#he simply radiated comfort the moment i saw him...

[angelpregdreams]

a fruitful union (1)

content: fpreg, half-elf/half-orc offspring, hard labor, hard birth, praise

wc: 4145

When Eirian Estainfae had been told of her fate as the bride to feared Orc chieftain, Rhesh Kharr, she sat in shock for several days. At no point in her life had she considered her future husband would be anyone other than an Elf - let alone an Orc. 

She had never imagined it would be Rhesh Kharr, even in her wildest dreams. 

The night before her wedding to the Orc chieftain, Eirian’s mother came to her chambers, sending the servants away as soon as she entered. Myfiria was nearing her third millennium but still radiated grace and beauty. It was something Eirian always admired about her mother, something she always prayed she acquired from her.

With how she had been feeling lately, she doubted her own grace very much.

“My darling,” Myfiria cooed at her daughter, smoothing her hair away from her face. Eirian couldn’t help but feel tears burn her eyes once she looked up at her mother. “Oh, cry if you must, my dear. But cry here, in my arms, and not again from this night onward.” Her hand tucked a stray hair behind her daughter’s pointed ear, then slowly drew her fingers up under Eirian’s chin - keeping her eyes upwards, “do you hear me? Do not cry in front of them.”

Eirian sobbed, remaining in Myfiria’s arms until the sun rose. By then neither of them had any more tears to shed, simply comfort in silence. 

After her mother left, Eirian sat in her bed to wait for her maids to come in to dress her, bare of all clothing, and her long black hair hanging down her back, loose and slightly tangled. She began to lose track of time after that, her chest aching and her mind moving too slow for her body. One moment she was in her childhood bed chambers, and the next she stood in an opulent war tent, listening as her…husband explained…something she hadn’t caught the start of.

“...-thers, they will not bother you either, so you are free to go about the camp as you wish.” Rhesh finished saying, using the common language. His back was turned towards her, and Eirian finally noticed that he had removed his tunic, the broad expanse of his back exposed her eyes. 

After a beat, she cleared her throat slightly and stepped towards him, replying in the common tongue as a courtesy in return. “I appreciate that-” Eirian stumbled over her next word, at a loss of what to call him, before the silence grew a second too long, “husband.”

A muscle in his shoulder twitched and she rose her eyes from it before the motion captivated her again, as he turned to stare at her. Rhesh lingered in silence after that, his hard stare pinning her in place, but she didn’t look away. After a moment, Eirian noticed his brow quirk slightly, then his face returned to a blank mask. 

“...You look troubled, wife.” Rhesh replied, his eyes roving over her form, not even attempting to hide his lingering gaze. He then turned towards her fully and Eirian felt her cheeks burn. 

His cock pressed against the seam of his trousers and took no effort to hide it. Unabashed, he took two steps closer to her, and lifted up a hand to her cheek. His thumb brushed over her skin and Eirian stilled completely - except for her heart beating rapidly against her breast. His hardened, dark grey eyes searched over her face, looking for…something she couldn’t figure out. 

“I won’t hurt you,” he finally said, dropping his hand and walking away from her, barely brushing against her as he did so. Rhesh left the tent without another word. 

For the following week, he did as he promised. He didn’t hurt her. He spoke to her every day, common things. About how the food was, how comfortable her cot was, if anyone was bothering her. It was charming, and the start of a very tentative romance. 

He gave her time, and she felt like she could never repay him for it. His kindness showed through, but only for her. Every interaction she saw Rhesh have with the others in his warband, he was rough and near-cruel and it never stopped making her stomach turn. But then he would sit across from her for dinner and ask her about what she studied. 

As the days passed, Eirian began to speak more and more, opening up to her husband. Both emotionally and physically. 

Rhesh expressed his worries about their need to please both of their people and the reality of now being split between two nations. She listened, inputting her opinion, the stress of the last few elven councils she had attended. 

When Eirian began to speak about her sadness, Rhesh placed a large hand on her thigh, squeezing gently but not pushing beyond that. That was the moment Eirian realized that she began to fall for the massive Orc. 

From there, their touches were casual occurrences. She would reach for his arm while walking near him through camp. He would slip a hand around her waist while guiding her through the entrance of their tent. It was innocent, it was gentle. 

Surprising both of them, Eirian made the first move. She was in the bath, a tub set up in the middle of their tent while he was out on a patrol. Except Rhesh returned sooner than she expected, leading to him walking in on her, naked, wet, and flushed pink in the hot water. Her eyes caught his, and she swallowed her nerves, beckoning him to join her in the bath. 

Rhesh raised a brow, silently asking if she was sure - to which, Eirian gave him a slight smile and nodded. 

His armor was removed, something dropped from his body with every step towards the bathtub, but his eyes never left her form. When he stood at the side of the tub, he was fully nude and Eirian couldn’t pull her eyes away from his massive erection. There was no hiding it, and it made her belly twist in excitement at his unabashed nature regarding his attraction to her. Knowing he was turned on by her, and her alone, it made her crave him just the same. 

The bath was tight with the two of them in it, but when Rhesh pulled Eirian onto his lap, straddling his hips, did they fit in it more comfortably. Eirian was a blushing mess, but she couldn’t help herself, and grinded her hips down against his throbbing member. His growl was encouraging and, if that wasn’t enough, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her down, his lips finding hers passionately. 

Eirian wasn’t a virgin when she met Rhesh but the amount of time it took to adjust to him was far longer than either of them expected. By the time she was comfortable, Rhesh swiftly set a quick pace, bouncing her up and down on his thick cock as she dug her nails into his muscled shoulders. Neither of them were quiet, his grunts and her whines were heard through the camp, but no one would comment on it later. 

When Rhesh pounded upwards, pulling her downwards at the same time, he rocked his hips against hers - then Eirian felt the warmth of his cum spill into her belly. She couldn’t help but whine, having sensed her own orgasm quickly approaching but when he stilled to cum in her, Eirian wiggled her hips needily. 

He grumbled into a chuckle, releasing her hip and reaching down to her clit, flicking over her sex swollen nub only a few times before she finally orgasmed. Her cunt clenched around his softening member and he groaned in approval, rocking his hips up to urge her orgasm to linger. 

From then on, their relationship shifted. 

They were friends, and now lovers - the two of them falling into a working marriage as a bridge between their people. 

However, the biggest bridge came when Eirian’s belly began to swell outward. Rhesh commented on it first, holding his hands over her lower abdomen and rubbing the slight pouch developing over her middle. As he did so, Eirian had the sudden realization, she had not bled in a while. No one ever confirmed the pregnancy, in fact, the two of them decided to keep their first child between them for as long as possible. A small act of rebellion against those that arranged their marriage without them. 

The problem came when Eirian was reminded she was quickly swelling with a half-orc child, and hiding her growing belly was harder as months dragged on. Someone finally caught a glance of Eirian and Rhesh together by a river, the two of them lost in each other, and not realizing a servant now had spread the word of her pregnancy throughout camp. From his war camp, it was quickly spread back to their home countries, and from there - a mess of missives and letters making demands of their unborn child. 

Pregnant and worried for her baby, Eirian cried one evening, the first time since the night before her wedding. Her hands were splayed over the expanse of her large middle, their child nearing full term now, at least with a normal Orc pregnancy. Elven pregnancies lasted longer, but considering the weight around Eirian’s hips, she realized this would not be like a normal Elven pregnancy. 

Silently, Rhesh came to her side and brushed the tears from her eyes, gently lifting her into his lap. He cradled her and held a hand over her belly, his thumb rubbing over her popped out belly button over her dress. There were no words spoken between the two, just her quiet tears and his silent support. 

The conversation about their first born needed to be addressed but for the night, the couple simply found solace in each other. From then on, it quickly became the two of them versus their own people to try and protect their future children. 

Eirian’s belly continued to grow, albeit slower than a normal Orc pregnancy, but just as big. Rhesh became concerned as the days drew on, his eyes and hands never straying from her swollen form in one way or another. His worry became palpable, the entire camp felt the pressure under his harsh orders. Everything had to be right, and Eirian had to be protected. 

Neither of them said it outloud, but they both knew that the Orc elders and the Elven council would be above subterfuge to identify the babe. Eirian knew that her uncle would pull no punches with this alliance, including swiping her first born if it meant he could manipulate the child of their union. 

Rhesh kept his camp in one spot for several weeks, not wanting to be on the road when Eirian began to labor. He wanted his camp set up so their tent was deep in the middle, making sure his men and personal guard were between them and those that posed a threat to his wife and unborn child. It made his men nervous but he was quickly becoming steadfast in his care, ignoring their comments of disapproval. 

After a long day, Rhesh finally came back to their tent. He had been out on a patrol, and after being waylaid by a group of river bandits, finally able to come back to Eirian’s side. She sat draped over their plush chair, specifically bought for her by her husband quickly after her pregnancy showed itself. Her legs were stretched out in front of her, her head tossed back over the chair, her dark hair messily thrown over one of the arms. Eirian rubbed her distended abdomen with both hands, a focused look upon her features. 

Her eyes fluttered open and she gave him a lingering look, one that told him everything he needed to know. 

“Our babe is ready?” Rhesh asked her, coming to her side immediately. He knelt beside the chair and took her small hand into his larger one. “Are you well, Eiri?”

Eirian released a long breath, continuously rubbing her stomach with her left hand. Rhesh squeezed her right, bringing it to his lips to gently press a kiss in her palm. She gave him a reassuring smile, “labor is taking a toll on me, I fear.” Her body tensed and she squeezed his hand tightly, attempting to control her breathing as she continued to speak through the pain, “it’s been…all day, I hadn’t expected…you…to be gone so long.”

The Orc held her hand, shaking his head, “I hadn’t either, forgive me. Do I-” he paused for a moment, letting her ride out the pain before continuing, “shall I get someone?” 

“No, no, please no.” Eirian shook her head, teary eyes boring up at him. “Do not leave me again. I just want us.”

Rhesh nodded, brushing away hair that stuck to her sweaty forehead. She pressed her head into his hand, giving him a tired smile. 

“The little one sits low, I think it’s almost time.” Eirian said, grunting and shifting in her seat. Her thighs were sitting wide apart, her massive belly jutted upward, the pressure on her hips intense and unable to be ignored. She groaned and tossed her head back, belly tensing as a contraction took over her again. 

“Fuck!!” She cried, the pain lingering for longer than before. Wiggling her hips slightly, she gestured for him to help lift her dress up. Rhesh complied quickly, shoving the fabric up her legs and pushed it over her hips and massive belly. Her taut skin was splattered with stretch marks, the soft pink flesh between her legs was darker, and swollen. Eirian spread her legs apart farther, gasping in slight relief as she was able to shift into an open position, the head of their babe sitting deep in her body. Rhesh grabbed on her legs and placed her foot on his shoulder, allowing her to push against it as she needed. 

Eirian gave him a grateful look, not pausing her focus as she felt another pain take over her lithe frame. On his shoulder, her foot trembled, her strength pressing against his and it was no match, even as she labored. 

“Breathe, Eiri,” Rhesh murmured, reaching up and caressing her thigh, “listen to your body.”

She made a noise of acknowledgement, a soft huff as she tugged the dress she wore up and over the rest of her body. Fully nude now, Eirian tossed her head forward and looked at her husband, whispering her discomfort, “...there’s so much…pressure…”

Rhesh nodded, sensing the strain on her body as she heaved heavy breaths, thighs now fully spread open to reveal her slit to him. Her foot on his shoulder dug into him, Eirian grunting as the pressure shifted even lower into her core, the weight of it causing her to rock her hips forward slightly and groan out, “fuck..fucking…pressure!” 

“Keep breathing,” he reminded her. In response, she gasped out a deep breath, eyes screwed shut in pain. “Good, good, again.”

Eirian continued to follow his instruction, even as a few minutes passed and several pains came and went. Her body began to arch with each pain, the tightness of her muscles around her middle making the movement nearly impossible to avoid. The foot not on Rhesh’s shoulder now draped over the arm of the chair, fully apart enough for her body to finally give her the urge to push with her next pain. The pressure between her thighs was too much to ignore and Eirian finally gave a grunt and pushed, her body wound tight and tense as her body began to strain. 

“Good push, Eiri,” Rhesh cooed up at her, reaching up to rub her other thigh, his fingers trailing over to her swollen womanhood, feeling every tremble in her muscles along the trail. “Good girl, good push.”

In the chair, Eirian groaned and pushed with her body, the pains now never letting up and the child sitting so deep in her core that she felt if she moved forward it would push the child back into her womb. “Nughhhh…” She moaned, pushing down hard. “Ah!”

For several long minutes, Eirian continued to push, making little progress, but still progressing. Rhesh watched her pussy turn a darker red and began to bulge outward. But as the next half an hour passed, that was the most progress she was able to make. His fingers rubbed the bulging folds softly, urging her to push as the next pain came and went and again very little progress was made. 

“It’s…it’s too big…fuck…” Eirian breathed, releasing her push with a whine. 

She brought up a very valid concern Rhesh had remained silent about for most of her pregnancy. The genuine fear of her body not able to deliver his child, their different sizes painfully clear to notice. If she wasn’t able to do this, if his child was too big and this hurt her…killed her?

Before he could consider his word to express his worry, Eirian began to push again, her body naturally trying to urge the massive child from her womanhood. 

She groaned and it quickly turned into a shout, crying out as she strained and pushed. Her pussy bulged out even more, and Rhesh cupped her lips, the head poking out just a sliver before sliding back in when she relaxed her body.

“Yes!” Rhesh encouraged, “I saw it, I saw our child, Eiri.”

After her mind was able to register his words, Eirian was able to release a breathy laugh, and immediately moaned as another pain began to build. In his hand, her folds pushed against his palm, the skin parting as the head was brought to just visible. This time remaining closer to her opening, the sliver of the head just in sight now and staying there.

The babe came down into a wide, wide crown, very slowly. Eirian whimpered and cried out with every push and urging down her body strained to do, fluid dripping out of her swollen folds with each time. The foot on his shoulder, lifted off, her hand coming up to grip the back of her thigh and lift it up and apart from the other. As her cries and grunts elevated in volume, Rhesh rubbed her skin as gently as he could to ease the pain but it didn’t matter, her pussy was burning. 

Eirian’s pushes lasted longer, and as the next pain began, she began to push down just barely and the head finally lurched free from her tight womanhood in a messy gush of her fluid. In surprise she cried out and reached a hand down over Rhesh’s, the both of them holding their baby’s head. Tears fell over her cheeks as she felt around the head and felt for the cord, remembering that small part of childbirth in the back of her head from her mother. No cord was present and she felt her body relax slightly, some of the worry and paranoia leaving her as she went through the action. 

The rest should be easier. At least, Eirian prayed the rest of it would be easier. 

With how far the babe had spread her entrance open, she knew the shoulders would be an issue if she couldn’t get them out with the help of her body. Waiting for the next pain, she felt the little one in her jolt, the sensation making her hips buck as she jutted them into both Rhesh and her hand. The babe nestled at her entrance even more at the action.

Between her legs, Rhesh smiled up at her with awe, the sight of his small, perfect, Elven wife in the middle of birth was just something he would cherish forever. She grunted and groaned and sweated and cried, but to him, right now - she was perfect. 

Eirian looked at him with watery eyes and gave him the smallest smile she could, the pain making it the only thing she could focus on in the moment, but she still cherished him and his care. 

Their baby, however, seemed more than a little eager, now that the head had been introduced to the world. 

“Ah - oh, fuck!” Eirian cried, grunting and pushing down as she felt the baby shift in her body again, the shoulders rubbing against her entrance. Her noises got louder as she strained and bore down with all of her might. Her husband offered soft cheers of encouragement but she was far too lost in her own world. 

As the more pushes she did, Eirian’s strength began to fade quickly. Her last push was almost half-hearted, the grunts turning into whines again, the pain and the pressure making everything that wasn’t the baby - hard to focus on. 

Rhesh tried to ground her, and her body continued its natural urges to push, but Eirian sobbed and shook her head. “I c- I can’t…” She whimpered, eyes wide and directed at her husband, the look of fear crossing her features made him wish he could take this from her. “Rhesh,” she begged, “please…don’t make me…”

“You must.” Rhesh returned firmly, the hand next to hers near the babe’s head brushed their fingers together,  just slightly in comfort. “You know you must, Eirian. The babe is almost here, feel…” 

He guided her hand to fully cup the head of their child, it barely fit in the palm of her hand, the head huge and impossibly wide. Her breath caught in her throat, realizing that they were so close to meeting their child and that she had already pushed out something so massive. Their eyes met and she continued to cry, but nodded barely, once. 

Grinning, he nodded back at her, pride bursting from his chest as she readied herself to push again. Eirian’s hand still rested on the baby’s head, supporting it as she leaned her body forward towards the edge of the chair to push with as much of her might she could still muster. 

The first one was painful, Eirian screaming as she pushed. The only payoff being a slight gush of amniotic fluid dribbling around the head, spilling out of her straining womanhood, and around their fingers. As she took a breath and began to push again, her entire body shifted. Several things happened at once. Her body lurched as far forward in the chair it could, her knees coming up as close to her shoulders as she could bring them, and then one of the baby’s shoulders slipped free. 

Rhesh cheered, urging her to push one last time, their child almost free of her body. 

Eirian didn’t hear him, her entire focus now on her final push. Her cries went silent, her mouth just open and eyes screwed shut. Her pussy was pink, pulled tight around the huge half-orc baby that hung out of her. The weight of it put more pressure around her entrance as it pulled downward into Rhesh’s other hand. With her own hand, she felt the shoulder that popped out, and reached down to wrap her fingers under it’s armpit. As she began to lose steam at the end of her push, Eirian kept going, her hand now helping her as she pulled and pushed the huge child out of her.

A splatter of fluid gushed out of her as the babe came out, and Rhesh helped keep the child in their arms in the mess, guiding the child to rest on Eirian’s chest. 

Instinctively, she rubbed the child’s back - a girl, Rhesh said - and cooed, tears spilling over her cheeks as she stared at the little one in her arms. 

The cry that errupted from their daughter’s lungs was shrill and it made both of them laugh in relief and pride. Rhesh came up closer to the two of them now, rubbing the head of their little girl. 

“She’s loud and looks healthy,” Rhesh mumbled without attempting to hide his proud tone, “mama did a wonderful job.”

Eirian still cried, but sniffed, unable to take her eyes off the babe, her fingers trailing over her daughter’s features. Every part of the girl was perfect to her already, the pale green skin, the wide doe-eyes, and the obvious Elven ears. A beautiful combination of both parents. She would be beautiful and strong. 

A sudden stake of fear pierced her heart, coming back to the reality that their first born was a girl. Both of their people needed a male heir to secure the alliance for the foreseeable future, meaning she would have to go through this again. At least twice. 

Eirian swallowed, glancing back down at her perfect daughter, Rhesh’s hands caressing both her and the child lovingly. The worry of the future still nagged at her but she smiled, reaching out to cup his cheek - fully intent on cherishing this moment as long as she could.

[thelostconsultant]

Double surprise

pairing: Lando Norris x reader

summary: Lando wants to surprise you, but in the end you surprise him too.

Lando could tell Max was already planning to bang his head against the coffee table, but it honestly wasn't his fault. Maybe he was terrible at making decisions at the moment, yes, so what? It's not like he had anywhere to rush at this time, and if he was a true friend, he would stay to provide emotional support.

Because Lando was preparing for something big, and the first step was asking a jewelry store employee to jump in the hotel he was staying in with a bunch of engagement rings. If he showed up in the store himself, social media would be full of pictures within a matter of minutes. He didn't want to ruin the surprise. And it was also much more comfortable this way.

“Lando, just pick the third one. You said it yourself, that's her style,” Max tried.

With a thoughtful hum, the Brit picked up the said piece and took a better look at it. “Yeah, it's true, but,” he began, then came to a halt as he grabbed the last one the jeweler showed him. “I don’t know, the first one is a classic, but what if she prefers something modern and trendy?”

The jeweler watched him in silence, the patience of a saint radiating from his smile. He had been there for two hours now, it was already nine in the evening, but he not once made a comment about still being there. “Which one is closer to what she usually wears?” he asked softly, trying to guide him towards a decision.

Lando thought for a moment. “The classic one,” he replied while he took a closer look at it again.

One big, round white diamond with two smaller stones on its side, completed by a yellow gold band. It was clean. Nice. Something simply elegant for her. But then he glanced over at the other one and saw the curved white gold band with a big, pear shaped yellow diamond, and a voice in his head told him that was the one. People would go insane over it when you shared it on social media.

He looked up at the jeweler with a thankful smile, then turned to Max. “All right, I'm buying both. She'll get the trendy one, but if she doesn't like it, all I'll have to do is pull out the classic option. She can even wear whichever she prefers depending on the day,” he explained his master plan.

Max let out a sigh of relief and mouthed ‘finally’ under his breath, while the jeweler clapped his hands together and closed the box with the rest of the rings. Meanwhile Lando had a huge grin on his face, clearly satisfied with his decision. He solved the problem. Sure, it took two hours, but he wanted to pick the perfect ring for you.

Since he specifically asked for rings already available in your size–which he only knew because he stole one you wore on that finger–he kept the chosen ones and said goodbye to the jeweler after paying for the items. Once they were left alone, Max picked up the rings and took a closer look at them, carefully examining every centimeter, every curve, and every stone. As if he was waiting for approval, Lando raised an eyebrow at him.

“Good choice if you ask me. Seeing her disappointed in your taste wouldn't make you feel good, even if she said yes,” Max said with a short laugh before putting down the jewels.

Rolling his eyes, Lando stretched his arms above his head and fought back a yawn. Media day always took a lot out of him and today wasn't any different. Add the stress of making the right decision and he felt like a truck had hit him. “Thanks, mate,” he told his friend.

“When will you ask her?”

“She arrives tomorrow, so I guess I'll get it over with as soon as I can. I need an extra boost for qualifying,” he added with a laugh.

Max gave him a ‘good luck out-qualifying me’ look, but Lando was too hyped to notice. So he let out a sigh and decided to voice his only concern. “So you want to get this over with? Sounds romantic.”

“You know what I mean,” Lando said defensively, giving him a disappointed look that was mixed with the hurt feeling because he dared to joke about him not being serious enough about it.

“Well, tell me how it went.” Max patted his friend on the shoulder before standing up, then watched him with a small smile. “But I'm proud of you. She's nice and has a good influence on you… You chose wisely.”

“Thanks. See you tomorrow at the track?”

Max nodded, then he raised his hand to wave him goodbye and left the hotel room. This left Lando alone with his thoughts, and he began to wonder if he would succeed. The two of you had been going through a bit of a rough patch lately, and he told you this trip was all about fixing that. You would join him for the race weekend, then you would stay in the area for a little trip, just the two of you, away from curious eyes.

His mother told him this plan of his might backfire, because you weren't entirely pleased with him right now, and who knew, maybe you would consider this a way to force you to stay in this relationship. He obviously didn't want you to feel that way, but he didn't want you to leave him either.

His phone buzzed next to him, and when he took a look at it, a wide smile grew on his face. “Hello, beautiful,” he answered happily.

“Hey, you have a moment?” you asked him hesitantly.

“For you? Always.”

There was a short pause, he could hear the traffic in the background, but before he could ask you where you were, you took a deep breath and began to talk. “So I said I'm gonna arrive tomorrow, but I won't.”

Lando felt like he was stabbed in the heart, like the air had been knocked out of his lungs. “What do you mean you won't? You promised to come here, you can't just back out of it! Unless it's a family emergency. Is it a family emergency?” he asked, barely able to hide the anger that latched onto his voice.

You remained silent for a while and he silently cursed under his breath. How could you do this to him? You had agreed you would join him two months ago, there's no way you couldn't plan that much ahead back then. But then you let out a laugh, one of those adorable laughs he loved so much, and his anger disappeared at once.

“I'll send you an address. Get in the car and meet me there,” you told him.

“I'll be at the track all day and you arrive in the morning, don't tell me you won't–”

You cleared your throat to interrupt him. “I was talking about now, you muppet. Or are you about to sleep?” you asked him teasingly.

Lando huffed and rolled his eyes. But then it struck him, you were talking about now, you were talking about him driving to that mysterious location, which meant… “Wait, you're already here?” he asked you.

“Just meet me. There's something I need to tell you.”

And with that you ended the call. He didn't have the brain capacity to stop you, and it didn't occur to him that he could have called you back. Instead he stood there, staring at the screen of his phone until the notification popped up. He put the address in the search bar and checked the map. It was close, only a fifteen minutes drive from his hotel.

Without hesitation, he grabbed his keys and headed to where you were apparently waiting for him. He was already standing in front of the elevator when he realized he left the rings in his room, and he didn't want to leave without them. So he ran back and picked up the two boxes, putting them safely in his pocket.

After a car ride that seemed painfully slow, he finally arrived at his destination. According to your message, you were right here, but when he looked up, he noticed it was a private clinic. Hoping this was the right address, he went closer to the door and it opened right away, so he went inside and tried to figure out where to go next. This place was huge, and at this time it felt like he was in The Walking Dead.

“Mr. Norris? Please, follow me,” a woman in her thirties told him with a polite smile, gesturing towards the elevator.

“Where are we going?” he asked when the door closed behind them.

The woman only watched him with a mysterious smile, probably perfectly aware of what was happening, but she didn't say a word. She probably promised to keep your secret, which was nice, but also extremely annoying. Why in a clinic? Did something happen to you? But you sounded happy, surely everything was okay.

Before they stopped, the woman handed him an eye mask and asked him to put it on. At this point he didn't dare to ask questions, so he did as he was told and followed her guidance after the elevator came to a halt. After she made him stop, he heard a door open and he was soon pushed ahead to enter.

He waited. Someone would hopefully come over to tell him what this was all about, and until then he decided to remain silent. And then he felt soft fingers trace his cheek, only to find the edge of the mask and slowly pull it off his head. There you were, happy and in one piece. With a smile, he was quick to pull you into a hug.

“I missed you,” he whispered as he kissed your head then buried his face into the crook of your neck. “What are you doing here? Or rather, what are we doing here in a clinic?”

“I have a surprise for you,” you purred into his ear, and he could feel your nails scratch the skin on the back of his neck as you spoke. It felt nice. He missed this.

For the first time, he took a look around the ultrasound room, and when he noticed the posters on the walls, his suspicion began to grow. “Wait a second,” he began as he took a step back and looked you in the eye. “Are you…?” He pointed at your abdomen with a raised eyebrow.

With a laugh, you took his hand. “I am. Eight weeks in,” you informed him.

For a while he was staring at you with a dumbfounded look on his face, but then he stepped closer to pull you into a passionate kiss. What started out as something serious soon turned into a series of giggles from the both of you. Lando was the one who pulled away, suddenly remembering something.

He excused himself and stepped outside for long enough to find the main ring’s box in his pocket, then returned with his hands held behind his back. There was no plan, at least not for these circumstances, so he had no choice but to improvise. You looked confused and he had to flash a smile at you to let you know it was okay.

“I… You know… Damn it. Okay, so there was a plan, I promise, but you didn't really leave me a choice. Pick a hand.”

“What?” you asked with a confused look.

“Choose a hand. Left or right?”

You let out a thoughtful hum, visibly thinking about the answer. Then you flashed a wide grin at him and said, “Right.”

It was in his left hand, but nevermind, he grabbed the box with his right one and held it out for you. “This is yours,” he said nervously.

The shocked look on your face made him worry, but it slowly melted away as you slowly opened the box and saw the ring inside. You took it out to take a better look at the piece of jewelry, and soon a smile grew on your face before you finally turned to him.

“What do you say?” Lando asked.

“You didn't ask me anything.”

With a roll of his eyes, he reached out to take the ring and took your hand as well. “Will you marry me?” You nodded without hesitation, tears already forming in your eyes, and he quickly put the ring on your finger before you could change your mind. He kissed you again, but he could tell you were looking at your new ring behind his back. “You like it?” he asked once he pulled away and took a look at it as well.

You nodded. “It's beautiful.”

Lando reached into his pocket for the other box, and showed you his plan B. “If you'd prefer something classic, here's this one too,” he explained.

“You're insane. One ring is more than enough,” you told him with a laugh.

“Well, I know how many shoes you have, this can't be any different.”

With a playful laugh, you slapped his arm. “An engagement ring is different, trust me,” you said as you leaned closer. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He looked around and motioned towards the machine in the corner. “So… Are we here so I can take a look at my child?”

You nodded and went out to ask the doctor to come in. Meanwhile Lando couldn't help but think about how much organizing it must have taken to get this ready, but he was honestly grateful, because it was a big surprise. A big and amazing surprise. This was one of the reasons why he loved you so much, and all he wanted was to make your life as good as he could in return.

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

Best Unremembered

Love Bites, Chapter 1 // Love Bites {Masterlist}

Ship: Astarion Ancunin x fem!vampire spawn!elf!Tav/reader

Summary: Waking up with a spotty memory and the only person you do remember is jarring enough—but it only gets worse when the people who remember you are monsters and strangers.

Word Count: 3,095 words

Warnings: exposition chapter, vampire spawn, Astarion lies, amnesia for the reader

Note: This is the first chapter of a nine chapter fic! It will be updated weekly. Check the posting schedule on my {Updates Page} and enjoy the fic! Please be warned it does contain some heavy themes related to Astarion's trauma.

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Rough hands grabbed you from the comforting darkness surrounding you, ripping you violently from deep sleep. As your eyes fluttered open, you became aware of a constant, throbbing ache throughout your body. You were quite certain, without apparent reason, that your rest had not been all that restful.

He was nothing but a shadowed figure above you, his white hair a glowing halo around his head, outlined by the sun, as he shook you awake. He hovered above you and you couldn’t see his face, but you could tell he was afraid—he gripped your shoulders with a tightness that suggested he was afraid you’d disintegrate if he let you go. In fact, the fear radiated so strongly from him you were certain you could smell it. 

Your name. He was saying it, calling to you, begging you to wake up. The moment he realized your eyes had cracked open, he relaxed, his head dropping to your chest and a sob of relief escaping him. Without thinking about it, you put your hand in his hair; the move felt natural and practiced, like you’d been doing it all your life.

But who the hell was this man and why was he crying on your chest?

“What—” You coughed; your lungs felt heavy and full of…something. Your voice was rough as you asked, “What happened?” The words had barely gotten out when you started to wheeze. Suddenly very certain you were going to throw up, you sat up quickly, throwing him off and rolling onto your side. At first you dry-heaved, aware of his hand on your back.

“Let it out,” he told you, patting your back. “Trust me, you’ll feel better once you do.”

His words were magic. Perhaps it was simply how familiar he suddenly was or how silky smooth that voice was, but your body listened to him. You hacked up everything: slime and black dirt and congealed blood. He held you as you heaved. When you finally stopped coughing, you leaned back into his chest.

“Astarion,” you breathed, his name and his person once again firmly in your mind. You knew him, you trusted him, and by gods, you loved him.

“I’m right here,” he soothed. “Oh, darling.” He leaned his head into your shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“I’m not sure,” you panted. “Gods, what happened to me? Where the hells are we?”

You looked around, taking in the dirt path the two of you were sitting on, tall plants and trees casting some shadows across the path. You sat in the blaring sun, both of you dusty. And you recognized absolutely none of it.

“I wish I knew,” Astarion said. “We were on that ship—”

You practically choked. You turned in his lap to stare at him. “A ship?”

Astarion brushed your hair out of your face, nodding as he did, and you got your first good look at him. His silver hair was covered in a fine layer of dust and he squinted his crimson eyes to stare at you. He was paler than the Astarion you remembered, the skin around his eyes darker than they were on the face that had smiled at you in your childhood. 

Your eyes dipped to his neck out of wary instinct. You saw the twin puncture wounds and your memory seemed to play catch-up. Your Astarion, your elf—now a vampire. You reached out one hand to touch his scars and he flinched. Unfazed, you brought your hand to your own neck and found with your fingers the same marks on your neck.

“You don’t remember very much, do you?” he said.

“I… I don’t know.” Your chest seemed very tight. “Astarion, I don’t know what I don’t remember, everything’s all…all jumbled!”

Astarion seemed to catch on to your panicking before even you did. “Hey, hey, hey. Darling, look at me. It’s alright. We’ll figure it out together. What’s the last thing you remember?”

You wracked your brain. “Well…I remember drinking together last night. I remember you taking me to bed. And then…nothing. Just waking up right here, right now.”

He looked disappointed. “Is that all you remember of me?”

“What? Oh, no! That’s just the last thing I remember. We…we grew up together, didn’t we? We’ve been together since we were little.”

Relief crossed his face. It was a strange sight; some of it seemed genuine, and some of it seemed very forced. You chalked it up to your spotty memory as he hugged you tightly to his chest. You wrapped your arms around him as one of his arms curled around your waist, melting into his hold. Despite the building panic in your chest over the gaps in your memory, you felt yourself relax the longer he held you.

“Oh, thank gods,” he breathed. “I’d hate to have to start from scratch again. It would be a little bit difficult to catch up on two hundred some-odd years, eh?”

You cuddled into him. “Astarion?”

“Yes, dear?”

“How are we in the sun?”

He froze. After a moment, he pulled away from you and cupped your face. “Darling?”

You touched the marks on your neck again. “We’re vampires, aren’t we?” He nodded, biting his lip a bit guiltily; the sight of his fangs led you to run your tongue across your own, confirming your suspicion. “So how the hell are we in the sun? How is this possible?”

He hesitated, a frown forming on his beautiful face. “Well, I—I don’t know, but I suppose it has something to do with what happened on the ship.”

You sighed. “I don’t remember a ship, Astarion, what the hells are you talking about?”

Astarion pulled you to your feet. “We should find you some water—it might help you remember what happened—”

You stopped, not letting him drag you down the dirt path. “Astarion, please!” He froze, glancing back at you. It took only a few seconds before your lower lip started to wobble and for tears to start to spill over. He immediately pulled you into his arms. “I don’t remember anything. I don’t remember being turned into a vampire, I don’t remember what we’ve been doing for two hundred fucking years, my body aches and I have no clue why, and I certainly don’t remember a ship, so please, for the love of every god I couldn’t possibly name, tell me what happened last night and tell me why I don’t remember anything.”

He kissed the crown of your head, pulling you in and keeping you close to his chest. “Oh, darling. We went out last night. We were drinking. We were…” He huffed out an embarrassed laugh. “We were very drunk, love. I suppose that’s why we…went out again last night. After we…made love. Gods, if we had just stayed in…”

You looked up and searched his face; regret had overwhelmed his features and his eyes had filled with tears. “Asty?” The nickname came naturally and seemed to bring him out of his memories and back to you.

“They stole us from the street,” he said thickly. “We’d gone out for a…a walk. Like we always do, in the last few hours of night. And then those—those Mind Flayers took us and put parasites in our eyes. I…I don’t know what they do, but it can’t be good.”

“Can’t it?” you asked. “We can walk in the sun again. Isn’t that good?”

“Well, yes, but we know nothing else about it,” he said, biting his lip. “I don’t trust it.”

Some part of you wanted to argue, but you could sense his agitation and dropped it. “So what happened to the ship? How’d we get to the dirt?”

“It crashed,” he said simply. “Someone—or something—must have found a way to force us to crash land. We were thrown a ways away, and then I dragged you out of the rubble to try and wake you.” Astarion cupped your face in his hands and pressed your foreheads together. “Gods, I was so scared I was going to lose you.”

You held his wrists and kissed the tips of his fingers. “There are others, then? Other people from the ship?”

“If any of them survived, yes.”

“We should find them,” you said firmly. “Maybe they can help us figure out if these…parasites, or whatever they are, are good or bad.”

“You want to find other people? As vampires walking around in the full light of day?”

You considered his fear for a moment, then tugged his collar up to hide the punctures better. You did the same for yourself. “If we’re careful, no one will suspect us. If we don’t tell them we’re vampires, how will they know? We’re out and about in the sun. Perhaps we’re just really, really pale elves.” You rubbed your neck cautiously. The wound, though closed, was tender. “I can’t believe I don’t remember being turned. That’s the sort of thing someone would remember, right?”

Astarion shrugged. “Those Mind Flayers may have messed with your mind. They certainly poked around in my head too much for my liking.”

You rubbed your arms and leaned into his chest again. He hummed softly and wrapped you in a cool embrace. “Even if I don’t remember much, I’m glad you’re here with me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He kissed your cheek. “I’m glad—” He frowned. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“Shouting.”

The two of you listened, bodies pressed close together, until the sound came again: a man’s voice, shouting for help. You spared a quick glance at Astarion and chose to ignore the apprehension on his face before dragging him in the direction of the shouting.

Just over the crest of a steep hill, you found yourself staring straight into a hole in the stone mountainside, glowing and pulsing with a deep purple magic—and a hand sticking out of it.

“Hello? Hello! A little help here!”

You and Astarion exchanged a glance. He shrugged. You rolled your eyes and took the man’s hand. You grit your teeth as you tugged. It was only when you slid toward the portal that Astarion grabbed on, too, and yanked you back—and the man out with you.

He dusted off his deep purple robes and stood up straight, smiling at you and Astarion. His smile wavered when he realized the two of you were little more than distressed vagabonds. But he brought it back up to his face and waved. “Hello! I’m Gale of Waterdeep. Who might you be?”

You blinked at him, then gave your name and stated that you were a barkeep in Baldur’s Gate, pleased that you had remembered even something about yourself, and introduced Astarion as your partner and husband. You noted how pleased he looked and wondered if you were exaggerating the truth a little bit—after all, Astarion claimed you had spent over two hundred years together, but you didn’t remember a wedding.

“Pleased to meet you!” Gale said, cheery. “Now how did you two come to be, well, here?”

You glanced at Astarion. “I, um, don’t remember much, but it’s got something to do with Mind Flayers and parasites.”

~❊~

In all your adventuring, with all your gaps in your memory, you hadn’t felt such an innate fear until the moment you stepped into the Szarr Palace. The feeling worsened as you followed Astarion deeper into its walls, feeling very certain you’d done this before, despite Astarion’s promise that he had kept you as far away from your vampiric master as he could, taking the brunt of Cazador’s rage. Such was why your back did not bear the same scars as your lover’s, scars you had painstakingly translated and attempted to soothe with balms and creams. 

As for Astarion, he was faring no better. In fact, he was much worse than you, his fingers trembling viciously and his eyes darting from shadow to shadow as if he expected Cazador himself to leap out of them. For all you knew, perhaps he would. 

The sickness in your stomach reached its peak as soon as you saw the cages. They bore other spawn and you knew that you and your lover had once been behind those bars, hard as it was to picture. Seeing the filth and hatred and despair that hung like a cloud over the spawn, accompanied by the thick smell of decay and rot, you were suddenly glad the Mind Flayers had decided to relieve you of much of your memory. You knew they had not been so kind to your lover; Astarion woke often from nightmares of this place and everything Cazador had done to him—putrid blood, physical torture, claustrophobic stone walls. The very same thing Astarion had protected you from.

“Astarion, what is this?” you whispered, moving closer to his side.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Cazador hid this from me. And the others. I never saw this while I was his…”

“He didn’t do this to us, then?” 

Astarion shook his head. “No. They…must be part of his ritual. But how did they get here?”

As soon as the spawn saw you and your little group, the shrieking started, so at odds with their blank, hollow faces. In amongst the screams of fear, of anticipation, of sick and twisted delight, you heard your own name and Astarion’s passed around. Spawn pressed themselves against the bars to get a closer look. One in particular, clad in a destroyed red frock, his dirty face half-hidden by matted, dirty grey hair, seemed to recognize Astarion. He pushed to the front and you caught sight of a rune carved into him—matching some of the ones on Astarion’s back. 

“You. I know you.”

You glanced at Astarion. He was staring at the spawn with a mixture of disgust and confusion. 

“You’re the one from the tavern. You smiled and joked and…got me drunk.”

Your stomach twisted. You looked between the two of them; Astarion’s confusion was melting away into horror, and the spawn stared at him with such bitter hatred that you knew he wasn’t wrong. He knew Astarion. 

“You— No. You’re dead,” Astarion insisted. Guilt crossed his face. A weight like lead sunk from your chest to your stomach. Astarion had talked, in fits and starts, about what Cazador had made him do, explaining why you remembered so few nights spent with him. Was it possible this spawn was one of his many conquests? One of the victims Cazador had forced him to bring back?

Had Cazador really kept them alive for this long? 

“You called me so many sweet things,” the spawn continued, his voice broken. “My name sounded like a lyric on your tongue.”

Astarion squeezed his eyes shut. “Sebastian.” Gods above, it really was beautiful to hear him say it. And you, better than anyone, knew just how sweet Astarion could be.

“You remember me,” the spawn—Sebastian—whispered, amazed.

“You were handsome,” Astarion remembered. “Shy. You’d never been kissed.”

Sebastian was almost nodding. “You taught me how.” Your heart shattered in your chest. “And then you destroyed me.” The spawn screamed, lunging, his hand reaching through the bars to grab at Astarion. But he was just out of reach. In his despair, Sebastian fell to his knees.

“It can’t be,” Astarion whispered, his face falling. “He kept them. He kept them all. My conquests. He told us he was feeding on them, not that he was turning them!” His eyes scanned the locked up spawn. “I know so many of these faces. I don’t… Gods.”

“How long?” Sebastian demanded.

“What?” Astarion asked, startled.

“How long have I been down here?” Sebastian asked, getting back to his feet. 

Astarion looked at his feet, then back up at him. “One hundred and seventy years,” he said, his voice heavy. You released a slow breath, feeling the weight of every one of those years harshly, even if you remembered very little of them. “You were one of my first.”

“My family,” Sebastian whimpered. “My friends… They’re gone. You took them from me. You took everything from me!”

“We can help them, can’t we?” you asked, looking at Astarion. His lower lip trembled. “Can’t we?”

“Help? Help? There’s no helping us while that monster lives,” Sebastian spat. 

“That’s why we’re here—to destroy Cazador,” Astarion explained.

“You can’t. It’s not possible.” Sebastian’s eyes landed on you. “You tried it once. And look what came of it.”

Your skin crawled. “What? Astarion, what does he mean?”

Astarion wouldn’t meet your eyes.

Sebastian barked out a terrible laugh, roughened by years of intermittent screams and silence. “He hasn’t told you? Of course not. And you don’t remember. Most of us don’t. It’s like he breaks us, ruins us and our minds when he turns us, feeds on us.”

“Astarion!” Your voice was rising with alarm. “What the hells is he talking about?”

“We thought you might be the answer,” Sebastian whispered, his glowing red eyes fixed firmly on you now. “You were so strong. So brave. You faced him with a smile, even though you were crying. None of us were like that. We all screamed as we went to our graves. So we…hoped. It was a mistake to hope that you could change things.”

You took a step back, swallowing harshly. You were trembling. “Sebastian, please… We’ll free you from this nightmare. We just need to know where Cazador is so we can kill him.”

“Kill him?” he questioned, almost scoffing. “It’s not possible. You of all people should know that. You tried to run. And Cazador took you anyway. Because of him.”

His last growl was directed at Astarion. 

Your heart dropped to your feet. Every gnawing feeling you’d ever had that Astarion wasn’t being completely honest with you rushed back, hitting you so heavily it was hard to believe you’d ever ignored your doubts. You kept your eyes glued to Sebastian, not sure you wanted to see your lover’s face. “Astarion. What is he talking about?”

Please. You had no idea who you were praying to, but you knew you were. Please, let me be wrong. Let Sebastian be wrong. 

“Why do they know me, Astarion?” you asked. “Why do they remember me, when I don’t remember them?”

At last, you looked at him. His eyes were fixed on you, shining with tears, his guilt even more obvious than it had ever been. It felt as if your body was collapsing in on itself. A steady ringing built in your ears as he whispered your name, the first of his tears falling, and it was lost in Sebastian’s terrible, terrible laugh.

☞ ❊ ☜

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Ancunin

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the Astarion taglist!} @wayward-hel@cheeslyy@ofmyth-andmagicart@neetheslayer@whispering-depths@freesidexjunkie@lightsinmycity@the0ldmann@gobbodoggo@oooof-ifellforyou@beeblisss@fangboner@aquaarietes@fiercest-eigengrau-skies@niqhtfell@call-me-nyxx@lueji-m@ceres-xiv@tricksy-trinity@graynstairs@rosa-rubus@ynisthatyou@thegoodwitchs-blog@catching-fire-in-the-wind

[sherlocks-blanket]

Drunk Confessions

A/N: Finally, after having not posted for such a long time... I can post a fic I had as a WIP since last year... I hope I get to write more again, but I can't promise anything. Anyway, I hope you guys like it.

Words: 1k

Warnings: Nothing, just some drunk sherlock?

After you received a message from Sherlock, that you should come as soon as possible to Baker street, minus the spelling errors; which you dismissed he messaged while being in trouble… You dropped anything you where doing and hurried outside to hail a cab; to take you to 221B.

The moment the cab halt, you paid the driver and rushed up the stairs to find Sherlock with John sitting towards each other with notes attached on their foreheads and from the liquor in their hand; you could probably tell, that they had too much for this evening, with how wasted they are…

As you gasped for air, you let yourself drop on the doorframe, drawing the attention from the two men. You noticed a smile spreading on Sherlock lips the second his eyes where on you, but it wasn’t a fake one; it radiates warmth like he was pleased to see you came, which was unlike for Sherlock to do. Not that he can’t do it, but when he does; it’s either false ones that you can tell apart from the real, since the real ones are rare and shows how comfortable he is with someone, that he shows it; unlike the fake ones, where he drops his smile immediately the moment the person turns they face away from him; which you noticed a few times…

A giggle from John broke the awkward silence in this room. You turned your gaze to the doctor and raised an eyebrow at him.

“I kneeeeeeeew it!” he exclaimed, pointing to Sherlock, then he took a sip from his drink.

You furrowed your brows in further confusion, but shaking your head; you got your phone out of your pocket and wrote Mary; telling her she should pick up her drunken fiancé… Just as you were done writing the text; a client walked into the flat and asked for Sherlock; but you kindly explained she should come tomorrow, since it gotten late. It made you wonder if clients show up at any hour of the day…

Sherlock, of course…He protested that the client shouldn’t leave even after the client had already left. After all, who knows? It could’ve been a missed opportunity for a case that could have gotten his interest; but you simply pushed him back in his armchair when he tried to stand up.

“You can work tomorrow…Now you better rest, so you’ll be sober for the next day…”

He stared with a sharp glare, like he wanted to prove with some deductions he’s capable of working, but he faltered instantly; which you took as a sign that he gave in. When you turned to help John downstairs; where Mary would pick him up; still you felt his eyes bore onto you.

As Mary left with John; she gave you an apologetic glance before they got into a cab; leaving you to deal with a drunken Sherlock.

When you stepped through the door, Sherlock sat still in his armchair, his posture relaxed; his eyes on something. You never saw him resting like that, but it most likely came from the alcohol…

His eyes wandered to you, noticing you were present again. There was this again…

This warm smile.

“Well…let’s get you sobered up…” you mumbled, leaning your hand on his shoulder to animate him to standing up, which he didn’t and instead, he took your hand in his own; staring at it like it was a piece of art.

“You have such soft hands...”,he murmured, keeping his eyes on your hand; rubbing his thumb along your palm.

You gently withdrawn your hand feeling the a heat rise on your cheeks; before you could say something again that he needs to rest, he slowly stood up wobbly on his own; leaning his hand your shoulder for support.

With you by his side, you brought him to his bedroom and only helped to remove his shoes and his suit jacket. It didn’t need to get more awkward than it already was for you.

Just as you turned the night light off and wanting to head to the living room; you felt your hand taken again and a warm feeling on it. You peeked over your shoulder; seeing Sherlock lean his cheek on it, with his eyes closed.

You tried to withdraw your hand, but at the same time, you didn’t mind it much. So, you stayed for a while and heard Sherlock snoring softly.

**********

The next morning you were preparing some tea and some water with some painkillers. You assumed he'll have a headache after yesterday…

Just as you wanted to get your stuff from the couch and leave for your own flat; you heard a door open followed with some footsteps.

“Morning.” You greeted him with a smile, which disappeared the moment you thought about yesterday again... It made you wonder if he remembered his drunken behavior or if he ‘deleted’ it from his ‘hard drive’.

Sherlock acknowledged you with a slight nod and went for the water and painkillers.

You watched him silently drink the water but felt uncomfortable for you staring at him. So you thought it was better to go. As you took a single step; Sherlock called your name, drawing your attention back to him.

“About yesterday-“

You interrupted him, holding your hands up in defense; ”No! It’s alright…I know you didn’t mean that…“

Sherlock stared at you, and you could tell he thought for his next words, as he slowly opened his mouth to only closed it again.

“I..I really like you, and I mean... It”

You raised your eyebrows in confusion from this explanation about yesterday until he added.

“ I mean…I like you more than a friend…”

You froze on the spot at his confession as weird as the situation was you wanted to show him you felt the same, so you got out of your stupor and hugged him. It definitely caught him by surprise.

“Do you…feel the same?” he asked cautiously.

You only nodded and said while chuckling; “Yes.”

Sherlock hummed in thought. “I might have to thank John for this…it was his idea to text you…”

You thought again before you slowly connected the dots about yesterday. Like when John said he knew it…Did he see that you liked Sherlock or Sherlock, you or even both? You shook the thoughts away since they didn’t matter anymore. The only thing what mattered…

…was now.

[delulustateofmind]

Potions & Shadows (Part IV SMUT)

Summary: An old neighbor of Feyre's is revealed to be not who they seemed when Feyre was a child. Leading to Feyre needing the once-village apothecaries' help. Inspired by Frieren: Beyond Journey's End.

A/n: THERE'S SMUT! Just a warning before you read, I am still learning how to write smut. Seriously if someone could create a writers workshop for that, that would be amazing. Feel free to skip if you are not comfortable with smut. This takes place after the first high lord meeting in ACOWAR. Hope you all enjoy, because I was a blushing mess writing this thing.

part one, part two, part three

Word Count: 2.5k

Taglist: @cherry-cin, @sassybluebird, @aehllitas-blog

** Minors DO NOT INTERACT under the cut pls! **

Warnings: Fingering, pet names (Princess, sweetness), mild swearing, lots of repeated words. Oral. Praise. Squirting. Let me know if I'm missing any!!

Azriel had flown off into the night after that disaster of a High Lord meeting. Perhaps he was the cause for the events to turn so sour especially when he had choked a certain High Lord’s son. The male was practically begging for it, for throwing a comment like that to Mor or perhaps it was the comment he had whispered in Azriel’s ear when he throttled the son into the ground, “You smell like an elven whore”. After the meeting had adjourned and Mor beckoned to Helion’s room, the noises shared between the two just caused his mood to turn colder. As long as he was back in time for the meeting tomorrow morning, Rhys could give two shits what he did with his time. Which led him to the healer’s cottage. 

You had your silk white robe tied loosely around your body, as the moon shone upon you, creating a soft glow on your skin and rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you opened the door for him. The moment he saw you, he was silently thanking the mother that you could not scent the arousal and pent-up frustration that radiated off of his body. Azriel crept closer to you and softly murmured.

“Can we speak in private?” His hand reaches to push a strand of hair behind your ear, earning a blush from your cheeks. Azriel could hear your pounding heartbeat and the way you looked at him with a mixture of sleepiness and confusion. You simply nodded and ushered him quietly to your room. You wondered if he would even fit in the room. However surprising that he did, you cast a spell around the room to keep any noise from escaping. Azriel’s typical warm eyes were darkened. 

You wrapped your robe more securely around yourself, yet Azriel could still see the soft buds of your breasts through the sheer fabric. He quickly directed his gaze elsewhere, his cheeks flushing with heat. You noticed the tension in his posture and the shadows that seemed to move faster, swirling around him. He loomed in the small space of your humble bedroom, seeming larger than usual with his wings folded tightly against his back. 

“Azriel,” you began softly, even cautiously, “what’s wrong? Aren’t you supposed to be at the meeting?” 

Azriel didn’t immediately respond. Instead, he paced the length of the room. His boots, were heavy on the ground with each step, his entire presence overwhelming in the confined space. Finally, he stopped, facing you, his expression a mixture of frustration and something deeper-something raw and unguarded. 

“I need…” His voice was a low rumble, the words catching his throat as if he was struggling to find the right ones. To perhaps not scare you as a primal growl was pushed back. “I need to be away from them. From all of it. Just for a while.” 

You stepped closer, and your heart that thundered in your chest. The way he looked at you with those dark golden eyes, with such intensity, made your breath catch. “What happened?” 

Azriel, the one everyone thought was the most calm and collected of the inner circle, quickly lost all sense of restraint by how close you were. His gaze settled on your collarbone and then back to your watercolor eyes that seemed to shine from the creeping moonlight. A bitter laugh escaped his lips. “A lot. Too much.” He shook his head, a hand running through his dark curls. Something that he has done too many times tonight by the looks of it. The way they trousled, yet still seemed alluring. His entire presence was captivating, to say the least. “Things were said. Actions taken. And now…I need to not think.”

You understood. Sometimes the world around us was too loud. Sometimes you needed the world to quiet down, for peace to overcome you. Yet, this was something you haven’t seen in him, in his stoic exterior. You reached out, gently placing a hand on his arm, which caused him to freeze a little as his gaze lowered to your neck again. “I’m here for you, Azriel. You’re free to speak freely.” You whispered to him softly. 

His response rattled you, heat flushed you as his words spook lowly, “And can I act freely?” He whispered, His gaze still on your neck, his eyes softening just a fraction.

Was the air in the room always this heavy? Had your heart always been this loud, like a war drum set for battle? Have you always felt this emotion? How about the heat pooling within your body?

Questions pondered you, holding your tongue, but you nodded your head yes. 

Without another word, he pulled you into an embrace, his arms wrapping around you as if you were his lifeline. You could feel the hardness of his muscles, years, even centuries of training, causing tension to coil within him. His lips brushed against your neck as a sound you’ve never made before escaped your lips when you felt him bite down. Time seemed to stand still in that moment, as if the outside world had ceased to exist, leaving the two of you in the heat of a moment. A feeling you have never felt before as he licked the bite mark, the blood that trickled slightly. When he looked up at you with those golden, hazel eyes with the blood-stained on the corner of his mouth,  Azriel shifted slightly, enough to look at you, his gaze searching yours. 

You could barely breathe, caught between the intensity of his gaze and the primal connect that surged between you. His fingers traced your jaw to the back of your neck, his touch both gentle and possessive. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he whispered, his voice rough with need and laced with a whine as you pressed closer into him. 

“Oh how I’d worship you,” he muttered as his eyes scanned your features, perhaps waiting for a confirmation that you were okay with this, “Have you ever been with a male? Have you ever been touched or kissed?” His words made your heart flutter but you quietly muttered that you haven’t as your voice trembled. 

“I haven’t had the feeling to ever…do that sort of thing,” You whispered, those words seemed to have ignited a feeling inside him because his voice had a hint of something feral. 

“How about now,” he gently nuzzled his face into the nape of your neck as his fingers moved to caress your collarbone. Pushing the robe slightly, causing your breath to hitch. 

“You are making me feel things that I have never felt before. Things that make me feel hot and heavy,” Your words came out laced with anticipation. A rush of emotions overwhelmed you as you whispered to him, “but I’d be willing to…feel these emotions with you.” 

The answer Azriel was waiting for he nipped your neck. Another whimper escaped your lips. With a growl, his fingers traveled back to your chin lifting slightly so his lips could meet yours. Captured, into a kiss that was gentle, yet demanding. Your body reacted upon instinct, as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing closer to him, feeling the roughness of his leathers pressing against the thin fabric of your robe. 

He gently lifted you into his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist. Both your breaths ragged in-between rough kisses, he carried you in his arms to the bed. The world outside faded entirely as he laid you down genly, his body hovering over yours, his eyes searching yours for any hesitation. When he found none, he gently whispered in your ear. 

“Are you sure? We can always stop here,” he asked, his breath hot against your skin. 

“Yes,” you breathed, your hands raching up to tangle in his hair, pulling his down to you. 

With that, Azriel’s control snapped. His lips had descended on yours again, his hands roamed your body, pushing your robe aside. His skilled scarred fingers finding your perky buds. Tuggling gently, as your breath would hitch, he broke your kiss to travel to the small bud he was playing with. 

“So beautiful,” he groaned as he licked the bud gently, earning another whimper from you as you covered your eyes, “None of that love, don’t ever hide those gorgeous eyes from me.” You looked down at him, panting like a dog in heat.

What was this feeling and why did you feel so obsessed?

Azriel continued to torment your breasts with his rough hands. Torment, might not be the best word, in fact, it would be worship. As he would suckle on them, pinch them, lick the lingering sensitivity away. Leaving gentle nip marks that looked like small cherry blossom leaves. 

Yet, Azriel did not stop there. As his kisses descended upon your body, his markings upon your body seemed to trickle down to the pool of heat between your legs. Using both his hands, he spread your legs apart. His golden eyes meeting yours once more for confirmation, you gave a simple nod. 

“Not uh, princess, I need words,” he muttered as his head laid against your thigh. His gaze set upon you, “Let me hear that beautiful voice of yours.” He gently nipped your inner thigh and licked the spot to relieve some of the pain. 

“Please…just…touch me, relieve me of this heat” You whimpered, everything felt so warm. So overwhelming. This new feeling of passion. 

“Good girl,” Azriel muttered before planting kisses, everywhere else but the place you wanted. Gently pushing your wet panties aside, his gaze still fixated upon you. Dragging one scarred finger between your slit. Your breath hitched as you whimpered out another moan and a curse. His name was like a prayer on your tongue as he kissed that bundle of nerves. 

Azriel had been with many women in the past, but right now in this very moment, he was sure he had never experienced a taste like this. You tasted as if you were ambrosia made for the gods, leaving him eating like a man starved. Your whimpers only encourage him. His eyes closed as he rutted against the bed. If he didn’t have years of restraint, he was sure he would have came in his pants the moment your sweet juices touched his tongue that he kept sliding inside you. 

One of your hands was grasping his that was resting upon your lower abandon as if you were holding it for dear life or perhaps to ensure you could not run away. Your other hand was gripping the sheets, squeezing with your might. You felt his other hand between your legs spreading your swollen lips to slide a finger into you. As Azriel lifted his head up, revealing your juices that glistened in the moonlight on his beautiful face. 

“Now princess, you’ve never came before right?” Azriel said gently as he stroked that finger within you, pressing on your walls. Your gaze met his as you shook your head no, not sure whether words could form out of your mouth anymore. The feeling of his finger, causes warmth to build up within you. Azriel, could not believe how wet you were, you were practically flowing. Pushing down his own needs, he continued, “I’m going to talk you through it okay? I’m going to be honest, I don’t think I could fit for a while. So we're going to go really slow and ease you up so that one day. Not tonight. I could enjoy the pleasure of being in you. Keep your eyes on me the entire time princess, don’t you dare close them.” his words came out with a husky growl. A need for him to be inside you, to feel those walls clasp onto him as they were currently holding his finger tightly.

You nodded, as his gently motioned his finger inside you, keeping it shallow as he pressed against your upper wall. Another moan was earned as the room seemed to now be filled with squelches and other lewd noises. You panted, cheeks flushed, as he held his gaze on yours with a smirk. “Comfortable? Feel good, sweetness?” Azriel groaned as he looked at the wetness seeping out of you and then settled his gaze back on you. “See, I am trying to find your sweet spot, everyone is different but everyone has a spot that-” his fingers traveled deeper, keeping the same pressure until he found it. Your eyes rolled back as he kept applying pressure to that spot. Pure pleasure and relentless torment on that spot. Your walls tightened to the point where he wasn’t sure if he could move them anymore, “Relax princess,” he chuckled. You whimpered in return to his comment. Noises that sounded so lewd, noises you have never made in your three hundred years. “I’m going to speed up okay?” Azriel’s motions sped up and pressed a bit on your lower abdomen earning a silent scream from your lips as hot liquid gushed out. 

A virgin and a squirter? Mother above save him. 

You blacked out moments later, the intensity of the night and the overwhelming emotions taking their toll on your body. Azriel gently cleaned you up with a towel, his touch tender and careful not to wake you. He tucked you into bed, watching your peaceful face for a moment before heading to the restroom attached to your bedroom to take care of his own needs. Thankful that you had your own bathroom, in concern about how Madja might react to finding out he had kept her new healer up all night. 

When finished with preparing for bed, for a least a few hours, Azriel climbed into bed beside you, wrapping his arms around you and feeling your warmth against him, those concerns melted away. He nuzzled his face into your neck, breathing in your soothing scent, and for the first time that night, he felt a sense of peace. 

While the night had been filled with the sound of your shared breaths, the formation of new feelings, and overwhelming emotions, there was a connection between you that both of you desperately needed. In each other’s arms, you found solace and a sense of belonging that had been missing. 

Azriel was determined to make the most of the night, with only a few hours left to enjoy your comfort. He wanted to ensure you knew you were cherished and not taken advantage of. He made a mental note to send you flowers in the morning, perhaps a tea as well for all the markings he left upon you. A gesture of sorts to show his care and the growing need for you to be his. 

With a contented sigh, Azriel closed his eyes, allowing the rhythmic sound of your breathing to lull him into a restful sleep. The moonlight cast a gentle glow over both of you.

[mothwingwritings]

What Picture Of You The Baki Men Choose As Their Phone Background, Pt. 1 <3

Reader X Baki, Retsu, and Katsumi

I saw this prompt for some other fandoms and thought it was absolutely adorable, so here are some silly little sweet headcanons for your reading pleasure!

Thank you and I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Mostly fluff, some mentions of suggestive themes and spicy texts, but other than that it’s rather mild. Also, it’s pretty lightly edited. No gendered words, but leans towards a female reader.

/)/) /)/) ( . .) (⸝⸝ᵕ ᵕ) ~ ♪ (ა📱ა૮( )ა

Baki Hanma 📱

Lock Screen- A cute picture of the two of you from one of your first official dates. It was at an amusement park and some of the park employees were greeting oncoming guests dressed up as mascots, milling around the front of the park posing with and taking pictures with the newcomers. At the time you were rather embarrassed, the characters mostly flocked to the children that were entering the park, but since there were no children in your party they all buzzed around you instead. The huge, florescent pink cat-suited individual that danced around you commented on what a lovely couple you were, urging you and Baki to form a heart with your hands as they posed energetically behind you, their cohort (an equally bright blue dog) snapping a quick picture of the three of you with Baki’s phone. Though the photo was rushed and a little blurry, you are all smiles in the shot, both yourself and Baki looking both bashful and genuinely happy. The love radiating through that image alone warms his heart each time he glances at it, and it warmed yours in turn to know he cherished the memory as much as you did, going so far as to set it as his lock screen so that he could be reminded of it each time he checked his phone.

Home Screen- A candid picture of yourself on another one of your dates, taken quite some time after the amusement park picture was taken. The newbie awkwardness in your relationship had greatly diminished at this point, a peaceful sort of comfort and familiarity now reigning supreme in your romance. Years of being with another person does that to you, your new-relationship jitters subsiding as you get to know all about your partner, their best and worst sides. With time all their obnoxious or gross habits have long since been laid bare, but you are still somehow simultaneously finding new things about them that make you love them even more. Your love changes with time, morphing from something fresh and new to something much deeper, more concrete, more real. The picture he displayed on his homes screen was taken on a random day at a random time when nothing in particular was going on. You were simply walking in front of him and stopped for a brief moment to look at something across the way. He wasn’t even sure what it was that caught your attention, didn’t even really care, he was just fully fixated on you and how breathtakingly gorgeous you looked in that average, everyday moment. Before he even realized he was doing it he snapped a pic, and he was very grateful that he did. Each time he stares at his screen his heart races, beating so rapidly it’s as if he was back in the puppy-love stage of the relationship, and he falls for you all over again.

/)/) /)/) ( . .) (⸝⸝ᵕ ᵕ) ~ ♪ (ა📱ა૮( )ა

Retsu Kaioh 📱

Lock Screen- Like Baki, Retsu is rather fond of candid pictures. Something about capturing you spur of the moment in your day to day life really appeals to him, his heart fluttering when he catches glimpses of reminders that you have become a part of his daily routine. He gets to witness you in all states of being, and knowing you are comfortable enough around him to be your most natural, unguarded self, warms his heart like nothing else. You yourself didn’t find anything super special about the picture he took of you at the home and garden store. If anything you felt the image of yourself holding a succulent in a death grip, eying it a little too intensely as you debated whether you wanted to purchase it or not, was embarrassing. Retsu begs to differ, and each time you gripe about it he goes on a mini spiel, explaining to you in a little too much detail just how endearing he finds your ‘suffering an internal crisis as you try to find the perfect plant for the kitchen windowsill’ expression. This never ceases to instantly make your cheeks blush bright red at the impassioned nature of his tone. Still, the fact that he can find such ardent moments of love in the mundane is one of the reasons why you fell for him to begin with. You hope to share many more little adventures with him that yield even more random pictures you can look back on and smile, whether you personally find them flattering or not. As long as they bring Retsu joy, you will find joy in them as well.

Home Screen- If the picture of you at the store made you a little self-conscious, then his home screen was enough to make you want to bury your face and cry. At some point he had snapped an image of you asleep on the couch. This wasn’t some cutesy ‘I just fell asleep and look like a peaceful little angel’ snooze either- you were DEEP in the troughs of a nap, completely dead to the world. Mouth wide open with a rivulet of drool seeping out the side, old shirt rumpled up with your hand rested on your exposed belly, hair an absolute rats nest as it messily framed your head, it was the kind of picture that could easily be used as blackmail. Yet Retsu cherished it, beaming down at it like a parent looking at their child’s straight A report card. While you cringed each time you peered at his phone screen, questioning why in the world he would pick such an unflattering picture of you to stare at each day, it crossed your mind that maybe he set it as a joke, or to poke fun at you. That thought was quickly laid to rest however, as the sheer look of pure love that reflected in his eyes each time he stared at it made you keenly aware that his choice of setting it as his wallpaper was no prank. Somehow he found true beauty in that gross picture of you, and that in and of itself melted your heart a little bit. So it didn’t really matter how much you loathed the picture, after seeing Retsu’s puppy dog eyes as he stared at your passed out visage you decided it was fine to let him keep it as his background in lieu of something a little more complementary (as long as no one else was allowed to use his phone and potentially see it, that is).

/)/) /)/) ( . .) (⸝⸝ᵕ ᵕ) ~ ♪ (ა📱ა૮( )ა

Katsumi Orochi 📱

Lock Screen- He is definitely the type of dude to have some kind of dweeby, professionally done picture of the two of you as his lock screen. You remember thinking he was kidding when he asked you if you were interested in booking a couples photo session, but when you noted the serious look in his eye as he pressed the issue, you knew the offer wasn’t a joke. Though hesitant, you found yourself unable to turn him down, and a few days later you found yourself in a photo studio posing awkwardly while a photographer happily snapped away, complimenting what a cute couple you were as he directed you to pose this way or that. Despite the previous uncertainty and slightly uncomfortable atmosphere, quite a few gems were born from the shoot, and you ended up being very happy to have some beautifully charming shots to look back on. A certain picture stood out from the rest, one grabbed just as some silly, random comment from Katsumi made you both burst into a fit of laughter. With his arms wrapped around you from behind and huge genuine smiles engulfing both your faces, you leaned into one other, reliant on each other’s support lest you collapse to the ground into a pile of giggles. It was such a fun, happy capture that it very easily became your all-time favorite picture of the two of you.  So you couldn’t help but smile when you happened to spy his lock screen, finding it ironic that he chose your favorite picture to grace his background, especially when your own lock screen displayed the exact same pic. <3

Home Screen- A spicier selfie you sent him in the past. While there is no nudity in the shot itself, you can pinpoint the precise moment you took the shot, remembering it as one that definitely led to some much more revealing pictures (with provocative text to match). You also remembered being quite proud of the selfie- the seductive smolder in your eye, the way your shirt had slunk down your shoulder, the coy little smile on your face as you bit into your bottom lip, all of it came together for a truly sexy presentation. You weren’t one to often brag about your looks, but that day you worked hard to look hot and it had certainly paid off.  That day had also blessed you with good lighting and one of the best hair/makeup days of your life, so to see the image grace his phone screen made butterflies burst in your stomach, a feeling of elation washing over you with the realization that the effort you put in was not in vain. Though it made you blush a little to see that he had made one of the private pictures you sent him his phone background, there was no denying that it pleased you greatly. He was the type of man that earnestly believed that you were the most gorgeous thing on the planet no matter how much or little you were dolled up, but realizing that he took extra notice of when you put in effort to look your best for him, liking it to the point of making it a picture he could stare at all day (while all manner of fantasies were surely buzzing through his brain)…. Well, it certainly set your heart a flutter, for more reason than one.

/)/) /)/) ( . .) (⸝⸝ᵕ ᵕ) ~ ♪ (ა📱ა૮( )ა

[legionofshaza]

❀The gentleman of❀

🌺Spring 🌺

Lucien week day 1 @lucienweekofficial

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The night was soft and cool as Elain Archeron stood on the balcony of the manor, the silvery moonlight casting a gentle glow across the garden below. The Night Court’s vast expanse of stars glittered overhead, but it was the breeze that carried a hint of spring—a scent that reminded her of home. Of the past. Of peace.

She leaned against the stone railing, taking in the scent of the blooming roses. Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice the quiet footsteps behind her until a deep, familiar voice spoke, his tone as gentle as the breeze.

“Elain.”

She turned slowly, already knowing who it was. Lucien stood in the doorway, his russet hair catching the moonlight, his golden eye gleaming softly. Yet it was the expression on his face—careful, tender—that caught her breath. There was something about Lucien Vanserra that always radiated warmth. It wasn’t just the color of his hair, or the subtle scent of pine and cedar that clung to him; it was his very presence, as though he belonged in the wild places of the world where things grew and bloomed without constraint.

“Elain,” he said again, his voice a gentle murmur now, “you shouldn’t be out here alone. It’s getting colder.”

His concern made her heart ache, but she shook her head softly, offering a small smile. “I needed some air.”

Lucien nodded, stepping closer but keeping a respectful distance. He had always been this way with her—careful, considerate, a gentleman in every sense of the word. He never pressed her, never demanded more than she was ready to give. His gentleness had surprised her at first. She had expected fire, given his ties to the Autumn Court. But instead, she found him to be more like Spring: patient, warm, and full of quiet hope.

“If you don’t mind,” he said, after a moment’s pause, “I’ll keep you company.”

She looked at him then, truly looked at him. There was something comforting about Lucien. Perhaps it was the way he always seemed to know when to speak and when to simply be there. He never forced himself into her space, but rather, he let her choose the terms of their interactions.

“Of course,” she replied softly, moving aside so he could stand next to her.

Lucien joined her at the railing, his hands resting loosely on the stone, his posture relaxed yet alert. They stood in silence for a moment, watching the garden sway in the night breeze, the quiet sounds of the world around them filling the space between them.

After a few minutes, Lucien spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. “You remind me of the spring.”

Elain blinked, turning her head to him. “Spring?”

He smiled faintly, his gaze still fixed on the garden below. “Yes. Not just the flowers you tend to, though they certainly remind me of you. But you... you are like spring itself. Gentle, but strong. Full of life and promise.”

Her heart stuttered at his words, at the sincerity in his tone. Lucien was always like this—thoughtful, kind. He saw her, truly saw her, in a way that sometimes left her feeling exposed, but not in an uncomfortable way. It was as if he understood her without her having to say a word.

“I’m not sure I’m as strong as you think,” she said softly, turning her gaze back to the garden.

Lucien shifted slightly beside her, his warmth closer now, though he still didn’t touch her. “Strength doesn’t always have to be loud or forceful, Elain. Sometimes, the strongest things are the quietest. Like the way you care for others. Or the way you’ve chosen to heal, in your own time.”

She swallowed, his words sinking deep into her chest. It wasn’t often that someone spoke to her like this—without expectation, without judgment. Just... understanding. She had grown used to feeling like the fragile one, the one who needed protection. But Lucien didn’t see her that way. He never had.

“I... I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he replied, his golden eye meeting hers now, filled with warmth and something else she couldn’t quite name. “I just wanted you to know how I see you. How I’ve always seen you.”

Her breath caught, and she felt a sudden rush of emotion. This male—her mate—had been so patient with her, so kind. He had never once pushed her to acknowledge the bond between them, never demanded more than she was ready to give. He had waited, quietly, gently, letting her come to terms with it all at her own pace.

Lucien shifted slightly, moving to stand directly in front of her. His movements were slow, deliberate, as though he was giving her every opportunity to pull away if she wished. But she didn’t. Instead, she found herself looking up into his mismatched eyes, her heart racing.

“Lucien...” she began, unsure of what she wanted to say.

But he shook his head, a soft smile curving his lips. “You don’t have to explain anything to me, Elain. I’m not here to rush you, or to ask for more than you’re ready to give.”

He lifted his hand, hesitating for a moment before gently tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. His touch was feather-light, barely there, but it sent a shiver down her spine.

“I’m just here,” he said softly. “For as long as you want me to be.”

The weight of his words settled over her, and for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel overwhelmed by the bond between them. She didn’t feel pressured or frightened. She simply felt... safe.

“I do want you here,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

Lucien’s expression softened, and he gave her the smallest nod, as though acknowledging the weight of her words without making it feel too heavy. Then, slowly, as if giving her every opportunity to stop him, he leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead.

It wasn’t demanding or passionate. It was gentle, reverent—just like him.

When he pulled back, his hand still lightly brushing her hair, Elain felt her heart swell with something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Hope.

She smiled up at him, her voice steady now. “Thank you, Lucien.”

His smile was small, but it was real, and it lit up his whole face. “Anytime, Elain. Anytime.”

And with that, they turned back to the garden, standing side by side, the warmth of his presence a quiet comfort in the cool night air.

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🌸End 🌸

[nicoline1998enilocin]

"I can hear you!"

PAIRING | Tony Stark x Avenger!Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT | 2.8K

SUMMARY | After a rather intimate moment in the kitchen with Tony, you go to your room to take the edge off for yourself. When he happens to walk by and hear you moan out his name, he can't help himself as he walks in, wanting to give you the pleasure you're so desperately craving from him.

RATING | Explicit (E)

WARNINGS/TAGS | Age gap, mutual pining, friends to lovers, use of nickname (Cupcake)

SMUT | Voyeurism, masturbation, use of vibrator, nipple play, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), cream pie, aftercare

A/N | This one-shot is based on a request I received from a lovely Anon! From the moment I saw this request, the gears in my head started turning, and they haven't stopped ever since. This is proofread by the lovely @ccbsrmsf1; I could not have written this without your help and support 🩷

EVENTS Masterlist | @mcukinkbingo | Position: missionary

Banners: Yours truly | Divider: @firefly-graphics | GIF: @ccbsrmsf1

Main Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist

You're practically floating around the communal kitchen while baking, one of your favorite pastime activities. You tend to make the sweetest treats imaginable when you're not away for missions, hanging out with friends, or buried with your nose in a book. One person, in particular, has greatly liked you and your expert baking skills.

Since you joined the Avengers almost five years ago, Tony hasn't been able to keep his gaze off you because you radiate natural happiness and calm. On the battlefield, you always manage to keep a level head no matter how difficult it gets, which he admires. During those years, he has also developed a massive crush on you, which he has managed to keep under wraps all this time. Little does he know, you feel the same about him, too.

"Are you excited to see Tony again?" Natasha asks as you put the cookies in the oven. You made a batch specifically for him after he texted you about how rough his last mission was. The butterflies in your stomach go wild at the mention of his name, though you pretend nothing's going on, just like you have done all this time.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Nat," you said while rolling your eyes, though you know exactly what she's talking about. You've been crushing on Tony for a long time, too, and it seemed to be visible to everyone except you and him.

"Sure you do," she says before standing up straight, letting you know they're back before going to her room to give the two of you some privacy. Tony walks into the kitchen with a look of defeat on his face, and your heart sinks at the sight—you've rarely seen him like this before.

"Hi, Cupcake," he says to you as he sits down on a chair by the kitchen island, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He's really struggling, and you know he needs your company right now.

"Shall I make you a cup of tea? I have cookies in the oven that are almost done as well," you tell him, and he hums appreciatively. Before he met you, he would immediately grab something stronger, but something inside him flipped the moment you took care of him after a challenging mission. So now, he prefers to drink some tea and enjoy your baked goods while in your company because simply being around you lifts his mood.

The tea is quickly made, and you walk around the kitchen island to sit next to him as you put his mug in front of him.

"Thank you," he whispers before he places his head on your shoulder and lets out a deep sigh. His eyes are closed as his hands wrap around the warm ceramic of the mug, and he can immediately feel himself calming down. Your familiar scent and warmth radiate comfort to Tony, and the two of you stay like that until the cookies are done, and you have to get them out of the oven.

"Would you like to try one? I made your favorites after hearing about the mission," you said shyly, and Tony immediately perked up. Knowing you made these specifically for him made his heart beat faster, and the sparkle in his dark brown eyes returned.

"How could I say no to your delicious baked goods, Cupcake? They're my favorites after a long mission," he says, and you nod. You put two of them on a plate before sitting down again and letting them cool while you sip your tea.

"Are you ready to talk about it?" you ask him, but he shakes his head. Tony usually talked about his missions with you as a 'debriefing,' but he wants to live in your comfortable bubble right now.

"Okay," you say softly before sipping your tea again, and Tony does the same with his. He groans softly as the warm liquid slowly makes its way down his throat, soothing him from the inside out. When he puts his mug down, you break off a bit of a cookie before holding it to his lips. It's a seemingly innocent gesture, but how he looks at you with a fire in his eyes lets you know it is anything but.

Your eyes flick from his plump, pink lips to his dark, chocolate-brown eyes, and you must suppress the whimper that wants to move out of your chest. The way your heart beats faster as you lift the baked good to his mouth doesn't go unnoticed by you, but from the look on his face, you know he's feeling the same, too.

His lips parted slightly before he took a bite of the sweet cookie, the taste exploding on his tongue in the best way possible. A soft moan escapes his lips, and you clench your thighs together at the sound, wishing it was you who was coaxing them out instead of the sweet cookie in his mouth. He keeps his eyes closed as he enjoys the taste, though before he can open them, you excuse yourself, quickly making your way to your room after what just happened.

Tony is confused as he wonders what he did wrong, but he ultimately decides to leave it be for now, as he doesn't have the emotional bandwidth to go after you. He makes a mental note to check up on you later, though he won't know what hit him once he does.

A few hours have passed since you shared that intimate moment with Tony, and you're still horrified by how you left him there. At first, you paced through your room while debating whether or not to go back, and when you finally decided to do so, he was gone, and you were too late.

Now you were thinking about the whole ordeal again, and more specifically about the soft moan, Tony let out when he tasted your cookie and the arousal he made you feel by doing that. A flame roars up in your belly at the thought alone, so you decide to help yourself using your trusty vibrator like you have done countless times before.

The lilac-colored silicone toy lands on your bed with a soft thud before you remove your clothes, leaving you in only your underwear. You quickly slip under the covers before getting comfortable, your vibrator in your hand as you tease yourself a little bit first.

The toy comes to life with a soft hum, and you place it over your panties for some light teasing over your clit. Your bottom lip is pulled between your teeth as you move it up and down, your hips rutting up. The friction of the vibrations combined with your arousal has you on the edge of release sooner than you thought, so you stop yourself before it's too late.

This time you guide the toy under your panties, sliding it through your soaked folds before turning it on, making you gasp at the feeling of it against your sensitive clit. You moan softly as you rub it over the sensitive bundle of nerves, all the while memories of Tony go through your mind.

When you slide the toy into your pussy, you moan Tony's name loudly as you turn up the setting on it, giving you more and more pleasure while you take your time with it. Your free hand is rolling and tugging on your nipples under your bra, only adding to your pleasure.

The moment you gasped out Tony's name, he happened to walk over to your room to talk about what happened, but he came to a halt right the moment you moaned his name. At first, he wasn't sure he heard you correctly, but the moans became louder, and he could clearly hear you say his name.

Tony can feel himself chub up in his pants, and he's thankful he decided not to put on any underwear after his shower; it would only have been in the way of him and his pleasure. He listens for just a moment longer until he's almost at the point of cumming untouched, which is when he knocks on the door, and you shriek at the sudden sound.

"Uh—oh, one moment!" you say as you quickly put your vibrator into your drawer, not caring about the clean-up for now. All you know is that whoever is on the other side of the door probably heard you, and you're scared to find out who it is.

"Come in," you say after gathering yourself back together for a moment, but all that goes out the window when you see it's Tony, who is on the other side of the door. All color drains from your face at the realization. He definitely heard you moan his name, and now he knows you've been fantasizing about him.

"T-Tony, hi..." you say as your voice trails off, and your gaze lowers. Your line of sight is immediately drawn to the tent he's pitching in his pants. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth at the sight before quickly looking away as you know you shouldn't be staring at him and his cock - which has invaded your mind for way too long now.

"I came here to talk, but I think I might want to do something else instead. Hearing you moan my name like that got me so fucking hard for you, Cupcake, and I think I know the best way to relieve myself of the tension," he says confidently as he walks over to you, and all you can do is nod.

"Let me show you how a real cock can make you cum, and I will ensure you it'll be much better than the shitty excuse of a toy you just fucked yourself on," he continues, stripping himself of every last bit of clothing while walking over to you. He kneels on the bed before crawling over to you, caging you in between his arms before lowering himself until he's only a few inches away from your face.

"If you want me to stop, tell me now, Cupcake. I won't be able to once I've tasted you," he whispers, but you shake your head. You don't want him to stop; you want him to make you fall apart on his cock like he promised, as well as so much more.

"I need you, Tony, please," you tell him, and within less than a second, his lips are on yours in a bruising kiss, all the air punched out of your lungs at the movement. Your hand laces into his hair while your other one glides down his back until you've reached his ass, squeezing it in a bold moment. The moan leaving Tony's lips has you ruining your panties even further as a gush of arousal soaks them.

"I've been waiting so long for this, Cupcake; I need you so bad," Tony says, and you nod as he strips the comforter away from you, leaving you in nothing but your bra and panties before him. The fabric of both is pulled off your body in an instant, leaving you bare to him.

"Look at you, Cupcake, you're an absolute sight for sore eyes," Tony tells you as his fingers glide over your body, softly tugging on your nipples before sliding through your folds and gathering the slick there. He puts his fingers in his mouth as he hums appreciatively, and your eyes flutter shut at the sight before you.

"Look at me, Cupcake; I need you to look at me when I slide into you for the first time. I need to commit every second of it to memory because I know it'll be a sight I'll never be able to forget,'' he whispers, and you do as he asks. His hand wraps around his long, veiny monster he calls a cock before pumping a few times and lining up with your entrance.

"Take a deep breath for me, Cupcake," he tells you, and when you do, he slides in with a single thrust, and your back arches into him as you moan his name loudly. The smirk on his face is unmistakable as he allows you to adjust to his size, but he doesn't get a chance to say anything before you do.

"Fuck, I love you so much," you tell him as your fingers squeeze his biceps to ground yourself as you adjust to his size. You've never been with anyone of Tony's size, and even though it's a pleasurable burn, you want him to stay still for a bit longer.

Tony looks down at you with wide eyes after your love confession.

"I love you too, Cupcake. God, I've been dying to tell you that," he says with a breathy laugh, and you pull him down for a kiss as he starts to set a slow pace, his hips rolling against your pelvis in a leisurely rhythm. He cannot even begin to tell you how long he's been waiting to tell you that, but now that he has, he can't stop telling you.

"You're so beautiful, loving, and funny, and I love you so fucking much," he says, and you nod as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer.

"I love you too, Tony, so much," and with those words, he sets a fast pace that has you screaming his name within no time at all. The sound of skin slapping against skin and your combined moans make for a beautiful chorus that Tony can't get enough of as he's nearing the end of his ropes.

"Fuck, 'm close! Where do you want me, Cupcake?" he asks you, but you already know the answer.

"Inside me, Tony, I'm on birth control," you say, and he lets out a sigh of relief at your words. Even though you know it isn't the safest option, you don't want to let him go. You want him to cum inside you and mark you as his because you are exactly that. His.

"Yeah? Does my girl want my cum in her sweet, tight pussy?" he asks, and you nod as you slide your hand between your bodies, your fingers playing with your clit until you're trembling and clenching around Tony's cock, milking him for all he's worth.

His pace falters quickly after your orgasm, and with a loud grunt, he shoots every last drop of his cum in your pussy until he's spent. As he falls to the side, he pulls you with him to have you close as you're both enjoying the post-sex haze.

When you both come down from your high, you take a shower together where there are more kisses shared, as well as some less innocent touches, but you're both sensitive from the sex, so you both keep it to a minimum. When you're both finished and dry, you head to the kitchen to prepare some more tea.

"I'm a lucky man with you, Cupcake," Tony tells you as he stands behind you. You're wearing nothing more than his shirt and a pair of panties, while Tony is only clad in his jeans. He places some soft kisses on your neck, his facial hair making you giggle as he does.

You don't notice the rest of the Avengers slowly coming into the kitchen, too, and they're all sharing looks as they see the two of you all cozy by the counter.

"Finally! It took you guys long enough!" Natasha says, and that's when you both look at all the Avengers. Tony keeps you close to him as a blush spreads over both of your faces, making her laugh loudly. You give Tony a look of 'What is she talking about?' but he shrugs before placing a kiss against your temple.

"Guys, come on. The sexual tension has been dripping off you both ever since you first met; it's a miracle it took this long. However, as long as you let me be the maid of honor during your wedding, I will support your relationship with all my heart," Natasha tells you, making everyone laugh.

"Deal!" you say as you melt into Tony's hold. After that, congratulations were exchanged, and everyone quickly accepted your relationship. From that moment on, you and Tony were inseparable, and you are nothing if not a woman of your word, so the moment Tony proposed to you, you asked Nat to be your maid of honor, which she happily accepted.

Life with Tony is nothing short of amazing, and you're secretly thanking yourself every day for moaning his name that day because it brought you the best thing that has ever happened to you. It shows that sometimes the best things can bloom from the most embarrassing moments, but you wouldn't change this one for the world.

[thegettingbyp2]

May I have Jasper Hale + Dominant Reader? Any gender. Because having a powerful man voluntarily get on his knees for you, to hand over power to YOU, to submit and willingly LET you break him? And to fall into subspace, knowing that he can TRUST you? With Jasper's past history? Wow. Bonus Points if Jasper gets all flustered feeling his dom's gentle&dark desire for him just LOOMING beforehand, because being an empath must make one's love life...interesting. 😏

Let Yourself Fall

A/N: I was so nervous when I first started writing this and then as soon as I got through the first paragraph it all just kind of came out! I really hope you enjoy it and it was really fun to write for a dominant!reader! I'm still more comfortable with sub!reader simply because I can write some things from experience with it but I did really enjoy writing this!

Buy me a coffee :)

It didn’t take Jasper long to figure out what the unusual emotion was that he was sensing from you. He was used to feeling love radiating from you towards him, occasionally lust mixing in. But this was something else entirely; he wouldn’t describe it as dark, but it wasn’t like your usual presence either. The two of you were fooling around in your bed, Jasper pinning your body to your bed as he kissed you breathless. It was in this moment he felt that new emotion seem to surge from you, almost knocking Jasper over with how strong he felt it.

‘Are you okay, darlin’?’ he asked, cupping your cheek with his palm, smirking slightly when he felt the heat from your skin burn into his cooler skin.

‘I just need you, Jas,’ you moaned and that sound in itself had Jasper leaning backwards a bit more, cocking his head to the side. He was used to pulling soft moans and small whimpers and whines from your lips; he always prided himself in how easily he could pull those sounds from you, how submissive you always were for him. However, this time, your moan was louder and didn’t sound anything like the submissive little sounds he was so used to hearing from you and he felt something akin to frustration roll over you.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, moving completely off of your body and refusing to do anything else until he was 100% sure that you were okay.

‘Nothing’s wrong,’ you insisted, slowly rising up onto your knees opposite him and placing your hands on both of his shoulders, pushing slightly. You knew that Jasper was letting you push him down onto the mattress, his unnatural strength preventing him from actually falling. ‘I just want to try something else tonight,’ you said, straddling his hips once he was flat on the bed. The moment Jasper felt your covered pussy lower onto his clothed cock, his hands shot out to rest on your hips.

‘And what would that be?’

‘Well, I’m always the submissive one in this situation,’ you began.

‘And you’re so good at it, darlin’,’ he cut in, sitting up to pepper kisses along your jaw line, causing your eyes to flutter shut before you snapped yourself out of it, knowing that if you gave into him now, you wouldn’t get what you really wanted tonight.

‘Well, what if I don’t want to be your darlin’ tonight, what if I want you to call me something else?’

‘Like what?’

‘Ma’am.’

You watched as realisation settled in his eyes when he figured out what you meant and you saw unease cloud his eyes almost immediately.

‘We don’t have to if you don’t want to though!’ You were quick to reassure him, bringing both of your hands up to rest on his cheeks, making him look at you.

‘It’s just, I haven’t been like that with anyone since Maria,’ he said quietly as he pulled you an inch closer to him unconsciously. ‘And we both know that story doesn’t end well.’

‘And, like I said, we don’t have to do it if it makes you uncomfortable. But you know that I’m nothing like her, I care about you Jasper, you’d be safe with me,’ you spoke gently, running your fingers over his face soothingly as he looked at you, his decision warring in his eyes.

‘I trust you,’ he finally said, bring his lips to yours for a gentle kiss. ‘I’m all yours…ma’am,’ he drawled against your lips, his Southern accent thickening with his desire. You couldn’t help the bubble of excitement that filled your body at his answer and you deepened the kiss.

‘I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. And if, at any point, you want to stop, just tell me, okay?’

Jasper nodded and let you push him back down against the mattress as you slid down his body, dragging your hands down the expanse of his bare chest before settling on your knees between his legs, your hands coming to a stop at the top of his jeans. You smirked to yourself when you felt his hips buck lightly against your touch and you made quick work of unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them along with his boxers down his legs, leaving him completely naked and you still in your summer dress.

‘You’re so pretty, Jas,’ you murmured as you pressed a gentle kiss to his hip bone, a sharp intake of air heard from above you and you saw as his cock twitched at the sensation. ‘What do you want?’

‘You,’ he gasped, seeming to have already dropped fully into his submissive role and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride that he trusted you that much.

You kissed his other hip bone, this time, lightly grazing your teeth against his skin. ‘Use your words, baby,’ you spoke softly as you lifted your eyes to look at him, leaving your lips to flutter around his hips and V-Line.

‘Can I have your mouth, ma’am?’ he asked quietly, clearly not used to the reversed dynamic between the two of you.

‘Good boy,’ you praised, grinning when you heard his little moan at your praise. You kissed your way down his V-Line and down the length of his cock before you took the head between your lips and suckled gently. Jasper threw his head back at the sensation of your hot, wet mouth engulfing him and he tried as hard as he could to not buck up into your mouth; wanting to be good for you. You slowly began to lower your mouth down him, humming in pleasure around him which only served to turn him on even more.

You felt the head of his cock brush against the back of your throat and you were quick to pull your head back up, a pained cry escaping Jasper’s lips.

‘Please,’ he whined at the sudden loss of your mouth and he started to squirm on the bed, trying to find anything that would give him even the slightest bit of relief.

‘Don’t be greedy, baby boy,’ you chastised, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock. ‘If you get impatient, you aren’t going to get anything are you? You were so good for me just a second ago, can you still be my good boy, Jasper?’

The sound of his name on your lips in such a dominant tone sent Jasper almost into a trance and he felt himself relax a bit more into the bed, the only thing he was focused on was making sure he was good for you.

‘Yes ma’am, I’m your good boy,’ he confirmed, nodding his head quickly. You hummed happily and took the head of his cock back between your lips, suckling gently as your hand began to work up and down his cock. His moans began to increase in volume, something that had you practically grinning like a Cheshire cat around his cock and you felt him twitch in your mouth and against your palm. The louder his moans grew, the closer he was to his climax and you waited until he was just teetering over the edge before you pulled away completely, you heart clenching with adoration as you saw that he already looked a wreck because of you. His eyes were damp as his orgasm died back down without being released in the first place.

You quickly pulled your panties down your legs before straddling him once again, keeping your dress on. The feeling of your bare pussy resting against his hard cock had his head snapping up to look at you and you knew that his grip on your waist was going to leave a series of bruises. ‘You’re so good for me,’ you hummed, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips and Jasper could only nod in response. ‘Do you feel how wet I am for you, Jasper?’ you asked coyly, slowly rubbing your pussy against him, causing a low growl to rumble in his chest. ‘You did this to me so I think that it’s only right that you fix it.’

Lifting your hips, you lined his cock up with your entrance and you slowly sank down on him, the two of you moaning in harmony at the feeling of him filling you up. Jasper’s hands made their way to you dress, and made an attempt to rip it off your body.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ you asked, stilling your movements on top of him.

‘Taking this off for you, ma’am,’ he whined, absolutely hating the fact that you were still covered up.

‘But I don’t need you to take it off, baby boy. I have everything just the way I want it,’ you confirmed much to Jasper’s dismay. You were loving the power that you were currently holding over him but something about the pained whine that escaped his lips made you take pity on him slightly. ‘You can pull the top of the dress down,’ you said and as soon as the words left your mouth, Jasper’s hands had ripped the top of your dress down so it was just sitting as a skirt around your hips.

‘Thank you, ma’am,’ he quickly spoke before latching his lips onto one of your nipples, his thumb and index finger coming up to pinch and toy with your other nipple. The sudden shock of cold on your nipples had them hardening to the point of almost pain in no time and you tipped your head back in pleasure as you began to ride him harder, your hips slapping against each other obscenely.

‘Close, ma’am,’ Jasper mumbled around your nipple, the vibration running through your body and putting you on the edge as well. Your fingers fisted into his blonde hair and you yanked his head up so you could look into his eyes. The sight of his hooded, dazed eyes had you clenching around his cock as your orgasm ran through your body and you could see in his face that it was taking Jasper all the strength he had not to follow straight behind.

‘Cum for me, Jasper, you’ve been such a good boy for me,’ you cooed softly at him and with a whimper, he clutched your body even tighter as you felt his cum fill you up and pool on both of your hips. You remained on top of him while you both came down, Jasper’s head falling to rest on your chest and your fingers lightly scratching at his scalp. ‘You okay?’ you spoke gently, knowing from the look in his eyes that he’d began to fall into subspace.

Jasper nodded tiredly and gave you a lazy smile that had your heart jumping in your chest. ‘I love you,’ he spoke so quietly that at first, you weren’t sure that you heard him.

‘I love you too, so much,’ you replied. You made to let him slip out of you so you could go and grab a cloth to clean the two of you up but as soon as he felt you move, Jasper held onto you even tighter, whining against your skin.

‘Don’t leave me,’ he mumbled sadly and your heart clenched at his words as a wave of white hot anger ran through your body when you thought of the way Maria must have treated him when he was with her.

‘I’m not leaving you baby,’ you kept your voice calm and quiet, hoping that it would soothe him. It was in this moment that you wished you had the power to influence his mood as he so often did for you. ‘I just need to go get something to clean us both up and then I can come right back and I won’t leave your side at all. But I need you to tell me you’re okay before I go, Jasper. You let yourself fall into subspace for me and I’m so proud of you for that but before I do anything else, I need to make sure you’re okay?’

Jasper looked into your eyes and instantly felt himself calm down when he felt the rush of love that came from you; something that he had never felt from Maria, with her it always felt like she threw him away after, but not with you. He nodded gently and gave you a soft smile. ‘I’m okay,’ he whispered before helping you off of his lap so you could carry on taking care of him.

[pennyellee]

CHAPTER VII - mágoa

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

chapter warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, yandere, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behaviour, angst, mentions of God, violence, bloodshed, history class on lacrimosa yall, nudity, blood, manhandling, slapping, mentions of suicide, gun use, genitalia cupping, gaslighting, anxiety, strong language, threats, misogyny, old social norms, lies-lies-lies, bone crunching, physical violence, suicide attempt

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 12K

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

m.list CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III CHAPTER IV CHAPTER V CHAPTER VI CHAPTER VIII

mágoa (n.) a heartbreaking feeling that leaves long-lasting traces, visible in gestures and facial expressions

A pinch of sadness went through Y/N when she heard his words. She gave herself to him. Without any fight, simply accepting that this had to be done for her to build a strong base where he would trust her enough to let his guard down. After this day, her mind was barely holding up, therefore she went down the hill willingly rather than by force.

Her eyes were about to close slowly when he was taking the white sheet on which they consummated their marriage. Although her eyes were narrowed, she saw a significant portion of it being painted red with her blood. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she laid there, boring her eyes to the ceiling of the room rather than perceiving the reality.

The flames of the fire danced and flickered, casting a warm glow upon their entwined bodies. They laid there — he basked in the afterglow, and she in her own sorrow. He was caressing her hair while she laid on top of his naked torso where he moved her to rest just a moment ago, trying to not think about what had happened. She cared no more. Her mind and body were exhausted. Yoongi put a soft kiss on her forehead before he broke the serene silence.

“A bath, shall we?” Her body felt the mix of exhaustion and vulnerability as she went to get up, a soreness radiated in between her legs. Y/N could not wait till she would spread her limbs in the hot spring water. Yoongi gently swept her to his arms and carried her out of the room.

The corridor was softly lit by lanterns, their warm glow casting a gentle illumination. Paper windows filtered the moonlight, creating patterns of soft shadows on the wooden floor as he was taking her to the spring. He hoped it would ease her pain and relax her muscles so he could be a little more selfish and take her again and again until dusk.

Her naked nipples stiffened and reacted to the sudden change of temperature. Yoongi was yet again trying to control his urges to press her against the wall and take her from behind. But he knew better. She was sore, vulnerable, and he knew the time was ticking and soon a bigger wave of realisation would hit her.

The steam from the heated water mingled with the crisp air, creating a comforting atmosphere that embraced them. She could feel the cold wind hitting her body before Yoongi stepped inside the natural bath surrounded by ancient rocks, swiftly setting their bodies into the hot water. Y/N breathed out from the sensation of the water balming her sore muscles. She took a moment to embrace the peacefulness of her surroundings, momentarily forgetting the true nature of her situation and to whom is her naked body pressed to.

Her eyes snapped open when the nerve hit her senses, breath hitching in her throat, tears still struggling to dry on her cheeks. An epiphany. She tried to pull herself away from him, covering her chest when he pushed her against him even tighter.

“None of that, my love,” he whispered into her ear, nabbing at it and pecking her head. “You are finally doing so well, baby,” he spoke, his lips still pressed to her hair.

The soothing warmth of the water against her skin and the unsettling reality of her vulnerability in Yoongi’s embrace — it overwhelmed her from every perspective. His words, though tender, served as a reminder of the power dynamics that governed their relationship. She felt a surge of frustration and sadness, a silent plea for autonomy in a world that seemed determined to deny it and her resilience was coming back to life again.

“Yoongi,-” she said urgently, her voice carrying over the soothing sounds of flowing water. “When is it going to happen?” Y/N inquired, lifting her head up, her eyes searching for answers.

“It is already happening.”

The night had unfolded in shadows and whispers, and as the moon’s soft glow seeped into the bath, reality grew more elusive.

The infamous Yakuza, believing themselves five steps ahead of the Min clan, found their fortunes turned by the cunning moves of the young Kkangpae. The cards he tossed when luring out the enemy’s leader were not in their favour. Cut the snake’s head and it will die; Yoongi wished to see them all perish.

The headquarters of the Japanese clan, once a fortress of power, now stood vulnerable in the absence of its leader. Yoongi’s calculated manoeuvres had left them exposed, ripe for his seizing. From Japan to the north of Korea, with Hong Kong looming as the next conquest, the throne beckoned to him now.

The Kkangpae had played a dangerous game, and the stakes had never been higher. He realised this when the enemy held his beloved, poised to snuff out her life with vengeance. That urgency drove him to expedite matters. Within an hour, united soldiers of the Min and Wang houses moved to three different locations, armed and prepared for the Yakuza’s onslaught.

Yoongi knew the moment they set foot on his territorial grounds their intentions were not congratulatory. But one of the decoy. On that note, another three units secured warehouses, guarding the ammunition and the snow, as they called it, to maintain prosperity.

Y/N had underestimated him and the measures he would take to ascend the ladder. No man had dared challenge the Yakuza and lived to tell the tale, let alone dismantle the cruel syndicate over the span of a single lifetime.

The last of them were already en route to join infiltrators in Fukuoka, where all of Yamamoto’s warehouses lay, along with Tokyo’s headquarters. The command was clear: at the stroke of midnight — fire.

“Is Mother with Bó Chéng and Xiaoli, safe?” Her voice trembled. Y/N is no fool; her gut warned of temporary alliances and impending bloodshed once the Yakuza descended the stairs. This time, between Wangs and Mins. Yoongi never confirmed such a cruel assumption, yet, she knew.

He nodded solemnly, understanding her concern. “They are safe, love. I made sure of it,” he reassured, his voice a comforting anchor amidst the chaos. Yoongi’s eyes held a mysterious depth as he spoke, and the weight of his words lingered in the air.

The Kkangpae had unleashed a force that even he hadn’t fully anticipated, and the consequences were now playing out in real time. His vision was clear — The Min clan, a rising phoenix from the ashes, disrupting the status quo, plunging the city into disarray.

For years, no Korean clan had dared confront Japan’s Yakuza, the threat of annihilation keeping them in check. Hence, Korea’s underworld always stood divided until the former Kkangpae Min initiated revolutionary acts against both southern and northern enemies.

As the First World War unfolded, Yoongi’s father saw an opportunity to cover the blood traces left behind by the clans on the battlefield. The alliances formed, the battles fought—all of it became obscured by the larger narrative of global conflict. The revolution against both parties became a rallying cry for those long oppressed by the Yakuza.

The clan of Min knew if they wanted to succeed in this power play, attacking the northern foes was first in order before they could stand a chance over Yakuza and their international allies.

The war with its sweeping chaos and diversion, became a canvas for the Mins to redraw the lines of power. The world may be at peace now, the syndicate clans were nowhere near the fine line. A Cold War between the fighting clans arose and took its place now that they could not horrendously murder each other without drawing the attention of the upper world.

Not today.

His father’s revolutionary act set the stage, and Yoongi intended to finish it. With satisfaction, he watched as the wheels of change turned, irreversible.

The war ended over two decades ago and yet Yoongi still expected the unexpected. Hong Kong sought alliance with Tokyo. A marriage would seal it. Lineage was sacred, heavily valued. The syndicate, with its watchful eyes and ears attuned to the pulse of the underworld, murmured in speculation. Rumour was spread of Wang Zemo’s eldest daughter to be betrothed to Yamamoto Itsuki, the Yakuza’s heir.

Yoongi had just celebrated his 18th birthday when the murmur began. The girl, barely a decade old, promised to the Yakuza. No official betrothal could happen as she was still too young to be wedded.

Years went by and when she reached the 18th year of her life, Yoongi anticipated another bloodthirsty war to begin now that the arrangement could take place. But nothing happened. Holding her portrait in his hand, looking at the black and white photograph with a fresh cut on his eye, imagining how cherry red her lips must be and how he is going to drown in her eyes once he sees them for real. He saw opportunity, a golden ticket in this dangerous game.

Therefore, before her twenty-first birthday, Yoongi was already ahead of Yakuza, sipping tea with Wang Xiaoqing, the Triad leader’s older sister. His intention was clear from the beginning — the young gal in the portrait, undyingly beautiful.

Instead of wielding guns and knives at the northern enemy in China he was resolute in overthrowing the Triad by this calculated move of taking her and creating a powerful alliance in order to end Yakuza’s reign. He could have had any woman from his clan, but no woman ever spiked his interest as much as Wang Y/N.

He settled his mind on the path God presented him. He played his pieces, aiming for the Triad’s allegiance. The men of the Wang Triad, fiercely loyal to their established traditions, would not willingly follow an outsider — with or without war. To secure his grip on the Triad’s allegiance, Yoongi needed more than a coup; he needed a legitimate claim to leadership.

He played his pieces, aiming for the Triad’s allegiance. The young Kkangpae began his cockiness by taking the young woman to keep at his premises right before Yakuza would announce the engagement and followed the union.

Yoongi, the architect of this narrative, understood the power of perception. A move that seemed personal had far-reaching implications in the complex web of alliances that governed the criminal underworld.

The elderly woman was the smartest human he ever met. As she also held a mutual disdain for the house of Yamamoto that ran deep, an animosity fuelled by years of oppression and subjugation. The Yakuza’s supremacy over other clans, their unabashed acquisition of shares, land, and women, irked her. It was a political dominance that had cast a shadow over both Seoul and Hong Kong’s criminal underworld for far too long.

A shrewd strategist that Wang Xiaoqing was, recognised the potential for a successful revolution in Yoongi’s carefully laid steps — the blockade of docks, the seamless integration into the Yakuza’s business affairs, the subtle theft of opportunities, and the meticulous infiltration into their other operations—it was a game of chess played with finesse. Lastly, his determination on not letting Wang’s oldest daughter marry into Yakuza and form an alliance that could be a threat to his own kin.

Taking her niece would be a move that went beyond the surface, resonating with the desire to break free from the chains that bound them to the Yakuza’s dominance. Nobody dared to take what Yakuza claimed as theirs. Until him.

In the dimly lit warehouse where he was solely because the Luen’s shipment of ammunition to Taiwan got rampaged by Yakuza soldiers. Their attack on the shipment had disrupted his plans, leading him to intervene personally.

The captured Yakuza soldier, now a pawn in this unexpected confrontation, was brought before Yoongi for interrogation. The improvised setup within the warehouse served as the backdrop for the intense questioning that aimed to unveil the motives behind the Yakuza’s brazen attack that Yoongi already knew. It was their way of sending a message, a warning to the clans to not climb the ladder too high.

However, that’s not what aches Yoongi’s heart whenever he remembers that night. It was her, clad in her signature red qipao, in a dishevelled state, most likely chilled to the bone, lip split open.

The date on which Yoongi would arrive to collect her was settled two weeks from that day, but there she was, standing in the warehouse, most likely looking for a shelter from the cold.

In the silent exchange, Yoongi saw a glimpse of vulnerability and strength, a combination that both intrigued and captivated him. She looked straight to his eyes for what felt like hours without flinching away. The spark he felt that ignited between them in that warehouse would become the member of an unspoken understanding—a realisation that love, in its rawest form, had found its way to his heart.

He recalls how his breath stammered when he saw her for the first time. No matter how long she’s been running, no matter how the chilly wind ruffled her hair — she looked magnificent. All the love letters scribbled down that he had never sent to her were hidden in the drawer of his desk. He might give them to her one day once she will be ready to reciprocate his love.

Yoongi was convinced that it was destiny that she came upon the warehouse, as if God was leading her to his arms, where she belongs. At least according to the young leader of the clan. Y/N’s arrival to his land was unexpected and it certainly changed the whole trajectory. And that was one of the pivotal moments when he decided to rethink his steps.

This unforeseen encounter planted the seeds of a different kind of connection, one that deviated from the cold calculations of alliances and power and dark intentions loomed over the young Kkangpae Min.

Yoongi used to see marriage as a means to an end, a pragmatic choice made in the pursuit of power and influence. The emotions that typically accompanied such unions were to be set aside in favour of the greater goal at hand.

But her presence started to overshadow the original intentions of the alliance. How she fought him, stood her ground — all just made him want her more. As he found himself captivated by her company, the cold calculations of the former plan began to waver and he was decided.

The Yakuza’s move was thought-through, he did not expect any less—a challenge issued with violence and bloodshed and in the midst of celebration, chaos erupted. Min with his bride long gone to safety. Masked assailants, clad in the insignia of the Yakuza, stormed the hotel and one would think this is the end. But this conflict was nowhere near the grand finale.

At the time of the awaited attack of Yakuza men, echoes of screams of agony and crackling fire were far too loud. A clear symbol of the arising power of the Min clan. The two generations of Yamamoto's men, father and son, now lay as nothing more than ashes.

The night, which should have been a tender moment of intimacy, became the stage for a chilling chess move. As Yoongi and Y/N shared the vulnerability of their union, the Min clan, under his orders, descended upon the Yakuza with a relentless fury.

The sound of gunfire and explosions echoed in the night, a symphony of retribution that played out against the backdrop far away from their marital chamber. While Yoongi claimed the innocence of his wife, he orchestrated the downfall of those who dared to challenge his dominion.

The puppeteer of this grim performance, ensured that their legacy was erased, their power dismantled, and their grip on the criminal underworld shattered. In just one night, the war that lasted years ended.

Infiltrating the Yakuza was a meticulous plan, and his true intentions were hidden even from those closest to him. As the Min clan annihilated the Yakuza in cold blood, the night drew to a close and only those who would bend the knee and pledge loyalty were spared.

The night had witnessed the birth of a new order and the song of the dead echoed whilst the former empire shattered into pieces.

Morning arrived with a soft glow, painting the room in shades of muted light where Yoongi’s fingers traced gentle patterns on her naked back.

“Breakfast is ready,” he whispered, pressing a lingering kiss on her forehead. She nodded, wordless.

The table boasted an array of dishes, their enticing aroma filling the air. Yet Y/N could not eat yesterday nor today, the food simply did not go down her system.

Yoongi’s gaze remained fixed on her from time to time, while he was reading today’s paper the maid delivered together with the breakfast. His eyes, like a silent observer, bore witness to the aftermath of a night. Y/N’s eyes were bloodshot, cheeks stained with dried tears, her neck bearing bruises. Exhaustion weighed heavily upon her, yet he held onto the hope that all would settle now.

Yoongi sighed and reached into the pocket of his black vest.

“I have not read it,” said he once they finished eating breakfast and sat down in the lounge room. Y/N’s eyes moved to meet him, anticipating his next step. She did not want to speak to him. She did not want to look at him nor she did not want him to look at her.

“I appreciate that,” said Y/N, avoiding his eyes. Yoongi sighed again, reluctant to relinquish leverage over her, yet compelled to address the matter at hand. Deep down, he hoped the contents of the letter would bring her solace, perhaps even warmth towards him. Now, he stood as a fool in the pouring rain.

He carefully handed the letter, urging her to open it.

“Thank you,” she whispered, tearing open the envelope and extracting the yellowed paper within.

She looked at Yoongi one more time, and when she saw him spreading out the newspapers, she was glad he gave her at least some degree of privacy. Her eyes fell upon the cursive symbols of her beloved aunt’s handwriting.

The memories flooded back as Y/N read the words on the aged paper, transporting her to a time when life was less complicated. Yet, she remembers clearly the moment when the complications started to appear. She read the words, screaming at her whilst detailing Wang Xiaoqing’s declining health, her world halted.

The air grew heavy with a mix of medicinal scents and the weight of impending loss. Her aunt, a pillar of strength, lay frail on the bed, and Y/N’s heart ached at the sight.

As she recalls her last moments with her while reading the neatness of her handwriting Y/N finally sees the truth. Her breath caught in her throat, vision blurred by tears. Clutching the paper tightly, she read the words repeatedly, struggling to accept their meaning.

“I need you to understand, my dear,” her aunt’s voice, weakened but filled with determination, echoed in the room. 

“There are things, things I have kept from you to protect your mind and soul.”

Her aunt reached for her hand, the warmth of their connection grounding them in that vulnerable moment. The intricate dance between clans, the bloodshed, and the sacrifice her aunt had made to shield her from the harsh realities of their world.

“But it seems that my judgement was clouded—” In that moment, the room seemed to hold its breath, as if bracing for the revelation that would reshape the very foundation of her understanding. The vulnerability in her voice resonated with the unspoken sacrifices made for the sake of protection. Or at least that is what she thought she was doing by allowing Min Yoongi to take her into custody and use her as a leverage over the clans in negotiation of dominance.

“We do not have much time I fear,” her aunt continued, urgency etched into her every word. Y/N held her hand tightly, afraid to let her go.

“Once you burn me to ashes, I need you to run and not look back, Kai will help you get away—” a strong cough interrupted her speech and Y/N rushed to get her some tea to ease her throat. A bony hand landed on her forearm, stopping her in motion. Her eyes watered again at the sight of the state God let her aunt get in. Her fingers were turning purple and Y/N knew what that means. Oxygen was leaving her body and the end was near.

“Auntie—” she went to protest, at the time not understanding why she needed to run in the first place. But she listened carefully to her aunt closely when her sore and painful voice mapped out her next steps.

Back then Y/N wanted to believe it was a sacrifice born out of love and the desire to break free from the cycle of violence that had ensnared their family for too long. And her aunt presented her a chance to not be in the middle of the fire.

Peace was a fragile illusion. Min Yoongi may be a titan among the outside world, yet within the confines of his own home, his dominion was about to face its greatest challenge.

Yoongi, engrossed in his reading, spared his wife the intrusion of his gaze, allowing her the solitude to grapple with the weight of her aunt’s revelations. Not having a clue what the dying woman could write.

The revelations echoed in the silence of the room, and when Y/N finally looked up from the letter, her eyes met Yoongi’s. The vulnerability in that moment transcended the complexities of their current situation, forging an unspoken false connection on his side rooted in pain and the unravelling of hidden truths. In a burst of fury, she lashed out.

“You’re a fucking liar.”

An anger radiated from her, the heat rushing to her head. Yoongi’s eyes locked onto hers; he didn’t flinch at the sudden eruption of anger — it was nothing he didn’t already get used to. Instead, he folded the paper with deliberate care, setting it aside.

“Am I?” His response was laced with a hint of amusement, a calculated provocation that stoked the flames of her anger.

The contents of the letter, as it seems, are not what he hoped for. Nonetheless, he wondered whether he would fight this battle. Sooner or later she would learn the truth. It’s the timing that was not perfect and he knew it’s going to be hard to put the fire out.

“You manipulated her into agreeing—” Yoongi sucked the inner side of his mouth and released it with a loud click of his tongue, trying to compose himself for what is to come as she now knows.

“—with a choice, dove. A difficult one, yes, but she made the decision on her own accord,” Yoongi interjected, his voice maintaining a disconcerting calmness.

“You lied to her!” A wry smile played on Yoongi’s lips as he met her accusing gaze. Y/N was hanging on the farthest end of the branch and soon enough she would fall. Yoongi’s gaze remained fixed on Y/N, his calm demeanour a stark contrast to the storm brewing within her.

“She would not have approved if she knew of your intentions!” Yoongi leaned against a nearby table after he stood up, his gaze unwavering. He realised that what she is implying is true. But he also knew that this is not the world where Wang Xiaoqing would be stupid enough to give him her hand. She knew what it would mean.

“Power comes with a price. Your aunt understood that and made the necessary sacrifice.” Y/N scoffed at his words, incredulous. Yoongi’s response was a wry smile, a silent admission of guilt that he would never voice out.

“And what of my sacrifice? What about the life I wanted, the choices I never got to make? You took them from me!” He reached out to her, his fingers gently tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. Yoongi looked at her trembling lips and caught himself thinking how good they felt against his last night.

Y/N, caught between anger and grief, searched Yoongi’s eyes for any sign of remorse. Yet, all she found was the unwavering resolve of a leader who had chosen duty over sentiment.

Her patience was wearing thin, her anger boiling over like a cauldron on the verge of eruption.

“I did what I had to do for the survival of our clan—” she struck out, her hand connecting with his cheek in a resounding slap. Her whole body was shaking with grief, anger and hatred.

Yoongi’s head pivoted slightly at the sudden intrusion he did not expect. Yet, even as she railed against him, hitting him repeatedly, Yoongi remained steadfast. All the curse words she sent his way were only bypassing him. He knows she wouldn’t do this in normal circumstances. But to stop and think for a second — there were never normal circumstances to begin with.

“You took everything from me!” Her voice was a plaintive cry, a desperate plea for justice in a world gone mad.

“I gave myself to you!” She screamed furiously. Yoongi’s eyes, usually calm and collected, flickered with rage. She glared back at him, tears streaming down her face. The reality of her situation sunk in, and Y/N felt a profound sense of betrayal.

“You’re fucking liar Min Yoongi. You never fucking needed to-” Yoongi’s jaw tensed, the anger in his gaze burning like a smouldering ember. His calm façade cracked, revealing the storm of emotions within while she aimed to hit his face again.

“Are you done?” He forcefully grabbed her wrists, stopping her, holding them tightly while he pulled her towards him. She shook her head, trying to break free from his grasp to make more damage. Y/N refused to yield.

“Fucking listen to me, Y/N,” he spoke through gritted teeth, his voice a low growl.

“Yes, I lied to your aunt because I knew where your ambitions lay and where she wanted you to be.” His grip tightened as he continued, his words cutting through the charged air. She shook her head in disbelief, struggling to break free from his hold as he violently pulled her back.

“I knew she would never give me her blessing to marry you!” Y/N’s eyes widened with a mix of surprise and realisation of his confession, confirming the contents of the letter.

“So you fucking tricked her,” she gritted through her teeth. Min Yoongi never intended to send her overseas, just like he promised the dying woman. All this time, she blamed her aunt for choosing her path, unaware of Yoongi’s manipulations.

“I could have slaughtered the whole Triad. Think of this as me being merciful.”

The weight of his words settled in the room, a heavy silence following his chilling revelation.

“You even fooled my father into thinking this is all my aunt’s doing,-” she whispered unbelievably, her voice laced with a bitter realisation. Yoongi’s expression remained impassive, but the truth lingered in the air like a haunting melody.

“You made a promise to her that I will be safe overseas, so why am I here, Yoongi?!”

“Because I fucking fell in love with you!” he exclaimed, his voice rising, his eyes searching for any kind of emotion that would show that she understands his doings. Of course she does not understand, after all, he does not understand how much damage he has done either. He is selfish and he always will be.

“You betrayed her trust!” Y/N’s eyes, on the other hand, searched for any sign of remorse, any glimmer of the man she thought she knew. He exhaled heavily, the weight of their tangled destinies pressing down on him.

“It was either marrying you and having a legitimate claim or bloodshed. Would you rather the worse option?” Y/N’s gaze wavered between anger and hurt, her surroundings fading away.

“You justify cruelty with some deluded sense of righteousness,” she said, her voice strained from the last vestiges of her strength.

“You’re part of this world, part of my world, whether you like it or not—”

“This was never about Yamamotos right?—” She looked right into his eyes, scanning the angry red scar that ran up in his brow that he now raised at her remark.

“—you are going to break the alliance with my father the first chance you get. That is what you mean by legitimate claim, am I fucking right Yoongi?!” He clenched his jaw, frustration etched on his face. Y/N had seen through his carefully constructed façade.

“You only fucking love yourself and your fucking clan!” He hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words but whence she decided that getting physical with him again is the answer — he snapped.

His hand forcefully clutched her jaw in a tight grip, just like when she first opened her eyes under his imprisonment. The wall met her back and she gave out a painful yelp. He closed the proximity to her face and spoke the words right to her ear while watching her struggle to get out of his grip.

“One of the things I love about you, dove, is your cleverness. But this little clever girl needs to finally learn her place,” he said, his words seething with control. She was whimpering in his grip that got tighter and tighter with each word he uttered.

“I took you for a wife so when I blow the brains out of your Sire’s head and take over his Triad, I will be unopposed, that is the truth, now—” Y/N’s eyes widened in both shock and fear as Yoongi’s words penetrated the air around her.

The force of his grip on her jaw made her gasp, the pain radiating through her face. The cold, unyielding wall at her back provided no escape, and she felt a surge of helplessness as his words sank in.

“Yet, out of the love I have for you, I have ensured your lovely sister will have her place within our clan and your mother will be taken care of. It’s the little boy you are afraid I might hurt, innit?” The mention of her family sent a shiver down her spine, and her eyes flickered with a mix of dread and anger.

“Well let us say, if you shall not force my hand by your shenanigans, I shall spare him.”

“You are a psychopathic monster,” she hissed through gritted teeth, her voice barely audible as his grip was not allowing her to speak properly. He chuckled, a dark sound that sent shivers down her spine.

“You were not saying that when I spilled all my love inside of your cunt, claiming you” his lips brushed against her ear as he whispered, cupping her womanhood with his free hand.

“You have no choice in this, dove. You are mine, bound by vows and blood. And when the time comes, you shall see I am the only one who can protect you—” his lips dangerously close to her ear now moved, laying a small peck on her wet cheek, right under her eye.

“—to provide for you,” his lips brushed upon her skin moving to lay another peck to her forehead. Tears streamed down her face.

“—to love you.” He finished, pressing his lips to hers.

“I wanted you from the very beginning. It was always you,—” She narrowed her eyes, a fire igniting within her despite the fear. The taste of his lips lingered on hers as Yoongi pulled away, his eyes fixed on her tear-stained face.

“—even if I would slaughter every member of your Triad, I would have spared you, my love.”

“I would rather die,” she spat at him, a small act of defiance in the face of his cruelty.

“Death is easy, dove. It’s the living hell I can create for you and those you love that should terrify you—” He traced a finger along her jaw, a sickening smile playing on his lips.

“Even the strongest wills can be broken, I still have some ways to make you obey and be a dutiful loving wife.”

“I will not become the submissive wife you fantasise about.”

But the scarred leader had a trick up his sleeve that only time will show whether she will need that kind of fixing.

“You are a challenging one, and I do love a good challenge. However, your defiance is only temporary,” he smirked, a predatory glint in his eyes.

Y/N recoiled, a sense of dread settling in her stomach. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his plans, something insidious lurking beneath the surface. The scarred leader had shown a glimpse of a darker side, a side that made her shudder with apprehension. The voices in her head never left and now they were louder than ever.

“In the end, you will crave me,” his words echoed, each syllable dripping with a sinister certainty. “—And what a good life I can offer. I have all the time in the world to make you mine. Soul and mind.” He continued his monologue. She clenched her fists, steeling herself against the onslaught of doubt and fear.

“If my mind does not betray me, I told you what will happen once you disobey me again, did I not, dove?” her heart pounding in her chest as Yoongi’s words sent waves of revulsion through her. She fought against the oppressive grip on her jaw, her eyes ablaze with a mixture of defiance and fury.

“How exactly did I disobey you, hm?” she demanded, her voice rising with each word.

His chuckle resonated in the room, and he released his hold on her jaw. Y/N slumped against the wall, gasping for a deep inhale of air. The tears blurred her vision and her head seemed too heavy. Yoongi took the little bell on the side table, turning to Y/N, a cold glint in his eyes.

“I assume, the last time I disciplined you, was not simply enough.” He carried on without taking her comment to notice. She struggled to regain her composure, wiping away the tears that clouded her vision.

His fingers toyed with the small bell in his hand, and the room seemed to constrict around her.

The sound of the bell echoed, a disconcerting prelude to what awaited her. Yoongi’s gaze bore into her, a chilling determination evident in his demeanour.

“It seems you need a little reminder.”

Y/N’s pulse quickened, her mind racing with the fear of the unknown. She heard footsteps approaching the room and her head swiftly turned to follow the sound.

“Yoongi—” she pleaded. He remained unmoved. The approaching footsteps grew louder, and a sense of dread settled in the pit of her stomach.

“I hope this will be the final lesson, dove,” Yoongi said, the edge of cruelty evident in his voice. When she saw him reach for the walther in his holster, her pleas became more urgent.

“I am sorry, that’s what you want to hear right, Yoongi? I am sorry!” she implored, her voice shaky with a blend of terror and disbelief. “I will do whatever you want, just don’t—”

But her words were cut short as Yoongi’s hand gripped the handle of the walther. The room seemed to close in around her, the walls similarly closing in on the remnants of her hope. His gaze remained cold, his resolve unyielding as extended hand with the gun in his grip aiming for the incomer sliding the hanji paper door open.

Yoongi’s gaze shifted toward the figure entering the room, and Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. Panic surged through her as she redirected her plea, desperately trying to avert the impending danger. His finger hovered over the trigger. He patiently waited till the door slid all the way in before loading the gun that alarmed Y/N even more.

“Yoongi stop, let us talk—” he had to laugh at how quickly he can have her on chokehold, smothering the fire in her. He was having none of it this time.

But before she could act, Yoongi’s grip tightened on the gun, his finger inching closer to the trigger. The figure in the doorway froze, sensing the danger that lurked in the scarred leader’s cold gaze.

Y/N needed to think quickly, her gaze momentarily meeting the poor made, stopping to look her over, she gulped down. It was her. The young girl’s tears were already falling to the wooden floor once she slumped down to her knees and begged for her life, just like she did months ago near the koi pond that she almost drowned in.

“I told you the Lord has a plan—” Y/N closed her eyes shut tightly, trying to think of a way to save the girl’s life. She owes her so much already and she certainly does not deserve to die because the man cannot handle being rejected each time there’s progress within the messed up relationship he formed in his deluded head.

Her palms pressed to her eyes she breathed the air in. With a surge of determination, she stepped forward, her heart pounding in her chest. Yoongi’s gaze bore into her, his cold eyes reflecting the twisted depths of his obsession.

With a deep breath, Y/N made her move. Ignoring the fear that threatened to paralyse her, she closed the distance between them in a swift motion. Her hand reached up to cup his cheek, her touch gentle yet calculated. His gaze locked with hers in a silent battle of wills. It confused him. What does she think she is doing? The scarred leader was too selfish to stop her. Feeling her warm hand on his cheek made him lose his hardened features.

If he could rule with fear and violence, she can rule with the love he desperately wants her to reciprocate, even if it will be pretended. And pretend she planned to.

Y/N was not stupid, she knew he would not believe her one bit that she is going to be a pitch-perfect mafia wife overnight. But gradually, till she can think of a way to leave. A plan was already writing itself in her conflicted mind. For now, she needed to get the girl out of danger, and if she had to forget about where she was standing and with whom, she would. For a life that can be spared.

And then, without hesitation, she pressed her lips to his in a desperate kiss. It was a gamble, a risky move born out of necessity. But in that fleeting moment, as their lips met in a deceitful embrace, Y/N prayed it would be enough to distract him.

Her heart raced with adrenaline as she poured every ounce of determination into the kiss, willing him to succumb to the illusion of affection. She could feel the tension in his body, his grip on the gun momentarily faltering as she moved her lips against his.

Yoongi was too taken aback to react differently than kissing her back as if this was the last time he was. She used his own tactics against him, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed to pay off. Winning this round with flying colours as the gun with a swift motion was sent clattering to the floor. The sound echoed through the room.

When Y/N finally parted from him, her eyes filled with determination, Yoongi chuckled softly, the façade of affection slipping away. Yoongi took an estranged string of hair and tugged it behind her ear.

“I told you your defiance is only temporary.”

“And you just proved your threats are empty.”

She refused to let his words intimidate her, to succumb to the fear that threatened to consume her. She knew Min Yoongi’s weakness all too well.

Her — it was her greatest advantage now, and she planned to use it to its fullest extent. Her defiance was far from being temporary. One step at a time; she planned to win.

Y/N watched the falling snow from the Cadillac’s window, her mind swirling with the events that had transpired. Min Yoongi sat beside her in stony silence, still seething from their confrontation. He dragged her to the car kicking. His pride was wounded by her defiance. Again. But she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her falter, of breaking under the weight of his control.

This was not the right time for her shell to crack. He needed her composed and Y/N was not feeling like a puppet he has had made of her these past months. He overstepped the line with the knowledge that and in their world, truth can kill.

He dusted his coat and hat from snow once they stepped inside of the hotel they vacated not even a day ago. Y/N felt small once she walked by his side, not because he would intimidate her, that was never the case — her eyes creeped at the hallway where her body was pressed to the wall, strong hand on her neck.

A sense of unease settled over her. She raised her own hand to touch the still sore space covered by the neckline of her qipao, white fur coat draped around her shoulders.

His sharp eyes noticed it and for a fleeting moment he paused, his gaze softening imperceptibly as it fell upon Y/N’s form. Despite the coldness that often characterised his demeanour, there was a flicker of something akin to remorse in his eyes.

That is where Min Yoongi’s remorse lies. He did not regret taking her as wife, he did not regret all the lies, damage and deception he employed to achieve so, what he did regret was her getting physically hurt. He regretted listening to her sister when she said he should stay with the guests instead of attending to you. But as quickly as it had appeared, the moment passed, and Yoongi’s expression hardened once more.

She followed him into the dining hall, her steps hesitant as they walked side by side. The room erupted into applause once they stepped in. The sound echoing off the walls in a cacophony of celebration of the genocide they just performed.

The celebration was a mockery of the destruction they had caused, the lives they had taken in the name of power. Y/N scanned the faces in the room, searching for her family among the crowd. Relief washed over her when she saw Xiaoli, hanged on the arm of Kim Taehyung; she nodded, a silent reassurance that they were safe.

There is never a guarantee that ordinary civilians won’t be harmed as that’s how clan’s limit the possibility of attacking the headquarters which were strategically located in the heart of the city. Therefore, no assurances that innocent lives would be spared.

Her steps remained hesitant as they made their way through the crowded room. Number of men and women patted him on his back, congratulating him on the plan he orchestrated worked just right. And as she cast a glance at Yoongi, she couldn’t help but wonder whether they all would ever find redemption for the sins they had committed.

Yoongi raised his hand once they got in the middle of the dining hall, attempting to silence everyone. The room fell silent, all eyes turning to him expectantly.

But Y/N paid him no mind, her thoughts consumed by the dark undercurrents that lurked beneath the surface. She did not bother to pay attention to her so-called husband’s propagandic words to his blind worshipers. The voices in her head would outcry him or anyone else. For what little her ears caught, there was a sense of pride in his words, a conviction that they had done what needed to be done to protect their interests.

“We must remain vigilant,” he concluded, his voice a warning. “Our enemies may have been vanquished, but new threats will always emerge. We must stand together, united in our resolve to protect what is ours.” Yoongi’s gaze lingered on Y/N possessively. When his gaze fell back to the crowd, he saw his right hand man making a way to the centre, rather urgently.

“Excuse me,-” Yoongi murmured to those around him, his tone clipped as he stepped away from the crowd. He had little time for idle chatter, especially in the midst of their celebrations.

Namjoon’s expression was grave as he spoke, his words measured and deliberate. “There’s been a development,-” he began, his voice becoming too low to understand what he was saying. Y/N’s eyes flickered to all of them before they landed back on Yoongi and still whispering Namjoon.

Yoongi’s expression remained unreadable as he listened to Namjoon, his features schooled into a mask of stoicism. But as Namjoon’s words sank in, a flicker of something dark and dangerous glinted in his eyes. As Yoongi turned to face her, his gaze piercing and intense, she could not predict what was going to happen.

The scarred leader encouraged everyone to continue with celebrations with a big smile plastered on his face, his voice ringing out with false warmth and cheer. But the persona was long gone once he turned to face the group of his most trusted man.

“Tae, take Xiaoli to her room and come back, the rest, office now—” Yoongi ordered, his tone brooking no argument.

“I’m going to see Bó Chéng and Ma, Yoongi.” She announced, interrupting the stream of his command. Yoongi’s gaze snapped to Y/N, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before his expression hardened once more. He attempted to make a reasonable argument why she cannot go, but there was none, only his selfishness remained. Clutching his fist tightly, he spoke.

“Thirty minutes, then I need you downstairs.” Yoongi’s jaw clenched as he struggled to contain his frustration. Y/N nodded curtly, she knew that this is a rare occasion that he would agree without a fight.

“Dove?” Yoongi called when she turned to walk away. He hesitated for a moment, his thoughts racing as he searched for the right words. The darkness and possessiveness that loomed over him overshadowed any kind of sincerity he wished he would say instead.

“Do not make me come and get you.”

The atmosphere was heavy with tension as Yoongi sat behind his desk, his expression unreadable as he listened to the reports from his subordinates. The news of Chanyeol’s demise lingered in the air like a dark omen, casting a shadow over the room.

“Are you certain it was a suicide?” Yoongi’s voice cut through the tense silence of the room.

“They found him hanging in his cell,” Namjoon replied, his tone cautious. “No signs of foul play.”

Yoongi’s mind raced with questions. The absence of a trial meant that Chan-yeol’s fate had been sealed, his sins catching up to him in the most final of ways.

“His death was inevitable,” Yoongi murmured, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation. “But it serves as a reminder to all who dare to betray us.”

“He fucking deserved to have his balls cut off, Hyung.” The youngest member of the board spoke with venom in his voice. The sentiment was shared by many in the room, but Yoongi knew that dwelling on revenge would only serve to distract them from their true objectives. Nonetheless, he silently nodded in agreement.

“Are all our goods secured, Jimin-ah?” Yoongi shifted the conversation to more practical matters, his focus unwavering despite the weight of recent events. Their operations could not afford to falter.

“They’re secured, Hyung,” Jimin replied, his tone confident. “We’ve taken the necessary precautions to ensure our assets remain protected.”

“Good,” Yoongi said, his voice firm. “We can’t afford any mistakes. Keep a close eye on everything, and report any unusual activity immediately—”

“What is it, Yoongi?” The doctor’s voice resonated throughout the room. He was sitting near the fireplace, nursing a glass of liquor in his hand, his eyes sharp and thin while looking at his brother and leader.

The moment he stepped inside of the hotel, Seokjin knew something had happened that got under Yoongi’s skin. The only reason is still absent in this room, her time slowly waning.

Yoongi’s gaze flickered towards Seokjin, his brother’s interruption breaking the flow of their conversation.

“We have matters to attend to, Seokjin,” Yoongi replied, his tone clipped but not unkind. “Important ones.”

“Rumour has it—” he stood up, ignoring the scarred boy’s dismissal he had known forever, Seokjin’s eyes bore into Yoongi’s, a silent challenge passing between them.

“That while you celebrate the victory, your own household is on fire.” Yoongi’s jaw tightened, a silent acknowledgement of the truth in Seokjin’s words.

“So tell us what is bothering you.” Despite his efforts to maintain his composure, he couldn’t entirely mask the unease that gnawed at him. Reaching the spot where his bride imprinted her hand earlier, he spoke.

“She knows Wang Xiaqing did not give me any blessing to marry her.” He could visibly see his right-hand man pressing his fingers to the root of his notes and sighing loudly. The youngest could not help but chuckle at his leader’s words as he sympathised with Y/N to most. Not enough to help her out of this situation though.

Seokjin’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his gaze locking onto Yoongi’s with intensity. The revelation hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the room.

“And how did she come to know this?” Seokjin’s voice was low, a mixture of concern and curiosity. Yoongi’s jaw tensed, his expression clouding over with frustration.

“I gave her the letter without reading it first.”

“Yoongi why the actual fuck you would do that?!” Namjoon’s voice cut through the tension in the room, his anger palpable. Yoongi’s gaze hardened as he turned to face Namjoon, his frustration simmering beneath the surface.

“Because she was making good progress, and I couldn’t deny it any longer,” Yoongi replied. Namjoon’s expression softened his features, reflecting a mix of sympathy and understanding.

“It does not matter, Hyung, she is your wife and that cannot be undone, right?” Hoseok’s voice carried a note of reassurance when he softly smiled at him.

Seokjin held up a hand, silencing the room. His pointing finger aimed at Yoongi next. “Yes, whatever happens, she is still your wife.”

“Yeah, well, go and tell her that, see if she listens.” Yoongi muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration, sinking back to his armchair. Namjoon exchanged a knowing glance with Seokjin.

“Does she know about your plans for her father’s Triad?” Namjoon’s question hung in the air, injecting a new layer of tension into the room.

Yoongi’s hand was pinching his lip when the question was raised. His eyes on neither of the men questioning him.

“She figured,” he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. Seokjin’s expression tightened, his gaze narrowing as he processed Yoongi’s words. Namjoon’s eyes widened in surprise, his brows furrowing with concern and the rest of the man reflected the same kind of emotions.

“Hyung, but you just said she made progress, right? All will be good.” Namjoon’s question hung in the air, injecting a note of uncertainty into the conversation. Yoongi’s jaw clenched, his mind racing as he considered Namjoon’s words. He had believed that Y/N understood her role in their world, but recent events had shaken that belief to its core.

“I thought she did,” Yoongi murmured, his voice heavy with regret. “But now, I’m not so sure.” The remaining six were staring at their leader, expecting them to fill him in. They needed to know the situation in case little Mrs Min attempted to ruin every ongoing operation by running away.

“Well then, humble her like you always do—” Namjoon began, his tone suggesting a ruthless solution to the problem. The rest of them were not as right with their brother’s drastic intentions. Apart from Seokjin, he knew the young gal enough to know that being soft wouldn’t move her. But Yoongi’s interruption cut through the air like a knife.

“She said my threats are empty.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of Yoongi’s words hanging in the air.

“Fucking show her they are not, Yoongi. You’re the Kkangpae, and she is your wife, goddammit.” Namjoon’s frustration boiled over, his voice laced with urgency. They needed her well, alive and here as an obedient and loyal wife.

Yoongi had given her the chance to do so willingly, he had even gone against his trusted men’s words when he suggested she be involved in the business however she liked. He tried to play nice numerous times. In his mind. Not in hers.

Yoongi shall never fully scope how much he took from her. He is selfish enough to never even accept the possibility of letting her go for the better course in their damaged relationship. He always ruled with fear and kindness was only recently added to his vocabulary once he fell in love with her. Deeply, quickly and too hard. Whether he was willing to make that sacrifice, to truly change the way he ruled his empire, remained to be seen.

He wanted to mould her into the perfect wife for a Kkangpae. But he also wished that she would reciprocate his love. He had demanded too much of her, without ever truly understanding the cost. And as he looked around the room at the faces of his most trusted allies, he realised that he was not the only one who had underestimated the strength of her will.

Every one of them thought this matter would be solved after the wedding and she would slowly succumb to what life they offered her. But if there was one thing he was certain of, it was this: he would do whatever it took to keep her by his side, even if it meant confronting the darkest parts of himself in the process.

“I can always fix her, Yoongi.” Yoongi’s jaw clenched as he processed the implication behind Seokjin’s statement.

“That shall be the very last option, aight?” Yoongi finally replied, his voice firm despite the doubt that gnawed at him.

They may not have agreed with his decision, but they recognized the weight of his words. And in that moment, Yoongi thought that he had taken the first step towards redemption. Only to fall back down for what he is going to do.

“You underestimate the power of discontent, brother,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “It festers, grows until it consumes everything in its path. You would do well not to ignore it.”

“I’ll handle it,” he said, his voice filled with determination.

The door creaked open, revealing a figure standing in the doorway. Fashionably late, she at least arrived after she made sure that her little brother and mother were safe and sound. She has put him down for his afternoon nap, promising him to make a snowman when he wakes up.

The men’s looks met her eyes with a hint of little something Y/N could not interpret.

“What is it?” She asked carefully, scanning their faces.

“We were just discussing some matters concerning the recent events.” Seokjin steadied his voice and fixed his tie.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at the tension in the air, but she forced herself to maintain a calm façade. She stepped further into the room, her eyes flickering between the faces of the men gathered around the table.

“Is there something I need to be aware of?” she asked, her tone carefully neutral.

“Chan-yeol’s dead,” said Yoongi coldly. She swallowed hard, trying to process the information.

The tension in the room seemed to thicken as the men exchanged guarded glances. Yoongi’s gaze bore into hers, searching for any hint of vulnerability. But Y/N held his stare, refusing to show any weakness in front of him or his associates.

Truth to be told, she did not know how to feel. The man was an accomplice in an act not worthy of heaven’s gate after death. The numbness that was creeping in her brain was spreading further and further.

“Does Daiyu know?” She gulped down the question, avoiding direct eye contact with any of the men.

“She knows. There will not be any funeral as he was a traitor to our clan.”

In their world, traitors were dealt with swiftly and without mercy. There would be no mourning for Chan-yeol, no funeral to honour his memory. He had chosen his path, and now he would face the consequences.

Y/N breathed the thick air of the room deeply in and licked her lips, her teeth scraping the bottom lip, a subconscious gesture of anxiety. The world of the Kkangpae was unforgiving, its rules and consequences absolute.

“Well, if you excuse us Buin, we shall take our leave.” Hoseok sensed that it was the right time to flee this room before more private and intense conversations could start between the man and his wife.

“Of course,” Y/N replied, her voice barely above a whisper. She watched silently as the men filed out of the room one by one, their expressions unreadable as they passed her by. Alone in the room with Yoongi, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that they will not have a pleasant conversation.

She turned to face him, searching his expression for any sign of what was to come. Their inner problems were never concluded, rather set on pause and Y/N had a hunch that Yoongi would not let her earlier shenanigans go.

“I want to speak to her, Yoongi.” She knew that asking to speak with Dayiu was a bold move, especially given the recent events and the strained dynamics between them.

“Why?” he asked, his tone betraying none of his thoughts or emotions.

“I want to express my condolences.”

“Condolences?-” he echoed, the scepticism evident in his tone. What kind of condolence she wanted to express when the very same man was an accomplice of such a sinistrous act.

“She lost a husband and the little boy lost his dad—” He knew Y/N well enough to recognise when she was being genuine and when she was attempting to manipulate the situation to her advantage. There was a flicker of something in his eyes, a hint of guardedness, perhaps even suspicion.

“Do you want to perchance tell her to run, dove?” Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at the directness of his question.

“I want to offer my condolences sincerely,” she replied, her voice steady despite the tension in the room. “Whatever may have transpired between us should not affect her, Yoongi.” Yoongi’s gaze remained fixed on Y/N, assessing her words and the sincerity behind them. She meant to say that whatever happens in their messed up relationship, Daiyu should never be used as bargain anymore.

“I agree. But you just won’t ever learn, will you?” Their eyes locked, each of them holding their ground in the midst of their complex emotions.

“Yoongi, you ruined my goddamn life. Please don’t expect me to play house with you.”

“I’m offering you the life of a queen and all I ask for in return is obedience, perhaps love in time.” She heard this kind of proclamation way too many times for it to waver her.

“Well, I certainly did not ask for it.” She clasped her hands together, aiming to leave the room and find her cousin.

“Sit your ass back down. I’m not done.”

Y/N froze at Yoongi’s command, her muscles tensing as she slowly turned back to face him. Despite her inner turmoil, she complied, sinking back into the chair with a heavy sigh.

“You needn’t tell her to run. I have no intention to hurt her in particular. She played her part.”

“What else do you want from me, Yoongi?” she asked, her voice laced with frustration and exhaustion, not believing a word he was saying. “Haven’t you taken enough?”

“You needn’t concern yourself with her fate. Focus on your own.” Y/N’s heart sank at his words.

“I want you to see that everything I do, I do for us. For our future.” Y/N’s eyes narrowed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. Yoongi’s jaw clenched, his frustration palpable.

“I won’t be a part of your game anymore, Yoongi,” she declared, her voice unwavering. “I won’t—” a knock on the double door echoed, interrupting her.

Yoongi’s gaze flickered towards the door, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his features before he composed himself.

“Come in,” he called out, his voice firm. The siblings came just in time. Afterall, the Kkangpae requested their presence.

Dayiu’s eyes were red and swollen, a testament to the grief she carried, while Kai’s expression was hardened, unknowingly walking to a trap.

She greeted the young Kkangpae with a respectful bow. Kai remained silent, his eyes darting between Yoongi and Y/N.

Y/N watched the interaction, her earlier confrontation with Yoongi momentarily set aside in the face of a new development.

The room teetered on the edge of chaos she obviously did not see coming, and the consequences of this confrontation were poised to reshape the dynamics in their relationship. For good, he hoped.

They exchanged small talk with their leader while Y/N sat there silently. Only now and then did she raise a sympathetic look Daiyu’s way. She did not have a chance to speak with her since Chan-yeol drugged her and sold her out just to betray the very same man months later.

Y/N wished to apologise for every single unpleasant discontent she caused to her because of the fire she burnt Yoongi with.

Leaning in close to Daiyu, Y/N whispered her apologies, her words a quiet admission of remorse for the pain she had inadvertently caused.

She reached out, squeezing Y/N’s hand in a gesture of understanding her desire to live her life the way she wants. Daiyu shares the same ambition now that her husband is no longer in the picture. But that is, of course, not going to be granted.

As she was not paying attention to what Yoongi and Kai are further discussing, a mistake on her part. The next shocked her to the core.

Kai went to stand up just to be sent flying to the ground by Yoongi knocking him down. Y/N’s heart lurched with horror.

“Yoongi, what the fuck!” Y/N yelled, shielding Daiyu with her body.

“Missus Park?” Yoongi called. “I would rather you not stay for the next couple of moments.” Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at Yoongi’s words.

“You see, Missus Park. I need to show my wife just how much my threats are not empty.” His voice was full of violence and Y/N’s heart pounded too loud and hard. She shot a concerned look at Daiyu, silently communicating her support and urging her to leave the room.

“Both of you. Leave, right now!” With a nod of understanding, Dayiu rose from her seat, casting a final glance at Y/N before quietly exiting the room. Panic surged through her veins as she watched Daiyu leave the room, her gaze fixing on Kai, struggling to stand up and run, his eyes reflecting fear.

Yoongi’s gaze locked onto hers, his expression dark and foreboding. She knew she couldn’t escape his wrath, not now.

“Yoongi, stop!” Her palms blunt against his torso, trying to stop him from proceeding further, just to be pushed back to the armchair, little too hard than Yoongi intended to. His mind and fists aimed at the younger boy’s face. Her words fell on deaf ears as Yoongi continued his assault, his rage unchecked and his fury unleashed.

The sickening sound of bone crunching beneath his blows and painful cries from Kai’s mouth was haunting the room. Yoongi dragged him to the nearest wall and pressed his head tightly to the concrete with his hand. The skin of his knuckles was torn and full of blood. Not as much blood as Kai’s face produced after being beaten numerous times. Kai’s painful cry got louder once Yoongi kept pressing his cheek to the wall.

With each crunch of bone and each agonised cry that echoed through the room, Y/N’s desperation grew. She knew she had to act, to do something to protect Kai from further harm.

“Yoongi, this is all me. Punish me!” She scrambled to her feet, her hands shaking with fear and adrenaline as she desperately tried to intervene, to stop Yoongi from inflicting any more harm on Kai. She did not expect him to take a hit on Kai, he followed his orders thoroughly, the younger boy even pledged his loyalty to him. Y/N's mind scratched his name from the list, another mistake on her part.

Y/N’s voice cracked with emotion as she made her desperate plea, hoping to redirect Yoongi’s rage away from Kai and onto herself. She knew she was risking everything by putting herself in the line of fire, but she couldn’t bear to see Kai suffer any longer.

“I was thinking you know—” said the scarred leader. With each passing moment, the weight of their situation pressed down on her, threatening to suffocate her with its overwhelming intensity.

“Forbidding you from this and that won’t work on you nor killing a worthless maid—”

Yoongi’s voice trailed off, his gaze turning back to Kai, whose head was battered and bloodied pressed to the wall, so painful that his consciousness was waning. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she waited for Yoongi’s next move, unsure of what to expect.

“—but hurting someone you care about...” His voice was chilling, the threat implicit in his words. Y/N’s blood ran cold as she realised the full extent of Yoongi’s intentions. He was using Kai as a pawn in his twisted game, manipulating her emotions to bend her to his will.

“His life and blood are on your hands, love.”

She looked into Kai’s eyes, seeing the pain and terror reflected in them, knowing that his fate now rested in her hands. Yoongi did not plan to kill him altogether, he just wanted her to succumb to submission and obedience.

“No, Yoongi, please!” she pleaded, her voice trembling with emotion. But Yoongi’s expression remained cold and impassive, his resolve unyielding. She felt as though her soul was being torn apart, torn between her love for Kai and her desperate need to protect him.

She had had enough. She had seen enough. And she was ready to give up her life to save his. Y/N thought about this option way too often lately. Whether her sacrifice would be enough to save Kai from further harm remained to be seen.

In that moment of desperation and despair, Y/N’s mind raced as she weighed her options. The thought of sacrificing herself to protect Kai from further harm consumed her thoughts, and with a sense of grim determination, she reached for the same unfortunate knife that saved her from her father’s wrath before.

With a steady hand, she withdrew the weapon, its cold metal glinting in the dim light of the room.

“Y/N…” he had to look back at her twice before he realised what was going on. Yoongi’s gaze flickered toward her, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes as he realised her intentions. But before he could react, Y/N pressed the blade against her own throat, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and resolve.

“Let him go Yoongi, or I swear I will do it,” she declared, her voice quavering but firm. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as they all grappled with the gravity of the situation. Y/N waited, her hand steady against her throat, her gaze unwavering as she dared Yoongi to make his next move.

Yoongi’s hand left the already fractured skull of his wife’s cousin, and Kai slumped down by the wall, grunting loudly. The scarred leader who thought is holding the young gal in chess mate was taken aback by the sudden turn of events.

“I let him go, baby, now put the blade away.” Y/N hesitated, her grip on the sharp letter opener tightening involuntarily.

The rush of adrenaline had drowned out her fear momentarily, leaving her with a fierce determination to stand her ground.

“No,” she said firmly, her voice tinged with defiance. Yoongi took a step towards her small form. Her eyes crimson red, tears streaming down as she said that.

“We can talk—”

“It always starts with a talk, Yoongi, doesn't it?” Y/N interrupted, her voice trembling with emotion but her resolve unwavering. She held the knife steady, its blade gleaming in the dim light of the room.

Yoongi’s expression darkened, a mixture of frustration and anger flashing across his features. He took another step closer, his gaze locked on Y/N’s determined face. He was afraid and the young leader was only afraid of one thing. Losing her.

“Love, fuck, please I beg you to put it down, baby.” Y/N shook her head again.

“I told you I am your weakness, Yoongi, now you see for yourself.”

For the first time in a long time, Yoongi felt truly afraid. Not for himself, but for Y/N. He knew that he had pushed her too far, that his actions had driven her to this desperate act. And as he stood before her, pleading to put down the knife, he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that he had already lost her.

He had always prided himself on his ability to maintain control in any situation, but now, faced with the prospect of losing Y/N, he felt powerless. He made her go mad.

As Yoongi reached out his hand towards her, a silent plea in his eyes, Y/N knew she couldn’t back down. It is him who will never learn, not her. Pressing the knife tighter, piercing the first layer of the skin, painting the blade red. A thin crimson line trickled down her neck making Yoongi’s eyes widen in panic. She could not feel a thing through the adrenaline and post traumatic experience from the events that led her to close her mind and not feel, her eyes were still fixated on him and how terrified he looked.

“Y/N, please,-” he begged, his voice raw with emotion. Now it was her who remained unmoved, her eyes blazing with defiance as she held her ground.

“Say it, Yoongi.” She declared. Giving him the taste of his own medicine. And the dark sickening part of Yoongi knew that he had finally met his match. She wanted him to suffer just as much as he made her suffer.

“I’m so sorry, love,-” what he always forced her to say, thinking he is teaching her of accountability, now left his lips. Yet, he could never be accountable for his own actions, could he?

“You’ve taken my life from me!” her voice filled with bitterness and resentment.

“I know,-” he whispered, gulping down the lump in his throat. His voice was heavy with remorse that did not reach sincerity. “And I will spend the rest of my life trying—”

“Fuck you! You are like a broken record, a lying one!” She had seen through his façade, seen the darkness that lurked beneath his composed exterior, and she refused to let him off the hook so easily. But he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her, couldn’t bear the thought of spending the rest of his life haunted by the memories of what he had done.

“I will do everythi—”

“But you will never let me go.”

For a moment, Yoongi was speechless, his mind racing as he grappled with the realisation that he had pushed her too far. There were no words he could say to make her put the blade down from her neck. The absence of words only confirmed hers.

“The only blood I shall have on my hands shall be mine.”

He immediately crossed the distance to reach out - to stop her - to tell her that he would do anything to make things right, but he knew it was too late for that.

“NO!”

With a desperate scream from his mouth, Yoongi watched as Y/N swiftly swiped the blade against her own skin, cutting deeper, painting the qipao embroidered with pink roses and green leaves she was clad in crimson red with her hot blood.

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©pennyellee. please do not repost

author's note: sheesh, here we go, i thought that no chapter will be hard for me to write since the last one, but this one did a number on me tbh. But more importantly for yall my beautiful chummers, if you feel like this is the end you imagined for lacrimosa and y/n, I strongly encourage you to not proceed to read the following chapters. Not every piece of media is meant for everybody and I totally respect if the way in which will lacrimosa continue won't be everyone's cup of tea or simply not the trope they wanted. I hold the pen and I love yall, I won't change the outline of lacrimosa I planned because of relativity tho. Therefore, those who are satisfied with this kind of ending - I love you, I'm grateful, and I thank you hundred times that you took the time to read this fic. Those who wants to follow the "couple" a bit more, stay tuned and patient for other chapters. I love you 🫧♡ ︎

shout-out to Bex, the queen @chaoticpuff17, for beta another chapter!

Love you all!! ♥

Don't be a silent reader, comment, re-blog, heart, asks are more than welcome ♥

keep in mind - I'm not an expert on chinese, korean and japanese culture, but I tried to research everything realistic I wanted to add to the story. Nonetheless, take it as a fiction.

let's be friends chummers 🫧♡ ︎

lots of love, p.

tag list: @beautifulcloudfestival - @honsoolgloss - @jingerbreadoutofstock - @moscow778 - @januara26 - @dinosolecito - @yoongislatinagff - @xyahrinx - @hi12345567 - @nochuel - @deltamoon666 - @bbkissme99 - @darkuni63 - @nansasa - @sazsazsaz - @missmin - @strxwbloody - @royallyjjk - @jaiuneamesolitaiire - @shadowyjellyfishfest - @bbgniecyy - @elayne321 - @seojunandsoju - @bun-27 - @whipwhoops - @wobblewobble822 - @whofan88 - @haneyyyyyy - @lostgirlinthewoodss - @secfir - @btspurplesky - @elleflying07 - @pamzn - @megseungmin - @selenophileforlife - @idkjustlovingbts @seonghwaexile

[holllandtrash]

better left unsaid | lando norris

pairing: lando norris x reader and some pierre gasly x reader

request: yes 'i was thinking 68 and 70 from your prompt list? maybe lando?' 68. “I wish I’d never met you.” 70. “I’m sorry [Y/N], I’m so sorry.” wordcount: 5.5k+ warnings/tags fuckboy!pierre, asshole!lando, they're all drunk, max (fewtrell) is the only wholesome one, just a bunch of angst rly

You loved Lando, how could you not? You loved everything about him. The way his laugh varied depending on the situation, on who was telling what joke, on how comfortable he felt with the people around him. Same with his smile. You liked to think you were a goddamn pro at being able to tell his smiles apart.

There were slight differences between them. The smile he gave Oscar at the end of completing a pretty successful weekend was proud, but not cocky. He was already thinking about how he could drag this type of energy into the next race as he fist bumped his teammate and made his way through the garage.

The cheeky grin he wore as he walked through the paddock at the end of the day was contagious. The more people who congratulated him, the bigger it grew. He stopped for anyone who asked for a photo or an autograph. There was this sense of joy that radiated off of him, he was on top of the world and everyone saw it.

And then there was the smile that spread across his face when he spotted you standing by the gates. The grin that went from cheek to cheek was the kind that made your jaw hurt if you held it long enough. This was his best weekend in a long time and you were there to watch the whole thing, which made it mean so much more to him.

Lando was one of your oldest friends. You grew up together, went on family vacations together. You were always at his side, metaphorically and sometimes quite literally, while he was making it in the karting world until he eventually made it to Formula 1. 

And it was only a matter of time until you fell for him. 

You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment, it was more of a gradual thing. What started as an I like being around him somehow spiralled into oh good god I think I love him. 

But of course you couldn’t tell him. Not only was a girlfriend so extremely low on his priority list, but in the past you had tried dropping signs and leaving hints, only for Lando to either ignore them or not even see them. To him, you were simply his best friend. That’s all you’d ever be because that’s all he needed from you. You were his rock, you kept him grounded, you were someone he could always rely on.

He loved you, you knew he did, but not the way you loved him. 

“P2 baby. Another podium in the books,” you beamed, your laughter becoming muffled when Lando pulled you in for a tight embrace. It had been well over an hour since the ceremony ended so he had changed and quickly stepped into the shower to rid himself of any grime or sweat from the race. 

Lando dropped the bag that was in his hand, wanting to hug you tighter. You didn’t care who in the paddock saw the way he pulled you against his chest. You weren’t concerned about the few curious eyes of those who managed to catch the way his fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, sending goosebumps over your skin. 

“I want to celebrate,” Lando’s voice deepened as he spoke directly into your ear. Your heart skipped a beat at his words, knowing exactly what he meant. 

Lando rarely drank. The party scene wasn’t for him, with only a few exceptions. A podium, being one of them. You knew he wanted to let loose before the worries of a new race weekend sank in and he wanted you at his side. 

A car horn pulled you two apart. You turned your head to see your other friend Max, pulling up in Lando’s McLaren. He put it in park and got out, tossing Lando the keys over the access gate. 

“Are you two just going to stand there or are we going out?” Max yelled, earning a laugh from Lando. You watched his face light up before he swung the key around on his finger. He reached for you, quickly giving your arm a tender squeeze, a move so subtle you almost missed it, before he made his way to the car.

You were confused when Max stopped you from heading towards your own car. You drove to the track separately, knowing Lando’s car only had room for two. 

“I’ll just meet you guys at the hotel.”

“No you won’t,” Max scoffed, grabbing your keys that you had just pulled from your pocket. He nodded his head towards the passenger door of the black McLaren, “Ride back with Lando.”

“I can’t leave my car here.”

“I’ll drive it back,” Max raised his eyebrows, giving you that specific look he had given you so many times before. If there was anyone that wanted to see you and Lando together, it was him. He was your biggest wingman, he knew about your feelings for the driver and did whatever he could to push you two in the same direction. 

“He’s on a high right now, y/n,” Max pointed out. “If there’s ever a time to tell him how you feel, it’s tonight.”

The only reason Max knew about your feelings for Lando was because of one stupid night out almost a year ago. You had more to drink than you should have and while Lando was by the bar, chatting up some girl, you sat next to Max in the booth and straight up asked him what she had that you didn’t.

Needless to say, that sparked the start of a very long conversation. Max got everything he could out of you, knowing that you wouldn’t say any of this when sober. The next morning, he told you everything you had admitted to, but also promised he wouldn’t tell Lando about how you felt. That was something only you could do.

Max gave you an encouraging pat on the arm and pivoted on heels to find your car in the lot. You grabbed the door handle of the McLaren and slid in. There was a sliver of confusion on Lando’s face, but it soon vanished and was instead replaced by a smirk, watching you as you buckled in your seatbelt.

“Max driving your car back?” Lando asked. 

You came up with a lie on the spot as to why you weren’t driving it, “Yeah it’s making this strange sound, he said he’d listen for it and let me know.”

Lando nodded, humming to himself in response but you could see it on his face. He didn’t believe your words for a second. He wasn’t going to question you, or Max for that matter, but he knew there was nothing wrong with your car.

“You were incredible this weekend,” you told him after a few minutes of driving in silence. “I love watching you race, it’s exhilarating.” 

Lando’s smile grew, “I’m glad you came, truly. I love having you around. You’re my best friend, you know, it almost feels like somethings missing when you’re not here.”

He turned his head and met your stare. His words meant more to you than he’d ever know.

“You know I love you, right?” You said, knowing full well that Lando didn’t understand the true meaning behind that sentence. He tossed that word around so casually when talking about friends, you were no exception.

But he reached across the middle console and squeezed your leg twice, turning his attention back to the road in front of him, “Love you too.”

———————

You had packed for a night out. A black leather skirt, knee-length boots and a top so small that it probably had your ancestors rolling over in their graves. But you looked hot, that was the whole point. 

When Lando knocked on your day, he was visibly taken aback by your appearance, needing to do a double take before speaking.

“Are you-” his eyes dropped to your chest and he cleared his throat, “The Uber’s out front.”

You nodded, grabbing your phone from the table and following him out into the hall. You met up with Max who was waiting for the elevator. He let out a low whistle when you turned the corner and your cheeks flushed bright pink. 

“You look good, y/l/n,” Max said, not at all trying to hide the way his gaze lingered over your body. You playfully twirled and then rested your arm over Lando’s shoulder for support. When he instinctively placed his hand at the small of your back, you and Max shared a similar, knowing look. 

Maybe tonight was the night. Maybe you and Lando would finally get over that brick wall that kept you from being more than friends. 

The elevator arrived and the three of you walked in. When it came to choosing seats in the Uber, Max practically sprinted towards the front seat, leaving you and Lando to climb into the back. 

You didn’t say anything when his knee brushed against yours. You also didn’t say anything when he casually dropped his hand to your leg, his fingers spreading across your bare thigh as if he had done it fifty times before (he hadn’t). And you especially didn’t say anything when he told you there was an eyelash on your cheek when you turned to look at him and he gently brushed his thumb under your eye. 

But in return, Lando didn’t say anything when he most definitely noticed you glancing at his lips. He also stayed quiet when you flicked your hair over your shoulder, but the scent of your shampoo was definitely intoxicating and he just never noticed it before. Or maybe he had and refused to let himself think about it. 

And when you finally pulled up outside the club, Lando held the door open for you and held out his hand to help you out. He kept his fingers interlocked with yours until you made it inside and up the stairs towards the closed off VIP section. When he spotted Charles and Carlos, Lando headed off to start a conversation with them after assuring you he’d be right back.

Max appeared at your side, nudging his arm against yours, “So?”

“So what?” You asked. The two of you walked towards one of the empty booths. 

“So that entire car ride was filled with nothing but sexual tension and if you say otherwise then you’re either blind or lying.”

“I’m not saying anything,” you shrugged innocently, clasping your hands under your chin as Max just shook his head at you. 

Your gaze travelled across the floor, landing on the McLaren driver. He was laughing at something Carlos had said but every so often, he would glance in your direction. And then when Carlos leaned in and whispered something that only Lando would hear, both of their heads turned to look at you. Suddenly feeling very self conscious of potentially being the topic of their conversation, you told Max that you were going to go get a drink.

You were only at the bar for a few seconds before you felt a hand on your back. You glanced up to see none other than Pierre Gasly next to you. He trailed his fingers down your arm, that familiar devious glint in his eyes.

“Y/n,” he greeted you before resting his arms on the surface of the bar. “You came to watch the race?”

You liked Pierre, you did, but you didn’t like his intentions. You and every single woman who were associated with any of the drivers knew all about Pierre’s ways. You had heard the stories of the girls he brought back to hotels and you had even ran into one of them a few weeks ago when you were leaving Lando’s room in the middle of the night after passing out on his couch.

He had tried a few moves on you as well. He wasn’t disrespectful, he never crossed any boundaries. If you were being honest, Pierre was charming, but he wasn’t Lando. 

“Let me get your drink,” he offered when the glass was placed in front of you. He pulled out a black card from his wallet and told the bartender to start a tab. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you told him, but Pierre only leaned in close. His warm breath hit your ear and you swallowed in anticipation, wondering which of his lines he would try next.

“The polite thing to say is thank you,” he whispered. Pierre then pulled back the slightest bit, lifting his fingers to below your chin to keep your attention focused on him. “Or you can always find a way to thank me later, chéri.”

Pierre’s arm suddenly dropped and you knew why when you felt a protective hand slide around your waist. You didn’t have to turn your head to know that it was Lando pulling you into his side. Pierre didn’t see Lando as competition though, sending a wink in your direction and not even acknowledging the British driver before turning and walking off.

Lando waited until Pierre was out of earshot before speaking, “Don’t tell me you and Pierre are a thing.”

“No,” you scoffed, taking Lando’s hand in yours as you led him back to the booth. 

“Good,” Lando muttered under his breath, stopping you in your tracks. 

You turned around to face him, dropping his hand, “Good? What does that mean?”

“Pierre isn’t someone you want to waste your time with,” Lando told you, as if you didn’t already know this, but he didn’t stop his explanation there. “You deserve someone better than that.”

“Someone like you?”

You don’t know what came over you. You couldn’t blame it on the alcohol because you’d barely taken a sip of your drink. You were stone cold sober, and so was he. 

Maybe it was because of the way he looked at you in the car ride after the race or how he spoke to you with such truth and passion that set your entire body on fire. Maybe it was the way he was looking for any excuse to touch you all weekend. An hour didn’t pass without him tracing his fingers over your skin or reaching for your hand. Maybe it was because for the first time in years, it seemed like Lando was starting to see you as more than just his best friend and god help you, you needed to act on it.

But then that specific glint in his eyes faded. He inhaled a sharp breath that caused your heart to sink deeper into your chest because without even saying a word, you knew what was going through his mind. His features softened, like he felt sorry for you. 

“That wasn’t…” Lando trailed off, lifting his hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “Y/n, I don’t-” 

God he couldn’t even get the words out. Was this hard for him or was he trying to save you from the embarrassment? 

“I’m only teasing,” you lied straight through your teeth, curling your lips back into a forced smile that he undoubtedly saw right through. He was your best friend, he knew you like the back of his hand. 

You wanted him to laugh this conversation off. You wanted him to go along with the lie and say ‘Okay cool, we’re on the same page’. You wanted to take back these last thirty seconds and wipe that horrible, pitiful look right off his face. 

But Lando shook his head. This wasn’t something he could just push to the back of his mind and act like it never happened. 

“I don’t have those types of feelings for you, you know that right?” 

Lando’s words cut through your heart like a sharpened blade. The noise in the club faded into the background and you were worried that if you opened your mouth to say something, all that would come out would be a strangled sob. 

“I love you, y/n, I do, but the same way I love Max or Carlos or any of my other friends,” this just kept getting worse. “I’m not in-” 

“Don’t,” you cut him off, your voice barely a whisper. “You don’t need to say it. I get it.”

“I’m sorry, Y/n,” Lando’s hand twitched, like he wanted to reach for you but decided against it at the very last second. “I’m so, so, sorry.”

You felt like an idiot as a bitter chuckle escaped your lips, “Why? You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one-” you stopped yourself short. You were the one who fell in love with someone who had only ever seen you as a friend. It was your own damn fault you were hurt. 

Why would you think that something would radically change overnight? Lando had never once hinted towards having any sort of feelings for you, but you still managed to find new ways to fall for him every time you saw him. 

“It’s fine,” you finally landed on. Nothing about this felt fine. You forced another smile, softer this time, “Go celebrate your podium.”

And what could Lando say to that? This whole conversation was uncomfortable and heartbreaking and the only thing left to do was end it now before it got worse for both of you. 

Lando nodded and headed off, muttering something about trying to find Carlos. He didn’t give you a second look and you had to fight tooth and nail to not look over your shoulder at him when you made your way back to the booth.

You kept your eyes down, looking at the drink in front of you instead of at Max who quietly admitted that he overheard most of that interaction.

“You alright?” Max’s hand found your back, rubbing small circles on your skin. It wasn’t the least bit comforting. Your best friend was trying to console you after you had just been rejected by your other best friend. You wanted to crawl into a hole and hide away from the world. 

“No,” you sighed, grabbing your glass and raising it up to your lips. You swallowed all of it in a few short seconds and slammed it back down on the table. “I need another one.”

Max grabbed your arm before you could go anywhere, “Don’t do anything stupid, Y/N.”

“Oh you mean like tell my best friend I have feelings for him even though he has never once hinted at having any sort of feelings for me?” You asked, sarcasm dripping from your tongue. Max sank back against the cushion of the booth. “Yeah, too late for that one so I don’t think the night can get any worse.”

God you were so very wrong.

———————

Max tried to keep an eye on you for the rest of the night, but he was caught between you and Lando. He was his friend first and it was his race weekend so when Lando called him over to do shots, he couldn’t say no. You were all out celebrating his successful podium, the only person who wasn’t having a good time was you. 

You had just come back from the washroom when you spotted Lando and Max chatting by the bar. Lando himself was a few drinks in and if your conversation from earlier was weighing heavily on his mind like it was for you, he was doing a damn good job at hiding it.

And then Lando did something unexpected. 

When you approached them, with the sole intent of telling Max you were getting another drink, Lando’s hand slipped around your waist. It literally had you losing your train of thought mid-sentence. 

He had been touchy all weekend, but that was before you decided to wear your heart on your sleeve. His fingers on your bare skin sent a shiver throughout your entire body and you tensed up next to him.

On one hand, you wanted to lean into his touch. You relished over the fact that you were still the one he wanted to be around, even if you meant two completely different things to each other.

On the other hand, you wanted to scream at him. He was leading you on by putting his arm around you when you both knew he had no other intentions. Drunk Lando was still on a high from the podium, he felt like a king. He knew how much you craved being with him and he was eating it up, stringing you along for no reason at all.

“Lando,” you curled your fingers around his hand and peeled it off of you. “Please, don’t touch me.”

His eyebrows pinched together, “What? I’m supposed to treat you differently now because I know that you like me?”

Ouch. 

Max uncomfortably looked between the two of you, trying to decide if he should interfere or not.

“No, just don’t touch me. You have no reason to,” you kept your voice firm even though your heart was shattering on the inside. 

“It didn’t mean anything,” Lando assured you. The underlying sharp tone in his words struck a nerve as he turned on the defence. It didn't mean anything, it never meant anything. He looked you once over and turned towards Max, “I’m grabbing another drink.” He nodded his head towards the bar, signalling for Max to follow him. You were left alone with nothing but a flash of an apologetic look as he trailed behind Lando. 

You could have used another drink as well, but you didn’t want Lando to get the wrong idea and think that you were following him, so you waited, leaning against the railing that overlooked the first floor of the club.

“I’m still waiting for that thank you.”

You recognized the French accent and scoffed as Pierre came and stood next to you. He glanced at the dance floor below you for a second, but his striking blue eyes landed on yours. 

“Piss off, Gasly, I’m not in the mood,” you told him, turning your body completely so you were now pressed against the railing. You rested your arms on top of the metal bar, but that didn’t ward him off. If anything, Pierre appreciated the challenge and stepped in closer, knocking his hip against yours.

“What’s wrong, ma chéri?” 

“First of all, I’m not your chéri,” you tried to mimic his accent but he only found it amusing and chuckled. “Second, I said piss off.” 

Pierre rested his finger beneath your chin, once again guiding your attention towards him and away from the dance floor. You could tell by the look in his eye alone that he wasn’t about to give you the space you asked for. 

“I didn’t think you had a temper,” he said, his voice nearly drowned out by the bass of the song coming from the speakers. He then lightly dragged his thumb over your bottom lip and your breath caught in your throat. “You’re always so sweet in the paddock, but I kind of like this side of you.”

“You really can’t take no for an answer, can you?” You retorted, sounding a lot more confident than you felt. You were only human, Pierre was hot. Plus he had a way with words and could quite literally melt you if he tried hard enough. 

It didn’t help that you had lost count of the number of drinks you had. You also wanted to stay as far away from Lando as possible for the time being and if that just so happened to leave you falling into the arms of one of the other drivers then so be it. 

You weren’t with Lando, he made that perfectly clear. 

“Y/n, if you really wanted me to stop you would have walked away by now,” his accent rang through your ears, along with the truth that you didn’t want to accept. 

But his hand was still cupping your jaw. His eyes were still pulling you in. Your entire body had turned towards him, having given up quite quickly on trying to close him out. 

There was a physical attraction, you couldn’t deny that. Was it only making itself known because the future you wanted with Lando had now been ripped to shreds? Were you only attracted to Pierre because you were slightly intoxicated and wanted a distraction from the horrible turn this night had taken?

These were questions you didn’t want the answer to. 

Pierre dipped his head, his lips hovered over top of yours. If you tilted your chin up even the slightest bit they would have connected, but something told you that Pierre was holding off for a reason. He wanted to pull you in more, leave you begging for something you might regret in the morning. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” He asked, placing his hand on your waist. The feeling of his rings on your skin was intoxicating. The sterling silver band was cold but his touch was warm and inviting. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to answer so you just nodded. You told yourself this would be the one time you’d follow Pierre anywhere. 

He interlocked his fingers with yours and turned around, leading the way out of the club. The two of you got halfway down the staircase before you heard your name being called behind you. 

Craning your neck, you looked up to see Lando standing there. A mix of confusion and judgement was painted all over his face. 

“Where the hell are you going?” He called out, his eyes landing on where your hand connected with Pierre’s.

“Don’t worry, she’ll be home before ten,” Pierre joked, earning him a backhanded slap on the chest from you. You pulled your hand from his and walked back up the stairs, using the top of the bannister for balance when you stopped on the last step, looking up at Lando.

“Are you serious?” Lando scoffed, gesturing towards Pierre. “You said nothing was going on.”

“Yeah that was three hours ago,” you said. “I’m a grown woman, Lando. I can make my own decisions.”

“You’re making a shitty one.”

“Well it’s a good thing I don’t care about your opinion.”

“You seemed to care about it a lot this morning, and yesterday and every fucking day before that.”

You shrugged, “Things change.”

Lando shook his head, his tongue poking out to lick his lips. He was drunk, you both were. This was not a conversation that should have been happening, but no one was stopping you.

“You don’t get to become a bitch to me just because I said I don’t have feelings for you.”

Your eyes widened, “Excuse me how am I being a bitch? Because I’m leaving the club with someone other than you? Because someone else has my attention for once? So sorry I don’t want to sit on your couch for the thousandth time and watch reruns of the fucking Office until you remember to tell me that my flight home is booked for eight am tomorrow.”

Because that would always happen. Lando would send you your boarding pass late Sunday nights and it would be a silent reminder that you couldn’t go with him to the next race, that you weren’t someone he cared enough about to keep around permanently. You’d pass out on the couch in his hotel room and in the morning he’d drive you to the airport, telling you that he was happy you came. Not because he loved you, not because he performed better when you were around, but because you were just one of his friends. Nothing more.

“Okay, I’ll make it easier for you,” Lando said, pulling his phone out of his pocket. You couldn’t see what he was doing, but his screen lit up his face and you could see the concentration in his features. After a few seconds, he locked his phone and smiled at you, “There. If you want to be ungrateful then that’s not a problem, I just cancelled your ticket. Have fun finding a new way home.”

“Oh you asshole,” you pushed on his chest and he stumbled back a bit, the drink in his hand spilling over the sides. “You just want me to need you, that’s all it’s ever been. You don’t give a shit about me or my feelings, you just don’t want me needing anyone else.”

“I don’t give a shit about you?”  Lando practically yelled your words back to you. “Who’s the one who pays for you to come out to the races? Whose house do you stay at when you visit Monaco? Who makes sure you get five-start-fucking-treatment during race weekends?” He paused, his gaze landing on Pierre who had now walked up those few steps to stand behind you. “I’m pretty sure it’s not this French fucker.”

“You’ve been paying for my friendship, Lando,” you spat. “You bring me along to these things because you know I always put you on some kind of pedestal. I practically worship the ground you walk on, that’s the only reason why you keep me around.”

He opened his mouth to retaliate but his jaw tightened and his lips pressed into a thin line. If he had an argument to that, it wasn’t strong enough to prove you wrong. 

“It’s my own fault for thinking your gestures meant anything more,” you admitted to him. “And it’s my own fault for falling in love with you when I knew damn well you’d never do the same.”

There it was. That four letter word. It had remained unspoken in this context for so long, but it was out in the open now. You finally admitted, not just that you loved Lando, but that you were in love with him. And not in a past-tense sort of way.

You were still stupidly in love with him, despite everything that had been said. 

It probably only took a few seconds for you to realise just how much you loved him but it was going to take a hell of a lot longer for those feelings to disappear. 

Falling in love was quick. It was effortless. It was carefree and light and it left you feeling blindly optomistic.

Falling out of love was painful. It was hard, it was a treacherous path that would leave you feeling empty and scarred and the only person to blame was yourself. 

“Honestly, Lando,” your voice trembled, but you kept going, “I wish I’d never met you.”

For once, he was the one who looked like his heart had been ripped out of his chest, “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” you nodded slowly. You felt Pierre’s hand on your back, but you quickly shook it off. “You make my life a living hell because I am constantly chasing after a man who strings me along but never wants me. I would be so much happier if you didn’t consume all of my waking thoughts, if I didn’t have to worry about when I’d see you next, if I didn’t love you.” 

You didn’t want to give him a chance to respond. There was nothing he could say at this point that would make this situation any easier.

So you turned around, pushing past Pierre and making your way down the stairs. You heard the hurried footsteps behind you, but you didn’t get your hopes up into thinking it was Lando that was following you. 

It was Pierre. He placed his hand on the small of your back and led you towards the side entrance of the club, knowing that paparazzi would be crowding the main street. 

“You don’t need to stay with me, I’ll just get an Uber back,” you said, but the way your voice broke matched the defeated look in your eyes and Pierre just shook his head.

“I’m not leaving you, Y/N, not after that. I may not have the best track record with women, but I’m not a total dick.” Pierre slid his blazer off and draped it over your shoulders before stepping out of the crowded club and into a back alley. He glanced at his phone to see when the Uber would arrive and then looked back at you. 

There were tears forming in your eyes and Pierre reached out for you, gently grabbing your arm to pull you into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you and swayed back and forth on his heels, resting his chin on top of your head as your staggered breaths hit the front of his shirt.

“Lando will wake up one day and realise what he lost,” Pierre assured you, a slight chuckle followed his words. You wanted to believe him, you really did. 

But in the back of your mind, you knew that whatever connection you had with Lando was officially over. He wasn’t going to need you, not anymore, not after tonight. 

And those would be the words you would have to tell yourself over and over until eventually, you no longer needed him too. 

--

what do we think, are we team lando or team pierre? all parts here

[shmaptainwrites]

'𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐎 𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 [𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐍]

PAIRINGS — James Wilson x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — James and Reader receive some news that changes everything

WARNINGS — Cancer, cancer treatments (chemotherapty, radiation), hospitals, medical emergencies, ambiguous ending, lots of angst and hurt comfort

NOTE — Yeah so this is technically ansgty James fic no. 2 not no. 1, I personally love the way this one turned out but just a reminder that if you find any of the things mentioned in the warnings triggering please don't read it and put your mental well-being first!

James could feel his heart beating out of his chest. The pounding was ringing in his ears, so much so he could barely hear his colleague as he spoke to him. He thought he probably looked stupid, his mouth hanging slightly agape. 

When he turned around to see you, somehow you were taking the news in much better stride than he was, hands curled up in your lap, nodding along as the doctor spoke. 

As his colleague finished speaking he handed you a few papers to look through, but motioned to James, for what at this point James wouldn’t be able to tell, his ears still ringing as the blood drained from his face. On his way out, the fellow doctor patted James on the shoulder. He assumed it was supposed to be reassuring, but nothing could help him at that moment. 

He wondered if all these years this is how his patients had felt, that even with the most gentle delivery, it wouldn’t change the fact that everything was about to change.

You didn’t say anything, simply looking through the papers and placing a hand on his leg giving it a small squeeze. 

He ran a hand through his hair before bringing it down to hold yours that was resting on his leg. He squeezed it so tight, but you continued reading, giving him a few more moments to adjust. 

Eventually, you couldn’t stand the silence any longer, so you broke it. 

“Jamie-,” 

“How are you so calm?” he interrupted you immediately. 

“My reaction isn’t going to change what’s happening,” you whispered. 

He ran his hands over his face, biting back the tears that were pooling in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry I can’t be like that,” he chuckled humourlessly and you simply wrapped an arm around him, pressing a kiss to his temple. 

“I wouldn’t expect you to be,” you murmured. “Not with everything racing through your head.” 

Your thumb brushed across his forehead, pushing some of his hair out of the way. 

“I’m still here,” you whispered. “I’m here now.” 

He sniffed and tried to sit up straighter, wiping his eyes and nodding his head. 

“You’re right,” he cleared his throat. “I-I’m gonna go tell Cuddy I need to head out early. Wait by my office?” 

“Sure,” you agreed. 

James stood up to leave, but you stopped him. 

“Jamie,” you curled your finger, telling him to come closer, which he did, allowing you to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I love you.” 

“I-I love you too,” he held your face in one hand, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “So much.” 

You smiled while he let his hand drop, making his way to Cuddy’s office. He didn’t feel like it was time to reveal the news in its entirety, so he blamed it on a household emergency for the time being, and Cuddy, knowing James would never leave work without good reason, easily let him go as long as one of the other doctors took care of his patients. 

It wasn’t hard to find someone willing to cover for him. James was well-liked and had made a few friends over the course of his time at Princeton Plainsboro. When he came to his office to grab you to head out, he saw you sitting quietly on the couch, reading one of his medical encyclopedias. 

“Are you sure you want to be looking at that?” he asked, his jacket slung over his arm as he leaned in the door frame. 

“I was just curious,” you said simply, closing the book. “Let’s go home.” 

You pushed yourself up off the couch and James wrapped an arm around your shoulder to rub your arm before dropping his hand and intertwining it with yours. 

The drive home started out silent; aside from the music playing in the background. You had glanced through James’ CD folder, picking something familiar and sliding it into the player. 

“Oh come on,” James looked over at you and you playfully smiled. “Really, honey?” 

“I figured we could use some smiles,” you nudged him gently, careful not to alter his steering. “I take it you remember this one then?” 

“Of course I do,” he moved his hand from the gear shift to hold yours. “You forced the band to play it at our wedding, much to their horror.” 

“It’s not that bad,” you chuckled. 

“You sure? Because I’m fairly certain you’re the only one enjoying themselves whenever it comes on,” he teased. 

“You look like you’re enjoying yourself right now.” 

“Only because you are.” 

He focused back on his driving, still steering one-handed. When you pulled into the driveway of your house, you grabbed your purse and James took his jacket and briefcase and you went around and entered from the back door which you had left unlocked. 

After you got settled, changed into something more comfortable and went to sit on the couch, James came up and handed you a glass of water with a Tylenol. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, sitting next to you. 

“Aside from the headache I’m okay,” you assured him after taking the medication. “Feeling lucky.” 

“Lucky?” he scoffed incredulously. He felt the opposite of lucky and he wasn’t even the sick one. 

“Yeah. Lucky to have you,” you placed the water down on the coffee table before turning in his direction and holding his face in your hands. “Not everyone in my position can say their husband is an oncologist.” 

He nodded his head, “You’re right, they can’t. W-When are we supposed to go in for your first appointment?” 

“Tomorrow. I told him we’d like to start treatment as soon as possible,” you kissed his forehead. “Plus, you can come visit me while you’re working. I’ll be right in your backyard.” 

“You’ve definitely got that right,” he held your wrist and turned his head to press a kiss to your hand. 

You moved so you were laying down with your back against his chest and he wrapped his arms around you and kissed your hair. 

“Jamie?” 

“Mhmm.” 

“Just because I’m trying to stay positive,” you started with a quiet voice, “it doesn’t mean I’m not scared.” 

“I know, sweetheart,” he assured you and ran his hands up and down your arms. 

“Just promise me that even if we’re both scared, you’ll never stop being honest with me. Even if it’s hard and even if it’s looking bad.” 

“Of course. We’re in this together, just like always.” 

His words gave you enough comfort to close your eyes, knowing that with the next little while having many shifts and changes, it would probably be good that you get as much rest as you could. 

—

“Hey, I brought you some food from home for lunch,” James said as he pulled open the sliding door and entered your hospital room. 

“Thanks, but I don’t really have much of an appetite right now,” you admitted. 

“Chemo this morning?” he asked and you nodded. “That’s okay, I’ll just put it here in case you change your mind.” 

“House dropped by to see me,” you said, placing your hands in your lap with raised brows. 

“Oh, now that is surprising. He hates visiting patients.” 

“That’s what I said,” you chuckled, “but he had come to the very rational conclusion that since we were already acquainted and we knew what was wrong with me it was okay to come and say a quick hello.” 

“That’s definitely House,” James nodded. “I hope he didn’t say anything totally off-putting, you know how he is.” 

“It was fine,” you assured him. “He loves you too much to bother me like that.” 

“If it feels like too much to do the treatment here just say the word and we can change hospitals,” James said. “I know there’s lots of people you know wandering around these halls so if at any point you feel uncomfortable just tell me, okay?” 

“I will, but I’d rather be here. It’s close to you and you trust your colleagues, that’s enough for me.” 

“Are you sure? And you’re looking a little feverish, are you hot? And-,” 

“James, please, I’m fine,” you reached out and held his hand. “I love you and I promise I’m okay right now.” 

“You never call me James.” 

“I was trying to put emphasis on what I was saying so you knew I was serious,” you gave him a half smile. 

“You promise to tell me if something feels off? Even now with your appetite, if you feel nauseous we can give you something to help with that.” 

“I promise,” you assured him. “Cross my heart and hope to-,” you stopped, chewing on your words before deciding on just saying. “Cross my heart.” 

“Okay,” he sighed. “I’ll try and let up, but it’s going to be hard.” 

“I know, which is why I appreciate you trying,” you squeezed his hand. 

“My lunch break is almost over. I should probably head back.” 

You could sense he didn’t want to leave, so you motioned for him to come to you so you could give him a kiss to help him get through the rest of the day. 

“You know, you’re still as beautiful as the day I met you,” he smiled at you. 

“The day you met me I was covered head-to-toe in mud and was pissed off like there was no tomorrow,” you laughed. 

“Exactly,” he winked and you rolled your eyes, blowing him a kiss as he walked out of your room. 

James was in decent spirits for the next part of his shift. Even though he was stressed and tired, he found ways to help and connect with his patients along with their worried family members, feeling a new sense of empathy for them and their situation. 

He handled everything as he usually did, but with an extra added care that could only come from personal experience. Every patient was different, some wanted to know every detail and others nothing at all and he did his best to accommodate each one. 

He was speaking with one of the family members later in the day about what the next steps in treatment could look like. In this case the cancer was at an early stage and could be treated by a variety of means as it hadn’t metastasized. 

James was interrupted when he heard a scream of pain coming from across the hall. He would have let someone else deal with it, but he recognized the sound of the voice crying out in hurt. 

“I-I’m so sorry can you excuse me,” he said quickly while running towards your room, seeing you hunched over by your bed, clutching onto your leg while a nurse attended to you and your oncologist ran past James to see what was happening. “What’s going on?” he asked. “What is it?” 

“Looks like DVT,” his colleague said. “We need to get her into an OR to remove the clot.” 

He called for someone to prepare the OR and James quickly rushed to your side, holding onto you while you were still doubled over in pain. His mind was racing, what had changed in the few hours he hadn’t been with you? You were fine before. Was there a cause outside of the chemo? Something that aggravated the situation? 

“God!” you grimaced through gritted teeth, gripping onto your leg as they moved you onto the gurney. “Jamie, it hurts,” you cried. 

“I know,” his hand rested on your forehead, his thumb gently moving back and forth. “I know, honey. They’re giving you something for the pain right now and they’re going to get you to an OR to deal with it.” 

Tears were streaming down your face when they finally injected you with a painkiller and one of the nurses came to say the OR was prepped and they were ready for you to be brought in. James walked next to your bed, his hand in yours until they came past the doors leading to the operating rooms where Cuddy had seen the events unfolding and quickly stepped in, grabbing him before he went any further. 

“Wilson, you can’t go in there,” she said. 

“What do you mean I can’t go in there, I need to-,” 

“She’s your family. You can’t.” 

James blinked a few times before swallowing thickly. Cuddy was right, they couldn’t make an exception for him just because he was a doctor. The procedure would turn out fine and everything would be okay. If only he could play the role of a concerned loved one, but no. He had to go back to work. 

“Take ten,” she said. “Get some water, take a breather.”

James clenched his jaw and nodded his head, moving away from the door and going instead to his office, quickly apologizing to the family member he was speaking to earlier, saying something had come up and he might be a moment. 

When he entered his office and shut the door and squeezed his eyes shut, begging himself not to cry, not when he had to go back to work. Dealing with the cancer treatment when he knew every possible side effect and everything that could go wrong like it was written on the back of his hand was difficult enough, but hearing you in pain, screaming for it to stop almost jolted his heart. 

He took Cuddy’s advice and grabbed a bottle of water, drinking some of it before deciding his best course of action was to get to work, distract himself. 

He went first to finish his conversation then do his rounds before heading down to the clinic before it closed. 

Just as his shift was about to end he heard the sound of his pager go off and he checked it, seeing a message from Cuddy that simply said: 

SHE’S FINE

Allowing him to finally let out a sigh of relief. 

You’d first be in post-op for a day or so recovering from the surgery then they would move you back to your regular room. 

As soon as his shift was over he had a feeling he wouldn’t be going home any time soon, so he searched in his bag for a change of clothes, finding a t-shirt, a sweater, and a pair of jeans and decided to get changed. 

As he walked in the hallway towards post-op he ran into a colleague from the department who was about to make a comment on his attire before he stopped her, 

“I’m off duty. Don’t worry, I’m not turning into House.” 

She nodded her head with a bit of a chuckle before wishing him a good night. 

When he came into your room you were still under anesthesia from the surgery so he pulled up a chair next to your bed and quietly waited for you to wake up.

After the kind of day he’d had, he was finding it hard to keep his eyes open. He felt his head slump and his eyes closed and he couldn’t be bothered to fight the sleep that came. 

Some time later, James could feel a light brush against his arm, pulling him out of his sleep. His eyes blinked open and he could see your arm reaching out for him. 

“Hey,” he rubbed his eyes before leaning forward in his chair, his hand caressing the side of your face. “You’re awake.” 

“That might be a stretch,” you murmured, your voice hoarse. 

“Let me get you some water,” he stood up and grabbed the pitcher and a cup, filling it with water and helping you drink some of it. 

“It’s late, how long have you been here?” you asked, holding his wrist while he came to sit next to you on the bed. 

“Since the end of my shift,” he yawned. 

“Jamie, you have work tomorrow. You should have gone home and gotten some sleep. Or even slept on the couch in your office,” you chastised. 

“And leave you in here alone?” he shook his head. “No way.” 

You moved slightly in the bed, off to the side and carefully turning so you were now lying on your leg that hadn’t been operated on, making just enough room for James to lie down next to you. You patted the empty spot on the bed and he didn’t fight you, kicking off his shoes and lying down with his forehead gently resting against yours and his hand holding your cheek. 

You were still fighting a little against the anesthetic to stay awake and James could see you trying your hardest to keep your eyes open. 

“It’s okay,” he kissed the space between your eyebrows. “Let’s sleep. You’ve got recovering to do and I have work.” 

“Mhmm,” you hummed and let your eyes close, feeling much more comfortable than before now that you were in the embrace of your husband. 

—

While you and James were both grateful the chemo and radiation hadn’t brought on any more complications, it was beginning to get harder to function on a daily basis. Whether it was the battery of tests they performed or the pain and sickness that came along with it and the treatment, it was taking every ounce of energy you had left to not be miserable. 

Unfortunately, James was spread a little thinner and he was miserable. 

You both practically lived at the hospital at this point and he couldn’t stand getting off work only to see that your symptoms from the treatment were getting worse every day. 

“Jamie, I’m sorry I can’t think straight, everything is really foggy right now. You’re going to have to ask him what he told me,” you sighed. “I’ll write it down next time, promise.” 

“Sure, that’s okay,” he held your hand brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “It’s just the chemo, the fog will go away sometime after the treatment is over.” 

“You think we’ll get to that point?” 

“I was trying to be more positive like you,” he teased. “But it might get to that point and it might not. And if it does, it’s because it’s stage 3 there’s a higher chance of relapse.”

“Just means we get to hang out more,” you wiggled your eyebrows and James laughed a little. 

“I don’t know how you do it, honey,” James sighed. “I’d be spinning in circles if I were you. I’d be doing it right now if it weren’t for you.” 

“Just takes a little bit of delusion and a whole lot of denial,” you joked. “And maybe a little bit of worry too.” 

James looked at you curiously and you went on.

“Worry that if I’m miserable then that cute oncologist that keeps visiting me might start to spiral.” 

“Sweetheart,” he whispered. “You don’t have to be strong for me.” 

You were too tired to fight the tears forming in your eyes as you shook your head. 

“If I'm not strong for you, who's gonna do it Jamie? You’re already too busy being strong for me, for all of your patients, for your friends…” 

James leaned in closer to you, clasping your hand in both of his own, pressing a delicate kiss to it. 

“We’re a team. We look after each other,” you stated firmly. “So I’m gonna keep being positive even if this sucks ass because we both need it, okay?”

James nodded his head. 

“Okay, but promise me one thing.” 

You nodded for him to continue. 

“If it sucks a lot and you feel it in here,” he put a hand over your heart. “For the love of God, don’t keep it to yourself. Tell me, we’ll let it suck for a bit and then we can go back to being positive.” 

Your lips trembled a little until you bit down on your lower lip and slowly nodded your head. 

“Maybe it can suck for a bit right now,” you whispered, letting a tear slip from your eye. 

You were quick to wipe it away, but it wasn’t much use as tears silently flowed down your face. The exhaustion, the pain, the uncertainty, it was all getting to you and you just needed James’ permission to let it out. 

James came to sit on the side of your bed from his chair, leaning down and kissing away your tears. Eventually when the tears slowed he kissed your nose before gently playfully biting the tip of it, getting you to look up at him and his ridiculous idea of fun. 

“You look like a rabbit,” you sniffed. 

“Shoot, I was going for a squirrel,” he snapped his finger and you chuckled. “What do you say I do it again and see if I can get it right?” 

“Jamie,” you smiled and placed a hand on his arm, the other wiping the tears from your face. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, always.” 

—

You were grateful for the knock at your sliding door which pulled you away from the hospital food sitting on the tray in front of you. When you looked up you saw one of House’s diagnosticians, Eric Foreman motioning to ask if it was okay for him to come inside. 

You nodded your head and told him to open the door. 

“Hey,” he smiled while entering the room. “I know Wilson is out of town so I figured maybe you could use a little bit of company.” 

“Usually I can survive without him, I think he’s probably worse off, at least I have nice company,” you motioned to the machines monitoring your heart rate and respiration. 

He laughed a little at that before pulling up a chair and sitting next to your bed. 

“He mentioned you don’t really like the food, so I snuck in a little something from outside,” he handed you a wrapped parcel. “Hopefully you find it up to standard.” 

“Thanks, that’s really sweet of you. I was having a hard time imagining how I’m supposed to eat this,” you pointed to the plate in front of you. 

You unwrapped the package and began to eat, in small controlled bites not wanting to aggravate any dormant nausea. 

“So how are you?” Foreman asked. “I mean aside from all this.” 

“Honestly not too bad. I get to see my husband a lot, I have people waiting on me hand and foot, it’s a decent gig being in bed,” you joked. “Although I am exhausted all of the time and find little enjoyment in watching soap operas on such a tiny screen so, really it's a toss up.” 

“Anything we can bring you from home or outside to help?” 

“If I think of anything I’ll let you know,” you nodded. “But company is nice when I have the energy for it. You’re lucky you caught me right after a nap.” 

“I’ll get Cameron and Chase to stop by at some point too. I could also ask House, but he’s not going to listen to me,” he pressed his lips together and you chuckled. 

“No, he marches to the beat of his own drum,” you agreed, “but he’ll come by every once in a while. I can;t decide if his visits are fun, depressing, or maybe it’s just an emotional rollercoaster.” 

“I think his patients would agree with you,” Foreman leaned back in his chair. 

“Speaking of patients, any interesting cases recently you can tell me about?” you asked. 

“Hmm, there was that one a while ago where there was this whole complication with a transplant and organ donation. The transplant committee wouldn’t give the guy a heart because he was in his sixties, and then the procurement team wanted to throw out a heart because it tested positive for Hep. C. Turns out, after House managed to convince the husband to still let his wife’s organs be used, it wasn’t Hep. C. and we were able to treat it and do the transplant.” 

“So you had to diagnose a dead woman in order to save a man’s life?” you asked and Foreman nodded. 

“Definitely one of our more interesting cases.”

There was a comfortable pause where you ate a little more food before coming up with another question to ask. 

“Tell me,” you started. “How’s Jamie when he’s working? I know you don’t work with him directly, but he’s always with House so your paths must intersect a bit.” 

“He’s…” Foreman tried to find the words to describe your husband’s demeanour. “Some days are good and others aren’t, but no one blames him for it.” 

“I figured as much,” you sighed. “Don’t tell him I said this, but if something goes wrong, and something happens to me, I don’t want to leave him like that. We’ve both had really bad luck when it comes to love and I just… I don’t think either one of us would recover from losing the other.”

“It’s really sweet that you think that, but you’re not going to have to find out,” Foreman assured you. “You’re gonna live long enough to get to the point in your relationship where you can read his mind. Telepathy comes after the 20th anniversary, right?” 

You laughed, “Yeah I think so.” 

“Seriously though, even in the off chance that something does happen, Wilson is well-liked here, hell he’s loved. There’s more than a few people that will look after him.”

“Thanks, Foreman. And I sure as hell hope you’re right.” 

—

“God, I missed it here,” you smiled as you walked into your home for the first time since you had begun your intensive treatment. “And it’s clean!” 

“Because I’m never here, there’s probably moldy food in the fridge and dust everywhere,” James chuckled, holding you from behind and pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“So how long do I get to stay here?” you asked. 

“A few days as long as nothing happens and I asked for some time off so I will be here with you for all of it.” 

“Good, because I need your cooking skills. I think the hospital food was taking the nutrients away from my body,” you exaggerated, taking off your shoes and sitting on the couch. 

“I think that’s probably the chemo,” James corrected you and you shook your head. 

“No, it was definitely the food.” 

“Then let’s get something to eat,” he suggested and put his hand out for you to take. You did and walked to the kitchen together, noticing all the bags of groceries on the floor and counter. 

“I thought you said the food was moldy?” 

“The food in the fridge definitely is,” he assured you. “I just thought it might be a good idea to get something edible for you.” 

“You’re very considerate,” you gave him a quick kiss. 

He made you a quick snack to start and you ate together by the counter before you went to your room and laid down on the bed. 

“Jamie you’re gonna have to drag me away from here when we go back,” you moaned into the pillow. “It’s the little things, really,” you sighed. 

“I’m glad you’re comfortable,” he sat down on his side of the bed, looking down at you. “I hated sleeping here without you.” 

“You clearly didn’t do it often because from what I could remember you only slept at home when I begged you to. That’s why the dark circles under your eyes are just as big as mine,” you lifted your hand to brush against his cheekbone. 

“Hopefully we’ll both get a good sleep tonight.” 

It was wishful thinking. After dinner, you watched a movie together in the living room before calling it an early night and getting ready to go to bed. 

For the first few hours, you were both asleep, James with his arm wrapped around your midsection as he spooned you, but sometime around two or three o’clock in the morning James was awoken by your figure shaking next to him. 

He quickly became fully awake and turned on the bedside lamp seeing you still curled up on your side, sweat dripping from your brow while you convulsed. 

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath and grabbed a thermometer, gently waking you and checking your temperature. 

“Jamie, w-what’s going o-on?” 

He didn’t say anything initially, looking at the thermometer and realizing he had to call the ambulance. 

“You have a really bad fever,” he said while running over to the desk and grabbing the phone. “We need to go back to the hospital, right now.”  

He called 911 and quickly explained the situation to them, packing a bag while he did so. He stayed on the line with them while helping you get up and move to the living room. Soon after the ambulance arrived and he was able to hang up and open the door for the paramedics. 

“What’s going on, sir?” one of the paramedics asked. 

“It-It’s my wife, she has cancer a-and she’s got a neutropenic fever, it’s above 100.4. I’m a doctor, and her oncologist is at Princeton-Plainsboro. If you put her on IV antibiotics we can take her there.” 

The paramedics listened, putting you on the gurney and rushing you out of the house. James slung the bag over his shoulder and jumped in the back of the ambulance with you. He let the paramedics do their job, simply holding on tightly to your hand. 

When you arrived at the hospital, they wheeled you away to the ER. He knew they would have to see if an infection caused the fever and get you stable and bring down the fever. 

He took a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose before heading up to his office to drop off the bag and call your oncologist. 

“Hey, Ted… Yeah we just got here… I just woke up and she was shaking like crazy. I-I thought it might have been a seizure at first, but she woke up when I touched her and I checked her temperature…Yeah, I did all that,” he nodded. “I’m sorry it’s so late I just-,” he bit down on his tongue to stop his voice from wavering. “Okay, thanks Ted, I’ll see you soon.” 

He hung up the phone and bent down over his desk, finally letting his emotions overcome him. 

He hated the way his shoulders trembled and shook so violently, only reminding him of you fighting off your fever down in the emergency room. There had only been a few occasions where James had felt like breaking down over the course of your treatment. This was the only time he allowed it to actually happen. 

His own weight soon became too much to hold and he let himself sink down to the ground, his back against his desk. He sat with his knees almost pressed against his chest and his hands covering his face to stifle the sobs that were escaping past his lips. 

James wasn’t sure how long he sat there, but by the end of it his eyes were red and puffy and all of the energy was drained from his face. In any other circumstance, had he been feeling even a little bit upset or sad, he knew you would always be there to comfort him, to hold him and talk through things, and he felt dejected knowing right now you needed him as much as he needed you and all he could do was sit on the sidelines and hold you hand. Four years of undergrad, four years of medical school, another four for residency and all this specialized knowledge on a disease, and yet he wasn’t even able to put it to much use for the person he loved most. 

It took him a little while longer to feel well enough to walk out of his office towards the washrooms to rinse his face with cold water, simultaneously waking him up and reducing the appearance of his puffy eyes. 

He then decided to go find out where they had moved you to and what things were looking like now. He assumed the fever was hopefully under control by this point and they could figure out if an infection had caused it. 

He ran into Ted who was speaking to a nurse, still dressed in casual clothes and without a white coat. James didn’t blame him; it was much too early to be awake. 

Ted excused himself from his conversation and went to go speak with James. 

“She’s stable,” he said, and the tension in James’ shoulders vanished. “It’s looking like it’s just the cancer that caused it, nothing else we have to treat on top of it. Being away from the IV and other things that were helping her body fight off the fever, it was only a matter of time before it kicked in.” 

“And-And um… what’s the course of treatment?” James asked, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“She’s most likely going to have to stay at the hospital until the cancer is gone. We did some recent scans and I think some of the tumor can be removed surgically, it won’t be too high risk when she’s recovered and then the chemo and radiation will have smaller things to target.” 

James ran a hand across his face and nodded, 

“Can I see her?” 

“I had her moved back to her room on the oncology floor and I got the nurses to put in a cot for you. Just maybe wait until the fever’s gone to share the bed with her,” Ted patted his shoulder as he walked away and James patted his hand in return as a thank you. 

When he went back upstairs to your room, he saw you were sound asleep, having probably been minorly sedated so you could get some rest. He pulled the cot next to the hospital bed and thankful he was already in his pyjamas, he slipped under the blanket and let the exhaustion overtake him.

—

“Jamie, you’re frowning again,” you ran your thumb over the crease between his eyebrows, smoothing it out. 

He held your hand along the side of his face, even though it was tight and a little cramped he loved sharing the hospital bed with you. 

“Maybe, I’m just grumpy. Can I be grumpy?” 

“Sure, but just don’t frown,” you yawned. “Your smile is too pretty and if you frown you’ll get wrinkles.” 

“But, if I smile I’ll get smile lines,” he countered, turning his head to kiss your hand. 

“At least we’d know you were happy. Anyone can get wrinkles, you have to smile to get smile lines,” you traced along his nose and down to his lips. 

“But I’m not happy,” James whispered. “That would be a lie.” 

“You’re not happy?” you looked at him with concern. 

“I promise I’m trying, really hard,” he clasped your hand between his warmer ones, “but seeing you like this every single day makes it really difficult to be happy.” 

You chewed on your cheek, “Guess this has been torture for both of us, watching each other fall apart.” 

“Yeah,” James sighed and looked down at the white sheets. 

“You don’t…You don’t regret marrying me… do you?” you said, your voice below a whisper. 

“No,” he responded quickly, pulling you in closer to him. “Not at all.” 

“The truth, James,” you insisted. “You don’t have to protect my feelings.” 

“That is the truth.” 

You didn’t say anything for a few moments trying to stay in the silence, worried of what would come up if you said anything more. 

“You regret it, don’t you?” he frowned softly, but instead of pulling away he squeezed you harder. You gripped onto his sweater, fighting the emotion in your voice,

“I hate how much I’m hurting you.” 

“You can’t control what’s happening,” he pressed a kiss to your temple. 

“But if you hadn’t met me, if we hadn’t fallen in love-,” 

“I would be just as miserable, but for different reasons,” he lifted your chin to look up at him, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “I know you don’t regret loving me and I sure as hell don’t regret loving you.” 

“Then why do you have that look in your eyes every time you see me? Like you can barely look at me.”

James swallowed thickly, the look wasn’t one in absence of love, if anything it was fuelled by that. 

Guilt. 

“I-,” he stopped and took a deep breath. “I should have caught it sooner. You were symptomatic a while before we got you tested for anything and I should have caught it.”

“And if you had caught it earlier we wouldn’t be here right now.” 

“You would have been done with your chemo and radiation by this point, we’d be at home putting all of this behind us, but now even if it goes away…” 

“You’re never going to be able to forget the fact that it could come back.” 

James didn’t even realize he’d begun to cry until you wiped away the tears from under his eyes with your thumbs, gently stroking his cheeks. 

“I don’t think anything I say can help you with what you’re feeling, but not once did I blame you… and I hope you can be kind enough to yourself to come to that same conclusion.” 

“I’m so sorry,” he wept, shaking his head. “I-I didn’t mean to m-make you feel like-,” 

“Jamie, it doesn’t matter anymore,” you placed your forehead against his. “One of the qualities I love most about you is your compassion, your forgiveness, just promise me you’ll try your best to extend the same courtesy to yourself.” 

He nodded his head, his nose pressed against yours and the pillow below you wet with tears on both ends. 

“I love you so much,” he whispered. 

“I love you too.” 

And in the end that’s what you kept coming back to. 

In sickness or in health. 

‘Til death do us part.

@marij0oo

[newtabfics]

"Good For You"

needy bottom astarion x fem wood-elf ranger tav

Summary: Astarion has been feeling particularly needy and it's left him in a state. Good thing Tav is too good to him.

Triggers: Masturbation. Handjob. Lots of praising and gentleness cuz I was feeling a kinda way.

Word Count: >1500

He groaned softly, panting as he tried to focus his mind. His hips stuttered as he stroked himself almost feverishly. "Mmmffuck," He whispered, licking his lips. Astarion had no idea what had happened. Perhaps it was just because he was all over the place mentally and unable to come to terms with everything. He needed space to get comfortable with himself again, but, gods above, it did not change how he felt.

She made him want for the first time. He didn't need to overthink it with her. He didn't need to put on a show. Gods above, Tav made him stay there in that moment that night. He couldn't stop thinking about it.

His hips pumped upward into his fist as he thought of how beautiful she looked under him. Her pale cheeks were flushed as she shyly hid into his neck. The sweet way she kissed the side of his neck unmarred by Cazador. Her hand tangled into his hair as she whimpered her little nickname for him. Her heels dug into his lower back as she clenched tight around him. Her legs locked so tight he could barely pull out of her and–

Astarion grunted in frustration as he glared at the ceiling of his tent. He couldn't quite get there. Nothing could compare to how beautiful she was beneath him, how she felt.

"Astarion?" Her sweet voice trilled in.

His cock twitched and he quickly pulled the blanket over his legs in an attempt to make himself decent. "Y-Yes? What is it?"

Tav's head popped into his tent, her gentle smile vanishing as she saw his flushed face. "You alright?" She asked worriedly.

"Mmhm!" He hummed quickly, eyes darting to study her nervously. "Yes. I'm fine. Quite fine, actually!"

She frowned, her green eyes pursing a slight as she came into the tent. "You sure? You kinda…darted in here. It has been a minute since I've given you blood. Are you okay?" She asked worriedly.

"Ahh... It's alright." He stuttered, trying to get her focus off of his worried demeanor. "I'm fine, really! Everything is alright." He chuckled before he tightened the blanket around his body a bit more.

"No need to worry." He assured.

Tav frowned as she studied him before coming closer to him.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He gulped, watching her every movement closely, his ears perked. "Ah-" He cleared his throat.

"What are you doing?" He wondered, raising an eyebrow. "Why are you just... staring?" He asked cautiously.

She sat close to him. His body practically radiated heat with how frantically his heart was thudding.

"Talk to me," She said firmly, frowning. "Why are you so weird right now?"

His brows furrowed as he tried to think quickly. "Uh..." His mind reeled as he came up with the lamest excuse that was so pitiful he inwardly winced. "I'm tired?" He suggested. "Yes. That's it. I'm... simply tired. Nothing more to it." He sighed, trying to put on a smile.

"Pretty jittery for someone tired," She said, crossing her arms. 

She could see right through him. Of course she could see right through him. She was good at that.

Tav could read him like a book half the time.

He gulped slightly, shifting in his spot. He pulled his blanket tighter around him.

"Hey, you're the one that's making me feel nervous here! Stop staring at me, Tav." He grumbled, pouting.

It was a quick, but failed, attempt to get her off his back. He never called her by her name unless there was something wrong. It was a habit of his.

"Astarion, are you really okay?" She sighed finally, meeting his eyes. "You know we...we're partners so you can always talk to me."

"...I-uh." He stuttered, his face growing redder and redder. "I..."

He looked away, shaking his head quickly. "It's nothing..." He looked back at her. "I swear."

"You…swear?" She asked, squinting at him.

Astarion nodded nervously, heart thudding. 

Oh, how he loathed that this was the woman he fell in love with so desperately as she gripped the blanket and ripped it away suddenly.

"Tav!" He yelped, quickly pulling it back to hide himself as her eyes widened. His face was beet red as she blushed herself and cleared her throat. 

Shame and guilt shot through him like ice as his cock throbbed with need. "What? Will you mock me now?"

"What?" She asked in shock, gaping at his defensiveness. "Astarion, why in the Hells would I mock you for jerking off?"

He stuttered before finally saying, "Because…reasons."

Tav watched him for a long while before smiling and kissing his forehead. "Just tell me next time instead of trying to hide it," She whispered against his skin. "I'll leave you be but Gods above, Astarion, please don't feel shame when you get aroused."

He scowled and leaned into her touch as he pulled the blanket tighter around him. "You're…not angry?"

"I'm not. Honestly, it's kind of a relief to know you're trying to enjoy yourself a bit," She confessed. "Do you need water or anything of the sort?"

He stared at her, cheeks ruddy with his want. "I need you but…"

Tav smiled and moved a bit closer. "May I touch you then?"

His throat tightened before he nodded. He let out a shuddering sigh as her lips pressed against his cheek gently.

"W-What are you…?" He trailed off as she slid behind him. Her lips pressed carefully against his shoulder as she lightly rubbed his waist with one hand, the other grazing along his inner thigh.

His breath caught as he licked his lips, feeling his cock throbbing again. "Darling…" He muttered, watching her hands touching him.

She hushed him sweetly as her nails lightly grazed over his flesh, tickling his inner thigh. "Just relax, love," She said gently as her lips pressed against his neck.

Astarion shuddered at that as she touched him carefully. Her fingers lightly grazed over his cock. She gripped lightly, the tip of her finger rubbing at his leaking tip.

His choked moan came in a raspy wheeze as he writhed in her hold. He rested his head against her shoulder as she carefully adjusted her legs. She was keeping him open, feet planted between his knees and holding his legs apart.

"Oh fucking hells, Tav," He whimpered as she kissed the side of his neck.

"That's it, Starlight," She whispered against his skin and hushed him gently. "Just feel good. I just want you to feel good, okay?"

Astarion nodded frantically as she gripped his length, stroking slowly. Her free hand rested over his chest. It was like she was trying to keep his heart from beating out of his chest as she pumped her hand slowly.

The vampire whimpered and moaned, bucking his hips a slight. He bit his lip and whined. "Darling, please," He begged. "The…The gel."

Tav nodded and gently reached to the vial beside his bed. There was only a little bit left as she bit off the cork and poured it over his length. 

She held him close when he jerked from the cold liquid suddenly touched him. His breath hitching brought a sense of pride to her as she began to stroke him with the gel lathering his length.

"That's it," She whispered into his ear as she kept a steady rhythm. "Just feel good, Starlight."

Astarion let out a hoarse moan as he panted and bucked his hips. He was losing himself in her hand!

"Fu-Fuck," he whined before turning his head and kissing her.

Tav hummed as she kissed him deeply. She swallowed his moan as she cracked her eye open. A smirk played over her lips when his cock twitched in her palm until he finally reached that glorious peak.

She kissed him gently as he murmured curses and shot load after load over her knuckles. Instead of slowing, she moved faster.

"O-Oh fuck! Oh fuck!" He panted weakly, hips twitched as another climax began to build. "Shit, Darling. Fuck, wait. Too much. Too much. Gonna…o-oh gods above," He grunted as he began to pour out another load.

She kept that up, making him sweat and pant. She just stroked and brought him over the edge until he had to wordlessly tap her hand for mercy.

Tav carefully pulled her hand away and kissed his head, nuzzling his neck. "Better?" She whispered, afraid of startling him.

Astarion nodded, shaking still. His nose twitched as he looked to her. "You…enjoyed that?" He asked hoarsely.

She nodded. "Making you feel good is what I like most," She admitted.

He let out a soft breath of a laugh, gulping thickly. "You drive me mad, Darling."

"Isn't that good?" She chuckled, nuzzling him before carefully helping him clean up.

"Tav, you made me come twice from fucking your hand," He panted out, falling back into the bedroll helplessly as she washed her hand with the cloth she used to clean him. "Fucking hells…You drive me insane."

She smiled and adjusted, kissing his forehead. "Is that your way of begging for me to stop?"

He almost glared at her at that. "Don't you dare."

[jenosbliss]

hii there!! can i req different tropes with the dreamies please?

🩶⌇ nct dream ! as different love tropes

pairing. gn!reader x nctdream | genre. fluff | wc. 1.5k | warnings. none

a/n. happy new year guys!! went a little personal on Jaemin's one, also if you want a bigger fic for any of the members with these tropes pls let me know 💖

MARK. childhood friends to lovers

Mark was the constant in your life just as you were in his. He was the one to pull you in when you experienced your first heartbreak or needed a shoulder to weep on, to rely on, to seek warmth and comfort in. He was the one to cheer you on for exams, to celebrate your achievements and your first relationship. He had been there all along. Hence, when he unexpectedly blurted out, "Do you think we would make a good couple?" while snuggling inside the cover with you one quiet night. You weren't too shocked by it because, in all honesty, you both knew—hell, everyone knew—that you loved one another more than simply as friends. In fact, your friends called you both ‘goners.’ “Is this your subtle way of asking me out?” he giggled trying to hide his oh not so obvious blush. “I mean like you know what I mean c’mon dude… will you be my girlfriend?” "Have I ever said no to you?" you drew nearer to him beneath the cover. “Sure.”

RENJUN. secret admirer

It started recently when small notes began to appear inside your locker and on your desk. At first you ignored them thinking it was some sort of a sick prank because who in their right mind will secretly admire you? Well, Renjun does, and ever since the day he saw you having your own little concert in the classroom after everyone had left, he has never been as certain about someone as he was about you. At first he left notes on a weekly basis afraid you might not like them but when he saw you smiling and saving all his notes he started leaving a dozen of them on a daily basis. He was going crazy because he had so much he wanted to tell you, but there was not enough room on a piece of paper. However, you were driving yourself crazy trying to identify this admirer of yours. This madness continued for a month until one day Renjun himself stood in front of your locker holding a piece of paper, "Here's your note, love.”

JENO. fake dating

You didn’t consider Jeno a total stranger, you have run into him quite a handful of times in the campus cafe and have your fair share of shy glances, very small talks and fleeting smiles. One day your ex followed you to the cafe, at first, he was begging for forgiveness but soon turned hostile, demanding a reason why you don’t want to be with him. Fearing he might do something bad; your eyes fell upon Jeno who just entered the cafe, a sweet smile playing on his lips when he noticed you. Could you have come up with a better response? Maybe but at that moment you couldn’t think of anything else. You approached him begging “Hi, I’m really sorry to put you in this mess but can you please, please pretend to be my boyfriend? My ex there-” at an instant Jeno stood up, grabbing your hand softly in his “Where is that jerk? Did he hurt you?” And with this incident you both started fake dating which soon turned real without either of you realizing.

HAECHAN. sunshine x grumpy

Everyone around you referred to you and Haechan as the opposite attracts couple, well to be very honest you didn’t consider yourself grumpy or mean, you just didn’t prefer the human race and any interaction with them of course except him. He was the literal definition of sunshine for you, the one who lightened you up, the one with whom you can leave your so-called grumpy side aside and be a little ray of his sunshine. Haechan found you in the darkest phase of your life when everyone you knew or had trusted turned their back on you, leaving you to cry alone in a dark corner. It was then when he pulled you into his embrace, radiating a warmth that felt safe and something like home, he became that last ray of hope and light that brightened you up once again. “How can you be this happy this early in the morning?” you grumbled seeing him dance while cooking in the kitchen. Ignoring your comment, he walked around the counter and extended his hand “Will you dance with me? Please, sunshine please!” rolling your eyes at his silly actions you still took his hand as he pulled you in for a little silly dance.

JAEMIN. first love

Love was a scary word for you, the reason you never experienced it before was because you wanted it to be perfect. You wanted to remember your first love with a smile on your face and not an experience which you would want to forget. You have had crushes and a few situationships and an experience of a boy you thought was definitely the one to not reciprocate your feelings when you confessed to him before. But that was it, after the last incident years ago you gave up on the idea of love, thinking it was for the pinterest girlies, those perfect ones who deserved a perfect love. But the day Jaemin came to you on that bus ride asking if can take the empty seat next to yours, the perception of love you had changed. He became your first and perfect love, he showed you everyone is worthy of love, he accepted all your flaws, he cared for you like no one has ever done –babying you included– he never shied away from confessing his love and gratitude for you, he cherished you with every breath he took. You could cry to him, with him, you could laugh with him until your stomach hurts, you could gossip with him, and you could cherish the quietness with him. He was perfect and he was yours, your first love. “OMG y/n I saw this flower growing out of the sidewalk, it reminded me of you princess.”

CHENLE. academic rivals

Chenle didn’t give a shit about studies or grades, if you ask his parents or friends, they haven’t seen so many ‘A+’ on his tests till now. It’s not like he was poor in his studies, it's just that he didn't have a reason to study. Why study if he could just get a scholarship through basketball? It was useless according to him until he met you in high school, the top student in the class if not the school. Was it love at first sight? Nah it was love at first fight for him when he accidentally hit you with the basketball during gym class and you poured a bottle of water on him as revenge (it was freezing cold that day). After that, the more he tried to approach you the more you avoided him. It was the first time when he wanted something, but he couldn't have it right away, and this ignited a fire in him. So, the only way to reach you now was through academics, and boy, he loved pushing your buttons, so he decided to compete with you… fiercely and that’s how after a few months of this rivalry you found yourself pinned against the bookshelf by him in a corner of the library. “Everything is just a competition for you… isn’t it?” you felt his breath on your face “Isn’t it for you, too?” you spat back, not breaking eye contact. “No, I did this because I am in fucking love with you.”

JISUNG. brother's best friend

You met Jisung when you were five and he was seven, he brought Sungchan back home after he sprained his ankle during the game of soccer. You remember watching him from afar, while he was talking to your mother about Sungchan’s injury when he looked at you and passed a smile. Since then, not a day passes by when you don’t think of him. At seven you had childishly asked him to marry you which he laughed at first but agreed later, promising to do so when you grow older. At fifteen he scared off a boy who kissed you on the cheek in school, saying things like you are too young for dating and you can’t date just any boy. That day, instead of crying that your first relationship ended before it could even start, you were happy, it was the day you started liking Jisung. At seventeen you confessed your feelings to him when he said the words that broke your small, fragile heart in pieces, he said you were like a little sister to him. At twenty-two he saw you going out with a man when he arrived at your apartment to celebrate your birthday. He felt something he shouldn’t have, he felt jealous, a burning rage and it was that moment that he knew he had fallen head over heels for you. “Don’t date him.” you scoffed hearing his authoritative tone. “And who are you to say that? I’m not fifteen anymore. It’s my life I can date whoever I want… you’re not my real brother.” he grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him “Yes I’m not your brother… so date me instead.”

navigation.

masterlist. nct dream | nct 127 | wayv

[mncxbe]

Touch♡

𝑷𝑴 𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: no plot just vibes/ fluff♡

Contenxt; you're Dazai's partner and he walks you home after a mission♡ saw this reel on instagram and I needed to write this (https://www.instagram.com/reel/CwzpZnjp_n-/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==)

Streetlights glinting off the hoods of parked cars; pearls of rain pouring from the dark clouds above, skipping on the wet pavement. A chill ran down your body, causing you to shiver as you gripped the handle of your umbrella tighter.

It wasn't exactly cold. The last vestiges of summer still met the eye: fresh green leaves with crisp, paper brown edges, watermelon and bundles of puffy peaches in windowshops and heat radiating off the busy boulevards; but still, the glacial presence of your partner beside you was like a wintery breeze.

"Can't you walk a bit faster?" he asked in his usual cold tone, his words sounding more like an order than a mere inquiry.

"My boots are killing me. So no"

Gazing around the empty streets in attempt to avoid his gaze, you instinctively reached for the pack of cigarettes nestled in the pocket of your coat; comforting, familiar.

"Then why are you wearing them?" he pressed.

You procured a cigarette from the crumpled box and held it to your lips, lighting it up with a clipper. The little flame flickered in the light wind; a kaleidoscope of red, burnt orange and summer yellow that shone in the darkness that enveloped the two of you.

"Well, they suit me well don't you think? What doesn't a girl do to feel pretty?"

"That's stupid, really" he sighed, shaking his head lightly.

Sulkily chewing the filter of the menthol cigarettes, your gaze slid to Dazai. His dark curls, frizzy from the humid air, fell lightly around his face; you could see the white bandage wrapped around his eye.

In the background, lights from cars and traffic lights seemed distorted, elongated and washed out, hazily flashing green and red. After a moment of silence you finally spoke up again:

"Why do you wear that"

"What?" he asked then sighed when you pointed at his bandage. "Why not really? I think it suits me well. After all, what doesn't a boy do to feel pretty?" he mocked.

A light chuckle rolled off your lips as you snaked your arm under his, trying to shelter yourself from the heavy rain.

"Don't go turning my words against me, Osamu."

Dazai tensed under your touch. After all this time he still wasn't used to it and he suspected he never will be.

He only nodded in response, thin brows knitting as his eyes watched the fat raindrops fall in puddles of technicolor.

You knew Dazai has never been the type to talk unless he had something to say and you found solace in his cold demeanor. Other people did their best to avoid him- the vicious detective of the Mafia, the boss's favourite lap dog or whatever others called him- but the same things that pushed most people away drew you to him.

You were neither friends nor enemies, but in the end there was no need to define your relationship. Being with him simply felt right, like two pieces of a puzzle being connected.

And in a way Dazai felt the same. He found comfort in your vibrance, in learning all your little habits, like the way you'd bite down your thumb when you were deep in thought, how you'd roll the filter of your flavoured cigarettes between two slender fingers when you were bored or hum the exact same tune after missions.

You were everything he wasn't: high-spirited, gentle, tender, mindful of everyone's needs and awfully alive; madly in love with every little aspect of the world and beyond all, kind. Just like now you were kind enough to share your umbrella with him so that his bandages wouldn't get soaked by the rain.

As you walked down the damp streets of your neighbourhood, rain pouring from high above, all Dazai could think was how right your arm felt around his. How close you were. A faint memory of you reciting a poem a few weeks ago resurfaced in his mind; you always said that rain brings people closer, an idea he dismissed without a moment of though. But now he couldn't deny how right you were. You felt closer than ever, enveloped in translucent drops in this bubble of silence the two of you shared.

When you finally reached the front of your apartment building he stepped under the arcade, waiting for you to find your keys.

"Thanks for walking me home" you said mindlessly as you unlocked the door to your apartment.

"No problem. Also here you go..." he began, attempting to close the umbrella but you quickly motioned him to stop.

"Nah you can keep it. You can give it to me tomorrow ok?"

He simply nodded, his eyes meeting your as you raised on your tip-toes to place a faint kiss to his cheek. As you pulled away your fingetips traced the edges of his bandage, ice cold against his skin.

"If you really wanna know you do look good with it, but I prefer you without it." you stated, lips stretching into a warm smile.

Dazai nodded again, his hand coming to rest above your own, cupping his face. The two of you stood like this for a few moments before you eventually pulled away.

"I better go now, it's getting late. See you tomorrow tho."

With that and a light-hearted smile you entered your apartment and shut the door behind, leaving Dazai all alone.

Holding the umbrella above his frame he began walking towards his place. The rain showed no sign of stopping.

As he passed by an overflowing trash can his hand reached for the back of his head and he pulled the patch off his head, tossing it in the bin with a waggish huff before walking away.

[another-lost-mc]

LEVIATHAN x gn!Reader 0.6k Words | NSFW | Silly Fluff & Kissing -> Prompt: Kissing in the Rain [ obey me! masterlist ]

There’s a lot of things you would gladly do for Levi if he asked you to. You know him well enough by now that you try to anticipate what he wants so he doesn’t have to ask for things—being forward is still something he struggles with.

That’s why when he tugs your hand after class and leads you to a random tree in the pouring rain, you find it difficult to refuse, no matter how odd it seems. Your RAD uniforms are soaked, but he doesn't seem to care in the slightest. He tosses his bag against the tree trunk before he starts climbing up to one of the higher branches.

“Levi?” you called to him, and you sounded as nervous as you felt. “What’s going on?” There's no way you're climbing up the tree too, if that's what he's thinking.

Other than a brief glance in your direction, he doesn't answer because he's too focused on finding his footing. He steps gingerly onto one of the branches and sits down. He shifts into his true form and curls his tail around the tree branch to steady himself. He looks excited before he suddenly swings upside down, and his knees and tail keep him anchored so he doesn't slip. He waves you over until you're standing in front of him, almost face-to-face.

He stares at you expectantly, and something clicks into place when you try to remember why this seems so familiar.

Three weeks ago…

“That can’t be comfortable. Wouldn’t the water go up his nose?”

“Yes, but real life physics aside, this was an iconic movie moment when I was growing up! I thought it was really romantic the first time I saw it.”

“Pfft, humans are weird, you know that?”

“I’ll show you weird!”

“Hey, that tickles! Okay, okay, fine, I give up—!”

“Wait, are you doing this because of the movie?” you ask him incredulously.

He blinks at you like the answer is obvious, because it is obvious; he’s the only person you know that would even think of trying to recreate an awkward kiss from a superhero movie for you.

“You said it was romantic,” he says simply, gesturing to the tree. “And I was curious about the mechanics of it,” then he adds softly, “and how it would feel.”

(He doesn’t admit how long it took to find a tree with branches at the correct height to do this. Even after he found the right tree, he still didn’t have the nerve to ask you to come here on either of the days it rained, prior to today.)

“Alright, one kiss, and then you’re climbing down,” you insist. You cupped his chilly, rain-soaked cheeks in your hands; his cheeks dimple when he smiles and nods.

(Later when you're both rightside-up and in a warm bath, you'll tell him how much you appreciate him doing these sweet, silly things for you.).

You’ve shared many kisses with Levi, but none have felt like this. The kiss feels awkward at first, and you wonder why you ever thought that silly Hollywood kiss could work in real life. Your mouths don’t slot together perfectly and you bump his nose with your chin.

You try to pull back and apologize, but one of his hands curls around the back of your head and keeps you in place. He hums into the kiss, and he surprises you again when he’s the one moving his lips against you with a bit more urgency, and he flicks his tongue at the seam of your mouth. The kiss still isn’t perfect, but the new sensations feel pleasant in their own way.

When he lets his hand slip away from the back of your neck, the kiss ends abruptly. There’s heat churning inside your belly now, and the cool rain soaking your clothes offers no relief.

Levi seems to sense the love and lust radiating from you, and he’s so proud that he made you feel that way that it makes the effort more than worthwhile. Within an instant, he pulls himself into a sitting position on the branch so he can hop down from the tree safely.

He picks up his bag quickly and holds out his hand to you. There's a fiery gleam in his eyes that promises a continuation of what he started in the warm, dry privacy of his bedroom.