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moonlightwritingf1 · 4 months ago

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The One He Couldn’t Let Go | LN4

💋 summary ━━━━━━━ Y/N never meant to fall for Lando Norris—the F1 driver with a reputation for flings and flirtations. For nine long months, she kept him at arm’s length, refusing his gifts, dodging his calls, and shielding herself behind sarcasm and silence. But his persistence never wavered. Caught between desire and fear, she struggles to believe a man like him could ever want a woman like her—normal, guarded, imperfect. When jealousy explodes into confrontation and passion gives way to vulnerability, their complicated history threatens to burn everything down… unless she’s brave enough to let herself be loved.

💋 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

💋 word count ━━━━━━━ 13.5k

💋 warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, multiple orgasms, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, cum on tits

Based on this request.

At an intimidating height, near the top floors, a single unit’s lights glowed brightly against the dark evening. From the outside, one could only imagine the warmth within. Inside that apartment, Y/N stood in her living room, peering down at the cityscape far below.

She could see the flickering reflections of the streetlights dancing on the surface of the river. Her viewpoint was dizzying—a perk of her two-bedroom high-rise apartment. The interior was spacious, the open-plan living room flowing seamlessly into a modern kitchen with sleek countertops and minimalist furniture. The day’s accumulation of tasks was scattered across the dining table: her laptop, paperwork, and a half-finished mug of tea gone cold. An ornate, ribbon-tied bouquet of roses lay beside them.

“Ugh, more flowers,” she whispered under her breath, exhaling sharply. Her gaze traveled over the bouquet’s petals—deep red roses, crisp white lilies, and interspersed baby’s breath that made the arrangement especially lush. A small note card, signed in neat black ink: “Thinking of you. – Lando.”

She bristled. The feeling she experienced in that moment was a heady mix of exasperation, longing, and a strange sense of fear. Nine months of this. Nine months of politely trying to push him away while her heart hammered at every mention of his name. Nine months of hearing that cheerful British accent teasing her, flirting with her, and sending her extravagant gifts without any sign of slowing down. She absently traced the note with her fingertips, fighting the ridiculous urge to crush it in her hand. She couldn’t deny that she adored the gestures. There was no point lying to herself: she loved feeling special. She loved that he singled her out in a world where, by all rights, he should have been so unattainable. And yet…

She let the note slip from her fingers. It fluttered onto the dining table, half-crumpled but still readable. She stared at it, teeth sinking into her lower lip as a swirl of anger and inexplicable yearning circled her mind. She had been fighting this conflict from the moment they met. He was everything she’d sworn to avoid—playboy, stereotypical heartbreaker, and a well-known athlete. The mix of what if and impossible tormented her. She hated how she found him compelling. She hated how his presence filled her with light, yet she simultaneously feared the darkness in his history.

She turned, her hair swishing across her shoulders, and walked into the open-concept kitchen. Flicking on the kettle for fresh tea, she tried to focus on the mundane hum. She pressed a palm against the marbled counter, her mind drifting back, inevitably, to the time they first met.

—

Nine Months Ago

Y/N had just finished her 9-to-5 shift at her first “big girl” job—a role she was both good at and, admittedly, a little bored with. But that day, her friend Pietra had managed to coax her into joining a small get-together in Soho.

“Come on,” Pietra had insisted. “You need to meet my friends; they’re loads of fun. You need a break from that strict schedule of yours.”

“What do you mean by ‘my schedule’? It’s a normal job, Pietra,” Y/N had grumbled, but a hint of a smile tugged at her lips. She was shy and often fiercely protective of her boundaries, but she still went where her close friends urged her to go. After all, she didn’t have that many friends —just a small circle. Reluctantly, she tagged along.

The venue was a warm, tucked-away lounge bar. Fairy lights dangled from the ceiling, music bumped softly, and the chatter of patrons created a pleasant hum. That was when she first saw him—Lando Norris—glancing her way from a group of people near the back. She recognized him instantly: the messy curls of his hair, the bright, mischievous eyes, that athletic build dressed in a stylish black jacket. She was aware of his presence in the sense that one is aware of a flame in a darkened room; he seemed to radiate an effortless energy.

She remembered the moment heat bloomed in her cheeks. She’d heard of Lando Norris—the famed McLaren driver, the rumored playboy. He wasn’t just attractive; he was enthralling, like a magnet pulling the air from her lungs.

When Pietra introduced them, he was polite but also alarmingly direct. He locked eyes with Y/N, grin spreading on his face as though he’d discovered some precious secret that nobody else had.

“So you’re Y/N,” he had said, leaning in close enough that his breath was warm against her cheek. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

She tried to laugh it off, stammering that she was pretty boring—just a regular girl working a 9-5. He didn’t buy that for a second. He teased her. For the entire evening, he barely left her side. His hand lingered at her lower back each time he guided her to the bar to get drinks. Their conversation was laced with playful banter, her attempts to protect herself with sarcasm, and his unwavering interest, as though enthralled by every small detail of her life. He asked about her hobbies, her taste in music. She, in return, found it difficult to breathe under that intense stare. When the evening ended, Y/N left with a phone number in her contacts that she didn’t entirely know what to do with.

That was how it began.

—

Present Day

The kettle beeped, snapping Y/N out of her trance. She hastily poured water into a fresh mug, wincing slightly when a bit of boiling water splashed and burned her skin. She muttered a quick curse under her breath. The small pain was a reminder that she was here, grounded, in her apartment, in her life. Not in that memory of meeting Lando.

He was still the same. From that first moment, he made it exceptionally clear—painfully clear—that he wanted her. She’d tried ignoring him, tried politely brushing off his invites to fancy dinners or events, tried refusing his extravagant gifts of designer shoes and dresses. It only fueled him. She never quite told him no in harsh terms; she wanted to, but she could never muster it. A part of her liked that attention. Another part was terrified.

Leaving her mug on the counter, she wandered back into the living area. She paused at the floor-to-ceiling windows again, half expecting to see some reflection that would reveal the tumult swirling in her mind. Instead, she watched the gleaming lights of the city. She pulled her plush cardigan tighter around herself. Her body was warm but her insides felt cold with confusion, with a nagging, pulsing ache for something she didn’t think she could ever have or deserve.

Even though she was young, she sometimes felt older than her years. She had standards for the kind of man she could actually see herself with—someone who shared her goals. Stability. Honesty. In her mind, Lando was the polar opposite. He was glamorous, chaotic. He was rumored to have slept with countless women. And if even half those rumors were true, that was more than enough for her to keep him at arm’s length. She wasn’t a prude, but she saw that kind of behavior as a lack of self-control. She hated the thought of being just another notch on his bedpost—another fleeting woman he’d meet in a club and forget by morning.

Her phone buzzed on the table, the screen lighting up with a text. She recognized the name, and her pulse pounded.

Lando: “Did you get my flowers?”

She stared at the screen, sipping her tea. Her immediate reaction was to ignore him. But, ignoring him never worked. Not fully.

She typed, paused, deleted. Eventually, she settled on: “Yes, you didn’t have to.”

A bubble popped up almost immediately, showing he was typing.

Lando: “But I wanted to.”

She clenched her jaw. If only desire were enough for her to trust him—to let herself want him the way she truly did. Glancing at her reflection in the window, she tried to see the woman Lando claimed to adore. She wanted to be confident, but she rarely was—at least not around him. The idea of him comparing her to the typical bikini-clad models on his Instagram feed made her break out in anxiety. And yet, he was so persistent. Why couldn’t he be the typical player who moved on easily?

Shaking her head, she texted: “I appreciate them, but I don’t want you wasting your money.”

Lando: “I’ll always do it if it makes you smile. Are you free tomorrow night? I’m in London again.”

Her heart stuttered. It always did. That unwavering determination in him. He came to London so often for business, for sponsor commitments, for friends, for his family. He always tried to see her. She wanted to see him, but fear overshadowed her longing.

She typed back a response she’d practiced often: “I’m not sure. I might be busy.”

Another immediate reply. “You’re always busy. Let me know if you change your mind. I’ll be waiting.”

His words were simple, but they carried weight. “I’ll be waiting.” She couldn’t help but replay that phrase in her head, as though he were whispering it against her ear.

—

The Next Day

Y/N was perched on her living room couch, phone in hand, finishing up a Zoom call for work. Her legs were curled beneath her, and a loose T-shirt paired with leggings—her usual weekend attire—clung lightly to her form. She was comfortable, or at least she should have been, but she felt on edge.

Once she clicked off the call, she exhaled a sigh of relief. It was a Saturday, and though she was often used to the standard “9 to 5, Monday to Friday,” there were occasional weekend tasks that cropped up. She scrolled absentmindedly through her phone, ignoring the swirl of posts about Lando on social media. His fans loved him, especially the female fans. Photos of him with random women at clubs made their rounds more times than she could count. Even though it was rumored that he’d calmed down in recent years, the scars of rumor still trailed him. She’d read the gossip about how he used to message unknown girls, strangers, looking for a quick fling whenever he was traveling for races. The idea of it made her stomach twist with disgust and jealousy.

A ping from her group chat with Pietra and a few other friends lit the screen.

Pietra: “We’re meeting for coffee near Tower Bridge. Lando’s coming too. Wanna join?”

The moment she saw Lando’s name, a spike of adrenaline made her drop her phone. It tumbled to the carpet. She picked it up swiftly, chewing her lip. Her heart hammered. She had two choices: go and endure the swirl of tension, or avoid him again. She typed, paused, frowned, then typed again.

Y/N: “Sure, I could use some air. I’ll be there.”

She braced herself. No matter how much she denied it, she craved his presence like a moth to a flame.

–

It was late morning, and the area around Tower Bridge buzzed with tourists. Y/N arrived at the spot Pietra had texted her earlier.

She spotted Pietra first, already waving in her direction. Y/N forced a small smile and walked over to the group, her stomach tightening with nerves and anticipation. Off to the side, hands tucked into his pockets, stood Lando. He wore a casual black hoodie and jeans, his curls slightly messy, the corners of his mouth lifting the moment his eyes landed on her.

“You came,” he said softly, stepping forward. His voice carried that blend of relief and excitement that sent her heart into overdrive.

“Yeah. I was free,” she answered, trying to keep her tone neutral. She sensed his gaze trailing over her, as if he were filing away the details of her attire, her mood, the subtle flush in her cheeks. An invisible current of tension seemed to crackle between them.

Pietra cleared her throat. “Should we order?”

Lando tore his gaze away from Y/N and nodded, “Sure.” But she felt the way his eyes flicked back to her, how he lingered near her side when they moved to the counter. Despite her best efforts not to, her awareness of him was total.

They settled at a table outdoors, bright umbrellas casting soft shade over the group. The friend group chatted easily, laughter flowing between sips of coffee and bites of pastry. Y/N remained a little tense, contributing here and there, sipping her latte slowly as she listened.

Yet…he seemed utterly entranced. He spoke to everyone, but his attention always gravitated back to her. Whenever he cracked a joke, his eyes sought her reaction first. Whenever he shifted in his seat, his leg brushed against hers. Her pulse jumped each time. She tried to keep her breathing steady, tried to keep any sign of giddiness off her face.

Eventually, Pietra, Max, and the others peeled off to stroll down the riverwalk. Y/N was left sipping the last of her latte beside Lando, who silently took the seat across from her. The noise of the surrounding tourists faded into the background as he leaned forward, elbows resting on the small table.

“You’ve been ignoring my calls again,” he said, not accusing but definitely not thrilled.

She stiffened. “I’ve been busy.”

“Uh-huh,” he replied, raising an eyebrow. “Too busy to text back?”

“Sometimes,” she replied coldly. Her tone was sharper than she’d intended. A flicker of hurt skimmed across his face, quickly replaced by a careful mask of neutrality.

“I—” he began, then paused, searching for words. “I just… I still want to see you. I was thinking maybe dinner tonight, or we could do something else if you don’t like fancy dinners—”

She cut him off, voice low and tight with barely contained frustration. “Why don’t you give up?”

The faintest flicker of anger ignited in his eyes. “Why would I do that?”

“Because,” she hissed, suddenly aware of her own rising irritation, “it’s pointless. All these months, me pushing you away—none of it has made you stop. And I—God, Lando, I don’t do…casual flings. So if that’s what you’re after, just quit.”

He stared at her as though she’d slapped him. He blinked, expression twisting in something halfway between confusion and raw frustration. “You think that’s all I want?”

She set her cup down with more force than necessary. “That’s all you ever had with all those other girls, wasn’t it?” She intended the words as a challenge, but they came out drenched in resentment and, worse, hurt. It was her deepest fear, the one that tormented her in quiet hours: that he would treat her the same as everyone else.

His jaw clenched. “Stop believing everything you read. I know I’ve… I’ve not been a saint in the past. But I never cheated on anyone. And as for random flings—fine, that was years ago, when I was still trying to figure myself out. I’m not proud of it. But I’m not that person anymore.”

She folded her arms, refusing to meet his eyes. “People don’t just change overnight, Lando.”

He exhaled sharply. “I’m not asking you to trust me blindly. I’m just… I’m just trying to show you that I want you. God, you make me want things I’ve never wanted with anyone else. Does that really mean nothing to you?”

It felt like a lightning bolt of adrenaline speared through her. Her mind screamed that he was telling the truth, that there was sincerity in his voice that melted her guard. But the other half of her mind whirled with all the old rumors, all her insecurities, all the nights she’d lain in bed, scrolling through social media, seeing him partying in clubs with women who pressed themselves against him. Cheating rumors. Her chest constricted.

She stood abruptly, trying to keep her tone cold. “I told you. I don’t do casual. And I don’t think you’d give me anything else.”

His anger flared. He shot to his feet, almost toppling the chair behind him. A few people glanced their way. Leaning in close, he said, voice pitched low, “Stop deciding who I am before you even give me a chance.”

The rawness in his voice nearly undid her. Pain laced through her chest. She wanted to just fold into him, bury her face in his shoulder, pretend those years of rumors didn’t exist. But she couldn’t. “I’m sorry,” she managed, stepping back. “I can’t.”

She turned on her heel and walked away, leaving the half-full cup and his stony gaze behind. Her pulse thundered the entire time she headed home, the world blurring around the edges, tears prickling her eyes in a dizzying swirl of guilt and fear.

–

That evening, Y/N was sprawled on her couch, aimlessly flipping channels on the TV while her thoughts spiraled. She replayed that confrontation with Lando by the café at least a dozen times, dissecting every line, every half-hidden tremor of emotion in his voice. The regret was strong. She truly liked him—liked him to a painful degree. She yearned for him so badly she almost found it difficult to breathe. And yet, she was terrified. The idea of trusting him, and having it all fall apart, shook her to her core.

Her phone pinged once more.

Unknown Number: “Hey, it’s Damien. Pietra gave me your number. She mentioned you might be up for a date sometime?”

Y/N jolted upright, reading the text with surprise. She vaguely recalled Pietra mentioning a coworker’s friend who was single and looking to meet new people. She’d brushed it off at the time. But now, the idea of distracting herself from Lando’s incessant presence held a strong appeal. Maybe this was the way to break the cycle of longing.

Y/N: “Hi Damien, yes, Pietra told me about you. I’m free tomorrow if you want to meet?”

She hit send before she could second-guess herself. Letting out a breath, she pulled a blanket around her. This was what she needed, right? A normal guy, with no baggage, no string of humiliating rumors trailing him. She forced herself to ignore the pang of guilt in her stomach, that unshakable sense of betrayal for wanting to see someone else even though she was in no official relationship with Lando. She tried to rationalize it: Lando was the one who was truly unattainable, not her. The heart has to protect itself somehow.

It was the next day—a Sunday, bleak clouds gathering overhead. The wind rattled the windows of her high-rise. Y/N was in the middle of a laundry marathon, folding clothes in her living room, the TV chattering about random gossip in the background. A ring from the door buzzer startled her. She peeked at the digital display to see who it was. Her breath caught when she recognized the curly-haired figure looking resolutely into the camera. Lando.

Her first thought was to ignore him. But a burst of adrenaline had her pressing the intercom. “What do you want?” she asked, voice muffled by the speaker.

He looked up at the camera. She saw from the slight droop in his shoulders that he was determined but…vulnerable. His voice came through, a bit crackly. “I need to see you. Please.”

Her heart hammered. With a heavy exhale, she pressed the button to unlock the main door. She might regret it. But she needed closure, or something. She left the front door of her apartment ajar. Moments later, he stepped in, carrying a bouquet of pink peonies this time—her actual favorite. She’d offhandedly mentioned her love of peonies weeks ago. She swallowed the knot forming in her throat.

“You have to stop with the flowers,” she said by way of greeting.

He set them on a nearby shelf, ignoring her complaint. “I’m not apologizing for sending you flowers. It’s the least I can do for you.”

She stood there, arms crossing over her chest, vaguely aware of how her T-shirt and leggings did nothing to hide the shape of her hips and legs. She felt vulnerable letting him see her like this, so casual and undone. But he didn’t seem to notice anything but her eyes. Stepping closer, he spoke in a quiet, tense voice.

“Look,” he began, “I’m sorry about yesterday. I didn’t mean to snap. I just—seeing how you look at me, like I’m the worst person in the world, it kills me. You never give me the benefit of the doubt.”

Her throat tightened. Anger, guilt, and longing all warred within her. “You haven’t exactly proven me wrong. Every time I check social media, there’s a rumor, or a photo—”

His eyes blazed. “That’s not me anymore. Do you know how old some of those photos are? You think I’m hooking up with random girls at clubs while trying to chase you for nine months? I have no idea how to prove I’m not lying except to say it outright: I’m not sleeping around. I’m not cheating. I don’t want to be with them, I want to be with you.”

The sincerity in his voice was so intense it shook her defenses. “But I can’t just…unhear the rumors. You had that reputation for so long, Lando.”

He drew in a breath, his frustration palpable. “I know. But people change. I’m not going to apologize forever for my past mistakes. I’ll own them. And you can ask me anything. Let me show you who I am now.”

Her eyes darted to the side. She felt the press of her own heartbeat rattling through her ears. When she didn’t answer, he took a bold step forward, bridging the small distance between them. His gaze flicked down, glimpsing the way her full hips curved into her waist. She saw that flicker of admiration in his eyes. She braced herself, expecting a sexual comment, but it never came. Instead, he reached out carefully, like he was half afraid she would flinch.

He gently touched the side of her face, fingertips grazing her cheek. The warmth of his touch sent a sizzling jolt through her. She swallowed, her throat dry, every nerve in her body going taut.

“Y/N,” he said, voice low and rough, “you’ve got to give me a chance.”

Her walls trembled. She wanted to push him away, but the swirl of desire in her belly was strong, overwhelming. She found herself leaning in slightly, like a magnet.

“God, you’re such a jerk sometimes,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, though it lacked conviction. Anger and longing clashed in her tone.

His lips quirked into a small, bittersweet smile. “But you still like me,” he murmured. It wasn’t a question.

A heartbeat passed—then another. Before she knew it, his mouth was on hers, the kiss hard and urgent. She gasped, her body stiffening in shock before melting into him. The laundry in her arms tumbled to the floor. His hand cupped her cheek, drawing her closer, and she tilted her head, letting him deepen the kiss. The taste of his mouth—coffee and mint—erased every rational thought in her head for a thrilling, reckless moment.

Her arms found their way around his shoulders. His hand slipped from her cheek down to the small of her back, pressing her into him. She felt the warmth of his body, the electric tension that had brewed for months now set free. His chest rose and fell rapidly against hers.

But then, like a jolt of lightning, the fear snapped back into her. She broke the kiss, pushing him away with trembling hands. Her breath came in shallow gasps, and he stood there, panting.

“Shit,” she mumbled, stumbling a step back. “I can’t do this.”

“Y/N,” he said, voice husky. “Don’t—”

She shook her head. She couldn’t even form words. She just fled to the door and swung it open, voice trembling, “You should leave.”

He hesitated, heartbreak flickering in his eyes, but he eventually stepped out. The moment the door clicked shut behind him, she felt tears welling, unstoppable. She sank to the floor, burying her face in her hands.

–

In the days that followed, Y/N avoided every text and call from Lando. She even avoided Pietra’s invites, terrified he might show up. She drowned herself in work, volunteering for extra tasks at the office. She took long shifts, poured over spreadsheets, answered emails into the late hours of the night. She hammered her free time with exercise. She tried everything to chase the memory of his kiss away. She was furious at herself for letting it happen, furious at the swirl of contradictory emotions she couldn’t control.

She told herself that was it. She couldn’t let it happen again.

But deep down, she knew she was lying. The way his lips felt on hers haunted her. She replayed the second their mouths connected, how her heart soared with a new kind of adrenaline. The crash afterward was brutal, leaving her feeling hollow.

–

One week later, Y/N found herself in a quiet, upscale restaurant near Covent Garden, fidgeting with her napkin. Damien sat across from her, a kind smile on his face, conversation polite and gentle. He was the epitome of normal—a stable job in finance, an easy sense of humor, no swirling rumors or paparazzi following him. She forced herself to pay attention to him and not think about Lando.

But every time she noticed Damien’s neat, short hair and pressed collared shirt, she missed Lando’s messy curls and casual hoodies. Every time Damien asked a sweet, thoughtful question, she imagined Lando’s witty, borderline-arrogant grin. This was torture in a different sense. She forced herself to laugh at Damien’s jokes, but the laughter sounded hollow to her own ears.

“So,” Damien said, leaning forward. “Tell me more about your job, about you. Pietra said you moved here?”

She nodded. “Yes, over 5 years ago. I, well, my life is pretty routine. Wake up, commute, work, come home. Maybe watch Netflix or read. Nothing exciting.” She tried to laugh it off.

Damien smiled. “Routine isn’t bad. I like reliable people.”

She forced a polite smile back. She was about to respond when she felt a distinct presence behind her. That comforting sense of tension that always accompanied… him. Slowly, she turned her head. Her heart lurched in her chest. Standing near the entrance to the restaurant, accompanied by two of his mates, was Lando. The world seemed to stutter for a second. He was scanning the room—probably looking for a table or maybe meeting someone. And then he saw her.

His entire posture stiffened. Their eyes locked, the swirl of unspoken emotion instantly thickening the air. She felt a spike of panic. She prayed he wouldn’t come over, wouldn’t make a scene. Yet part of her wanted him to. Maybe because she longed to see him again.

He shot her a look that asked a thousand questions. She could almost read the accusation in his gaze. She averted her eyes, turning back to Damien, whose brow furrowed with confusion as he followed the direction of her gaze to see Lando.

“Oh,” Damien said, not quite sure what was happening. “Is that a friend of yours?”

She cleared her throat. “Sort of. We… we move in the same circle,” she lied, or half-lied. “Let’s just ignore him.” She forced a laugh.

But ignoring Lando Norris was impossible. Out of the corner of her vision, she watched him murmur something to his friends and stride purposefully toward her table. Her stomach dropped. Damien noticed her sudden tension.

“Y/N? You okay?”

She tried to smile, but the attempt was pitiful. Before she could speak, Lando stood at the edge of their table, hands in his pockets, face set in a carefully neutral mask. She heard the quickness of his breath, saw the faint flush in his cheeks that told her he was not calm at all.

“Hey,” he said, voice clipped. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Damien, noticing the tension, stood from his seat politely and offered his hand. “Hello, I’m Damien. I’m Y/N’s—”

“Friend,” she interjected too quickly, her cheeks blazing. She avoided Lando’s gaze, focusing on her water glass.

Damien hesitated, confusion scrawled on his features. “Yes, well, friend for now.”

Lando’s jaw ticked, and he slid his eyes to Y/N. She could feel the wave of anger rolling off him. A tight, forced smile appeared on his face as he took Damien’s hand, giving it a quick shake. “Lando. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Damien replied, though he seemed unsure about the whole situation.

Her heart hammered so loud she was surprised they couldn’t hear it. Lando parted his lips, hesitated, then said in a low voice, “Hope you both enjoy your meal.” He turned to her, eyes burning with unspoken frustration. “We’ll catch up another time, yeah?”

She nodded stiffly, feeling her throat constrict. “Sure,” she managed. Then he was gone, joining his friends at a table across the restaurant. The man was too well-known to cause a scene in a public place with prying eyes, but the tension was thick enough to slice through with a knife.

Damien slowly sank back into his seat, giving her a concerned glance. “Is everything okay? You two seemed…tense.”

She forced another laugh that sounded high-pitched and desperate to her own ears. “We have a bit of a… complicated history.” She tried to wave it off, picking up the menu. But her eyes couldn’t seem to stop flicking to the side, drawn to the figure of Lando, who was now sitting with his friends at a table partially in view. She felt him glancing at her. The weight of that gaze pinned her down. Her appetite vanished.

Over the course of dinner, she tried to maintain a steady conversation with Damien. She forced herself to nod politely at whatever he was saying, some anecdote about a recent trip to Ireland. She tried to laugh when appropriate. But her mind was wholly consumed by Lando. The tightness of her chest only worsened each time she felt his eyes on her.

Finally, Damien noticed her distraction. He followed her gaze, turning to see Lando, who was tapping his foot impatiently beneath his table, occasionally whispering to his two friends. One friend seemed to be trying to calm him down. Y/N swallowed, bracing herself as she realized that every fiber of her being was screaming at her. This was too intense, too complicated, too painful. She was trying so hard to maintain composure.

Damien, clearing his throat, leaned forward, voice gentle. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you and…that guy, but if you need to talk about it, I’m here to listen. I like you. I’d like to keep seeing you. But if your heart’s somewhere else—”

She flinched. “It’s not. I… Lando and I aren’t dating. It’s complicated. But I’m here on this date with you,” she said, trying to cling to normalcy.

Damien offered a sad smile. “Yeah. But I’m not blind to the tension.” He gestured softly toward Lando. “If you have unresolved feelings with him, you need to figure that out, Y/N. It’s not fair to either of us otherwise.”

She nodded, feeling tears prickling. She didn’t want to break down in front of a near stranger. “You’re right,” she said, voice cracking. “I’m sorry.”

Damien’s gaze was kind. “No worries. Let’s just finish dinner. We can talk afterwards.”

She offered him a grateful half-smile. As she forced down a few bites of her meal, she avoided looking at Lando. But near the end, she heard a scraping of chairs. He and his friends were leaving. Unable to control herself, she glanced up to catch him staring at her with an expression of stony, confused anger. It shot a pang of guilt straight through her. Then, without a word, he walked out. The door swung behind him, leaving her with an ache deep in her gut.

–

It was later that night, and Y/N was beyond exhausted—physically from the clack of her heels on concrete all evening, and emotionally from the drain of a lukewarm date. She’d said goodbye to Damien just outside her building, gently declining his request for a second date. Although she’d been polite, her thoughts had circled only one person the entire evening. Her heart grew heavier with every step she took toward the large glass doors of her high-rise. The cold night air bit at her cheeks, and she wanted nothing more than to escape into the warmth of her living room.

As she neared the entrance, punching in the code to unlock the main doors, a figure shifted in the shadows beside one of the pillars. Her heart leapt into her throat, and she nearly dropped her keys. She drew in a sharp breath.

From the darkness, Lando stepped out, leaning heavily against the glass. There was a ferocity in his gaze she’d never quite seen before. His arms were folded over his chest, but the tension rippling through his shoulders was almost visible. He looked like he was fighting a battle just to keep himself from exploding.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” she blurted, voice shaky with a mix of adrenaline and nerves. A dozen alarm bells rang in her head—she’d never seen him look this furious, this…possessive.

He didn’t move from his spot. “Sorry,” he muttered, but there was nothing apologetic in his tone. “I knew you’d be home eventually.”

She tried to brush past him into the lobby, pressing the key fob firmly against the reader. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, forcing as much calm as she could muster. The glass doors slid open with a hiss, revealing the polished marble of the foyer.

He followed her inside, shoulders practically quivering with restrained anger. “We need to talk.”

The intensity in his eyes made her throat tighten. She hugged her arms around herself. “About what?” she spat, stepping toward the elevator. She was angry—angry with him for continuing to show up unannounced, angry with herself for the guilt she carried. She jabbed the elevator button, watching the numbers tick down from the top floor. “I have nothing to say to you.”

He slid into the elevator with her right as the doors closed, leaving them trapped in that small space. She felt his presence like static electricity, filling the air. If jealousy were a fire, he’d be an inferno right now—scorching everything in reach.

He turned, chest rising and falling as he tried to steady himself. “About you going on a date with some other guy, when you damn well know there’s something between us.”

His voice was low, dangerous. She’d never heard such palpable fury from him. It made her heart pound wildly. She scoffed, fixing her gaze on the metallic elevator doors. “You and I have nothing,” she said icily, though her voice quivered at the end. “I’ve told you a thousand times: it wouldn’t work. But you refuse to back off. So yes, Lando, I went on a date.”

His eyes blazed as though her words poured fuel on his rage. His hand twitched at his side—she half-expected him to slam his fist against the elevator wall. “Why?” he growled, struggling to keep his volume low. “Because you think he’ll be more stable? Because you think I can’t be serious about you? That I can’t commit? Or because you wanted to hurt me, rub it in my face that you can walk away any time you want?”

She whipped her head around, eyes blazing with her own anger. “Don’t twist my intentions,” she snapped. “I don’t want to hurt you. I just—I don’t think you can give me what I need. You’re Lando Norris, the guy plastered all over social media with a harem of women. Even if half of it isn’t true, how am I supposed to know which half?”

The elevator dinged, but it felt more like a bomb dropping. When the doors slid open to her floor, she stormed out into the hallway, rummaging through her purse for her keys. He followed closely on her heels, the anger rolling off him like crashing waves.

She finally snagged the key, her entire body trembling with the aftershocks of their argument. “Just go home, Lando,” she muttered, not daring to look at him. She was terrified of what she might see there—hurt, or worse, a brokenness that mirrored her own.

“Not until we settle this,” he hissed. Before she could argue, he stepped in front of her door, effectively blocking it. She stared at his chest for a second, realizing she had to physically push him aside if she wanted to run. The tension in the air was suffocating.

With a furious huff, she shoved the key into the lock and shouldered past him. He slipped inside right behind her. The door slammed shut, and an uneasy silence filled the dimly lit entryway of her apartment. The glow of the city outside cast faint patterns on the wall, but the atmosphere felt like a tinderbox seconds from erupting.

“Fine,” she bit out, tossing her bag onto the kitchen counter with a little too much force. “Talk.”

He ran both hands through his hair, pacing like a caged animal, that wild, jealous energy crackling around him. “You keep spitting out all these reasons you can’t be with me,” he began, voice trembling with a mixture of rage and desperation. “All these rumors—you act like I’m the same reckless kid I was years ago. But I’m not.”

She pressed her arms tighter around herself, trying to combat the swirl of adrenaline. “How am I supposed to believe that?” she demanded, voice cracking. “The cheating rumors. The flings. The endless girls in your DMs. You want to stand there and tell me it’s all lies?”

He let out a harsh bark of laughter, frustration strangling the sound. “Not all lies. But the cheating—yes, those were lies. The hooking up—fine, it happened, but not when I had a girlfriend. I was lonely and stupid, and yeah, I messed around. But not anymore.” His fists clenched at his sides, as though the words themselves hurt coming out. “Ever since you walked into my life, I’ve done nothing but try to show you that I’ve changed. I’ve never cheated on you, never even let myself think of anyone else. But you don’t see that, do you? Because you’d rather believe I’m—”

She cut him off with a bitter laugh, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. “Don’t turn this on me. I’ve watched pictures of you partying with girls, read about all the nights you went clubbing while your ex was nowhere to be found. How do I know you won’t do that to me, too?”

His eyes flared with hurt. He drew in a ragged breath, then pounded his fist once, softly yet furiously, against the side of her sofa. “Stop. Stop punishing me for something I didn’t do. You want to know the truth? I hated those rumors. I hated that I didn’t do enough to shut them down. But I was too caught up in my life—racing, traveling, trying to please everyone. I can’t change that now. But I would never treat you like that.”

She sniffed, tears brimming, voice wavering. “Then how do I know—”

“You don’t,” he interrupted, voice cracking on the edges. “You either trust me or you don’t.”

For a heartbeat, they just stared at each other. Her tears clung to her lashes, and the anguish in his expression was brutal. The space between them thrummed with pent-up longing and towering anger, their conflicting emotions practically vibrating in the dimly lit living room.

“That’s the problem,” she whispered finally, wiping at her eyes. “I’m scared. You’re Lando Norris. You could have anyone, and—God, look at me. I’m never going to be those girls. Never. I can’t compete with them.”

He laughed again, but it was devoid of humor, laced with sarcasm and heartbreak. “Compete with them? Compete for what? They mean nothing to me, Y/N. Nothing. Half the pictures you see are just me stuck in a club for a sponsor event or forced to smile next to models at a photoshoot. Do you think I’m sending them designer shoes or spending every spare moment trying to figure out how to get them to give me a chance?”

She closed her eyes, tears leaking down her cheeks. She hated feeling weak in front of him, but the swirl of rage and longing was too strong to contain. “You could just be infatuated. Maybe I’m the new chase, that’s all.”

Something inside him snapped at those words. He let out a sharp expletive, stepping forward, crowding her against the back of the couch. His eyes burned, voice trembling with an anger that threatened to boil over. “You really think so little of me? You think I’d be standing here like a bloody idiot, night after night, sending you flowers and calling you, chasing you across the city—just because I’m bored? How can you not see how furious it makes me, seeing you with someone else, even the idea of someone else, when I’ve done nothing but try to show you that you’re the only one I want?”

She flinched at the raw intensity in his voice. Her heart thundered, torn between fear and a twisted sense of relief that at least he cared this much. “I just—” she started, but her words failed her.

He grabbed her wrist, not painfully, but firmly enough that she couldn’t ignore him. “Do you have any idea how jealous I was tonight?” he practically snarled. “I’ve been pacing around your building, counting the hours, imagining you laughing with him, letting him touch you the way I want to—” His voice broke off, a tremor running through his shoulders. “It drove me insane.”

She swallowed hard, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Why?” she rasped. “Why do you even care?”

“Why?” he echoed. He let out a ragged breath, finally loosening his hold on her. His gaze flicked over her face, taking in every tear, every shaky breath. “Because I—” He closed his eyes, trembling. “Because I’m falling in love with you, Y/N. And it’s driving me out of my mind that you can’t see that.”

It was more of a confession than she’d ever expected, especially with so much anger behind it. She felt her whole world tilt. Her lips parted, but no sound came. Her heart hammered an erratic beat.

He stared at her, eyes a storm of rage and vulnerability. “So go ahead,” he said, voice cracking. “Yell at me. Tell me you don’t believe me. Tell me all the reasons we won’t work. But don’t you dare say I don’t care. Because I do. Too damn much.”

She choked back a sob, clinging to the edge of the couch for support. “Lando—”

He moved closer, so close she felt the heat radiating from him, the raw tension. In the hush of the apartment, their frantic breaths seemed deafening. She squeezed her eyes shut, tears leaking from the corners. She didn’t know if it was the weight of his words or the sheer presence of him that shattered her defenses, but something inside her cracked wide open.

He brought a hand up, shaking slightly, and brushed the tears from her cheek. His touch was unexpectedly gentle given the fury in his eyes. “For God’s sake,” he muttered, voice tight, “just let me in. Let me show you.”

Her tears flowed freely now, a twisted mix of heartbreak and an ache for him she could no longer deny. Her lips trembled, trying to form a response, but all that came was a shaky sob. His breath hitched as if her pain sliced right through him. Suddenly, he couldn’t hold back; he looped an arm around her waist and yanked her against his chest, cradling her as if she might shatter. She stiffened at first, the shock of his physical closeness overwhelming. But then her fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie, and she buried her face there, letting the dam break.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered fiercely into her hair. His voice still vibrated with anger, but it was undercut by raw desperation. “I’m so fucking jealous I can’t think straight, but I— I don’t want to lose you.”

She cried against him, letting the emotions flood her. Her tears soaked into his clothes. Her body shook as she let out all the doubts, the insecurities, the fear of being betrayed or left behind. He just held her, pressing rough kisses into her hair, letting his own ragged breaths warm the top of her head.

After what felt like an eternity, she pulled back enough to look up at him. His eyes were bloodshot with pent-up emotion. She could still sense the roiling jealousy and frustration coursing through him like a living thing.

“I’m sorry,” she croaked. “I’m sorry for always pushing you away. I’m sorry for—”

He silenced her with a searing kiss, lips crashing onto hers in a fierce, desperate claim. She gasped, momentarily stunned by the sheer force of it. Then a molten wave of longing shot through her, and she melted into him. Her arms came up around his neck, tangling in his messy curls. She sensed all that anger still there, fueling each press of his mouth, each frantic swipe of his tongue. But underneath it was something deeper—love, need, a yearning she recognized in herself.

He broke away only to rasp, “Don’t. Don’t apologize. Just—don’t run. Not anymore.”

She answered by pulling him back in, their kiss turning hot and frantic. Her tears mixed with the taste of his mouth, and she felt his hands roam over her waist, her hips, dragging her impossibly close. She moaned against his lips, the press of their bodies kindling an urgency that had been building for months.

Their breaths grew ragged as he maneuvered her backward until her knees hit the couch. She sank onto it, drawing him with her. He stared down at her, chest heaving, eyes heavy-lidded with desire—and still, that anger flickered at the edges. But now, his fury morphed into a desperate need to claim her, to prove himself in a way words never could.

“Tell me you want this,” he demanded, voice throaty and laced with jealousy so thick it almost hurt. “Tell me you want me, not him, not anyone else. Me.”

She cupped his face between her trembling hands. “God, Lando…I do,” she whispered, tears still wet on her cheeks. “It’s always been you.”

That was all he needed. His mouth crashed onto hers once more, their kisses feverish and unrestrained. She tugged at his hoodie, pulling it up until he helped yank it over his head. Her fingers immediately splayed across the warm skin of his back, feeling the tense muscles there. He groaned at her touch, sliding a hand under her blouse to stroke the small of her back, his calloused fingertips igniting every nerve ending.

Their kiss turned hungrier, the taste of him filling her senses. She arched against him, pressing her hips up into his. His lips trailed fiery kisses along her jaw, dipping to her neck, where he bit down softly, making her gasp. Her fingers dug into his shoulders.

His voice shook against her skin. “I can’t stand the thought of you with anyone else,” he confessed, jealousy clinging to every syllable. “It drives me mad.”

Her breath hitched. Somehow, hearing how worked up he was, how all-consuming his feelings were, stoked her own desire. “I’m sorry,” she managed again, though it came out in a ragged whisper. “I’m— God, I’m sorry.”

He answered with another bruising kiss, leaving no space for apologies. His hand slid higher under her blouse, caressing the curve of her waist, tracing the outline of her ribcage. Her body quivered, half from the adrenaline spike, half from the sudden waves of pleasure.

Time blurred as they gave in to months of tension. She’d dreamed of this, yearned for it. But never had she imagined the raw intensity—especially not with him practically shaking from jealousy and fear of losing her. Every whispered plea, every frantic movement, carried that undercurrent of anger and heartbreak that now fed straight into a spiraling passion.

Lando’s lips claimed hers with a ferocity that left her breathless, his hands gripping her hips as if she might vanish if he loosened his hold. The taste of him was intoxicating—spiced with desperation, laced with a jealousy she could feel vibrating through every inch of his body. He pulled back only to trail kisses across her face—her cheeks, her jawline, her neck—each one a searing mark of his obsession. His mouth was everywhere, and she could barely think, let alone resist.

“Lando,” she gasped, her voice trembling as his lips brushed the sensitive spot beneath her ear. His breath hitched, and she felt the tension in his shoulders, the restrained fury and longing that had been building for months.

“I’ve waited too long for this,” he growled against her skin, his hands sliding up her sides to grip the hem of her blouse. With a sharp tug, he pulled it over her head, leaving her in nothing but her bra. The cool air hit her skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his gaze as he took her in.

His hands slid over her shoulders, down her arms, then back up to cup her face. He kissed her again, softer this time, but no less urgent. His thumbs brushed her cheeks, wiping away the remnants of her tears. “You’re so perfect,” he murmured, his voice low and reverent. “I can’t believe I almost lost you.”

Her breath caught as he moved lower, his lips brushing her collarbone, her shoulders, every inch of her exposed skin. His hands fumbled with the clasp of her bra, and she arched into him, her heart pounding as the fabric fell away. The moment her breasts were bare, his eyes darkened with hunger.

“God, I’ve dreamed about this,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire. His hands cupped her, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, and she couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped her lips. He smiled—a wicked, possessive thing—before lowering his head to take one into his mouth.

The sensation was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. His tongue swirled around her nipple, teasing and sucking, and she tangled her fingers in his curls, pulling him closer. He groaned against her skin, the sound vibrating through her chest, and she felt her hips arch involuntarily.

“Lando,” she gasped, her voice barely a whisper. “Please.”

He pulled back just enough to look up at her, his lips swollen, his eyes blazing. “Tell me you’re mine,” he demanded, his voice rough. “Tell me no one else gets to touch you like this.”

She could barely think, let alone form words, but she managed to nod, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “I’m yours,” she whispered. “Only yours.”

That was all he needed. He dove back in, his mouth claiming her other breast with the same intensity. His hands roamed over her body, exploring every curve, every inch of skin as if he were memorizing her. She writhed beneath him, her moans filling the room, her hands clutching at his back as if he were the only thing keeping her grounded.

He shifted, his lips trailing down her sternum, over her ribs, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His hands squeezed her hips, fingers digging into her skin, and she whimpered, the sound desperate and needy.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with awe. He kissed her stomach, his tongue dipping into her navel, and she gasped, her back arching off the couch. His hands slid up her sides, tracing the curve of her waist, before finally cupping her breasts again.

He leaned up, his lips claiming hers in a searing kiss, and she could taste herself on his tongue—sweet, addictive. His hands kneaded her breasts, his thumbs brushing her nipples, and she moaned into his mouth, her hips grinding against his.

“I’ve been imagining this for so long,” he confessed, pulling back just enough to speak. His breath was warm against her skin, his eyes heavy-lidded with desire. “Every night, I’ve dreamed about touching you like this. About feeling you beneath me. About making you moan my name.”

His words sent a shiver down her spine, and she tugged him closer, her lips capturing his in a desperate kiss. He groaned, his hands sliding down her body to grip her hips, pulling her flush against him. She could feel the hardness of him through his jeans, and she whimpered, the sound muffled against his lips.

“Lando,” she gasped, breaking the kiss. Her hands slid down his chest, fumbling with the button of his jeans. He watched her, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his eyes filled with need.

“Wait,” he growled, catching her hands in his. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Before she could protest, he pushed her back against the couch, his lips trailing down her body once more. He kissed her breasts, her stomach, her hips, and she squirmed beneath him, her hands tangling in his hair as he reached for the waistband of her jeans. His hands were impatient, fingers fumbling with the button and zipper, and she let out a shaky laugh, half from nerves, half from the sheer intensity of his focus.

“Lando,” she breathed, her voice trembling as he tugged the denim down her hips. He kissed her exposed skin, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just above the edge of her panties, and she gasped, her back arching off the couch. Her jeans pooled at her ankles, and he pulled them off in one swift motion, tossing them aside without a second thought.

Her legs were bare now, her body trembling beneath his gaze. He looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered, his eyes filled with a hunger that made her heart race. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. “Every inch of you.”

Her hands clenched in his hair, tugging him closer as he kissed his way back up her body. His lips found hers again, the kiss bruising, desperate, and she moaned into his mouth, her hips lifting off the couch in search of friction. He groaned, his fingers digging into her hips as he held her still, his lips moving to her neck, her collarbone, her breasts.

“Lando,” she gasped, her voice breaking as his teeth grazed her nipple. He chuckled, the sound low and satisfied, before pulling back to look at her.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he promised, his eyes blazing with intent. She shivered, her body already a trembling mess beneath him, and he smirked, his hands sliding down to grip her thighs. “Not even close.”

“Lando,” she whimpered, her voice trembling. “Please.”

He looked up at her, his eyes blazing, and he didn’t say a word. Instead, he hooked his fingers in the waistband of her panties and pulled them down, leaving her completely bare. Her breath hitched as he stared at her, his gaze raking over her body with a hunger that made her heart race.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice low and reverent. “Every inch of you.”

He leaned down, his lips brushing the inside of her thigh, and she tensed, her hands clutching the couch cushions. His breath was warm against her skin, and she whimpered, her hips lifting off the couch in a silent plea.

“Lando,” she gasped, her voice trembling. “Please.”

He didn’t make her wait. His mouth claimed her in one swift movement, and she cried out, her back arching off the couch. His tongue swirled around her, teasing and tasting, and she tangled her hands in his hair, pulling him closer.

“Oh, God,” she moaned, her hips grinding against his face. “Lando, please.”

Lando’s mouth was relentless, his tongue tracing every inch of her with a hunger that left her trembling. She could feel the slick heat of him working her, his tongue lapping at her entrance, teasing her with slow, deliberate strokes that made her toes curl. “Oh, God, Lando,” she gasped, her hands fisting in his hair, pulling him closer as if she could fuse him to her. His lips wrapped around her clit, sucking gently at first, then harder, and she let out a strangled cry, her hips lifting off the couch. The sensation was electric, like a current running straight to her core, and she could feel herself getting wetter, her body responding to every flick of his tongue.

“You taste so fucking good,” he growled against her skin, his voice rough and raw. “I’ve been dreaming about this—about how sweet you’d feel, how tight you’d be.” His tongue swirled around her clit, teasing her mercilessly, and she moaned, the sound ragged and desperate. He pulled back just enough to look up at her, his eyes blazing with a mix of lust and something deeper, something possessive. “I could spend hours here,” he muttered, his breath hot against her skin. “Just tasting you, learning every inch of you. You’re fucking addictive.”

She whimpered, her body quivering as he dove back in, his tongue working her with a skill that left her mind blank. He added two fingers, sliding them inside her with a groan, and she cried out, her pussy clenching around him. “Jesus, you’re so tight,” he murmured, his fingers curling inside her, hitting that spot that made her see stars. “And so fucking wet—God, you’re perfect.” He pumped his fingers slowly, drawing out every gasp, every moan, and she could feel herself spiraling toward the edge. “That’s it, baby,” he encouraged, his voice low and husky. “Let me hear you. Let me know how good I’m making you feel.”

She couldn’t hold back the sounds escaping her lips—moans, whimpers, his name repeated like a prayer. His tongue flicked over her clit, alternating between gentle licks and firm pressure, and she felt her legs quake, her body tightening like a coiled spring. “Lando, I—” she choked out, her voice breaking as the pleasure built to unbearable levels. “I’m so close—please.”

He didn’t let up, his mouth and fingers working in perfect harmony, driving her higher and higher until she shattered. Her orgasm hit her like a wave, crashing over her with a force that left her gasping for air, her pussy clenching around his fingers as she rode out the intensity. He didn’t stop, his tongue coaxing every last tremor from her body, his lips pressing soft, reverent kisses to her inner thighs as she came down from the high.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” he murmured, his voice thick with admiration. He leaned up, kissing her stomach, her chest, her lips, and she could taste herself on his tongue—sweet, intoxicating. “I’m never going to get enough of you,” he confessed, his hands roaming her body, memorizing her curves. “Your pussy, your taste, the way you moan my name—it’s all fucking perfect. You’re mine, Y/N. All mine.”

She nodded, too dazed to speak, her body still humming with pleasure. He kissed her again, slow and deep, and she melted into him, her hands tangling in his hair. He pulled back just enough to smirk at her, his eyes dark with satisfaction. “And I’m just getting started.”

Lando’s hands slid under her back, his strong arms lifting her effortlessly as if she weighed nothing. She gasped, her arms instinctively looping around his neck as he stood, cradling her against his chest. Her body felt weightless, her mind still hazy from the intensity of what he’d just done to her. He carried her through the dimly lit apartment, his steps purposeful and steady, never once breaking his gaze from hers. There was something possessive in his expression, something that made her heart race even faster.

When they reached her bedroom, he gently lowered her onto the bed, her body sinking into the softness of the mattress. She was completely bare now, her skin glowing faintly in the moonlight streaming through the windows. Her pussy was still sensitive, still throbbing from the way he’d made her come, and she could feel the slickness between her thighs as she lay there, her legs slightly parted—an unspoken invitation.

Lando stood at the edge of the bed, his eyes raking over her with a hunger that made her shiver. His fingers gripped the hem of his hoodie, and he yanked it over his head in one swift motion, revealing his toned chest and the faint trail of hair that led down to the waistband of his jeans. She bit her lip, her gaze tracing the lines of his body, the way his muscles flexed as he moved.

He wasted no time, his hands quickly undoing the button of his jeans, the zipper sliding down with a soft hiss. He kicked them off, leaving him in nothing but his boxers, the fabric barely containing the hardness straining against it. Her breath hitched as she took him in, the reality of what was about to happen finally sinking in.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and rough as he stepped closer to the bed. His hands slid up her thighs, his touch sending shivers through her. “I’ve been imagining this for so long—having you like this, seeing you laid out for me, completely mine.” He leaned down, his lips brushing her inner thigh, and she whimpered, her body arching toward him.

“Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Please…”

He smirked, that wicked, possessive smile she was starting to love—and fear—as he straightened. “Patience, love,” he said, his voice teasing. “I’m not done with you yet.” His hands gripped her hips, pulling her closer to the edge of the bed, and she felt the warmth of his body as he leaned over her, his breath hot against her skin. “You’re mine now, Y/N. All mine.”

Lando’s fingers traced the curve of her hip, his eyes filled with a possessive hunger that made her shiver. His breath was hot against her skin as he leaned closer, his lips brushing her ear. “Tell me how you want me, Y/N,” he growled, his voice low and rough with desire. “Tell me what you need from me.”

Her breath hitched, her body trembling beneath his touch. She could feel the slick heat between her thighs, the ache for him almost unbearable. “You can do whatever you want with me, Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. “Just—please. Fuck me. However you want. I just need you inside me.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. “Desperate for me, huh?” he teased, his fingers sliding up her thigh, tracing the sensitive skin there. “You’ve been dreaming about this, haven’t you? About me fucking you, making you mine.”

She whimpered, her hips lifting off the bed in a silent plea. “Yes,” she gasped, her hands clutching the sheets. “I need you, Lando. Please.”

He smirked, that wicked, possessive smile she was starting to love—and fear—as he straightened. Slowly, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of his boxers, his eyes never leaving hers. The fabric slid down his hips, and her breath caught in her throat. He was bigger than she expected, his cock thick and hard, straining toward her. Her mouth watered at the sight, her body growing even wetter as she imagined how he would feel inside her.

“Lando,” she breathed, her voice trembling. “I want to suck you. Let me—”

He cut her off with a firm shake of his head, his hand catching her chin and tilting her face up to his. “Not tonight, love,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Tonight’s about you. About worshiping you. About finally having you in the way I’ve been dreaming of for so long.” He leaned down, his lips brushing hers in a searing kiss. “You can suck me off another time. Right now, I need to be inside you. Right now, I need to see my dick sliding in and out of that pretty pussy of yours.”

Her breath hitched, her body trembling with anticipation. His words alone were enough to make her throb, but the way he looked at her—like she was the only thing that mattered—made her heart race even faster. She nodded, her legs falling open wider in an unspoken invitation.

Lando groaned, his hand sliding down to grip his cock, stroking himself once as he positioned himself between her thighs. “You’re mine now, Y/N,” he growled, his voice thick with possession. “All mine.”

Lando’s grip on her hips tightened as he lined himself up, the thick head of his cock brushing against her slick entrance. She gasped, her body instinctively arching toward his, desperate for more. Her pussy felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending alive and screaming for him. The way he stretched her was exquisite—a perfect mix of pleasure and a hint of pain that made her grind her hips against his, silently begging him to go deeper. She could feel every ridge, every vein of his cock as he pushed inside her, inch by torturously slow inch, filling her in a way that made her head spin. Her pussy clenched around him, as if it didn’t want to let him go, and she let out a whimper that was half pleasure, half desperation.

For Lando, it was like sliding into heaven. Her pussy was so fucking tight, gripping him like a velvet glove, and the heat of her was enough to make him see stars. He groaned, low and guttural, as he felt her walls flutter around him, her body adjusting to his size. “Fuck, Y/N,” he growled, his voice rough with need. “You’re so goddamn perfect. Your pussy feels like it was made for me.” He leaned down, capturing her lips in a fierce kiss, swallowing her moans as he pushed deeper. He could feel her nails digging into his back, her legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer, and he knew she was just as desperate as he was.

He started to move, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in hard but slow, dragging the movement to prolong the unbearable pleasure. Her moans filled the room, a symphony of bliss that drove him wild. One of his hands held her hip, keeping her steady, while the other rested on the bed, his elbow bent to hold his weight above her. Her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, her fingers tangling in his curls as she clung to him, her breaths coming in ragged gasps.

Lando couldn’t get enough of her. He kissed her neck, her shoulders, her collarbone—every inch of skin he could reach. His lips traced a fiery path across her body, leaving marks that claimed her as his. “You’re mine,” he whispered against her skin, his voice thick with possession. “Every part of you. Your pussy, your moans, these fucking perfect tits—all fucking mine.” He pulled back just enough to look down at where their bodies were joined, his cock glistening with her arousal as he slid in and out of her. The sight was obscene, and it made his groin tighten with need. “Fuck, look at you,” he groaned. “Look how fucking wet you are for me. Your pussy’s sucking me in like it doesn’t want to let go.”

She cried out as he thrust deeper, her hips lifting to meet his, eager for more. The friction was almost too much, every drag of his cock inside her sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. She could feel him in places she’d never felt anyone before, his length filling her completely, and the thought alone made her pussy clench around him. “Lando,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “You feel so good. So fucking good. Don’t stop—please, don’t stop.”

He growled, his thrusts becoming harder, more deliberate, as if he was trying to imprint himself on her very soul. “I’m not stopping,” he promised, his voice rough with lust. “Not until you’re screaming my name, until you’re so fucking full of me you can’t think of anyone else.” His hand slid up from her hip to cup her breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple, and she moaned, her back arching off the bed.

Her hips pressed against his, her eagerness driving him wild. He couldn’t believe how responsive she was, how perfectly she matched his rhythm, as if their bodies were made for each other. “You’re so fucking eager for me,” he muttered, his eyes blazing with need. “I love it. I love how much you fucking want me.” His lips crashed onto hers, their breaths mingling, and she could taste herself on his tongue, sweet and addictive.

Their movements grew frantic, desperate—a symphony of skin against skin, breathless moans, and the wet sound of their bodies colliding. She could feel it building, the tight coil in her core winding tighter and tighter until it threatened to snap. Her pussy clenched around him, the sensations overwhelming—every inch of him filling her, stretching her, making her feel impossibly full. The friction was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body, and she could tell from the erratic rhythm of his thrusts that he was close too.

“Please, Lando,” she begged, her voice trembling with desperation. “Come with me. Let me feel you.”

He groaned, his forehead resting against hers as his hips stuttered. “Fuck, baby, come on my cock,” he panted, his voice rough with need. “I want to feel you clench around me. Let go for me.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. Her orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave, her pussy contracting around him in waves of pure ecstasy. It felt like fire and ice all at once—her body trembling, her vision blurring as she cried out his name. Her pussy pulsed around his cock, milking him, and the sensation was so intense she could barely breathe.

For Lando, it was heaven. Her tight, wet walls clenched around him in the most perfect rhythm, fluttering and gripping him like she never wanted to let go. He groaned, low and guttural, as he felt her orgasm ripple through her body, each contraction pulling him closer to the edge. “Fuck, Y/N,” he growled, his voice thick with lust. “Your pussy feels too fucking good. I can’t hold back much longer.”

“Where do you want it, baby?” he panted, his thrusts slowing but still deep, still deliberate. “Tell me where you want me to cum.”

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with desire, and licked her lips. “On my tits,” she whispered, her voice sultry and low. “Cover them. Make a mess of me.”

His eyes widened, his jaw tightening as he tried to hold back. Her tits—god, her perfect tits—had been his obsession for so long, and the thought of covering them with his cum nearly made him lose it. “Jesus Christ, you’re gonna make me lose it,” he panted, staring down at her chest like it was sacred.

She smirked, her confidence growing as she saw the way he looked at her. “You love my tits that much?” she teased, pushing them together with her hands. Her fingers kneaded the soft flesh, her nipples hard and begging for attention. “Come on, then—mark them. Make them yours.”

Lando groaned, his cock twitching inside her at the sight. Her tits were perfection—full, soft, and begging for his cum. He couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled out of her slowly, his cock slick with her arousal, and she whimpered at the loss of him. Her pussy felt empty, aching, but the sight of him stroking himself above her made her throb all over again.

She watched, mesmerized, as he gripped his cock, his hand moving up and down in long, deliberate strokes. Her tits were pushed together now, her hands cupping them, her fingers teasing her nipples. She loved the sight of him—his face flushed, his jaw tight as he fought for control. “Look at me, Lando,” she urged, her voice low and sultry. “You love these tits so much? Then come on them.”

He groaned, his hand moving faster, his eyes locked on her chest. “You’re so fucking perfect like this,” he said through gritted teeth. “Tits pushed up for me… fuck.”

She licked her lips, her eyes full of desire. “I want it all, Lando,” she urged, her voice trembling with need. “Cover me with it—don’t hold back.”

He groaned, his hand moving urgently over his cock as he felt his orgasm building. “You’re all mine,” he growled, his voice thick with possession. “These tits are mine. I’m gonna mark them, Y/N. I’m gonna make sure everyone knows they belong to me.”

She licked her lips, her fingers teasing her nipples as she watched him. “Stroke it for me… faster. Let go. I want every drop. Cover me, Lando. Make me yours.”

Her words were the final push he needed. With a strangled moan, he came, thick ropes of cum spurting onto her tits, coating them in his release. His hand moved furiously over his cock, milking every last drop as he stared down at her, his chest heaving.

For Y/N, the sight was intoxicating. Watching him cum on her tits, seeing the way his face twisted in pleasure, the way his body trembled as he let go—it was almost as good as the orgasm he’d just given her. She felt his cum splattering against her skin, warm and sticky, and she couldn’t help but moan at the sensation. “God, Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You’re so fucking hot like this.”

For Lando, the moment was unreal. The sight of his cum streaked across her tits, the way she looked up at him with those hungry eyes—it was enough to make his knees weak. “You’re so fucking perfect,” he breathed, his voice rough with awe. “I could watch this all day.”

She smirked, her fingers trailing through the sticky warmth of his cum on her chest. With deliberate slowness, she dipped a single finger into the mess, coating it in his release. Her eyes never left his as she brought her finger to her lips, her tongue darting out to taste him. The salty tang of his cum hit her senses, and she moaned softly, her lips curling into a wicked smile as she sucked the finger clean. His cock still rested in his hand, twitching at the sight of her, and she could see the hunger in his eyes—raw, untamed, and absolutely desperate for her.

“Kiss me,” she whispered, her voice low and dripping with desire.

His breath hitched, his body already responding to her command. He leaned down without hesitation, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. Their mouths collided with a hunger that left her dizzy, and she could feel the sticky remnants of his release still on her fingers as she tangled her hand in his hair, pulling him closer. His tongue slid into her mouth, and she moaned, the taste of herself mixed with him—salty, intoxicating—sending a shiver down her spine.

“You taste so fucking good,” he growled against her lips, his voice rough with need. His hands slid up her sides, fingers digging into her skin as if he couldn’t get enough of her. “You’re mine, Y/N. All mine.”

She whimpered into his mouth, her body still trembling from the intensity of their connection. Her hips shifted slightly beneath him, and she could feel the heat of his arousal radiating off him, igniting her own desire all over again.

When he finally broke the kiss, they were both breathless, their foreheads pressed together as they tried to steady themselves. “Stay here,” he murmured, his voice soft but laced with something that made her heart race. He kissed her once more, quick and possessive, before pulling away.

She watched him as he disappeared into the bathroom, her chest still glistening with his release. The sight of his cum streaked across her tits made her cheeks flush, but the warmth in her chest outweighed any lingering embarrassment. He returned moments later with a warm, damp towel in hand, his eyes softening as he knelt beside the bed.

“Let me clean you up,” he said, his voice gentle but no less possessive. She nodded, her breath catching as he pressed the towel to her skin, the warmth soothing the sticky mess he’d left behind. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if he were savoring every moment of this intimacy. His eyes never left her face, and she felt her heart swell at the tenderness in his gaze.

When he was done, he tossed the towel aside and crawled back into bed, pulling her into his arms. Her body melted against his, the warmth of his skin a comforting contrast to the cool air of the room. She rested her head on his chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns over his skin as their breathing slowly synced.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. His arms tightened around her, pulling her closer, and she felt a wave of contentment wash over her. “Mine,” he added, his tone possessive but soft, and she couldn’t help but smile.

“Yours,” she whispered back, her voice barely audible. She closed her eyes, letting the rhythm of his heartbeat lull her into a sense of peace. For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt safe, cherished, and utterly claimed.

They lay there, tangled together, the hum of the city outside a distant reminder of the world beyond their little bubble. For now, it was just the two of them, and she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

Neither spoke for a while, the room thick with the mingled scents of sweat and relief. The adrenaline that had fueled their passion was giving way to a wave of emotions—vulnerability, uncertainty, a fragile sense of hope. Finally, Lando spoke, voice hoarse.

“Y/N?”

She peeked up at him, flushed. She wasn’t used to such intense intimacy, but she nestled against his warmth. “Yeah?”

He swallowed. “I… I don’t regret this. But I need you to know: I’m not just here for one night. I want you in every sense of the word. I’m serious.”

Her chest clenched with emotion. She ran a hand along his jawline, stubble prickling her fingers. “I’m scared,” she confessed quietly. “But… I want you, too. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

His gaze softened. “Then let’s try. Let me show you I can be the man you need. I’ll prove it however long it takes.”

She closed her eyes, soaking in the moment, in the warmth of his embrace. The city lights shimmered outside, as if reflecting her tumultuous inner world. In that moment, though, she let herself believe in the possibility, let the anger and hurt recede in the face of the closeness they’d found.

The hours after their passionate collision were a storm of emotions. She felt a ripple of self-consciousness, but he only looked at her with the same unguarded admiration as before, as though he couldn’t believe she was real.

In the faint glow of the bedside lamp, she saw him glancing around her bedroom—how neatly organized it was, how it contrasted with the chaos they’d just unleashed in the living room. He let out a soft chuckle, leaning back against the pillows.

“You have no idea how many nights I’ve dreamed about just being near you,” he said quietly.

She swallowed a lump of emotion, sinking onto the mattress beside him. “Why me?” she whispered, the familiar insecurity creeping back. “You could have anyone.”

He caught her chin gently, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You keep saying that, but the truth is, not everyone is you. I’ve met countless people. You’re different. It’s in the way you carry yourself, the way you see the world, the way you call me out on my bullshit. And… I can’t even describe it. I just know I want no one else.”

She felt tears threaten again, but they were tears of a tender ache this time, not the angry sting of earlier. “I guess… I need to learn how to trust that.”

He nodded, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Let me earn that trust.”

She scooted closer, letting her head rest on his shoulder. She closed her eyes, letting the warmth of him lull her into a sense of security she’d never quite felt before. Deep down, she knew they had miles to go—her fears about his reputation, her wariness about the future, and the question of whether he would eventually tire of her or not. But for now, she let herself savor this fleeting peace, the sense of belonging in his arms.

Because after nine months of running, she was finally letting herself be caught.

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elliesplug · 8 months ago

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logan when you don't shave

logan howlett x reader

summary: you've been together for months, but how will he react when you forget to shave?

warnings: no smut but still nsfw

word count: 958

His touches make it feel like electricity is coursing through your whole body. Logan’s is simultaneously rough and delicate, his actions contradicting themself and leaving you all worked up.

You and Logan were supposed to be watching a movie tonight but he just can’t control himself around you. You were trying really really hard to focus on the movie but he made this an impossible task. The way he was rubbing tender circles on your thighs, inching further and further to your heat every once in a while, was driving you insane. His strong hands hold you in such a delicate grasp that fills your whole body up with a familiar warmth.

As the movie continued you could tell that Logan’s focus was tuned more onto you than the screen. The touches are slowly getting more impatient. Logan has your body memorized, cherishing every crevice and dip of your body.

The TV lights flicker in the dark, illuminating your features. Your eyebrows are ever so slightly scrunched as you pretend to pay attention to the movie. Logan stares at you with amazement, he will forever be in awe of your beauty. He inches towards you and wraps his arm around you, pulling you in closer. At this point Logan isn't even trying to hide the fact that he's not watching the movie anymore. Then you feel soft pecking on your neck and jaw, causing your breath to hitch. No one needs superhuman abilities to hear how fast your heart is beating.

“Do y’know how pretty you are, sweetheart?” Logan whispers to you.

You turn your head to respond to him, but the second that you open your mouth, his lips are attached to yours. Heavy hands wrap around your whole body, holding you tight. The kiss is passionate yet tender. Logan’s actions are a reflection of how badly he needs you.

Warmth radiates through your whole body. Without thinking your thighs rub together, attempting to give you any form of satisfaction. Noticing this, Logan places his hand behind your head as he guides you to lay down on the couch. Never breaking the kiss. His big hands continue to explore your body with a sense of hunger. The kisses quickly go from tender to rough. You place your hands behind his neck and wrap your legs around him. Logan groans into your mouth at the feeling of your warm body on his. Your panties get damp at that sound alone. And just like that he grinds down on you, both of your clothed centers rubbing on each other. Logan knows how to leave you feeling worked up. As the feeling of pleasure is taking over you, you whimper out his name with a soft sigh.

“Mmm you sound so pretty,” Logan says with a needy tone. “Need you s’ bad.”

A tug on your pants lets you know how eager he is. This feeling of your pants beginning to come off makes you jolt in embarrassment. After remembering that you didn't shave, your whole body is filled with nerves. Breaking the kiss, Logan instantly senses your body’s reaction. He looks down at you with a concerned gaze as he rubs comforting circles on your arm.

“Something wrong, darlin’?” He asks you. “Y’know you can always tell me if something is bothering you?”

Some men hate when you don't shave and some men say they don't mind it, when in reality they do. Its only been a few months with him but to avoid any issues you always shaved. Your fear of Logan’s reaction electrified your senses.

“It's just…I didn't really have the time..” You avoid eye contact in embarrassment before you responded. “I’ve just been pretty busy lately and I forgot to properly clean up…”

You look back at Logan only to find a confused look written all over his face. A horn must've grew out the middle of your forehead the way he was staring at you.

“I just haven't shaved and so maybe we should do this another time y’know?” You answer.

Just like that his confusion is wiped away and replaced with small laughter. Oh God. This is pure humility. You just confessed that and he was giggling? Just simply laughing at you? You instantly regret even telling him that much.

“Sweetheart,” Logan says with a chuckle, “I've been alive for over 200 years and you really think I can't handle a little bit of hair?”

Your eyes are drawn back to him as you listen.

“I don't know about any of those boys you've been with but I'm a man. I could give less of a fuck how you choose to present yourself to me, as long as it's you I'm fine.” He assures you, “In all honesty, if someone is giving that much of theirself to me, and I stop to worry about some hair, then I’ve gotta have some issues, angel.”

As simple as that, all humility leaves your body instantly. His words are genuine and comforting. Making you feel desired comes easy to Logan.

With a low tone he asks you, “You hear me? I want you no matter what. I will never let anything as miniscule as hair stop me from loving you. You got that?”

You cup his face in your hands as you stare up at him. The love he has for you makes your entire body tingle. His rough mutton chops rub between your fingers as you admire him. With a small nod you respond to him.

“Mmmkay” is all you can manage to get out under his gaze.

Logan grins as he hovers over you while placing sweet kisses on your collarbone, “Lemme just show you how much all that doesn't matter to me, sweet thing.”

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momentomori24 · 1 year ago

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Surprisingly, hearing Vox and Val technically (I love how technically needed to be added) aren't dating didn't upset me as much as I thought it would. It did... for like a minute until I thought about how painfully much it fits them.

Val throws tantrums and is ready go out and kill people to let off steam, but decides to stay put in his room and sulk instead while he waits for his flat-faced prince to come and comfort him before he does anything drastic. He's killed and abused people for the slightest hint of non-compliance, which he sees as giving him an attitude or questioning his authority, but he doesn't so much as flinch when Vox raises his voice and starts shaking him in frustration more than once. He doesn't lash out or get angry when Vox tries to talk him out of marching towards the hotel, but instead listens to his points and takes his words to heart even when they weren't what he wanted to hear. He's not interested in Alastor, but is willing to sit through watching the extermination broadcast because Vox is a passionate football dad about his one-sided rival getting dunked on. He doesn't even act jealous towards Vox's obsession, just weirdly amused and supportive even tho he hates not being the center of attention any other times. And then there's Vox, who acts like he's annoyed to have to put up with Valentino but still does it anyway. He acts disinterested about Val's ranting over Angel until he hears that Angel might've quit because he's an jealous, insecure loser that wants that mf's attention to himself. He lights his cigarette and decides to call up their lowest earners for him to terrorize without being asked just to lighten his mood a little (unrelated but i feel for their employees). He keeps his eyes on him both in his room and when he's at the pub through the cameras he's got everywhere. He takes his hand like one would with a princess and smiles fondly at him before disappearing when noticing they're being watched. He's the only person that Val trusts enough to calm him down when his temper gets the better of him. And Val-- despite his volatile temper and obnoxious quirks-- is someone he respects and cares about, both as his business associate and romantic partner.

And they aren't dating. Val and Vox clearly have a connection and understanding and attraction yet are unable to confront those feelings in fear of being vulnerable. So they aren't dating. Val obsesses over Angel and Vox obsesses over Alastor to distract themselves of the other only to fall back into each other's arms at the end of the day. Even tho they aren't dating. They celebrate, dance, sing, support and shamelessly make out with each other. They're the only ones that would put up with each other's bullshit no matter what-- but for some reason, they're still not dating. They are two of the worst Overlords in Hell, capable of committing so many despicable acts and jumping to immoral tactics for their own gain without any regrets, but opening that door into genuine emotional vulnerability? Acknowledging their softness for each other? That's where they draw the line. They're clearly made for each other, but neither of them dare to step over that line to commit to something more.

Which means that we could get to actually see these changes take place. We could get to see more sides to these two we still haven't seen before. We could get to see them actually start dating and the complicated journey it took to get there. We could get to scream and kick and seeth as these two morons continue to dance around admitting their very much requited romantic feelings for every stupid reason under the sun episode after episode. We could get to see these two fix each other and make each other worse simultaneously. Mostly make each other worse. We could get to see them have a romantic duet. We could get to see them be happy together-- officially together-- while they make life worse for everyone around them.

All this mumbo-jumbo, sleep-deprived ranting will likely not happen, but the potential character growth, the dynamic development, the resolved romantic tension, the SONGS we could get??? I'm clinging onto this hope for dear life until it's ripped from my cold, dead hands.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel valentino #voxval #staticmoth #only a few things make me giddier than two horrible men being less horrible when they're together #two businessmen who keep their hearts behind lock and key and refuse to acknowledge that they might actually be in love #whose actions speak louder than words even when they don't want them to #this is absolutely fueled by the bad liars comic by lola summer and how it portrayed their dynamic btw #and by the valentino animatic as well #case in point i really want some tender moments between these two and the vees in general #like please #viv please #not brushing this up have my incoherent rambling about these two in its purest form #i'm frothing at the mouth over these two and you're going to suffer through this mess with me #shoutout to all the staticmoth shippers that used viv's confirmation about them not dating to make themselves stronger you guys are awesome #momento rambles

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star3synth · 7 months ago

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alright screw it it’s prsk x bandori headcanon time >:3

specifically centering vivid bad squad and multiple bandori groups!

this will be a long post (because i am Very Normal about both of these games /j) so i will put the headcanons under the cut!

- akito is a secret pasupare fan. the fandom headcanon that he likes mmj is really funny to me so bam. he likes 2 idol groups now because haha funny. his favorite member is a tie between aya and chisato

- on a somewhat related note, kohane is a huge afterglow fan. like on the same level as her interest in wonderlands x showtime in canon. however, none of the other vbs members know much about them (besides an, who may or may not have been practically dragged to taken to a few of their concerts). this has created several scenarios where all of vbs has run into some of the afterglow members and interacted with them normally while kohane is just. exploding internally

- minori and shiho have also been witnesses to the Kohane Afterglow Fan Rambles™️

- akito and tomoe both share the same tendency to overwork themselves for the sake of their passions. all of their groupmates do not appreciate this.

- tomoe knows that akito likes toya romantically but hasn’t told toya yet. akito also knows that tomoe likes kaoru romantically but hasn’t told kaoru yet. they both take every opportunity humanly possible to tease each other about those two facts

- (add on scenario to above hc) “tomoe. for the love of god please just take kaoru out on a date already. if i have to see another second of you two pining for each other i will throw both of you off of a cliff.” “yeah, i won’t be doing that until you say something important to toya. i can even push you off said cliff afterwards.” “…” “point taken i assume?”

- akito and chu2 met at a performance event both groups participated in, interacted with each other one (1) time after the performance, and instantly HATED each other. they both immediately got into a heated argument over their ideals clashing (with some pettiness involved, obviously). an tried to diffuse said heated argument by making a short joke directed at chu2…and then obviously got involved in the argument/ yelling match at that point. kohane, pareo, and toya tried to stop the argument with no result and both groups were escorted out of the livehouse for being disruptive <3

- over time akito and chu2 (very reluctantly) interacted more and their relationship evolves more into a mutual rivalry rather than just being fueled by hate. don’t worry though, they still have plenty of hate for each other, and their groupmates could provide lots of proof of that >:)

- one time akito went to a pasupare performance that was nearby. pareo and rei also went to said performance and recognized him. pareo and rei were both happy that they shared an interest and then akito had to somehow convince both of them (mostly pareo) to not ever bring this up to the rest of vbs

- somehow, kohane got roped into going on a motorcycle ride with masuki. kohane thought that the scenery they both saw on their ride was really cool and that masuki was a very nice person, but was also simultaneously terrified for the entire duration of the motorcycle ride.

- all of harohapi (except for kaoru) and all of vbs (except for toya) love rollercoasters. both groups go to an amusement park on the same day and toya and kaoru are Mutually Suffering because of their mutual fear of heights. toya takes the sensible option and elects to not go on some of the rollercoasters. meanwhile out of pride, and not wanting to let down her bandmates, kaoru says absolutely nothing about it and just decides to go on said rollercoasters and suffer in silence. kaoru also doesn’t say anything about her fear of heights until misaki has had to press them into talking about it repeatedly because she’s known kaoru long enough to know when they’re uncomfortable and don’t want to admit it.

- once kaoru admitted the truth about her fear, she told toya about the time that harohapi performed while skydiving and that they passed out midair while doing so. toya was understandably horrified.

- unfortunately for misaki, both an and kohane have absolutely no clue that her and michelle are the same person despite misaki trying to tell them that several times. they both have now been added to misaki’s very long list of people who cannot find out the truth.

- kaoru 🤝 an she/ they nonbinary bi + nonbinary lesbian solidarity

- toya knows both rui (the morfonica rui, not the purple inventor rui) and rinko since all three of them participated in classical music competitions in similar areas during their childhoods. despite the difficulty of what toya has endured surrounding classical music, toya admires that both of them have gone so far with their passions and he genuinely likes interacting with both of them now in everyday life, but he understandably doesn’t intend to tell either of them the extent of what he has gone through with piano and classical music.

- an, saaya, and tsugumi have formed a friendship together over their mutual love of cooking/ baking! an has taught both of them how to cook some dishes that used to be served at weekend cafe, and in return saaya taught tsugumi and an how to make some different types of breads! tsugumi also taught both of them how to make some pastries that are served at hazawa cafe!

- tae showed kohane some pictures of their rabbits and kohane thought the little guys were absolutely adorable. kohane then showed tae some pictures of count pearl and then was overjoyed that tae wasn’t terrified of her and thought the snake was super cute

- saaya has convinced toya to also join her in liking photography and toya has a film camera because of her. toya likes to mostly take pictures of landscapes and his friends

- akito and ako know each other since they both play NFO and are at around the same experience level. since their in-game classes complement each other well, they have completed some in- game events/ challenges together, but they haven’t ever talked in person.

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fantasyheroine · 6 months ago

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Written in the Stars - Chapter 1

Pairings: Astarion x Tav

Rating: Explicit

Summary: For months Astarion and Tav have been growing closer and both of them would consider the other a good friend at this point. But is friendship really what either of them truly want? One night has the potential to change their relationship forever. Will the two of them be able to overcome the hurdles a new romance throws their way while they navigate the impending threat of the Netherbrain? Or will past trauma's come back to haunt them permanently? Get swept up in this whirlwind of passion, love, and fear as the characters of Baldur's Gate 3 take on the Cult of the Absolute.

Playlist for the fic

Read on AO3

Beta Read By: @thespookypumpkinwitch

Banner Created By: @rahuratna

Tag List: @rahuratna

Chapter 1: The Start of Something New

Word Count: 4,668

Warnings: None

Song: Taylor Swift - Everything Has Changed

A/N: This is my first time publishing a fic so please be kind if things are slightly off. I am doing my best to follow the course of the game but if some details are missing or incorrect I apologize. All photos and music linked along with this story are not my own unless otherwise stated. If I happen to include your work please let me know if you want it taken down or credit added. Thanks!

Astarion looked around the campsite, his eyes trailing over his companions. The log beneath him at the edges of camp provided the perfect position to observe everyone going about their nightly routine while simultaneously keeping him obscured in shadow. He watched as his companions started to retreat back into their tents as they shouted out goodnights to one another. The only person his keen eyes couldn’t spot was Tav. The fabric of his ruffled, white, camp shirt crumpled as he shifted slightly in his seat. It was unlike the Elven woman to not partake in the nightly merriment. Especially recently, considering the huge victory she had led them to days prior. Liquid swirled as he rotated his goblet before taking a sip of wine, drifting deep in thought, nose wrinkling at the bitter taste. *Where could she be?* He scoffed at himself, hating how his mind always lingered on thoughts of her when he was alone. She was very more than likely back at Last Light Inn. The Refugees and Harpers had been keeping her particularly preoccupied with their constant praises. Glory be to the mighty Tav and all that. Truth be told, he hated how much attention she had been getting lately. It grated on his nerves, not because she didn’t deserve the praise, but because it meant she had stopped paying attention to him. Too caught up in entertaining the others to spend even a fraction of her precious time by his side. *How annoying.* Pointed ears picked up on the faintest hint of footsteps and instantly he was sitting straighter. Damn. He had been so deep into his thoughts about her that he had let his guard down. With ease, he quickly threw up his mask of practiced charm, starting to offer the approaching person a blasé smile. His eyes went wide for the briefest moment as he saw that the woman he had been thinking about was now standing in front of him. The smile softened into something a little more genuine.

“Hello, darling.” he purred. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Astarion, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Tav was winded, as if she had been running around the whole of the Shadowfell looking for him. Which is exactly what she had been doing. Well, not in the Shadowfell per say, but she’d been dodging people all night at the Inn and camp trying to find where he was hiding out. She took a deep inhale, now able to catch her breath since the man in question had been found.

His smile quirked up a bit at the edge of his mouth and he raised a perfectly maintained eyebrow. So her lack of presence tonight in camp had been because she was searching for him. Interesting. His tone of voice took on a teasing lilt.

“For me? My my, I’m quite flattered. What do you need?”

The woman regarded him for a moment. His bant did not go unnoticed, and usually she would have responded in kind, but tonight she had a serious reason for seeking him out. It had been exactly three days since their party had killed Kethric Thorm. And it had been nearly one and a half months since she had let Astarion feed from her. Originally when all of them had crossed over into the Shadow-Cursed lands she had maintained their regular schedule of every other day feedings; but, as the curse dedicatedly crept into her bones more and more, day after day, she had found herself becoming increasingly drained. Explaining to Astarion that she couldn’t keep feeding him while the curse persisted had been a difficult conversation and still she felt a heap of guilt from the betrayed look he had given her. *Stop that. He forgave you. You don’t have to feel guilty anymore.* Loose hairs swished as she shook her head, the curse was lifted now and the threat at Moonrise had been eliminated. There was no longer any reason to prevent him from drinking her blood. Well, minus the tiny fact of how the act made her heart ache and legs clench. But that was the other reason she was here now, wasn’t it. After months upon months of flirting and rising tensions, she was finally going to give in to what he wanted. *Best to start with the easier of the two tasks.* She looked him up and down again and saw just how pale he looked in tonight’s moonlight. The porcelain glow of his skin paler than usual. The hollow of his cheeks betraying how starved for blood he’d been.

“I was going to offer to you that we can restart your feeding arrangements. I feel better now that the curse is gone.”

Ear tips twitched in surprise. He hadn’t been expecting that. To say his body didn’t tingle with excitement at the prospect of getting to drink her delicious blood again would have been a lie; but all the same, he was slightly concerned by the offer. Tav had nearly died in the battle with Kethric, and while she looked completely recovered, he didn’t fully believe that feeding from her wouldn’t have repercussions in the morning. He eyed her cautiously.

“Are you sure about that? You have only recently gotten back on your feet. Are you certain you are up for it?”

Tav glanced at him once more. Gods, he looked so hungry. And yet here he was hesitating, for her sake. Her heart beat a little harder than normal. If this moment had occurred back at the start of their time together, he would have bit her in an instant, but after months of travelling, the two of them had developed a close friendship. Despite what the others might think about him Tav knew that deep down Astarion did care about their well being. Hers in particular, if Karlach was to be believed. But that wasn’t relevant right now. She had a mission to complete. A step took her closer to him, a resolute look dancing on her face.

“I’m sure. You look absolutely famished.”

He glanced back and forth between her eyes. Her brown orbs screamed sincerity… and authority. He knew that look. Knew that it meant she wasn’t going to accept a ‘no thank you’ as an answer. Sighing, he let his gaze shift to the exposed skin of her neck. Her head had tilted slightly to give him a better view. The pulse of her heart visible in the essential artery. *Little minx.* She was trying to tempt him. *Bold of her.* Unconsciously his body leaned in closer. He couldn’t deny that he was starving, and the sound of her blood thrumming through her veins had him salivating while running his tongue along the points of sharp fangs.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to have a taste again…”

His voice was rough with longing and the sound shot sparks of electricity down her spine. Waves trickled along her flesh as she shuddered despite her best efforts to hold it back. Even if he was only talking about her blood, the effects on hearing his desire remained. She thought back to the first few times she had let him feed. In the beginning, having his fangs in her neck had hurt and the feeling of him drawing her blood out of her body had caused a natural panic to rise in her stomach. Over time, though, the more she let him drink from her, the more the sensations had turned pleasurable. Now when he drank, she felt the way his lips brushed softly against her neck. Caressing. She felt how his tongue expertly lapped at the blood his fangs pulled from her body. Devouring. She felt… *Stop that!* Peachy orange lips tightened. She had to pull herself together. Astarion didn’t want some pinning schoolgirl, he wanted an experienced woman who could play his games. She dropped her tone into a more sultry one and gave him a charming smile while batting long lashes.

“Then go ahead.”

His body simply reacted, his sanguine hunger driving him forward. He reached for Tav and in a heartbeat had her pulled onto his lap. One of his arms snaked its way around her middle and he brought the other to cradle the back of her head. Slender, nimble fingers played with the little hairs at the nape of her neck, coaxing her to tilt more. He breathed in her scent. *Lovely. She smells so lovely.* To him, there was no one else in all of Faerûn that smelled as wonderful as she did. Astarion’s eyes closed and he hovered his mouth over her pounding carotid. *Just a taste. Not enough to hurt her. No… just enough to quell my hunger.*

Cool breath wafted across her skin as his fangs found their place, but Tav could sense his continued hesitation. *Don’t stop. I’ll be ok.* Her hand slipped up his back to the base of his skull and with a low, murmured encouragement she pushed him further into her neck.

“You can bite me, Astarion.”

He needed no further incentive. Bowed lips parted and his fangs sunk into her soft flesh. When the first drop hit his tongue, a quiet moan escaped him. Gods! She tasted so damn good! Every bit of the experience was just as excellent as he remembered. Her blood, her scent, her skin. The only difference from their past feedings was that he had her in his lap, bodies pressed up tightly against each other, instead of both of them laying down in her tent. Why had he ever stopped doing this…? *Right, the curse had made her weak…* Well, now that she was better, he had no plans of stopping ever again. He continued to drink from her, still being careful but increasing in feverity. Fuck, she was divine. His arm around her waist tugged at her body. He needed her closer. Need to feel her full weight in his lap, against his chest. Her fingers were tangling in his curls and everything about this moment felt so Godsdamn right.

She leaned into him at his prompting, a small moan passing through her lips as well at the bite. It had been so long since he had fed from her… And yet, she didn’t think she could ever forget the feeling of his fangs in her neck. Like tiny icicles of pure pleasure. She knew for a fact she definitely couldn’t forget the emotions the act brought to the surface. Lust mixed with affection, satisfaction. Her heart pounded against her chest. Both from the extra work it now had to do to sustain the blood loss but also because of everything she felt for her Vampiric companion. Months on the road together had found her developing feelings for the High Elf. Not that she hadn’t found him attractive from day one, but the more she got to know him, the harder she fell. Now her heart leapt simply at the anticipation of seeing him, at getting to talk and spend time with him. She knew she had it bad. *He doesn’t feel the same Tav. Just take what you can get tonight and then work on letting go.* A tiny tear pricked at the corner of her eye.

Astarion could taste the change in her demeanor. Her blood had gone slightly bitter. He pulled his head away and studied her face. The glimmer of the overhead stars reflected in her unshed tear and he reached up a finger to brush it away.

“I hurt you.”

It wasn’t a question. *Shit. I knew I shouldn’t have drank from her tonight. Well done you dumbass, now you’ve caused her pain.* He wanted to scowl at his carelessness but another look at her face had him steeling his expression.

The panic hit her instantly. No! No! No! This was not how tonight was supposed to go! She grabbed his face and shook her head adamantly.

“No! You didn’t hurt me! Please, don’t stop. You still look so hungry. I’m ok. Really… Here.”

She tilted her head again, trying to push his face back into her neck. Drops of hot, red blood still trickled out of the puncture wounds.

He resisted and frowned. Everyone knew Tav had a tendency of putting the needs of others before her own. And that tear… there had to be a reason behind it.

“Tav…” he started slowly. “You were starting to tear up…”

She groaned internally. Damn her stupid mind getting carried away in stupid thoughts. How had he known about that damn stupid tear? His face was burried in her neck for fucks sake. There was no way he should have seen it. How could she play this off? Her mind whirled a mile a minute and soon she was spinning a tale she hoped was convincing.

“I’ll be honest with you Astarion. I did have some tears starting to form in my eyes but not because of pain. You see, I had forgotten what it felt like, having your fangs in my neck.” She dropped her voice back into the sultry tone she had used before. “I had forgotten how good it feels… So don’t mistake that little bit of wetness in my eye as pain… Because it definitely wasn’t.”

He scoffed. Like hells it didn’t have anything to do with pain.

“Darling… don’t lie to me. You’re seeming to forget the little fact that I can taste the difference.”

Shit. She hadn’t thought of that. How could he taste the difference between her tearing up due to pleasure than from sadness? Did the flavor of her blood change with her emotions? That was an unsettling thought. And if it was true… Oh Gods, he had probably tasted her arousal at every feeding. How embarrassing! Fuck. Now what was she supposed to do? Apparently her blood was giving away all of her secrets. Maybe she should just give up and call tonight a loss. At the very least nothing would change then. She wouldn’t have to risk losing him.

As Tav’s mind swirled in growing despair, Astarion found himself in the similar state of confusion he always fell into when it came to her. He couldn't understand why she was lying about this? Surely they were close enough by now for her to feel comfortable admitting when she was in pain. Especially if it had to do with him feeding. And surely she knew that lying to him of all people was a lost cause, so what was her motive then? He replayed the whole night’s conversation in his mind. She had approached him. Offered to restart their arrangement and wouldn’t take no for an answer. *What else?* She had been looking for him all night. Was relieved when she had found him but there’d been something more. Something else behind her eyes. He examined her expression. Yes, something was different tonight. He knew he was correct in his assessment because he could still see it, there, burning within the dark brown of her irises. That fire… that was a fire he was used to seeing. He recalled the few times she had spoken to him with a hint of lust on her tongue. *So that’s what she wants.* He pulled back and nonchalantly examined his nails while fixing a smug grin onto his face.

“If it’s sex you’re wanting, you could have just said so. You didn’t have to put on this whole charade of acting like you wanted to feed me simply to seduce me. After all, the offer has been on the table for some time now. It’s not like I was going to take it away. Aheh, honestly, I’m surprised you held out for as long as you did. I’m quite irresistible, you know.”

The act came to him naturally, and as he returned to the easy performance he had put on for centuries; he forced out any of the negative feelings cropping up in his mind surrounding how much he had been hoping she was different.

Tav’s eyes went wide. She had not been expecting to be called out like that. Her body shifted uncomfortably in his lap and both parties let out a hiss at the unintentional grinding motion. *Shit!* She hadn’t meant to do that. Quickly she glanced at his face. Damn it! There was that fake expression he always wore. She had to explain to him that there was more behind her intentions than just attraction to his body. More than a simple carnal desire.

“Astarion, that’s not…”

He cut her off with a dramatic eye roll.

“Oh please. Don’t play coy, my dear. It doesn’t suit you… I can tell that you want me.”

The truth was written across her face. In the shock and panic that now befell her countenance. In the little hiss she had made as her body had moved over his. If he had still been alive, his heart would have been racing. For so long he had been pursuing her. Trying to get her to fall into his trap of seduction. And for so long she had resisted. It had frustrated him, amused him. Her constant refusals, adamant rebuttals. For a second he had started to believe that she hadn’t fallen for it. His elaborate trick. But clearly she had. Why else would she be here now, searching for sex if she had not fallen for his ploy. Now he stood at the precipice of winning the unspoken game they had been playing for months. He had done it. Finally seduced her enough into sleeping with him. He thought it would make him feel triumphant, secure, but instead he felt like he might explode. Why did this feel wrong? Without another thought he leaned into the ruse, pulling out every stop. What would it say about him if he suddenly retracted the offer that had stood since the beginning of their journey? No. He would stick with what he knew. Flattery paired with tantalizing teasing. The combination always seemed to do the trick at getting people where he wanted them and he had no doubt that it would now work on Tav. She would fall and he would get his protection.

“You know, I’ve always been rather fond of your blunt honesty, it’s a shame you’ve stopped it. Especially when I am more than willing to give you what you desire. Just tell me the truth. You want sex, plain and simple. You want me to sweep you up in my arms and whisk you away to my tent so you can get lost in me as I ravish you with my teeth, my tongue, and then, my…”

Tav covered his mouth with her hands before he could finish his lewd statement.

“No. You don’t understand! I don’t want to lose myself in you. I want to lose myself with you. I want it to mean something, Astarion… Why do you think after all of this time I’m just coming to you now? It’s not what you think. I don’t actually want sex… I just want you…”

Her voice broke slightly at the confession. It wasn’t the full truth of what she wanted but she knew she had to approach the topic with him carefully. So many parts of her were afraid that if she laid it all bare he would run. It had taken her so long to gain his trust. Even longer to gain his friendship. If she spoke out loud the true depths of what she felt for him she had no doubt that everything they were would come crumbling down around her. She didn’t think she could take the pain of losing him. Which is why she had approached this night with the sole intention of giving in to his propositions and then moving on. Never in a million years had she thought she would end up confessing her feelings to him!

Astarion felt like he couldn’t move. The sudden brevity with which she’d spoken. It shattered the small understanding of the world he had. Could she have…? No. There was no way she had fallen for him without ever having slept with him. That just… That wasn’t how things happened. Not how the world worked. This was all another ploy. Another tactic to trick him like everyone else in his life had. It couldn’t be anything else. After all, why in all Nine Hells would she like him out of all of their companions. He had offered her nothing. Given her nothing. Still hadn’t, as far as he was aware. And yet… She sounded so. bloody. honest. His eyes came back into focus and he spotted the tears pricking at her eyes again. *Why is she crying?* A funny feeling crept into his chest at the sight of her building tears. He didn’t like seeing her face scrunched up like that. It hurt. He felt his own face settling into a frown and then she was rambling. Speaking so fast he could hardly make out the words.

“Iknowit’sprobablynotwhatyouwanttohear! IknowyoujustwantsomethinglightandcasualbutI… I…”

She took a shuddering breath, whatever she was going to say fizzling out. She swallowed hard. Oh Gods. She had almost said it. Said the four little words that would break everything they had. The tears fell. They swept down her cheeks in a silent cascade and Tav pushed herself off his lap.

Her hands made contact with his chest and that was the last bit of her he felt before she was rising to her feet, up and away. His mind finally caught up to the present and he realized with horror that she was leaving him! She was climbing off his lap and leaving him! *NO!* His hands reached out with rapid speed and caught her around the waist. She froze. Clammy fingers dug into the fabric of her camp shirt and crumpled it under the intensity of his grip. *Say something you idiot!* He opened his mouth and then promptly closed it. What was he supposed to say? Lying to her in this moment didn’t feel right. Trying to continue to get her back into his tent didn’t feel right. He stared at her blankly as his mind spun in unending circles.

Shit! She had broken him. Done the very thing she was afraid of doing. He was going to push her away for sure now. No chance would he trust her again. Those tears kept falling, and slowly, with the same gentleness one would have when handling fine china, she unwrapped his fingers from her shirt.

He felt her hands on his and the touch was a balm to the storm raging inside his head. But then he realized she was forcing him to let go of her. Unwrapping his fingers one by one as she slowly pulled away again. He couldn’t let that happen! Abruptly he stood from the log and she stumbled back a bit. Without thinking he crashed his body into hers, hands grabbing, lips searching. His mouth connected with a tear stained cheek. Not what he was looking for. He maneuvered so that his face would be more in line with hers and he hit his mark.

As his lips made contact Tav let out a startled squeak. He took full advantage of her slightly parted mouth and kissed her deeper. Her knees wobbled. What the fuck was happening!? Was he actually kissing her!? *Oh shit! I should kiss back!* She started to move in response to him. The groan he let out as her tongue brushed against his was sinful. Wobbly legs fully collapsed from under her but it didn’t matter because Astarion had her in a death grip, keeping her firmly in place. His kiss had already been desperate but now it had turned frantic. She felt his hands clawing at her back, pushing her closer. He had her squished between his chest and his arms and it was taking her breath away. Not in the good way either. No. She couldn’t breathe! The realization that he had knocked the wind out of her hit all at once. *AIR! I need air!!!* Her fists started pounding on his chest but she could barely get any gusto behind them due to how tightly she was being held. Her mind then remembered that Vampires didn’t need to breathe and the panic set in. He wasn’t going to stop! Something had come over him and he wasn’t going to stop kissing her because he didn’t need to breathe! *Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!* As her head started to spin she tried a new plan. She hooked a heel around his leg and quickly knocked him off balance gaining a temporary moment of advantage over the situation. As their mouths finally disconnected, Tav had mere seconds to gulp in the oxygen she needed before they were both falling.

Astarion felt his leg get swept out from under him before the earth came up to meet his back and buttocks as he fell prone. Tav landed on top of him with a heavy thud and the impact jostled his bones. Her forehead cracked against his chin and soon blood was pooling inside his mouth. *What the fuck was happening?* Memories from the past several minutes came flooding into his brain and he realized that he had been kissing the life out of Tav. Above him he heard loud groaning and looked up. Tav was rubbing her head in pain. Under her fingers was a giant red mark that was already starting to bruise. She glared at him.

“What the fuck, Astarion!”

He blinked. Once. Twice. And then his voice was coming out shaky.

“Are you alright?”

Tav looked at him completely bewildered. Was he actually serious?

“No, I’m not alright! First you were kissing me to death, and then you were pulling me down with you as you fell when I tried to get you to stop fucking kissing me!!!”

Oh. So she was the one who had made him fall. Red eyes glanced towards where his hands still held her in a death grip. OH. Oh shit. He had pulled her down with him. He was why her head had hit his chin. Remorse came bubbling up and instantly his hands dropped from her body. What in the Hells had he been thinking!? Kissing her out of the blue like that! And then on top of it all he hadn’t even realized that she needed to breathe! Truly, what in all the Hells had come over him!? She rolled off of him now that he had stopped pinning her against his body, and collapsed by his side, panting. Then she started laughing. The sound was like melodic bells swaying in the wind and his chest clenched again.

“HAHAHA!!! Damn! I didn’t know you wanted me that desperately! I almost feel bad for turning you down so many times. It was clearly driving you insane. But if that’s the reaction I get from making you wait, well then, I don’t think I’m that sorry.”

He was back to his old self in seconds with help from her teasing.

“Oh pet, you have no idea how desperate I’ve been. I’ve been waiting to have you since the moment I saw you.”

Fluidly rolling onto her stomach she fixed him with a playful smirk. Her face sat in her hands and her legs kicked gleefully behind her.

“Really? You’ve been wanting to have me ever since you held a dagger to my throat?”

His own smirk crept into place. Oh she just had to bring that up didn’t she. *Cheeky little pup.* Well, since she no longer seemed mad, he might as well play along.

“Darling, please. That was just a bit of foreplay. Nothing like a touch of danger to get the excitement building. Ask Gale, he knows what I am talking about.” She let out another loud laugh and his gaze on her softened. When was the last time she had looked this carefree? It truly highlighted every one of her beautiful features… As her laughter died down the air took on a more somber tone. He had kissed her recklessly. Hurt her and confused her. He himself felt confused by his actions. All he could remember as to why, was the unyielding fear he’d felt as she had moved away from him. He laid his head back against the ground and stared at the dark sky above.

Tav took the quiet moment to study him. His face gave away nothing. *Typical. He never talks about his feelings.* Instead of pressing the matter, she simply rolled over once again and joined him in staring at the stars. The silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity. Then finally he spoke.

“I don’t know how to do this, you know… Be more than a body to keep your bed theoretically warm.”

The admission floated through the dark for a while as neither of them said anything. It spun and twisted up into the clouds until it became one with the night. Her voice was quiet as she responded.

“Then let me show you…”

She hoped beyond hope that he would let her in. Give her a chance. In her mind, no one was as deserving of love as he was, and she only wished that he would let her give it, for she had so much of it to give.

Fluffy white swayed as he turned to look at her once more. She was still staring at the sky but there was a sadness to her. *Pity!* But she had never pitied him. Even with all that he had revealed to her about his past, never once had she pitied him. No. It had always been barely concealed heartbreak that sat within her features as she listened to his story. She got angry on his behalf. Fought on his behalf. Cried on his behalf. She fed him, protected him, defended him. And against all odds she had stuck by his side through it all. It wasn’t pity, he knew that much, but he had absolutely no idea what that look actually meant. He turned away from her again, the sight of her light skin glowing under the moon too much for him to bear. Every part of her was so beautiful. So kind and caring. So full of love… A shooting star passed overhead and he heard her subtle gasp.

“Make a wish, Astarion.”

He took another moment to track the streak of light before he closed his eyes and made his wish. *See me Tav…*

A/N: Hey all! I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. There are many more to come. If anyone wants to be added to the taglist drop a comment on this post and I will add you.

#astarion x tav #astarion x oc #baldur's gate 3 #female tav #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #romance #bg3 #astarion romance #astarion/tav #astarion/oc #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 fanfiction #fluff #angst #baldurs gate fanfiction #bg3 tav #fanfiction #astarion

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holmesunenthusiast · 3 months ago

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hypothetical: if you had to choose only one holmes adaptation to exist and all the others got wiped from existence. What would the one be

OH GOD THE FATE OF THE WORLD IS IN MY HANDS

Confession time I'm actually a fake ass fan cuz I fear I've never watched the famously beloved ones 💔💔 I saw some of the Granada and the Soviet shows but I never had the time to properly sit down and appreciate them!! All this to say I'm excluding them from my answer because I'm hashtag not informed.

I think the ones I find most impactful/most enjoyable are the Enola Holmes movies, the Rdj films, The Great Mouse Detective, Moriarty the Patriot, and BBC Sherlock. Honorable mention to Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd century but I cannot in good faith put it up there with these I'm sorry SH22 😓 Sooo I'm picking from those!

Cut cuz this may get long... You can ignore this and scroll all the way to the bottom for my answer I'm so sorry for this omg 😭😭

The RDJ films have all the makings of an adaptation I should seriously hate, but at the same time it's such a fun new angle for Holmes that I'm kind of impressed at the audacity and just loop right back to enjoying them LMFAO like sure I GUESS Sherlock Holmes can be an action hero if you want him to be 🤷🤷🤷 I mean he canonically boxes so... Good job?? On that?? I think the premise is absolutely ridiculous but the cinematography, the acting, and the soundtrack all work together so beautifully to create a series that I love against all odds. (Still waiting on the third btw 💔) HOWEVER... I can't keep it around because of what it does to my girl Irene Norton. I HATEEEEE Irene as a Holmes love interest with all my heart and soul. Bad premise. Idc if she died. It should've never happened in the first place. Rachel Macadams I'm sorry they did this to you you could've been so much better.

Enola Holmes is another one which I feel absolutely masters the aesthetic it's going for. Enola herself is so charming, the music is whimsical, the setting and costumes are perfectly colorful, it's a SUPER fun watch... For anyone who can ignore the major canon changes 💀 the most HEINOUS issue imo was how they massacred my man Mycroft because WHO is this obsessive, unintelligent misogynist???? That is NOT Mycroft Holmes pls he would not GAF if his sister was a genius or whatever he would probably RECOMMEND for her to go to school but if she fought THAT hard his ass would not fight back. Get real. If anything SHERLOCK would be the one who would be more in support of his sisters schooling/marriage for reasons of safety and whatnot bc he deals with crime all day. I hate Enolas Mycroft with a burning passion for God's sake there was no reason for them to be doing allat they could've just invented a father 🤦🤦

Another, slightly more nitpicky critique I had was the choice to racebend and genderbend Morairty... Now I'm the last mf to be pointing the racebend finger because I pull the woke forced diversity stunt every time I stylize ACD canon characters. a Netflix casting director hates to see me pull up to the forced diversity competition. HOWEVER. I think that given the sort of story that Enola Holmes is trying to tell about female empowerment while simultaneously ignoring how intersectionality plays into that... It's fine. It WOULD be fine if we were creating a verse where we don't think too hard about these things. But Professor Moriarty?? Being made a black woman? Professor Moriarty works from a place of privilege. He has a strong academic history and is someone that is difficult to mark down without HEAVY evidence. No one will believe you because he's established himself as just some MATHEMATICIAN! What's he gonna do threaten you with a quadratic formula?? He's too Smart and White and Rich to be a bad guy. He is THE Quintessential White Man to be villainizing in your very simple feminist narrative!! 😭 You had everything you could possibly want Enola HOW did you fuck this up oml 🤦‍♂️ and then to have Mira Troy just reveal her identity... WHEN THE ONLY WAY MORIARTY MANAGED TO OPERATE THE WAY HE DID IS CUZ NO ONE KNEW HIM😑. pls don't play with me if there's any character that gets more butchered in Holmes adaptations than Irene it's Moriarty.

Which is my perfect segue into Moriarty the Patriot. In terms of representing Moriarty as a figure no one in the public would ever expect as a criminal, they've done a stellar job. Easily one of the best adaptations in terms of understanding WHY it would be difficult to expose a guy like him. He's a PHILANTHROPIST. He HELPS people. How could someone like him also be a criminal??? So in all that, nice work. Making Moriarty the protagonist is a very creative choice. Now my problem here is Holmes (and not just his atrocious ass anime boy design I should kick this thing to the curb just for that). I. REALLY. Don't like the whole "finally my worthy opponent" dynamic being laced with like a love for the chase. Holmes was at his absolute LOWEST when he was going up against Moriarty and Moriarty was shitting his pants that The Sherlock Holmes was on his tail. I get that they needed their enemies to lovers yaoi but did we have to stoop to Sheri///arty territory 🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️. It was bound to happen I'm just sad it happened in a series that actually puts Moriarty in the kind of position that'd make it hard for Holmes to take him down that goes beyond "he's caaaRAYZAYYYYY 🤪". Also the redemption arc was bullshitty and gay and I hate it. It had some really good elements and I enjoyed watching the first season but afterwards it just hurt to see them make MORIARTY more important to Holmes than fuckin DR JOHN H. WATSON. Don't play with me anime I am not the one 🙄

Aaaand now we're down to BBC and Disney. This truly seems bleak BUT I have to go back to your wording for this question cuz I feel like these two have DEEP roots and "wiped from existence" means I have to live with a lot less than just a bad Holmes adaptation. And this is about BBC specifically because TGMD is GOOD. Actually it's one of the adaptations that I think BEST represents Holmess mood. I know it's just a mouse who lives in his house who's like factkinning him but this mouse did his HOMEWORK okay? He perfectly captured holmess ups and downs, his moodswings, his recovery after moodswings, his tenderness and his ACTUAL CARE for the people hes working to help. And Dawson is the PERFECT WATSON!! He's a FANBOY. He's amazed at everything Basil is accomplishing, he finds him strange but brilliant and he is loyal and noble and SO KIND. The scene after Olivia gets kidnapped I think is my absolute favorite in terms of how it represents them. Basil is furious they lost the trail, he gets angry at Dawson for exactly a second but then he sees Dawson crying and immediately stops, reflects, and COMFORTS HIM. Oh my god you did it. You made Holmes smart and capable and calculating and brilliant and NOT AN ASSHOLE.

And I feel like just by describing TGMDs pros I've highlights all of BBCs shortcomings. The cases are not smart, not well thought out, and not interesting to follow. The characters are shallow and so too are their relationships. It only made it this far because I am replying to this message on the BBC Sherlock founded website. That's one of our forefathers unfortunately it was the kind of forefather you barely even consider sending a Christmas card to. It is undoubtedly influential and once I wiped the acd canon from my memory and also threw away my dignity and offense that a company is really trying to sell me the story that this is a smartly written character/series I had a great time! My go to quote about it is that it's a shitty early 2000s ooc chatfic. Objectively bad but sometimes you just LIKE that shit. it's fun in spite of and sometimes BECAUSE of its flaws. What do you mean the hound of the Baskervilles was a fucking hallucination. What do you mean you thought Victor Trevor was a dog. What do you mean Irene is a lesbian but her exception is... THAT 💀. That's hilarious. I hate you. Tell me more.

Also TGMD is the reason Disney as a company still exists. It gave them the funds to create The Little Mermaid and pushed them out of the Disney Dark Ages. We don't talk about what Disney does NOW but if it took Sherlock Holmes furry au to give us Aladdin, Beauty and the Beast, Hercules, it was worth it.

So The Great Mouse Detective is my winner! This is probably excluding a lot of great adaptations simply cuz I never watched them but TGMD will always have a special place in my heart and is usually my go to rec for when ppl want a fan adaptation. Basil is my pfp for a reason ig 🤭

#pls dont hate me for the long ass response unfortunately i have no impulse control #its my blog and i get to unnecessarily elongate my answers if i want to 🙄#sherlock holmes adaptations #tgmd supremacy #asks noa answers

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yandere-wishes · 1 year ago

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Opinion on the absolute ANCIENT history of Star Wars legends? Meaning Tulak Hord, Marka Ragnos and such

Anon I am SO SO SO SORRY this took me forever to answer. I loved the ask so much that I wanted to have the perfect mood and ambiance for when I answered it. Suffice it to say that that hasn't happened for a good while now. But I sincerely hope that you are still lurking around this blog and get a chance to see my response. I cannot express how excited this ask has made me!! I harbor an extremely unhealthy obsession with ancient Sith lords and their lore

I'm going to start off by saying that, if we were in the Star Wars universe I would have already become a Sith lord. Due SOLELY to how much Darkside lore I read~🖤❤️

I swear whenever I see a new Sith lord my brain goes: "Omg he's so ugly." Then he proceeds to live in my head rent-free for three days and on the third night, I find myself dreaming of making out with him... this has happened one too many times...It might be a little bit concerning. XD

Tulak Hord gives off major samurai vibes so I feel like he does follow some sorta Sith honor code. That being said he most likely acquires his darling as either a war trophy from some rival or conquered planet. Or she's a wide-eyed Acolyte who he can twist into his perfect darling.

He's also so pretty and I want to kiss him so badly!!

I'd love to be his little darling, a war trophy won in battle. Kept locked away within his fortress. A prize none but him are worthy to see.

After each bloody campaign, he returns to you, his starlight. A dividend that keeps him fighting, keeps him tethered to the dark side of the force. He fights to provide you with an empire, to win your praises at his many accomplishments.

Little does he know of the aversion you harbor for him.

Tulak Hord the monster who took everything from you.

No, but to be fair, I'd still be MADLY in love with him. Just imagine Lord Hord coming home from the battlefield, bloodied and still high off his bloodlust.

Imagine straddling him as you lovingly peel off his bloodied armor. Kissing his flesh every time it appears from under his armor. He'd run his clawed gauntlets over your back tracing your spine. Making you shiver from the frigid steel. Your warmth feels welcoming, innocent, he longs to corrupt it.

Then obviously kissing when you get to his helmet. Deep and passionate. Filled with hate and love. Out of fear, you've learned to play your role as a doubtful lover, a devoted wife, to a fault.

"The universe is more complicated than you could ever imagine, starlight. Be thankful that I've shielded you away from all its inconsistencies."

It's getting harder and harder to remember why you resist him so much. Why push him away when his presence is so overwhelming? Consuming you wholly.

"Thank you, my lord."

NOW...

If you were his Acolyte things would play out a bit differently. He'd have trained you for so many years. Building you up to be the ultimate weapon and simultaneously his ideal darling. You're too far gone, mistaking toxins for affection. You've learned to cherish every bruise and broken bone that comes from him.

You were such a naive little girl when he first took an interest in you. Now he's morphed you into the scourge of the battlefield. The mere mention of your name sends generals running away in fear.

He finds you after every campaign. Permits you the honor of washing his armor and tending to his wounds. Basking in the way your nimble fingers apply bacta to what little scars he may have received.

Tulak is such a tremendous master. Personally seeing to your wellbeing and recovery.

He pulls you onto his lap, kissing your open wounds as he stitches them for you. Sometimes he pulls his helmet up and plunges his tongue into the trauma lapping at the blood and broken muscles as he ravishes in your delightful moans. He'll whisper sweet praises into your ears, telling you how proud he is of all you've accomplished, what a stupendous sith lord you shall make someday, ruling by his side. All while his iron-clad fingers work bruises into your soft flesh.

You are his perfect little doll.

Tulak Hord's perfect little acolyte.

Would it be wrong to say that I kinda want to be Marka Ragnos' concubine? Or just his pretty little princess who's always at his beck and call!! Look he's literally a giant hulking red alien with golden horns... what's not to love!!

Plus I'd give anything to just sit on his lap as he holds court. Tracing patterns across his chest and relishing in the feeling of his claws scraping across your flesh, leaving his mark even when he's focused on galactic domination.

Prior to that Marka would totally dress you in the most ethereal dresses!! All lavish golds and blood reds. Somedays they'd be full-blown multilayered dresses and other days (when he wants to show a bit more dominance) he'll have you wearing danity silk dresses that show more skin than you are comfortable with.

He'd also shower you with praises throughout the day. Calling you his "sweet little princess" and "pretty girl". look getting called "pretty girl" by a sith lord is free therapy and I am HERE for it😤😍😤😍.

I also have this random headcanon that Marka Ragnose is (in some ways) a father figure to Vitita/Valkorion/Tenebrae. That being said it's only logical for Marka Ragnos' darling to be (younger) Vitita's mother figure. In a twisted forceful way, they're kinda like a happy family. Also forced Yandere family is one of my fav tropes, so I had to reference it here lol.

Okay, guys seriously this ask has made me so happy since the MOMENT I got it!! If anyone wants to send in asks for any Star Wars Sith lords (well-known ones, obscure ones, hated/loved ones) my ask box is wide open.

In conclusion, I've been collecting Sith Lords to simp over like an 8-year-old collects Pokemon cards. Sith lords are unconventionally HOT and I'd totally be down to be there sweet little darling !! Like please just let me be a Sith Lord's cute little side piece, the eye candy that hangs off his arm. His pretty little bunny girl that'll do anything to please him.

(*Concerningly looks down at the pride and self-respect I just smashed.* "Whoops...that wasn't supposed to happen")

Anon I think I answered your question with these little stories. I am very much IN LOVE with the ancient Sith lords. And it doesn't just stop at Tulak and Marka. I literally NEED a harm of Sith lords. Look they may not be conventionally handsome, but there's something about "the dark forces warping their appearance" that makes me go absolutely feral!! 🤣🤣😍😍

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cursedwithwords · 10 months ago

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Can you speak a bit more about why Vic and Teddy’s relationship broke down? We’ve heard it from Vic’s pov, but curious of Teddy’s

This is another really good question.

So Teddy and Vic are together for a really, really long time. I base it on the Rita Skeeter article where Teddy is sixteen and already snogging Victoire who's 15. So by the time of the epilogue they've been dating for about three years at least. In TBOTS Teddy left the country about three years prior, when James is 15, so he and Vic broke up after a five or six year relationship.

Where Ted's head was at, he really wanted to make a life with Vic, so he wanted to be able to provide right out of school. He joined the Ministry right out of Hogwarts and from that moment worked himself to the bone to prove himself, make an impression, build a good career, because that's what he thought his parents would want for him.

A good stable career with a lovely girl that he could properly provide for and build a good life with. Unfortunately, he was still very young when he made this decision, and where he did love Victoire, he wouldn't let her help, because he thought he needed to take care of things on his own.

He hated the work, he was constantly exhausted, and where he did enjoy working with Harry, he didn't get to that often since he was Head of Magical Law Enforcement. There were coworkers he clashed with because they had different opinions on things, some people didn't take him seriously because he was young, some people thought he was hired on his name alone rather than his grades or his abilities.

He was tired, he hated being an Auror, he felt stifled and stuck, and the thought that he'd gotten himself tied to a job that made him miserable, that he may be doing till he died, made him feel crazy. He was young and had a romantic image of what being an Auror entailed, so the reality of it hit him like a bag of brick.

He began drinking more and smoking excessively from the stress and overwork, he missed out on dinner plans and date nights he planned with Victoire, was always tired when they spent time together, but refused to talk about it and insisted he was fine. He was pushing himself to a breaking point but pretending he was fine (he has very similar self destructive tendencies as his father).

Victoire begins training as a Curse Breaker at some point after graduating, and Teddy is really freaking proud of her, but at the same time he's fucking terrified. Curse Breaking is an important career, something Victoire is passionate and good at, but it can be so dangerous.

The job will take Victoire out of the country for potentially months on end, and Teddy's job will keep him stick in the UK. He can't go with her, obviously, and while he does trust her, he knows she's extremely strong and more than capable, there's a terrible growing fear in him that she's not going to come back.

So he constantly contradicts himself, swinging between supportive and almost cruel, digging himself into a frenzied panic. I think Teddy has abandonment issues, I think he's extremely lonely and is terrified of losing people. He only feels comfortable when he can protect the people he loves, and if Vic is out of the country like that, he's not going to be able to help if something does happen; and he can't get over that, so he wants to discourage her from going, but simultaneously knows it's not his decision and wants to support her in her endeavors because that's what a good boyfriend would do.

He doesn't want her to leave because he's scared, but he doesn't want to keep her from doing something she's deeply passionate about, so they have a huge blowout. Screaming, throwing things, breaking things. In the end Teddy goes home to Yeovil, and after talking to Andy and crying for hours he makes the decision that the way he is now, he's no good for Victoire, or anyone in a relationship.

So they break up, he quits his job, and he makes steps to try and figure out what he actually wants to do with his life. But he can't seem to figure it out in England, so he leaves the country completely.

He loves Victoire. She was his first real love, his first long term relationship, but he had so many personal deep rooted issues and trauma he didn't know was there and he ended up sabotaging the relationship unintentionally.

Because the relationship ended so badly and abruptly after such a long time together, it ended up poisoning any possible future romantic reconnection or reconciliation. They have too much tainted history together, and while they do love each other, getting over the shame of how it ended, trying to do it again, Teddy doesn't want to do that to her, or himself. She wants to be a Curse Breaker, and he wouldn't have been able to let her go, so he lets her go.

Falling in love with James was not his plan. At all. He wasn't thinking of relationships at all when he came back. He was thinking of reuniting with his friends and family, taking care of his aging grandparents, finding a career he can actually enjoy. He hadn't planned on James being exactly what he needed to be able to move forward with his life and properly address his trauma. Who knew, right?

But whatever happens in the future, he'll always love Vic, they'll always be extremely close, even if they aren't dating anymore. She's still an extremely important person in his life, and vice versa.

Thank you so much for your ask! I may address some of these things in Teddy's upcoming chapter as well, so look forward to that!

#harry potter next gen #jeddy fanfic wip #harry potter #hp next gen #teddy lupin #james sirius potter #next gen headcanons #jeddy #victoire delacour weasley #tedoire #victoire weasley

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kakusu-shipping · 11 months ago

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Anon back again to harp on my multi-decades love for Luca Blight. Buckle up and hear me out. I'm talking about a character-driven irresistible force paradox.

When you have someone who endures trauma so impactful that their way of 'dealing' with it is to simply decide to burn the entire world down at any cost, what happens when he meets the opposite side of the same coin?

Luca has no remorse, no grand and righteous 'I will destroy this world and rebuild it anew because I'm special' manifesto. No - he just wants to watch the world burn because he hates it. Plus there's speculation that he had an unhealthy symbiotic relationship with the True Beast Rune that may or may not have been magnifying his rage and bloodlust, but that's a whole separate topic entirely.

So what happens when you take someone so volatile and doggedly set on his goals and put them in the path of another character who's just as bullish and focused as he is, but their entire life's purpose is the opposite?

Someone who cares about the world just because they love it. Someone who is *determined* to befriend him instead of destroy him, who spreads sunshine and rainbows. Someone who shows no fear in the face of him and is all stubborn smiles and wholesome gumption? Lovebombing instead of hatebombing because, "didn't your mother ever teach you any better?! Fine then, I'll just do it myself!" (Oof, that'd go over well.)

I'm going somewhere with this, I swear.

Luca is violent and cruel, but he has his values. He has great pride for Highland. He's shown to hold certain qualities in high regard (competence, passion, bravery - "I don't care about breeding. A sword doesn't need a fine lineage, it just needs to be sharp.") In short, much of what he holds in regard are qualities he ascribes by personally, and the things he hates run opposite (cowardice, indecisiveness, incompetence).

What happens when he comes face to face with someone who embodies the *traits* he respects but exercises them in the opposite way he does?

By the way, I'm not talking about your classic, "he's a terrible villain and I can fix him~" scenario, but instead introducing a foil who's just as stubbornly focused and intense about their wholesome love for sunshine and happiness.

I think he'd be frustrated, conflicted, and ultimately torn because it flies in the face of his worldview. At the same time he'd likely find himself harboring some sort of begrudging respect for this individual (while simultaneously conflicted and pissed off).

We talk about Luca for being the crazy 'mad prince' of Highland so what happens if he's in the crosshairs of someone just as 'crazy' as him but in a wholesome and positive way? He'd be annoyed as fuck while also probably winding up enjoying himself in a backward sort of fashion because this individual embodies many of the same qualities he esteems.

And most of all, there's the potential for inner turmoil where he'd have to process how to feel about someone who cares unconditionally in a way that strongly parallels maternal affection. He can't bring himself to kill Jillia because she *looks* like his mother. But what if someone *treated* him in a way reminiscent of a parent's unconditional love? Someone who has the same brave, reckless lack of self-preservation Luca does, bold enough to scold him the shit out of him for tracking mud across the fancy carpet yet in the same breath steamroll him over with sunshine and positivity and rainbows?

I posit that he'd be a mess over it. He'd hate it and at the same time enjoy it. And then hate it even more *because* he enjoys it.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk. I thought about this way too much.

I've read this novel of a Luca X Reader pitch so many times anon I hope you're aware I never answered it because I had nothing to add, but I loved every word of it and reading it over and over. You're so correct.

Today seems like a good day to post it was we Finally have Suikoden remake news. So here's to you, your immovable object vs unstoppable force dynamic, and to the potential new fans these remakes may bring who may themselves see the glory of Luca Blight as we do

#Suikoden 2 #Luca Blight #Luca Blight X Reader #In concept #I love you Kill 'em with Kindness anon #I hope you break him #I don't think it's possible but I believe in you #One day I will write real Luca Blight X Readers #And it will be my legacy and it will be great #Until then #I will continue to stare longingly at the anon's who come into my ask box who also adore Luca Blight

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silas-png · 1 year ago

Text

Shadow of the Blessed

Hi, guys. So I wrote this little story for fun because I wanted to start writing the stuff for my ocs. So here's a little story about a gay bird and an even gayer plant lord coupled with small angst and very bad writing. im very sorry its kinda bad lol

also this is originally an English project so that’s cool shout out to my English teacher

tags: slight angst, small gore at some points, really bad writing, kinda rushed

word count: 4534

-----

It was the first time Peter had ever seen something so terrifying. He had woken up from his sleep in the middle of the night to see himself in his room. At least, it looked like him, but everything was so much darker. It was just a silhouette, but Peter could tell something was wrong. Darkness spread from the figure like an abhorrent bacteria, sticking to everything as if it were glue, and causing so much fear in Peter that he could swear he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stick upwards. Yet, as quickly as it came, the figure vanished, leaving Peter with lingering paralysis. He simply stared at where the figure was for what felt like hours.

The next morning, Peter waited until the light was sifting through his curtains to get up. When he walked past the spot that the figure was in the previous night, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He walked out of his room with a scowl as he saw his younger brother. He disliked his brother; he was too adept at everything for Peter’s taste. It made him jealous, furious, and contemptuous. He passed the rest of his family silently as he quickly grabbed breakfast while going outside to eat. When he was outside on the house’s porch, he ate. The air was cold as a chilling knife against his skin, but it reminded him that he was safe.

Peter looked to the forest below the mountain. From what he could see it looked mostly normal. Mostly. Creeping up behind the largest tree; an old oak that had been rumored to be there for a couple hundred years-- a rumor that Peter didn’t believe-- was a growing shadow. He walked off the porch onto the cold rock, silently thanking himself that he was wearing socks, and slowly walked to the edge of the mountain. He would’ve gotten a closer look-- until a certain voice cut in.

“What’cha lookin’ at, Petey-Bird?” The voice was mocking and overconfident. Peter sighed in anger and closed his eyes before taking a deep breath. He turned his head with an even bigger scowl to see none other than Anwir, a member of a nearby village on a close mountain; as well as a personal annoyance to Peter. Anwir was known for being a cocky know-it-all who didn’t let anyone else get any glory. Peter hated him with a passion. Anwir was followed by the village elder of his village and Peter's village. Anwir’s village elder only stared off, but the elder that Peter was familiar with spoke gruffly.

“Darkness approaches,” He said, gently combing through his beard with one hand; the other was holding a cane in front of himself. The other elder nodded curtly, putting her hands behind her back. Peter glanced back at the forest, losing himself to thought. Surely they can’t be serious, right? He thought, a thousand other thoughts running through his mind simultaneously. Anwir chimed in with the same irritating hum; “I can go to check it out!” Peter shot him a glare, now pulled out of his thoughts from the words.

“That won’t be necessary, Anwir,” The female elder murmured, her voice brisk. “We’ll wait to check it out,” She added, looking at the other elder. He nodded.

“Come with me, Anwir. There is much to talk about,” The female elder murmured, already starting to walk off. Anwir followed, smiling. The remaining elder turned to Peter, who had a very discontent expression and had put a hand on his hip, clearly distrusting of the second elder.

“You go check it out,” The male elder murmured, trying to keep his voice relatively quiet. His squinting eyes were now looking at the looming shadow. Peter’s discontent expression tightened.

“Really?” He asked, his voice holding a surprised and sarcastic edge to it. He moved his hand from his hip to hover aimlessly. “You’re serious?” He asked.

“I never trusted Glaudusa,” The elder replied.

“Neither did I.” Peter glanced backward at Glaudusa and Anwir walking to their homeland. The second mountain was around the corner of the growing shelf of clouds. A storm would hit soon. “You know I can’t go, right?” Peter asked.

“You have to. You’re the only one who knows, and the only one I trust, at that,” The elder said, haste filling his voice. Peter’s lips pursed. I’m not the one to do that. He thought. I don’t like this at all.

“I can’t do that,” Peter said. If I refuse he won’t make me go, right? Peter thought. However, his refusal and denial were cut short by the elders’ reply.

“Unfortunately, Peter, it has to be you,” He says as he steps towards the cliff. His cane makes a clicking sound as it hits the rock below. Peter’s lip curls upwards in discontent as he stares off at the forest. He sighs, then murmurs, “Fine,”

“You cannot tell anyone,” The elder said. Peter nods and says, “Yeah, yeah, I know,”

The elder pauses, then holds out a small shortsword. “It’s dangerous to trek this journey alone. Take this,”

Peter waits until the afternoon to set out. No one sent him off. He chose to go out without a word. He told his mother he was being sent to collect supplies for the village elder and then left. He got down the mountain quickly by gliding with the wind as his guide. He reached the forest within a few minutes of walking once he got down. He lifted a tree branch over his head after he made it to the dense forest. “This is going to be a long day,” He muttered, stepping over a tree root.

After a couple of hours of trekking through the forest, Peter finally came to the center point. The giant oak was at least ten feet in diameter and twenty feet tall. Peter felt tiny compared to the behemoth of a tree. Heaven almighty… He thought, his jaw dropping a couple of centimeters.

“Your people don’t usually appear this far into my forest,” A voice called out. It was very calm and soothed Peter’s small bud of anxiety. Peter turned around. Behind him stood a very, very tall man. The second thing Peter noticed was his eyes; an alluring shade of pale green. Peter was almost star-struck. He didn’t expect someone to live out here. It was a no-mans land.

“Well, we thought it was, like, deserted,” Peter said, unusually stumbling over words. He coughed and hit himself in the heart to calm himself. The taller man chuckled lightly. It sounded almost melodic.

“Well, it is not,” He said. His eyes lit up. “I almost forgot--” He held his hand out. “-- I’m Pax,” The man said, waiting for Peter to introduce himself.

“I’m, uh, Peter,” He said, trying to keep his voice from cracking. He took Pax’s hand and shook it. Pax’s skin was warm and comforting. Peter had to force himself to let go.

“Okay, this is nice and all, but I seriously need to get back to what I was doing--”

“Ah, right. Looking for the answer to the darkness spreading through the forest, yes?” Pax cut in.

“How-- How did you know that?” Peter responded, doing a double take. Is this guy psychic? He thought.

“I figured your people would send someone down sometime soon. I can feel the darkness spreading,” Pax replied, shrugging. “You should stay at my place for the night.” Pax gestured to the sky, which was growing darker by the minute. “It gets dangerous here at night now. You don’t know what lurks in the shadows,”

Peter felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up at the last comment. He felt the same feeling of fear and anxiety from when the figure of himself appeared before him. He shivered, feeling a breath of sharp, cold air on his back. His wings shook slightly, attempting to shake off the cold. Pax noticed, and asked, “You have seen it as well?”

“What?” Peter asked, trying to control his voice. He didn’t know that other people saw them as well. “That shadow thing?” He asked. Pax nodded.

Then Pax started walking towards the tree. Peter suddenly didn’t want to be alone and followed him, jogging to catch up with Pax’s strides.

“They’ve been following me around for the past couple of days,” Pax explained as he walked. He walked to the large oak and then opened a hidden door. Inside was a small shaft with a ladder in it. Pax climbed the ladder, Peter following suit. When the two reached the top, it was a spacious area that looked like a small cabin. The ‘windows’ were the holes in the branches of the tree, shaped in small circles. It was a lush area, with multiple ‘potted plants’ formed from the wood and branches with leaves. There was a bed, a small bookshelf, and a small counter-- probably a makeshift kitchen.

“And we’ll be safe… in this tree?” Peter asked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow. Pax chuckles in response and nods.

“The door is hidden well. They don’t know that someone lives up here. Think about it; did you know I lived here?” He asks. Peter thinks.

“No,” He says.

* * *

The next morning, Peter woke up tired. Pax was already awake and sat on the floor attempting to map something out. When he noticed Peter being awake, he motioned Peter to join him. “I’m trying to map out where to find the darkness,” He said.

Peter blinked very slowly before saying, “What time is it?”

“It’s ten a.m.,” Pax replied.

Peter only groaned in response. He got out of his makeshift bed-- a blanket and pillow-- and stretched. His wings outstretched completely and he knocked over a book.

“Sorry,” He murmured, walking over to pick it up. Then he walked over to Pax and stood behind where he was sitting. A map of the woods was on the ground, with a shaded area labeled as the shadow. It had taken up a third of the forest and seemed to only be expanding, as Pax drew where it had seeped to. He suddenly rolled it up and said, “We should get going.” He stood up.

Peter backed up a step and a half. He stared at Pax to see what he was doing. Pax opened a cabinet and took out leather armor. He put it on quickly and then looked at Peter. “You have some, right?” He asked.

“It’s in my bag,” Peter said, gesturing to the pouch on the floor next to his makeshift bed. He walked over, grabbed the bag, opened it, and took out some thin leather armor. He put his own on carefully, then looked at Pax, who was already walking to the trapdoor and opening it. He gestured for Peter to go first. Peter obliged and climbed downwards. He opened the door at the bottom to see Anwir standing outside. Peter cursed to himself quietly and looked up to see Pax coming down the ladder. He whispered, “Hey, there’s another guy here,”

Pax looked down and replied, “We should greet him--” “--No. Not. He is a liar, an eyesore, and an overconfident ogre,” Peter cut in, whisper-yelling furiously.

Unfortunately for Peter, Anwir heard the string of insults and walked over to the open door. “Petey-bird, you didn’t tell me that you would be here!” He chimed an excited hum in his voice. Peter grimaces and grabs the bridge of his nose; contrastingly, Pax emerges from the door and holds out his hand. “Hello,” He greeted. Anwir responded in kind; shaking Pax’s hand.

“You must be the forest spirit!” He said excitedly. “I’ve heard so much about you-- all good things, don’t worry,” He added.

“Really?” Pax asked. Peter nudged Pax and muttered, “We’ve gotta get going,”

“Oh-- yes, we do. Are you heading to the darkness as well? We could go as a group-- the more the merrier!” Pax spoke softly, kindly. Anwir nodded.

“Yes, I am!” Anwir responded. Peter facepalmed.

* * *

The three set off soon enough, and within a couple of hours, they reached the base of the darkness. It was attached to everything like a sticky mold, growing by a few centimeters every few minutes. It was black-- as one would expect-- but had a blue hue. Whatever the substance was, it was gross. Anwir touched a leaf that was engulfed in it, and it exploded like a pimple; a pus-like substance splattered all over him.

Peter’s upper lip curled upwards in pure disgust as he stepped backward. His wings folded inward. Pax tried not to look disgusted but failed; he looked like he just saw a pile of feces on the ground.

They trekked through the sticky swamp for several minutes before Anwir started to complain. “This stuff is… odd,” He said, trying not to be rude. Peter nodded, and Pax silently agreed. A low hum started to grow in the background. It sounded like a low growl. The hairs on the back of Peter's neck stood up. Anxiety crept into his bones as he suddenly felt very, very cold. He looked backward. Standing there was the shadow he saw. He started to back away. It caused Pax and Anwir to turn around. Pax instinctively yelled, “Run!”

The group started to sprint away, Peter the fastest. He would rather be flying, but there wasn’t enough space in the dampened forest. He ran as fast as he could, adrenaline and instincts completely taking over his body. When he reached a clearing in the forest, he calmed down. It was sundown by now, and Pax emerged from the forest a moment later. Anwir… didn’t. Peter couldn’t care less and instead focused on Pax.

“That was… scary,” Pax murmured, looking shaken. Peter walked closer to him, subconsciously begging for the soothing aura Pax had before. But it was gone.

Suddenly, the clearing started to get more sparse. The edge of the clearing started to become more dense, and soon enough both Pax and Peter were locked in. The pus-like darkness crept through the small cracks and crevices, circling the two. Then it started to move faster and faster until it manifested itself into an amalgamation of both Peter and Pax. Peter’s face was massed below Pax’s and was contorted into an expression of horror; his mouth wide open and almost falling off of its’ hinges. A spider crept out of the mouth, also made of the substance.

Peter backed away in terror, his back suddenly hitting the wall. His breathing started to get quicker as the image ingrained itself into his brain. Pax gulped audibly but drew out a small dagger and clutched it tightly, determined to try and destroy whatever the amalgamation was. The creature's flesh pulsated as if it were alive, pumping something through its visible veins to keep it alive. It took a step closer, goop seeping into the ground with every step. It was disgusting to see, and Pax’s hand trembled. Peter looked around for something, anything to save the two of them. His hand traced the wall until he came across an engraving on the wall. He turned around to look at it. It looked like some sort of puzzle. Peter tried to look at the entire thing to solve it, but he couldn’t make out what exactly it was.

It looked like an incomplete image of something; almost like a jigsaw puzzle, but it was made out of different shapes. Triangles, circles, octogons, polygons, and rectangles confused him. He looked behind himself. The creature was focused on Pax, and Peter didn’t dare make a sound. He did not want to know what that thing would do to him if it saw him.

Peter started moving pieces around to try and complete the image. After a few minutes, it started to look like a mosaic. A few seconds later, the walls started to disperse. The creature slowly sunk into the ground, merging with the existing darkness like melting snow.

A moment later, Anwir emerged from the forest, smiling giddily.

“What happened here?” He asked, his voice somehow more annoying than before.

“We got trapped--”

“--Yeah, I’m not sure what happened,” Peter interrupted. He started walking across the clearing to the other side of the forest, a glare in his eyes.

“That… was a strange encounter,” Pax murmured, his voice low. He stared at Peter in concern. Peter just kept walking, his strides much faster and longer than before. Before long, the group was back in the darkness-engulfed woods.

After a few minutes of walking, the group found a fork in the path they were on. Anwir started to go to the far right, but Pax and Peter stopped. Peter just glared, but Pax spoke.

“Hey, we should stay as a group,” He called, staring at Anwir. Anwir turned around momentarily before calling, “But the heart of the darkness is this way!”

Peter and Pax exchanged glances. They both looked skeptical of Anwir.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Peter muttered. “Let’s all split up. The paths have to reconnect somewhere,” He suggested. Pax nodded. Anwir turned around and kept walking away.

“Splitting up it is,” Pax muttered, walking to the middle path, leaving Peter to the far left.

Peter walked down the path. He didn’t trust the choice to split up, but he needed time to collect his thoughts. It seemed like a logical and perfectly acceptable choice at the time. At first, it was pretty normal for what the past several hours had been. Then it started to get chilly. He shivered, but it only got colder. Before long, his teeth were chattering, his entire body trembling, and fear starting to creep into his bones. He looked around, trying to see if anyone was nearby to help. But no one was there. He was alone.

He started to feel the same as he did when the figure appeared before him. Anxiety crept up his spine, making the hairs on his back stand up. His breathing started to become irregular, and he looked behind himself. Standing there was the figure.

Suddenly, it was directly in front of him. Staring at him. It had a suffocating aura; as if he was surrounded by thousands upon thousands of people. It terrified him. A deep, gravelly voice came from the figure, but its mouth never moved. It only hung open.

“You… Fear comes from you. Delicious fear,” It said, leaning in closer to Peter. Its jaw hung open, loose on its hinges. It looked like it was about to fall off. Peter’s expression contorts into pure terror, and he stumbles backward. His breathing escalates gradually. He tries his best to push the fear down into his stomach but fails. It makes its way to his throat, which is worse than before.

Peter just stares back at the thing, trying his best to keep his fear down and stop himself from screaming. The creature grabs Peter's shoulders and pulls him in closer.

“Your fear will make for a dessert worthy of the gods’,” It rumbles, its voice filled with malice. Peter’s eyes widen, and he reaches for the shortsword on his belt. His hand trembles as he tries to get to it without drawing attention to himself. The creature doesn’t notice it; for now.

Peter reaches for the sword and grabs it, pulling it out with all of his might and then slashing through the creature while trying to remove its hands from his shoulders. The creature's top half falls to the ground with a quiet thud.

Peter stares at it while heaving. He silently calms himself down then says, “What are you made of?” He’s seemingly talking to no one, but the creature responds.

“Your negative emotions, dear friend. I am the manifestation of your negative emotions,” It reverberates, the sound of a low, earth-shaking thrum. It makes Peters's heart shudder. Yet, as quickly as the creature was alive, its life faded. The jaw fell off of the head, and the body started to melt into the ground like viscous oil. Peter gawked at it for a moment before remembering his objective; get to the heart of the shadow and kill it.

Peter continued down the path, the scene replaying a thousand times over in his head. He kept thinking about that one comment. ‘I am the manifestation of your negative emotions,’. It made Peter almost sick to the stomach. Did he have that many? He never thought about it much; jealousy, sadness, anger, and a million others. He never lingered on them for too long, just pushing them down. He realized that he had to stop doing that. He sighed, the idea of letting out his emotions making him want to vomit.

Peter looked at a plant in disgust as he let the idea roll around in his head. As much as he hated to admit it, he didn’t want to let his emotions out. But the idea was one that he needed to implement. He was a very emotionally unavailable person, and people often didn’t talk to him because of that fact. He had to do better. For himself; and everyone around him.

As he walked, he took a deep breath. He walked silently for a few minutes before stopping. His hand touched his face. Tears rolled down his cheeks. Peter stood there in pure shock for a moment before just letting it happen. He continued walking while letting the tears fall freely. Before long he made it to the heart of the darkness. Pax was already there, talking with someone.

The someone in question was an angel. He didn’t have wings on his back but had a small pair on his face that covered his eyes. His halo was a mix of different stars all in a ring on the back of his head; they illuminated his face softly. His hair was white and wavy, reaching his back. Behind the man was a large, pulsating heart. It had strings of viscous pus-like substance attached to it and flowing into the ground. They looked like veins and arteries. The heart fed the substance into the veins.

“You must understand; I do not mean to infringe upon your land, dear spirit,” The angel said, his voice soothing and calm. Pax looked like he was holding himself back.

“But you are. You are killing the life of this forest and you are hurting the land that we stand on,” Pax said, his voice urgent and attempting to be persuasive. The angel was having nothing of it.

“I need the life force of your forest to survive, Guardian. You do not understand.” The angel took a step closer. He was somehow taller than Pax. He looked down in disgust.

“You Guardians are all so cocky,” The angel spits, venom in his tone. The angel notices Peter and scowls, growling, “And who are you?”

He pauses. Then, he says; “You’re the other one. I’ve seen you before.” He thinks for a moment.“We could do great things together, you know,” He says.

Peter steps back. He rejects the hand and looks at the angel skeptically. “Woah, there. Before I go making life-altering blood pacts, how about you introduce yourself?” He says.

“Ah, of course. I am Antiphilli; God’s Shadow,” He said, smiling a little bit. Pax’s eyes widened.

“You’re the one I was warned about,” He blurted, staring at Antiphilli in shock. “You’ve been cast out; that’s why you feed off of the darkness,” He explains.

Antiphilli’s disgust shifts into contempt. “Well, when you have nothing else to live off of, honey, you get creative,” He says, mockingly using the pet name. He walks closer to Pax. “I was cast out because I saw through the lies of the system, and those above me didn’t like that,” He explains.

Pax leans forward, discontent slipping into his gaze. “True, but you were cast out for a reason. You were a danger to the people; so you were arrested. Then you broke out,” He says.

Peter watches the whole conversation play out, insult after insult strung in both directions. It almost looked scripted; as if someone wrote it with care and love.

Anwir suddenly emerged from the brush. “I’ve found you guys!” He yells, smiling happily. He rushes over to Pax, then… to Antiphilli. He stands beside the angel with pride, and the two have a hushed conversation as Antiphilli backs away from Pax. Pax looks at Peter, tilting his head briefly to motion to leave. Caught up in the conversation, the Antiphilli and Anwir don’t notice Pax and Peter backing out. But before they’ve completely gone, Peter takes his shortsword and throws it like a javelin at the giant heart. It hits it directly in the center, and then he bolts. He and Pax run for what seems like miles, their feet trudging through the muck hastily.

Antiphilli notices their absence and screams. It’s a blood-curdling, earth-shattering sound, and hurts Peter and Pax’s ears. It echoes through the forest. Peter covers his ears, falling to the ground, and Pax’s face contorts in pain with the sound. It screeches in the two’s ears, and when it’s over their ears continue to ring. Peter felt like he had just died and come back; his head throbbed, pain seeping through his skull.

* * *

Peter and Pax returned to the oak tree a day later. Peter was completely drained of energy, barely able to make it up the ladder. When he does make it up, he collapses onto the floor; Pax catches him with gentle arms. “I didn’t realize that you would be this tired,” He murmured, his voice slightly raspy and words slurred. He carried Peter to his bed, setting him down gently before lying down himself to sleep. It takes him some time, but he falls asleep.

The next morning, Peter sets off to return the news of the darkness to his village elder. The elder takes the news well and Peter can finally actually rest. He returns to his home, retreating to his room after grabbing a snack. He stays in his room all day long, completely isolated. He shivers a couple of times because of thought about the figure from days ago. Eventually, he falls asleep at around nine P.M.

His sleep is interrupted by a loud explosion nearby. He jolts awake and looks out of his window, panic rising in his body. His eyes are wide as he stares at a gigantic plume of smoke coming from the nearby village below the mountain. A blinding light follows the explosion, causing Peter to look away. He rushes outside after regaining his vision to find the whole village in a panic. More concerned with the forest, Pax, and the other village, he rushes to the edge of the mountain closest to the cliff above the nearby village. What he sees is agonizing; the village is in flames, multiple houses are burnt and several currently burning. The people are running around in a panic but most are trying to find loved ones. Peter watches in horror, his jaw dropping a couple of centimeters.

----

so thats it; uhh i might write more but idk we'll see. this is kind of a prologue to my main story and i might post that here but idk

peter and pax have a long way to go and antiphilli needs more character development lol

please let me know if you guys want silly stories or head cannons about them because I’d be really happy to do that. There’s so many more of my characters that I want to share to you guys via writing and I’m so eager to :D

#writing #original character #original characters #original story #my story #silas.png story #it has no official name yet #but we’re having fun with it #hope you enjoy #and enjoyed

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cygninae · 1 year ago

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Hi! What are five characters that remind you of yourself or that you relate to? Feel free to elaborate!

Hello! Thank you for the ask. I have thought about this often and conveniently already have five in mind.

Firstly, I would say Lemony Snicket; I relate to the manner in which he does not fight his own deterioration, seen in how he makes little effort to help things go his way, and proceeds to wallow in the depression which he's sequestered himself too. His approach to romance is similar to my own, also. He is very obsessed with Beatrice, as we know, but the fact he cannot move on even after her marriage, death, etc. shows his obsession more with an ideal of life that Beatrice would have fit into perfectly, rather than her as a person. And without it, what is he? This subsequently leads to his fall into deep depression and generally ill health, even his obsession with the Baudelaire children, which almost gets him killed on many occasions. His peculiar frame of consciousness is fascinatingly disjointed and disconnected and when I have been not at my best, I see myself in him in many ways. He is also quite satirical like me .

Secondly, I would say Jo March from Little Women, although please excuse me if I misquote her or misunderstand her character, since it's been years since I read the book or watched the film adaptations. Her avoidant attachment to Teddy as well as her own family, at times, is relatable to me and emphasises her own independence (to the point of her own destruction) and detached way of living. Her passion for social change, and things that which are far larger than her, while she simultaneously cannot get out of her own head to do anything about these passions she has; these are all relatable to me, although her most relatable aspect of character for me is her relationship with Teddy and how she views romance.

Thirdly, I'd say Anne Shirley, from Anne of Green Gables/Anne with an E. First of all, I absolutely believe that girl has undiagnosed ADHD. But anyway, just the way she has so, so many emotions and can't help but spill them out, I relate to that a lot. Anne can't disconnect her real world with books and as such romanticises everything so extremely that she just makes herself and those around her unhappy. But she is an extremely compassionate and clever person nonetheless.

Another character who I relate to is Quigley Quagmire. I will say he is my absolute favourite ASOUE character, so partially I only say I relate to him because of that fact (I think I have a tendency to see myself in him even when we are not so similar) but ultimately his naivety and loyalty is familiar. He is someone who lashes out, but rather than pure anger it is a culmination of exhaustion and fear. He hates to be alone, but can feel lonely even when he is not actually alone.

Lastly, I'll say Neil Perry from Dead Poets Society. Forgive me for not expanding on this one, but as I'm finishing writing this, I am so tired, so I'll leave it here. Thank you very much for your ask, I really like Questions like this. If you wish to discuss any characters on this list or things I inferred about them, feel free to do so in my inbox or DM. Always up for a discussion.

#asks #characters #lemony snicket #quigley quagmire #asoue #jo march #little women #anne shirley #anne with an e #dead poets society #neil perry

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belit0 · 2 years ago

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2000 Word Commission (MadaIzu/ HashiIzu/ TobiIzu) for anon

"Honestly I just want part 2 to be pregnancy sex, I want each of the 3 possible baby daddy’s to have a turn with Izuna while he’s still pregnant."

Part 2 of this!

Ko-fi commissions open!!

"It's really true what they say about pregnant people glowing, you're stunning." Hashirama proclaims with a radiant smile on his face, elbow resting on the table and his hand holding his chin. He stares at him with devotion, as if he would like to throw himself on the floor and kiss his feet, a sensation that makes him tremble with anger and pleasure at the same time. No one looks at him with the same fondness as the Senju, tender, pleasant, genuinely loving eyes.

He could try to compare him to his older brother though it would be pointless, different loves coming from two opposite dominants, both perfect and contrary in every way. Madara's gaze always has a hint of something passionate behind it, a love so pure and deep, real, that it escapes any kind of understanding.

Hashirama is simply .... Hashirama. Faithful dog eyes utterly dedicated to his owner, happy to see him, a level of appreciation within those brown orbs that cannot be explained. He doesn't know where his adoration comes from or what he did to earn it, but his mind clouds over when he hears him talk that way.

Izuna hates and loves it in equal parts.

"Please shut up..." he whispers while covering his eyes with one hand, the heat in his cheeks apparent and impossible to hide. It seems that pregnancy makes him more susceptible to everything, including the flattery he fears so much from the Hokage.

"I can't help it, I love your belly." Those gleaming white teeth never made him so uncomfortable, simultaneously sending a familiar warmth between his legs. What the Uchiha feels every time he finds himself in the spotlight of this Alpha's attention is hard to describe, his ego trying to fight the pleasure he gets whenever he gives him a compliment but his natural instincts bathing in his wonderful words.

He strokes his prominent belly with his other hand thoughtlessly when he hears him speak of it.

Hormones seem to be totally revved up since the three Alphas followed his plan to perfection, filling him with biological possibilities and giving rise to an uncertain future within his being, a life (or several) growing strong with each passing day.

No one warned him how annoying it would be to have the symptoms of a heat but consciously and prolonged for the months it takes to give birth.

The Uchiha now lives horny but without losing his mind about it, pussy always ready to be taken and a constant tingle of pleasure between his legs. It's infuriating and wonderful at the same time.

"Hormones are getting to me, so take off your clothes before I take them off of you." He babbles between the dizziness of arousal and the discomfort of having his entire crotch wet, ready to be fucked just by being near one of the potential fathers.

His body accepted Hashirama since he decided to welcome him as a candidate for his belly, consciously allowing him to fill him and compete for the golden place he carries with him, granting the chance to unite clans and genetics, future perfect generations.

The Hokage follows his instructions smoothly, reacting to the wonderful scent Izuna gives off in the air and ready, extending his hand for him to stand and approach, assisting with removing his clothes.

He guides him to sit on him, prepared area and plain entry, giving him immediate relief at being stuffed by a prominent, good quality Alpha. "I love the effect I have on you" Hashirama whispers as he hears him moan, holding him by the buttocks and helping him up and down.

"Shut up..." Is all he can say, overwhelmed by the pleasure his natural instincts bring about as he is being pleasured, his huge belly in the way making it difficult for him to move on his own. The Senju is huge, a size to recognize and enjoy, but it's always hard to get used to his length.

"Look me in the eyes, pretty one, please." It's a demand disguised as a pleading question, and in a state of feisty submission, Izuna is incapable of denying him anything. Whatever the Alpha asks for is something he will be forced to deliver, complying with his request between moans.

When their gazes connect, the Hokage's hands and hips lose their rhythm, stunned at the sensation of being in the limelight of those black orbs. The power the Uchiha carries in his gaze beyond his Dōjutsu is mesmerizing, a pool of night color to dive into and get lost in, unmeasured beauty focused completely on him.

Izuna is the most beautiful omega to ever set foot on this earth, and Hashirama has him on top of himself, probably carrying his future heir, surrendered and at his complete disposal. It's an invigorating feeling, something that strokes his ego and makes his Alpha purr with satisfaction.

"Senju move-!" two silky soft lips devour his mouth, stealing all his words and breath in the process, a quiet, love-filled kiss that makes him uncomfortable and happy. The Hokage has that terrible power to manage to deal with him, to take away all his sarcastic and passive-aggressive responses, to strip him to his core and expose a need to be seen and flattered he always wished to deny.

Izuna finds himself dying to receive cute remarks from him.

Those huge hands lift him up and down again with a slow, leisurely, amorous pace, taking the time to feel each thrust. His lips don't let go or give respite, and the Uchiha discovers how passionate it is to feel the sweetness of his mouth as he slowly moves him.

In general, he would prefer a much more violent and fast paced, furious sex with no thought for the other or the pain remaining between his legs afterwards, but what Hashirama proposes is as delightful as that.

Eventually, he allows him to breathe, parting mouths but not letting him move his gaze from his, spellbound by the magic those black Uchiha eyes exude, entranced by the beauty of the person above him. "How dare you be so beautiful, hm? You're addictive, Izuna."

He has no strength or concentration to silence him, only able to moan, squeezing his shoulders with both hands and feeling so close to finishing. He never manages to understand how the Senju can fuck him calmly and languidly, and still have the same effect as the opposite. "Such a good pussy... do you want another baby in there?"

"Yes..."

"Good job, beautiful." And with those words Hashirama takes a more vigorous step, stimulating his cunt in a wonderful way and focusing on filling him with his seed again. This time there is no knot or natural need to secure it inside, his body already satisfied with the huge belly he carries, yet adoring to feel it anyway.

The Senju puts all his momentum into targeting the pleasure the Uchiha's pussy milking him provides, still lost in his eyes and enjoying his every expression, feeling powerful with every moan he manages to steal from him.

He hugs him around the waist and rests his head on his shoulder as he feels his peak come, holding him in his arms and making sure he doesn't move.

It is the gestures of tenderness and love, affection, the Senju always has that succeed in making him feel funny, and that which he craves so much when his Omega seeks validation, pleasure.

He paints his inner walls white effortlessly, always ready to give whatever Izuna asks for, totally pleased by the sounds he makes. His hormones relax as he gets what his instincts demanded, and that cloud of need disappears from his mind, allowing pure clarity again.

He pushes himself off of Hashirama faster than the Senju would have liked, leaving him grasping the air and not waiting a second longer than necessary. He picks up his clothes from the floor, pants and underwear in hand while his long robe protects his privacy, and prepares to run away.

The Hokage always manages to make him feel exposed to a level he cannot tolerate without being horny, fleeing every time consciousness returns and he realizes he must face him naked. At this point, he is used to watching him leave quickly after finishing, but the expression of sadness Hashirama always shows creates a huge emptiness in his chest.

He whispers a not quite heartfelt "sorry..." before disappearing out the door and heading for the bathroom, attempting to clean and make himself presentable again. There's always a strange lump-like guilt stuck in his throat when it comes to vanishing from Hashirama's hands, a sentiment he can't erase from his head no matter how hard he tries.

If he becomes the winner of his little secret challenge, he will have to find a way to deal with it.

Distracted in his thoughts and rushing to get back to the privacy of his own home, he is surprised when a hand grabs him hard by the arm and pulls him into another room, door slamming shut behind him.

"What are you doing here?" a frowning Tobirama angrily asks, arms folded and waiting for a satisfactory answer. He observes the clothes in his hand suggestively, implying knowledge of the reasons for his visit but waiting to hear it from him.

"I stopped by to fuck your brother because I was horny, but now I have to go, so if you'll excuse me." He turns to leave out the same door the albino forced him through seconds before, but as he is about to slide it open, a large hand closes over his and stops him.

"What's the matter, Tobi? Angry because the Hokage put a baby in me and you didn't?" He doesn't know who was the winner of his belly, who managed to successfully impregnate him and whose child is inside him, but there is never a shortage of opportunities to make the Senju's blood boil, a sense of old-fashioned comfort in making him angry, momentarily returning to those times when everything was simpler.

"Your womb is too big for only one baby to be in there. You appear to be full-term but you're only about six months." That distinction makes him tense, and his eternal rival seems to notice, "What's the matter, Zuna? Weren't you weighing the possibility of having more than one puppy in there? They're probably all mine." He can feel the mischievous smirk the albino wears on his face as he speaks while putting a hand on his belly, and pressing him against the door.

"Fuck you, Senju, we won't know until delivery." He peels himself off when feeling his rival trying to use his sensory abilities to read his belly, stepping away and walking further into the room. His butt slams against a desk, unable to move his eyes from the man to make sure he doesn't play any tricks on him. "No one will know what's going on in here until then."

He rests both hands on his tummy, protective instinct guarding that future life (or lives) from the possible threat in front of him. Could he and his enemy get along, if this one ended up being the father of his baby?

"Why don't you use your Sharingan to find out?" He asks approaching him, a predator locking up his prey ready to devour it. Nothing in Tobirama's posture invites relaxation, and his hostile words only confirm having to be alert in front of him.

"I want it to be a surprise."

"Surprise? What are you, three years old?"

"Fuck you."

"No, fuck you."

The tension only increases between the two, and the Senju grabs the clothes in his hands only to throw them forcefully to the floor, standing face to face with only inches of distance in between. "I'm not letting you find out, you idiot, spare me the attempts of using your stupid techniques."

He fixes his eyes firmly on him, demonstrating he will neither back down nor allow his intimidations to succeed, resolute in the face of his convictions and unwavering. Tobirama does not let himself be defeated either, an intense staring match where none of them can win.

It is at that moment when the Senju accidentally lets his guard down, stunned by Izuna's orbs. He is still not used to being able of looking an Uchiha in the eyes and telling the story, living, always fervently avoiding that spot after years of fighting against them. This is the very reason why he never manages to avoid the natural spell his enemy has in his gaze, no ocular ability activated.

Tobirama feels absorbed by the color of those eyes and their depth, unintentionally captivated by the wonders hidden in them throughout the years of war. He would never have thought of appreciating his gaze face to face if it weren't for the work his brother and Madara did together, unprepared for what he would find there when it happened.

Izuna's eyes are as alluring and imperious as his scent, a fatal combination for any unsuspecting Alpha. He doesn't know if it's on purpose or an innate talent he has, but his eyes are as captivating as a Genjutsu itself, always catching him off guard and making him forget the situation, the context, everything.

The Senju finds himself salivating to taste his lips, to possess him, not to lose sight of those beautiful eyes and the beauty of the person in front of him-.

"I hate you, Uchiha." is the only thing he answers before turning him around and lifting the little protection that Izuna's robe provided, forcing him to lean with his hands on the desk and tilting his chest forward. Even in his anger and fury, he is careful to place a protective hand on his rival's belly, preventing it from colliding with the wood.

The Uchiha succeeds in angering, annoying, infuriating him without even words, unsettled by the feelings produced by his natural stare, and unable to process any other feeling than negative ones towards him.

He hates him with his soul, or so he forces himself to believe.

A simple tug with his other hand on the waistband of his pants reveals an erect member, arousal he never has trouble stirring up when it comes to fight him. The work his brother did previously left the way paved to thrust hard into him, regardless of whether the Uchiha wants it or not.

"Those babies are mine, you hear me? You're fucking mine, Izuna." He whispers into his neck as he is fully buried in him, dark satisfaction at watching his enemy fight against what is happening. He struggles between a mixture of pleasure and anger, moaning with rage at how good it feels to have him inside him.

"There's nothing you can do about it, you're stuck with me forever." A hand forces him to turn his face and kiss him, holding him by the jaw and manipulating his body as he wishes. Izuna momentarily struggles against his mouth, eventually surrendering under him and accepting his commanding tongue inside.

The albino's pace always leans towards violence and little control, only taking more caution because of Izuna's prominent tummy in his hand. "Look at you, all round with my children, you belong to me from the inside out."

When he senses the Uchiha wants to talk back or wrestle, his tongue slips back into his mouth, intertwining with the other's and fucking him harder when he hears him genuinely moan. Izuna always tries to conceal his arousal from him, to make him believe he has no effect on his body, and that only lasts until he manages to destroy his restraints and break through all his barriers, pushing him to the limit.

"My horny cunt, mine." And when Izuna nods without even thinking about what he says, he knows he manages to reach deep inside him, touching his mind even more than anyone else. He has an overwhelming need to possess him, to make sure he is his and his alone, to keep him from being with anyone else, and a part of Tobirama begs to be the father of that baby just so he can mark him for good with his teeth.

Izuna would look amazing with his fangs tattooed on his neck, ensuring eternal dominance over him.

Lost in that image and fantasy, he chomps down hard on him in the same place he would if he could claim him as his own forever, hoping that mark would never fade. Izuna moans with abandon, and the way his pussy squeezes his cock makes him come right then and there, letting it all inside.

It takes him a second to catch his breath, but there is no affection once he finishes. The nicest thing he does for Izuna is hand him the clothes he threw on the floor before fucking him.

A second later, the door opens and closes, leaving him alone in the room and relieved that his enemy has given up trying to find out what's inside.

Izuna makes quick work of his garments and ignores the need to stop by the bathroom before leaving, wanting even more urgently to return home and lock himself in the safety of his house. His arousal has taken him down a rocky road today, and he just wants to feel the comfort of his nest, sink into the warmth of a hot bath and sleep.

That's what he's thinking about as he makes a quick walk home, as fast as he can with the huge belly he's carrying, feeling the contents of both Senju brothers slide down the inside of his pants, down his legs.

It is an immediately uncomfortable, wet, unpleasant sensation, and he hurries even faster to get there. He avoids busy streets as he walks to the compound, unable to carry on a threaded conversation with anyone in this state, embarrassed by the mark Tobirama left on him.

He will certainly have to think of a way to keep his Aniki from seeing it.

Though he'd love to be strong enough to simply jump through the trees and gain speed, there's no way to do that with a baby inside, at least not without using what little strength he has left. He ends up choosing the longest path of all just to avoid familiar faces, taking much more time on the journey.

When he arrives home, he makes a beeline for the bathroom, immediately filling the bathtub with hot water.

He assumes Madara must be in some meeting with the council solely because of the hour, and feels confident he has time to decide how to cover up that bite on his neck. "Of course you couldn't fuck me without scarring me, of course not, mister "everything I touch is mine". Idiot."

As he pulls off his pants, he appreciates the mess that's soaked into the fabric, a river of white fluids running down to his ankle and somehow grossing him out as he forgets how turned on he was. It will be difficult to clean them up, but he will have to do it personally if he wants to keep today's adventure a secret.

When the tub is finally full, he throws away his clothing problems and steps into the water, quickly gaining instant relief. Wetting his hair with a wooden container, he simply lets the temperature of the water put his mind at ease.

He feels peace as he caresses his belly, genuine joy when he senses movements inside, and thinks about what Tobirama said about having more than one baby. Of course it would be possible, even more so considering his own fertility and the ability all the Alphas he fucked in his last heat have, but it wouldn't cease to surprise him.

He re-evaluates using his Sharingan to see, but quickly dismisses the idea. He decided it would be a surprise, and intends to maintain that illusion until the end.

Gently washes his body, a moment of self-love, but when he reaches his crotch he can't help but feel warm again. Pregnancy hormones are exhausting and impossible to ignore, and when they demand he satisfy his natural needs, there's not much else left to do.

His fingers slide gently up and down his vagina, caressing his outer lips and then moving to his inner ones, lingering on his clitoris for a few circular motions. The sensations are intense and fast, his body predisposed for more release, and he becomes engrossed in his own bubble of pleasure as he masturbates.

Forgetting the world around him as two of his fingers caress that wonderful little ball, side to side and circularly, moving down to his opening when he feels too much pleasure and is about to come only to delay his peak, prolonging the stimulation as long as he can.

His eyes close and his attention wanders among all the physical sensations he is experiencing, failing to notice those eyes staring intently at him from the bathroom door. Fully convinced of being alone in the house, he never restrained his moans or sounds, catching his older brother's attention.

Madara approaches the bathtub, and only when his presence is unnoticeable, Izuna finally opens his eyes. He gives him a tender and embarrassed smile, feeling exposed but comfortable all at the same time, and accepts the hand his Aniki extends to him to get out of the tub.

No words are needed to understand each other, connected in a superior way and without the need to explain, and as he covers himself with a bathrobe, the Uchiha leader empties the tub, both then walking in the same direction to Madara's room.

It is his favorite place to be whenever horny, surrounded by the overpowering scent of his Aniki and feeling totally safe and secure, sheltered by the presence of the most capable Alpha to take care of him and please him. No one knows him like he does, no one knows how to press the right buttons and disarm him under his hands like his older brother, no one understands him the way Madara does.

The leader arranges some pillows on his bed one on top of the other, forming a pile on which Izuna can rest his back and not feel so much pressure on his stomach from the baby's position, ensuring as much comfort as possible for him.

The way he tends to him, making sure he has everything he needs and more, is the biggest turn on factor when it comes to his older brother, ever attentive to him in every way possible, the perfect dominant.

As he lies down on the bed and opens the bathrobe wide, he observes Madara tie his hair into a high ponytail, pulling any strands out of the middle for convenience.

He approaches from the side, climbing over the mattress but avoiding placing himself on him so as not to press his protruding belly, and with one hand exactly where the baby kicks, he kisses him deeply.

How his Aniki's lips move, the contact of his mouth on his, the exactness of his tongue inside his mouth, has no equal, only Madara being able to take him to the limit without even touching him. He can't excuse himself by saying it's the pregnancy hormones, always having this effect on him since the first time they touched like this.

"Aniki... I love you..." He speaks between kisses and holding his brother's face between both hands, desperate to taste and feel him completely. This his Alpha, the dominant who he wishes to be bitten and branded by, the one he wants to belong to completely.

"I love you too, Izuna." The older Uchiha looks into his eyes, foreheads pressed together and undeniable visual contact, black orbs connected in a union of loyalty and passion, pure love that cannot be explained in words. The bond they both share escapes any kind of rationality, and it seems that life divinely united them by making each other Alpha and Omega, destined to be together from the beginning.

Madara is his person, the only one who understands him from beginning to end, who he wants by his side for the rest of his life. There is no safer place than his arms, no more beautiful spot than his eyes, no more perfect location than his lips.

Locking eyes with him exposes love on another level, pure affection in inexplicable ways, and they both lose themselves in each other's kisses in such intimate situations. Soon, they are joined in a deep embrace again, Izuna moaning into his older brother's tongue at the devastating effect he has on her body.

"Please..."

His Aniki replies with a small smile, showing he knows what he wants, and settles between his legs to help him with what he couldn't finish. He holds his pelvis by tangling his arms under his thighs, and his two hands are placed at the base of his belly, caressing the residence of that future baby.

"You're perfect, you know that don't you?" he asks before plunging into his crotch, giving no room for an answer. He slides his tongue from his hole to his clitoris like licking ice cream, flicking the tip up and down on top.

The moans he gets from his younger brother are deep and immediate, spurring him to act with more force and precision. He laps the entire exterior slowly, and concentrates both of his lips on that wonderfully sensitive nub as he sucks, flicking his tongue and attacking the area with pure enjoyment.

Izuna's fingers dig into his hair and tug at it, pressing him even harder against his skin and demanding more and more.

One of his thumbs moves down to his clit, and his tongue now turns to concentrate on devoutly thrusting into him. Madara moves in and out of his hole pointing upwards, brushing that sensitive area with precision while his finger stimulates him at the same time.

He exerts more force on the grip he has on his pelvis to prevent movement, holding him with determination to prevent him from escaping his stimulation. Madara knows he is sensitive, he can feel the scent of two other known Alphas on him even though he bathed, and he is aware they probably fucked him before he came home.

His tongue acts as relief and punishment at the same time, pretending to ignore the mark Izuna wears on his neck so as not to get angry and take it out on him.

The Uchiha could delay his pleasure, not let him finish or push him to the limit a few times before giving him release, let him know he knows about the little adventure he had today only because of the Senju brothers' scent permeating the whole fucking bathroom, but he chooses to be lenient and ignore his brother's sexual insistence.

If he wants pleasure, sex, he can have it here at home with him, but he also understands that hormones make him do stupid things mindlessly. Izuna doesn't need anyone but him, he doesn't need any other Alpha, he has everything he could ever want in Madara himself.

When that baby is born and finally everyone understands this Omega belongs to him, the Uchiha Leader will mark him for good by biting his neck, claiming him as his own and not allowing anyone else to touch him.

He strongly releases his own scent to ensure his younger brother is covered in it, erasing that of the others, permeating the entire room with even more dominance and enjoying how Izuna rubs against his sheets, his pillows, his bed. He is his, ultimately, and deeply his.

He again engages his clit with his tongue, and smiles self-satisfiedly as the younger Uchiha convulses in his mouth, finishing on his lips and tensing his whole body with pleasure. Izuna tries to move his head from between his legs, but Madara punishes him with over-stimulation and a second orgasm followed by another, only stopping when he sees tears in his eyes.

He moves up to his mouth again, kissing him lovingly and making him swallow his own fluids, whispering a "you are mine" against his lips and receiving a "yours, Aniki" in response. The honesty he feels in Izuna's words puts him at ease, completely confident that the baby inside him is his.

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