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angelicyoongie · 3 months ago

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The Ivory Fang (I)

— pairing: mermaid taehyung x (f) reader — word count: 6k — warnings: (soft?) yandere, mention of illness (not the reader) — summary: You have run out of options when it comes to treating your mother's illness. When a mysterious man offers you a solution that might save her, you decide that nothing is too strange if it means it'll lead to a cure – not even finding and striking a deal with a mermaid.

Part 01 - 02

"My apologies, miss, but there's nothing I can do to aid your mother. Her malady is too severe."

The healer gives you a sympathetic look before he closes his door, the bell hanging above it chiming into the quiet night. You let out a shaky exhale, staring at the door that just sealed your mother's fate.

You have exhausted every possible option of looking for a cure, pleaded with every healer you've come across to please just try, but none have been willing. They always take one look at your mother, pale and gaunt in her bed, practically rotting away as she lays there, before they scurry away, refusing to treat her.

They may see a lost cause, a patient too sick to be cured, but you just see your mother – the woman who raised you by herself and taught you that even if all else fails, she would always be there to catch you.

The gold coins in your satchel clink together as you pull yourself away from the healer's door, your steps heavy as you begin the walk back to your house.

"What a fool," You grit, kicking at a stone in front of you, "If you had any common sense you should at least pretend like you had a cure and bled me dry."

Your throat bobs as you glance up at the night sky. The stars twinkle on without a worry, indifferent that their biggest admirer hasn't laid her eyes on them in months. You never quite saw the beauty in them like your mother did – like she still does – but they are practical for lighting your way home. It's the least they can do, as the tearful wishes you've bestowed upon their fallen brothers and sisters have all gone unheard since your mother fell ill.

It happened so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that you still have no idea what caused it. One day your mother was fine and the next she was unable to get out of bed, falling in and out of consciousness. It's been months of you doing everything you can to help her, but nothing has even given her a moment of respite from the illness that's ravaging her body. You're truly at your wit's end.

You press your hands to your eyes as they begin to blur, willing them not to fall. On the off chance that your mother is lucid when you return, you don't want to cause her the worry of seeing your swollen eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Taking a few deep breaths, you attempt to calm yourself, rubbing at your eyelids until the urge to cry subsides.

As you let your hands fall away, you find yourself squinting as you re-open your eyes, hazy lights filling your vision. Your steps slow as you draw near the source, a lit-up storefront beckoning you in with its warm, flickering lights.

"This isn't.." You look over your shoulder, seeing the faint outline of the healer's door further up the road. You walk along this path every day and yet, you have never seen this store before. You can't quite seem to recall what used to be there but you know it wasn't this.

Trepidation slowly sinks in as you keep walking forward, intent to let your feet carry you past the shop without a backward glance. Even so, a moment of morbid curiosity makes you pause, your eyes drinking in the soft glow of the seemingly floating lights in the window. Turning your head this way and that, you can't see the string holding them up, the thread much too thin to be visible in such low light. The windows are covered with rich fabrics, not allowing you to look inside past the heavy drapes. Your initial thought about this being a magician's shop falls short as you notice the etching into the glass, the lettering spelling out 'The Healing Shoppe'.

The name gives you a foolish burst of hope, your body already halfway up the stairs before you remember just how odd this whole thing is. A mysterious shop has appeared out of thin air and you're going to trust it just like that? Every rational part of your brain is urging you to leave, to forget that you ever laid eyes on this shop. But.. You can't simply ignore it on the odd chance that something inside might help your mother.

Taking a deep breath, you cross the last steps and find yourself in front of the door. As you press down on the handle, it gives away with a soft rattle. The sound is peculiar, certainly like no bell you've ever heard before; but with no visual clues of what it might be, you find that you can't quite place it. You take a hesitant step into the shop, the dimly lit space in front of you more like a hallway than a proper room. The walls are empty aside from a few lit candles, only a heavy drape obscuring what you assume to be a doorway further down the corridor.

"Hello?" You call out.

You pause, straining your ears for a reply, but nothing comes. Just as you're about to leave, worried that someone simply forgot to close up their shop, you hear a heavy thud from behind the curtain.

There's no noise aside from the impact, no immediate call for help, but there's still a possibility that someone may be hurt. Perhaps they fainted or are too weak to call out to you. You decide then that you're just going to take a look behind the drape, just to make sure everything is alright so that you can leave in good conscience.

You walk past the flickering candlelight, stomach swirling with unease as you reach out for the curtain. The material is soft in your hand, threads of shimmering silver woven so delicately into it that you can't even feel it as you run your thumb across it. The fabric is heavy as you finally push it aside, your eyes widening in surprise as you take in what it was hiding.

The room you step into is filled to the brim with shelves and cabinets, all of them displaying a different collection of oddities. There's dried flowers and herbs hanging from the ceiling, the many bunches of lavender spreading a calming scent throughout the space. There's a round table placed in the middle of the room, two chairs pushed up against it. The tablecloth is made out of the same material as the drape and your fingers are already itching to touch it again.

Glancing around, you find that the shelf next to you is stacked to the brim with gemstones of every cut and color imaginable, their polished surface reflecting the sparkling jars from across the room. If your mother was here, she would insist that they were filled with stardust, the shimmering substance so bright it's nearly imitating the night sky you looked up at just moments before.

You walk slowly around the room, captivated by all of the different items you find. A shudder runs through you as you pause near a display filled with skulls, some of the shapes so outlandish you wonder if the owner has somehow mended different species together just for show.

As you finally make a full circle back to the doorway you stepped through, you realize that there's nothing in this room that should have made the thud you heard earlier. There's no one here and nothing even seems slightly out of place.

Stumped, you lean forward on the table, running your fingers over the soft texture of the cloth as you give the room another look. Is there a door you missed somewhere? Perhaps you were too captivated by the content to really pay attention to the room.

"And who might you be?"

You spin around, heart in your throat, from the sudden deep voice speaking up behind you.

You stumble over an apology as you take in the cloaked figure in front of you, their face obscured by the big hood pulled over their head. The uneasy feeling in your stomach returns tenfold as you realize you're trapped between the table and this mysterious person, their broad frame blocking the only way in and out of the room.

"I–" You're saved from your poor explanation as the figure pulls their hood off, revealing the most beautiful man you've ever seen in your life. His light brown hair is tousled and wavy like he just came from a swim in the ocean, his skin sun-kissed as if he's spent his days laying by the shore. You find yourself unable to form words as you take in his chiseled jaw and almond-shaped eyes, the colour such a striking light blue, they almost appear white.

It's a little unsettling how piercing his gaze is, almost as if he's looking right into you rather than at you. Just as your eyes flicker to the curtain behind him, an excuse forming in your head for a swift exit, the man says, "What brings you to my shop?"

Flashes of your mother's gaunt face appear before your eyes, the sound of her breathing becoming heavier and heavier echoing in your ears. Even if you feel uneasy in this man's presence, you can't let this chance slip to your fingers. You owe your mother that much.

"I noticed the sign out front, that you have a healing shop? My mother.." You take a deep breath, swallowing down the lump in your throat. "My mother is very ill. No doctor or healer is willing to help her, they say her sickness is too severe. You.. You're my last hope."

"Hmm, I see," The man nods. He gestures to one of the chairs, "Please have a seat and explain your troubles. I need all the details you can give regarding your mother's malady."

You quickly slip into the nearest chair, your palms clammy with nervous anticipation. This is the first person who has ever bothered to ask, who actually seems to care. You watch the man as he rounds the table, his gait awkward and staggered as he walks with difficulty to his chair. The way he moves is nothing like you've seen before. It's certainly no ordinary limp, you've never seen anyone walk so .. unnaturally before.

The man catches your eye as he lowers himself to his seat.

"I know my condition is quite unsightly, please excuse me. Due to some unforeseen circumstances, I have had to train my legs to bear my weight. It has left me feeling like a fish out of water."

He flashes you a crooked smile, the amused twinkle in his eye alerting you of a joke you don't quite understand. You wonder if his condition is similar to your old neighbor's. The man had a painful sickness in his legs and spent most of his time in a wheeled chair, but he could walk on them if it was necessary. Though the few times you did see him walk, it still looked, well, human.

"Oh no, that's alright," You wave your hands, embarrassed that your staring might have made him feel self-conscious.

Desperate to turn the conversation away from the man's illness, you begin recounting everything you can remember about your mother's sickness. You tell him about how it began so suddenly, the severity of it and how no one else is willing to aid her, all noting her as a lost cause.

"Most curious," The man hums.

He leans back in his seat, his piercing gaze moving slowly across your face, scrutinizing it. He mutters something under his breath, too low for you to hear, before he raises his voice and says, "While I may not know what your mother's sickness is, I do know that there is only one thing that can cure her. A mermaid's magic."

"Pardon me?" You stare incredulously at the man. "Did you just say mermaid? As in the creatures from folktales?"

"I do know it sounds outlandish, or perhaps you'd find insane to be a more fitting word, but it's your last chance at curing your mother. Have you not exhausted all man-made options?"

You slump in your seat, biting down on your lip as you mull his words over. You have indeed done all you could to save your mother and to no avail. While it does sound absolutely mad to go searching for a mythological creature to aid her, perhaps crazy is just what you need. You're not sure just how much you trust this strange man but for all you know, he could be speaking the truth. He certainly looks like he believes in it himself.

"Where.. Where would I find one?"

The man tuts. "That's not the question you should be asking, guppy. A mermaid requires a sacrifice of equal value to what you are asking of them. What are you willing to give to receive their help?"

"Anything," You reply, "The cost doesn't matter. I'd give up anything to save my mother."

The man grins, his smile a little sharper than before, as he pulls out a weathered map from his cloak. He traces the route you need to take, crossing over the vast ocean to reach a cluster of islands on the other side.

"Finally, you will need to take a boat from Pearl Bay to this island right here. Once you locate the mermaid, you have to offer him this," The man places a tooth on the table, the whites of it glistening under the candlelight.

You hesitantly reach across the table to pick it up, the size and weight of it much more substantial than you were expecting. You find that the tooth is much more like a fang, one end pointed and sharp. It's nothing like you've seen before.

"What animal does this belong to?" You ask, tracing what looks like a red vein embedded in the side of it.

You look up as you're only met with silence, the man's heavy gaze transfixed on your hand and the fang held in your palm. He only seems to remember his surroundings as you lower it to your lap, removing it from his sight.

The man clears his throat as he pulls the hood back over his head. Ignoring your question, he nudges the map closer to you on the table, "I have given you everything you need. It is up to you to decide whether your mother lives – or dies. Good luck."

Your mind is made up a few days later when your mother starts coughing up blood. You doubt she has more than a few weeks left to live at the rate her sickness is eating her up, so you'll have to act right away if you want to save her. You still have your doubt about the journey, about the creature you're supposed to find, but the risk is worth it if the alternative is being left to always wonder if it could have cured her. You know you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if the mysterious man was correct and you didn't do anything about it.

"I'll find a cure, I promise," You give your mother a gentle kiss on her forehead. The lines on her hollowed face are scrunched with pain, her every breath a mere wheeze as her chest struggles to rise and fall.

You meet the saddened eyes of your neighbor as you press a few gold coins into her hand, whispering a few words of gratitude for her care while you're away. The journey shouldn't take more than ten nights to complete but you have paid her far more than that, just on the off chance that the weather delays your return. With your goodbyes said, you heft your rucksack onto your shoulder as you slip out of the cottage and set course for the port.

The sun has barely risen as you locate the ship that will take you south, the wooden dock filled with travelers and crew all headed in different directions. You're surprised to find that the ship is quite large, the deck just as bustling as the dock below. With all of the boxes and barrels being loaded up, you figure it's likely a cargo ship, moving wares and supplies out to the islands. While the journey is bound to be loud and quite cramped, you think the noise might actually do you some good. You hadn't realized just how much of your own energy had been sapped alongside your mother's, how much you missed the sound of laughter and life being lived around you. You'll be stuck on this ship until it reaches Pearl Bay, unable to do much other than sleep and converse with the people around you, so perhaps this will be a much needed break – a chance for you to wind down until you reach shore. Gods know you'll need it, especially since you're supposed to hunt down a fabled creature once your feet hit solid ground.

You fight to open your eyes as the sound of the howling winds outside sweep through the room, your stomach turning at the thought of having to move to see what caused it. The trap door slams shut before you muster up the courage to turn over, the sounds once again dampened by the heavy wood.

"Ay girlie, who made you this angry?!" A crewman huffs as he stumbles down the stairs to the lower deck, bracing his hands on the walls for support.

You bite your teeth together as another thunderous wave crashes against the side of the ship. The next round of nausea washes over you as the ship rocks back and forth, the wood groaning as it tries to steady itself. It's been three days of hellish waters, the storm breaking out as soon as the ship hit the open sea. You've spent most of it confined to your cot, barely being able to keep any water or food down before another rough wave causes your stomach to empty.

The lower deck is filled with pained moans and whimpers, the majority of the passengers fairing just as poorly as you. It feels like you're stuck in a loop of absolute misery with the heavy rain that pours down on the deck above and the angry sea that threatens to pull the ship under at any moment.

You let out a slow breath through your nose, trying to think about anything else but the bile slowly rising up your throat. So much for that relaxation. Desperate for some respite from your turning stomach, you close your eyes and turn your focus onto the indistinct chatter happening on the other side of the room. The low, murmuring voices prove to be enough of a distraction that you soon find your consciousness slipping, a welcome darkness taking over you as the storm continues to rage outside.

The next time you wake up, the ship is quiet and still, like the previous days were nothing more than a fever dream. It takes you longer than you'd like to make your way up on deck, your legs trembling and weak after barely any substance over the past three days. The fresh air and warm sunlight feels heavenly on your skin as you stumble past the other travelers sprawled out on the deck, a few of them still moaning about the ship moving too much, despite its now still glide on the quiet water. The ship's railing seems like a good spot to rest, the sturdy wood providing a nice support to lean against as you survey the sea around you. The water is crystal blue, glittering under the bright sun. You've never seen anything quite like it. You let out a gasp as a school of fish pass by the ship, their gray hue reflecting the light so beautifully it looks like molten silver dancing around under the water's surface.

You stand by the ship's edge for a while, long enough for the other passengers to begin retreating back to their cots. Just as you're about to do the same, you see what looks like a white, large fin hitting the surface of the sea, the creature below too obscured by the distance from the ship to really make out. Even so, you can tell it's no regular fish. The small waves caused by the impact must surely mean that it's a strong animal.

"Did you see that?" You turn to the man resting next to you, hoping he might have an explanation of what you just saw.

The man startles as you address him, clearly on the brink of falling asleep where he stands. He blinks, rubbing his eyes as he turns his attention to the spot you're pointing to.

"There's nothing there, miss," He grumbles, openly annoyed that you woke him up.

"What? But–" As you turn back to look at the sea, you realize he's right. The creature you saw is no longer there.

"Was likely just a dolphin, miss. There's lots of them in these waters."

"I suppose so," You concede. Having never seen one in real life, only on paper, you have no clue how large they're supposed to be. Yet, something in your gut tells you that this was no dolphin – this was something entirely different.

You're not left to ponder the creature for long, not when you're alerted that Pearl Bay has been spotted in the distance. Your final night at the ship passes by in the blink of an eye, time seemingly fueled by your nerves as you suddenly find yourself stepping onto solid ground once again. With a decent night's rest behind you and a warm meal in your stomach, you set course for the next point on your map.

Following the mysterious man's instructions, you find the path going along the outskirts of the bay, walking until you stumble upon the described hut nestled close to the water's edge. The woman inside seems eager to rent you a rowboat, citing that she doesn't get much business on the far side of the island.

It isn't until she asks you where you're going that her demeanor changes, her expression turning haunted as she glances in the direction of your destination, just barely visible where the sky meets the sea.

"There is something wicked in those waters," The woman shudders, her hands shaking as she accepts a gold coin for payment, "You'd better stay away if you value your life, miss."

Your stubbornness won't allow you to turn back now, not when you've already come so far, but that doesn't mean you're not affected by her warning. Her spooked expression lingers in the back of your mind as you push the boat out to sea, your own hands trembling with uncertainty as you grab the oars and begin to row.

Perhaps you are truly foolish to ignore all of the warning signs you have been presented with, but what is a little danger if it means it can heal your mother? You'll just have to stay vigilant, making sure not to take any risks and be alert to your surroundings.

With your rucksack tucked between your legs, you hum a gentle tune, trying to calm the anxiety building with every stroke forward.

The eerie feeling grows heavier the more distance you put between yourself and Pearl Bay, the island in the distance seemingly never drawing closer no matter how long and how hard you row. You set out before the sun had reached its highest point and now its rays are almost touching the sea, the sky a pure orange. Truly, it feels like you have just been paddling in place this whole time, not moving an inch despite the bay becoming fainter and fainter behind you.

Your arms are burning from the hours of exercise, your breath labored and heavy with exhaustion. You were hoping to make it to shore before nightfall – the map did not indicate that the journey would be this long – but you fear your body might shut down if you try to push it for much longer.

You pull the oars into the boat, intending to just take a short break and rest your eyes before your final stretch of the evening.

You swear you haven't dozed off for more than a quarter of an hour, the sunset still vivid and bright, but as you reopen your eyes, you're shocked to find the island close, its proximity now near enough that you can make out the palm trees on the shore and faint details of the wild mountain imposing behind them.

"How?" You breathe.

As you shift on the bench, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you notice that your feet feel much colder than before your nap. Wet.

Glancing down, you find the bottom of the boat filled with water, the amount already well above your ankles. You fumble for the oars, cursing as you begin to row with all of your might. You can't tell where the leak is coming from and scooping the water out with your hands won't get you anywhere. Your best bet is just to get the boat as close to land as possible and then swim the rest of the way.

You resolutely do not think about what may be lurking in the water as you finally abandon the sinking boat, your rucksack balanced precariously on your head as you lower yourself into the cold water. You wonder for a split second if it's better to leave it but the extra portions of food you brought with you will surely come in handy now that your way of returning to Pearl Bay is at the bottom of the ocean.

Biting your teeth together, you begin to swim, your gaze locked onto the beach. Time feels endlessly long as you push yourself forward, the minutes ticking by so slowly they might as well have been hours.

You let out a sob of relief as your feet finally touch solid ground, every limb shaking with exhaustion as you waddle the rest of the way up to dry land. You collapse the moment you hear sand crunching under your soaked boots, panting, as your vision swirls from fatigue.

You lie there until the chill begins to set in, your dripping clothes sticking to your skin like an icy embrace. Groaning, you push yourself up on your feet, knowing you'll have to attempt to create a fire if you want any warmth to return to your body.

The sky is beginning to grow dark, its orange hues replaced by deep purple and blue. It's only now that you realize just how unnaturally quiet the island is, with no noise to be heard aside from the water lapping at the shore and a gentle breeze flowing through the palm trees. Even if you hadn't been this exhausted and cold, you would never dare to venture further into the thick vegetation in the dark. You don't trust the island to not lead you astray.

"Suppose I'll stay here for the night," You murmur.

You rummage through your rucksack, pulling out the change of clothes you had brought with you just in case. You're ever thankful for your own foresight as you strip out of your soaked garments, goosebumps racing down your skin as you hurry to pull on a dry blouse and trousers. It isn't just the cold that's making your skin crawl – you can't help feeling like somewhere in the darkness of the deep ocean, or in the shadows in the midst of the trees, someone is watching you.

You glance around as you do your blouse up, finding absolutely nothing staring back at you.

Yet, the feeling lingers.

It takes you longer than you'd like to admit getting a fire started, the branches you find a little too damp to really catch a spark. Still, some deity seems to take pity on you and allows one of your attempts to succeed, the branch igniting and spreading the flames to the rest of your small bonfire. You scarf down half of the food and water you brought with you as you soak up the warmth, deciding that despite your still vocal stomach, it's better to save the rest for tomorrow. You have no idea how large this island actually is, so there's no question that you'll have to keep your energy up.

With your stomach slightly sated and your shivering down to a minimum, you curl up on the beach, as close to the open flames as you dare. You use your rucksack as a makeshift pillow, piling up the rest of your supplies close by. Despite the unnerving, oppressive air that hangs over the island, you succumb to sleep quickly, your exhaustion too great to fight.

Your dreams are restless, haunted by sharp teeth and whispers, a deep baritone voice urging you to come find him. You wake with a start, alarmed that the puff of air you sensed across your ear in your nightmare felt a little too real.

Heart racing in your chest, you quickly survey the beach, finding nothing out of the ordinary. Your bonfire has long since extinguished itself, its ashes intertwined with the sand below.

Reaching out behind you, you frown as you don't feel the pouch of water you know you left there the night before.

Turning around, you're met with absolutely nothing. Your food and water are gone, and the clothes you left out to dry are nowhere to be seen.

You would suspect an animal to be behind it but you really don't think there's any here. It's too quiet. Not even an insect has passed you by since you stepped foot on this island.

Perhaps the sensation you felt wasn't just a dream, maybe there's someone – something – here.

"You're fine, you're fine," You whisper, digging your hands into the sand to ground yourself. You don't have time to panic. If all of your supplies are gone, it just means you have even less time to locate the creature you came here for. You have to move. Now.

You push yourself up to your feet, dusting sand off your clothes. Your boots are long gone too but you doubt they would have been of much use anyway with the way they were gurgling the night before.

Taking a deep breath, you begin walking towards the thick vegetation a little further up the beach, where the sand meets lush, long grass. The jungle you step into is so dense that the sunlight barely manages to peek through the trees, only small dapples of sunlight flickering across the ground as the leaves move with the wind. The map provided to you didn't show where you would find the mermaid once you reached the island, so you're left to wander aimlessly, pushing aside shrubs and climbing over fallen trees.

Even if you have no idea which way you should be headed, it's almost as if your body knows, your feet carrying you in what you can only hope is the right direction. Your path becomes clear as you break through the trees and find yourself at the edge of the mountain, near the shore. Your journey must have led you to the other side of the island, and the massive cave that's carved out of the mountain is too imposing to be anything but your destination. From the folktales you have heard, it seems like the perfect place to find a mermaid.

The cave mouth is facing out into the ocean, its size big enough to fit a ship through it. You say a small prayer to whatever deity is willing to listen as you square your shoulders and walk in, your barren footsteps echoing into the quiet mountain. You keep close to the wall as you follow the rocky ledge that trails along it, mindful of the stream that runs parallel to your path. The water here is darker, not as willing to divulge what may be lurking beneath its surface. It seems this cave has a paved a road for those with feet and fins.

You follow the ledge as it veers to to left and it soon becomes apparent to you that you have stepped into a tunnel, something much smaller and damper compared to the cave entrance. You can almost graze your fingertips against the mountain above you now.

It doesn't take long before the tunnel opens up before you, showing you sunlight streaming in through holes in the mountain. This cavern is large and wide, showing off a pool of water in the middle of it. You freeze near the edge of the tunnel, still shrouded in its shadows, as you finally lay eyes on the creature you have been searching for – the mermaid.

It's lounging in the water, its back turned towards you as it uses its arms to rest on the pool's edge. You find yourself mesmerized by its tail, the massive thing almost as long as a full-grown adult. It's white in colour but the scales appear to have a pearlescent luster to them, shimmers of pink and green reflecting in the water.

The mermaid's body resembles a man, showing off a chiseled back and strong muscles as he moves his arms. The mermaid's tousled, light brown hair looks oddly familiar from the back, but you know no men who sport that kind of style. There's no place for vanity in your town.

"Hello?" You call out as you step into the cavern.

You hold your breath as the mermaid flips its body around at the sound of your voice, its strong tail splashing in the water. Dumbfounded, you watch as the mermaid pushes his hair back, revealing a face you already know.

It's the mysterious man from the healing shoppe, the same one that told you to come find the mermaid – to come find him.

The man grins as he drinks in your shock, his teeth much sharper than you remember them.

"Ah, pretty human, it seems that you decided to save your mother's life after all."

"You.." You struggle to make sense of what you're seeing, none of it adding up. "Who are you?"

"Me? Oh, pardon my manners. You may call me Taehyung, human. I believe you have a request for me?"

A sudden gust of wind comes through the cave as the mermaid utters his name, a loud rattling echoing between the walls of the cavern. You remember hearing that same sound before, the night you stepped into his shop. The moment you glance up to find the source, you find yourself immediately regretting it.

The darkest spots of the cave's ceiling are filled with clumps of hanging bones, all made up of various animals. They rattle as the wind makes them sway, causing them to knock into each other over and over. You swallow thickly as you spot a skull that is very distinctly human, its warning not lost on you.

You scramble a step back as you look back to the water and find Taehyung much closer than before. He's resting casually on the pool's edge, his chin in his hand as he observes you from only a few feet away. His icy gaze is locked on to you and there's a glint in his eye that makes you all too aware that you have nowhere to run. Even if you make it out of the cave, you will still be trapped on the island. The water is Taehyung's domain and you're surrounded by it.

Foolishly naive and desperate as you are, you have let a predator lead you right into his grasp.

a/n: want to read chapter two right away? you can! just click here and it'll bring you straight to early access 💖

welcome to the third installment in the crimson shell universe (all of the stories are stand alones though, so you'll be fine even if you haven't read the others)!! i know we didn't see too much of tae in this chapter but i can promise you he'll make plenty of apperances in the next one 👀 this is a yandere mermaid story, but this fic will be... softer (?) in comparison to the others! i'd love to know what you think so far!! 💖

the next(/final) chapter will be posted in three weeks time! if you don't want to wait and would like to support me, you can read it now through early access on my kofi! the link is above. thank you!! 💖

#yandere au #yandere bts #yandere taehyung #yandere mermaid #mermaid bts #mermaid taehyung #taehyung x reader #bts x reader #mermaid au #yandere x reader

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zyafics · 8 months ago

Text

PLAY FAKE | 04

MASTERLIST (Series)

Pairing — Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs.

Dedication — for @rivaiken, iykyk! <3

The next couple of days have been radio silence. You don't try to communicate with Rafe and he doesn't try to communicate with you. You just throw yourself into your work, scolding to yourself how this was such a bad idea.

It wasn't meant to be a fuck relationship. It was meant to be fake. Nothing more than public displays of affection and going on to ignore each other behind the scenes. Rafe, himself, said that he wanted to continue doing all the shit he's doing now, just with you as a shielded layer of protection against his father.

Whenever you think back to that moment in the country club bathroom, your stomach recoils. Not because of the sex, but because of how willing you are. You always saw yourself as an independent person. Someone who can handle your own needs. You had to be; you grew up with no parental guidance and raised two younger sisters. You take care of people, you think of others. You handle everything yourself.

But you remember you were deep on your knees, ready to give him anything; when you were splay against the counter, begging him to make you come. God, you feel embarrassed by your own desire.

Maybe it's the control. Maybe it's because you're so used to it in the real world, for once, you want to give the reins to someone else. Especially in the bedroom. And Rafe perfectly takes it.

The only problem is he doesn't give it back.

Asshole.

You're behind the counter, telling Miranda about the new backlog of orders that the system hasn't placed, and a spill in one of the corners, when the bell rings, signaling the entrance of another customer.

"I'll be right with you!" You shout over your shoulders, quickly summarizing the last of the tasks for Miranda before turning to the new customer who walked in.

You plastered on your service smile, ready to take their orders.

Only to realize it was Rafe.

Your smile drops.

"What do you want, Rafe?" You ask pointedly, setting the towel down on the counter as he slides into the seat before you, a casual demeanor to his own presence.

"I need you to play the part again." He says, without so much as an apology or acknowledgement to what happened the other night. "It worked. My dad likes you."

"That's great," your voice is empty of emotions. "Are you coming here to tell me about what a perfect plan you made?"

"No," he shakes his head. "I need you to attend a party with me."

"Business?"

"No, at my house."

Your answer is immediate. "No," you say, shaking your head. "Can't make it."

"You don't even know what it is about."

"Let me guess," you cross your arms, pretending to ponder. "Your dad trusts you enough with me, so if he sees you and me at your party, he would assume I'll be able to control you and you won't push yourself over the edge?"

His reply is silent. That's how you know you're right.

"Guess my Pogue brain caught up fast enough."

You turn around to grab a small glass, pouring out a shot of tequila on the table before tipping your head backwards and taking it all in without a chaser. You need it for whatever this conservation is about to go. "I won't be able to go. I have a double shift."

"I haven't told you the day yet."

"I have double shifts all week," you declare sharply, the bitter taste burning your throat. You squint your eyes for a moment, readjusting, before you find his gaze again.

"I'll pay you."

"God, is this party that important?" You huff out of astonishment at his persistence. "The answer is still no. I don't want your money."

Rafe's brows furrow together. He doesn't understand why you're acting so cold to him. He came in with a good proposition; you wouldn't have to do any of those silly dinners with his father, all you had to do was make an appearance at a party long enough to satiate Ward and then you can do whatever the hell you want. Why are you being so difficult?

"What the fuck is your problem? Why do you have such an attitude?"

You laugh, abruptly, because this is so ironic and humorous to you that the sound rips out. The reckless prince, the man who received a collegiate degree from UNC Chapel Hill doesn't know what a Pogue is thinking.

You don't answer him, deciding to take one of the tasks off of Miranda's hands and clean up the spill yourself. It’s better than being cornered by Rafe. You move to the other side of the counter for the flip-door exit, stepping out from behind the booth.

Heading to the back to grab the supplies, Rafe follows you. Once you step into the backdoor, grabbing the mop, he slips in behind you, blocking the exit.

"You gonna talk or just avoid me all day again?"

You scoff. "That's rich coming from you."

His forehead wrinkles. He truly doesn't know. "What the fuck are you goin' on about?"

Having enough, you throw your arms out in frustration. "I'm talking about the fact that you're the one who fucked me in a bathroom after some problem with your dad," you snap, lashing out from all your pent-up anger. "You refused to talk to me. All you did was used me as your fucking toy."

He staggers back for a moment. Before a cruel smile appears on his lips.

"I remember you were begging for it."

You slap him.

It was so unprecedented, without thought, that it shocked the both of you. The next few seconds were quiet, too quiet, like it was a live wire waiting to spark.

Your voice is calm, almost deadly. "I want you to leave."

His anger comes back tenfold. It's almost a match made in hell; how your rage matches his, how he doesn't back down—but neither do you.

You were going to drive each other insane.

And some sick part of you liked it.

"When have I ever fucking talked to you, Pogue?" He snaps back with dark fury. "We're barely even friends. If I want to fuck you, and you let me, I'm taking it."

"Whenever you had a problem with your dad, you came to me, in this bar," you gesture out to the door. "You talked. I listened. That was the deal."

"We never said that in our relationship."

"Well, I'm putting it in," you declare. Approaching him, stepping a foot closer to close in the distance between the two of you. He doesn't move. He doesn't waver. He watches your step with heavy breathes, dark eyes. In a low breath, you warn, "you want to fuck other people? Fine. I don't care. You do that. They aren't the ones sticking with you, helping you with your dad. They don't have to carry the weight of you being you."

You know the last line was a hard hit, but it was true. You were tired of being seen as another Pogue, someone on the bottom of the litter meant to be used and thrown away. You need to make your stance firm.

"But if you want to fuck me," you conclude, pointing to yourself, "you talk to me, first."

He says nothing. Your anger is filling your adrenaline. It could also be the tequila. Whatever it is, you don't know what provoked you to say the next sentence.

"I wasn't on the pill, goddammit."

For a moment, sobriety reigns over Rafe's features. His eyes widened. "Did you—"

"I bought a Plan B, you asshole." You cut him off, not wanting him to think you're too stupid to think of the consequences. You knew. That's why you told him to pull out. "I wasn't going to carry your babies in me. But, it was expensive. Do you know how much that cost out of my paycheck?"

To him, that may seem like nothing. Nothing more than scraps rolling around his room, in his pockets that he could spare. But for you? That's money that could've gone to paying off your debt, to helping Sailor, to taking care of your siblings.

He remains silent.

You continue.

"You cover for me however you want. You host that party if you want to so fucking badly. But I can't do it. I have work."

You push past Rafe and he lets you, grabbing the mop out of the corner and stepping back into the open atmosphere of your bar. You may hate the noise that comes from the place, but it was better than being suffocated in a room with him.

Rafe quietly follows after you after you return behind the counter.

He looked like he wanted to say something more, but his words were not coming out. His gaze flicks to you, jaw clenched.

"I... I didn't know," his voice is a whisper, almost indistinguishable, that you can't help but let out a bitter chuckle.

"Yeah," you agree. "Because you refused to talk to me."

He says nothing, muted by his own anger, looking down at his hands, before he walks out of the bar. He doesn't bid farewell and you don't expect him to. All you know is he's going to get shit-faced soon and you had nothing to do with it.

—

As you are helping your little sister with her math homework—where all her struggles were about multiplication tables and recognizing whether a fraction is improper—you miss the early days of your life. Where you don't have to think about anything else.

About the bills. About the loans. About how to take care of your siblings.

About a stupid Kook prince you can't get out of your mind.

Your baby sister is seated on the couch, reading some children's book that you made a couple of years ago, stringed together with yarns and colored pencils. Her delicate voice echoes through the joint living room, sounding out the words on her own as she heard you read them million of times before.

Your sister, Amara, pulls you back to reality as she taps your arm, pointing to her problem on the kitchen counter that she's struggling with. She points to the question, reciting her logic of how she got there, and you return with praising her thought process but reminding her of her multiplication tables.

"Ohhhh," her voice drags, giggling at the realization. "I see."

You chuckle softly, laying your chin on her small shoulder and picking up your phone off the counter. While she fixes her mistake, you scroll through social media.

A notification flashes at the top of your screen.

topperthornton: hey

Why the fuck is another Kook sliding into your DMs?

you: hello?

He quickly responds, asking if you are your name.

you: why?

topperthornton: idk if u know but rafe is hosting a party tn

you: so i heard

topperthornton: well, you should come

you: i don't think so, white boy

topperthornton: it's rafe.. he's asking about u

Something in your chest sputters. You pretend it's not your heart.

you: ?? for what

You hope you didn't come off too eager. You don't want to be. You should be pissed, goddammit, but something about knowing Rafe, drunk right now, is thinking about you, makes you weak.

You hate it.

topperthornton: idk what happened between the two of u but he's drunk and crossed out of his mind and he's just been rambling about u

You stare at the text for a hot minute, before another one follows.

topperthornton: u need to come immediately

Fucking hell.

You know you shouldn’t. You just came out of a long, tiresome shift. You have siblings to take care of. You have a math problem that has yet been corrected. But, something in your chest caves. The idea that Rafe needs help, that he's asking for you specifically, and you aren't coming? Makes you uneasy.

You have to go.

There's no other way around it.

Scrambling, you pull your Amara off your lap as you run out the door and race down the block. When you stop in front of Pope's house, you pound your fist against the door, praying someone is home.

It's Pope.

"Hey," he greets. "What's up?"

"I know this is last minute but I need you to watch the kids," you announce breathlessly. His eyes follow you, concerned.

"Everything okay?"

"It's fine," you wave off. "I just have to go somewhere and I don't know how long I'll be. Amara is doing her math homework and Leilani is just reading a book. They're really sweet, I promise."

Pope laughs you off casually. "I know," he says with a smile. "I've babysat them before."

"So," you string the words together slowly, hoping your anxiety isn't coming off too strong. You don't want Pope to feel obligated. "Can you... do it?"

He nods. "Of course. Pogues help each other out."

You smile, pulling him into a quick hug, before handing him the spare key to your house. He heads over to take care of your siblings while you run to your beaten-down car, reversing out the road.

When you arrived at Tannyhill, you truly underestimated how large the party was going to be. People crowded all over, dancing, swinging, just having a reckless and wild time at Rafe Cameron's place. While you know you should be slightly embarrassed by the long pajama pants and braless baggy tee you're wearing right now, feeling overdressed, you step out of the car and head inside.

Topper spots you at the porch.

"Thank God," he mumbles under his breath. "He's been out of it."

You wonder if Topper knows about your arrangement with Rafe.

"Yeah," you nod. "Where is he?"

"I put him in his room with some water but I gotta tell you, he's wasted. Some of the things he says... may not be tasteful."

You scoff. We've already crossed that bridge. "I think I'll be fine."

Without another word, Topper pulls away and you head up the familiar stairs of the estate, descending down the hallway you were here just days ago. It feels, for some reason, like a lifetime since you visited.

You knock on the door, twice, to no answer. Deciding to go for it—praying you won't walk into some lewd act—you step into the room to find it peacefully quiet. Rafe laid out on the mattress, his eyes closed.

You scan the room, trying to see if there's any destruction—any thrown chairs or broken bottles—to find everything in the same condition as you visited prior. The only difference is a pink bag, sitting in his drawer with a bouquet of flowers sticking out.

Your stomach twists in jealousy as you wonder who that could be for. At what fool is receiving such gifts or who gave him such.

When you peek inside, you notice a couple of things: a white envelope, a bundle of red tulips, and like ten-plus stacks of Plan B.

You stiffen your laugh. You realize the fool is you.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach.

The bed creaks and you jump at the sound, seeing Rafe pulling himself up on the mattress into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes to clear his vision, before he finds you, standing in front of him.

He says your name. He thinks he's hallucinating from the drugs.

"Yeah," you nod, cautiously approaching him as his glazed eyes follow your every move. "It's me."

"I thought you said you had a double shift."

He didn't mean for his words to come off so sharp.

"I locked up an hour ago." You explain, brushing past his aggravation.

Rafe nods at your explanation, but his movements are sluggish. Lag. He truly is out of it. You're surprised he went this hard.

His head hangs, staring at his lap, before he asks quietly. "What are you doing here?"

You shrug. You don't know either. You thought he needed help. The idea of him asking for you, but you weren't there for him, kills something inside of you. But, you can't say that. Not after everything you said to him. Not after what this relationship is based on.

You are nothing more than a fake girlfriend.

"Topper said you needed help," you evade any sense of responsibility. Of care. "He texted me."

His jaw clenches, and he looks up at you. "Top has your number?"

"No. He found my Instagram," you answer, wondering if that is jealousy you hear. But, you settle that it can't possibly be the case. "He DM'd me and I came over."

Now it's your turn to be vulnerable.

"I thought you needed help."

Rafe scoffs, bitterly, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Unless you can get this headache out of my heart, I don't think there's much you can do, sweetheart."

You nod, your feet shift to the door, ready to leave. If this is all, if that's all Topper is worried about, Rafe should be fine.

"Come here."

You find yourself listening. Again. Your feet pads against the hardwood floor as you streamline over to him, stopping just in front of his legs hanging off the ledge of the mattress. His head tilts up to meet your gaze; his cloudy blue eyes staring back at you. You bite back a thought.

"I know something that would make me feel better."

You scoff at the suggestive tone. "Let me guess: fuck?"

"Sit on my lap."

You hesitate for a moment. You don't want to be another fuck. But, when his hand lands on the side of your thigh, gentle and earnest, you relent.

Slowly, you settle onto Rafe's lap, both legs on either side of his waist. Your body facing him, and despite him in the lower position, he meets you at eye level.

"Better?" You tilt your head, watching his shoulders unwind every-so-slightly.

"Much." He murmurs, his eyes tracing your face. "God, you're gorgeous."

You flush, knocking a weak palm against his broad shoulder. "Shut up," you say, feeling anything but. You're wearing scraps for clothing, something you planned to go straight to bed—not attend an extravagant party hosted by one of the island's finest.

"I'm fucking serious." He snaps, but his voice doesn't have that hard edge. You blame that on the alcohol too. "I saw all those girls tonight. And yet, here you are, in your fucking pajamas and getting me hard."

You scoff, turning away. "So it does lead back to sex."

"No, it means that they pale in comparison to you," he cups your chin, gently, pulling your gaze back to him. "I'm serious, sweetheart. Believe me."

You're afraid that if you move up against his lap, coming closer, you would feel his erection. Not to mention, if you do, you don't know if you're going to start dry-humping him like you did the other day. But, you remain firm on your stance.

You're not going to let him fuck you unless he talks to you.

The atmosphere thins into a silence, as you take in the low hums of the downstairs party blasting in distant music.

"How was the party?" You ask, probing for a conversation starter. "Was it everything you dreamed of?"

He scoffs. "You're looking at it. I basically drank and smoked until I got sick."

His vices. At least you didn't have to hear about the women he hooked up with, if that's the case. Something deep inside of you hope there isn't.

You nod silently, finding your fingers tracing the outline of his shoulders, your nails scraping against his hot skin and trailing up the crook of his neck. Rafe lets his eyes flutter close for a moment, breathing in a shaky breath.

"Don't do that."

"Why?" You ask, genuinely curious. "I'm just tracing."

"Because anything from you right now feels good," he confesses quietly, and your breath caught in your throat. You hand stills. "Fuck, don't stop."

"You're going to have to give me one signal here, Rafe," you roll your eyes. "You can't say green and red light at the same time."

He pauses for a moment. Contemplating your words.

"Green," he whispers. "Definitely green."

You return to your outline of Rafe's silhouette. He lets you. He says nothing as you follow down to the curve of his arms, skimming against his defined biceps and the muscles instinctively flex under your touch. It made you smile. You pretend you aren't proud of it.

This is done in complete silence.

Then, out of nowhere, Rafe confesses, "I shouldn't have touched you like that."

You freeze. You knew immediately what he was referring to.

"I—I was out of it. I took it out on you."

He still doesn't get it.

You abandon your artwork and use both hands to cup the underside of his jaw, forcing him to tilt his gaze and look up at you. With a sigh, you say, "that wasn't the problem." Your eyes study his face, "it was the fact that you didn't talk to me or explain to me what happened."

His gaze is broken; so incredibly so. The whites of his irises are a faint shade of red, bringing out the deep set of his blue eyes.

"I need to know these things, Rafe." You continue gently. "It's not about me being nosy, or a bitch, or anything. If I'm getting into something with you, I need to know the full picture so I can help you." You swallow your voice as you mumble out the next one. "So you can help me."

You hope he doesn't know the strain in your tone, how hard it was to say those words. You hope he doesn't press on it.

"Okay." Rafe nods, dipping his chin into your palms. "I get it."

"Easier said than done, darling."

Rafe knows it is. He's been struggling to string words together before you came into his life, much less with you in it. But, he was willing to try.

He begins at the dinner. With a stumbled start, he explains how Ward doesn't think he was good enough for you.

You stop him to ask questions. "He said that?"

"No," Rafe shakes his head. "But it's the look on his face. It's—the way he acted. You should've seen how he looked at me when he complimented you, like I'll never compare."

You frown at those words; you didn't even notice.

When he satisfied your questions, Rafe continued on with his story. Rambling further. Each word spilling out easier than the last. He assumed it's because of the alcohol, or the drugs, or perhaps it was neither altogether and it was just you. All in all, he knew.

It was easiest to talk to you.

It reminded him of the bar. He put himself in that setting. His words tumbles out of him with the impression that you won't share it with anyone else. The idea that you were just you, a bartender, who probably had to deal with this shit a thousand-times-over with other talkative customers. That it was you, who he is confessing a vulnerable part to, without the retaliation of judgment.

Rafe breakdowns the comments Ward made. The little conversation they shared after dinner, when you were helping with the caterers. Your clothes. It all became too much to him; like he was the problem. That nothing he did was good enough. His mind was spiraling by that time and having nothing else to pour it into—the drinks, the drugs, the partying—all he had was you.

And he used that to his advantage.

You listen intently, nodding along and following his words without further interruption. Only on things you truly need to clarify. When he finished, even with his incoherent noises and words, something in his chest lightens. It feels more at peace.

You stare at him for a few moments, digesting the information. A protectiveness forms in the pit against your stomach because fuck Ward, you decided. Sure, there may have been admiration from your end about his ability to become a Kook but that means shit now. You hate how he treats Rafe. You hate how you didn't notice.

"God, your dad is a dick."

Rafe doesn't agree like you expect him to. His gaze hardens, like he can't stand you insulting him. You realized, in that moment, you crossed a line. That he may harbor all these hurt and anger and resentment, at the end of the day, it's still his father.

"Sorry," you mumble softly. "I didn't mean it like—"

"I know what you mean."

That came out with an edge.

You swallow, deciding that you should leave. Maybe you being here isn't the right decision. Your legs are starting to cramp from their overstretched position and the inside of your thighs burn from the overuse. You peel your hands off his shoulders and slowly will yourself off of Rafe's lap.

"I should go," you declare, glancing at the exit.

Something in his chest tightens. He wasn't mad. He just wasn't used to regulating his emotions, especially about his father. All he knows is that he doesn't want you to leave.

"Wait," Rafe declares as you pause in front of his bedroom door. He stammers for an excuse. "I never made you come."

Your eyes slightly widen from the suggestion. "It's fine," you say, even though, in that moment, a small part of you hated him for that. "I... I finished myself off when I got home."

The image of you, in your bed, alone, touching yourself to relieve your aches, does something to him. Both in guilt and in arousal.

"No," he raises from his bed, approaching you. Now, with him standing on his own two feet, he towers over you—dominating and intimidating. "It's only fair. I should give back."

"Rafe," you place a hand on his chest, laughing awkwardly, because you don't know how you feel about him pleasuring you. "It's fine. It's not a tit-for-tat thing. You don't owe me anything."

He feels frustrated again. That's not what he meant.

"Fine." He snaps. "You want my words? I want to make you come. I want you to feel as good as I did that day."

You stare at him, the air stolen from your lungs, not knowing what to say. Then, suddenly, an idea occurs to you and a sly smile rises to your lips.

"You want to help me come?" You ask sweetly, watching as he nods his head like an obedient dog. "Okay."

Your hands travel down to the hem of his pants, to his belt, and unbuckle them. Rafe's face conveys surprise, that you're so eager to accept, and when you pull out the leather strap, you stop. Just for a moment, you glance back, asking in confirmation. "My pleasure, right?"

He doesn't know what you're trying to do, but he nods anyway.

"Turn around."

Rafe does what you say. You take both of his wrists into one of your hands—a struggle that Rafe had to assist with—and pins them behind his back. Using the belt, you tie them together.

"Sweetheart..." His voice is low, unsure of how you're able to proceed, but the arousal travels through his body at the uncertainty.

"Trust me." You whisper, buckling them into a firm lock. When you walk back around to face Rafe, your panties dampen at the sight before you: him, standing tall, with his arms pinned behind him, almost helpless. "Sit."

Rafe takes the seat on the desk chair you pulled out, his bounded arms touching the back of the seat as his focus is pinned on you, standing before his bed.

You let out a shaky breath, excitement bubbling in your stomach at the idea of what's about to happen, before your fingers hook to the band of your pants, slowly pulling them down to your ankles. He watches every little move; like a strip tease catered specifically for him. Something he can see. Something he can't touch.

Rafe can feel his erection hardens in his jeans.

"What are you doing?" Rafe's voice is rough and once you step out of your pants, revealing the white panties underneath, he groans at the sight.

"I'm going to make myself feel good," you declare evenly, trying to calm your racing heart, "and you're going to watch."

His Adam's apple bobs. "How do I help?"

"I look at you as I do."

A complaint lodged in his throat but you caught it before he proceeded. "My pleasure, right?" You remind him, to which he, with great reluctance, nods.

You leave your shirt on, deciding it would be unnecessary to take off, and settle down on his bed. Your back pressed against the mattress, you position yourself comfortably in a way that allows Rafe to watch.

And he's watching.

"Are you going to use your fingers?" Rafe asks, deciding that he needs to talk to keep him sane.

"Mhm," you answer, spreading your legs. Arousal licks up your stomach as you feel the cool air brushes the inside of your thighs, raising goosebumps against your skin. You feel the urge to laugh to dispel some discomfort in your body, at how intense Rafe is studying you, but you choose not to. "I might only use two. It'll be tight."

Fuck, Rafe thought.

With a tentative hand, you brush your fingers against your panties, feeling your wetness forming a spot. The light touches ignites heat in your core and your eyes flutter close for a second.

"Look at me." Rafe commands, trying to regain some control. It doesn't work, but you listen anyway.

You watch him as you continue to stroke yourself, pressing against your clothed pussy, not quite entering, as a light coat of your slick covers your fingers. You tip your head back with a small moan.

"Sweetheart," he groans, "stop torturing yourself."

When he truly means to stop torturing him.

You pull your hand back and stuff your fingers into your mouth to cover with saliva, tasting the faintness of your arousal, before returning back to your pussy. Pushing the drenched fabric to the side, a forefinger slips inside easily.

A whimper escapes you, your back arching slightly from the intrusion of your touch. Rafe's breath hitches in his throat as he watches you steadily pump yourself, in-and-out with one digit. You focus on your own pleasure, how good it feels, with the heightened sensitivity of Rafe's attention all on you.

And he's fucking hard.

Rafe watches as you spread your wet folds, slipping in another finger to your tight cunt. It kills him that he can't do anything about it.

"I bet my fingers would fill you more," he offers seductively, trying to remind you of his existence. That he can do it too. You laugh softly, not taking the bait. "What are you thinking about?"

"How good this feels," you whisper, hearing the sound of your wetness squelching in the air. You mewl. "You."

Rafe grunts at the confession. You try to keep your eyes set on him, to remember what you're doing, who you're doing it with, but the build-up is causing you to lose control and makes you close your eyes.

"Eyes." He demands, his voice sharper than before. You open them with great resistance, each second longer is a struggle to keep them focused on him.

"Oh, god," you moan, quickening your pace as you connect your gaze with Rafe. The way he looking at you right now. It reminds you of the night at Topper's house, the time in the country club's bathroom. "Yes, yes, fuck."

He can't stand this. He's straining against his jeans, his cock painfully hard without any relief, while his wrists are bound and reddened by how tight you locked him in. How he's pushing against the leather, trying to break free.

You close your eyes again in pleasure. Your orgasm is getting close.

Rafe swallows hard. "You feelin' good, sweetheart?"

You nod eagerly, flicking your gaze back to him. "You enjoying the view?"

He clenches his jaw, not responding, but you can tell. The impressive outline of his bulge against his pants, how hungry his eyes are. How much he wants you.

It lights something carnal within you. You start to pump harder and faster inside your pussy, your moan growing louder and without inhibition; Rafe's very own porn show in front of him.

He has enough.

"I need to touch you." Rafe declares desperately, rising from his chair, his eyes never straying from the perfect image of you, on his bed, fucking yourself, writhing in ecstasy. "Come on, sweetheart, I can—fuck—I can make you feel so much better."

He's bargaining, goddammit.

A small laugh leaves you, mixed in with the sound of your own pleasure, and you don't acknowledge his comment. His pleads. He steps forward, closing the distance between the two of you.

Rafe growls out your name.

You glance up at him through a heavy-lidded gaze. "Hmm?" You say innocently, pulling your hand out of your pussy. His eyes glance down at your slickness glistening off your fingers, his chest tightening.

"Say yes." He demands weakly, his voice rough and filled with so much restraint, like he's seconds away from losing it. "Tell me I can touch you."

You pull yourself to your knees, bending before him, your smile full of satisfaction. "You want me that badly, baby?"

He doesn't even bother denying it anymore. "Yes."

"My pleasure, right, baby?"

"Fuck, yes," he groans. "Please."

You grin, bringing your wet fingers to his mouth and pressing it against his full lips. He takes you in, sucking your arousal clean from your hand, his eyes still on yours, and you, finally, finally nod.

"You can touch me."

Rafe breaks his belt buckle in one swift motion, surprising you, before his hands immediately cover your body, grabbing at any flesh he can find. His mouth claims yours, pulling you into a hungry kiss and pushing you back against the mattress as his weight pins you down.

"You can't get enough of me." You tease, moaning at how good he tastes, how you can taste yourself on him, and your fingers find his hair. When he breaks, his hard eyes land on your face.

"You don't know how fucking badly I want to punish you right now," he confesses lowly, his hand lowering to the space between your legs. "For torturing me like that."

"It doesn't feel good, does it?"

Rafe scoffs, capturing your cheeks in one large hand, squeezing them together. He runs the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip, mumbling, "this fucking mouth."

You provoke further. "You love it."

He doesn't answer you, silencing himself with a bruising kiss against your lips and sucking all the air out of your lungs. When his hand lands on your pussy, his fingers begin to run tight circles around your clit, causing you to arch into him.

"Oh, god," you moan into his mouth as he swallows the sound. Breaking from the kiss to glance down, he watches at how responsive your body is, how you're writhing under his touch, and smirks.

"Feels good?"

"So good," you whisper needily, "please keep doing that."

Rafe descends down your body, kissing a trail from the navel of your stomach to your wet cunt, aching and waiting just for him. "I'm going to make you come on my fingers, tongue, and face. Think you can do that for me, sweetheart?"

He doesn't give you time to answer, covering his mouth over your swollen nub and sucks.

"Oh, fuck," your hips involuntarily bucks against his face. He grins against your pussy, in satisfaction, at how good he's making you feel. At how good you taste. To be denied of this, for the past hour, was torture. He wants to pleasure and punish you, all in one. "Don't stop, don't stop."

Your legs wrap around his head in a lock as he ascends you towards your peak, slipping two thick fingers into your pussy. The size makes your walls clench around them. Rafe groans, the vibration against your clit pushing you further into your climax.

"Please don't stop, please." You moan in desperation, afraid of him pulling out again, tipping your head back against his pillows, your fingers gripping his hair harder. Rafe twists his fingers, entering at a new angle, allowing the cool sensation of his ring against your hot cunt and amplifies your sensitivity.

"I'm not going anywhere, baby."

Rafe quickens his pace, his fingers thrusting in with precision and hitting all the right spots. In addition, he slurps harder, tonguing your clit in a way that causes stars to blanket your vision. Writhing in pleasure, you moan and whimper, racing towards your orgasm.

"Come for me," he commands, feeling your walls twitching towards a desperate end, “let me hear my girl."

You release with a heavy cry, coming on his face and slumping back against the bed from pure exhaustion. Combined with the day you had, the double shifts you've been pulling, and the incredible orgasm you're given, all you want to do is sleep.

"Get up," Rafe declares, but you don't move. "Come on, sweetheart."

"Give me five minutes," you yawn, holding out five fingers while your eyes flutter. "I just need to..."

You don't finish your sentence, closing your eyes for a brief moment. That's what you tell yourself, and the last thing you remember before you fall completely in your slumber.

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Navigation — Part 03 | Part 04 | Part 05

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mirohlayo · 9 months ago

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YOU STOLE IT

( what happens when lando reunites with the girl who stole his first kiss ? )

warning : a bit of jealousy, fluff, lot of fluff

note : i love this okay. i won't write a part 2 so no requests please !!

word count : 4.9k

Lando hasn't always been very lucky in love. While he separated from a failed romantic relationship, he now finds himself alone, surrounded by his friends who are experiencing their perfect love, alongside their soulmates.

This doesn't bother him that much, since he himself admitted preferring to concentrate on his sporting career and thus become one of the best F1 drivers. No girlfriend yet.

But when he has to endure all day long the sweet words that other drivers address to their lovers, when he himself can feel love in the air, it becomes difficult not to think about starting a new chapter, this time here happy and healthy. A chapter that will fill him with happiness, as he has never been before.

Is this decision of not having enough time to find a girlfriend in order to concentrate on sport actually an excuse to hide the pain and despair that is gradually beginning to nestle in his heart?

He tries as best he can to reassure himself, to convince himself that he doesn't need this feeling of being completely in love and devoted to a girl. But when he continues to be the third wheel among the couples his friends form, he comes to desire a relationship more than anything else.

And every time, he can't help but think of this girl. This pretty girl he met during his summer vacation when he was 16. She was divinely beautiful, her shy but bubbly personality made Lando's heart capsize in a unique way, his whole being was alarmed just by hearing her name.

They both had a wonderful vacation, just the two of them together. During these two summer months, they did not let go of each other, spending every day alongside each other. They had become so close and complicit that they proclaimed themselves best friends from their first meeting during a kart race where Lando was racing for his life.

And since that day, they both developed deep feelings for each other. At first it was innocent. And it still is, in fact. They just thought it was a deep friendly connection, that they were just friendly soulmates. That those little stolen smiles and tactile touches were just childish, and just affectionate.

But it turned out that his feelings were ultimately more than that. More than just a friendly relationship. Lando found himself falling in love with you so hard, so passionately that he regretted not asking for your number when you two suddenly said goodbye.

You were his first love. And you still are. He thought that with time, you would eventually slip out of his head, that he would eventually forget you and move on, that it was just a big embarrassing crush from his youth but that he wouldn't think about it anymore growing up.

But that is absolutely not the case. He hasn't stopped thinking about you for 8 years. Every day, even before going to sleep, the only person he thinks about is you, that little girl he was madly in love with before.

He knows it, he maybe denies it a little, but deep down he realizes that he still has feelings for you. Perhaps less intense, less ardent, but there is no doubt that his romantic feelings will double in strength if he meets you again one day.

Of course, the old relationships, flirts, that he had before were sincere and true. He liked these few girls, that he was even happy in his last relationship. But for all that, it was by stopping this relationship and these flirts that he realized that everything brought him back to you. No matter what girl he meets, the only one who will forever remain deeply anchored in his heart is you.

He knows now that you two were more than friendly soulmates. Well, at least from his point of view. He was absolutely unsure about your feelings, which is why during these summer vacations, he preferred not to tell you anything for fear of destroying such a pure and important friendship in his eyes.

But again, he finds himself thinking about you, about how everything would be different with you. It was by going through all these different relationships with girls that he understood that he had never felt anything as powerful as with you. All these girls don't give him even a quarter of what he felt for you back then. So, how will this feeling change when he has the opportunity to meet you again?

The warm air of Saudi Arabia blows gently through the driver's curly hair. Free practice will begin in a few hours now, so Lando is using this time cooped up in the garage, surrounded by his teammate and his racing team, to discuss about the car.

“Hello Oscar!!” Lando's teammate is welcomed by his girlfriend, Lily, who smiles lovingly at him. The interview with the team is over, and she took the opportunity to spend some time with her boyfriend Oscar. The second driver comes to wrap his arms around his lover, before pressing a kiss to her forehead. Lando scoffs and rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. “Can you do this in private please? In addition to be the third wheel, I have nausea coming on.”

Oscar mocks his teammate, still holding Lily tightly in his arms. “Mate, it’s not my fault you’re a failure in love.” The Brit stops himself from hitting him, before putting on his McLaren cap. “Need I remind you that I’ve been in a relationship before?” He says to him with a completely proud look. “Couple who ended up in a failure, by the way.” He remarks, pointing at him.

“I really loved her…” The curly pauses. “It’s just that there is someone who- no, nothing, forget what I've said” He grumbles and withdraws into himself. Oscar frowns, Lily now concerned about the situation. “What?” She questions him gently.

Lando refuses to face this situation and simply shrugs his shoulders and ends up running away to join Zack further away. He can't say more, he can't talk about this girl who obsesses him. The two lovers look at each other confused by the British's behavior.

Zack smiled as he saw Lando walking towards him. “Are you already tired of feeling love in the air?” He says in order to tease him, which works. “Stop with that, I don’t care if I’m in a relationship or not.” What a lie. Zack knows his driver is lying, but he doesn't bother him more than that, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

“So, how are things going at Ferrari?” Lando asks to quickly change the subject, not wanting to face another charade about his catastrophic dating situation. The two men then turn towards the Ferrari garage, where they can see the two drivers and the mechanics. "They look like they have a really good car, that's all I can tell you. But that doesn't mean-"

But it's too late, the British Mclaren driver no longer listens to his boss. As the Ferrari mechanics and strategists set to work, he saw among this small crowd Charles alongside a girl. At first glance, he thought it was his girlfriend. But upon closer observation, the woman, who is facing away, has a little shorter hair and is smaller in stature. And her hair color reminds him of her.

The girl he's been hopelessly in love with for 8 years now. But it can't be real, right? Why would you be here at the free practice sessions, and even more so accompanied by Charles Leclerc? His eyes must surely be hallucinating. But that silhouette from behind reminds him so much of you. But he tries to reassure himself. Or rather convince himself that there are so many brown girls in the paddock that he has confused you with someone else.

“Are you still listening to me or not?” Zack's serious voice rang in his ears. "Uh, yeah, sorry..." "You must need some time alone, I think" A mocking but concerned smile takes its place on Zack's face. “Yes, I think I need a little rest, excuse me” Lando smiles at him with difficulty before his boss goes further away.

The driver takes a deep breath. He can't help but look away at Charles and that girl. The more he looks, the more he feels like he's going back 8 years and seeing the girl he loves in front of him. He needs to know. He needs to be reassured and to be sure if this girl is really you.

And as if fate had heard it, the woman disappears from the garage, and seems to be heading to the paddock. So the British guy doesn't miss this chance and almost runs behind her to follow her. A few people give him confused and questioning looks, but he continues to pursue this dark-haired woman who hypnotizes him.

As he gets closer to you, his heart beats harder and harder. He feels like he's going to burst out of his chest and this feeling of stress eating away at him makes him want to vomit. Because he is realizing that he may have found his first love again. His eternal childhood crush.

That all those nights lost looking for you on social medias, trying to find your account and reconnect with you may not have been in vain. That all those nights lost thinking about you for a long time before falling asleep may not have been wasted in vain. That all these memories of you that he replays in his head finally make sense.

So, he goes for it without a second’s hesitation. "Excuse me ?" He speaks a little hesitantly, afraid of ending up with a woman who doesn't know him. But when the girl turns around, her brown hair flowing in the air, her eyes meeting his, Lando's heart skips several beats.

He finally found you.

The look of shock and surprise on your face mirrors Lando’s perfectly. Neither of you knows how to react, so you stay stuck like this for what seems like an eternity. But it is during this moment that the air suddenly seems changed. As if a connection, which once existed, was finally present again. As if an invisible link had finally reconnected between you, and united you for eternity. This change in atmosphere makes Lando's heart beat a little harder.

It seems unreal. So unreal that he thinks he's dreaming for a moment. For years, he never stopped thinking about you. To wonder what had become of you, what you looked like. And here you are now in front of him, more radiant than ever. This supernatural trance finally breaks when you decide to speak.

"Lando?!...Lando!!" You can't help but smile with all your teeth, a smile so sincere and strong. And oh God he suffered so much for the last eight years without being able to admire your magnificent smile. He adores it so much that he dreams of framing it in his memory forever. He knows how weak he becomes every time he gets the chance to admire your smile.

He can't help the big smile that comes over him as well. He feels so many emotions inside him that he feels like he's going to explode with happiness. "Y/n! Oh it's really you, I can't believe it!!" He can't even hide his joy and excitement, which makes you smile more, although it already seems impossible considering your cheeks already tired from just smiling.

“Me either, I feel like I’m in a dream” You admit, still a little surprised. “I didn’t think you were going to recognize me to be honest” You tell him, trying to contain your bomb of joy. “How could I not recognize you, when you are literally the most precious person to me?”

This simple sentence makes you blush violently, as you try to hide your embarrassment. “Uh- well it’s been 8 years since we last saw each other, so I doubt I’m still your favorite person” You laugh sweetly, and the sweet sound melts his heart. “So don’t doubt anymore, because you really are y/n” He addresses these few words to you while looking into yours.

And that's when he realizes how much you've changed. But changed in an incredibly beautiful way. You have kept this divine beauty which never fails to take his breath away. Your sweet facial features, that beautiful smile that he can't help but be obsessed with, and just simply your face that he could gaze at for hours and hours without ever getting tired of it.

You were already very beautiful when you were younger, when you were teenagers. But now you are infinitely more magnificent and resplendent. You look much more mature, and much more feminine. He has the impression of seeing an angel, a goddess before him. And that too has not changed, you remain for him the most beautiful woman he has ever met in his entire life.

The same goes for you. He's grown up so much, he's no longer the immature but adorable little Lando you loved so much before. Now he's a real man. He is more muscular, more virile but above all he has retained this eternal beauty and attractiveness. His beard makes him look a lot older too.

And then his hair. You teased him back then because he had trouble combing his hair. But these beautiful silky and shiny curls make you want and want to play with them, to caress them until they are messy enough for you to style them again.

“I see that my karting races have brought you to the wonderful world of Formula 1” The driver then says in order to hide the fact that he has been gazing at you for a few minutes now. You chuckle, before nodding. “Yeah, it must be said that a certain Lando Norris passed on his passion for motorsport to me” He lets out a little embarrassed laugh before turning his attention back to you.

"But Lando Norris was replaced by his opponent apparently. Bad luck." Lando's eyes land on the monegasque Ferrari driver who joins the conversation, right next to you. His tone turns colder as he stares at Charles. He can't help but feel a pang - or rather a big pang - of jealousy at the idea that you potentially replaced him with the monegasque driver.

Maybe your heart finally fell for Charles? Maybe in the end you always preferred him. He can't get these assumptions out of his head, because they haunt him now and just thinking about them makes him even more jealous. How come you're as close to Charles as you once were to Lando?

"Wow, what a reunion! Y/n told me how you were best friends before" Charles smiles kindly, and Lando seems surprised by his words. “Did she really tell you?” He asks suddenly. You clear your throat, embarrassed by what you told your friend about your relationship with the Brit.

"Yes, she told me so many things about you. That you were her favorite boy - and still are, that she loved spending time with you so much, that she really found you adorable and cute-” “Hey shut up!!” You beg Charles, placing the palm of your hand over his mouth.

Lando feels himself blush violently upon hearing Charles' words. Is this really true? “Do you think I’m cute ?” He teases you gently, but you feel even more embarrassed that you end up pressing your hands to your cheeks to hide the already terribly apparent red color.

"And that's not all, I still forgot lots and lots of things... anyway, I'll leave you, work awaits me again" Charles ends up patting the Mclaren driver on the shoulder, before to give you a smile and walk away.

A silence falls for a moment. The atmosphere has suddenly changed, it's more tense. But tense because you now know that a more than ambiguous and friendly feeling has settled between you. Tension paralyzes you as you fight the urge to jump into each other's arms.

Lando finally clears his throat before looking into your beautiful eyes. “How did you meet Charles?” “I’m a friend of his girlfriend, and she introduced us.” You respond simply, staring at him intently. Until you notice that his eyes no longer support your gaze but attack your lips.

It makes you think of that moment. And it makes him think of that moment too.

He stared intently at your pink lips. He wonders if he can. If he has the right. If he can taste them again. To move his lips on yours, to see if they are as soft as they seem.

To relive this moment. This moment, which is undoubtedly the most beautiful of his memories, and even more the most beautiful day of his life.

England was probably now one of your favorite destinations. Maybe because you found your confidant there, your best friend, this boy as adorable as he was immature who dreamed of being a Formula 1 driver. But all good things come to an end, and you already knew that destiny had to separate your paths. That these two months of vacation spent alongside Lando will only be distant but happy memories of your adolescence, and that you will perhaps end up watching him race on TV, being only a spectator and no longer his childhood best friend.

Lando knew it too. He knew that you had to return to your homeland, because after all England was only the destination your parents had chosen for the summer holidays. But his heart was breaking, suffocating at the idea of letting you go, when he had just accepted the fact that you were for him, potentially the woman of his life. You couldn't suppress the feeling of apprehension and sadness, as each minute that passed reminded you of how much time you would miss, passing by at a crazy speed.

Sitting on large rocks on the beach, you both admired the beautiful sunset that was falling on this last day of vacation. Tomorrow, a new chapter would begin. So you wanted to fully enjoy your last moments with your secret lover, because you might never meet him again. Silence reigned, peacefully, while the sound of the insolent waves lulled your ears with a bitter melody. You hoped you could slow down time, or rather extend it, because he seemed so stingy and selfish about giving you a little more to even exchange your unspoken thoughts.

Suddenly, you felt the boy's gaze on you, a gaze so intense that you had to turn your head away to look at him the same way. A mischievous smile appeared on his thin lips, as he opened his mouth to say a few words to you. “You promised me a gift if I won my kart race. I’m still waiting for it, Y/n.” His eyes filled with mischief and impatience, as you remembered the promise you had made to him. He had won his karting race earlier in the day, and you had promised him a gift if he managed to win it. However, you didn't think it would be so easy, since you had secretly chosen a rather... surprising gift.

A kiss. Not on his cheek, his forehead, or even his temple. No, it was more than just a childish, awkward kiss. A real, quick kiss on his lips. You thought about it because, although you sincerely believed in Lando's phenomenal abilities, you didn't think he would end up on the top step of the podium so easily and quickly. And now you're in trouble. Lando continues to stare at you mischievously, still impatient to discover your precious gift. Your brain was no longer able to function, your heart was speeding up. Did you really have to go for it? Take the plunge and place your lips on his?

Lando's impatience and waiting were more evident, while you were still panicking inside. And then, that's when you understood. That there was only him in your heart, and that there was only one chance. Only one life to live it to the fullest, without regretting anything. That worst case scenario, you'll go home the next day, forgetting this stupid promise and action. That in the end, this vacation, this boy, and this kiss, will remain engraved as the most beautiful adolescent chapter of your life, and that you will remember it with full joy and nostalgia.

Then the next second, Lando was surprised to feel a pair of lips on his. The kiss only lasted a short second, yet long enough for him to feel a bunch of different emotions. His heart felt like it was stopping, just as his brain was trying to properly process what had just happened. A powerful, strange but sweet feeling came over the young British man. He had just received his first kiss, and even more so from the girl he loved desperately. As you pulled back to look into his eyes, his looked back at you, confused. But because he understood.

He understood that this was love. That he was destined to remain faithful to you, for the rest of his life, because that kiss was the promise that his heart would belong to you forever.

It's been a little over a week now since you and Lando got together. And these last few days have been filled with nostalgia, reunions and above all strong and intense emotions. After the Jeddah race, Lando asked you to spend time together. Finally, he secretly wanted to insinuate that he wanted to spend every minute of his time by your side. Like before, like eight years ago.

He had finally found his childhood crush, the woman he considered the love of his life, and so he wasn't going to let her escape so easily. Especially since this reunion made him rekindle these deep feelings that he had not lost, but balked at because he had come to the conclusion that he will never find you again. However, talking to you again, spending time with you made him feel the love he had for you, but so much more intense, so much stronger and more powerful.

He's never felt like this before with any other girl, he's never seen himself in this state. Completely and obsessively in love, desperate to receive your attention and stay with you. Finding you was a sentimental blow to him, while he found himself lost forever in your heart. Finding you sealed his heart in your hands for eternity.

“It was a great day.” You hasten to say as a pretty smile takes place on your face. The driver looks at you lovingly, as he nods his head in approval. “Especially when I beat you at karting. It was the best moment of the day” He teases you and you stare at him. "I drove into the barrier because you hit my kart with yours. It doesn't count" You try to defend yourself.

“It doesn’t matter, I still won.” He adds as you sit side by side on the warm sand of the beach. “Still as narcissistic as back then” You roll your eyes but don’t hide that teasing smile on your face. “Still the same Lando Norris that you loved so much” He adds, his eyes scanning the horizon in the distance.

You swallow with difficulty, a lump in your throat. “Loved uh…” You whisper to yourself. Raising your head, you are greeted by the sunset. A pretty sunset, the same one that accompanied you on that last day of vacation eight years ago. You can't help but feel this feeling of nostalgia, of happiness.

It's exactly the same pretty frame, and the same boy by your side. It reminds you so much of that beautiful day long ago. Your heart warms at the thought. You finally found the man you love so much, and you couldn't be happier than right now.

The waves play the same melody, but this time the melody is more beautiful. Brighter and strangely romantic. As you gaze at the clouds in the distance, you feel Lando's intense gaze on you. Exactly the same look he gave you back then. Then, as if you were rehearsing the same scene, like a play that you are performing to perfection, you turn around to lock your gaze with his.

And there, that famous mischievous smile takes over his lips. Eight years later, he has the same look, this smile that changed everything. "You forgot your promise again, like back then. I'm still waiting for it, y/n" His words hit you like a bomb. Because they are exactly the same ones he said to you the day you made that stupid promise to him. This stupid gift.

And as if you weren't stupid enough, you secretly thought of the same gift. You internally promised yourself that you would give him the same kiss if he managed to beat you in karting. And he did it, as if he had put all his soul into the race to deserve this surprise gift from you. You feel helpless as the same panic takes hold of you. Everything seems so unreal. This sweet memory will finally happen again.

You see his eyes drop to your lips for a split second. But it's that split second that changes everything about you. Now you know it's for life. That you found the boy of your heart, that you will never leave him again, even if he doesn't feel the same way as you. That you only have one life to regret nothing, and this childhood kiss you have never regretted. So you never want to regret it.

You smile shyly, and without him being able to do anything, you crash your lips onto his. Lando's eyes widen, but he finally realizes what's happening. And he doesn't wait any longer to move his lips to yours. But this time the kiss is totally different. It is no longer innocent and shy like it used to be. It's no longer a little kiss between two teenagers who promised each other a gift.

No, this time it's much more romantic. More intense, deep and passionate. It's so comforting and sweet. This kiss is the fruit of the unconditional love he feels for you. So, he continues to deepen the kiss, his hand delicately cupping your cheek while his arm comes around your waist.

He licks your bottom lip with his tongue before nibbling it gently, letting you completely devote yourself to him. He continues to kiss you passionately, but yet it's not vulgar or crude. It's a soft and pleasant kiss, where only love is exchanged between your lips.

You finally broke the kiss by pulling back, a shy smile matching your pink cheeks perfectly. He opens his eyes, a silly smile on his lips before quickly pecking your lips again. You stay like that for a moment, admiring each other for a long time, love in your eyes.

"I'm so fucking in love with you, baby. Not since yesterday, not since last week, no. Since ages ago, for so long that I've stopped counting." You smile at him tenderly, your cheeks still pink. "Me too, Lando. I've loved you since we first met."

He smiles wider as his arms pull you a little closer to him. "You know, you're the girl who stole my first kiss. And you're also the only girl who managed to steal my heart. My heart has been yours for eight years, since the very moment you took me kissed." You can’t help but giggle, which melts Lando’s heart. “I thought you stopped counting.” He scratches the back of his neck, somewhat embarrassed. “Let’s just say I kept counting because I was desperate to know when I was going to find the woman I love.”

In the meantime he leaned over you, until you were lying on the soft sand. “Every day you were gone was like a bullet in my chest.” “What a romantic, I’m almost going to get emotional” You tease, a mocking laugh coming from you. “Still as teasing as before” He adds, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"For eight years, you were the only girl who never stopped staying anchored in my thoughts. From our first kiss, my heart already belonged to you, and it will continue to be yours for the rest of my life. I never wanted any other girl but you, and I waited so long for you that I'll never let you go. I love you so much, sweetheart” His words warm your heart, as you gently caress his face with your thumbs. “I’m completely in love with you too, Lan.” And in these last words, he rushes to kiss you again.

You feel like eight years ago, like the two idiots in love who stole their first kiss. Nothing has changed except the reality that reminds you that your love is bound for eternity, and that it will continue to exist because it is deeper and more passionate every day. That this is the present moment, and that your hearts are finally filled with happiness to have been able to find their other half, after so many years of desperately continuing to live without the presence of the other.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #ln4 imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic

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thenightwolf51 · 1 year ago

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"Danny was born a Wayne" AU except he's Bruce's grand uncle. The result of a one time drunken affair, shortly before Kenneth Wayne's death, to a young unmarried woman who gave the baby up for adoption.

(Whether the Fenton's, and therefore Amity, were just ahead of their times or the DC timeline is shifted a bit so that DP happens in its cannon era is up to you. Dealers choice, though now that i know about her i just love badass widowed prohibition leader Laura Elizabeth Wayne)

Danny grows up knowing hes adopted and loved by the Fentons but something (dealer's choice) happens and he loses his family and friends (maybe the whole town goes too?). In an attempt to avoid a Dan situation he flees into the Infinite Realm and doesn't stop.

He just wanders, time passes in its weird Realms way, not that Danny truly notices. A protector spirit thats lossed everything it protected. Its a wonder he doesn't fade and he actually might've if it wasn't for his human side.

But its a tug at his core that brings him from his near catatonic wandering. Gone before he can even understand it but enough to shake him back to himself. Enough to know that hes nowhere near ready to go anywhere familiar so he continues on, his wandering no less pointless but at least he's aware again.

What feels like a relatively short time later he gets another tug, and this time he manages to follow it.

He follows it invisibly through a natural portal that drops him somewhere in New Jersey and all the way to a fancy hospital room in the gloomiest city he's ever seen.

In there he sees his half brother Patrick Wayne, though he wont figure out their connection for a few more years, holding little Agatha. She's adorable in her little dress and pigtails and her sweet face causes that familiar tug he recognizes from what must have been six years ago given the girls age.

Then a nurse comes in and hands a little bundle to what must be the mother (whos name i cant find) and Danny takes one look at the little core tugger who brought him here and just melts. Even without knowing yet that this is his last remaining family, his instincts latch on and he vows to protect and care for the Waynes.

And he does.

He finds his forgetful brother's documents and keeps Aggy company when everyone else is busy and soothes baby Thomas so his poor sister-in-law can get some more sleep. He ices fevers and bruised knees and helps on later games of hide and seek.

He very rarely becomes visible and only to the children. His grief over the Fenton's convinces him its better to protect his new family from the shadows.

Danny explores every inch of the manor, including secret passages and an underground cave system. He claims a forgotten room in the back of the attic as his own, which over the years fill up with knickknacks, heirlooms, and pictures of the family. Even a gift or two from Agatha, who hadn't stopped believing in their shadowy guardian like her brother did when Danny felt they were too old to see him without drawing suspicion.

The manor becomes his haunt and he always knows where each family member is within it. And when any guests have some no good intentions.

And when baby Bruce is born tugging at his core and with the bluest little eyes, he welcomes the fussy little thing. And makes sure dear Martha never knows just how fussy baby Bruce really is, otherwise she might've never had a full nights sleep.

Danny blames himself for not being there when Thomas and Martha die, and promises to never leave Bruces side, practically becoming the boy's living shadow. Watching over him as he gets older, secretly aiding him in his training. Danny feels a bit of pride when Bruce takes some inspiration from the old stories Thomas told him of the shadowy Wayne family protector when creating his Batman identity, glad his nephew still remembers him even if he hasn't shown himself since the now young man was six.

Danny continues to protect and care for the family in a variety of ways over the years even as the family grows.

Lightening Alfred's workload, softening Dick's falls, calming Jason's temper both pre and post pit, hiding Tim's coffee when the boy hasn't slept in far too long, providing plenty of shadows and hiding nooks for Cass, helping Damian hide the litter of kittens he found.

And no one seems to know he's there, except maybe Cass and he's pretty sure Alfred has been know since he first started working for the family. No one knows, that is, until Duke Thomas moves in and lookes right at him watching invisibly from the sidelines.

(@omnicrafts @dcxdpdabbles @hdgnj @ailithnight @nelkcats @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 i dont know, the main point of all this is that Danny's been protecting the Wayne family for decades and no one, except maybe Alfred, knew until Duke moved in)

#dpxdc #danny is a Wayne #danny is the wayne family protector spirit #duke can see ghosts #an alternative of this could be the same background but Danny decides to come in as the preCrisis “Uncle Philip” that initially raised Bruc #if so Agatha would definitely vouch for Danny #there's not much on Agatha Wayne but she seems fun

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pentechnics · 2 months ago

Text

Can't Get Enough

pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader rating: E | explicit | 18+ only word count: ~1,200 tags: nsfw, hate sex, angry sex, penetrative sex, throat/breath play, rough sex, multiple orgasms, angst, reader and din hate each other yet can't get enough, din makes you sad, no physical descriptions of reader, no y/n

notes: This isn't my usual style, but I just kinda had to get some stuff out. Not really edited or fully flushed out, for that matter. But hopefully posting something new will help me get further in my other work! I have something due for the d20 writing challenge and I am so sorry that one hasn't happened dfghjsfkl

taglist under the cut❤️

He slammed you against the wall with a loud thunk.

Your throat was sore from exertion, your pulse quickening with each groan he released.

His hand found your neck again and held tight, forcing you to look into that visor and see your own lust-blown gaze reflected back at you.

Fuck, he pissed you off. He got to see you like this, but you didn’t. Every time you two wound up like this, it felt like another charge added to an invisible tab. Like he owed you something, because you always gave him everything.

The thought was brief, soon vanquished by another angry thrust, pain and pleasure melding together and turning your brain to mush.

You peered in deeper, willing his eyes to show themselves. You channeled every ounce of mental energy you had left into him – how much he hurt you, how angry he made you. How angry you were at yourself to have given into this again.

And why? Nothing ever changed. He’d come over, both of you would be pissed as all hell, take it out on each other, and then he’d leave. Neither of you walked away feeling any better.

… You never stopped to wonder why he kept coming back. It took two to keep this up, after all. You sucked on his thumb when he stuck it in your mouth, wrapping your legs around him to bring him deeper into you.

You hated this. You hated that it always came down to this for you to feel something. Ever since the two of you broke up you’ve been searching for something, but hell if you knew what it was.

You hated that he was still your answer. You surely didn’t love him anymore, but you hated that you still needed him.

Especially because he doesn’t need you.

He rammed into you, deeper and deeper, sending you into convulsions. You screamed into the humid air, grasping at his shoulders for dear life.

His own cries followed, a loud ‘fuck’ echoing into the darkness. He pried you off the wall and threw you down on the bed, putting the full force of his weight into each delicious stroke.

You couldn’t help the whines that spilled out of you. He had a way of dragging out every single sensation until you were drowning in it all. Drowning in him.

It was infuriating.

You pulled yourself up to his shoulder, kissing and biting at his salty skin. A gorgeous, vindicating sense of pride soared through you when he let out a whimper.

You liked to think you were the only one who could make him do that.

It made him pound harder into you. Your bite matched, his skin muffling your screams.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” you panted.

“Yeah?”

You nodded.

“Good.”

He pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in. Swears piled out of you. Your heart was pounding, your blood on fire. He had the nerve to fucking chuckle.

“You like that, don’t you?”

“Bastard.”

He did it again. You wailed.

“Shit,” he whispered.

Any wittiness he had was gone. His pace became manic, one goal in mind. Your eyes rolled back as he continued to ram his cock against your g-spot.

“Close your fucking eyes,” he growled, pressing a hand over them.

The sensations grew stronger without the distraction of sight. Especially after hearing the familiar hiss of his helmet and feeling the subsequent mouth on your neck.

Your moan echoed around you both. Your hand came up to press against his head.

“Din-“

Your orgasm erupted without warning. He used his hold on your head to press you into the mattress, fucking you through it without relent.

“Yes, keep coming, baby.”

Wave after wave of pleasure had your legs flailing and your back arching. Stars appeared before you. The onset of tears built up behind your eyes.

“I’m not fucking done,” he mumbled.

His free hand began to swirl your clit. You thought you couldn’t scream any louder, yet he proved you wrong.

Your muscles tensed up all over again, that sweet coil threatening to break with each tiny movement.

“You better fucking come again,” he said through gritted teeth, like he was holding himself back.

The combination of thrusting and tight circles on your clit had you coming undone again with ease. Your second release was stronger, your body’s convulsions all the more erratic.

But he didn’t stop.

His hand left your eyes to grip your hips, and you had to fight with yourself to keep from looking at him.

“One. More.”

He pulled you to the edge of the bed and dragged you onto his cock over and over. The new angle was steeper, hitting something deeper inside that you weren’t aware existed.

“Oh god,” you sighed. “Right there.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whined.

He let out a groan and picked up the speed. You threw your arm over your eyes, afraid you wouldn’t be able to control yourself for much longer.

His breath was labored, accentuated with deep heaving. He wasn’t going to last much longer, which meant—

“Runnin’ out of time, baby, you better give me one more.”

You squealed with each pulse of contact with your g-spot, but his words made a bead of annoyance interrupt your trance.

No, you thought. You’re not gonna get what you want this time.

You squeezed your muscles, clenching his cock tighter between your walls.

“FUCK,” he shouted. “Feels so good-”

His grunts were too much to bear, each one scratching that sweet spot in your brain that went straight to your pussy, but you had to hold back. He had to break first. You gripped the sheets with your free hand and clenched your jaw, desperate to keep the impending third orgasm down.

His grip on you tightened.

“Oh, fuck you,” he spat.

“You already are, dumbass.”

You didn't recognize the graininess of your own voice. But what came after told you it worked.

He leaned over you and continued the rapid pace, both of you moaning into the air just before coming in a heap of screams and roars.

He buried his head beside yours as he rode out his pleasure, taking yours with it.

He eventually slowed to a stop, standing back up and taking care to pull out the condom with his spend without spilling, just as he did every time.

You heard the plop of it getting thrown in the trash before he leaned over you once more, caging in your frame with his arms.

“Look at me.”

“I haven’t heard the helmet-”

“Look. At me.”

Even through his labored breathing, his voice was unwavering. He put his hands on either side of your face, forcing your gaze to meet his when you did peek your eyes open.

The tiny amount of air that had replenished in your lungs was gone.

He was a vision: skin glowing with sweat, eyebrows scrunched with a crease in the middle, sharp cheekbones and a hooked nose…

… But those fucking brown eyes. They were just downright unfair.

You put your hands over his wrists to keep his hold in place. A glimmer of hope dared to emerge in your head �� is he letting you see him because he actually did care? Was there still something in him that loved you?

But then he let out a deep chuckle. Your heart broke all over again.

Why’d I even bother?

“You’ll never get enough, will you?”

You gulped. It always came down to this. But this time, you’d seen the truth.

Not only was this his last playing card, but you had a winning hand.

A confident grin bloomed across your face, the satisfaction already tasting so sweet now that you got to say this directly to his actual face. You’d get to see that smug expression die.

You’d get to finally be the one to let him down.

“Neither can you.”

****

taglist: @booksarekindaneat @bluemacaron @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @whataenginerd @girlofchaos @christina-loves @literallydontlook @the-little-ewok @salome-c @dear-fifi @mswarriorbabe80 @littlemisspascal @keldabe-kriff @kurlyfrasier @booksaremyyoga @elegantduckturtle @artsymaddie

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin smut #the mandalorian smut #my writing #din djarin x f!reader

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