#there's another trigger to tell him about.

[orellazalonia]

Wherever You Are, I’ll Stay

Summary: You are a stealth-based Avenger with the ability to teleport, often the one pulling teammates out of danger. However, when you’re injured on a mission one day, you’re found by Bucky, panicking as he tells you that you could’ve escaped. You admit you stayed because you couldn’t leave him behind. (Bucky Barnes x Avengers!reader)

Disclaimer: Reader has the ability to teleport.

Word Count: 1.6k+

A/N: We are so back with a super powered reader! Ignore that it’s been a day or two. It feels like forever to me lol. Happy reading!

Main Masterlist | Whispers of the Gifted Masterlist

You were the teleporting specialist on the team. A living escape route, as Tony once put it, even though you hated the way it made you sound like a tool instead of a person. Your powers weren’t eye-catching like Wanda’s or devastating like Thor’s, but they were precise, fast, and life-saving. You could vanish in the blink of an eye and reappear on the other side of a locked compound without so much as triggering a motion sensor.

What made your ability rare wasn’t just that you could teleport. In fact, plenty of enhanced individuals could, in theory. But the level of control you had was what made you stand out. You could take others with you. You could land in tight quarters without crashing into walls. You could sense coordinates by memory, not just by sight. And most importantly, you could stay calm under pressure, until recently.

Lately, your powers had started to falter under stress. It didn’t happen all the time, but it was enough to plant a seed of doubt in your mind that stayed long enough to hesitate.

You hadn’t told Bucky.

You weren’t exactly sure why. Maybe because he looked at you like you were the one person on the team he didn’t have to worry about. You were competent, quiet, and observant. When missions went to hell, you were the person he looked to and the one he trusted to get everyone out. You didn’t want to shatter that image. You didn’t want him to look at you differently.

Especially not when things between you had started to… shift.

It hadn’t happened in an instant. It was in the small things, the slow things. Like the way he stood a little closer when debriefings dragged too long. The way he always offered an extra water bottle during training without asking if you needed it. Or maybe it was the way his fingers brushed your shoulder when passing behind you, like he couldn’t help needing a point of contact.

You hadn’t talked about it and you didn’t need to. It was present in the silence, in the weight of his glances, and in the softness of his voice when he said your name. A voice so different from the clipped tone he used with everyone else.

You’d die for Bucky Barnes.

But more than that, you’d stay alive for him too.

One mission you were given was intel extraction from a dormant Hydra site outside Budapest. It was expected to have low resistance and a swift completion. You’d done dozens of missions like this, but something had felt off the moment you landed. It was too quiet, too clean. Bucky had gone to secure the east corridor while you took the west.

Then the ambush hit.

You’d fought back, ducking and teleporting rapidly, as you disabled guards as they came. But there were more of them than you had anticipated, and one of them managed to clip you. A messy shot to the side. It wasn’t fatal, but it was deep. And worse, it shook your focus.

The pain bloomed like fire in your ribs, radiating outward. You tried to port, but your vision blurred, your body trembled, and your power slipped from your grasp like sand through your fingers. You blinked out but not far enough. Just into another corner of a nearby room, a couple feet away, where you collapsed behind a half-toppled server bank.

You could’ve tried again. You could’ve forced it. But something in you wouldn’t let go of one thought:

Bucky’s still in the building.

You didn’t know where. You didn’t know if he was safe or had been ambushed too. You didn’t care that your side was soaked with blood, or that your head throbbed from slamming against the wall when you landed wrong.

You weren’t leaving without him, even if it killed you.

Your breathing had grown shallow by the time Bucky found you. You weren’t sure how long you’d been lying there, staring up at the flickering ceiling lights, but the moment the door slammed open with a crash of metal and rage, you knew it was him. You always knew.

“Hey- hey!” His voice was rough with panic, feet pounding across the broken floor until he dropped to his knees beside you. “You're alive-! Thank god, you're alive.”

You opened your eyes, barely. “I said I’d be,” You rasped, the words sticking to your tongue.

Bucky’s hands hovered over you, uncertain and frustrated. He was scanning for wounds, piecing together what had happened. “You're hit.” His voice dropped, the softness undercut by fury. “Why didn’t you teleport out of here?”

You winced, not from the pain, but from the question. “Tried,” You whispered. “Wasn’t focused, too much adrenaline… too much noise.”

“Still,” He snapped. “Still… you could’ve gotten out. That’s what you’re supposed to do. That’s what you always do.”

You looked at him, gaze resting onto his worried expression. And for a moment, he didn’t see the blood or the wound or the mission. He saw you. Pale, exhausted, stubborn, and still here.

“I didn’t want to leave you behind,” You admitted. The truth tasted heavier than blood.

Bucky’s mouth opened, then closed. He shook his head with a shaky breath. “You’re out of your mind,” He muttered.

You smiled weakly. “You’re one to talk.”

His hands finally stopped trembling enough to press against your wound in a gentle but firm way. “You could’ve died,” He reminded you again, his voice cracking. “I could’ve walked into this room and found your body. You ever think about that?”

You let your eyes fall shut for a moment. “I thought about how I’d rather die with you than live not knowing what happened to you.”

The silence was thick. Bucky didn’t speak for a moment, but when he did, his voice was low and nearly broken.

“You really are out of your mind,” He repeated, but softer now. “And I don’t think I’ve ever loved someone more because of it.”

Your eyes fluttered open. “That a confession, Barnes?”

He exhaled a laugh, but it was tight, like it hurt. “Damn right it is.”

Carefully, he pulled you into his arms, supporting your weight like it was nothing, like it was everything. You felt the metal of his arm against your back, cold and reassuring. The other arm was warm where it cradled your legs. You didn’t protest to either.

“You’re going to the med bay,” He said. “Then we’re having a long talk about you not being a damn martyr.”

You rested your head against his shoulder, eyes heavy. “I’m not a martyr.”

“Then stop acting like one.”

There was a pause before you murmured, “You would’ve done the same for me.”

“Doesn’t mean I want you doing it for me.”

Outside, the quinjet engines roared to life. The rest of the team was waiting.

But for now, in the middle of that wrecked Hydra facility, with dust still hanging in the air and blood soaking into Bucky’s shirt, it was just the two of you.

And you were both alive. Together.

-

The med bay was silent, dimmed for your recovery. The overhead lights were off, replaced by a single low lamp that cast long shadows across the room. The hum of machinery filled the silence with monitor beeps, IV drips, and the occasional hiss of an oxygen line. Stark tech kept everything sterile and efficient.

You hated it.

Not because of the pain, that had dulled into something manageable, but because you hated stillness. When you were still, you had time to think. And now that the mission was over, you couldn’t stop replaying it. The moment you failed to teleport. The cold bloom of panic. The blood. The look on Bucky’s face when he found you like the world had nearly ended.

You stared at the ceiling trying not to think about it, when the door hissed open quietly. You didn’t have to look to know it was him.

“You’re supposed to be asleep,” Bucky said, voice low, teasing in a way that didn’t quite mask the worry.

“I was. For a while,” You murmured. “You still pacing outside?”

He huffed. “How’d you know?”

“You always pace when you’re trying not to panic.”

Bucky stepped closer, the soft tread of his boots grounding. When he reached your bedside, he didn’t sit right away. Just stood there, arms crossed, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to be here even though he’d barely left your side since you got back.

“I’m fine, Buck,” You reassured him softly.

“You’re not,” He finally lowered himself into the chair next to you. “You were bleeding out and couldn’t get out. That’s not fine.”

You hesitated. “It’s not the first time my powers have… flickered.”

His jaw tightened. “How long?”

“Couple months but only under stress. Usually I push through it.”

He was quiet for a long time before finally speaking, “You should’ve told me.”

“I didn’t want to be seen as a liability.”

His hand moved, not quickly but with intent. His fingers brushed your wrist, grounding you. “You’re not a liability. You’re you. And if something’s wrong, we fix it together.”

You blinked, throat tightening unexpectedly. “I didn’t want to lose your trust in me.”

“You didn’t,” He said. “You scared the hell out of me, but you didn’t lose anything.”

You let that sit between you for a moment before you whispered, “You said you loved me.”

He didn’t flinch and he didn’t deflect.

“I meant it.” He stated.

You turned your head to meet his eyes. “I love you too, you know.”

Bucky leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against yours. His voice was barely above a whisper.

“I know. I’ve known.”

You reached up, fingers threading through his as you held each other’s hands like none of you ever wanted to let go. “Stay?”

He nodded once. “Always.”

[yallternitive]

Kerosene

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: physical, emotional abuse from a past relationship. If this triggers you, read at your own risk.

Summary: Your work for freshman congressman Bucky Barnes as his secretary. You’ve always kept to yourself, to the degree of making Mr. Barnes suspicious.

Work had started like any old day. Grabbed your coffee at the local coffee shop just down the street from your bosses office. While there, you picked up one for him too, though he never asked for one, he always appreciated it. Today they also had a new plum blueberry pastry they were trying out, so you bought two of those. One for you, one for your him.

It was a quiet morning, but that never stopped you from looking over your shoulder, you could never be too careful.

Making your way into your office, you were early. Lights still off and window blinds still drawn shut. You flicked on all the lights and opened the blinds, it was partly cloudy with a 50% chance of rain. You almost hoped it did.

“You’re early today, (Y/N).” You nearly jump out of your definitelytootall stilettos, turning to look at the one responsible for scaring the wits out of you. So much for always looking over your shoulder.

“Mr. Barnes! You nearly made me spill my coffee!” He just smiles softly, walking up to take both cups from you and placing them on the table.

“Good thing yours was cold then.” You just roll your eyes. “And how many times do I have to tell you to call me Bucky.” You hold your hands up in surrender.

“Sorry, Bucky. Never had a superior tell me to call them their government name let alone a nickname.” You smile softly while making eye contact.

“I understand, but don’t call me your superior. Makes me feel gross….and old.” He takes a seat at his desk and takes a sip of his coffee, noticing the pastry placed neatly on his desk, something you had managed to do before he scared the crap out of you. “What’s this?” He asks, looking at it like it might be poison. You chuckle and take a bite of yours.

“I got it for you today at the coffee shop. It was something new they were trying and I thought it both looked and smelled delicious. Plum and blueberry. I hope they add it to their permanent menu.” He raises an eyebrow and takes a decent bite out of it. His eyes nearly roll into the back of his head.

“I’m not usually one for sweets, but this is delicious.” He takes another bite before a sip of his coffee. “Thank you, (Y/N). You always know how to take care of me. Truly I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He smiles and you just laugh.

“Probably starve.” He shakes his head with a smirk.

“I know how to eat when I’m hungry.”

“Right, not like you haven’t been hungry for 8 hours at that point, cranky and blood sugar plummeting, old man.” The way he looks at you has you slightly concerned you’ve gone too far. You’ve worked with Bucky for a year now and have always had sweet playful banter back and forth. Every time you think you go too far he always makes you laugh.

“Damn, doll. Sounds like you didn’t just wake up on the wrong side of the bed you plum fell off of it.” You roll your eyes and just laugh.

“I’m kidding I’m kidding. We have a big day today, quite a few meetings and hearings happening in the next few days.” He sits at his desk and sighs, very much looking like he doesn’t even know where to begin. He usually didn’t, but that’s what he has a secretary for. You always kept him on track.

***

A few days had passed.

To say you were afraid to leave the house would be an understatement.

You’d left home in Louisiana about a year and a half ago, the only place that seemed safe enough to go at that moment was DC, you had family there but unfortunately you should have known that would have been the first place he would have looked. You started looking for a place to work, hoping for a place that would be able to help you should you ever need it. A “shoot first ask questions later” type of place. Police department, fire station, anything to make him question if you were even worth it anymore.

You settled for a government building, but you could have never had guess just how lucky you’d get. To work with the one and only Winter Soldier. An Avenger in his own right. You knew you’d have to tell him someday. You just hoped it would be because many years had passed and you didn’t fear for your safety anymore. You never wanted it to be because you were in danger.

“Doll?”

You nearly jump out of your skin, after having been frantically pressing the ‘up’ on the elevator button repeatedly. You knew immediately it was Bucky, no one ever called you ‘doll’ before, it was only ever him. And it seemed to be a nickname he reserved only for you.

You adjusted your sunglasses, pressing them tight against your nose.

“Oh-Bu-Bucky. You scared me.” You chuckled nervously, looking down.

That wasn’t you. No quick retort. No sly roll of the eye. Not that adorable side smirk he lived for, secretly of course.

Bucky’s face drops. His position becomes erect. His eyes sharpen, you swear he just grew about 2 inches in height.

“What’s wrong?” He asks intensely, staring down into your soul you know you couldn’t lie to him if you tried.

“I-I’m scared.” You whimper, just as the elevator door behind you dings. Bucky reaches out and gently places his hands on your shoulders, walking you backwards and stepping into the elevator himself. He pressed the button ‘5’ without even turning look at the wall, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Tell me what happened. Who did this to you.” His breath smells like mint and tobacco, it’s a comforting element.

“Bucky I…I ran away from home. My fiancé…he, he used to abuse me. I-I couldn’t take it anymore. He was gonna kill me. I-I left and came to the only place I could think of. My-my aunt and cousins live here and I-i didn’t even think that he’d look here first and I-I’m I’m so stupid I should have kno-“

“Shhh doll. Hey. Come on now. Don’t say that. You are not stupid. You are never stupid. You did it. You got out. You found me. I will never. NEVER let anyone lay their hand on you again. I swear to you. I will protect you.” He cups your face and lets you fall into him, sobbing uncontrollably.

“It’s alright Doll, hey sweetheart you’re alright. I’m here. We’ll get you sorted out. You can come live with me until you are safe. I promise.”

You have Bucky everything he’d need to find your ex, also named James.

“Of course he is.” He rolls his eyes.

“You’re Bucky. I’ve never looked at you and saw him. Your name doesn’t scare me.” He smiles and tucks your hair behind your ear.

“I will spend my life protecting you.”

You knew this was going to be an interesting period of time, from coworkers to roommates. You knew James only had to show himself, and it wouldn’t take him long to reappear.

***

This will be a multi part series!

[moluvies]

time ꔛ armin arlert x f!reader

a/n: first time writing straight smut i fear and it's also not proofread😿🙏‼️

words: 4.6k

cw: reader with fem anatomy, soldier!reader, friends to lovers, takes place a bit before s4, SMUT!!, pinv sex, fingering, confessions, MDNI !

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

"Hey, you're doing fine. Seriously," Armin said, hoping to calm your nerves as you practiced aiming at the cans off in the distance.

"I'm missing everything," you sighed in frustration, placing the end of the rifle on the ground in front of you. "How is it possible I even graduated from the 104th when I can't even aim?"

"You saw Connie yesterday, right?" Armin pointed out with a small smile.

"Yeah, but he eventually gets the hang of everything." You felt utterly defeated. For the past 3 days you were practicing with guns, the anti-Marleyan refugees supplying them and Commander Hange encouraging you all to find the time to practice with them. After all, now the battle wasn’t simply exclusive to fighting titans.

Armin had been sitting with you at the unofficial shooting range for nearly an hour now, and you've successfully knocked a whopping 5 cans so far.

You go on to miss another, causing you to sigh again dramatically. Armin stands, chuckling more to himself as he steps closer to you. "You're overthinking it," he states simply. You ignore him, shutting one eye as you aim. Armin covers his ears before you pull the trigger, grazing the next can with the bullet but not fully penetrating it.

At that point, you couldn't even sigh. It was getting ridiculous and quite frankly super annoying. Titans, whatever. They were big - a big, open target that was pretty much impossible to miss. Cans were another thing entirely, and you couldn't imagine being in a scenario where you were obligated to shoot at a moving, living being.

Armin takes one look at your pouting face and grins, trying to hold back a laugh in order to not make you feel worse than you already were. "Just relax," he says gently, reaching out and adjusting the posture of your shoulders before pulling away. "Don't squeeze the trigger too hard, either," he adds, covering his ears in preparation for your next shot.

You take a deep breath in, trying to relax your mind and body, before you pull the trigger. And what do you know? You still missed.

It took everything in you to not crash onto the ground and throw a tantrum, but your reputation would be in shambles if Armin saw. Not that he'd tell anyone, but it still took a lot of strength to hold yourself together and not completely crash out.

"It's okay," he laughs, taking the rifle from your hands. "Just give it time."

"What if I don't have enough time?" You ask, taking a few strides to the table to pick up a canteen of water.

He hadn't thought about it lately, but it all was dawning on him that time was very limited now. It could happen in an instant that something could change for the worst. With the knowledge of Marley and the impending war between the nation and your little island, it was tough to stay laid-back or even think of time as something unlimited. As a child, it was so easy to imagine time as something that never ran out. Here in the current situation, though, that wasn't really an option.

"I get what you mean," Armin finally replied, the silence thick between you two.

It seemed you both thought of things you haven't done yet, seen yet, or even said yet. And that feeling was nauseating, causing your own heart to swell and your mind swim with the thoughts of things you'd do if you had all the time in the world.

But you didn't. And that realization was panic-inducing, to say the least.

"Dinner's ready! Unless you two plan on starving out here!" The voice of Jean provided a momentary distraction, allowing you both to move on from that conversation.

You wait for Armin to start moving towards the mess hall first, then you fall into a stride beside him. "Well, if time's running out I better start hitting those stupid cans," you joke, making Armin let out a laugh.

ꔛ

The evening went on relatively normally after that. You sat with your usual friends at dinner and hung out near the training grounds for a bit before you all eventually decided to call it a night one by one.

You sat in your room at the barracks alone, your rank granting you a separate bedroom (which was just implemented largely due to all the new buildings seeming to sprout up all over Paradis). The setup was similar to a dorm, with a small cubic room to sleep in but shared bathrooms and shower spaces. It was nice and definitely an improvement to being forced to listen to Sasha's snoring every night.

A soft knock on the door made you perk your head up from the book you were reading. You stood up and walked over, only to be greeted by Armin standing on the other side.

"Hey," you said with a smile, "can't sleep?"

Armin, a grin instantly tugging at his lips at the sight of you in your pajamas, nodded in response. "Yeah. I have been staying up pretty late, though, recently," he added the last part almost shyly, as if to justify being up at the late hour.

You step out of the way after opening your door wider, allowing Armin to take a few strides inside. Your dorm was equipped with all the things a soldier might need to pass the time. A bookshelf next to your small bed and a desk in the corner with papers scattered along the surface. A dim lantern gave the room a warm glow and a cozy feeling, along with the dainty curtains that covered the window that were thin and soft but nice for the warming weather.

"I was just reading," you say, shutting the door. "Sometimes I miss the training days where all of us girls would stay up late talking, but also I could go without a lot of things from then."

Armin laughed, taking a seat on your bed and eyeing the book you were reading previously. "You're telling me. The boys' barracks were always full of surprises, often not good ones," he replied.

You dropped next to him, letting the silence begin to stretch and envelope around you two before Armin cleared his throat.

"Listen," he started, head turning toward you but eyes not meeting yours as if he was nervous. "I was thinking a lot about our conversation earlier," he admitted. "About... time. And it kind of scared me a bit, if I'm being honest."

You nodded, understanding what he was talking about. "I know, me too," you replied. "Who knows what'll even happen tomorrow, let alone years into the future? It's scary."

"Yeah," he agreed. "It got me thinking about things I put off doing because I assumed I'd have the opportunity to do them later. I always assumed these were things I would always have time for, but that's just not the case. With the lives we live, as Eldians and as soldiers, it's tough to say if we'll have time for anything."

The words hung in the air between you, carrying the weight of a truth both of you had been avoiding. You nodded slowly, understanding exactly what Armin meant.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is..." he hesitated, his voice faltering slightly like he was holding back. He paused, taking a deep breath as he finally turned to meet your gaze. His blue eyes, usually so calm and kind, were now swimming with a mix of fear and determination. "I'm done wasting time."

You blinked, momentarily stunned by the look in his eyes. "What do you mean?" You asked, eyes never leaving his.

"You know what I mean," he said, his voice a bit rough with nervousness and something else.

Your heart fluttered when the meaning of his words started to sink in. The vulnerability in his expression, the way his voice trembled ever so slightly, the way his fingers curled into fists on his knees as if trying to muster up courage—it was all so... Armin. And it made your heart ache.

"Armin, I..." you started, unable to really find the words to reply with anything else. Especially when he began to shift closer.

With a whisper of your name, his hands gently cupped your cheeks as he slightly leaned in as you felt yourself do the same. Before you could say anything else, his lips were on yours.

The kiss started soft, almost cautious, like he wasn’t entirely sure if this was okay. But the moment you responded, your hand slipping to the back of his neck to pull him closer, all hesitation melted away. It was like something inside him snapped, and suddenly the kiss was anything but cautious.

Armin kissed you like he had been waiting for this moment forever, like he was terrified it might be the only chance he’d ever get. One of his hands moved to hold you at the waist, his lips moving against yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

Your heart was pounding so loudly you were certain he could feel it. There was nothing gentle about the way he kissed you now, nothing reserved. It was desperate, heated, and filled with all the emotions he had been holding back for so long.

When his tongue slowly traced at your lips you were unable to decline, your mouth parting as it gently slipped inside to meet yours. Armin let out a soft sigh at the feeling of your tongue and lips, his grip on your waist tightening just a bit. Your fingers tangled into his blonde hair as you kissed.

Armin’s hands slid down from your waist, his fingers brushing over the soft fabric of your sleep shirt—thin, worn, and barely concealing the warmth of your skin beneath. His touch was teasing, exploratory, as if he was mapping every curve, every breath you took. His lips never left yours, though the kiss had slowed into something deeper, more deliberate, his tongue tracing lazy patterns against yours.

When his fingers grazed the hem of your shirt, he pulled back just enough to murmur against your lips, his voice rough with want but still laced with that careful consideration. "May I...?"

You nodded, breathless, and he didn’t hesitate any longer. His hands slid under the fabric, palms skimming up your sides, his thumbs brushing just beneath the swell of your breasts. He exhaled sharply through his nose, a quiet laugh escaping him as his fingers traced higher.

"No bra?" he murmured, his voice low and teasing, though his cheeks were flushed. "I mean... I get it. Comfort first." His thumbs circled your nipples, already stiffening under his touch, and he smirked. "But damn, is it convenient."

You huffed a laugh, but it dissolved into a gasp as his fingers pinched lightly, rolling the sensitive peaks between them. "Armin—"

"You okay?" he asked, though his hands didn’t stop, his touch alternating between soft caresses and firmer pressure, testing what made you shiver.

You nodded, biting your lip as his mouth left yours to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down your throat. His teeth grazed your pulse point, and you arched into him instinctively, your fingers tightening in his hair.

"Good," he breathed against your skin, his hands sliding fully up to cup your breasts, kneading them with a slow, deliberate rhythm. His thumbs flicked over your nipples again, and he grinned when you whined. "I’ve thought about this. A lot. Way too much, if I'm honest. How you’d sound. How you’d feel."

His lips found the dip of your collarbone, sucking lightly before dragging his tongue over the spot, soothing the sting. One hand left your chest to trail lower, fingers dipping just beneath the waistband of your sleep pants. "Tell me if you want me to stop," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

You shook your head, your hips shifting toward his touch. "Please don't."

Armin laughed, low and breathless, before his hands slid further down into your waistband, fingertips tracing the curve of your thighs. "Then let me—" His breath hitched as his fingers dipped lower, brushing against the heat between your legs—only to pause.

His eyes flicked back up to yours, wide with disbelief. "...No panties, either?"

You grinned sheepishly, shifting just enough to press yourself against his hand. "They're uncomfortable, too," you protested.

Armin groaned, dragging his fingers through your slick folds with a shudder. "Fuck, you’re killing me." His touch was featherlight at first, teasing circles around your clit before dipping lower, just barely pressing inside.

"Armin—please—" You whimpered, hips rocking against his hand.

He kissed you again, swallowing your moans as his fingers continued their exploration. "You feel so good," he breathed against your lips. "Tell me what you want. I’ll give you anything. You know that?"

His words made your heart skip a beat. You instantly leaned forward, pressing your lips to his roughly as his fingers rubbed circles over your wet clit.

Armin’s breath hitched at your kiss, his fingers gliding effortlessly through your slick folds, each stroke teasing another desperate whimper from your lips. His thumb pressed firm circles against your clit while his middle finger teased at your entrance, dragging up and down in slow, torturous strokes before finally—finally—sinking inside.

"Fuck—" His voice was rough, his pupils blown wide with lust as he watched your face contort in pleasure, your thighs trembling around his hand. "You’re so tight…"

The first push of his finger was slow, deliberate, letting you adjust to the stretch before he curled it just right, rubbing against that sweet spot that made your back arch off the bed. His lips crashed back onto yours, swallowing your moans as he added a second finger, stretching you even further, his palm pressing firmly against your clit with every thrust.

His fingers worked you with relentless precision, curling and scissoring inside you, each movement sending sparks of white-hot pleasure up your spine. Your nails dug into his shoulders as your hips rocked against his hand, chasing your release with desperate, broken gasps.

His fingers curled inside you, dragging against your walls in slow, deliberate strokes, each one making your hips jerk against his hand. "Fuck, I can feel you squeezing me, (Y/N)... like you don’t want me to pull out."

You whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders as he added a third finger, stretching you just enough to make your breath stutter. His thumb circled your clit in tight, relentless motions, matching the rhythm of his thrusting fingers. The slick sounds of your arousal filled the room, obscenely loud in the quiet space between your ragged breaths.

"Come on," he urged, his voice thick with lust as he watched you unravel beneath him. "Let me feel it—let me feel you come on my fingers. Please."

And God, you couldn’t hold back any longer—not when he was touching you like this, not when he sounded so desperate for it. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your back arching yourself into him as you cried into his shoulder, your pussy clenching around his fingers in rhythmic pulses, soaking his hand with your release.

Armin didn’t stop—not even as you writhed beneath him, oversensitive and shaking. He kept fucking you through it, fingers still buried deep inside you, his thumb still working your clit until you were sobbing, your legs twitching with the aftershocks.

Only then did he finally slow, pressing a kiss to your parted lips as he pulled his fingers free—glistening with your arousal. He brought them to his lips, his tongue darting out to lick them clean with a low, satisfied groan, his cheeks flushed a deep red.

"Armin!" You scolded, embarrassment seeping in at the way he tasted you.

"I'm sorry, was it too much?" He asked softly, one hand placed gently along the curve of your hip, and his eyes full of consideration and care.

You shook your head, unable to resist anything about him when you saw just how much he cared for your comfort. Remembering him being here wasn't just about fucking, but because he was trying to tell you something without using words. Something you similarly felt, but were never brave enough to act on.

Your heart pounded wildly as Armin leaned down to press another tender kiss to your lips, his fingers brushing along your heated skin with a reverence that made your stomach flutter. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to taste you," he admitted softly, breath fanning against your mouth.

The words sent another rush of warmth between your thighs, but before you could respond, his hands were already moving—slowly beginning to unbutton his shirt. Your breath caught as he tossed it to the floor, revealing the lean, toned frame of a soldier who had long since shed the softness of his cadet days. His skin was marked with faint scars, the proof of battles fought and survived, but the way he looked at you—eyes dark with need, lips slightly parted—made him seem almost vulnerable in this moment.

His hands slid up your body, fingers tracing along your ribs before tugging at the waistband of your loose sleep pants. You lifted your hips, letting him peel them off slowly, his breath hitching as he revealed the bare, glistening heat between your thighs. "You're beautiful," he breathed, before he moved his hands to the waistband of his own pants.

Then, his pants slid down his legs, and your gaze dropped.

His cock stood fully erect, thick and flushed a deep red at the tip, veins running along the length of it. It wasn’t massive, but it was perfect—curved just slightly upwards, the head already glistening with precum as it twitched under your hungry stare.

You bit your lower lip, your fingers reached out, ghosting along the length of him—just once—before he caught your wrist, pressing a kiss to your palm before gently guiding you back onto the bed beneath him.

The weight of his body settling over yours sent a shiver down your spine, the warmth of his skin pressing against yours as he leaned down to capture your lips again. His hips rocked forward, the hard length of his cock dragging through your slick folds, spreading your arousal along his shaft in a slow, torturous glide.

He leaned in to kiss you slowly, savoring the taste of your lips, your skin, the way your body molded so perfectly under his. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, hands pushing your hair back and out of the way of your forehead.

"Mnh... and... you're so wet," Armin groaned, slowly sliding his erection through your dripping slit. His hand held onto his cock, guiding it as he rubbed the leaking head over your clit before pressing it down to drag it over your entrance. Up and down he teased you maddeningly with long sensual strokes, his shaft growing damp and slick from your juices.

Armin grunted as he continued to slide his cock back and forth between your glistening folds, teasing and stimulating your clit as well. "Oh, my God," Armin shuddered, his member throbbing almost painfully in his grip, the broad crown glistening proof of your arousal.

Armin couldn't stop thrusting his hips now, the tip of his cock fluttering just slightly as if trying to push past your entrance and dive deep into your tight heat. He fought the urge to simply drive forward and bury himself balls deep inside you. He wanted to do so badly to watch you come undone beneath him. But even so, he wanted to savor you. Savor the moment.

"Armin," you whimpered, thighs and hips trembling every time the tip nudged at your clit, feeling wetness still seep onto the flesh of his dick. "Stop teasing, please," you say, brows furrowed as he continued the torture.

"I'm sorry," he grinned sheepishly, his hips also twitching slightly. You knew he was having trouble holding back also, but if his goal was to just get you unbearbly wet, he was doing a pretty good job.

Your breathing grew heavier as Armin continued to torture you with the slow drag of his cock against your wet cunt, the swollen tip parting your folds to dip teasingly into your entrance before he retreated, the drag of his length through your slick an obscene sound in the quiet room. Each deliberate pass over your clit made you jolt and shudder beneath him, your thighs clenching around his hips as he stoked the desire building rapidly in your core to a fevered pitch.

With every pass, he pushed into you just a little bit deeper until the fat head of his cock finally caught on your entrance, stretching you open with tender slowness as he sank into your tight, gripping pussy inch by inch. Armin groaned at the feeling of your walls fluttering around him, so hot and slick and gripping his length tightly.

"Fuck...you feel incredible," he rumbled, his breath coming in hard pants now as he finally bottomed out inside you, every thick centimeter of him buried to the hilt in your grasping heat.

"Armin," you whined, earning a small smile from him.

"I know, baby," he said softly, composure barely holding on.

Armin captured your lips in a sweet kiss as he started to move, rolling his hips with deliberate slowness, letting you feel every drag and pull as he fucked into you torturously slow. It was different from how he'd touched you with his fingers, deeper and harder, more purposeful as each thrust seemed focused on hitting precisely that perfect spot inside of you that made your toes curl and your back arch clean off the bed.

"Feel good?" He asks, looking down at your flushed face and the way sweat began to gather at your forehead, his hand still pushing your hair out of your face as he fucked you.

"Mhm," you reply, hips rolling on their own to meet every thrust of his hips, driving his cock deeper inside of you. "Harder, please, Armin," you requested with a whimper, eyes meeting his.

"I've got you," he responded, then shifted his weight to pull you closer, impossibly closer, his arms holding you against him tightly. "I've got you, baby," he repeated, this time his lips grazing softly against your ear.

Then, his pace increased, and you had nowhere to go as he fucked you while holding you in a tight hug. "Armin!" You cried out against his shoulder, the feeling of his thick cock plunging into your dripping pussy again and again, the drag of his cock against your walls overwhelming as he fucked into you with an fervor that stole your ability to think. Your thighs trembled around his pistoning hips as he breathed into your ear, sweat starting to bead along his forehead as he drove himself deeper, harder into your body with each roll of his hips, chasing your pleasure and his own with single-minded focus.

"God—fuck—I've wanted this for so long," he groaned, his grip tightening around you as if he was afraid you’d slip away. "Wanted you... for so fucking long."

His thrusts were brutal, each one driving his cock so deep inside you that you could feel his hips slamming against your clit with every snap of his pelvis. But despite the rough, almost punishing pace, his words were tender—sweet—like he was pouring out every hidden feeling he'd ever had for you in between the filthy, wet sounds of your bodies moving together.

"You don't even—ah—know how many times I thought about this," he panted, his teeth grazing your shoulder before soothing the sting with a gentle kiss. "How many times I imagined fucking you just like this—holding you so close to me."

You whimpered, overwhelmed by the force of his thrusts and the raw emotion in his voice. His cock was stretching you so perfectly, hitting that spot inside you with every deep plunge, making your vision blur with pleasure.

"You feel so good," Armin grunted, his voice thick with lust and something deeper—something like love. "So good," he whimpered.

His hips stuttered as he adjusted his angle, fucking up into you with sharp, punishing rolls of his hips that made your toes curl. One of his hands slid into your hair, gripping gently but firmly as he forced you to look at him—his kind blue eyes burning with need, brows furrowed, his lips parted in pleasure.

"Tell me you feel it too," he demanded, his voice rough but pleading. "Tell me you've wanted this—wanted me—just as much. Please."

You could barely form words, your mind clouded with pleasure, but you managed a breathless nod, your nails digging into his shoulders as he fucked you through another wave of mind-numbing ecstasy.

"Say it," he urged, his cock twitching inside you as he felt your walls clench around him. "Tell me—fuck—tell me you're mine. Please say you're mine."

"I'm yours," you gasped, arching into him as the coil in your stomach tightened unbearably. "Always yours—fuck!"

Your climax crashes over you like a tidal wave, your entire body tensing as you cry out his name—"Armin!"—your nails raking down his back as your pussy clenches around him in desperate, rhythmic pulses. The pleasure is overwhelming, white-hot and all-consuming, and you cling to him like he's the only thing keeping you grounded as waves of ecstasy shudder through you.

Armin groans, his thrusts growing erratic as he feels you clamp down around him, your slick walls milking his cock mercilessly. "Fuck—fuck—I can't—" His voice is ragged, his hips stuttering as he fights to hold on, but the way you’re gripping him is too much. With a final, shuddering groan, he pulls out just in time, his cock throbbing as thick ropes of cum stripe your stomach, hot and sticky against your skin.

For a moment, all you can hear is the sound of your own breathing, harsh and uneven, mixed with Armin's labored pants as he nearly collapses on top og you, his body trembling with exertion. His arm shakes as he holds himself up just enough to avoid crushing you, his forehead pressing against yours as you both come down from the high.

Slowly, gently, Armin shifts to prop himself up on one elbow, his free hand reaching for his discarded shirt nearby. He cleans you up with careful, reverent strokes, his touch achingly tender as he wipes away the mess he made.

"Sorry," he murmurs, though the way he smiles tells you he's not that sorry. "Got a little carried away."

You laugh breathlessly, your fingers threading through his sweat-damp hair as he leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips. "I’m not complaining."

Armin smiles against your mouth before pulling back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes warm with affection. "Good." He shifts to pull the covers over both of you, tucking you against his chest as his fingers trace lazy patterns along your spine. "You okay?"

You nod, giving Armin a sweet kiss first to his flushed cheek and then his lips.

"I meant everything. I really like you. Everything about you," he says into your hair after you pulled away, holding you close and praying you'd say the same.

"Me too," you reply, letting yourself relax in his embrace.

[cairoblair]

a deep dive, as promised. i was wrong in my initial assessment of the new lore. so, now that i have a better understanding of what’s going on, let's discuss.

Sylus Lore

Included: Dragon Myth and Main Story, references to other memories| Length: 3k+ words ━━༻❁༺━━━━

Part 1: Dragon Myth

Sylus was too human to be dragon, but too dragon to be human. His dragon kin were killed, but he was taken by the humans until they realized he had horns. The humans tried to kill him 108 ways and failed, but the 109th succeeded, and that was MC.

MC was a sorceress who was also cast out of society. In the abyss that she was stuck in, she hears Sylus’ voice and sees a vision of his shadow on the wall - a dragon bound by chains with a sword through his chest. He tells her to make a deal with him, if she wants to live. She pulls the sword from his chest, seemingly gaining a part of his soul as she does so.

His right eye still has the power to see and manipulate desires, much like it does in the current timeline. It seems MC’s power still comes from her heart, as she describes most of the pain and other sensations as being in her chest. This is a direct correlation to their aether cores - which, I’m beginning to believe were also present in this past life. I will explain my theory on this later.

Throughout the story of this myth, souls are spoken about many times. Dragons consume human souls, Sylus and MC’s souls are intertwined, etc. Their story, across every timeline, centers on this concept. From MC gaining a part of his soul, to them fully exchanging half of their souls, to MC cursing his after he dies - souls are the focal point of their dynamic.

The mark Sylus leaves on her neck seems to allow her to feel his desires - it pulses and hurts whenever he is hungry for another soul. It seems that whenever they make physical contact - specially when blood is involved - they both experience each other’s desires and sensations. This sends them both into a frenzy-like haze, but for what reason exactly? The curse? Their souls? The aether cores? What exactly is the trigger for this reaction? My answer: All of the above.

As we know, the dragon’s curse says that a dragon will kill his lover. But, MC is destined to be his archnemesis - the only one that is capable of killing him. So, on her third attempt, he forces her hand, plunging the greatsword into his chest instead of sinking his claws into hers. He tells her, "You must press on. Because if you don't, there's no going back." The meaning here is debatable. For one thing, if MC doesn't succeed in killing him, he will kill her. This is his fate. Part of me also wants to believe that he knows she is capable of binding their souls in a way he cannot. Which she proceeds to do.

In the valley that he managed to take her to, his scales crystallize and his body turns to flower petals. It is at this point that MC curses his soul to never truly die, not without her offering him a true death. It is only then that she grows horns and a tail, and becomes one with her dragon.

Some noteworthy things in this myth: - Sylus' right eye and MC's heart/chest → aether cores - The emphasis on souls → Death & Rebirth - Sylus' greed and encouragement of MC's → present timeline dynamic. He wants her to be greedy enough to take what she wants, regardless of the consequnces. He wants her to be greedy for him. - "Prove to me that you can be stronger." → "Relax. You can handle it." Long-Awaited Revelry & "You never doubted yourself. Or my capabilities, for that matter." - Death & Rebirth & Sylus' monologue to Dimitri (keep reading for full voice line) - The voice in MC's head (kill him, it is yours to take, etc.) → Long Awaited Revelry - "If he's going to treat me like a pet cat, he shouldn't be surprised if he gets scratched." → "Kitten" - The importance of music → Continuous Symphony - "Stay by my side until the end of time." → Similar quotes in various memories - Half of their souls exchanged → Souls mentioned various times in main story and memories - Flower crown, flower petals, MC's placement of the flowers on Sylus → Valleydream Bloom - The valley outside Tarus - Valleydream Bloom scenery - "Had your fill? Seen enough?" → "Well? Did you get your fill? If not... I can give you more." Valleydream Bloom - "Our souls are bound. We will never betray each other even if Doomsday arrives outside this Sanctuary. Even if the world crumbles. This promise will never be broken." → "Sorry, but your soul doesn't have the privilege of leaving whenever it wants. I will keep you bound to me for all of eternity. Our connection transcends this place and this world." Death & Rebirth

━━༻❁༺━━━━

Main Story

There's a lot to unpack here, so let's start at the very beginning.

As mentioned in Death & Rebirth, MC had dreams of her and Sylus battling in an "intergalactic arena," where they battled wanderers in front of a crowd. Whether this was located on another planet or simply somewhere in space is unclear. They were then encouraged to fight each other to the death, to which Sylus refused and insisted they escape. In doing so, they caused a nebula that carried them away from that place. MC does not recall this escape, but Sylus does, and they talk about this in Death & Rebirth. "But when we faced each other, you didn't attack. Instead, you took my hand and asked if I wanted to escape together. That nebula was more chaotic than an abyss. I didn't see how it ended... Did we manage to escape?" "What do you think? If we hadn't, then who exactly are you talking to right now?" "We're pretty special, huh."

Upon landing on earth, MC is taken by EVER to the Gaia Research Center, and Sylus lands in the N109 zone pre-Chronorift Catastrophe. He emphasized that this was not a coincidence - therefore insinuating that he went there purposefully. We can assume he knew where MC landed, and sought her out after arriving.

He was the one to free MC from the research center. What happens immediately after is unclear, but we can assume Josephine leaves EVER, taking MC with her, and the Chronorift Catastrophe happens soon after. This leaves MC without her memories, given she does not remember anything that happened prior, while Sylus remains in the N109 Zone.

We know Sylus has been tracking her for some time. We see a glimpse of Mephisto in the no-hunt zone early on in the game. Therefore, we can assume Sylus knows everything she has done in her young adulthood, since she became a hunter at the very least. Let's take a close look at their "first" meeting. Having Sylus appear on the bell tower is a deliberate choice, in my opinion. In his myth, he and MC stay at a chapel for quite some time. Most chapels have a bell tower at the very top, so this seems like a parallel. An omen, if you will.

He once again mentions souls: "Even if you wanted to sell your soul, you still have to find someone who can pay the price." I think this insinuates something. For one thing, Sylus knows her soul is not entirely her own. She has half of his, and he has half of hers. Also, he is likely the only one who is not only willing, but able, to pay the price.

When he attempts to use his right eye, MC is immediately plagued by visions. Her hands are covered in blood - exactly the same as the scene in the myth. This reappears later as well. This gives me more evidence to support my theory that these aether cores have existed in them since their past life. Perhaps it is the aether cores themselves that hold these memories. 

She lashes out due to these visions and the pain she feels because of them. After slicing his cheek, he says, "Is this how you greet a new friend? I guess you don't remember anything. Allow me to jog your memory." Originally, I believed this only referred to their past life, but I think he's talking about something else as well. They've met in this life before. There is much to remember. "From your past to your future... To even all the crimes you'll inevitably commit. After all, you and I...we're the same. True kindred spirits." He knows the power she wields, even though she doesn't know the extent of it yet. He's seen it firsthand. He's been aware of the aether core, given he has his own. They are the same in more ways than one. Not only are they kindred spirits, but their souls are one in the same as well. He has waited for her since they were separated - which he never wanted to happen in the first place. I will reference one of his monologues in Magnum Opus, where he compares them to flowers who were forced to grow in different soils, despite being meant to grow together. He calls it a cruel twist of fate. Now, yes, Sylus is quite rough with MC in Long-Awaited Revelry, but I truly believe it's because he knows what she's capable of, how much she can handle. Not to mention the fact that she doesn't remember him after everything they've been through, everything he's done for her. I'd be pretty pissed too. They have a lot of trouble resonating. Whether it's truly because of what the shop-keeper said or not is up for debate. He, of course, says that it's because she finds Sylus quite repulsive. You can see the hurt and frustration on his face during that scene. But, I'm tempted to believe it's something deeper. In every timeline, Sylus and MC have been destined to kill each other. This is obvious both in his myth and in Death & Rebirth. He blatantly says it: "Either I kill you, or you kill me." This seems to be written in the stars. So, is this the true reason they couldn't resonate? Was it not supposed to be possible? Is this why Sylus was trying so hard? Perhaps it's an attempt to challenge fate itself, since he's been known to do such things (having the sorceress kill him instead of vice versa). He’s not willing to accept the script the universe has given them. No, he’s going to write his own, once again. 

The first time they resonate is after they fight the wanderer for the aether core fragment. In the midst of the deepspace tunnel appearing, Sylus once again says, "You must press on." But, he says something interesting afterwards. "The life you owe me - now is not the time to repay it." Is this referring to the life she owes him because she took his? Or because he saved hers? Either way, I don’t believe the debt he’s referencing has to do with her dying in order to repay it. She owes him a life lived with him, not away from him. When they resonate, it is noticeably different than the times she has resonated with the other LIs. "Unprecedented power swells between our intertwined fingers. Instantly, I feel a tremor from deep within my heart. Something flows through my veins." We can assume this, and the energy linkage around their wrists, is a result of their aether cores. Now, we don't truly know what these are, but I have a theory. They're made of an unknown material, but I imagine they have to come from space, as most materials of this nature do. If this is the case, let's assume all aether cores come from the same original source, and that they were scattered by some explosion or nebula. This would most likely mean that, like protons and electrons, aether cores gravitate towards one another. This would be a reasonable cause for the energy link and the effect Sylus' eye has on MC. So, I’m going to conclude that the aether cores have an innate need to be in close proximity to each other - hence, the energy link between Sylus and MC. This also may be in connection to their souls and how intertwined they are. I also have reason to believe these aether cores were present in their previous life, as I mentioned earlier. Therefore, could the aether cores be connected to their souls, rather than their bodies? They seem to follow them through time and space, keeping the two of them connected no matter what timeline or world they find themselves in. And, with their fate to be each other’s demise, do these aether cores override this destiny? Is this why they’re able to resonate? 

Now, I'd like to examine a conversation they have in Long Awaited-Revelry: "But before I started resonating with you, I saw a strange vision..." "It's not a big deal. From now on, you'll be seeing more things like that." "So that...was real?" "If I say yes, will you give me a sincere apology? This world is different from what you see. But I'm not in the mood to tell stories at the moment."

I don't think it's his mood that's stopping him. We've seen time and time again that Sylus is desperately trying to get MC to remember him on her own. This is evident in his cards, most notably Valleydream Bloom. Now, whose skeleton is it? His? MC's? The valley is too similar to the one in Tarus for it to be a mere coincidence. It's also quite obvious in Continuous Symphony, given the tune he plays is the same one she played as the sorceress. And, somehow, she remembers it. He doesn’t want to be the one to tell her everything, to convince her that it’s true - she needs to discover it on her own. 

One more thing that caught my interest was one of the last text screens in Long-Awaited Revelry. The bell is tolling. "It's almost like an announcement, as if the world is saying... The true leader of Onychinus has returned." Literally translated, Onychinus means "of the marble called onyx." AKA, the stone that Sylus' scales turned into as he died. 109 also references the final attempt at killing the dragon - the one that succeeded. This is likely what he was aiming for with the name. MC didn't realize it before Death & Rebirth, but she lived in the N109 Zone when she was kept in the Gaia Research Center. Of course, the name was different then - given the city fell after the Chronorift Catastrophe. The “N” is the only thing I’m stuck on, as I can’t pinpoint a reason for it. But, I have reason to believe that the naming of the N109 Zone and Onychinus were meant to be hints to MC, to draw her into remembering their shared past. This much seems pretty obvious. 

In Death & Rebirth, MC wanders the halls of the Gaia Research Center. There is information on Xavier, Rafayel, and Zayne. We already know Caleb's history with EVER, so I don't believe we need to dive too deep into that at this point. The only person they don't have a room dedicated to is Sylus. Like us, he is not of this world. He arrived, saved us, and remained in the N109 Zone after the Chronorift Catastrophe. He is the reason it was rebuilt - he’s the creator of it, in a way. But, since this is the case, where is he from? Who is Sylus, really? He mentions in his myth that his name was of ancient origin on Philos, but MC couldn’t pronounce it. She gave him his name, and it has stuck to this day. Sylus’ body died that day of the 109th attempt, but his soul never did thanks to her curse. So, when was he reborn? And to whom? Or are we both simply children of the cosmos, born of something else entirely? 

While he’s killing Dimitri, he has several very interesting voice lines. First of all, he agreed to bring MC before him - and he clarifies that he made this deal when he rescued her. That must have been easily fourteen years ago. Was this a deal made in order to get her out? Maybe to keep her escape quiet? Or, was Sylus simply waiting for the day that he and MC could take Dimitri down together? “You underestimated how much she’s grown. Look at you, thinking she’s still the little girl whose life you held carelessly in your hands. Like every gambler who overestimates themselves, you are not as clever as you think you are. Get a nice long look. It’ll be your last. And do your best to remember the person who brought about your downfall. Die with a smile for us, alright?” Many things to point out here. Sylus has kept an eye on MC for some time - he’s likely seen how much she has truly grown, especially now with the spatium core. He probably knew what Dimitri would try to do when he came face to face with MC once again, and Sylus was fully prepared to deal with the aftermath. Especially now that MC remembers some of her past. That’s always been his end goal, hasn’t it? To see her be stronger, to be able to hold her own, then to stand by her side as they forge a new path for them both. 

Sylus has a strange sense of peace about him following this interaction. Despite what they’ve been through, and despite what fate has cursed them with, she remembers. At least enough to know that she and Sylus have met before, and that he escaped with her, and saved her. He has only ever wanted to protect her, to be close to her, no matter the cost. He couldn’t back then, but now, he has a chance. And he will not let it slip away again. 

“When I pulled you out of that giant glass tank… You looked like you were in so much pain that you wanted to die. If it really hurts, then stop. Don’t force yourself… And don’t ever make that face again while you’re at it.”

━━༻❁༺━━

If you made it to the end, thank you. This took me several hours, as I had to compile various different parts of the story and find specific parallels to reference. I absolutely adore what Infold has done with Sylus and MC's story. Before Death & Rebirth, I felt like their past was lacking. Yes, we had his myth, but no connection beyond that. Now, everything is starting to make sense. I cannot wait to continue putting these puzzle pieces together.

[dxxtruction]

its probably meant to be somewhat ambiguous but it seems most likely that armand was gaslighting louis so that he didn't trust himself and daniel didn't trust him. he also seemed to basically get what he wanted by instigating a fight and igniting some passion, we see by next ep's start it probably got resolved with sex and absolution. idk the talamasca angle is not as interesting a story

Ask is in reference to this post: HERE

That's cool. You're able to hold that I'm able to hold mine. Interpretations are just that. I will say it doesn't matter whether Armand planted them, or not, because he still ends up gaslighting Louis in the 2x04 argument anyway. It’s effectively gaslighting even if they are telling the truth here as they see it because of how things stack up and what's said.

It is basically how you said, and I'll just go ahead and expand for anyone who might not see it so clearly. Initially, it seems he's more or less trying to just get Louis off his case for the photos, and is willing to throw him, his mental state, and character under the bus, to do so. But Louis already straight up knows him of doing manipulative things, of this exact sort, in the interview before this event even occurred - Namely that Armand is making himself look far more approachable, and better to Daniel, even after they'd both agreed to basically tear this guy to shreds, which makes Louis look worse by default, and goes against what they agreed to both do. Armand has a repeated tendency to fall through on his promises, or promise things, but then take it his own direction when it suits him. In all cases, he does keep obstructing Louis interview, especially when it comes to Daniel, and won't fully admit to it. - this is why Louis' so reactive, among just the fact he has trauma related to being denied his own interiority, fullness, and freedoms, because he's Black, and in society, seen less human. Armand simply doesn't help his case by denying it, even if it were actually his truth that the photos weren't his doing. (Note; Armand has also faced horrific dehumanizing traumas, but in such a differing way I don't think he's able to empathize with the same way Louis been dehumanized in life. I argue a little if Louis is even able to do more than simply hold a lot of sympathy for Armand, as they really are not a lot alike in both their interior and exterior reality. I don't think that sympathy goes both ways often.)

The way he's also keeps behaving like the bigger person in this reinforces the belief Armand wants out of Louis, making him 'see' it, and probably also to Daniel as well who's definitely overhearing this (this particular part has a chance of being unintentional however, if he was only really intending to deescalate, but it still keeps the same effects).

Not only making Louis look like he's crazy to assume it, but denying he'd been doing anything wrong of the sort (by simply at no point coming forward and saying something reassuring of Louis reality along the lines of, 'I have been doing those things, it's just not this, and those weren't my intentions to hurt you with it, I'm sorry' or simply 'okay, I did it, sorry'). As well, it doesn't matter how much Armand's truthful, Louis is someone who necessarily does need reality checks like that, because he suffers from hallucinations, and as he's finding out, memory lapses, and not providing them will make him jump to presume it could be his own symptoms. Also, at one point in the argument, he actually throws out that Louis is insane, if it needed to be anymore obvious. Which is derogatory, if arguably true, though reinforces that Armand's behaviors to 'stop or aid his madness' in prior instances were all a-okay, and all necessary. There's nothing wrong with him, and what he's doing, its all Louis. (His intentions to deescalate, if anyone wants to take on that idea, would've changed by then. It reads as a pattern to me mimicking of the promises falling through.)

Anyway, I'd be saying in my interpretation that him willing to keep this up, even though the photos had nothing to do with it, just shows how much he'd actually use any situation that arises to manipulate/control Louis, and mess with Louis interview, as opposed to orchestrating or planning situations, so he can then also manipulate with it. With all intentions or not, it doesn't really matter. Which makes his manipulation more realistic, honestly. A better portrait of who Armand is tbh.

I don't claim this transcript as 100% accurate, but it's as close as I can get it:

L: Four Fred Steins in the album, four. You made me look foolish. 

A: You just assume it was me. 

L: Well, it wasn’t me. 

A: You sure about that? 

L: Excuse me?

A: I take it back. 

L: Take it way fucking back. 

A: It was probably an honest mistake from the staff.

L: You think I need to be coddled, hyped up, lied to? 

-cut-

A: You’re being Lestat! 

L: Go call on him, see what happens. 

A: A little ridiculous… It's the staff, dear.

L: I’m being ridiculous? You wanna see, you wanna see ridiculous? 

A: No, Louis, it was an honest mistake. You knew it.

L: AAAH

A: You weren’t here- 

L: LA LA LA LA

A: -And more and more of them-

L: LA LA

A: They got through! 

-flashbacks-

A: This isn’t about Lestat! 

-more flashback-

L: You lobbed at Daniel, and disrespected me. 

A: no no no no no no.

-flashback-

L: and over and over and over it’s always the same damn thing. 

A: You trying to trick me?

L: I don’t know I’m just your God now. The abandonment, and aren’t we both cut throat? 

A: You won’t believe me, when I was here. I’m the one who can see! 

L: Alright, first off, first off. 

A: You are insane! 

-fb-

L: You always do this! … We’ll be done with Daniel any day now. Now, knock it off. Its about the record, this is my interview. You hear me? The whole interview that will be heard by me. 

A: In a future that you won’t see!

-fb- 

L: No more! Will you go to speak without asking first. No more! Will you ever flirt around on your years. 

A: Oh, come to Dubai, Louis says, but not me. 

-Then I can’t make out anything-

Sex and absolution I do agree with as well. Like they did do that. I don't think either were expecting it to go that way from the beginning, though, as in neither started or orchestrated a reason for argument just to have makeup sex. That being somewhat normal for them after a big argument like that would not surprise me however. A certain interpretation I take of them having sex after (given the argument) was more that (it seems to me) part of the accusations here is that Armand is 'flirting' to win over Daniel's favor, and trying to get with him? Maybe even back together with him? (Centered a lot around Armand telling him his little love story with Lestat.) If not, just turning him against him. So having sex could reinforce Armand had/has no intentions of leaving, further obstructions wrt Daniel, and/or infidelity. That it's 'me and you' and not 'you and him'. (Which could be the real lie depending on how you want to take it here lmao. And is so bound to fall through because... Armand doesn't keep his promises, not even to himself it seems since he turned Daniel).

Again all interpretations are just that, so long as it can be legitimately supported by the text, and isn't grossly insensitive. The Talamasca just adds to the whole scene to me more than it detracts from it. The outside world necessarily has influenced both of their inside worlds, and further how they interact with each other in both, and is the cause behind of a lot of their behaviors and reactions. Talamasca causing those to erupt sort of points to that. It's real. The whole narrative actually feels more concrete and like there's a world outside who can still influence them if they were the one's doing it. Sometimes I feel people want to center Louis a bit too much in the story, which is fair, it is his story, he has a narrative that should be centered, but it is also other people's story as well. They are playing roles here in it.

Also this is why I really wonder if they'd ever revisit this? I'm a little peeved about it being so hidden tbh. There seems like so much added context and we're denied most of it from the music and constant flashbacks. Fingers-crossed maybe Daniel was recording it? IDK.

[vole-mon-amour]

.

[cherrysnax]

back when we were in film club, Chevy did a whole lesson on framing, photography, and body language using scenes from the bear as an example. everyone agreed that sydcarmys table scene has more intimacy in it vs carmy and Claire’s like big intimate talk which is funny

[whoreiaki-kakyoin]

……. With my thesis out of the way, I don’t really have as much of an excuse not to schedule my tilt table test huh.

Where are my scary guard dog blorbos who come to the doctor’s office with me to help me advocate for myself and chew out any providers who dismiss my concerns 🥺

If I have to go through with the tilt table, they’re driving me there and back and taking care of me as I recover. But I can also see Risotto or Aaravos berating whoever gives the test if they try to keep me there longer than I need. If my heart rate and blood pressure readings tell us what we need to know, then that’s that. They’re not waiting til I get sick or pass out to call it. They could try, of course… but it wouldn’t be a smart move.

[hpdfag]

i need to ramble hold on. spawns in a cut so that people dont get blasted by unfiltered posting on their dash. i feel the need to disclaim that im only like 50% lucid right now so this might be disorganized or complete word salad i can't really tell right now

i love him so much it feels like it's consuming me from the inside out. i don't want to do anything that isn't for him. the only reason i haven't quit my job is because i want to make him proud of me. even playing games makes me guilty, because i know it's not with him. i married harvey in stardew. i ate the stardrop for getting 12 hearts as i kissed him. the taste reminded me of hinata. it's a strange irony.

this false body feels like it's trapping me, keeping me from achieving my true metamorphosis. there are streetlights glimmering in the distance. as i try to move towards them they always fade away. the morning will come in 7 hours and 43 minutes and the sun will rise and it won't blind me awake. i'm not reverent enough.

i should pray. not to jesus, not to any other false prophet. i should pray to Him. maybe that will bring me salvation? maybe that will free me from this hell? maybe it happened because i was unworthy of being one of his trusted apostles. if i was as holy as he was it would have been different, i would still have been beneath him but i would have served my divine purpose as his servant.

but that's not important. i dont think. im jor sure. i hate it. i hate Him. i feel like i should Worship him. there's a certain something i still havent fixed a glitch in my code i need ocean breeze summer sun beach sand shining brilliance he's perfect i need him i need warm sun and dry land i need to be with him on the floor i need to hold him i need need need need need need need.

more than air more than food more than clean clothes more than water more than anything else more than i need this terrible mortal life i need to become worthy for him of his love of his care of his touch i wont deny that i selfishly want him to hold me and touch me even though im unworthy even though im no more than dirt beneath him i desire him so deeply

[mirmidones]

3.40 i woke up bc i was cold and needed to pee and now i can't fall back asleep i keep thinking of the people i accidentally ghosted. is it ghosted if there was no intent to ghost? i feel so bad and it's not even like i don't think about them i often do think "i should really reply to them... once this is over ill properly sit down and write them... " and then i don't bc something else happens and im dealing with that and the longer i leave it unanswered the more difficult it becomes because i feel so guilty and therefore want to do things properly not half assed but bc i feel so guilty a part of me also tends to avoid it even more. if i do this to you just know i'm really sorry and ill get back to you i swear

[camellia-thea]

initially this post had some commentary about interests right now. and then it turned into a ramble about personal healing in the tags. so the interest post is going separately.

[crazyw3irdo]

saw jaws for the first time today and i can’t believe despite knowing so much about it through cultural osmosis i had no clue matt hooper existed and i love that funky little guy

[snapbackslide]

you know, it kind of bothers me that this is what it took for everyone to start talking about how well his line has been doing.

i've been talking about the 51-71-40 line all year, and i'm glad people are finally starting to realize just how good they are, but gosh. this sucks.

and i understand why people are bringing up johnny, obviously we all flashed back to that, but according to the details they released it definitely was not as serious, so i wish it would stop being compared. if only for my own sanity...

the fact emil walked away from the incident, and apparently didn't feel the effects until today, makes me think it really isn't worth worrying about. which is so, so relieving, for me.

[followmybadreligion]

thinking about getting a little too drunk w husband!simon…

he’s already a super possessive guy, but your drunken antics are only making it ten times worse.

sure, coming to the bar was his idea. it was only fair, after such a long week at work, that he got to have a nice dinner on the town and a few beers shortly after. even better that he got to do it with his pretty fucking wife, you know?

yeah, he watched you slip into the tightest, smallest dress you had, curl your hair into pretty little coils, and push and pull at everything else out of place. he saw the too tall black pumps you choose— the one’s he got you for your anniversary that make your legs look model-length long. he even saw the way your black lace bralette played peek-a-boo along your dress’s neckline.

all of it only made him more excited.

getting to show you off on the town? his sweet, sexy little woman all done-up and pretty, hanging off his arm like his little trophy? god, he was practically hard before you two could reach the front door.

the second that liquor hit your system, though, was the second all hell broke loose.

at this point in the night, you’re long past the idea of sitting pretty, eating your food, and posing for pictures. now, you’re feeling good. a little tipsy, or maybe even drunk. all the shyness or docile little feelings from the beginning of the night are gone.

now, you wanna dance. you wanna throw your arms up and sway with the other bar-goers, and why shouldn’t you be able to?

you didn’t mind the way your dress rode up your thighs, giving the wrong people an eyeful of your goods. you hadn’t noticed the men who’d run their hands over you, every so often passing by with their crotch just a little too close to your ass. all you were focused on was the music, how good you felt, and when your next shot was coming.

if only you had paid attention to the damn near menacing stare simon had you under. something that rivaled a madman’s with its intensity.

he’d held back for the first few songs, letting the angel on his shoulder telling him to ease up guide him. sure, he still stood around like an unamused body guard, sending glares to the gawking men and buying your drinks whenever you asked. maybe occasionally he’d get a cute picture or video of you too. that was just what came with the simon o’riley type though.

it wasn’t until you got to the flirty territory, grinding your ass into him with the music or kissing him with a little too much tongue, that he decided to pull the plug.

and god, did you always give him attitude for it.

“i’m not ready to leave, simon,” you’d whine, eyes glossed over and face screwed up in that cute little way you only do when you’re aggravated.

“i want another drink,” but you’re slurring and stumbling already.

“just keep kissing on me, baby,” you protest as he grabs your discarded shoes and purse and starts leading you towards the exit.

he’s sweet with you at first, given how drunk and cute you truly are. sure, you may have triggered his possessiveness early, but you’re batting your eyelashes up at him and clinging onto him for dear life. how could he not talk to you softly? how could he not kiss you back as he tugged your dress back down?

“it’s alright, lovie. let’s get home and i’ll take such good care of you.”

you start trying to fight him though and you’ll see how thin his patience truly is.

doing things out of spite? pulling his hands away from you while he’s trying to guide you down the street? arguing with him through your half-coherent sentences? cursing him under your breath just loud enough that he can hear it?

you’re getting yourself in trouble and you’re too drunk to know it.

he was prepared to let your little outbursts slide. wouldn’t hold it against you and still keep his plans straight for the night.

after all you’d done, he was still gonna get you home, slip off those stockings and undo those zippers. dedicate the rest of the night to making you feel all good like how you’d begging him too.

but you just can’t keep that pretty little mouth shut, can you?

“don’t make it worse for yourself.” he’d warn, grabbing your face from its resting place against his passenger-side window, “you’ve already fucked up enough as is, yeah?”

his voice is gruff and his jaw is set, but his eyes don’t leave yours for a second.

you’ll be making it up to him all night long, and he’s gonna be anything but nice now ;)

[meenaxskz]

when the bed gave up on life (hyung line)

ot8 reactions | bf!skz x reader au genre: crack | light smut warnings: language | suggestive content a/n : (testing new posts layout, it will probably change again idk) i always try to not write cliché gym rat changbin... but it has jokes potential so yeah lol. ✧ hyung line | maknae line

bang chan

“C’mere” Chan growls flipping you onto your stomach. You gasp, already dizzy “Holy shit-okay-aggressive!” “I said I’d make you feel it” he grunts, pressing into you, “so shut up and-” CRRREAK. SNAP. Silence. You’re on the floor. The mattress is sideways. A piece of the frame bounced. Chan’s still inside you “…Did the bed just die?” you whisper, stunned. He’s frozen. Still holding your hips. “I-I think I just alpha’d the IKEA out of it.” You collapse face first into the blanket, wheezing. Chan pulls out gently like he’s scared touching you will trigger another collapse. “I’m so sorry,” he says, horrified. “Are you hurt??” You look up with tears in your eyes...from laughing “You fucked us into poverty” He starts pacing. Still naked “I JUST WANTED TO MAKE YOU SEE STARS” “You did! But the bed saw heaven!” --- Five minutes later, you’re both wrapped in the blanket on the floor, drinking water and staring at the broken frame like it’s a crime scene. Chan sighs. “That was expensive.” You snort. “tell me about it” He looks at you, grins. “You still wanna finish?” You raise a brow. “On what the rug?” He shrugs. “Bet it won’t break.”

lee know

You’re clinging to the headboard. He’s behind you, low growling, full feral mode, hips snapping. “Don’t even try to run” he pants. “You wanted this.” You gasp “Min- the bed’s creaking-” He grips your hips tighter. “So are you. Guess which one I care about more.” CRRREEAAAK. SNAP. THUD. You drop. Flat on the mattress, now tilted at a cursed 45 degrees. Minho flops on top of you like a sweaty, breathless. Silence. “…Did we just fall?” You’re wheezing into the sheet. “THE BED BROKE YOU PSYCHO.” He slowly lifts himself off you, glancing around checking the crime scene. Then calmly : “…It was probably loose before we started.” You sit up, wild-eyed. “I literally heard you say ‘I wanna break you tonight.’” “I meant emotionally. That bed just had bad build quality.” “...Minho, one of the legs is across the room.” He shrugs. “That’s not my fault. That’s gravity. And weak screws.” You glare at him, tangled in sheets and shame. He wipes sweat off his chest with a smug little annoying smirk. “You’re welcome by the way.” “For WHAT?!?” “For the experience. You’re glowing.” "Oh my god" --- Later, you lie together on the mattress, which is on the floor now, panting and sore. You mutter “we need a new bed.” He hums, already falling asleep “...and it better be able to handle me”

changbin

It starts innocent enough... LIES. Sweat is dripping, you’re moaning, he’s muttering things like “You’re so tight,” “I love this angle” and “This is why I do leg day" (??) The bed is screaming. You clutch the headboard “It’s creaking-” “I’M CREAKING TOO BABY STAY FOCUSED—” CREEAAACKK. SNAP. BOOM. The bed dies. You both collapse mid-thrust like the mattress got drop-kicked by karma. You gasp. “WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!” Changbin is hovering above you, wide-eyed, hair sticking up like he got electrocuted “…Did I break the bed?” You stare. “Are you asking me while you’re still inside me?!” He slowly pulls out, rolls to the side, and looks around at the hurricane damage. One bed leg is completely gone. A bolt rolled under the dresser. He exhales. “That’s kinda hot though.” You blink. “You BROKE our BED Binnie!” “I told you I was strong” You smack his arm. “This isn’t CrossFit! This was my peaceful coochie session!” He giggles. --- He grabs his phone. “Wait. Wait. I need a pic. I gotta show the guys.” “DON’T YOU DARE” He grins. “I’m putting ‘broke the bed during sex’ on my gym progress tracker.”

hyunjin

You’re on top, breathless, hair sticking to your forehead, hands planted on his chest. Hyunjin’s gripping your thighs, eyes rolling back as you ride him. “Fuck-yes...just like that, baby...” CREAAKK. SNAP. THE WHOLE RIGHT SIDE DROPS. You scream as the mattress collapses, pitching sideways. Hyunjin yelps, legs flailing as you both go crashing down mid-thrust. A full thud echoes across the room. Silence. Then his voice : “…WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!” You’re tangled in blankets, still half on top of him. “DID YOU JUST ASK ME LIKE I PLANNED THAT?!” He stares at you with wide, scandalized eyes. “YOU WERE ON TOP THIS IS YOUR FAULT.” You sit up, offended. “I was riding you into heaven and the bed flopped.” He throws a hand up dramatically. “EXACTLY I WAS LITERALLY JUST LYING THERE BEING SEXY AND SUPPORTIVE.” You glare “supportive?? You kept yelling FASTER like I was a fucking engine!” He rolls off the broken half of the bed and flops onto the floor like a naked fish “The bed wasn’t ready for that kind of passion. I wasn’t ready. My ass hit the wood slats” You cover your face. “I think I bruised my knee.” --- 10 minutes later, Hyunjin is sprawled across the mattress on the floor “we need a new bed. And... knees.” You open one eye “You still came though.” He chucks a pillow at you.

⤷ main m.list ❟

DISCLAIMER : This blog and all related content (fics, fake texts, headcanons, imagines, etc.) are entirely fictional and created for entertainment purposes only. I do not know Stray Kids personally, nor do I claim any of this reflects their real personalities, actions, or relationships. All characters and their personalities—including Meena King—are original creations.Please enjoy responsibly and remember : real people = real boundaries.

[moonlightwritingf1]

Just a Picture | LN4

⚘.ᥫ᭡⋆˚✿˖° summary ━━━━━━━ After four days of silence, Y/N was drowning in heartbreak, replaying the fight that started it all—a photo of Lando in a club, looking far too close to another girl. It triggered every insecurity she'd tried to bury, and when she confronted him, things spiraled—accusations, shouting, even a panicked flinch that neither of them could forget. Then he showed up at her apartment, looking just as wrecked as she felt, desperate to explain, desperate not to lose her. 

⚘.ᥫ᭡⋆˚✿˖° pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

⚘.ᥫ᭡⋆˚✿˖° word count ━━━━━━━ 10k

⚘.ᥫ᭡⋆˚✿˖° warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, multiple orgasms, oral sex (f and m receiving), creampie?, slow sex, lots of 'I love you's

⚘.ᥫ᭡⋆˚✿˖° author's note ━━━━━━━ I guess this can be part 2 to The One He Couldn't Let Go if you squint a bit.

Based on this request.

It was late afternoon. Y/N was in her apartment, the dark clouds outside mirroring the storm brewing in her thoughts. She paced across the polished hardwood floor, arms folded tightly over her chest, her posture radiating tension. The living area—modern décor, a minimalist gray couch, glass coffee table, and tall bookshelves filled with novels—felt both too big and too small all at once.

Her phone lay face-down on the dining table, silent for the past three days. Not a single call from him since that explosive argument. She glanced at it again, half-hoping it would light up, but it remained still. She bit her lower lip, trying not to let the swirl of angst devour her. The image from that damned photo online had replayed in her head non-stop. Just a random snapshot—but enough to trigger months of tension that had been quietly building between them.

A year ago, when she first met Lando, she had never imagined she could be standing in this place—both physically, in her apartment, and emotionally, consumed by heartbreak so intense that it threatened to break her from the inside. And yet, she remembered how it all started. He had breezed into her life, courtesy of a mutual friend, with that mischievous grin and those unexpectedly soft, bright eyes that seemed to look right through her. At first, she’d tried to keep her distance. He was a playboy, or so all the rumors said. She had read the articles, seen the gossip, heard the stories from random acquaintances who claimed they knew him. She doubted he was the type to stay faithful. She doubted he was the type to take relationships seriously, given all that she’d heard about his partying, about the way he used to message random girls on Instagram. It was the exact opposite of everything she wanted or needed.

Yet he had pursued her relentlessly. Flowers would show up at her apartment every week—delicate bouquets of roses, peonies, lilies. Expensive gifts, random text messages in the middle of the day just to say he was thinking of her. He found out about her favorite authors and sent her limited-edition books. He discovered her love for certain designer bags and surprised her with them, even though she told him a hundred times that she didn’t want him to waste money on her. She had tried to play hard to get; she had shut him down over and over, telling him that she wasn’t convinced, that he’d break her heart. She had tried to remind herself that once upon a time he had been in a relationship, still rumored to be cheating, going to clubs, and partying with random women. All the gossip. All the pictures. She didn’t want that kind of heartbreak. She believed he would revert to his old ways at any moment.

But then, five months ago, she finally gave in. Five months that had begun the strangest, most wonderful, and most complicated relationship she had ever experienced. From that moment, everything between them had been intense, nearly suffocating in its passion, overshadowed by her lingering doubts and his determination to prove her wrong. Every kiss felt like a confession of how badly he wanted her to trust him. Every time he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, she glimpsed in his eyes a silent plea that she believed in him. And slowly, she had begun to let her guard down. She let him in further than she had let anyone before.

That is, until four days ago, when her phone blew up with messages and notifications from mutual friends, from acquaintances who had seen it on social media: a photograph of Lando in a club with an unknown girl pressed very close to him. The angle of the camera made it look suggestive, as if he were leaning down into her ear, or maybe even nuzzling her neck. The girl’s arm was around his shoulders, and it looked like she was whispering intimately to him. The moment Y/N saw it, her stomach dropped. She hadn’t known rage so pure, not since childhood memories that she tried to bury. And in that moment, every single doubt she’d ever had about him came roaring back. She confronted him that night in her apartment, the memory of that confrontation still burned into the walls.

–

Four Nights Ago – The Fight

The moment Lando stepped into her living room, Y/N’s hands were shaking from anger. She had texted him: We need to talk. Now. And he’d come over immediately, wearing an expression of anxiety mixed with confusion. He must have known the rumors were swirling online.

“What the hell is that?” she demanded, pointing her phone at him, screen displaying the offending photograph. She didn’t realize she was almost yelling from the get-go. “Care to explain, Lando?”

He swallowed hard. His cheeks reddened. She wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or guilt or both. “It’s… nothing,” he said, raising his palms defensively. “That picture—God, I didn’t even know someone snapped that. It’s not what it looks like.”

Her words came out in a hot rush, unfiltered. “Oh, it’s not? Because it looks like you’re cozying up to some random girl at a club—just like the old days, right?” She breathed in sharply, unable to stop the venom streaming out. “I knew it. I always knew you’d go back to your old ways sooner or later.”

He stepped closer, frustration written on his face. “I wasn’t cozying up to her. She was a friend of a friend. I was leaning down to hear what she was saying because the music was too loud. That’s it. It’s a stupid camera angle.”

“Camera angle,” she repeated mockingly. “Right. Always an excuse. You act like I don’t know you have this… this history. Messaging random girls. Sleeping around. Even when you were with someone, the rumors said—”

“Rumors!” he interjected, voice cracking with frustration. “They were just rumors! I told you a hundred times, I never cheated on anyone. If I had a reputation for partying, it was because I was young, going to clubs, sure, but I wasn’t hooking up with every girl who came near me. And I’m sure as hell not hooking up with them now!”

Her face twisted with anger she couldn’t contain. “Don’t you dare lie to me. You know how insecure I already feel. You know what I’ve been through, Lando!” Her eyes welled with tears, but she blinked them back, refusing to cry. “You should’ve been more careful. You should have thought about how that picture would look. How it would make me feel.”

He ran a hand through his curls, agitated. “For God’s sake, Y/N, I can’t control every photo or every rumor. I’m an F1 driver. People take pictures. I’m sorry that it happened, but I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Sure. Just like you never did anything wrong all those other times you got plastered with groups of girls, right? God, how am I supposed to believe you, Lando?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. She could see him holding back his own anger. “Because,” he replied in a voice that trembled with repressed fury, “I’ve been bending over backward for months trying to prove to you that I’m not that guy. Do you think I spend all this time showering you with gifts, messages, and time, just so I can go out and hook up with random girls? That’s not me anymore!”

he shook her head, her voice laced with contempt that came from the deepest pit of her insecurities. “We can never know for sure, can we? God, I can’t stand the idea that I let you in, and you do something like this.”

He took another step toward her, eyes flashing. “Don’t put this all on me. You came into this relationship—if we can call it that—assuming the worst about me. I’m always on trial with you, Y/N. You never truly trust me.”

She let out a bitter laugh. “Well, if you want my trust, then don’t get photographed cuddling with random girls!”

He breathed heavily, exasperation rolling off him. “I told you, it wasn’t cuddling. And I can’t believe you’d think I would cheat on you. After everything we’ve shared.”

For a long moment, they stared at each other, hearts pounding, both of them caught in the throes of powerful, conflicting emotions. Then she lifted her chin, refusing to budge. “Get out,” she said quietly, but her tone was menacing in its finality.

He froze. “Y/N, please. Don’t do this.”

She shook her head. Her vision blurred as tears threatened to spill again. “Get. Out. Now.”

Lando’s expression turned furious and wounded. “Fine,” he spat. “If you won’t even listen to me, what the hell am I supposed to do?” In his frustration, he flung his arm up, wanting to run his hand through his hair, but in that split second, it looked like his hand was coming toward her in a fast, menacing way.

She recoiled instantly, a panicked flinch, arms defensively curling toward her face, eyes wide in fear. A rush of adrenaline spiked through her. It was so fast, so involuntary, as if a primal reflex told her that he was about to hit her.

His entire demeanor changed in an instant. The anger drained from his face, replaced by a haunting sorrow. “Y/N,” he whispered, voice breaking. “You think… you think I would—?”

She just stared at him, still trembling. She hated that her body had interpreted his movement as a threat. “I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, guilt mixing with the cocktail of fury and heartbreak in her chest. “I— I just… you moved so fast.”

He took a shaky step backward, heartbreak contorting his features. “I would never lay a hand on you,” he said, voice trembling. “How could you even think—?”

She pressed her lips together, her cheeks burning with shame. But the anger was still there, too, overshadowing everything. “Just get out,” she repeated.

He stared at her for a few long seconds, pain written on every line of his face. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel, storming out of the apartment. She heard the door slam behind him. It left her standing alone in the silent living room, her heart pounding loud enough that she thought it might burst through her chest. She sank onto the couch, tears finally spilling.

–

The Four Days of Silence

Now she was on day four without a call, text, or anything from Lando. At first, she’d been so angry she told herself she wouldn’t care if he never reached out again. But after the first 24 hours, the doubts crawled in. Had she overreacted? Was that truly just an innocent picture? She battled with herself over and over, replaying the confrontation in her head, fixating on the moment he raised his arm to push his hair back—how she flinched, how his eyes turned to raw agony.

Guilt ate away at her. Yet the betrayal—and the fear that he was still that same playboy—remained. She wasn’t sure she could handle being with someone who always had rumors swirling around. It was making her question everything.

But she also missed him. Terribly. She missed his laugh, that boyish grin in the morning when he’d wake up next to her, the way he’d wrap his arms around her waist from behind while she was doing something mundane like making coffee. She missed how he would gently brush his fingertips down her cheek while watching TV, how he was always so enthusiastic about introducing her to his friends—well, the few times she’d let herself be around his circle. She missed that warmth and attention, how being with him made her feel alive in a way she hadn’t felt in a long while.

Late into the nights, she lay awake in her bed, staring at the city lights, tears wet on her cheeks, imagining him in Monaco or at his family’s home, maybe even with that unknown girl. The worst part was that she realized, in her chest, that she truly loved him. A truth she had tried to ignore because acknowledging it made her feel so vulnerable.

She hated herself for flinching, for letting him see that she thought he could physically harm her. She knew enough about him by now to know he wasn’t violent. That flash of panic had come from a dark place in her mind, shaped by her insecurities. She didn’t know if he’d ever forgive her for that. Or if she could ever forgive him for being so careless in that photo.

Day three passed. Then day four. She was pushing through work, eyes rimmed with dark circles from lack of sleep, snapping at her coworkers who asked too many questions, trying to bury herself in spreadsheets and emails.

–

The Afternoon of the Fourth Day

She had just gotten back to her apartment after another draining day at the office. She kicked off her heels by the front door, passing the large mirror in the entrance hallway. She lingered a moment, studying her reflection—searching for something she could never quite name. She tried to straighten her shoulders, to seem more composed than she felt, but the familiar ache of doubt had already settled in.

She always worried that Lando, with his flirty ways and well-known preference for a certain type, would eventually look at her and realize she wasn’t enough. It hurt that she cared so deeply about this. She hated that she cared. She wanted to be that fierce girl who didn’t need anyone’s validation. But with him, she felt so out of control sometimes—like all the confidence she’d tried to build kept slipping through her fingers the moment he smiled at someone else.

Letting out a shaky breath, she headed to her bedroom, planning to change into something more comfortable, maybe sweatpants and an oversized tee. She rounded the corner into her living room—and froze.

Lando was there, standing by the window, looking out across the glittering skyline of London. He had his luggage next to him, as if he had come straight from the airport or something. Her heart jumped to her throat. Anger, relief, love, and pain swirled inside her so violently that she couldn’t even speak for a moment. 

He turned at the sound of her footsteps, eyes meeting hers. She saw the exhaustion on his face, the shadows under his eyes. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days either. His hair was disheveled, the curls an unruly mess, and he wore a fitted black hoodie and gray joggers. Under normal circumstances, the sight of him might have made her breath catch with desire, but now, there was only tension.

They stared at each other in silence. Her eyes filled with tears again. She loathed that she cried so easily these days. “How did you get in?” she finally managed, her voice cold.

“I still have the key,” he replied quietly. “You didn’t ask for it back.”

She swallowed. Right. She hadn’t. Maybe that was a subconscious sign she wanted him to return. “You can’t just barge in here.”

“I didn’t know how else to see you,” he said, voice trembling with raw honesty. “You wouldn’t answer my calls or texts. I kept sending messages the first two days, you never replied. I got scared you’d blocked me, or that you never wanted to see me again.”

She scoffed, though hearing he’d tried to call made her guilt spike. She had left her phone on silent, or face-down, ignoring the messages—convinced she had to remain strong. “And so you decided to ambush me at home?”

He clenched his jaw, taking a step forward. “I couldn’t stand the silence anymore, Y/N. It’s been killing me.” He paused, searching her face with a mixture of desperation and anger. “I’m sorry for everything. But you have to understand, that picture—it was nothing. And I hate that you believed otherwise. It feels like you don’t trust me at all.”

“Because you’ve given me reasons to doubt,” she snapped, tears threatening to spill once more. “I’ve seen the rumors, the pictures, the girls you used to be with. I can’t— I don’t know how to handle it. It hurts to even think about. I can’t stand the idea of being compared to those bikini-model types you used to party with.”

His eyes widened. “Compared to them? Y/N, I’ve never once compared you to anyone. I—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, I know I made mistakes in my past. I slept around. I partied. But that was before. This last year has changed me, especially these five months with you.” He paused, voice trembling, “I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”

Her throat was tight. She exhaled slowly, all the anger and hurt rising again. “Then why did that picture look so—so intimate?”

He rubbed his face. “I was talking to that girl. She was leaning in because the music was loud. I wasn’t even there for long. I’d gone out with some mates, had a few drinks, and left early. I swear to you, I wasn’t flirting or anything close to that.”

She folded her arms protectively, glowering. “And I’m just supposed to believe that?”

He looked at her with a heartbreak so profound that her stomach twisted. “I wish you would,” he whispered. “Because it’s true.”

She stared at the floor, tension coursing through her. The silence pressed down on them. She recalled the image of his arm moving up four nights ago, the absolute terror she felt, that flicker of fear that he might hurt her physically. She forced her eyes up to his. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, voice catching. “For thinking you’d hit me.”

His face contorted with anguish. “That… that moment,” he said, voice shaking, “I can’t even describe how it felt to see you flinch like that. Like you believed I could do something so horrible.”

She sucked in a breath, her lips quivering. “I just—I don’t know what came over me. It was a reflex. But everything else I meant. I can’t stand the way you have these shady pictures circulating. The rumors. And I hate feeling like I’m one in a long line of random women in your life. It eats me alive.”

His eyes were red, and he seemed to hold himself back from crossing the room to comfort her. “You’re not just another woman,” he said, voice brimming with emotion. “I would never see you that way. I love you, damn it. Don’t you get it? You’re everything to me.”

She swallowed, her heart thumping so loud it filled her ears. “You say that,” she answered raggedly, “but it’s so easy to say. What if you get bored, or you find someone else, or you want someone who wears skimpier clothes—someone who has the perfect body or an easier attitude?”

He scoffed softly, a pained look crossing his face. “Skimpier clothes? You think I care about that? Y/N, I love you for you. You can wear a shapeless potato sack, and I’d still think you’re breathtaking.” He licked his lips, stepping closer, but still leaving a couple feet of space, as if cautious not to invade her bubble if she didn’t want it. “I don’t want any other woman. I want you. I hate that all these rumors, these illusions, keep driving a wedge between us.”

She turned away, crossing to the couch. She rested her palms on the back of it, trying to steady her breathing, trying not to let the tears fall. “I can’t… forget. When I see pictures like that, it’s like a knife to the chest.”

He came up behind her, so close she could feel the warmth of his body. Very gently, he placed a hand on her shoulder. She stiffened, but she didn’t pull away. “Y/N, I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I wish I could erase my past. I wish I could protect you from seeing that photo. But I can’t. All I can do is promise you I wasn’t cheating, nor do I ever want to.”

Anger still simmered beneath her skin, but she also felt the longing, the deep ache to reconcile with him. She wanted to lash out, to blame him, but she was so damn tired of fighting herself and him. She turned around slowly, looking up at him. “Why didn’t you call me sooner?” she asked hoarsely, tears pooling in her eyes. “Why didn’t you show up earlier?”

He inhaled sharply. “I tried calling. When you didn’t answer, I was worried you’d blocked me or that you needed space. I also needed to cool down. After how we yelled at each other, I— I was afraid you wouldn’t even look at me.” A trembling laugh escaped him. “I didn’t want to drive you further away. But last night, I realized I couldn’t handle another hour without trying to see you. So I packed my bag and flew here this morning.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, fresh tears running down. “I hate you,” she whispered, though her tone was heartbreakingly vulnerable, betraying how she felt the exact opposite.

He grimaced, eyes moist. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again. “I’ll do anything to make this right.”

For a moment, she couldn’t respond. She just stared at him through the haze of tears. Something inside her cracked wide open—the dam that had been holding in all the emotion. In one swift motion, she lunged forward, wrapping her arms around him, pressing her face into his chest. She felt his heart hammering beneath her cheek.

He hesitated only a split second before he crushed her against him, his arms wrapping around her waist so tightly as if he was afraid she’d slip away at any moment. The tears she’d been holding back poured out, and she felt his body shaking too. They stood there, locked in an embrace that trembled with raw anguish.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled again into her hair, kissing the top of her head. “I’m so sorry.”

“I hate that you made me doubt you,” she whispered, voice muffled by his shirt. “And I hate that I’m so insecure. But most of all, I hate that… I can’t let you go.” She let out a choked sob, closing her eyes. “I love you too. And it hurts so bad because I’m scared you’ll destroy me someday.”

He pressed his lips to her forehead. “I’d rather die than hurt you,” he said, voice cracking with sincerity. “I’d rather die than lose you.”

The tension and heartbreak in the air shifted palpably, turning into a different kind of electricity. They pulled back just enough to look at each other, eyes red-rimmed and puffy. Their faces were inches apart, breath intermingling. Then, wordlessly, as if drawn by a magnetic force, their lips collided in a fierce, desperate kiss.

She tasted salt from her tears as he kissed her, but the urgency in the press of his mouth overwhelmed her senses. Her hands slid up around his neck, fingers tangling in his curls. He held her face between his palms as though she were something delicate—yet the kiss itself was anything but gentle. It was raw, intense, filled with the pent-up longing of four days of agony and an entire relationship’s worth of insecurities.

They broke apart for a brief moment, gasping for air, foreheads touching as they tried to form words. But no words came. Only that frantic hunger to feel close after so many days of pain and confusion. They resumed kissing, deeper this time, tongues and teeth clashing, breath ragged. She moaned softly against his mouth, her body igniting with the need to be consumed by him.

“Bedroom,” he rasped, pulling back just enough to speak. His eyes were dark with longing, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

She grabbed his hand and led him down the short hallway. The moment they entered her bedroom, the tension redoubled. Even the air felt charged. The blinds were half-drawn, letting in the golden glow of the late-afternoon sun. The duvet on her bed was slightly disheveled, and she had thrown some clothes on it earlier that morning. The entire room smelled like her faint vanilla perfume and the leftover anxiety of the last few days.

She turned to face him, breath quivering. He reached for her face, cupping her cheek. She looked up into his eyes, still rimmed with leftover hurt. She reached for his hoodie, and he helped yank it off, tossing it aside. The next second, he was kissing her again, guiding her toward the bed. He peeled off her blouse, his hands shaking with the intensity of the moment, exposing her skin to the cool air and his heated gaze.

His lips moved down her jaw, her neck, gently nipping at the sensitive flesh there, drawing out soft gasps. Her fingers fumbled with the waistband of his joggers, pulling them down. Every movement was frantic, desperate, as if they both knew that making up like this was both a healing and a reaffirmation of what they meant to each other.

She sank onto the bed, and he followed, settling above her. Their mouths found each other again in a searing kiss, tongues dancing as their bodies pressed together. She could feel his heart beating wildly. She let her hands roam over his torso, savoring the warmth of his skin, the muscle that flexed beneath her palms. He groaned into her mouth, his voice husky with need.

“God, I missed you,” he breathed. He lowered his head to kiss down her collarbone, his breath hot against her skin. “I was going crazy not hearing your voice.”

She arched against him, eyes fluttering shut, overwhelmed by how much she had missed him too. Her nails lightly raked his shoulders. “Don’t ever disappear on me again,” she murmured, breath hitching. “Don’t leave me like that.”

He lifted his head, meeting her gaze. The raw emotion in his eyes almost made her dizzy. “Never,” he promised, and he sealed the vow with a slow, deep kiss.

Their hands explored every inch of exposed skin, reacquainting themselves with each other’s bodies as though it had been years rather than mere days. Slowly, carefully, they stripped away the barriers of clothes. Each article of clothing fell to the floor or was pushed aside on the bed, along with the tensions and fears that had weighed on them. He caressed her curves, pressing gentle kisses to her hip, her waist, then trailing his lips up to her neck. She whimpered softly, allowing herself to be lost in the sensations.

He loomed above her, completely naked, his body trembling with the intensity of the moment. His hands slid down her arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, before he moved up her body again. His lips found hers in a searing kiss, hot and desperate, as if he were trying to make up for every second of the four days they’d spent apart. She moaned softly into his mouth, her hands tangling in his unruly curls, pulling him closer, as though she could fuse them together and never let him go again.

When he finally broke the kiss, his lips didn’t stray far. He kissed her cheeks, her forehead, her temples, each press of his mouth a silent apology, a promise, a plea. His breath was warm against her skin as he trailed kisses down her jawline, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below her ear. She shivered, a soft whimper escaping her lips as her head fell back against the pillows, her body arching instinctively toward him.

“Lando,” she breathed, her voice trembling with need.

He didn’t respond with words. Instead, he kissed across her collarbone, his hands moving down to her shoulders to steady her. His lips moved lower, leaving a trail of fire across her chest. He lingered there, his tongue darting out to taste her skin, his breath hitching as if he were savoring her. She could feel his hunger, his desperation, and it mirrored her own. When his mouth finally closed around her nipple, she gasped, her fingers tightening in his hair.

He sucked gently at first, teasing her, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud until she was squirming beneath him. Then he sucked harder, drawing a sharp cry from her lips. She could feel the heat pooling low in her stomach, her body responding to him as it always did, as if it were wired to crave him and him alone. His fingers found her other breast, kneading and teasing, and she moaned, her back arching off the bed.

“Lando,” she whispered again, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own ragged breathing.

He lifted his head, his eyes dark with desire, his lips swollen from kissing her. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice rough. “I can’t get enough of you.”

She reached up to touch his face, her thumb brushing over his cheekbone. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the weight of everything that had happened between them hanging in the air. But then he leaned down, capturing her lips in another kiss, and all the tension, all the doubt, melted away, replaced by an all-consuming need.

This time, when he pulled back, his hands moved to her hips, lifting her slightly so he could slide further down the bed. His lips trailed down her stomach, leaving a path of fire in their wake, and she shuddered, her hands clutching at the sheets. He kissed her hips, her thighs, his breath warm against her skin, and then his mouth was on her again, sucking and teasing, his tongue darting out to taste her.

She cried out, her hips bucking involuntarily, and he groaned against her, the sound vibrating through her, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body. His hands tightened on her hips, holding her still as he continued to worship her with his mouth, his tongue flicking over her sensitive flesh until she was trembling, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

“Lando,” she moaned, her voice breaking. “Please.”

Lando didn’t lift his head, not yet. His hands tightened on her hips as he leaned in, his tongue flicking out to trace the slick, sensitive folds of her pussy. He groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating against her, and she whimpered, her thighs trembling on either side of his head. He could taste her, her arousal, her need, and it drove him wild. He loved her like this, so open, so vulnerable, so completely his. His tongue delved deeper, exploring her, savoring her, and she cried out, her hands fisting in the sheets.

“So fucking sweet,” he murmured against her, his breath hot. “I could taste you forever.” His voice was rough, dripping with desire, and it sent a shiver up her spine. He pulled back slightly, his lips closing around her clit, and he sucked gently, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. She arched off the bed, her moans echoing through the room, and he groaned, the sound muffled against her.

He lifted his head just enough to speak, his lips glistening with her. “You taste like heaven,” he said, his voice low and reverent. “I fucking love your pussy, Y/N. I love how you writhe for me, how you moan for me.” He kissed her again, his tongue slipping inside her, and she gasped, her hips bucking against his face. He held her steady, his hands firm on her hips, as he drank her in, every sound, every taste, every shudder of her body.

He loved this—he lived for this. The way she fell apart for him, the way her breath hitched and her cries grew louder, the way she trembled when he touched her just right. He loved the way she moaned his name, the way she clutched at the sheets, the way she surrendered to him completely. He loved knowing that he could make her feel this good, that he could bring her to the edge and push her over, that he could make her his in every possible way.

His tongue flicked over her clit again, faster this time, more insistent, and her moans turned into desperate cries. “Lando—please—I’m so close,” she gasped, her voice breaking. He didn’t stop, didn’t slow down. He sucked her clit into his mouth, his tongue working her relentlessly, and she came with a sharp cry, her body convulsing, her hands clawing at the sheets. He didn’t let up, drinking in every drop of her release, until she was panting, her body limp and trembling.

He finally lifted his head, his lips wet, his eyes dark with satisfaction. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you come,” he said, his voice rough. He crawled up her body, his hands framing her face as he kissed her, letting her taste herself on his lips. “I love making you feel good,” he murmured against her mouth. “I love hearing you moan, feeling you shake, watching you fall apart for me.”

She reached for him, her hands trembling as she cupped his face. “You’re incredible,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “I love it when you worship me like that, when you make me feel like I’m the only thing that matters.” Her eyes were soft, filled with adoration, and he kissed her again, gently this time, savoring the way she melted into him.

“You are the only thing that matters,” he said, his voice low and earnest. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek. “I love you, Y/N. I love everything about you—your body, your mind, your soul. I love making you feel good, I love hearing you moan, I love watching you come. I love you.”

She smiled, a slow, sweet smile that made his heart ache. “I love you too,” she whispered. She pulled him down, her lips finding his, and they kissed, slow and deep, their bodies pressed together, their hearts beating in sync. For the first time in days, the world felt right again.

He pulled away from her lips reluctantly, his chest heaving, his cock throbbing between them as he hovered above her. “I need to be inside you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire. “I can’t wait anymore.” His hands gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her skin as he guided her closer to the edge of the bed, positioning himself between her legs.

But she shook her head, her eyes filled with need, her lips swollen from his kisses. “Not yet,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I need you in my mouth first. Please, Lando. Let me taste you.”

He groaned, his head falling back as he fought for control. “Fuck, Y/N—I want to be in you. I’ve been waiting for this for days.”

Her hands slid down his chest, her nails lightly scratching his skin as she moved lower, her fingers wrapping around his hard cock. He hissed at the touch, his hips jerking forward instinctively. “I know,” she said, her voice soft but insistent. “But I need this. I need to feel you in my mouth. Let me, please. I’ll make it good for you.”

He looked down at her, his eyes burning with desire and frustration. She was begging him, her voice dripping with need, and he couldn’t deny her. Not when she looked up at him like that—with those pleading eyes. “Fuck,” he muttered, his resolve crumbling. “Just—just for a minute. Then I’m inside you.”

She didn’t waste another second. Lando lay back on the bed, his head resting on the pillows, his chest rising and falling rapidly as she positioned herself between his legs. His cock was already leaking precum, the tip glistening, and she could feel him twitch in her hand as she stroked him slowly. She licked her lips, her mouth watering at the sight of him, at the thought of tasting him, of feeling him on her tongue.

Without hesitation, without teasing, she took him into her mouth, her lips wrapping around his shaft, her tongue swirling around the sensitive head. He groaned loudly, his hands fisting in the sheets as she sucked him deep, her head bobbing up and down in a steady rhythm. One hand rested on his inner thigh, her fingers digging into his skin, while the other stroked the base of his cock in time with her movements.

She looked up at him, her eyes locked on his as she sucked him, her lips stretched around his length. The sight of her—her lips wrapped around his cock, her eyes filled with hunger—was almost too much for him. His hips jerked forward involuntarily, and she moaned around him, the sound vibrating through him, sending jolts of pleasure racing down his spine.

“Look at you,” he breathed, his voice rough with arousal. “Fuck, you’re so sexy like this. You love having my cock in your mouth, don’t you? You’re such a good girl for me, Y/N. Such a fucking slut for my dick.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t stop. She loved when he talked dirty to her, when he called her his slut, his good girl. It made her feel wanted, desired, and it only made her suck him harder, her movements becoming more desperate, more eager. Her hand moved from his inner thigh to his balls, her fingers gently massaging them as she continued to suck him, her lips and tongue working him relentlessly.

She could feel him throbbing in her mouth, could taste the saltiness of his precum on her tongue, and it only made her want him more. She loved the way he felt in her mouth, the way he filled her, the way he made her feel so alive, so connected to him. She loved the way he moaned her name, the way his hands tightened in the sheets as he tried to hold himself back. She loved the way he looked at her, his eyes filled with desire, his breath hitching as she sucked him.

For Lando, it was almost too much. The sight of her—her lips wrapped around his cock, her eyes filled with hunger, her hand stroking him, her fingers massaging his balls—was driving him wild. He loved seeing her like this, so turned on, so eager for him. It made him feel powerful, desired, and it made him want to give her everything she begged for. He loved the way she looked at him, her eyes locked on his as she sucked him, as if she couldn’t get enough of him. He loved the way she moaned around him, the way her body trembled with need. She was his, and he loved every fucking second of it.

But he couldn’t let himself come—not yet. He wanted to be inside her, to feel her tight, wet pussy around him as he spilled himself deep inside her. He gently pushed her away, his hands trembling as he gripped her shoulders. “Enough,” he said, his voice rough with need. “I need to be inside you. Now.”

She pulled back, her lips swollen, her breathing ragged, her eyes filled with longing. “Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling with desire. “Please. I need you.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His hands moved with purpose, gripping her hips firmly as he manhandled her onto her back again, her body sinking into the mattress. She gasped, her hands instinctively reaching for him as he positioned himself above her, his weight pressing her into the bed. His eyes locked onto hers, intense, brimming with something deeper than desire—something raw, emotional, and unspoken. He hovered for a moment, his breath ragged, his chest heaving, before he shifted, guiding himself toward her entrance.

She felt the tip of him brush against her, hot and insistent, and a shiver of anticipation ran through her. He paused, his hands framing her face as he leaned down, his forehead pressing against hers. She could feel the tremble in his body, the way he was holding himself back, trying to control the primal urge to claim her. His breath mingled with hers, shaky and uneven, as he whispered, “I love you, Y/N. So fucking much.”

And then, slowly, achingly slow, he entered her. She felt every inch of him as he pushed inside, her body stretching to accommodate him, the sensation both overwhelming and electrifying. She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to steady her breathing. It wasn’t just the physical sensation that made her head spin—it was the way he looked at her, his eyes never leaving hers, his expression a mix of reverence and desperation. It felt like he wasn’t just entering her body; he was reclaiming her heart, her soul, every piece of her that had been fractured by distance and doubt.

For Lando, the moment was equally intense. The warmth of her body enveloped him, tight and welcoming, and he groaned, his head falling forward as he fought to keep his movements slow, controlled. He could feel her trembling beneath him, her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps, and it made him ache with a need that went far beyond physical. He wanted to lose himself in her, to drown in the way she felt around him, but more than that, he wanted her to know how much she meant to him. How much he loved her. How he’d do anything to keep her, to protect her, to make her feel cherished.

He stayed inside her, not moving, his body flush against hers, their breaths mingling as they stared into each other’s eyes. The stillness was charged, electric, as if the world had paused just for them. She could feel him twitching inside her, the way his body seemed to throb with the effort of holding back, and it made her ache with a need that was almost unbearable. “Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling, her hands clutching at his back. “Please… move. I need you.”

But he shook his head, his hands cupping her face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had started to fall. “Not yet,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “I want to take my time with you. I want to show you how much I love you, Y/N. How much you mean to me.” His words were soft, tender, but there was a fire behind them that made her heart race. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a slow, deep kiss, his tongue exploring hers as if he were trying to memorize every inch of her.

He pulled back just enough to whisper against her lips, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. I’m yours. Always.” His voice broke on the last word, and she could feel the sincerity in it, the weight of his promise. It was as if he were trying to pour every ounce of his love, his devotion, into that one moment.

She whimpered, her hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. “I love you,” she whispered back, her voice trembling with emotion. “I missed you so much. Please, Lando… don’t let go.”

He kissed her again, his movements slow and deliberate, his hands roaming her body with a reverence that made her heart ache. He worshiped her with his touch, his lips, his words, as if every inch of her were sacred. His hands slid down her sides, smoothing over her skin, before he cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples in slow, teasing circles. She arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips as her body responded to him instinctively.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and rough as he leaned down to kiss her neck, her collarbone, the sensitive spot just below her ear. His lips were warm, his breath hot against her skin, and she shivered, her hands tightening in his hair. He took his time, exploring every inch of her with a patience that made her ache. 

“Lando,” she breathed, her voice pleading, her hands tugging at his hair. “Please… I need you. I need you to move.”

But he shook his head again, his hands sliding down to her hips, gripping her firmly as he pulled back slightly, just enough to look into her eyes. “I’m not going to rush this,” he said, his voice steady despite the fire burning in his gaze. “I want to make this last. I want to make you feel how much I love you, Y/N. How much I’ve missed you.”

His words were a balm to her soul, soothing the raw edges of her heart, but they also made her ache with need. She could feel him inside her, hot and thick, twitching with every breath, and it was maddening to have him so close, so still. “Please,” she begged, her voice breaking, her hips lifting slightly in an attempt to get him to move. “Please, Lando… I need you to fuck me. I need you to make me feel good.”

He groaned, his hips jerking forward involuntarily at her words, but he held himself back, his hands tightening on her hips. “I will,” he promised, his voice rough with desire. “But not yet. I want to savor this. I want to savor you.”

She whimpered, her nails digging into his back as she tried to pull him closer, but he stayed still, his eyes locked on hers, his expression filled with a tenderness that made her heart ache. She loved this side of him—the way he could be so soft, so gentle, even in moments of intense passion. It made her feel cherished, adored, and it made her love him even more.

Finally, he began to move, his hips rocking against hers in slow, deliberate thrusts. The sensation was maddening, each movement drawing a soft cry from her lips as she writhed beneath him. He kept his pace slow, his eyes never leaving hers, his hands moving to cup her face as he leaned down to kiss her again. His lips were warm, his tongue exploring hers in a way that made her head spin, and she moaned into his mouth, her hands clutching at his shoulders.

For her, the slow, deliberate movements were both agonizing and intoxicating. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through her, the sensation building slowly, steadily, until she felt like she might explode. She could feel him inside her, hot and thick, filling her completely, and it made her ache with a need that was almost unbearable. She wanted more—needed more—but he held back, his movements controlled, his eyes filled with a tenderness that made her heart ache.

For Lando, the slow pace was equally intense. He could feel her around him, tight and warm, and it took every ounce of his self-control to keep from losing himself in her. He wanted to savor this moment, to make it last, to show her how much she meant to him. He wanted to worship her, to make her feel loved, cherished, adored. And he knew that the only way to do that was to take his time, to draw out every second, to make her feel every ounce of his love.

He kissed her again, his lips moving against hers in a slow, deep rhythm that matched the pace of his thrusts. “I love you,” he whispered against her lips, his voice trembling with emotion. “I love you so much, Y/N. I’m never letting you go.”

She whimpered, her hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as she kissed him back with a desperation that mirrored his own. “I love you too,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Please, Lando… don’t stop.”

He didn’t. He kept his pace slow, deliberate, his thrusts deep and steady as he continued to worship her with his body, his touch, his words. He kept kissing her neck, her collarbone, her shoulders, his lips lingering on every inch of her skin as if he were trying to memorize her. His hands roamed her body, exploring every curve, every dip, as if he were trying to commit her to memory.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire as he leaned down to kiss her again. “I can’t get enough of you, Y/N. I never will.”

She moaned, her hands clutching at his back as she arched into his touch, her body responding to him instinctively. The slow, steady rhythm of his thrusts was driving her wild, the sensation building slowly, steadily, until she felt like she might explode. “Lando,” she gasped, her voice trembling with need. “Please… I’m so close.”

He kissed her again, his movements never faltering as he held himself above her, his eyes locked on hers. “Let go, baby,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “I’ve got you. I’ll always have you.”

And with those words, she shattered, her body convulsing as she clung to him, her cries muffled against his chest. He held her through it, his thrusts never faltering as he continued to drive her over the edge, his own release building steadily until he could no longer hold back. With a low groan, he pressed his face into her neck, his body shaking as he spilled himself inside her, his breath hot against her skin.

For a long moment, they stayed like that, their bodies trembling, their breaths mingling as they held onto each other. The room was silent except for the sound of their breathing, the air thick with the weight of everything they had shared, everything they had overcome.

Slowly, he pulled back, looking down at her with an aching tenderness she had never seen so plainly before. He brushed damp hair off her forehead, trailing a thumb across her cheek.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice a low rasp in the hush of the room. “I love you so much. And I’m so sorry for everything.”

She exhaled shakily, caressing the side of his face. “I’m sorry, too,” she murmured. “I got so consumed by anger and jealousy. I should have let you explain calmly. And I… I should never have doubted that you’d raise a hand to me.”

He shook his head, kissing her temple. “You have nothing to apologize for. Your fears come from a real place. I just want to do better for you. I never want you to think I could hurt you.” He swallowed hard. “I’m terrified of losing you.”

She stared up into his eyes, seeing the layers of heartbreak there. “Don’t do anything that makes me doubt you again, Lando. Please,” she whispered, her voice wavering. “I can’t take this kind of fight again.”

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “I promise,” he said. “And if something comes up—pictures, rumors, anything—please talk to me before letting it build up in your head. I’ll tell you everything.”

She nodded, tears threatening once more, but they didn’t spill. “Okay,” she agreed softly.

They settled into a quiet embrace, his arm draped over her waist, her head on his chest. She could hear the steady rhythm of his heart, each beat reassuring her that he was here and that he wasn’t letting go. Outside, the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in pink and orange hues that filtered into the room. For a time, neither of them spoke, letting the warmth of each other’s bodies and the lingering afterglow of their fierce coupling do the talking.

Eventually, their breathing evened out, and Lando shifted to lie on his side, propping his head on one hand so he could look at her fully. She blushed slightly, tugging the sheets up to cover herself, though he’d already seen every inch. Her hair was a tangled mess, and her lips felt tender from the rough kisses.

He reached out to tuck a stray strand behind her ear. “You’re so beautiful,” he said quietly.

She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks warmed. “Don’t,” she mumbled. “I’m not—”

“You are,” he insisted. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. Your body, your face, your heart… it’s all incredible to me.”

“Stop flattering me,” she murmured, but she couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips. His genuine admiration always made her heart skip a beat.

He gave her a half-smile, though there was still a hint of sadness in his eyes. “We have to talk, you know,” he said softly. “We can’t just… pretend the argument didn’t happen.”

She nodded, the smile fading as she remembered the fiery fight. “I know.”

He took a deep breath, shifting closer so their foreheads nearly touched. “I hate that my past makes you feel insecure. But it’s my past. I can’t change it, no matter how badly I wish I could.” He placed a hand gently on her hip. “I need you to understand that I’m not that guy anymore. Maybe I was reckless before, a little shallow. But I’m not the same person I was a year or two years ago.”

She chewed her lip, eyes drifting to where her hand lay over his on the bed. “I guess a part of me thinks that once a player, always a player,” she admitted. “Like, if you’ve done it once, you’ll do it again. But I know that’s not fair. People can change.”

His fingers squeezed hers lightly. “I don’t want anyone else. I know you might find it hard to believe, but it’s true. I’m not going to ruin this for some random stranger in a club.” He paused, voice growing thick with emotion. “I love you, Y/N. I love your fierceness, your shy smiles, your sarcastic quips, how you refuse to let me pay for everything even though I want to spoil you. I love the way you get all excited about a new book or a new recipe you learned. I love your body, every curve, every inch, how it feels like you were made to fit in my arms.”

She drew in a shaky breath, tears gathering again. “Lando…”

He nodded, blinking back his own moisture. “So trust me, please. Talk to me if you feel suspicious. Don’t bottle it up until it explodes. Because I can’t go another four days like this. It was pure hell.”

She closed her eyes, exhaling. “I’m sorry I shut you out,” she whispered, voice trembling. “And I’ll… I’ll try. I don’t want to go through this either. I just need reassurance. Because my insecurities are… they’re crippling sometimes. Seeing that picture brought back every fear I had.”

He cupped her cheek gently. “I get it. And I’ll do my best to reassure you. Always.”

They shared a tender kiss, a silent pact to communicate better, to lean on each other instead of letting the fear linger. After a few more minutes of hushed conversation, she excused herself to use the bathroom, to freshen up.

Stepping into the attached en-suite, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror: flushed cheeks, swollen lips, hair in wild mess. She splashed cool water on her face, trying to calm the roiling emotions. She felt lighter somehow, as if her chest wasn’t as constricted. He was here, in her home, in her bed, and they’d just poured out so many painful feelings. But they’d also reconnected intimately, forging a new bond in the midst of all the anguish.

Yet a small flicker of doubt still lingered. She wondered if she could truly accept the rumors that might come in the future—pictures of him with fans, random girls in clubs, or women who found him attractive. He was an F1 driver, he was famous, and she couldn’t shield him from the outside world. She swallowed hard, telling herself that if she truly loved him, and if he truly loved her, they would find a way through it.

When she returned, dressed in a fresh tee and shorts, she found him sitting on her bed, having pulled on his boxers. The bedside lamp was on, illuminating the curve of his shoulders, the slight slump as he stared at his phone. He looked up the moment she stepped in.

“Everything okay?” she asked softly, noticing his phone in his hand.

He grimaced. “Max and a couple of the other guys are freaking out because I went off the grid. I told them I needed time to sort this out.”

She nodded, crossing to the bed, settling beside him. “I’m sorry if I caused you trouble.”

He shook his head. “No, don’t apologize for that. They were worried, but now that I told them I’m with you, they’re pretty much leaving me alone.”

She reached for his phone, pressing the lock button so the screen went dark, then set it aside on the nightstand. “You’re here with me now,” she said quietly. “Focus on that.”

He exhaled, nodding. Then his eyes flickered to the faint bruise on her wrist, a small mark she’d gotten from accidentally knocking her hand against a table the day before. She saw him stare with concern. “What’s that?”

She glanced at it. “Oh, that’s nothing. I bumped into something at work. I’m clumsy.”

He lightly brushed his thumb over the bruise, then lifted her hand and kissed the spot gently. The tender gesture made her chest tighten. His gaze moved up to hers, intense. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, “for scaring you the other night. I haven’t gotten that out of my head. The way you flinched…”

A wave of guilt crashed over her. “Lando, I said I’m sorry. It’s not you—it’s my own fear. I just reacted.”

“But the fact that you could even think I’d—” He exhaled unsteadily, closing his eyes. “I promise I’ll never move that way again. I’ll be mindful. I don’t want to trigger that reflex or make you think—”

She slid her arms around him, pulling him into a hug. “No. Don’t change how you move or exist in the world,” she whispered, voice thick with regret. “It was my own trauma or fear or something. But I know you’d never do that to me, logically. My body just panicked.”

He nodded, holding her close. “Okay,” he said softly. “But if you ever feel scared, tell me. I’ll do everything in my power to make you feel safe.”

They stayed like that for a long time, arms wrapped around each other on the bed, the soft glow of the lamp creating a cocoon of intimacy. She felt his heartbeat slow as he relaxed in her arms, his breathing growing calmer. She gently stroked the back of his neck, and he exhaled against her shoulder.

Finally, she drew back slightly, looking into his face. “You haven’t eaten, have you?”

He shook his head, giving her a wry smile. “No. I came straight here from the airport, then… all this happened.”

She offered a small smile in return. “I’ll order us takeout. Thai or pizza?”

He shrugged. “Anything you like. Though I’m kind of craving noodles.”

She nodded, picking up her phone from the nightstand, scrolling through her food delivery apps. Within minutes, she placed an order for a selection of Thai dishes. Then she set her phone aside again.

Lando let out a soft chuckle. “I can’t believe we went from screaming at each other to ordering noodles. My head’s spinning.”

She gave a humorless laugh. “Yeah, it’s been a rollercoaster.” Her features turned somber as she looked at him. “Do you regret coming here?”

He reached for her hand, entwining their fingers. “Not in the slightest. I want to fix things with you more than anything.”

A gentle silence fell over them, broken only by the hum of the city outside. She cuddled closer, resting her head against his shoulder. Despite the leftover ache, a sense of relief washed over her. He was here. They were together, speaking, touching, and trying to heal.