#I WATCHED THE SUN RISE WITH YOU??????????? AND HAD TO WAKE UP LIKE.. 2 HOURS LATER???

[vettelsvee]

I DON'T APOLOGIZE FOR WINNING | Sebastian Vettel

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rbr sebastian vettel x schumacher!reader | part 2 here

summary: y/n thinks she's sick from f1 traveling stress, but what if that's not the reason of her sickness?

word count: 992

warnings: hints of having sex. mentions of wishing to die (because reader is sick af). use of y/n

you can send your one shots requests here! feedback, as well as comments and reblogs, are truly appreciated!

It was barely five in the morning, and the sun was beginning to rise on the horizon of the city of Berlin. Sebastian and you, without having been able to rest after the German Grand Prix that had taken place just hours ago, were at the airport of the German capital, ready to head to Hungary, where the next Formula 1 competition would be held.

You were aware that following the lifestyle of a high-level racing driver was not easy. However, you didn't think that getting eight hours of sleep or having free time would become privileges that you would have, in part, during the holiday period. Despite the excitement that filled you every time you embarked on a new destination, you had been feeling unwell for several days, and no matter how hard you tried to remedy it, all you did was worsen it.

Seb, who knew you well enough to know that something was wrong, tried not to make a big deal out of it. He knew that you tended to get sick frequently, although the fact that you was quieter than usual and didn't have as much energy as usual started to worry the blonde who, at the moment of takeoff, observed carefully as your face grew paler, while you gripped the armrest of the seat tightly.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Sebastian asked with concern.

You tried to breathe deeply to calm the wave of nausea you were feeling right now.

"Yes," you simply replied, faking a smile. "I just feel a little uncomfortable with takeoff, you know airplanes and I are not friends. Stop worrying, love. You'll see it'll pass soon."

Despite your multiple reassurances, Seb couldn't convince himself. Your eyes reflected how you felt, and he had no doubt that you were hiding something from him to avoid worrying him.To try to relax you, he leaned towards you to leave a kiss on your cheek.

"Sweetheart, I know you've told me you're okay, but if you start feeling worse, let me know, okay?"

You nodded, silently thanking the German for his concern.

Although he tried not to make a big deal out of it, the truth was that as the flight progressed towards its destination, you felt worse, even reaching the point where nausea turned into frequent trips to the bathroom to vomit, and constant dizziness into a desire to faint and not wake up for a few days.

"Seb, I swear… I can't deal with this anymore."

After suddenly getting up from your seat, hurrying to the bathroom trying not to cause too much commotion among the other passengers, you quickly locked yourself in the small cubicle, bending over the toilet to empty everything you didn't know you had inside yourself. Sebastian watched with concern as you fled, trying not to lose his composure under the curious gaze of those present, including a few Red Bull engineers.

“Y/N!”, Seb called out as quietly as he could, anxious because you weren’t responding. “Are you okay? Please, open the door.”

You didn't answer him, which only heightened Vettel's anxiety. He fixed his gaze on the bathroom door, waiting for you to come out and give him some explanation of what was happening.

After what felt like an eternity, you emerged from the bathroom with a completely pale face and a tired look. Sebastian simply pulled her close to his chest and held her tightly in an embrace.

"Love, what's wrong?" he said anxiously. "I need to know what's going on. Things can't continue like this if you're going to keep accompanying me. I'm sure it's getting to you: everything is overwhelming you and..."

Suddenly, you began to cry from the helplessness you were feeling, causing Sebastian to hold you even tighter, stroking your back to help you relax as much as possible.

"I can't take it anymore, Seb. I feel awful. I want to die right now."

"We should seek help," he said, wiping your tears away. "We'll see what we can do now to keep you as relaxed as possible for the remainder of the flight, okay? And when we land, we'll go to an emergency room to see what's wrong with you."

Sebastian then called one of the flight attendants in their area and explained the distressing situation, emphasizing that he wouldn't want anyone to find out to avoid conflicts with both the media and his team. The flight attendant simply nodded and informed them to return to their seats, immediately assisting the world champion's partner.

"Mrs. Vettel, here's some water and an aspirin," the woman kindly offered you. "Additionally, I've informed the crew about your wife's situation," she said, now looking at the blonde, "and they confirmed that if she gets worse, there's no problem in making an emergency landing at the nearest airport."

"I'm not Sebastian's wife..."

"Thank you very much," the driver interrupted, thanking the flight attendant for her assistance.

The German began to laugh at your reaction as soon as the woman left.

"You should have seen your face, Y/N. You can't deny that you didn't mind being referred to as my wife," Seb said, stroking your hair and opening the water bottle for you to take a sip.

The flight continued, and although the nausea had been brought under control, the discomfort persisted. The couple was aware that there was only, thankfully, about half an hour of travel left.

"Darling," Sebastian whispered sweetly. "Close your eyes and focus on your breathing: inhale through your nose, and exhale through your mouth. I'm here, hold my hand."

You followed your partner's instructions, allowing yourself to be guided by his voice, which was truly comforting in those moments, in each inhalation and exhalation. Gradually, you began to feel calmer, and you would even swear that you hadn't felt this way in several days.

Finally, the plane reached its destination. You felt greatly relieved that the flight, which had caused you so much distress, had come to an end as it had left her physically and mentally exhausted.

As soon as your feet touched Hungarian soil, Sebastian made sure that you felt as comfortable as possible before heading to the hotel. Despite the rush Britta, Sebastian's PR, took a moment in some small seats to rest and, as much as possible, recover from the turbulent journey they had just endured.

Although he knew he might hurt your feelings, Sebastian decided to broach the subject with a mischievous smile:

"Love, don't you think we've had enough intense Sunday nights celebrating my victories? Because I think it's led to something good."

At first, you were a bit confused, but a few seconds later you let out a shy and sweet laugh. The driver wasn't lying: sex had become your ritual to bid farewell to the weekend and, above all, as a celebration of Seb's victories that season. Now that you remembered, there were quite a few occasions where you didn’t use protection, so you thought that the possibility was even more up in the air now.

"It could be, Seb," you said with a knowing smile. "If I am, we could have a pretty big problem..."

"Please, love, don't say that," Vettel drew closer to you, taking your hand and gently tracing small circles on it with his fingers. "If you're pregnant, I'm sure you'll be an amazing mother. Besides, I know we haven't talked about this, but I've always wanted to be a father and I can't imagine anyone better than you to fulfill this dream."

Tears began to form in your eyes, and you hurried to wipe them away to prevent your boyfriend from noticing.

"So, what do you say? Should we tell Britta that we need to go to the pharmacy and buy a test? That way we can find out, and if it's a no, we can keep trying," you clarified eagerly. "What do you think about tonight?"

Feeling excited, after you explained the situation to the woman who had become another member of the family, and who, obviously, had been thrilled at the possible news, headed to the nearest pharmacy to avoid arousing suspicions among the journalists and paparazzi, who were lurking around with the intention of getting the latest scoop on the man of the moment.

Alone together and holding the small bag containing the test, you began to feel nervous as they approached their room. Upon entering the suite, you both sat on the edge of the bed, taking a moment to calm themselves before checking whether you would become parents.

"Okay," you said, taking a deep breath, "I'm ready."

After that, you opened the box containing the test and went to the bathroom, where you followed the instructions carefully. Once finished, you placed it on the surface of the sink and returned to where Seb was, waiting for the indicated time to pass to see the result.

You approached your boyfriend, who gently stroked your back once again to comfort you. He knew you were nervous and scared. He felt the same way.

"Whatever the result is, I'm grateful to have a woman like you in my life. I'll be by your side no matter what, ok?" Sebastian reassured you.

Tears filled the your eyes again, and as you looked at your watch and saw that the waiting time was over, you ran as fast as you could to the bathroom, followed by an anxious Sebastian.

Quickly, you took the test in your hands and saw the result:

"It's positive!" you shouted, your voice trembling. "I'm pregnant, Sebastian!"

A wave of emotions engulfed you both, not knowing what to do except to embrace tightly as you felt a mixture of astonishment and joy, as well as uncertainties about what could happen from that moment on.

"Well, it turns out that in the end I'm not just good at pointing with my index finger when I win," Sebastian teased you mischievously.

"I find it surreal that you're making dirty jokes after finding out we're going to have a child."

"I guess," the driver continued playfully, "we'll have to tell this little one that his dad is a two-time, for now, Formula 1 world champion, and that his mother is a champion in other aspects."

You laughed at your boyfriend's quips, finding them unbelievable.

"Come on, Seb, don't act modest now saying you didn't have merit. You know perfectly well that I motivated you quite a bit during those baby-making sessions."

"Of course, I'm not saying otherwise," the German continued jokingly. "I'm sure the baby will become the royalty of Formula 1. Who wouldn't want to have Vettel and Schumacher genes?"

Both of you burst into laughter, filling the room, giving way your thoughts on how you would tell your families, the media, your respective coworkers... Especially, you spent a few minutes sharing your expectations about what your life would be like from that day on.

"Miss Schumacher and future Mrs. Vettel, let me tell you that now that we know we're expecting a little miracle, I propose we celebrate it in a more... intimate way."

"You can't even give me a day's break, can you? I don't know about you, but I'm convinced my father wouldn't find it amusing to hear his daughter screaming to ask her boyfriend for more," you said, knowing your father would be in the adjacent rooms.

"I know," Seb simply said, "but I’ve won in life, and I don't apologize for winning."

[forteafy]

Where Do We Go? | CL16 & CS55

Summary: Charles will do anything to fix his marriage with you, Carlos will do anything to prove you're worth more. The question is where do you go between the two men fighting for your affection?

Word Count: 9.7k

Warnings: angst, a lotta angst, cheating, light smut, character death.

Note: You all really wanted a Part 2 to this one, and of course, I wanted to deliver! This is a little bit more angsty, we’re trying to save a relationship, after all. Or…are we? Also, a massive thank you to @formulaforza for proof-reading this for me and pulling me up on my addiction to italics; my brain is literally jelly right now. Enjoy, everybody!

PART 1: A House, A Home | PART 2: Where Do We Go? | PART 3: 'You Think, You Know'

Carlos Sainz is a best friend. 

Best friends, however, do not text a love confession to one another in the hours of a rising sun, especially not when their declaration is to a woman who is wrapped up in the arms of her husband. 

The confession had run cold through your veins; if it hadn’t been for the sheer exhaustion taking over your body from the events of the past 48 hours, you were certain you would have been up the entire night, contemplating the words he had sent to you. He wasn’t drunk; far from it, the man had driven you down the dusky streets to your home mere hours before. Was he lonely? Did he feel sorry for you? More importantly, did he mean those precious words that had lit up your screen?

Eventually, the desire for sleep, for the warmth of your estranged husband’s chest pillowing your back overtakes your body. You hadn’t slept in a bed with him since the last day of your supposed honeymoon; even then, you had slept with an infinite gap between the two of you, cuddling instead into a pillow, rageful tears in your eyes at the realization that this was now your life. 

This was entirely different. Charles pressed into you as if holding you together; his warm breath danced across the nape of your neck, a hand pressed into your stomach, cradling you between the warm blankets and soft cushions you had picked out when decorating your room. You didn’t rouse during the night, the two before had been filled with tears, constantly awakening to call for your mother as if you were a child again, the harsh realization that she wasn’t around anymore. 

When you did wake, the bed was empty. 

You had subconsciously turned in the blankets when you arose, expecting to see the figure of your husband next to you. The pillow was still rumpled, his glasses disappeared from the nightstand, every single trace of him had seemed to evaporate. Clearly, one night next to you had been a big enough mistake in his eyes. 

Instead, your attention turns towards your phone. Silently, you remove the device from its charger, the homescreen being flooded with sympathetic messages and photographs of you arriving at your father’s home. Luckily, no photographs of Carlos picking you up himself had been released; that would have caused a frenzy which wasn’t desired on either side. 

However, his last text to you that evening before still stayed burned into your screen. In curiosity, you’d once again opened the text thread, seeing th

e words stand strong, his confession to his feelings presents for your eyes. He had laid it out so clearly, Carlos Sainz was in love with you. 

But, were you in love with him? You loved your family; you loved the smell of fresh candles. You adored the sounds of the fastest cars in the world racing around a track whilst you watched with ease. Did you categorize your best friend into the love you so carefully crafted? Was the desire you felt for contact solely directed towards him? 

You never had time to answer yourself that morning. Your subconscious state recognised the sound of footsteps; it was most likely Charles, on his way to his own room for some private time. Maybe he’d have his mistress with him, having snuck out of bed early that morning to possibly go and pick her up himself. 

The footsteps get louder, the door to your room opens, much to your confusion. In the doorway, stands your husband. You’ve never seen him like this; a soft smile, hair pushed back by a bandana, glasses resting on the bridge of his small nose. He’s dressed in a soft, grey jumper and matching tracksuit bottoms, fluffy socks warming his feet. In one arm, he cradles a washing bag. Upon closer inspection, you see that it’s your washing from the case you had lugged in the night before, ironed and folded. In his other hand, he holds a steaming mug of tea. 

He looks beautiful like this, almost ethereal. He looks domestic. 

“Good morning.” He speaks gently, as if any sudden sound would hurt you. You looked…so precious, covered in blankets, your pajamas covering your modesty. “I’m sorry I had to leave early. I went to get your washing done and…pick up some tea.” He offers, holding up the bag of washing in confirmation. Charles offers you a smile as walks into the room, placing the pile of clothing on your vanity. Cradling the mug of hot tea in his hand, he walks back over to where you’re now sat up, surrounded by soft furnishings, offering you the drink which you gladly accept. 

It's a mediocre cup of tea at best; the teabag hasn’t diluted properly, there’s too little milk and too much sugar. Yet, the fact he had made the drink himself caused your heart to soften, despite the past twelve months of actions. You offer him a soft ‘thank you,’ as the drink touches your lips. You’re half-expecting him to stand up and leave immediately. Instead, Charles sits himself down on the edge of the bed, making certain he doesn’t sit on your outstretched legs. 

There’s a moment of bliss; you’re somewhat enjoying the drink cradled in your hands, your husband’s eyes trained on your movements. At one moment, he reaches out his hand towards your face. You flinch, not too sure on what was happening, before his palm simply tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You can’t bring your own eye gaze to meet him, simply focusing on the hot drink in your hand. You can’t help but notice the way his shoulders fall, clearly not satisfied with the lack of eye-contact. 

You can’t help it; it’s as if Charles believes with one night wrapped in his arms would solve the past twelve months. You couldn’t forget, not everything that had happened. Your husband had shattered this relationship, well and truly. He could only hope he’d realised in enough time to somehow win you back. Silently, he stands up from the edge of the comforter, walking towards the vanity, beginning to remove the clothing from its basket. It’s… humorous, to see him try and figure out where each category goes. It’s also a stark reminder of how this is ‘your’ room, not ‘our’ room.  

Whilst picking out a rather revealing pair of panties, folding them up and placing them into your draw, he begins to speak again. “What are you doing this afternoon?” His voice is soft, but in the silent room it carries well.

You shrug, before realizing Charles has his back to you. “I’m…nothing much.” You cut yourself off, placing the cup of tea on your bedside table, letting your hands pull up the comforter a little higher. “My father is going to the funeral parlor today.” Are you…having a conversation with your husband? “How about you?”

“I have lunch with the Ferrari team this afternoon. Nothing serious, just a talk on the next part of the season.” He explains. Charles isn’t stupid; he knows despite your father’s input that you constantly worry about his job. Not because you care about his fame, wealth or power; you care about him. 

“I was,” he takes a breath. “I was wondering if you would like to come along.” 

You feel goosebumps prickle across your exposed skin. Charles Leclerc never invited you to his lunches. He’d always have a reason as to why his darling Mrs. Leclerc could never attend their lunch meetings alongside him. The only time you’d ever appear by his side, fingers harshly interlinked and a cold barrier between you both was when your father insisted upon it. He wouldn’t be there today, there was no way he’d be present for any form of meeting for a while now. 

“You don’t have to, of course.” His explanation runs further. “I know it might be too much for you now. I just thought…maybe we could go for a drive after. Carlos and Xavi will be there, you’ll know some of the others from the Paddock…” His voice trails off in your mind. It had started to  the moment he had said the Spaniards name. 

Were you… ready to see Carlos? The day after a text message you had never thought you’d see. Would he acknowledge the message, was it a drunken mistake? Most importantly, did you want him to love you? 

When you come back out of your trail of thoughts, Charles is still talking, carefully hanging one of your summer dresses onto a velvet coat hanger. He takes a moment to brush the fabric under his fingertips, feeling the soft cotton under his touch. He’s so gentle. The touch is almost identical to the way he had held you mere hours ago.

“I’ll come.” You cut him off, watching as his head snaps in your direction, eyes bright underneath his glasses. “Yeah. It will be…nice.” You finish your sentence, trying not to ramble or to float off topic. Charles’ eyes are still bright, elated you had decided to come alongside him. All he had to do now was fix every other mistake spanning over twelve months. 

Carlos Sainz is a red-wine gentleman. 

You’d immediately spotted him the moment you had entered the waterside restaurant; his back was to the entrance, but you’d recognise the powdered blue shirt and dark wisps of hair in any circumstance. You could have just walked over, stood next to him and ordered a drink, but your fingers stayed tightly interlocked with your husbands, a force of habit in public at the current rate. 

However, his grasp, like the entirety of his actions over the past twenty-four hours, was different. Charles’ thumb gently stroked over your knuckle, his fingers gently resting against yours instead of the firm grip he usually held for the sake of actions. He’d taken a moment to look at you before entering the building, something he’d never done in the past, simply having dragged you into whatever location instead. It was as if his eyes told you a million things; that he had your back and the moment you wanted to leave, he was right behind you. 

The moment you’re in the presence of company, the façade still comes alive, the act you had been creating for all this time is still a force of habit. Charles’ hand comes around your waist, greeting the many members of the Scuderia Ferrari team, thanking them for his time and attention to the matter. As always, you tactfully excuse yourself from the side of your husband, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek and removing yourself from the crowd. Usually, he wouldn’t so much as flinch from the chaste action, but you don’t miss his eyes longing for you to stay this time. 

Instead, your heel-clad feet press through the tiles of the place, making advancements towards the white marbled-bar. You receive a nod from the friendly-looking gentleman mixing cocktails, a silent signal to let him know when you’re ready. Maybe you stand too close to Carlos, so much so that you can smell his cologne, you can feel his body warmth radiating through that shirt. It doesn’t take long for him to notice your presence, his eyes widening upon the realization that it was, in fact, you–the woman he had confessed his feelings to less than twelve hours ago. 

“I didn’t realize you’d be here, Mariposa,” he taunts, pulling you into his side. You’re grinning immediately, happy to be reunited with your close friend after how he had left you last night, promising he’d be there if you needed anything. “Come to make sure your husband behaves?” 

“No. I came to see how his teammate is behaving.” You let him ponder for a moment, but he realizes, the blush growing from his neck to his cheeks. “I’m a married woman, Carlos.” You remind him but make no attempt to move further away. The idea is completely eradicated when his hand comes out to rest on the small of your back. His eyes are still fixed on you. He knows he shouldn’t be doing this. It’s not fair to you. He couldn’t care less about his teammate’s position, the way he’s treated you all this time leaves a sour taste on his tongue. 

“Your marital status doesn’t change the way I feel for you.” He thinks back to that moment in the ocean. What on Earth would be happening if he had kissed you at that moment? He could never be certain, but something tells him you’d be his date to this luncheon right now. Sighing, Carlos turns to face you directly, the bottle of wine he had originally come to pick up having been left on the counter. 

“I’m going to ask you something, and you don’t have to respond.” He tries to keep his breathing calm, your presence practically overpowering him. “But...I would love to take you out for a date sometime. A proper date. With flowers and dinner and being able to make you smile.” Your heart is softening by the moment with the Spaniard’s pleads of everything your husband had never given you. “Would you like that?” 

“I would.” You don’t even have to think of your response. “I would like that, Carlos.” At that moment, your estranged husband is the last thought of your mind; instead it’s overpowered by the fantasies of a date with the man standing in front of you. This time, Carlos can’t help the grin on his lips, reaching for the bottle of red wine on the bar. His careful hands carefully unlatch the stopper, the liquid hitting two crystal glasses, one of which he passes to you.

“Well, shall we toast the idea, no?” he holds up the glass delicately, to which you raise your own, grinning at the satisfying sound of clinking crockery. When you take a sip of the rich red, you’re blissfully unaware of your husband’s eyes; the ones which are never attached to you, but in that moment, don’t want to focus on anything else. Nobody misses the way he purposely sits between yourself and his teammate, fingers interlocked into yours tightly, the occasional kiss on the temple of your head. 

You were his wife, after all. 

Carlos Sainz is a brilliant cook. 

The intimacy between yourself and your husband had oddly grown within the past week. To start, his messages became more frequent, checking in when he couldn’t be at the house. Your pantry had stocked overnight, begging for your home cooking whenever he could be there to sample it. Most importantly, the interaction. You’d been hesitant to even let your husband touch you in the beginning. You had kept it simple, a hug before you’d headed off to bed in your room, (sleeping in the same bed as him had been that one-off.) His arms would find their way onto your waist if you were cooking, his fingers would tuck a lock of hair behind your ear when you found yourself engrossed in studies. 

Your husband had been elated when you had spoken to him two days before he was due to leave for Qatar, announcing you would like to attend alongside him; it was also your father’s wishes to attend that race, wanting to signal to his fellow associates that he was okay, that you could pass on a message from your family. Charles’ eyes had glossed over with happiness, taking your hand in his own, pressing a kiss to the back of your knuckles. 

You were ready for your entrance to the Paddock 72 hours later; after arriving in Qatar, you’d barely seen anything from the transport from his jet to the hotel. Your eyes had grown heavy the moment your feet were removed from their shoes, two large beds welcoming you with their soft blankets and heavy pillows. (He’d made sure to give you the sleeping space that you needed.) Charles’ heart had softened when he’d seen you curl into one bed. When he returned from the bathroom, you were out like a light. 

It didn’t stop him from gently rubbing a makeup wipe over your features, knowing you’d regret your lack of attention to appearance in the morning. Hesitantly, he leans forward, pressing a kiss to your hairline, one hand stroking over the back of your head before he returns to unpacking both yours and his suitcase. 

You had been hesitant of attending the Paddock alongside Charles that morning, not because you were worried of the bombarding questions. No, this was the first time you had attended the paddock with a husband who seemed comforted by your presence. His heart felt gentle when he saw you look out of the front windscreen, eyes transfixed on the countless photographers standing by the barriers. Immediately, his hand finds yours, resting atop your thigh, the hot weather pleading for a cooler outfit. 

“You don’t have to do this.” He removes his sunglasses, those ocean eyes finding your own. “You can wait here, or I can have somebody drive you back to the hotel now.” He promises, the worry flickering over his face. Your hand removes itself from his firm grasp, instead reaching forward and resting your hand on his bristled cheek. 

“I’m okay.” You promise him, thumb dancing over his soft cheekbone. He offers you a soft smile, eyelashes fluttering as your face gets closer to his; you have no panic leaning over the console of the hire-car, gently pressing a warm kiss to the cheek your hand wasn’t resting upon. You can’t help but hesitate when you pull back from his face, lingering within mere millimeters of his lips for a long moment; you could just lean forward, press your lips to his and give into all those nights you had dreamed of. But this wasn’t a dream; this was your husband whom you needed to fix a relationship with first. 

Charles isn’t going to lean forward and kiss you himself, not until the signals you are giving him are crystal clear. Instead, he presses his forehead close to yours, tips of your noses gently brushing against one another before he steps out of the car, and you’re quick to follow. 

This time, he doesn’t walk in silence, ignoring your presence. Instead, as the two of you flash your paddock passes towards the security guards, he’s openly commenting on different happenings around Media Day, both of you falling into giggles upon seeing Toto Wolff’s broken arm; he was truly beginning to become an icon at the local emergency room. You’re happy. Subdued in a bubble alongside your husband, hands interlocked as you work your way through the paddock. 

You’ve never experienced such a harsh blow to reality when you see an all-too-familiar figure lurking outside of the Williams Racing building. Her hair is shorter, her skirt is skimpier and a ghastly color. However, she still looks beautiful. She is undoubtedly the woman you’ve fought and lost your husband’s affection from, his mistress. 

Charles seems to clock less than a moment after you do, both bodies freezing upon notifying her presence. You seem to have a quicker reaction time, despite being in the presence of a world-class Formula Driver. Immediately, you rip your grasp from Charles’ hand, showing him no emotion as you step away and into the Ferrari Building. You’re fortunate enough to avoid most of your fathers’ colleges, only once having to stop to give a sympathizing message of your mothers’ passing, the words being used are minute compared to the ache in your heart for her presence. 

When you reach the top of the dark stairs, almost certain you can hear Charles’ voice below you. He’s searching for you now, but instead is overwhelmed by the amount of people in his presence. You’re able to sneak through the makeshift corridor, finding a large number ’55,’ pressed onto the door. You don’t even think, opening the door to a very tanned, very shirtless Carlos Sainz.

He's so… toned. The natural light from the window is reflecting beautifully onto his chest, broader than you’d last seen during your adventures at sea. His shorts hang low on his waist, making no attempt to shift his body despite your appearance. Instead, his dressing is overtaken by his concern for your face, immediately dropping the shirt fisted in his right hand, taking your gentle face in between both of his palms. You didn’t even realize the tears resting on your cheeks, the fear glossed over in your eyes that you’d ever trusted Charles.

Carlos doesn’t need to ask; he saw her on his own entry to the Paddock. Admittedly, he had to double-take; surely Charles wouldn’t have the audacity to bring his mistress to the other side of the world. He didn’t bother to glance in her direction too long, instead greeting the Ferrari team, excusing himself to go and get changed for their upcoming press appearances. In this moment, he’s held you against his bare chest, hushing you gently as one hand threads through your hair. Your mind is overwhelmed, from seeing your husband’s mistress, but from being pressed against his oh-so warm chest. 

You don’t even realize, but your palms are resting on his chest, his skin so soft beneath your touch. Carlos gently hushes you, tilting your head up to face him, still cradled in his grasp. He could so easily reach forward, claim you there and then, but he realizes in that moment, under your soft touch and those doe eyes, you are the one who has claimed him. After a moment, he pulls back, motioning for you to follow him towards the couch, littered in Spanish-themed cushions and the enormous chili plushie you had bought him several months ago. 

You can’t help the slight disappointment when Carlos eventually slips on his Ferrari Polo; however, you are interested when he reaches for his small fridge, pulling out a neat lunchbox, motioning for you to grasp it whilst he reaches for another. Curiosity takes the better of you, gently unclasping the lid of the Tupperware box. A beautiful aroma overtakes your senses, a carefully crafted meal nestled into the lunchbox. The Spaniard can’t help but grin at your reaction; sometimes something as simple as a homemade meal could lift your spirits.

And that’s how you spent the next forty-five minutes, sat on the sofa of Carlos Sainz’s driver room, the man sat on the floor as the two of you exchanged bites of food. There’s one particular moment where you offer him a spoonful of your lunchbox, watching as he arches his torso towards you. 

It’s almost…sensual, the way his lips wrap around the top of the spoon, maintaining sole eye contact as he retracts his mouth from the utensil, letting his tongue trace around his lips for a chase of the taste. He knows what he’s doing; in his mind, all he wants is to show how adored you could be, to show he could be everything your husband never was.

It isn’t until Charles is finally free from the bombarding questions of his sponsors that he finally locates you in Carlos’ room. The man isn’t oblivious; he can see that the two of you have grown undeniably close. He can’t bring himself to say anything on the matter. He knows, in his heart of hearts, he has no right to make any assumptions; he was the one who had spent hours with a mistress, after all. Silently, he opens the door to the driver’s room, your figure perched upon the sofa, a grin plastering your soft features. You looked happy.

You looked like the most beautiful girl he had seen in his life. 

You acknowledge his presence after a few moments, standing up from your place on the sofa, insisting the man tries Carlos’ cooking. It takes less than a few blinks of your eyes for him to submit, taking the spoonful off your utensil, making a comment towards his teammate that he would have to give him some lessons at some point. The man says nothing, simply nodding in a passive agreement. 

There’s a sharp call for Charles after he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. He shoots both you and his teammate an apologetic look before he makes his way down the corridor, gently closing the door behind him as to give you a sense of privacy; the last thing he wanted was to have you plastered all over social media pages when he knew it would purely be used for publicity purposes. 

You’re still smiling when the door closes, your back to Carlos’ front. “He seems to like you-“ 

You were destined to never finish that sentence. Within a split moment, there are warm hands, rough hands resting on either side of your waist, twisting your body within his grasp. He takes two steps backwards, enough pacing to have your back pressed against the closed door: the coldness of the wood contrasting violently with the heat radiating off your best friend. 

He couldn’t hold any emotion. Carlos Sainz wears his heart on his sleeve. That much is adamant, from the way his text messages were drafted, to the way he tilts his head, meshing his lips to your own. 

They’re surprisingly soft; there’s nothing soft in the way his hands grasp at your waist, the way his body is pressing so deeply into yours. Yet, as his lips continue to entrance yours, they feel like clouds; a gentle stroke of a paintbrush. His artistry continues when his kisses get deeper, one of his hands enclosing yours, bringing it to rest around his shoulders, pushing the two of you closer together. Your other hand is interlocked by his, being stretched above your head, pinned to the door you’re resting upon. 

He's waited so long for this, before lunch, before your moment in the sea. He’s wanted this since the moment you walked into the Ferrari Paddock alongside your father, you must have been etched into his heart. 

Carlos isn’t thinking; his kisses are becoming rougher, one hand blindly reaching for your leg, almost bare from the shorts you had opted from your wardrobe earlier. He guides it to rest upon his hip, grunting when he can feel his hardened crotch press between your legs. His reality comes crashing down when he feels the cool band on your fingers entangling in his hair. Your wedding ring. 

Ragged breaths, panting, he pulls away from your lips, pressing his forehead to your own in a sheer plea of comfort. Both your breaths are synchronized, both grasping for some form of air in the room. 

“You’re everything, Mariposa.” He whispers, closing his dark eyes, enjoying his moment, taking every opportunity to imprint the feeling of your body, of your lips into his mind. He prays this won’t be the last time he holds you this way. 

Carlos Sainz is a fast texter. 

In the moments after you had shared the intimacy, hidden away in his driver’s room, he’s gone into a sheer panic. He’d overstepped, he’d made an advancement on you at your most vulnerable. When he had left for the press alongside your husband, he didn’t have a single chance to pull you aside, not when you had left the moment after the duo had been pulled into their press conferences. Simply, you were not waiting around to catch glimpses of the mistress, still proudly flocking around the Paddock as if it was her home.

It had taken a matter of moments to request a car home, having slipped out of the Ferrari building, talking to one of your father’s colleagues about your departure. Silently, you paced out of the building, a direct beeline towards the car park, head down from the ever-present photographers. 

You hadn’t expected a text from either your husband or his teammate, considering that they were both in press conferences until further notice. However, when you had felt and grasped the device in your shorts, you had immediately noticed the soft vibrations, pulling your device out of your pocket, your eyes being illuminated by the screen of your phone. Two text messages. One from your father, one from Carlos. Your attention is drawn to the latter, curious on what your best friend has to say. 

11:32: Carlos Sainz: 

I’m really, truly sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable. I haven’t seen Charles yet to let him know you left. You don’t have to see me again if you do not wish. 

11:36: You

It wasn’t you at all, I promise! I was aware that Charles’ mistress was about, I couldn’t stick about for that. 

Carlos messages you back, almost immediately. You’re confused, considering he is due to be in press alongside Charles. He could be having a break; he could have completely skipped out on several media appearances. 

11:38: Carlos Sainz

I wish you could have stayed longer. I meant what I said, every single word. Please let me know if you need anything.

11:41: You

I know, C. I appreciate it, even if I express it terribly. I’ll always be here for you, too. Always. 

You never get to see the next message that Carlos sends to you. Instead, your phone starts ringing, an incoming call from your father. You’re certain that the chauffeur won’t mind you taking the call whatsoever, holding the device to your ear as your father’s tone fills the void, his words becoming numbing as he runs through the details of your mother’s funeral, the tears in his voice beginning to swell heavily. 

Charles had left the Paddock as soon as he got notice of your departure. He hadn’t bothered to message, his sole focus being on returning to the hotel, to find out what on Earth had happened to you. He was fortunate enough to escape the wandering eyes of his ex-mistress, how on Earth she had gotten into the Paddock for that race was beyond him, especially since he had ceased contact from that day. 

The car arrives swiftly outside of the hotel; immediately, Charles is rushing through the back entrance, beelining for the staircase; waiting for an elevator at this moment would be too much. Within moments, he’s fumbling for his key card, pushing the door open, his heart shattering at the vision in front of him. 

You, his wife, sat on the edge of one of the king-size beds; your head is buried into your hands, heavy sobs racking through your body. He can see the goosebumps littering your skin, the solemn shakes running through you, the trauma of losing somebody you cared about so deeply, combined with a cocktail of emotions from your entrance to the Paddock had become too much. 

He doesn’t care about boundaries, not at this point. Immediately, Charles has crouched in front of you, his gentle hands reaching to grasp around your wrists. There’s a flinch at the sudden contact; your skin had overheated from the sheer energy of crying; your husband’s cool touch was a stark contrast which made you shiver. Delicate touches pull your hands away from your eyes. They’re so red, so swollen. Had he ever made you react like that from his own actions. The Monegasque doesn’t want to question that right now, he can’t even bring himself to look into your broken eyes. Instead, he feels as your arms wrap around his neck, hiding your face in his neck, craving for somebody to just…hold you. 

Your husband has no issue in that desire; he lets you remain like that, Charles on his knees whilst you cling to him, the tears dampening through his shirt. One hand slides across your back, kneading gentle circles into your skin. At some point, you move onto the bed, the man lying back on the soft furnishings whilst you rest your head on his chest, arms encircling you as if he could hold you together, until the storm in your mind passes. 

When the tears subside, you finally find the energy to look up to your husband. He hadn’t reached for his phone, tried to find some form of entertainment whilst he held you to his chest for hours. Instead, his gaze had been fixed upon you, brushing a gentle stroke over your cheek, his fingers dancing against your skin, brushing away the tension from heavy lines and sobs. When your eyes do open, you’re greeted with a soft smile, Charles leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Do you need some water?” His concern is to bring you back up to health; now the tears have stopped, he can do this. “I can order some food; would you like that?” His voice is so quiet, as if a simple loud sound could shatter through your veins. You can’t muster up more than a nod, your body becoming colder when Charles’ gently shifts away, sitting up so he can reach for the telephone. His voice is so mesmerizing, speaking down the line as he requests different foods; he doesn’t mind how much he orders, if he can coax you into even eating a little, the man will be satisfied. 

The call finishes, but the man doesn’t sink back down into his previous position. Instead, whilst he remains sat up, Charles guides you to join him, your body still aching from your emotional breakdown. He murmurs under his breath as he pulls you into his lap, your body is tense until his strong arms wrap around your waist, the warmth instantly allowing you to relax, lean back into his firm chest. 

“I’ve wanted to speak to you for a few days.” His voice is soft, but the phrase causes you to feel a sharp panic dance down your chest. Surely, this can’t be good. The relationship had evolved from barely speaking to intimate conversations within a span of two weeks. You try, try so hard to keep a clear mind as your husband continues to address you. 

“How I’ve acted…how I treated you, all that time-“ He must stop himself, trying not to let his own emotion overpower his words. “I’m never going to be able to take it all back, and I will never be able to stop apologizing for it.” His whispers, his eyes growing misty with regret. “I will never forgive myself for how I treated you, nor do I ever expect you to forgive me. But…I want to try. I want to try and spend the rest of my days as you husband. I know…it won’t be overnight, but I’ll do anything, anything for you.”  

The tears are rolling down your own cheeks now; never, in your wildest dreams, did you expect for Charles to speak those words of affirmation to you. His hand moves cautiously, to your face, wiping the tears which were pooling across your features.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, letting one of his hands remain on your cheek. The man leans forward, pressing gentle butterfly kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your nose…he pauses, mere inches from your lips. He wants to kiss you; he’d promised himself he wasn’t going to push you; his mind and his heart are complete opposites. 

His mind goes into overdrive when you lean forward and press your lips to his own. They’re salty, slightly chapped, but undeniably something he has been craving for oh-so-long. Charles is immediately kissing you back, his grip around you tightening, keeping your body close to his own. Carefully, he shuffles the two of you back into a lying position, never once breaking the kiss, tumbling back onto the mattress.

Of course, you don’t miss his grumble of annoyance when the food eventually arrives.

 Carlos Sainz is a gentle kisser. 

An autumn breeze was strong on the dreaded day; the funeral had rolled around way too soon for your liking. Rows of family connections, close and distant friends lined the outside of the cemetery, eyes all transfixed on the black hearse rolling into view. Murmurs were pressed into silence, a bitter air all-too present as the ivory coffin was removed from the vehicle. Your elder brother and two cousins were to assist in carrying the piece into the church. Plans were soon suspended when the eldest of your siblings collapsed into tears, head in his hands upon the sheer realization that this was it.

Your father is desperately looking around, practically praying outside a place of worship that the eldest could pull himself together; it’s impossible. Whilst one of your arms is occupied, holding the hand of your young sister, the other gently wraps around his torso, comforting him in the ways he had done for you when you were nothing more than a young girl in messy braids and mismatched socks. 

His wife stood on his right-hand side, adamant on consoling the man as you were, a caring hand running across his back. Your husband stood next to your sister, her childish eyes blinking in confusion; just like you, she had never seen her brother this inconsolable. 

Charles feels a pain wash through him, he wants nothing more than to help his dear family through this moment. Maybe the act he was playing for so long was just a way of shielding himself from caring. Now he had bared his soul towards you, pleading for a second chance, the man wanted to be there for you, in every sense of the word. 

He murmurs something incoherently, stepping away from your side, leaning towards your father’s ear. Whatever he mumbles is met with a sharp nod, a firm pat on the shoulder in confirmation. Your husband keeps a firm gaze on the coffin, not catching your own eyes as he walks towards the piece to join your cousins. There’s a quick whisper between the men, before the ivory is shuffled from the car, resting on their suit-clad shoulders. Silence falls over the attendants as your mother is carried into the church, immediate family following closely behind. Hesitantly, your eyes look to the crowding people, and as if by fate, you see his dark eyes, the fluffy curls brushed back to conform. He shouldn’t look that good in a dark suit. 

Most noticeably, his gaze isn’t fixed on the church, on the six men carrying your mother. It’s transfixed on you. 

The service is beautiful, if you can describe it like that. Flowers are placed atop of your mother’s coffin, the service of words correlating to her soul, the hymns sung were always her favorite when you had frequented church as a young girl. However, there’s a turning point. When the priest begins to speak of her dear children, tears pool in your lower lash-line. You want to take the time for yourself, to mourn, but louder sobs are emitting from next to you; the youngest child is beginning to realize her mother is truly gone. 

You’re torn; pulling her towards you would only make you cry harder; you had already seen your father and brother fall apart, silently knowing you would have to be the one to wait by the door, thanking the copious guests for attending. Her tears are suddenly quietened when you see her gently shuffled into Charles’ lap; despite the estranged relationship for the past twelve months, he’d always had a soft spot for your sister, she reminded him of when Arthur was young. Whilst her tears turn softer, he runs a hand over her back, letting the young girl rest her heavy head in his sternum. 

The open gap in the seating allowed for you to shuffle closer towards your husband, his free arm wrapping around your torso. You had to remain sitting up straight; his presence right now would have to be enough for your comfort. To any unassuming eye, you would probably look like a family, the crowds of attendants would have no idea of the true story behind your marriage. Even on the darkest days, the narrative was played well.

When the service draws to a close, final prayers are spoken. The first to rise are your father and brother, both clinging to one-another as they must leave the building. Silently, you pull yourself away from your husband’s grasp, smoothing the skirt of your dress. Charles remains seated, your sister practically passing out atop of him. Today had been a heavy day for a child, after all. 

There are rows of people pausing to console you on your loss whilst you stand at the door of the church; friends you had known for oh-so-long, members of the Scuderia Ferrari team; you had never seen Fred Vasseur cry, but the redness of his eyes told you something completely different as he took one of your hands in his, squeezing it in apology. 

The pews filter out silently, a large group of the guests making their way back to your father’s home, the wake soon to begin, a blessing and want of your late mother. Sharp footsteps are emitted through the church, the penultimate duo being your husband and sister. He was still carrying her, head resting on his shoulder, almost completely asleep. Charles smiles at finally seeing you, using his free hand to run across the back of your head. 

“I’m going to take her back.” Charles explains to you. He understands you don't need the pressure of looking after her atop of everything else bound to come your way. “Let me know when you’re done here, please?” Silently, you nod, no hesitation needed as he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, bidding you farewell as he paces out of the church, holding your sister tightly in comfort. 

You believe that’s everybody, ready to collect your belongings and thank the priest for a heart-warming farewell. Before you can even think to turn around, there’s a light cough, emitting you to spin on your heel. 

He’s there. Still clad in his designer suit, hair pushed back behind his ears. Undeniably, Carlos Sainz looks good in any situation. He holds your bag in one hand, the other reaching out to clasp around your wrist. You gasp at the warm skin pressing to your own, heat radiating through your body. The man leans down, letting his lips brush against your own, a sweet feathering brush pressing onto you. Carlos wanted to be there for you, more than ever on what would be the hardest day. 

Seeing Charles take that position had made his blood boil. 

His grip on you remains tight as he leads you out of the church and towards his own car, parked in the most secluded section of the lot. When his grip falters to hold your hand instead, he doesn’t aim to correct it, instead only holding tighter. He only removes his grasp to unlock his car, sliding himself into the driving seat, pushing the recliner back as far as it would go. When the space is present, he guides you to rest atop of his lap, arms tightening around your waist as he lets the door close, bodies pressed together tightly. 

“Is this okay?” He murmurs, keeping your faces so close together. The built-up emotion, the desire since your last kiss had built a fire in your stomach, not so much as speaking before pressing your lips to his own. Whilst your own movements had become desperate, craving for some form of emotional release, his remained feather-light, one hand tangled into your hair, the other resting firmly on your waist. 

His lips are soon ghosting over your cheek, fluttering across your jawline and landing on your neck, small whines emitting from your lips as he seeks to trace his tongue over your sweetest spot. The sensation across your body, the hot touch of his skin and an undeniable bulge now settling between your legs. 

There’s a sudden realization that you needed to go home. Being with Carlos was the affection you desired, your heart knows however that right now, your family needs you. Hesitantly, you pull away from the man’s lips, feeling utterly guilty for the pleading look in his eyes as you rest your forehead against his own. He could never hate you for it, though. In his eyes, you could never draw that feeling from him. You don’t need to say anything, he knows. 

“I’ll drive you back.” He murmurs, pressing one final kiss to your lips before allowing you to slide into the leather passenger seat. 

The drive to your father’s home is almost silent; there’s an occasional rev of the engine, various horns from different cars along the highway. A part of you always prays that each drive with the Spaniard could last forever, you could drive into the distance and live happily ever after. The fairy-tale is soon dissolved when you pull to the driveway, hearing the engine of the car cease. Your eyes find Carlos’ side profile, still transfixed on the road ahead. 

“Are you coming in?” You ask gently. He sighs, the grip on his steering wheel becoming tighter.

“I can’t see you that close to him, Mariposa.” He murmurs, finally finding the courage to look you in the eyes. “Not when I want to be that close to you.” One hand finds its way off the wheel, entwining your fingers together, peppering light kisses against your knuckles. “Please call me when you go back. I’ll miss you.” 

“I’ll miss you too.” You whisper, leaning to press a kiss to his stubbled cheek. In that moment, Carlos Sainz is your savior. He’s your truth. 

Carlos Sainz is a liar. 

Your knuckles had turned white from the grasp on your phone, you didn’t want to believe anything you were seeing. What was supposed to be an impromptu browse of Twitter whilst waiting for your husband to finish in the en-suite, had turned into a deep dive through a certain hashtag, having seen information spread on a certain Ferrari driver.

It had started as a simple few tweets, some fans and gossip pages reckoning they had seen the driver in an exclusive club, some random blonde sitting on top of him. The photos came second, though the angle was skewed, the quality too weak to see who was there. The final nail was the video; Carlos’ hand placed on her waist, how he had done to you mere hours ago, his mouth pressing against hers, clearly nothing else on his mind. 

Granted, you knew you had no right to feel the anger you did; after all, you were married, Carlos was a single man, free to do as he desired. Yet, your rage was fuelled by the romantic, now seemingly empty promises he had made you; how you were his everything, how he would treat you better than Charles ever did. He was no different than Charles Leclerc, and as your fumbled fingers reached to his contact, your rage felt inclined to tell him that. 

The phone rings once, twice, three times. You’re set to hang up, leave a particularly nasty text message to the man before the line connects. Immediately, your eardrums are overtaken by the loud pulse of a nightclub, some feminine laughter almost directly on top of him. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. Clearly, he’s now intoxicated, his accent is always thicker when he is. You hear another voice, telling him to hang up the phone and to come and dance with her. “Hey- are you there?”

“I’m here.” You snap; why do you feel this enraged? You must have done so when you first saw Charles with his mistress; that had become such a common occurrence that the fire in your stomach must have eventually drained. “And clearly, you’re busy with the woman climbing all over you.” 

“Fuck- you left me hanging!” He retorts, drunken mind clearly pressing against any form of sober thought. “You went back to your husband. Left me with nothing. Fuck the funeral.” He snaps, clearly now becoming enraged with the entire situation, with the fact he had been caught out. The words pressed through the speaker of your phone and emitted a wave of sobs from your stomach, immediately pressing the red button on your device.

Carlos Sainz wasn’t in love with you. He just liked the distraction. 

Of course, as fate would have it, the moment that your tears began again was the moment Charles had left the bathroom. He’s dressed in just a pair of boxers, chest bare and tone after his warm shower. The sound of the door opening caused you to turn to the source. His eyes widen, scampering towards you, cradling you in his arms, bare chest against your cheek. Silently, you sob into his body for the third time that day, wanting nothing more than for every form of pain to stop.

“Hey, come on.” He whispers, arms circling your body, pulling you tight against him. He thinks that seeing you cry will get easier each time, that the pain in the pit of his stomach won’t continue to eat him away. However, it never gets easier; he hates seeing you cry, every single time. “It’s been a long day, yeah? Let’s get some sleep, baby.”

The nickname sounds foreign on his tongue, though neither of you question it. If anything it causes more emotion to flicker through your body, the fact that your estranged husband was finally beginning to give you. Silently, he guides the two of you into the large bed, cradling you to his chest as he had done whilst in Qatar. Sleep and emotion overtake you, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder as a ‘thank you,’ before drifting into a state of slumber.

The sleep means you miss a vital update from the Twitter threads you had been closely following earlier. 

‘Carlos Sainz leaves exclusive club ALONE, despite dating rumors arising with mystery blonde.’

Carlos Sainz is your best friend.

You returned to the following day; the entire time remaining at your father’s house had consisted of nothing but tears. You had been especially concerned for your sister, watching the way she had clinged to Charles when the duo was saying their fond farewells. After a tight hug from each family member, your husband hand interlinked your fingers together, guiding the two of you to his own car, each free hand carrying along the suitcases. 

The first hour of the drive home had been quiet, the buzzing streets had morphed into greenery, the sun beginning to set across the coast. Your eyelids couldn’t find it to grow heavy, having done nothing but sob and sleep for the past twenty-four hours. Instead, your focus turned to the radio, a familiar song trickling out of the speaker, one you hadn’t heard in almost eighteen months. 

“Is this…” You ask, fingers reaching towards the dial, turning the volume up slightly. Behind his sunglasses, Charles grins. You hadn’t expected him to recognise the song, let alone be aware of where he recognised it from. 

“Our first dance.” Your husband laughs, both nodding your head to the music. One hand on the wheel, he reached out his other hand to grasp yours on his own, a gentle squeeze passing through each hand. “We’ll have to dance to it again, properly next time.” He promises to himself, eyes focused on the road as he continues to drive you both home. 

It’s almost dark by the time you have arrived back at your driveway. The stones are dipped in the darkness, the only illumination being from the headlights of Charles’ iconic vehicle. Your eyes flicker towards the doorstep, convinced the sleep is playing tricks on your mind; why on earth was there a figure standing on the doorstep to your house? They were slim, feminine, holding a cream envelope in one hand, a designer bag resting atop the other. 

The familiar feeling of who she was began to nestle in your stomach. Surely, it couldn’t have been her; even your husband would not have the audacity to invite her to the house, right after you had returned home from what was quite possibly the saddest moment of your life. It couldn’t be her, even if every sign pointed towards the truth, you’d begin to search for the tiniest detail; her hair was too short. Your stomach snaps when you realize it’s the identical haircut from the Paddock mere days ago. 

“What on earth-“ You hear your husband begin to speak, turning off the engine to the car. He looks over to your figure, but you show no emotion, no reaction on the exterior. Immediately, he has stepped out of the car, violently slamming the door behind him, causing you to snap out of the trance the woman had placed you upon. 

Your eyes fixed upon Charles, his mistress trying to reach out into his touch. She’d pressed the envelope into his hand, continuing to speak. The words were clear through the thin glass of the car’s windscreen, divorce, pictures, evidence. 

You couldn’t stick around to watch this activity play out. Immediately, you reach out for your phone, breathing uneven as you scroll through the contact list, searching for his name. Despite the last twenty-four hours, you were not too sure who else to call. It takes less than a moment for him to answer, your words rambling and falling over one another, pleading for him to come and collect you. He speaks firmly, commanding you to stay in the car, he would be there as soon as possible. 

Charles is so deep in conversation, pleading for his mistress to reconsider, that he doesn’t see you slip out of the car, stepping down the driveway into the awaiting car of Carlos Sainz. He makes no intention to show you affection when first stepping into the vehicle, his only intention to get you out of the situation as soon as possible. Whilst silence filled the space between you both, you had sent a text to your husband, confirming your disappearance. 

23:01: You

I’m so sorry, I can’t be there when she is, not anymore. I’ll be back at the house tomorrow. Thank you for everything.  

There’s no response. If you’re completely honest, you were not expecting anything else, not whilst he was engrossed in conversation. The street is quiet as you pull into Carlos’ driveway. Saying nothing, the man simply removes his keys from the ignition, before leaning over your frame to open your door, ever the gentleman. Of course, his eyes catch yours as he leans back, creating a deep gaze for oh-so-long. Carefully slipping out of his gaze, you leave the car, walking up the steps to his apartment, the door opening for your arrival. 

It's homely. Clearly lived in. Shoes are thrown across the entrance mat, coats hanging in the rack. Although it is primarily basic, a little bare, there’s touches around the complex which warm your heart; a photograph of the man with his sisters and father, a helmet you immediately recognise as Lando Norris’ resting atop of a bookshelf. There’s fine wine glasses resting atop of his coffee table; clearly ready for their usage before your untimely call. 

The details become irrelevant the moment you feel his warm arms circle around your middle; the rising of your hoodie lets his body heat radiate onto yours. Carlos doesn’t need to say anything, his face comes towards the joint between your neck and your shoulder, using his nose to brush your hair away, exposing the skin he craves to mark. 

“Mariposa.” He whispers, hiding his expression in your soft skin. “I can explain her, I can explain who she is, I didn’t-“ 

This time, it’s you who rolls around in Carlos’ touch, your arms entwining around his neck, pulling his lips to touch yours. The Spaniard does not need convincing, his grip on your waist immediately tightening, pushing your bodies closer together, if that was even humanly possible. This time, when his lips begin to trail down your neck, there’s no hesitation left in your mind, letting the man dance across your skin, leaving small bites, trails of his tongue against you. 

You realize it’s you, making a small whine as he pulls away from your body, catching his breath whilst his tanned arms reach to the bottom of his shirt, exposing his chest once more. This time, your fingers fumble to find the hem of your hoodie, pulling the clothing atop of your head, exposing the laciest bra Carlos had ever seen. There’s a grunt from the back of his mouth as he darts forward, one rough palm scooping your breast from the lingerie, his mouth immediately finding your nipple, tongue tracing across the sensitive skin whilst his stubble rubs against your exposed flesh. 

He doesn’t let up, not even when your legs go weak. His mouth remains firmly attached, using his arms to instead scoop you into his grasp, your whining sheer pornography to his ears whilst he carries you into his bedroom. 

He will simply ruin you for every other person, and god forbid if he lost you now. 

You realize hours later, somewhere between your post-orgasm haze and the combined warmth of Carlos’ hoodie and his firm arms that best friends did not have intense, body-numbing sex in the middle of the night, specifically when one of them was married, the other one a close friend of her husband. Yet, it somehow feels normal, as if this had been the longest impending explosion. Of course, you had explained to the man the reasoning for calling him out so late, for him to simply hush you, promising you would have never been a burden to him. The further questions of what is to come next are pushed to the back of your mind. 

Your sleeping state misses two key moments. The first? The slight camera shutter from a phone as Carlos places his device back on the nightstand, snuggling down into the blankets, his dream to hold you whilst he slept finally arising.

The second? Your phone finally buzzed with a response from your husband, unable to sleep without knowing you were in the large house alongside him. 

02:51: Charles Leclerc

I’m in love with you.

This is everyone who asked to be tagged! @Mac-daddy-210 @aundercover @barnestatic @omgsuperstarg @chimchimjiminie16 @caelum-the-part-time-nihilist @magicalcowboyarbiter @gaslasysblog @junetto @beatrizmel-472 @motorsp0rt @crowdthena @screemqueen @lewislvr @styles-sunflower @itspaddockprincess @adeptustemptations @amalialeclerc @meetmyblondemuffins @formulanando @lorarri @christianpulisic10 @gaypoetsblog @thisbitxhs-blog @goldsainz @ru-kru @magical-spit @hrlzy @nooshytushie @gaslysainz @marvel-at-stucky @sugarvibez

[maple-the-awesome]

The Chain Meets You, His Partner || 1/3

Part 2 || Part 3

Pairing: Warrior, Twilight, Legend x GN! Reader

Requested by @temporarilyablog: i see requests are open still so im coming to you with a thought i had recently: how about a Link from the Chain interacting with the reader, another Link's s/o from their original adventures, when *their* Link isn't around. i can see some teasing another Link with the reader that they've only known through little stories here and here, or others grilling the reader relentlessly because another Link was so shy about their relationship and partner, and wants to know how that Link is like around someone he allows himself to relax. its kinda like when the Chain met Malon for the first time and interacted with her for stories about old man Time and as always stay awesome, i love your writing!

Zelda Masterlist 💙Fandom Masterlist

Concerningly delighted or eerily eager - the Chain can't quite agree on which descriptor best described their teammate the best once he realized they had all landed in his Hyrule. Bubbling with excitement ever since while maintaining a pace some of the other boys have to jog after, Link doesn’t waste breath saying where he’s leading them, although that giddy smile upon his face - as much as he tries to hide it - is plenty for the wiser heroes to get the hint...

Taking numerous shortcuts that avoid public attention, Warrior skillfully navigates the familiar streets of Castle Town with his only pause being at the doorstep of his apparent destination. There, he takes a quick second to smooth his hair and perfect his uniform before knocking a fist against the chestnut wood.

The curious murmurs of the boys huddled behind him adds ambience to his impatient wait where his thoughts temporarily worry that perhaps you aren't awake yet, after all the sun is only just rising above the waking town, however true to your many letters which have complaint of insomnia during his absence, the door soon opens not more than a minute later to reveal your tired figure.

Even with a mess of bedhead and a robe tied lazily around yourself, you look beautiful and sacred in Warrior's eyes - an observation he isn't alone in making. Some mainly Legend had doubted that you were even real or at the very least matching to the Captain’s honey-soaked descriptions, although none can deny how well you truly hold up to that image.

You awake in a snap and leap into your lover's arms with a cry of joy; a feeling that is contagious throughout the group who watches on in silent amusement. Suddenly their friend's excitement makes plenty of sense, especially knowing how much he's missed you throughout their journey. Seriously, he's never shut up about it!

You can't rid of the smile on your face when Warrior finally takes his attention off of you long enough to introduce the others, all of whom you’ve already learned about from his letters. Without hesitation, you invite the group of worn travelers into your home while waving off any concern raised about possibly intruding at such an ungodly hour.

"Nonsense. You’re all welcome here any time. I know from personal experience how much rest can mean during a long and perilous journey.”

"My love is a captain, as well~" Warrior brags proudly, his arm wrapped snugly around your waist as you both stand aside to let the others file through into the warmth of your home.

"We know. You've only mentioned it a dozen times," Four rolls his eyes teasingly while passing by.

"So I take it you all already know about me then. Hopefully all good things?" You eye Warrior with mocked suspicion, yet he’s hardly fazed, dodging any blame by pressing a quick kiss to your cheek.

"Of course. The trick is getting him to shut up about you," Twilight says, earning a laugh. You couldn’t deny it if you tried - that sure does sound like your Link, and seeing as he does nothing to argue against the claim, instead pressing another longer kiss to your cheek, he recognizes he’s a guilty man.

The group is simply happy for the chance to finally rest their feet somewhere homely, although none complain to your offer of throwing together breakfast, even if it’s just a small one made up of some toast, eggs, and a first-come-first-serve fruit bowl. While you gather this makeshift meal, Warrior remains practically glued to your side, sneaking kisses and lingering touches whenever he can manage before you shoo him away playfully.

The heroes have all experienced their fair share of interesting and distinctive adventures, however rather than saying much about themselves, they favor asking about you, wanting to confirm if everything Warrior has said is true, after all he’s built you up to be a talented soldier who’s sword should be feared by even the fiercest of monsters. It’s not to say they doubt it based on your build and stern undertone, but it would still be nice to hear from you personally.

You admit to your reputation, however are too modest to exactly rave about your military achievements or detail your victories during war. That role is left to your boyfriend who’s unafraid to brag for your sake while tying in as many compliments as possible, both professional and of the romantical sort. As for the boys, they only interrupt with brief questions or comments, mostly related to your relationship as curiosity and thirst for mischief get the better of some of them.

“Sounds like he was smitten at first sight,” Sky smirks after hearing the story of your initial meeting, not that he could ever judge. If anything, seeing you both together warms his heart with the memory of his own lover.

“Was the feeling mutual?” Someone else asks teasingly.

For once, Warrior remains silent, glancing at you subtly in an attempt to hide his own interest towards the answer. While you certainly struck him dumb with one look, your own expression had always held a bit of resentment during those early days, your attitude strict and standards held impossibly high - higher than they were for any other subordinate.

Link never blamed you, though. If anything, it made perfect sense for you to not be his biggest fan. All of your hard work had been largely overshadowed by the discovery of Hyrule’s new hero, his simple existence being to blame for the war you then had to fight tirelessly through. You weren’t willing to give him a pass just because of his shiny title and pretty face, instead holding him to expectations you’d set for anyone destined to defeat Ganondorf. He had to earn your trust and love overtime, at least what he always assumed.

Yet to Warrior’s surprise, you become slightly bashful as you stubbornly redirect your gaze and answer, “...I admit I found him attractive - both in appearance and personality…A little too cocky, though, and not the best listener there in the start. He had to be trained out of that habit.”

Startled by this revelation, Warrior mocks offense, “You barely gave me the time of day!” 

“I was putting your ego in check,” You reply easily.

“So you were playing hard to get that whole time?”

“Oh please, you were enjoying it,” You smirk, leaning in for the challenge with your noses centimeters apart. 

For a second, it’s as if you’ve forgotten about your guests, too busy staring into each other’s eyes affectionately, that is until Legend scoffs while biting into an apple, "If our captain here was smart, he'd hurry up and put a ring on it before you finally come to your senses."

Warrior’s eyes widen into a look of horror after the Veteran's comment, yet you take it in stride, laughing as you pat your boyfriend’s chest, “There’s really no need to rush, after all, life has only recently started calming down following Ganon, and the hope is that neither of us will be going anywhere anytime soon…assuming that you boys help keep this one out of trouble during your adventure.”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” The group cheers with a chorus of amused laughter resulting from Warrior’s flustered face; a rare sight they plan to memorize.

Your smile remains even as you lift yourself to sit on the counter where you can nibble on your piece of toast, Warrior following in suit with a huff while he shamelessly pouts like a child at your side. Alas, you merely find it endearing, kissing his cheek which seems to be addicting enough to have him chasing after your lips, pecking them as he takes your free hand in his and whispers in your ear for no one else to hear, “I’ll have you know I already have a ring.”

“And I’ll have you know I’ve already found it,” You smirk, placing a finger against his lips, “Keep trying and maybe one day you’ll be able to get one step ahead of me, my dear captain.”

He huffs again before stealing a quick bite of your toast.

The boys chase Twilight blindly through what appears to be a forest no different than the many others they’ve already traveled through during their adventure, however it’s when crossing a long wooden bridge over a canyon that they begin to connect the dots as to where they really are; a point soon proven correct once reaching a small treehouse standing by its lonesome amongst a meadow.

Even Epona seems eager to arrive here, confirming this is somewhere familiar to the two. She’s pleased to busy herself by grazing outside while her rider has other plans, leading his comrades up a steep ladder and into his cozy home. He invites them to make themselves comfortable, although he’s still clearly distracted by another thought himself. 

His eyes search the house excitedly, disappointment echoing on his face when he doesn’t seem to find what he’s looking for. He looks no different than a kicked puppy, his smile drooping into a frown that he doesn’t explain. There’s no need to. As quickly as his joy had soured, it returns in a blink when the front door once again opens from behind the group.

You’re understandably startled to look up and find eight heavily armed men crowded around in your house, however your surprise doesn’t stand long. Swiftly, you’re scooped up into someone’s arms then spun with ease. It only takes you seconds to realize it’s your lover doing, having already assumed he’d be somewhere within this party of travelers seeing as his loyal mare had been there to greet you just outside.

To say you’re both delighted to see each other again would be an understatement. You’ve been impatient awaiting the day Link returns, only having so many ways to distract yourself from his absence in this small village. With that said, you have no objections to the deep kiss he steals, instead savoring it as your arms steady themselves around his neck while he still holds you off the ground against his chest. It’s a display that has some of the boys gagging in mocked disgust, although most merely smile, finding joy through that of their brother’s. After all, if he can be this happy, maybe there’s hope for all of them.

Twilight has, of course, frequently mentioned you before to the heroes, but had never gone into too much detail nor had he exactly specified the extent of your relationship. Nevertheless, the boys already assumed you to be a lover, after all, you would have to be someone special to always occupy a rent-free space in their dear rancher’s head.

Only Time, Wild, and Four knew the exact specifics because one, they had actually gone out of their way to respectfully ask, and two, Twilight trusted them enough not to relentlessly tease. Seeing how long it took Warrior to drop the dog jokes after finding out his ‘wolfie secret’, Twilight could only imagine the jester that damned captain would become if possessing any other information about his intimate life…A fear proven rational now that the cat’s officially out of the bag.

Fortunately or unfortunately - Your boyfriend has yet to decide - you seemed to instantly forget that the eight travelers are total strangers to you and insisted they all stay the night; a kind hearted offer born from good intentions, but also the perfect opportunity for the boys to plan their rancher’s downfall by mercilessly interrogating you about your relationship.

“When did you guys meet and where?”

“Did he make the first move or did you?”

“How’d he ask you out?”

“Do you ever get tired of the dog smell?”

Twilight rolls his eyes, finding himself slowly regretting this whole show-and-tell of his lover. He should’ve just slipped away from the group and snuck home to visit you. They would’ve been none the wiser seeing as he often strays as Wolfie anyway. Surely had he told Four or Wild, they would’ve covered for him. Now he’s stuck listening to this meet-and-greet with the one person who knows all the good dirt there is to be found on him. It doesn’t help that you answer every question as if it’s your sworn duty assigned by Hylia herself.

“We met in Castle Town - back when he first set out to become a hero. Poor guy was completely lost, so I took pity upon him by pointing him in the right direction.”

“He made the first move, although I’d like to think I gave him a good push.”

“Oh, that’s one of my favorite memories! He set up this beautiful little picnic at Lake Hylia. It was very romantic.”

“...Sometimes, yeah.”

“Do you have any embarrassing stories to tell about him?” Wild asks with a devilish grin, taking joy in the betrayal that cuts across Twilight’s face.

“The better question would be where to start -”

“- Alright, alright. You’ve all had your fun. Don’t overwhelm them now,” Twilight cuts into the conversation at last, moving behind you with his hands set upon your shoulder. You wouldn’t be able to see it from where you sit, but he’s sending a warning glare to the other heroes who are hardly intimated.

“Oh come on! We’re just making up for lost time since you refuse to tell us anything about this lovely beauty,” Warrior punctuates his sentence by winking your way, making it clear he knows exactly how to push his friend’s buttons.

Twilight almost growls, seconds away from kicking everyone out under the stars for the night, however with your soft hand set upon his own, you smile up at him sweetly, “They’re okay, Link. I don’t mind the questions.”

‘I do,’ he wants to object, but he’s weak against your pleading eyes. With no other choice, he’s forced to sigh and take the seat next to you. The price of this compromise is your hand which he refuses to let go of, instead keeping it rested against his lap as the group eagerly continues teasing him questioning you.

“Have you always lived together?” Sky asks, perhaps the only one here who is truly innocent with his curiosity.

“Not until recently. It took some convincing for my family.”

“What, the goats and farm smells didn’t appeal to them?” Legend snickers playfully.

“Not exactly…” You grimace.

“They’re a well known noble family from Castle Town,” For once, Twilight answers a question himself, squeezing your hand with a smile that’s really closer to a smirk, “‘don’t think they cared much for their eldest running away with some plain o’ ranch hand.”

You return the action just as smugly, “But you won them over in the end.”

“Or they were just happy to get rid of ya’.”

“Why not a little of both?” You shrug before pecking his nose which leaves him grinning like a lovesick puppy. Legend sticks his tongue out and Warrior tells you both to get a room, prompting Twilight to promptly remind him whose house they’re currently in.

The rest of the Chain laughs heartily, save for Time who has been the only hero apparently mature enough not to actively take part in poking a wolf. He has simply been listening in respectful silence with his arms crossed over his chest and a small smile of amusement upon his face. Honestly, his presence could’ve been completely forgotten if not for him finally choosing to speak up as soon as the laughter dies down, “And does he behave himself around you?”

Twilight nearly chokes on his saliva and even you blush at this question, but you don't hesitate to offer an endearing nod, “Oh, of course. Link’s a perfect gentleman. I couldn’t possibly ask for anyone better.”

This seems to satisfy Time who returns your nod proudly, his smirk evident when Twilight dares take a peek at him, although the younger man struggles to fully face anyone beyond that; he’s too busy rubbing away the embarrassment from his face. 

Taking this as a sign that he’s officially reached his limit, you dismiss any further questions while placing a comforting hand on your boyfriend’s shoulder, yet your sympathy is a poor mask placed over the clear mirth even you take in his flustered state.

Legend never bothers announcing himself upon arriving home, although that’s something you’ve come to expect from your adventurous and often absent roommate. Seeing as you don’t get many visitors, it’s safe to assume it’s either him or Ravio whenever the front door creaks open, but nevertheless, you poke your head around the corner just to be certain. Yep, it’s Link…along with a group of strange boys?

“Funny. I didn’t think you had any friends,” Is your greeting as you lean against the doorway.

“You’re one to talk,” Legend scoffs back while simply brushing past you towards his chest room, “I’m just here to grab a few things and then we’ll be on our way.”

“Ah,” You nod, already accustomed to this pattern. As common as it is for his homecomings to lack any fanfare, it’s also fairly usual for his presence here to be short-lived so long as he has his sights set on adventure. Occasionally, he’ll take the time to fill you in on what he’s exactly doing, especially if planning on staying for a meal or nap, but other times, he’s in and out that door without a word.

You don’t mind, after all it’s exactly what you knew you’d be getting yourself into when you first agreed to move in, however it seems this group of travelers Legend’s brought along with him aren’t so used to his solitary ways. They all huddle awkwardly around the door, their eyes darting across the room and at times landing on you in clear curiosity that goes unspoken for now. You take it they’re unsure as to what they should be doing while waiting for Legend.

“Make yourselves comfortable. I’m sure he’ll only be a minute or two,” Your invitation is gladly accepted by the boys who quickly fill into the room instead of remaining in their crowded bundle. A few sit on whatever stools there are available at the table, but most remain standing. 

Faced with either awkward silence or a basic conversation, you decide to introduce yourself, telling them all your name with a friendly smile, “‘not sure if Link mentioned me or not, but I live here with him. I promise I’m not just some homeless person who broke in while he was away.”

“We didn’t think you were,” One chuckles stiffly, likely taking your comment as an odd ‘joke’. If only they knew about Ravio…

“Sooo, are you Lege - Link’s…Um -”

“- Roommate? Yeah. ‘have been for the last year.”

A brunette boy raises an eyebrow, even going as far as to squint his eyes at you as if you’ll suddenly confess to being a robber or something, “Are you only ‘roommates’ or…?”

"Well, what else would we be?" You ask, cocking your head to the side innocently. The boys all stare at you in disbelief.

“It’s just - The Vet talks about you all the time. Like, all the time!”

“Does he?” Now that’s a nice thought: Legend going out of his way to tell his traveling companions about you, speaking your name as if you’re someone important to him who always occupies a section of his mind…Oh, but you doubt it’s anything like that. He’s likely only mentioned you once and they’re exaggerating.

“I don’t know if he does ‘all the time’,” The shortest of the room argues almost as if reading your mind before adding more seriously, “But he has mentioned you. Pretty fondly, I’d say.”

“With the lovey-dovey eyes and everything,” The knight of the group nudges one of his friends teasingly and they both share a laugh.

You find it contagious, “If that were true, I’d suggest you check to make sure he hasn’t gotten a concussion. ‘Lovey-dovey’? Now that doesn’t sound like my Link.”

“What doesn’t sound like me?”

A few of the boys go pale while others smirk almost as if they take pleasure in having been caught. You never even heard Legend approach, although one look to your side and you see him already standing there with crossed arms, his eyes narrowed towards his friends.

You open your mouth, prepared to brush aside his worries and assure him they haven’t been saying anything bad about him behind his back, but then the youngest boy suddenly blurts: “Have you guys ever kissed before?!”

His question earns him a sharp elbow to the side and an even quicker scolding in a whispered tone, however the damage has already been done, particularly to your face which feels rather warm now. So that’s why they all seemed so confused by the whole ‘roommate’ thing. Apparently they doubt that’s the full story…

"No! I-I mean, not really...- It's not like we're a couple or anything if that’s what you’re thinking. We're just friends who decided to live together for convenience sake, that's all!" You explain in a rush.

“I needed someone to watch my house and stuff while I was away!” Legend adds, his face as red as his own tunic. Whether that’s from embarrassment or anger, you can’t tell, although the later might be the best guess given his puffed up cheeks. 

“Exactly! And I needed a place to stay.”

“Precisely! It was a ‘kill-two-birds-with-one-stone’ type of situation.”

“Simple as that!”

The group of travelers sit in silence, their eyes switching between Legend and you. Despite the diversity amongst them, they all manage the same deadpan expression; not a single one of them believes you, but then again, you’re not here for their approval. Hell, they’re in your house - Well, Legend’s house - NOT THAT IT MATTERS! You don’t owe these people an explanation for why you happen to live with a guy you may or may not find attractive! They’re not going to get one either!

Clapping your hands together, you do your best to change the subject, “So, no one’s told me how you guys have met yet. Let’s talk about that.”

.

.

.

Legend said they’d only be staying long enough to change his items, however that was a couple hours ago. You had lots of questions about finding out every stranger in your house was actually another version of him, all brought together across different timelines and kingdoms. A whole recap and dinner later, it had gotten late with many of the boys looking visibly tired from weeks on the road.

“What’s with the face?”

You want to call Link - your Link - a hypocrite because he’s had the same stupid pout on his face ever since he lost the vote on where they’d be staying for the night. You insisted that it be here, seeing no sensible reason for them to go camp elsewhere in the cold when they could have a warm roof over their heads. He did everything he could to argue, yet nine outweigh one.

“I’m just thinking about what your friends said earlier,” You sigh, rolling onto your back where you can stare at the ceiling instead of into his eyes as he lays next you. With the living room overflowing with guests, you’ve been forced to share a bed for the night not that you haven’t occasionally done it before, “I can’t believe they thought we’re dating. We’re friends who live together. That’s not illegal, is it?”

“Hmm.”

“And before they were saying you talk about me all the time like that means you’re in love with me or something. Like, I’m a fact of your life, sure, but I’m not your life itself, you know? It would be weirder for you to completely avoid mentioning me to other people.”

“...Yeah…”

“A-And maybe - just maybe - we’ve kissed before, but no further than a peck to the cheek or forehead…Only once have our lips actually touched…” You roll back onto your side to face him, biting your lip as you whisper, “...Maybe we should start putting more distance between ourselves to avoid any more misunderstandings like this…I’m sure if those boys already think we’re dating, the whole village must think it’s true.”

“...Or we could just do the opposite…” 

“What do you mean?”

Legend curls his face further against the pillow and his folded hands, doing everything he can to avoid your eyes as he mumbles barely audible words, “Clearly everyone is going to assume we’re in a relationship anyway, so we might as well avoid the hassle of having to explaining they’re wrong each time by just making it official…”

You blink, his hinted suggestion taking a few seconds to set in, although once it does you can’t help smirking. Leaning forward, you kiss his nose, causing his cheeks to flare as he stubbornly jerks away, “How convenient! I was recently thinking about looking for a boyfriend, but so long as you’re offering, you’ve saved me the trouble of finding someone as good as you!”

Legend grumbles, however that doesn’t stop him from inching closer to you and kissing your forehead, “...Just don’t say anything to them tomorrow or else I’ll never hear the end of it.”

[httpsdana]

could u do a gavi fic with prompt 7 and 9 pleaseee? and they are just up till 5am in the morning, with the sun starting to rise and he misses training because he falls asleep..something like that? i loove ur fics (especially ur gavi ones) thank you so much!!💞💞

Midnight Cookies~Pablo Gavi

*Pictures are from Pinterest*

in honor of our golden boy coming back, heres a cute fic abt him. missed him sm 😖 enjoy <3

request from here

master list -> part 2

players/drivers I write for

7-"my favorite new pillow" "I can't breathe" "I don't care"

9-"it's 2 am, go back to sleep"

The plan was simple—Gavi had agreed to stay up all night with his girlfriend. It was something spontaneous, a silly idea after spending the whole evening watching movies together.

y/n had suggested pulling an all-nighter just for fun, like when they were kids, and he was quick to agree, excitement gleaming in his eyes.

But now, at 2 AM, with Gavi asleep beside her on the couch, she started to think maybe she should’ve known better. His head was resting on her shoulder, his body curled up against hers like she was his personal pillow. The movie playing on the TV was long forgotten, just background noise to his soft breathing. y/n , on the other hand, was still wide awake, mind buzzing with the fun of staying up past a reasonable hour.

She shifted slightly, trying not to wake him, but he stirred anyway, groggily lifting his head. His eyes blinked open, squinting at the bright screen, and then he looked at her, his voice sleepy as he mumbled, “It’s 2 am, go back to sleep.”

“I thought we were staying up all night,” she whispered back with a grin, teasing him.

He frowned, rubbing his eyes. “Yeah, but I’m tired.” He looked ready to sink back into sleep, but she tugged on his arm playfully.

“Come on, let’s bake something or watch another movie! You can’t fall asleep now, we’re only halfway through the night.”

Gavi groaned but laughed softly, clearly amused by her determination. “Fine, but only because you’re cute.” He sat up, his hand slipping into hers as he stretched. “What do you wanna bake?”

“Cookies!” she said excitedly, already getting off the couch to head to the kitchen.

“Cookies at 2 AM,” he muttered, shaking his head but following after her. “Only you would think of that.”

In the kitchen, y/n gathered the ingredients while Gavi leaned against the counter, watching her with sleepy eyes. "You should be helping," she teased, nudging him with her elbow as she measured the flour.

He smirked and walked over, slipping his arms around her waist from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“I’m supervising. It’s a very important job.” His voice was low and gravelly, making her smile.

She mixed the dough, Gavi’s arms still loosely wrapped around her. Occasionally, he'd sneak his hand forward, poking at the dough or stealing a bit to taste.

“Hey!” y/n scolded playfully, slapping his hand away.

“I’m just checking to make sure it’s good,” he said with a grin, licking the dough from his finger. “It’s perfect.”

She rolled her eyes, trying to focus as she added the chocolate chips. “If we don’t finish this, it’ll be because you ate half the ingredients.”

Gavi chuckled, placing a kiss on her cheek before letting her go. He moved around the kitchen, grabbing baking sheets and helping her scoop the dough into perfect little rounds. It was oddly domestic and comforting, the quiet intimacy of baking together in the middle of the night.

“I didn’t think you’d actually help,” she teased, glancing at him as he carefully spaced the cookies on the tray.

“I’m not that useless,” he quipped, giving her a mock-offended look.

“No, you’re not,” she agreed with a smile, leaning over to kiss him quickly on the lips.

After putting the cookies in the oven, they both sat on the counter, legs swinging as they waited for them to bake. Gavi leaned his head on her shoulder, eyes heavy with sleep again. y/n reached over to gently run her fingers through his hair, feeling him relax against her.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep yet,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

“Not asleep,” he mumbled, though his eyes were closed. “Just resting my eyes.”

y/n laughed softly and let him be. The cookies filled the kitchen with a warm, sugary smell, and she couldn’t help but feel a soft flutter of happiness in her chest. Moments like this with him were her favorite—simple, sweet, and full of love.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The morning sun streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow across the room. y/n blinked awake, feeling the weight of Gavi still resting on her. His face was nestled into the crook of her neck, his arm draped lazily across her waist, his breath soft and steady against her skin. She was warm, almost too warm, but she didn’t want to move just yet.

It wasn’t until she glanced at the clock on the wall that reality hit her. It was well past 10 am. Gavi’s training session started at 8.

“Pablito,” she whispered, nudging him gently. “Gavi, wake up.”

He grunted, shifting slightly but refusing to fully wake up. She tried again, shaking him a little harder. “Pablo, wake up. You missed training!”

That got a reaction. He groggily lifted his head, squinting at her with bleary eyes, trying to process what she was saying. "Huh?"

“You missed training,” she repeated, pointing to the clock.

His eyes widened as realization sank in. “Oh, shit!” He scrambled up, his hands flying to his head as he sat up fully, looking around in a panic. “I’m so dead, I can’t believe—”

“baby, relax!” she laughed, sitting up beside him. “Just call in sick.”

He shook his head, still in a mild state of panic. “I’m gonna be in so much trouble.”

She reached over and placed a hand on his arm, squeezing it gently. “It’s okay. You can say you weren’t feeling well.”

He groaned, covering his face with his hands for a moment before peeking at her through his fingers. “This is all your fault, you know,” he muttered, though there was no real bite in his words.

“You love it,” she teased, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

“sadly, I do,” he admitted with a sigh, wrapping his arms around her again and pulling her back into his chest.

“ my favorite new pillow.” he murmured into her neck

y/n rolled her eyes playfully but didn’t resist as he held her close. His body was warm and heavy against hers, and she could feel the soft rise and fall of his chest against her hands that were resting there.

“I can't breathe” she teased, fake gasping as if she was choking.

“I don’t care,” he muttered, his lips brushing the top of her head as his grip tightened around her waist.

y/n laughed, trying to squirm out from under him, but he only tightened his grip. “Pablo! you're crushing me.”

Finally, he loosened his hold and kissed her again, this time on the lips. His lips were soft, lingering for a few seconds before he pulled away slightly, his voice still sleepy but full of affection. “You’re not going anywhere princesa”

She smiled, running her fingers through his messy hair. “But you missed training…”

He groaned again, sitting up reluctantly. “Alright, alright. I’ll call in sick.” He grabbed his phone, but before making the call, he leaned in to kiss her one more time, longer this time, savoring the moment.

And even though he was technically in trouble, neither of them cared. Because right then, in each other’s arms, nothing else mattered.

[amirasainz]

Hi, can you do a daniel x heidi × reader where the girls come drunk from a party and danny has to take care of them at home

Wait, why is this my favourite throuple to write for currently??? This is my first time writing this ship and I love it?!?!?

Enjoy reading and send some requests

-xoxo, Babygirl 💋

No Part 2

Girls night

The evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden hue over the quiet streets of Monaco. Daniel had opted for a chill night at home, the soothing hum of the city fading in the background while his girlfriends, Heidi and YN, decided to paint the town red. The two girls had been excitedly preparing for a night out, laughter and playful banter echoing from the bathroom as they got ready.

“You know what I could really go for?” YN asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she rummaged through Heidi's makeup drawer. “A shot of tequila!”

“Tequila? It’s like you want to wake up with a hangover,” Heidi laughed, sliding on a pair of heels. “But fine, let’s go crazy tonight! Just don’t tell Daniel!”

Daniel, lounging on the couch, chuckled to himself as he overheard their conversation. He had come to expect these kinds of antics from the girls. Their infectious energy always kept him on his toes. “Have fun, ladies! Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” he called out, settling into his comfy spot.

Hours passed as Daniel lost himself in a Netflix binge, but as the clock ticked closer to midnight, he began to worry. He picked up his phone to check the time again. “Where are they?” he muttered, glancing at the door as if it would magically open to reveal the two.

He decided to text Heidi. “Hey, hope you’re having fun! Just checking in. Everything good?”

A few minutes passed, and Daniel’s heart raced with anxiety. The last thing he wanted was for anything to happen to them. Just as he was about to text again, he heard the familiar sound of keys jangling, followed by raucous laughter. The door swung open, and there stood YN and Heidi, stumbling in, their cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Surprise!” YN yelled, nearly losing her balance as she twirled around. “We’re back!”

Heidi giggled, leaning against the wall for support. “And we brought back… fun!”

Daniel shook his head with a relieved smile, though he couldn’t hide his concern. “You both look like you had a little too much fun. How many shots did you take?”

“Shots?” YN squealed, her voice an octave higher. “I lost count after six! But I could go for more! Danny, you should join us!”

“Um, I think I’ll pass. I’m more of a ‘chill at home’ guy,” he replied, trying to steer the conversation. But the girls were already lost in their own world.

Heidi suddenly flung her arms around YN from behind, resting her chin on her shoulder. “I just want to cuddle you forever,” she murmured, her words slightly slurred but filled with affection.

“Cuddle party!” YN shouted, breaking free from Heidi’s embrace. She darted towards the balcony, eyes wide with excitement. “Let’s go look at the stars! Come on, Danny!”

“YN, wait!” Daniel called out, springing to his feet. “You can’t just run outside like that!”

“Too late!” she laughed, swinging the balcony door open and stepping outside, arms raised as if embracing the night. “I’m flying! Look at me, I’m a bird!”

Daniel rushed after her, his protective instincts kicking in. “YN, come back! You’re going to fall!”

Heidi, now seated on the couch, was watching with wide eyes, tears forming. “She’s not in my arms anymore! Daniel, go get her!”

“I’m trying!” Daniel shouted back, panic rising in his chest as he stepped onto the balcony, catching YN just as she leaned dangerously over the railing. “Hey, hey! Let’s not go overboard, alright? Come on, let’s get you back inside.”

“But the stars are so pretty!” YN whined, her enthusiasm unwavering. “You just don’t understand!”

“Okay, I don’t, but I do understand that it’s past midnight, and you’re not exactly sober right now,” he said, gently but firmly guiding her back inside.

As they stepped into the living room, Heidi had already started crying. “You were gone! I thought I lost you!” she sobbed, her arms opening wide. YN, feeling the comfort of Heidi's warmth, leaped into her embrace.

“I’m right here, silly! Don’t cry!” YN giggled, snuggling into Heidi’s chest. “You’re the best cuddler ever!”

Daniel watched the scene unfold, a mix of exhaustion and amusement washing over him. “Alright, let’s get you two to bed,” he said, moving closer to them. “I think it’s time for a sleepover.”

“Sleepover!” YN cheered, the energy back in her voice. “But I wanna sleep with Heidi!”

“Okay, okay,” Daniel said, managing to get both girls into the bedroom. YN immediately crawled onto the bed, pulling Heidi down with her. “Cuddle me, Heidi! I’m cold!”

Daniel sighed, pulling the blanket up over them. “You’re going to have to settle down now, okay? It’s time for sleep,” he said, turning to leave the room.

Heidi looked up at him with a sleepy smile, her hair tousled. “Daniel, you can’t just leave me like this. I need you too!” she said, her voice softening.

“Right, but I’m kind of… tired. Plus, you two need your space,” he replied, glancing at YN, who was already starting to doze off, nestled against Heidi.

“Nope,” Heidi declared, her tone suddenly firm as she pointed toward the living room. “You need to sleep on the couch. I want to cuddle YN on my own.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow, a smile creeping onto his face. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope! My cuddles, my rules!” she said, snuggling into YN. “Now go!”

“Alright, alright, you win this round,” Daniel laughed, giving in. “But if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

As he settled down on the couch, he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. He could hear the muffled giggles of the girls through the wall. This was certainly not how he imagined his night would go, but in the end, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Just as he closed his eyes, he heard a loud crash from the bedroom. “Heidi! YN! What was that?” He shot up, ready to rush back in.

“Just a pillow fight!” YN shouted, her voice echoing through the house.

“Seriously?” Daniel called out, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Pillow fight! Come join us!” Heidi urged, laughter bubbling in her tone.

“Forget it! You two are on your own,” he yelled, flopping back onto the couch with a grin. “This is going to be one long night.”

And as he lay there, the sounds of laughter and playful bickering filled the air, he knew he wouldn’t trade this chaotic love for anything. After all, this was what life was all about: racing hearts, silly nights, and the warmth of those you loved most.

[thewritetofreespeech]

1000 Nights: Day 2 - The Morning After

WORDS: 2.1K

RATING: E

PAIRING: Gale x Tav (post game pairing)

SUMMARY: The morning after their wedding, Gale & Tav finally get the chance to bond as husband & wife do.

Ao3 * 1000 Series

----------------------------------🟣-----------------------------

A pleasant dream gives way to a more pleasant reality as the sun lifted, and with it the citizens of Waterdeep.

Gale awoke rather easily to the sun's gentle prodding, while Tav did not. He was fine to let her sleep. She'd be up soon enough. He debated about getting up to make them breakfast, as breakfast in bed seemed the perfect way to start their new life as husband & wife, but he just laid there and watched her for a bit. Enamored that this was all his now and reflecting back to that morning in the Elfsong, just before he proposed.

“Good morning.” Tav greeted him. Sleepy, yawning, but with a dreamy sort of smile that would make Gale’s knees weak if he were standing on them.

“Good morning….my wife.” Every morning, Gale would wake and say, ‘Good morning my beloved’, or some variation of the endearment. Today, however, for the first time ever, he could say ‘my wife’. And oh, how he just knew he would never get tired of saying that.

Tav’s smile broadened and she leaned into him to give him a kiss. It was lazy, slow. Like the sunlight slowly dripping in through the window. Gale knew he could spend hours kissing her like this.

He slid closer to her on the bed and felt Tav gasp into his lips when she felt him brush against her hip. “I guess someone else is up too.”

Gale smirked at her teasing and lifted the sheets playfully. Of course, he knew it was there. But seeing Tav’s naked body against the white sheets made his manhood rise with more intention than just because the sun was up. “I suppose he is.”

“You know,” his full attention returned to Tav when she gave him that coy little coo, “I’m not technically your wife just yet. Not legally. Since we haven’t consummated our marriage.”

“Oh, is that so?” His hand reached for her under the sheets. Pulling her leg up and over his hip. “Well, I am nothing if not litigious, my love. Let us rectify that immediately.”

Tav giggled just before he pulled her in for another kiss. More earnest than before but not nearly as intense as Gale knew they were going to get. All his desire from last night after the wedding came flooding back to him. Along with this almost….primal urge to claim her. He knew she had been joking, but that quip about her not being his yet needled at a possessive streak in him that he didn’t know he had. Maybe because no one had ever been truly and wholeheartedly his before.

Continuing to lay claim to her lips, Gale rolled him and Tav over so he was on top of her. Aroused at the feeling of his weight eclipsing over her; forearms and knees be damned. Her hands slid up from his sides up to his hair. Weaving into his long tresses. Holding there like a fish caught in a net. Gale moaned as he felt them against his scalp. A slight pulling here & there that was unintentional but, honestly, he wouldn’t mind if it was intentionally. He kissed her a bit longer; torn between wanting to just kiss her forever or move on to more pleasurable things. Sealing their lips with one final kiss, like the stamp of a seal on a roll of parchment, Gale moved down to kiss along Tav’s jawline and her beautiful neck. It was no wonder Astarion had gone for it that fateful night so many moons ago.

He kissed further down until he made it past her breastbone to her actual breasts. Tav arched slightly into his touch. Gale had mapped out this path for himself many times before now. They had not been chaste in their relationship before or after getting engaged, but the wizard seemed committed to learn everything anew. Take his time. Relearn all the spots, nooks, and crannies that made his beloved sing. Get to know his wife.

His tongue flecked out to brush against one already pebbled peak. Watching gooseflesh pucker up on the sensitive skin as her voice called out, “Gale” in the softest, sweetest sound he had ever heard. His left hand toyed with the other one before he switched sides and made room for his right. Gods, how did he ever get anything done around camp with these things just….around every night? How did he get anything done ever with this body parading around within his view? How had he waited so long before when now Gale couldn’t wait not 10 minutes before he had to be inside her?

He showed valiant restraint, however, in not just diving in like a sex crazed novice, and instead made his way further down to his favorite spot on her body. The cradle of life. Her jewel. Some…other manner of poetry about female anatomy. It was getting very hard to think of any with her scent and apex so close to him.

Gale pulled back from peppering kisses along her inner thigh to look at her. Outer lips glistening. Almost quivering with excitement & arousal for him. Her juices beading up like dew while its owner laid back with her eyes closed and hands twisted in the sheets, waiting for him. What manner of brute would he be to keep his lady waiting for him any longer.

With one long swipe, his tongue laved over her entrance. Tav bowing off the bed once he had reached her clit and used just the tip now to tease it. Gale never considered himself much of a musician, although he wished he was at times. He could play the notes, of course, but he couldn’t make music; hence why he let the piano play on its own. But with Tav he could pluck the sweetest sounds out of her. The music she made as he worked her open, his tongue lapping at her while his fingers slid inside to get her ready for what was to come, was better than any ballad he had ever heard prior.

“Oh Gods Gale! Don’t stop…” He had no intention of stopping. Only death could stop him, and honestly, he’s decided it would be a pretty spectacular way to go. Nestle into her cunt, surrounded by her scent, her body & legs quivering around him as she threatened to cum any moment. If Gale could choose how he died, this would be his preferred method; right after passing away peacefully in his sleep from very old age with a book and imported bottle of wine.

Soon enough Tav’s ‘threat’ became a reality and she came for him. A wordless cry and arch of her back. He continued to work her through the tremors. Drinking in her wetness. Not slipping his finger free until her inner walls stopped pulsing around him, and not pulling back until she had gone completely still under him.

Gale lifted up to admire his handiwork and was quite pleased (and aroused) to see the state of his wife. No, not his wife. Not yet anyway.

Gale shifted closer on his knees before lifting Tav’s hips and lining himself up with her sopping entrance. She reached for him as he pushed inside, still tight despite his workings on her, as they moaned together. Once fully inside, Gale just rested there for a moment. Partly for the simple, practical application of he needed to calm down; or their consummation would be over about as quickly as a blink. But also wanting to feel all of this around him and commit it to memory. They were one now. Officially. Husband and wife. Together forever. Gale thought he might weep for a moment, as he was a very emotional man, but there were more pressing matters than his tears.

“Gale…please…” Tav squirmed under him. Clearly not as satisfied to just hold his cock inside her but be properly sated by it.

Gale chuckled against her ear, then kissed it. “You never are patient are you….my wife.” Tav let out a long, loud moan at his comment. But perhaps that might have been because he slid his hips back and then thrust back into her. He liked to think it was both.

They made love like it was the first time. Only better now, because Gale didn’t feel so awkward touching her in this human body with human hands. No longer shy and seeking, but confident. Masterful, even, as Gale had made every effort since that first time to learn what she liked and put it into practice. He was an academic at heart.

Gale also made every effort to keep this going as long as possible, while Tav clamored at him with kisses and touches. “Ah…! Gale! I’m gonna cum again!”

“Not yet,” he usually doesn’t deny her anything, but he wanted them to cum together this time. Tav let out a depressed groan as he caught her lips in some version of a kiss. “…Not yet…”

Tav seemed to listen, for about two seconds at least. She then wrapped her legs around his back and pulled him closer. Gale let out his own groan as he knew that she knew what that did to him. Then she just went ahead and played downright dirty by pulling him down by his hair for another kiss, but pulling his hair in a way that sent a shiver down his spine and right to his balls. It was over very quickly after that.

They laid together in a tangle mass of limbs. Sated and satisfied. Kissing softly in just enjoyment of the moment and each other. Gale pulled back to look at his wife. Tucking back a lock of her hair to get a full view of her face. “Beautiful.”

Tav scoffed lightly at him. “You always say the sweetest things, Gale Dekarios.”

“Well, it’s easy to drip honey when one so sweet is beside you,” ooo…honey, that gave him some ideas, “Mrs. Dekarios.”

Tav’s face broke out in a grin. So sweet, so shy, so bashfully jovial that Gale had to kiss her. There was really no other option. “So, what’s the plan for today?”

“Anything you want.” Gale told her. “Although, this was my plan for the rest of the day.” Tav playfully pushed him a little, thinking he was joking. He could assure her, he was not; not entirely anyway. “We could stay here,” again, part of his plan, “or we could go see the city. Continue moving your things in.”

In the fuss of the wedding, they had almost completely neglected moving Tav’s things in. Though she didn’t have much at this point. Tragically, the hero of Baldur’s Gate was left without a home as it was destroyed by the invasion of the Elder Brain like so much of the city. Her integrity and steadfastness to save the city apparently did not extend to her own four walls. “It’s just a house” she told him. Then pack up what little they could salvage from the rubble and embers, before they left for Waterdeep. He sometimes wondered if that maybe had not been one of the reasons she accepted his proposal, both for marriage & to live in his hometown with him, so quickly. He certainly hoped it was for love.

Tav groaned dramatically and rolled away from him to lay flat on her back. “Chores? During our honeymoon?” Gale is not ashamed to admit that the smile on his face at the word ‘honeymoon’ was positively giddy. “I don’t think I want to go into town today and deal with….people. Staying here sounds tempting, but I’ll need to stretch my legs soon.” Gale held his tongue to keep back any lewd comments that came to mind about ‘stretching her legs’. He was a gentleman after all, though Tav made him feel things of a very ungentlemanly fashion. “I can’t decide. I don’t remember being this indecisive before.”

“It’s easy to be decisive when there are so few options in front of you.” Gale reasoned. “The burden of choices.”

A few seconds later, the decision was made for them as Tav’s stomach growled. Gale’s rumbling in tandem almost like a sympathetic yawn. “Why don’t we work on breakfast.” He said as he slid out of bed. “After that the day, and world, is our oyster.”

“Ooo, oysters….Ok, sounds like a plan….husband.”

Gale stopped. Like he had been struck by something. Then he pounced back into bed and back on his wife. Kissing her fiercely as she shrieked and giggled. He decided they could make plans for lunch instead.

[paulyenvol6]

Byka Atroksia (Chapter 21)

Contains: mentions of smut, angst

Wordcount: ~4.33k

Masterlist of this story

You woke up the next morning by the sun and needed a moment to remember where you were.

You smiled when you saw Daemon's body next to you, he was laying on his stomach and his hair was a mess. You decided not to get up yet and rather enjoy the beautiful morning so you closed your eyes again and let your thoughts drift away. Soon you sensed that your uncle started to wake up as well and he yawned loudly while turning on his back.

"Good morrow.", you smiled and  his eyes fluttered.

"How can you always be in such a good mood that early?"

"It's not that early.", you said and Daemon abruptly reached out to grab the back of your neck and pulled you towards him.

He kissed you and then grabbed the side of your face. You smiled and played with the loose strands of hair hanging in his face while he caressed your cheek. But soon you thought that it would be wise to get up, find some servants and see how things were at Dragonstone so you told him.

"Shouldn't we find a servant and reveal our presence?"

Your uncle hummed but nodded and you rolled off of him. The two of you left the bed, put on some clothes and then walked out of the room. Once you were outside you looked around in the corridor but there wasn't anyone. But you could hear voices and as you followed them you were led to the throne room of Dragonstone. Three maidens and two men that looked like guards stood there but shut up when Daemon and you approached. They widened their eyes but got on their knees at once.

"Prince Daemon. Princess Vhaela.", one of the men spoke and Daemon smirked smugly. "Rise."

They obeyed him and watched him tensely.

"I've come to claim Dragonstone.", he said calmly.

"B-But my Prince. We didn't expect you to arrive until… We stand under the King's command and he…"

"What did he do? What did he tell you?", Daemon said quietly and took a step towards the man.

You watched the scene anxiously and just hoped things would not escalate.

"He said that you would come to claim your ancestral seat in two days. A-And he said that you'd be… alone."

Your uncle's smile deepened. "And now I'm here 2 days early. Is that a problem?"

The guard lowered his head and his next words were almost a whisper. "B-But we need the King's command."

"I give you the command.", Daemon said sharply. "I am the King's Brother and I command you to serve me and my niece faithfully. It shouldn't matter to you who has come with me."

The guard didn't say anything but you could see the other servants exchange an uncertain look.

"Do you wish to say something?", Daemon asked sarcastically and the men and women lowered their heads. "No, my Prince."

"Good.", he smiled and then looked around in the hall. "The Princess wishes to take a bath, have someone prepare it for her. And so do I in half an hour.", he spoke calmly while examining the ceiling. "And we wish to eat."

"Yes, my Prince.", the guard answered and one of the maidens with thick, red hair stepped forward.

"May I escort the Princess Vhaela to the chambers that are traditionally taken by the Princess of Dragonstone?"

Daemon turned around to look at you and his eyes looked dark.

"No.", he said plainly. "Bring her to the Lady's chambers."

~~~~~~~~~~

The maid guided you through the halls and you had a little smile on your lips. You knew that his last words had been very clear for the servants. You were not here as his niece but as his… mistress? Maybe his paramour? You were obviously not married and you thought that the servants probably knew that but Daemon had just stated your role pretty explicitly. Even though they would have probably known anyway when they would hear you make love at night.

"What's your name?", you asked the red haired maid that now opened the door to the Lady's chambers. She was about your age, perhaps a few years older and you thought that she probably was from the North.

"Anicia.", she answered and stood in front of you, her eyes looking down to the floor.

"Where are you from, Anicia?", you asked trying to sound as friendly as possible and she carefully glanced at you.

"I'm from the Barrowlands, my Princess."

"Ah, I've been there once."

The maid smiled softly. "Really?"

"Yes, it's lovely. But sometimes it was a bit too cold for my taste. I'm only used to the warm weather in the capital."

Anicia nodded and then gestured to her surroundings. "These are the chambers for the Lady of Dragonstone. Which I assume… you are now."

The room's interior was less affectionate than the interior in your room in the keep and there was less attention to detail and yet you felt comfortable. The bed looked big and warm and you liked the view from the window.

"I'll have the other maidens prepare a bath for you, my Princess.", she said swiftly and you nodded.

"Thank you. Anicia."

~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours later you sat at the dining table on the opposite of Daemon with freshly washed hair and new clothes. You felt clean and comfortable while spooning up some vegetable soup.

"I've explored the castle a little.", Daemon spoke and crossed his legs. "I'd really like to go down into the caves soon. There are still three unclaimed dragons down there."

"But they are only legends, I thought.", you said and Daemon lifted his eyebrows.

"Possibly. But I'd like to get my own picture." You looked at your food again and couldn't surpress a little smile.

"What is it?", your uncle asked with small eyes.

"Nothing.", you quickly stated but he wouldn't let it go. "Tell me."

"No, really. It doesn't matter."

He still looked unconvinced but didn't demand you to tell him again because he changed the subject.

"How do you like your chambers? Do you feel comfortable?" You nodded and swallowed the food in your mouth.

"Yes. I like it."

"Good.", he snarled and poured himself another cup of wine. "You might not be staying there a lot at nights… But it's good that you like it.", he said quietly with a smirk playing around his lips.

You smiled as well and felt the blood rising in your cheeks. You glared at the guards and wondered if they had heard his words but deep down you knew that it didn't matter anyway. They were their servants and Daemon and you could do whatever with whomever you wanted at nights.

"Why did you never want to live on Dragonstone? You are the second born son.", you then asked because you genuinly wanted to know.

Daemon put his cup down again and looked at you. "I don't know. I always thought that perhaps if I had a wife some day I'd live there but as it hadn't happened…."

You quickly interrupted the eye contact and lowered your gaze. It was a bit of an uncomfortable topic to you because you remembered your past conversation all too well. When you had suggested a marriage, Daemon had denied you. With good reasons perhaps and yet you had felt rejected.

Your uncle sensed your discomfort. "Vhaela.", he spoke and you stared at your plate. "Jurnegon rȳ nyke." (Look at me.)

This time you obeyed and your eyes connected. "Nyke eptan aōha kepa. Naejot dīnagon ao naejot nyke." (I asked your father. To wed you to me.)

You widened your eyes. "Skoros? skori?" (What? When?)

"Tolī ziry gūrēntan nūmāzma ziry." (After he found out.)

He shrugged his shoulders. "Vestas kessa dōrī gaomagon ziry. Yn nyke gōntan sylugon. Nyke pendagon īles se sȳrje kȳvanon naejot pryjagon se quba." (He said he would never do it. But I did try. I thought it was the best plan to reduce the consequences.)

You nodded slowly. "Yn ziry gōntan daor jaelagon naejot…." (But he didn't want to…), you said quietly.

"No. He didn't."

Your heart was beating fast as you thought about your next words. You had to ask him, you just had to know.

"W-Would you… Would you have done it solely because you felt the need to or also because… you wanted t-to?"

You couldn't look in his eyes and didn't see the slight smirk on his lips.

"Mhmm.", he made, leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Would I also have done it because I wanted to? You know what I told you about marriage?"

You glared at him and a dissatisfied look appeared on your face.

"It's a political arrangement."

Your uncle's smirk intensed. "Yes. Exactly."

"Daemon.", you said with pleading eyes and he chuckled.

"There is also marriage for other reasons.", you continued. "I want to know if our marriage would've been plainly for political reasons."

He shook his head and lifted his eyebrows. "Definitely not. If my brother had decided to wed you to me, I still would have had this little cunt of yours as often as possible."

You exhaled annoyed and looked down to your food again.

"Don't pout, little one.", Daemon whispered and you refused to answer him.

Daemon didn't know why he had lied. Or why he couldn't bring himself to let the words that had formed inside of his mind leave his mouth. Because he wanted to say 'yes' and tell you that he would have taken your hand without a second thought. He would've taken you as his wife and honour and respect you in marriage. He wanted to tell you that he cared about you and to damn political arrangement. But he couldn't. Suddenly he stood up.

"Come.", he said and you looked up, still feeling sour. "Let's go outside and watch the sunset."

You thought about it for a moment but then decided not to sulk any longer. Things were too beautiful and perfect right now to waste your time being annoyed with Daemon so you stood up as well.

"Fine.", you whispered and he smirked satisfied.

~~~~~~~~~~

The two of you left the castle and you had your arms entangled. Slowly you strolled down until you found yourselves on the beach where you could see the sun moving closer to the horizon with every minute. No cloud was hiding the sky from your eyes and the soft breeze felt perfect on your skin. Daemon and you stood in the sand and looked at the magnificant sun.

"When I was young I always thought that the lands swallow up the sun when she hits the horizon.", you said while having your eyes on the fiery star.

"And what happens in the morrow?", he asked.

"The earth spills her out again. She is too hot and the earth burns himself on her so he spills her out again in hopes the sun will cool down the next day before the earth swallows her again. But the sun never does. She is always too hot."

Daemon watched the sunset with small eyes. "A queer picture.", he whispered.

"I think it's a little sad. Two gods, the sun and the earth who don't match each other. And it will go on like this forever. He hopes that she will change for the better but she doesn't. For the rest of their eternal lifetimes. But he doesn't accept her for what she is either."

Your eyes looked a little melancholical. "But at least he is determined. He doesn't give up on his dreams."

"Dreams are merely a reflection of our fears and worries.", Daemon spoke and you rolled your eyes.

"Dreams give you a purpose in life. What else does?"

"People you love.", he said quietly. "Protecting them."

You didn't answer him. You wanted to enjoy this moment because just at this moment the sun finally touched the land and you didn't even realise that you had held your breath. You watched the sun descend until there was only a little part of it visible and then it was gone and the night had started.

Suddenly you felt a hand on your cheek turning your head gently and then Daemon pressed his lips on yours. You kissed him back and this time he was soft and gentle. Almost careful as if he was scared to hurt you. Your eyes fluttered as it just felt so good being close to him. But then Daemon ended the kiss and stepped away from you. His eyes sparkled and he had a smug look on his face.

"Pretty.", he merely spoke.

You stood by the water for a few more minutes but then it got cold and Daemon sensed it when he saw the goosbumps on your arms.

"Let's go back in.", he said and you nodded.

You were walking back up to the castle and halfway there you swiftly took his hand which he commented with a chuckle.

Daemon felt light, happy and your presence gave him joy. He didn't really know how to describe his feelings for you and what exactly it was but he just knew that something had changed. Something had… shifted since he had bedded you after his return from the Stepstones. All he knew was that he needed you close to him, not far away in the north. He had to protect you, be with you and he most certainly couldn't live with seeing you wed to another man.

Daemon's hand felt warm and soft and you tightly held on to him. Your uncle by your side just gave you comfort and you knew you preferably would like to never let go of his hand. You did let go though when Daemon and you arrived in his chambers. When the two of you had stood in front of the door to your room he had looked at you and raised his eyebrow. You had smirked and shook your head and he had taken you to his chambers instead.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning you woke up in Daemon's bed, once again naked but this time your uncle was already gone. You spent a few more minutes snoozing and turning from one side to the other but then decided to get up. So you put on some clothes and felt the tension in your core after last night's wild activities. You were about to put your hair up when there was a knock on the door.

"My Princess?", a high voice said and you allowed the maid to enter.

"Yes. Come." Anicia walked in and in the reflection of the mirror you saw her balance a tea pot and a mug.

"On the Prince's order.", she said quietly and put both pots on the table. You had a strong idea what kind of tea this was and walked to the maid.

"Thank you, Anicia. Could you help me with my hair, please?", you asked and Anicia quickly stepped behind you.

"Yes of course, Princess."

~~~~~~~~~~

When you entered the dining room of Dragonstone you saw Daemon sitting on one of the chairs, a piece of parchment in his hand.

"Good morrow.", you said and sat down on his opposite.

"Vhaela.", he spoke, threw the parchment on the table in front of him and crossed his legs.

"What is this?", you asked and he scoffed.

"Word from your father."

You widened your eyes. "What did he write?"

A smirk played around your uncle's lips and he definitely didn't look like he took this seriously.

"He commands me to bring you back at once."

"Which you won't do.", you smiled but there was an odd feeling in your stomach.

In any case you didn't want to go back but it still hurt you a bit to know that you not only disobeyed your father right now but the King as well. But no, you wouldn't be scared. You would do what you wanted now and follow your heart.

"No.", Daemon exhaled loudly. "Which I won't do."

"Did he write something else?", you asked.

"He called me all kinds of ugly things and… I have to admit he's gotten really creative with it since the last time I saw him. But no, nothing else really."

You nodded and grabbed an apple from the basket. "Do you think he will send men or even go himself?"

"I don't know, little owl. If it happens we'll have to come up with a plan though."

You chuckled and unconsciously scratched at your nail beds. "Don't do that, Vhaela.", Daemon said and got off his chair to walk to you. He took your hands which made you look up to him and he kissed your head.

"Don't be scared.", he whispered. "You know that I'll protect you, mhm?"

You nodded and gripped his hands tightly.

"There's no reason to worry. I'll take care of you." Daemon's eyes looked serious because he wanted you to believe him. He cared about you, more than he was able to communicate with words. By now his bond with you went way beyond animalistic lust or the anger he felt at your father. Daemon had always had a special place for you in his heart but now that the two of you had spent so much time together these past weeks, he wasn't entirely sure anymore what it was he felt for you. He only knew that it was intense and that he wanted you to be safe and protected.

Daemon's words gave you great comfort even though you knew that he also couldn't perform magic. Sometimes to you Daemon indeed seemed almost like a godly person but he wasn't a witch and couldn't make your father change his mind all of a sudden or make an army of knights disappear. He held you to his chest for a moment and then pulled away to walk back to his chair.

"Lighten up, little one. I'll take you to the caves today."

That really improved your mood and you looked at him with big eyes. "Really?"

Your uncle smirked. "Yes. If we're lucky we're gonna have an encounter with a nice dragon."

In the Red Keep

Viserys walked up and down in his room, his finger connected with his lower lip, which he massaged relentlessly. Meanwhile Rhaenyra sat in a chair, her arms crossed in front of her chest and watched her father annoyed.

"Once again, I can't believe you let this happen."

He exhaled loudly and threw his hands in the air. "How could I have stopped this, daughter? Should I have locked Vhaela in a cell?! Is this what you're suggesting?"

Stubbornly Rhaenyra raised her chin. "Perhaps you shouldn't have been so merciful and let Daemon go to Dragonstone."

Viserys laughed out. "Daemon might have taken her with him to Essos if I exiled him and that would've been even worse."

His daughter rolled her eyes. "He wouldn't have done that."

The King was upset and shook his head. "You don't know that. Daemon is… dangerous. Unpredictable. He just proved it again."

"What are you gonna do now?", Rhaenyra asked and her father sighed deeply.

"I don't know. Send an army perhaps." He laughed in disbelief. "Send an army to free my daughter from my own brother's claws."

"I don't think Daemon kidnapped her.", she hissed and Viserys scoffed.

"I know. I don't think so either."

They remained silent for a while and Rhaenyra looked down to her fingers. Then her father pushed himself away from the table he had been leaning against and walked up and down.

"I have to talk to Ellion. I need his advice."

Rhaenyra watched him with flashing eyes. "You can also ask me, you know? I know both of them pretty well."

"I know, daughter. But this is a very sensitive diplomatic dilemma. The consequences of our actions will have an impact on the realm and how the crown's image will prevail." He looked as if he was thinking and then raised his head. "Ser Lawson. Send for the hand. At once."

"Of course your grace." With these words silence fell upon the room and Rhaenyra sighed and watched the rings on her fingers.

"Do you want me to leave? Should your heir leave while you discuss this sensitive diplomatic dilemma?"

Viserys exhaled loudly and pressed his hands on his forehead. "Rhaenyra I have enough problems already, I don't need you to cause any more."

His daughter smiled wrongly and stood up. "Of course, your grace."

The King suddenly sounded sad. "Rhaenyra."

His daughter looked at him with tired eyes and then sighed after a while, clearly deciding to give up her anger.

"Forgive me. It's been a lot." Her father nodded and then walked back and forth while she made her way out of the king's chambers.

The princess passed Ellion on her way back to her room and she could see how stressed the hand was. While heavily breathing he hasted through the corridor until he found himself in Viserys' room.

"Your Grace.", he spoke when he stood in front of him with his back facing him and the king turned around.

"Ellion. Good." The two of them sat down and Viserys folded his hands on the table.

"The whereabouts of my daughter need to be discussed. I simply do not know how to act now. I can not let my brother take my daughter away and seize Dragonstone without the King's agreement."

Ellion shook his head. "No you can't, your grace."

"It makes me appear weak in front of my enemies. I have to act. Now."

"I agree, your grace."

Viserys tapped his fingers on the table. "I should send the city watch. Or even go myself. Daemon has Caraxes, so we don't want this to escalate. They have to take the castle and bring Vhaela back to the capital."

Ellion leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. "I do not think this to be a wise idea, your grace, if I may speak freely."

Viserys watched him with small eyes. "Why?"

"This very action would make you appear weak."

Viserys shook his head and a confused smile played around his lips. "What are you speaking of, Ellion?"

"Sending the City Watch would exactly support this image of you being weak. The King, not being able to control his own baby brother to an extent where he has to send an army of trained knights to seize him. And he was also not able to guard his youngest daughter. It wouldn't look good on you, your grace."

"What are you suggesting then?"

Ellion placed his hands on the table. "Change the narrative. You are the King and you have the power to change the story. Wed your daughter to Daemon."

Viserys laughed out loudly. "What? Are you joking, Ellion?"

"I'm being serious, your grace. If you wed them you could make it appear as if all of this wasn't against the will of the crown. As if Daemon hasn't dishonoured his grace and hasn't acted without your consent. Just act like nothing has happened and there's nothing bothering you about Daemon's behaviour. Then no one can say that the King isn't tough enough on his brother. Why should he be tough on him if he isn't even mad at him?"

Viserys sank back in his chair. He exhaled loudly while rubbing his tired eyes but then put his eyes on Ellion again.

"I can not do this. Simply for Vhaela's sake."

Ellion lifted an eyebrow. "If I recall correctly this is exactly what your daughter wants. To my knowledge the Princess wasn't kidnapped from the capital but left because it was her will."

Viserys shook his head. "We don't know this for sure, Ellion. And even if we did, Vhaela is 16, she doesn't know what's good for her. Daemon most certainly is not good for her. Giving her to my brother… Gods be good, I can not do that. He is violant, evil and cruel. Vhaela is of good and kind nature. I can not do this, Ellion."

The hand nodded. "It is the King's choice. But let me plead for it one more time, your grace. Marrying them would solve a majority of our problems. The Princess' virtue would be restored, you wouldn't have to find a match for her anymore, the problem of Daemon's future whereabouts could be solved and we could let this big mess behind us without the realm's attention. Sending an army to Dragonstone… That would get the realm's eyes on this matter and perhaps even the matter of Daemon and Vhaela's sinful encounters and I do think that it would weaken your authority."

Viserys rested his forehead on his hand. "But what of my daughter? What of her future?"

"Your Grace, Daemon might be unpredictable but he is still your brother. And Vhaela's uncle. I do not believe he would deliberately try to harm her."

Viserys scoffed and then his voice got sad, almost desperate. "You have a young daughter of 17 yourself, Ellion. Elyse, is it not?" He nodded in response.

"Would you wish to see her wed to my brother?"

Ellion sighed. "Do you really demand an answer of me, your grace?"

Viserys turned away and observed the floor as if the answer to his problems was carved inside of it.

"You put me in a difficult position, Ellion.", he spoke after a while. "You sound reasonable but at the same time… ugh what you advice me is impossible."

The hand sighed. "I know this is not joyful to hear but… Perhaps his grace has to put the needs and image of the crown above his daughter for once. This is asking a lot of you, my king, but… you do understand why I have suggested it, don't you?"

Viserys chewed on his lip and then reached out to fill a cup with wine. He didn't say anything else but Ellion was wise enough to read the signs and leave Viserys with his thoughts. After a while he stood up and bowed his head.

"Your Grace"

He walked out of the room and left a desperate king and father behind.

[cry4mina]

Take Me Back to Eden - Choke Hold - (Part 1)

(Nayeon x fem!reader)

Take Me Back to Eden - Granite - Part 2

Word Count: 4.3k

Fluff/angst/Suggestive moments

Summary: You and Nayeon wake up on a cool fall morning and go about your day until...

Tw: mentions of food, cursing, breasts, vomiting, cheating (?), suggestive, mentions of sex, references to past sexual encounters, birds mentioned literally the first word (I'm not fond birds, ok?), Dahmo are present, Jihyo is here for a minute, scratch marks, bruising, kissing. If I missed anything pls let me know!

A/N: I’ve never posted any of my works before but @saiiidahyunee peer-pressured me (lovingly told me to). Inspired by a few of the fic writers on this site. Feedback always appreciated<3

—

Birds are chirping outside as the sun rises behind the clouds that litter the sky. The air is crispy, the leaves are fading into hues of orange and brown as winter approaches.

The small studio that you called home was always warm and inviting. Though it was a studio, it was quite spacious. Space for an entire living room set and a king sized bed, separated by black folding screens.

Laid in bed, gently waking up to the cool early morning air you felt an arm wrap around your chest lazily with a small sigh following. Your lips curl softly as you realize that your girlfriend, Nayeon, is still sound asleep next to you.

Her warm breath bouncing off your shoulder blades as she dreams. Your heart fills with warmth as the feeling of safety creeps into your chest. Even if you get to sleep in the same bed almost every night, your schedules are very different so moments like these make your heart sing.

You softly flip over to face her, being gentle as you move. You wanted to admire her features as you did most mornings. Light brown hair that’s tousled over the pillow and her face. Her sharp jawline, the shape of her lips and how soft they are, her cute little nose. You admire everything about this woman laying next to you.

Your chest filled with butterflies, reminiscing on all the time you had spent together. Vacations to the states, lazy days at home, cooking dinner together, staying up all night watching scary movies and eating snacks. She was who you wanted to spend all your time with. She was who you were always so ecstatic to wake up next to.

Nayeon’s arm shifted, pulling you closer so she could bury her head in your chest. It was colder than anticipated this morning so the matching pajamas you both were wearing wasn’t enough to keep the bite of fall out.

You complied quickly, scooting closer and allowing her to steal some of the warmth she was responsible for. Her nose was unexpectedly cold against your skin causing you to jump a little. Luckily, she was a semi-heavy sleeper but you were still cautious about waking her.

She was used to most of the creaks and groans around the apartment and any sound that you made but knowing how hard she works, you always wanted to make sure that she slept as peacefully as possible.

You wrapped your arms around her in an attempt to make sure she was comfortable and allowed her to nuzzle further against your chest, in hopes of giving her the same safety she gave you.

She sighed again, sensing your presence. Her body further relaxed into yours, you felt her muscles unclench and her brows unfurrow as you drifted back to sleep in each other's arms.

A few hours later, you awaken to a soft sound in the kitchen. Light humming of a familiar song, along with the brewing of a coffee pot. You take a deep breath and stretch your entire body, groaning at the stiffness.

Nayeon stops humming to see if she heard you wake up, sneaking through the kitchen back to the bedroom so she could peek through the makeshift doorway to see if you had risen from the calm sleep you were in.

Looking over and making eye contact, you can see the smile in her eyes. She runs over revealing the emotion on her face as she launches herself into the bed and onto you. “Good Morning, baby” she cooed as she placed kiss after kiss on your face. You giggled as you teasingly pushed her away, only causing more love to ooze out of her.

She leaned in once more, to attach your lips together for the first time that morning. Her arms wrapping around you like they did in her sleep, you find comfort in knowing that her love for you exists in her subconscious too. Reflecting on how she's always reaching for you and you always wake up with her wrapped around you, no matter how you fell asleep.

“Good Morning, my love’’ you replied in your sleepy voice. She laid her lips on yours one last time before she crawled off the bed again.

You pouted as she left; reaching your hands out as a sign for her to come back to you.

“I promise I’ll be back in 3 minutes with your coffee made perfectly.” Swooning at the idea of such a beautiful girl bringing you “perfectly” made coffee, you smile widely

“3 minutes, huh? I’m going to time you. You’ve got 2 minutes and 25 seconds left!” You hear her belly laugh as she walked out of the room.

Nayeon goes back to humming, but is soon singing to herself in the kitchen. You hear the clinking of mugs and the fridge opening.

The singing stops for a second, only to hear Nayeon whisper “Shit”.

You smile and chuckle from the other room. “Too much creamer again?”

“NO. I just…okay maybe there's too much creamer but i’m going to fix it. Don’t you worry. This will be the best cup of coffee you’ve ever had.”

More clinking follows and suddenly she appears with 2 cups of coffee in your favorite mugs.

“Yay!” as you reach for your black mug with the lovers tarot card on it.

“Ah ah! You’re drinking out of the white one today.” Nayeon’s usual mug. It matches your’s with the colors reversed.

Nayeon places her black mug on the small nightstand on her side of the bed and slowly hands you your white mug. You quickly take a sip and sigh, satisfied with the taste. Nayeon is staring at you with wide eyes, waiting for you to comment on how great the coffee is.

Knowing that that’s exactly what she wants, you shake your head and say “mmm…wow babe this is soooooooo sweet. i think there’s too much creamer” letting out a giggle as she smacks your shoulder, joining you in laughter.

“It’s perfect, baby. I can taste the love.” Her face lights up with that beautiful smile, cheeks flushing bright pink as she sipped her own coffee.

She smacked her lips and winced. Curiously tilting your head and smiling at her “everything okay?”

She licked her lips and nodded her head aggressively. “Yes, my love. Just…really good! I’m going to get a shower going for us. We’ve got a lot to do today.”

She leans in to lay a sweet kiss on your face as you lay back to soak in a few more minutes of the quiet morning. Nayeon leaves her coffee on the nightstand and goes into the bathroom and flicks the light on, not bothering to close the door.

Your eyes feel heavy as you lay on your back, watching the birds in the tree outside your window. The rush of water hitting the bottom of the shower startles you as you sit up again.

Another sip of the coffee polishes it off. Whipping the comforter off of you, you swing your legs over the left side of the bed, sliding your feet into your slippers. You stretch one last time before standing up.

A soft whine can be heard from the bathroom, “Hurry, it’s cold in here without you!” Nayeon shouted playfully as she slipped her pajamas off.

Quickly turning around to head towards the bathroom, you spot her coffee on the nightstand.

“I’m going to bring the mugs into the kitchen and then I’ll be there.” Reaching out to grab the lukewarm mug, you see that there’s coffee still inside. It’s lighter than she likes it. You down it quickly so it doesn’t go to waste.

Your nose scrunches when your tongue catches up to the flavor of the coffee in your girlfriend’s mug. You smile softly when you realize that her coffee is too sweet.

Coming back from the kitchen quickly, you see Nayeon about to step into the shower. You’ve seen her naked many times, it was always an experience.

Your heart would race, your eyes anxiously shifting like you weren’t supposed to stare at the art in front of you. Michelangelo himself wouldn’t be able to capture the ethereal essence that was Im Nayeon.

You allow yourself to shift your eyes over her, slowly. The curve of her thighs meeting the edges of her hips, smoothly toned stomach ascending into beautiful breasts that had some bruising from a few days ago, smoothing out again to her chest and collarbones.

You hear your heart in your ears and your adrenaline spikes. You feel your body getting warmer as you start stripping your pajamas off. You feel the slick between your thighs as you remember what transpired when those dark marks first showed up.

Your breathing gets shallower as you try to remind yourself that you’ve got a full day ahead of you. You lick your lips as she turns and steps into the shower. She smirks when she sees your eyes following her.

“Admiring your art?” She gives you the same curious tilt you gave her about the coffee, but with an entirely new meaning. You glare at her as you remove the rest of your pajamas and start to step into the shower shaking the thoughts from a moment ago.

As she stands under the shower head, she’s glancing over your body. You’re too preoccupied with fighting the shampoo bottle to even realize she’s admiring her own artwork.

Long dark scratches descending your toned shoulders onto your lower back. As you are trying to shake the last bit of shampoo out of the bottle, you feel her long finger tracing the scratch marks.

“Who’s admiring their art now?” teasingly spills out of your mouth as you get the last glob of shampoo out of the bottle. You victoriously turn to her, split the shampoo in your hand in half, and start to lather her hair.

“We can add shampoo to the list because this is the last of it.” She looks up at you with the softest eyes, swooning at you as you start lathering your own hair.

Nayeon loved the way you took care of her. From how you showered together, to how you would never let her carry anything when you went shopping together. She cherished the intimate moments.

As she finishes rinsing her hair out, she circles around you to scooch you into the droplets, allowing you to rinse the soap from your roots.

Your eyes are closed as you wash your scalp when you feel her arms slowly claim your waist. Her face presses into your neck lightly.

“Nayeonnie” you whine as she starts lightly biting where your neck meets your jaw.

“Don’t we have a lot to do today?” you teasingly point out as she groans, letting up a bit, placing her head on your shoulder as she looks up at you.

“This is so much better though. Maybe we can put it off until tomorrow?” She proposes as she traces your collar bones with her middle and ring finger.

You shutter as she trails those fingers up your neck to twirl your hair. You are weakening at the thought of what you know her long fingers are capable of.

“What if we get it done quickly? We can speed run through our day and get home early. We can even order dinner and watch a movie, if you want.”

She perks up at the thought of laying on the couch, wrapped up in each other, and watching a horrible movie with you. “Watching” a movie, was never actually watching a movie but you always went in with the intention of it. She always had other ideas.

“Fine, I suppose we can do that” She rolls her eyes with a smile as you start washing her back.

Even the boring responsibilities were fun with Nayeon. Grocery shopping, getting an oil change, or doing laundry. None of it was lackluster. In fact, you don’t think you viewed anything as a chore anymore.

Today was no different. You walk down the aisles, she’s throwing every snack you can think of into your cart. You just admire the excitement she has about everything.

Dreamly gazing at her as she throws the newest chip flavor into the pile. “Momo told me these were her new favorites so we have to try them! Oh! Speaking of Momoring, Dahyun and her want to have dinner next week, does that sound good to you?”

You snap out of the dream-like state to agree, it’s been a while since you went on a double date and it would be nice to see them again. Plus, Momo is an amazing cook and having dinner meant she was going to go all out. She does this every month or so.

Nayeon sees the members all the time but you don’t see them as often. You were closest with Momo, hanging out frequently, but had a friendship with all the members. Sometimes Nayeon would sneak you into JYP to watch their dance practice or to watch them shoot a music video. Everyone was always happy to see you.

There’s a mutual love and respect among you and Nayeon’s members. They know how much you adore her and respect that you show up for her in every way she needs, even when she doesn’t know she needs it.

They were apprehensive at first, but when Nayeon walked into the studio the morning after your first date absolutely gushing about how amazing it was, they figured you’d be around for a while. They were protective of their own, and you could understand why. Some people have bad intentions, but you weren’t one of them. You always respected what the members said and were always polite and kind towards them.

They really started to welcome you in after Nayeon got a little too drunk at the end of the tour party they threw. She couldn’t stop talking about you and started crying because she missed you. “I just can't wait to see y/n! I miss her so much. I need to -hiccup- facetime her. Or maybe I'll just call her.” Jihyo looked over at her and her face dropped as she saw how much Nayeon really cared for you.

She asked all the members if they were okay with inviting you to surprise Nayeon. Everyone agreed happily as they didn’t really know you yet, but it was obvious how important you were to their oldest member. JIhyo managed to get Nayeon’s phone away from her to call you. Imagine how surprised you were when the voice on the other end of that phone call wasn’t your loving girlfriend.

Jihyo explained what Nayeon was crying about and you couldn’t help but smile. “I wanted to give you the opportunity to surprise her…and also it would be nice to get to know you, you are obviously very important to her.”

You showed up 15 minutes later with a bouquet of her favorite flowers and in her favorite outfit. When she saw you, she screamed and ran towards you. Almost tackling you into the snow. She kissed your face all over and started crying again. You held her and comforted her. “I missed you so much baby.”

You let your lips meet hers. They were so welcoming after being apart for an extended period of time. She leaned into the kiss, using her tongue to swipe your bottom lip asking for entrance. You lighty allowed it but pulled away after a few seconds.

“We can continue this later but I think it’s time we celebrate a job well done”. Handing her the flowers you got for her and kissing her forehead.

“Congratulations on another successful tour, I’m so proud of you.” She smiled and leaned into you while you went inside.

You find yourself thinking of that memory often. Her most important people welcoming you into their family as if you had already been part of it. It brought you a great comfort to know that they accepted you in a way that you didn’t think was possible.

“What about this one?” Nayeon asked, derailing the train of thought you were just having. You glanced up to see her handing you a bag of chocolate.

“Ooooo dark chocolate this time? You’re full of surprises.” lightly tossing it into the cart.

The next few stops were relatively quick so you were home and wrapped in each other on the couch by 2:30pm. Nayeon put on some reality tv show before promptly falling asleep.

She laid between your legs with her head on your stomach with a fleece blanket pulled up to her shoulders, cradling herself in it. Her light breaths are visible on your shirt as a flicker of emotions come across her face. You wonder what she's dreaming of.

Your hand slips down to lightly play with her hair. Running it between your fingers as she jolts awake from the sudden loudness of the commercials.

Nayeon sits up immediately, throwing her hands down onto your thighs. The sudden action startles you as hands lose the soft sensation of her hair and gains the hard smack onto your thigh.

You welp at the transfer and she immediately apologizes. “Oh my gosh, baby I am so sorry.” As she gave a half suppressed laugh rubbing your thigh as if she could take away the sting.

Suddenly, your stomach growls loudly. You both pause and she looks down at your exposed stomach.

The indent of her earring still visibly red, she kisses it and says “Lets order food, I’ll buy lunch. We can order your favorite. Would you grab my wallet out of my purse, babe?”

She shifts off of you so you can get up and she opens the app on her phone scrolling to find the restaurant.

“Do you want what you always get or do you want to try something new?” she shouted from the couch as you walked to where her purse was in the bedroom.

“Same thing is fine with me!” You turn your head while you speak so she can hear you. Her bag sitting on the chair in the corner, jacket on top of it from your adventure earlier in the day.

You lift the jacket and unzip the top of the bag. Fumbling around for a second through keys, chapstick, eyeliner, a phone charger and whatever else she kept in the void she calls a bag.

You pull the light blue wallet with a rabbit on it, it was a gift you got her for your 2nd anniversary, out and reach for the zipper.

“Which card do you want?” you shout to the living room.

“The red one!” She calls back. You unzip the wallet, looking for the red card in question. There’s a semi-tattered paper folded into threes in the dead center of the wallet. You remove it and place it on the chair.

Your eyes scan down the row of cards, finding the red one and pulling it from its spot. As you reach to zip the wallet back up, you’re reminded of that paper you pulled out of it. You picked it up and read “For Nayeon” in handwriting that was unfamiliar. Curiosity got the better of you as you unwrapped the note to read the contents.

“Dear Nayeon, I’m so excited about the time we’ve spent together recently and I want you to know that I love you so much. The other night was a dream. I can’t wait to have more moments like that with you. With all the love in the world, J”

You freeze. Your chest shatters as you feel the ice cold pins and needles sweep through your body. A wave of nausea hits you as you read it over and over again. You can’t help but feel numb momentarily as your body tries to push the intense emotions out of you. Your hands begin to sweat and your throat dries out.

“Dear Nayeon,” You keep reading it. Searching for clues on who it could be from. “The other night was a dream.” Nausea hits you again. You remember the marks you left on her. Wondering who else admired your artwork. You flicker from distraught, to anger, to nauseous continuously as you realize this means someone else might have touched her the way that you have.

J? “Who the fuck is J?” You say to yourself as you fold the note back up.

Tears falling down your face while you’re trying to keep your composure. The wave of sadness passes into nausea again and then back to anger.

“I need to leave.” You sniffle to yourself. You walk back out into the living room, Nayeon looks over to smile at you only for her face to turn to immediate concern.

“Y/n, what’s wrong? Are you okay? You look pale…”

Anger painted on your face, you just stand there. Trying to figure out how to ask the questions you don’t want the answers to.

You feel the saliva collecting under your tongue and your stomach gurgles. You run into the kitchen and lean over the garbage can, releasing the bile that was the only thing present in your stomach.

Nayeon is next to you immediately, hand on your back trying to comfort you. She knows how much you hate throwing up, but who actually likes it? It always induces panic in you.

She keeps rubbing your back as your emotions flashback to anger. You’re attempting to catch your breath when you hear her speaking to you.

“Baby, what happened?” She softly inquires and you pull away quickly from her touch.

You’re repulsed at the thought of someone else touching her the way you thought only you could.

A tension builds within your chest as you choke out “How could you?”

You can see the confusion on her face as you hand her the note along with her debit card she previously asked for. You immediately turn around and grab your keys and wallet off the counter and make your way towards the door.

She opens the note quickly to read it’s contents, her eyes go completely wide as she realizes what you think is happening..

“Wait, Y/n, please stop, this isn’t what it looks like!” You hear the crack in her voice and it only allows the tears to spill from your eyes at a quicker pace.

Betrayal creeps its way into the emotion cycle that you’ve been experiencing the last 15 minutes. You’ve got your hand on the door knob, but can’t quite pull the door to leave. Anger once more flushes your veins.

“Y/n please. Hear me when I say that this isn’t what it looks like, you know that you’re the most important person in my life and I would never do anything to jeopardize what we have.”

You turn your head to look at her with blood shot eyes. Sadness’ part of the cycle takes over. You sniffle and open your mouth to yell but nothing comes out. She takes this opportunity to walk up to you and cup your cheek with her hand.

“Please don’t touch me.” you say softly while looking at the ground. Tears following your stare, hitting the carpet with a thick tap. She removes her hand from your face, she always respects your boundaries. At least, you thought she did…

“Y/N…please look at me” You can taste the despair dripping from her words but you can’t make eye contact with her. You pull the door and walk through the frame, hearing the sound of the door closing behind you as you walk down the hallway.

The sound of the door opening echoes through the halls. You know she can’t chase you because paparazzi would plaster those shots all over every tabloid in the city and she can’t risk that.

“Y/n!” She shouts. You stop for a second, only to wait for the elevator. She shouts your name again, this time laced with anxiety. You still are at a loss for words. Everything is a blur as you step into the elevator quickly and hit the button for the parking garage.

You sit in your car for an ungodly amount of time. Phone in the passenger seat next to you vibrating as Nayeon calls continuously. You ignore the rhythm of the sound next to you as you just stare into the distance. You can’t wrap your head around what’s just happened.

“It’s not what I think? Who would write someone a note like that unless there was something else going on.” You scoff.

You reach for your phone, wait for it to stop ringing, and call Momo.

“Y/n! Hey! What are you up too?” Momo answers her phone, seemingly excited to hear from you. You immediately start bawling your eyes out as you explain to her what just happened. She gasped.

“You’ve got to be kidding.” She exclaimed with audible shock.

“What’s going on?” You hear Dahyun ask in the background.

“Y/n, do you want to come here? Are you okay to drive? Do you want us to come get you?”

You clear your throat and try to compose yourself. A weak attempt, but an attempt. “I can drive.” You whisper.

“Alright, if you aren't here in 15 minutes, I’m going to come out and look for you. Be safe and we love you.” Momo states.

You note the concern in her voice and let her know you’ll be safe and there shortly. Before you can utter another word, she hangs up. Your phone goes back to constantly buzzing with text messages and phone calls from Nayeon. You turn it on “Do not disturb and drive in silence to Momo and Dahyun’s house.

Take Me Back to Eden - Granite - Part 2

[schleiereule-94]

A Bard and a Witcher – Part 2

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier x aFab!Reader

Summary: The morning after an eventful evening spent with Geralt and Jaskier you start exactly where you stopped the night before.

Warning(s): SMUT MINORS DNI, porn w/o much plot, fingering, penetrative sex (lots of it), unprotected p in v, threesome, dirty talk (both degrading and some praise, cursing), rough sex, size kink, belly bulge, oral (m receiving), she is not talking much but enjoys being used. A very slight hint of feelings.

Author’s Note: Not beta read and not an english native, so be kind if you find mistakes. Hope you enjoy!

Part 1 here

You fell asleep quickly after the two men had tucked you under the covers. Your body feeling limp and warm, you happily drifted off into dreamland. You only wake up hours later, when a sunray hits your forehead. You squint your eyes open, still feeling dozy and at first you don’t know exactly where you are. A bulky figure lays in front of you, blocking out most of the sun. Yellow eyes watch you intently. And they immediately bring back the memories from last night. You also register a body pressed into you from behind and an arm around your waist. Jaskier’s breath is deep and regular at your neck, he is still asleep. 

When the witcher realises you are awake a small smile lightens up his features. He extends his arm to put a string of hair that has fallen into your face behind your ear and rest his hand gently on your cheek. It is warm and big, extending from your jaw up to your temple. “Morning darling. How are you feeling?” he asks quietly. He is very close and even though his eyes and gestures are very soft and relaxed you are still intimidated. “I’m…, I’m great actually”. You sound sleepy and your voice is hoarse. From taking too much cock down your throat probably, your brain provides a reason. The thought makes you grin and a slight shiver of excitation runs down your body. The witcher is still looking at you. “You are very pretty” he states softly and his hand travels from your face down to your shoulders. He slowly slides down your arm, taking the blanket off your upper body and leaving behind a trace of goosebumps. You hum under his gaze and get more awake by the second. As he uncovers your bare breasts you try to cover yourself up by reflex, but he catches your hands and decisively puts them back down. “Relax”. You feel your cheeks redden a bit, but you loosen up. The witcher leans in closer, your faces just centimetres apart. You feel his breath on your skin and shudder slightly. You feel like you are laying next to a big wild wolf. He’s tranquil for now, but you know he could devour you any second. “What is your name”, he asks while interlacing his fingers in some strands of your hair. “Y/n”, you say, mouth dry and hypnotised by the yellow eyes examining your face. You feel like he sees directly into your soul. 

Geralt leans forward over your head and inhales deeply in your hair. “Mhh you smell as delicious as you taste sweet girl”. His eyes have a faint animalistic glint to them when he turns them back to you. You don’t know what to say. He looks so perfect, the sun lighting up his white hair. Mesmerized, and before you think more about it, you grab a strand and let it slide through your fingers. It feels like silk. Geralt looks amused. “I’ve never met a man like you”, you tell him without looking into his eyes. His broad chest is lightly covered in hair, adorned with his witcher medallion. You feel the urge to touch him, feel his heart beating to make sure he is real. He looks more like an angel in the morning sun, even though you are very aware that he is everything but. “They say that witchers can’t feel anything. That you don’t have emotions.” You shyly look back up into his face, looking for an answer. “Do you believe them?” he asks. You hesitate. “I don’t know.” You lean forward and rest your hand on Geralt’s hot chest feeling it rise and fall. He lets you caress him, watching your hand wander up to his collarbone and down his muscular arms. You trace a vein on his bicep. “I want to find out” you whisper. 

Geralt puts his hand under your chin, lifting you head up. For a moment you are trapped in his gaze, but you free yourself by closing the short distance and kissing his perfect lips. He tastes of wood and danger, deep and bittersweet. His teeth brush your lower lip and his tongue licks into your mouth, slowly but determined. Suddenly you don’t feel relaxed and cosy anymore, but restless and turned on. His hand comes up behind your head to hold you onto the deepening kiss. He has you breathless in no time and you moan softly into Gerald’s mouth. 

As you pull back to catch your breath, Jaskier, woken up from the stirring next to him, nuzzles his head into your neck. “Good morning sweetheart” he hums into your ear. “Can I get a good morning kiss too?”  You smile and turn your head to kiss the bards much finer lips. He tastes like wine and smoke, light and fun. You can feel his naked body pressed into your curves and his morning hard-on on your lower back. You grind your hips back into him. “Morning bard. Had sweet dreams about me?” you tease him. Jaskier chuckles. “You really want to start over where we stopped yesterday, hm”. His hand wanders from your hip where he had placed it, upwards to grab one of your boobs. “Mh so warm and cosy” he mutters. He looks over to Geralt who is still laying on his side silently watching the two of you. “Mind if I interrupt your make-out session?” Geralt makes an assertive gesture with his head. “Go ahead.” His voice has dropped, and heat is radiating from his body, you feel like bathing in it. “You look at me”, he orders you and takes your chin between two of his fingers. Naturally, you nod your head at the commanding tone.

All your senses are absorbed by Gerald’s yellow eyes and Jaskier’s talented fingers massaging and lightly twisting your sensitive nipples. You feel them hardening under his touch and start to pant, your mouth agape. The tingly feeling of arousal travels down your body and directly into your core. You feel wetness starting to pool between your legs and you wiggle your hips again into Jaskier’s cock, hot and flush against your lower back. The bard starts to move downwards, head nested at your neck, kissing and licking stripes up to your ear that make you shiver. Geralt’s eyes are fixed on the goosebumps appearing all over your skin. Jaskier pushes against your butt, and you angle your pelvis back so the head of his hot cock enters between your legs. With a light thrust Jaskier slips between your thighs that are slick from sweat and your excitation. “Mh look at you, all wet for us again” he licks at a very sensitive spot behind your ear making you shudder and your breath hitch. You close your eyes, but Gerald makes you open them again quickly. “I said, look at me” he growls, while yanking the blanket off your body completely. The cold air hits your sensitive skin and you suddenly feel very exposed. Jaskier is lazily thrusting between your thighs, holding your breasts in both hands. You can hear him panting and purring sweet praises into your ear. “Such a beautiful girl, could play with you all morning, baby.” He pinches your nipples and the pain shoots directly between your legs. You need friction, but Jaskier’s thrusts are just missing the one spot where you need it most. You clench your thighs together, which makes the bard hiss, but it is not really helping you. You look up at Gerald. “Please” you beg him. “Please what sweetheart? Do you need help?” The witcher has not moved from his sideways position from where he is studying your every move, all expressions, all your sounds. “Yes, please sir, I need to be touched”. “Where do you need to be touched, little lady?” He puts his big hot hand square on your lower belly, slowly travelling over your navel down towards the spot between your legs where the head of Jaskier’s red and swollen cock appears rhythmically. “Yes, down, please” you breath weakly. The witcher extends his long middle finger, caressing over the little curly hairs covering your vulva. He is agonizingly slow, enjoying the pained and eager expressions crossing your face. Finally, he enters between your folds, rubbing lightly over your most sensitive spot. “Here? Do you need to be touched here?” “Yes, ah yes sir” you moan between your teeth. Geralt looks deeply into your eyes as he starts drawing little circles on your clit. Your breath hitches, your chest rising and falling fast. The combination of Jaskier’s hot dick pulsating between your legs, fingers playing with your nipples and Gerald’s warm hand on your lower belly, massaging just the right spot between your clenched thighs, all under his watchful gaze, turns you on immensely. You start bucking your hips into Gerald’s hand, needing more friction, more pressure. 

“Let me have her”, Jaskier pants and grabs at your hipbone, dragging your ass backwards and changing the angle between your bodies. And with one quick thrust he is in you. The feeling of fullness is so sudden that you cry out loud. The bard pulls out almost completely just to slam back into you. Your moans mix with the slapping sound of naked bodies meeting with force. Geralt’s hand is still there on your clit, pressing down and drawing ever faster circles. The pressure on your bladder makes you feel like peeing. “I am, I am going to come” you announce just moments before your belly convulses and you clench your eyes close, seeing stars. You hear Jaskier gasp as he fucks you through your orgasm, hitting this sweet spot deep inside you with perfect accuracy. You moan and let the fire rip though you.

Two fingers on your jaw bring you back down to earth. Jaskier’s hand digs into your hips and your body is shaken every time he enters your soaked pussy. Gerald is staring at you, his own arousal now clearly visible in his face, lips tight and pupils blown. “Open your mouth” he commands and you follow obediently. With his middle finger he spreads your own juices on your lower lip before entering your mouth. “Now suck”. You do as your told, without taking your eyes away from his, seeing his gaze darken as you lick around his fingertip.

Your body is still rocked back and forth as Jaskier is chasing his own release. “Hold her still” he asks of his friend. Gerald withdraws his finger from your mouth with a plop to grip your hips in a stronghold as his friend starts pounding for good. You close your eyes and just give yourself to the feeling of being opened up again and again until you hear Jaskier start to breath irregularly and feel him twitch inside you. You try to grind your hips deeper into him, but Gerald’s grip on you makes any movement impossible. Every single one of his fingers will leave a bruise in your flesh. He is staring at your trembling breasts with heat in his eyes. Jaskier enters you one, two, three more times before he stalls, pelvis flush with your ass, and with a guttural grunt you feel his balls empty themselves. It feels so dirty and arousing at the same time, you moan loudly. After a few moments Jaskier collapses next to you, his now half-hard dick slipping out of you with an almost obscene squelching sound. You hiss from the loss as semen runs down your thigh. 

You are aware how Geralt is looking at you, his gaze burning your skin. “You like this, hm, getting fucked by this bard? Getting pounded properly?” “Yes”, you mutter, “like to be fucked by good dick.” You grin at him. “I can take some more.” “Is that right? You haven’t had enough yet?” In an instant Geralt is on top of you, weighing you down heavily and taking the air out of your lungs. You try to touch his bare chest but he pins both your hands down at your sides before licking a strip from your throat up to your ear. You can feel his huge bulge and try to buck your hips up into him. Fuck, you want him so badly. Geralt moves his mouth down to your breasts and takes one of your pesky nipples between his teeth. You cry out, the sensation almost too much. The witcher brings up a knee between your legs. His thigh presses into your mound as he grinds into you. The juices coming out of you soak through his thin clothing. “Dirty little whore hasn’t even dried up and already wants to fuck again” Geralt mutters, sending shivers down your spine. He sits up onto his knees and looks over you. The wild wolf is ready to devour you now. 

Geralt kneels between your legs, clearly enjoying the view of you squirming under him. With one of his long fingers he catches a stream of Jaskiers semen slowly dripping out of your cunt. He looks at it closely, then holds it in front of your face. “Taste”. You stick out your tongue to lick the glistening white from his finger. It tastes salty and tangy. “Good girl” the witcher growls and finally moves to undo his pants. As he shoves them down his thighs his erect member springs free, big and prodding. Precum has gathered on the tip and long veins run along it. You want to trace them with your tongue. Your mouth feels dry and your stomach flutters from anticipation. Geralt lowers himself down and very slowly drags his member through your wet folds. “Mh please, Geralt” you try to entice him. But he just lubes up his dick and sits up again. He starts pumping himself lazily with one hand while eyeing you from above. You are so turned on, your skin feels like it is set on fire and it takes all your resolve to not grab at the witcher to try to pull him down towards him.

Jaskier, who had been recovering on the other side of the bed has turned his attention to the action again. “Get behind her” the witcher says over your head in his direction. A naked Jaskier climbs behind you, his hair still moist from sweat, with a grin on his face. Your head comes to rest on his chest as he sits against the bedframe. The bard immediately takes both of your breasts into his hands. Grabbing from below he brings them up to squeeze them together. “Such fantastic tits, m’lady” he whispers into your ear and kisses your neck. You cannot respond as your mind is caught up in watching Gerlat slowly fucking into his big hand while his dick somehow grows even larger and redder. Your pussy clenches in anticipation. “Please” you try your best puppy eyes on him, “I need to feel you inside. Need to be stretched and used. I need you to use me”. Your begging seems strike a cord in the witcher. Gerald leaps down onto both of you, grips your ankles and puts them up onto his shoulders, your lower back now elevated and just Jaskier holding you in place. Geralt’s pulsating member prods at your entrance. “I will show you what a perfect toy you are, whore” the witcher growls and finally, finally enters you. He still doesn’t slam, but it’s forcible enough for you to feel an almost painful stretch. Your mind goes blank, and you only realize that you have been crying out as you gasp for air. 

You are pressed into the bards torso as Geralt truly starts pounding into you. You hear him grunting and his face has lost any semblance of being human. He more than ever looks like a wild, furious animal. He grabs one of your wrists and pushes your palm onto your lower belly. “Do you feel me filling you up? Hmm, feel how I fill you all the way to your gut” “Yes sir, I can feel you” you answer weakly. Geralt grunts and presses your hand down hard onto where your belly bulges as he slides in and out of you. You wine from the extra stimulation, your head is spinning ever faster. You feel Jaskier’s hardening cock against your backside while the witcher is over you fucking the air out of your lungs. Jaskier snakes his hand down your body and finds your clit. Your whines become ever louder as the searing heat starts building in you. You come within seconds, crying out loudly. Your stomach visibly clenches, your whole body shakes as the fire spreads from your lower belly into every corner of your being. You feel your pussy flooding and it washing over Geralts cock and drip down over your ass. Sweat makes your body glide against the one below you as you are rocked up and down by Geralts thrusts. Jaskier is desperately rutting up into you while holding you tight against his frame. You see stars and your ears are ringing when you feel first Jaskier and then Geralt finding their releases. Hot cum shoots both into and onto you. Jaskier moans into your ear and you can feel Gerald’s cock twitching inside you as he empties himself into you. The aftershock spasms in your lower belly make you moan his name for what feels like an eternity. 

Your back is wet and sticky, but you couldn’t care less. Jaskier holds you in a tight but soft embrace while your breath and heart rate are coming down to normal. Geralt has collapsed forward above you, but is holding himself up on his arms, head down and white hair spreading around your midsection. His cock is still inside you, softening slowly. Nobody moves, only heavy breathing can be heard for a while. You never want to move again.

Geralt lifts his head to look into your eyes asking a silent question. You smile weakly back at him. Yes, you are ok. In fact you are great. Just perfect. Afterglow spasms of the hardest orgasm of your life are still running through your body. You clench down onto Geralt and he glides out of you. You hiss at the sudden feeling of emptiness. Geralt cups your face and leans forward to kiss your forehead. “Well done little lady”. You heart and body are warm and a big wide, drunken smile is plastered over your face. 

Jaskier stirs below you and you slide down his right side. “I guess these bedsheets are ruined anyway” the bard states as he starts to dry his chest and belly off all the fluids that made their way between your bodies using the blanket. It takes another 5min of you colleting yourself before you sit up onto the bedside. A half-clothed Geralt helps you up on shaky legs to walk you to the fire where the men had put a pot of water to heat. They help you clean yourself with a hot towel. You smile at them. It is nice being cared for so gently. Geralt caresses your hair and cheeks. His sweet gesture at odds with the intimidating armour and sword he is putting on. “Thank you” he says finally after he made sure you were string enough to stand on your own again. “We have to leave now, heading up north. But we might come back in a few weeks.” You grasp his strong arm. “I will make sure to get word of your arrival” you say leaning your head into Geralt’s big palm. Jaskier, hugs you from behind. “We wouldn’t want to miss you!” He places a big hearty kiss on your cheek. “I might compose a song about you!” With this he lifts up the packed bags and makes his way downstairs to saddle the horses. 

Geralt still kneels before you. His thumb caresses over your lips as he gets up. He places a kiss on your hair. As he turns around to leave you hold his arm back. “You know, I think they are wrong.” Geralt turns his head with a questioning face. “I think witchers do have feelings. At least one does.” Geralt nods slowly, turns around and leaves with what you think might be a little smile.

[naeverse]

Fortis Et Liber (1/2)

A/N: Hi guys, this is my first story back from my 'hiatus', I guess I'd call it, lol. But I hope you all enjoy it, I enjoyed writing this a lot and was heavily inspired by my recent binge watching of Game of Thrones and now partaking in watching it's prequel, House of Dragons. After finishing watching GOT, I knew I had to write Miguel as a Kingsguard. I hope the story is enjoyable, and thank you once again for your patience!

👑⚔️staring: Kingsguard!Miguel x Fem!princess Reader

    🔷 Preview:  You were the future of Valoria, and he was but a Kingsguard sworn to protect you—the very duty he had accepted when he was given his cloak.

His hidden desires and thoughts for you needed to cease. 

They must…

“Let us…put our swords away, Your Grace,” Miguel stated, his voice hoarse, deep, and strained, but unable to break his gaze from yours. He waited for you to remove his sword from his neck, his body tense, heart pounding in his chest, with a silent plea to the gods to keep him from making a grave error here—far from the Kingdom and in the seclusion of this very forest.

You gulped, almost missing his suggestion. Nodding slowly, you drew his blade away from his throat, setting it on the grass nearby; but you found yourself incapable of moving from the spot atop him.

Your eyes roamed his face once more, finding the Kingsguard of age eight-and-thirty years old to be exceptionally alluring. You’d always found him attractive, often marveling that this was the man chosen to protect you until the end of your days.

Yet, despite your constant fascination, he seemed to have a new glow to him—a glow that made you meet his conflicted amber orbs, and your own eyes to flood with desire.

“I-I believe…I deserve a reward for my victory, Sir Miguel,”

💜summary:  Being the Princess of Valoria comes with expectations of being proper, respectful, caring, and, above all, perfect. However, such a title is one you detest. You seek escape to your hidden meadow in the forest to indulge in your favorite yet forbidden pastime—swordfighting—a hobby you grew to love from observing your Kingsguard, Sir Miguel O’Hara, practice in the training yard. With this adoration for the blade, nevertheless, come taboo feelings towards the one meant to safeguard and protect you until the end of his days.

Sir Miguel O’Hara, since his early days as a knight, has learned the importance of remaining dedicated to his duties and keeping his cloak unsullied. With a raging temper, brooding aura, and an undefeated reputation in combat, the Kingsguard takes his duty seriously and handles any misdeeds with an iron fist. Yet, he harbors improper feelings for his charge, you, the Princess of Valoria. Upon discovering you training once again in your secret glade in the nearby forest, Sir Miguel finds himself torn between his duty and his own desires once more.

💎tw/cw: Age Gap, Body Worship, Cockbulge, Class differences, Cunnilingus, Desperation, First time (kinda), Forbidden love, Oral Sex, Outdoors Sex, Power Difference, Virgin Y/N

🪻Pet names: Cariño (Darling), Querida (Dear), Mi Amor (my love), Alteza (Your highness), Princesa (princess) 

    💙 Rating: 18+ explicit I SMUT I

💜 Word Count: 5.8k

Heavy footsteps and the clank of metal rang through the quiet castle of Valoria, a scowl adorning the always stern Kingsguard, Miguel O’Hara. But this morning, he was angrier, more furious than usual.

Like normal, Miguel awoke at the hour of the bird, the sun just rising to kiss the peak of the tallest tower of his glorious kingdom where he began his morning routine. Waking up from his bed, stretching accompanied by a few strength exercises and combat training, a quick bath, inspection of weapons, application of his armor, and lastly, to check upon you, the Princess of Valoria, his charge until the end of his days. However, upon reaching your chambers, knocking on the door, and asking if you were awake, he didn’t hear a reply.

Miguel’s jaw clenched, his mind wandering to the possibility that your adventurous spirit had grasped you once more this morning, as he called out to you again, only to be met with silence.

A growl escaped the Kingsguard, announcing his intent to force entry before kicking the door open with his metal boot. As he feared, you weren’t there.His amber eyes narrowed upon the sight of your disheveled sheets that were missing your presence. With a huff, he spun on his heel and charged down the hall.

“Out of my way! Mudarse!” he shouted, roughly pushing servants from his path, annoyed that no one had noticed the princess’ disappearance. When his eyes made contact with the guard standing duty at the front entrance, his fury blinded him.

“You.” The word was a growl as in two long strides, Miguel grasped the collar of the man’s armor, hoisting him off the ground like a ragdoll. A surprised yelp escaped the lad as the Latino’s infamous temper engulfed him.

“The princess is missing, and here you are oblivious to it. A damn jackass could guard better than you,” Miguel gritted out, his jaw clenched harshly. The man’s stammered excuses went unnoticed as Miguel couldn’t bother himself to listen.

How could he when his sacred charge, the fucking princess, was the one missing?

With a snarl, Miguel slammed the guard’s against the pillar behind him, knocking the air out of him and instantly silencing the male. Harshly, the Kingsguard yanked the man close, his metal hands tightening on the collar of the younger lad's armor.

“I want six guards searching every nook and cranny of Valoria for the princess, or I’ll have you thrown into the dungeons for your incompetence. Is that clear!?” Miguel shouted, his anger getting the best of him as his gaze alone was enough to melt wax.

Hurriedly, the distressed guard nodded, his body shaking in fear in the eight-and-thirty-year-old man’s grasp. Miguel’s stern amber eyes glared at the trembling man for a moment longer before dropping him to the ground at his feet.

“Good,” The Latino muttered, turning on his heel, not sparing the troubled knight a glance, his blue cloak swaying behind him.

The older man hastily transverse outside of the castle, the morning sun beaming down upon his face and only stoking the hot scorching ball of rage that was rampaging inside of him. He moved down the stairs of the kingdom, his mind spinning with a tumultuous mix of emotions: fear, concern, irritation, and anger.

‘The King is going to be furious if I don’t find her,’ Miguel could only think. 

The mere image of the troubled and disappointed face of his Highness hastened the Kingsguard’s pace, his metal boots leading him to the stables of the castle where his horse resided.

Secretly, Miguel already knew where his princess had run off to. You were an adventurous woman who hated the life of royalty and the suffocating vice it seemed to have on you. The Latino knew your troubles well as you spoke of them often; but he’d prefer if you didn’t cause such an uproar in the kingdom every time you decided to play the role of daring rogue.

“You better be there, princess. I don’t know what I’ll do if you’re not,” Miguel whispered under his breath, knowing you’d surely hear a mouthful from him when he found you.

Slinging a leg over the saddle and snapping the reins, Miguel’s black stallion raced through Valoria’s gates, into the city, and beyond to hopefully find you.

In the heart of a secluded forest, the clear swish of steel and the occasional sigh of exertion could be heard, accompanying the natural melody of chirping birds and rustling leaves. In the clearing, bathed in dappled sunlight, stood you, the princess, defying all laws of royalty, titles, and societal expectations. However, this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence.

You detested the lavish life of being a princess, from dancing with suitors to kissing babes and even the simple act of donning a corset. The entire castle knew of your disdain, especially your father, the King.

Your father despised your rebelliousness, always desiring you to be what the Princess of Valoria was meant to be: kind, respectful, well-mannered, ladylike, an inspiration and hope for the people, and most importantly, perfect.

Perfection wasn’t exactly an expected trait of being the Princess of Valoria, but you figured it should be, as one slouched back, faltered smile, or ignored suitor would instantly bring scandal upon you from the court. And you were certain any scandal would ruin your father, turning him into a madman. You always believed that in his deranged state, he might do something he’d never believed himself capable of doing to you, his beloved daughter: enforcing abdication upon you—leading you to give up your royal birthright and heir to his throne to become a mere commoner in Valoria.

The idea always made you shiver in terror; but you also deemed it quite vast, hoping your father’s love for you would overcome his need to erase the soot upon his once shiny reputation if a scandal did arise.

But one would believe the fear of abdication would deter you from sword fighting— from running away from your duties to chase a dream that was truly of imagination and fairytales.

But, honestly, you could not…

Cutting arcs of silver through the air, the wind brushing through your hair, and the exhilaration you felt with each precise stroke of your sword was everything to you. Although you had been training with your sword for only two years, the weapon felt like an extension of you—taking it away would leave you hollow, dull, and lifeless.

You were sure of it…

At the age of seven and ten, you encountered sword fighting for the first time when venturing down to the training yard of the castle, your adventurous spirit leading you all the while. At the time, you were merely escaping your handmaiden, Lady Mary Jane, who was seeking to fetch you to begin your early piano lessons; so seeking refuge behind the nearby wall of the training yard would be the least likely place you’d be found.

Peeking around to check if the coast was clear, you saw a duel—a battle between Sir Miguel O’Hara, your Kingsguard, and four soldiers. What seemed initially like a serious sparring match between four exceptional guards quickly turned into a farcical display.

Your Kingsguard, a man known for his raging temper, ability to strike fear into any being—man or beast—with just a glance, and always holding a deadly red glint in his amber orbs when his longsword was in his grip, easily evaded, parried, and played the three guards like fools.

Like playthings, the three men were handled just as quickly as the battle began, ending with them in beaten heaps on the ground all without Sir Miguel moving an inch out of his initial position.

From that day onward, your protector awakened something inside of you, but you were unable to figure out what; so every day, at the hour of the bird, you watched your Kingsguard train with the guards. And after training, which was your favorite, was the dueling with Sir Miguel O’Hara.

During these matches, you became engrossed in your Kingsguard’s strategies and fighting techniques. And sllowly, you fell more in love with sword fighting and the idea of defending oneself.

But there was one memory of observing your guardian fight that was held closer to your heart than others.

Mostly because that time was different…

Sir Miguel was always known for challenging himself, pushing his very limits to ensure his capability of protecting you. You had never seen him sleep and if he did, it was only a little, as he was always glued to your side like a hornet’s nest to a branch.

At times, you found the older Kingsguard’s presence overbearing, until that night when you discovered him in  secret.

It was long past since the final birds tweeted their final messages for the night and the stars rose in the darkened sky when you heard Sir Miguel leave his rooted post outside your bedchambers. You knew your Kingsguard slept at some time of the night, but he never just…left.

Not this soon. 

It felt…odd.

Being awake due to restlessness, you decided to discover the mystery of where your Kingsguard had wandered off to. Slipping out of your bed, you adorned your royal slippers, slung a thin cardigan over your nightgown, and followed him.

It wasn’t surprising that you found him in the training yard, sword in hand and cutting invisible intricate patterns into the air; but it was how he looked that shocked you.

Taking your usual hiding spot behind the wall when spying on the guards’ training, your innocent eyes took in your shirtless Kingsguard in the yard, practicing in his mere trousers under the moonlight.

His massive muscular arms wielded his massive longsword with ease, and his pecs adorned with a pair of dark nipples seemed to tighten with his every swift and powerful jab. The large male moved in a manner similar to a dance, however, different from when he sparred with the other guards.

Despite taking in the sparring methods of your protector like you normally did, you found yourself noticing everything else. His flexing olive abs of eight, sharp jawline of stubble, concentrated gaze, deep and occasional grunts of exertion, parted lips, and the happy trail of coarse hair that descended from his perfect navel to slip under his trousers like a cunning serpent.

A shaky breath you didn’t know you were holding while admiring your Kingsguard escaped you. Your face flushed a deep red at the mere thought of how long Sir Miguel had been hiding such a sculpted form underneath his layers of armor.

You couldn’t help yourself, continuing your spying, but this time, peeking your head out further than before, needing to see more.

Your Kingsguard swung his sword again, his footsteps light yet purposeful upon the gravel. His every movement calculated in taking down his invisible opponent. Following his counter, he swiftly dodged, his dark brown hair flapping in the wind.

Every gulp caused his defined adam's apple to bob, and your Kingsguard’s slender waist twisted to evade with practiced ease. The sheen of sweat coating his muscular chest and backside shimmered under the moonlight, causing you to begin to find your Kingsguard rather attractive…

This memorable moment was a complete shock to you as you had never seen a man so…exposed before. Your father was certain to remove any paintings and stories that expressed erotic or sensual displays of any sort with the intention of keeping his royal daughter pure for any eligible suitors. So seeing him like this was as if you were taking a bite of a forbidden fruit that opened your eyes to the wonders of man and…

Sensations…

Seeing Sir Miguel in such a state, practically unclothed before you made you feel things—feelings that you hadn’t noticed but felt familiar in a way.

Perhaps, being the same sensation that engulfed your being when seeing Sir Miguel spar for the first time—his ability to fight, defend, and protect in such a powerful and courageous manner being what led you back here, each and every time to see him train again and again.

Perhaps these feelings were love like in fairytales?

Did you hold affections for Sir Miguel?

The idea felt absurd, especially with him being a member of the royal guard—meant to protect and serve Valoria until the end of his days. Indeed, love between a Kingsguard and a princess would be a grand scandal, so why did your heart palpitate at the possibility?

Why did your body heat up at the thought of the older man kissing your knuckles, not in respect for your title, but in adoration for you?

Why did your stomach stir with butterflies at the desire to know what your Kingsguard’s torso would feel like under your fingertips? His bulging arms? His chiseled face? Perhaps…

Lower?

But, it didn’t matter what you felt—what heinous and disgraceful ideas plagued your mind just from that one memorable moment.

It was forbidden.

You, the Princess of Valoria, could not fall in love with your Kingsguard.

Right…?

Since seeing him in such a manner for the first time, your respect for your Kingsguard grew. From that day forward, you greatly admired your protector and most importantly, the thrill of fighting; so instead of simply watching Valoria’s knights spar from your hiding place, you began to take notes. Engrossing yourself in the techniques of wielding a sword, and weaknesses and strengths in opponents, and how to outwit them.

After nine moons of observation, you waited until the castle was asleep and the last bell for midnight to chime before donning your commoner’s attire, to blend in with the people of Valoria, to sneak off to the local blacksmith.

You desired to purchase the creation of your sword, believing it was time to put your knowledge of sword fighting into action. After some bribing, you paid for the requested price from the blacksmith and handed in an additional gold coin pouch for speedy labor and your desired stylization list of your masterpiece of defense.

Due to this being your first sword, you wished it to be the grandest, so you wanted it to be perfect. You had thought of the blade for moons, considering how the steel would be decorated, the comfortable hilt, and how light yet balanced the sword would feel in your palm.

You wanted it to be the finest and precisely how you’d envisioned it.

The next day, you waited in anticipation, and when night fell, you traversed to the blacksmith in town once more. There, you were able to hold your sacred weapon in the palm of your hands and see it styled just as you had requested.

To ensure a firm grip, the hilt was skillfully wrapped in dark leather, with a crossguard intricately designed with floral motifs and blue gemstones that caught the light with every movement. At the end of the hilt, the pommel was shaped like a blooming rose, crafted from polished silver that was as beautiful as you had imagined.

Reaching approximately thirty inches, the blade itself was made from high-quality Damascus steel, renowned for its durability and distinctive wavy patterns along the length. The edge was razor-sharp and honed to perfection, capable of slicing through even the toughest material with ease.

Yet, your eyes lingered upon the engraving elegantly inscribed along the fuller of the blade, near the hilt. The words, written in an ancient language of Latin, resonated deeply with you: ‘Fortis et Liber,’ or ‘Strong and Free.’ This flowing script was a mantra personal to you, symbolizing your inner strength and desire for freedom from your constricting royal life.

Indeed, the blade was a masterpiece…

In that moment, holding the sword, you felt a surge of empowerment. The weapon was not merely an instrument of defense but a manifestation of your will and determination. Each detail, from the rose-shaped pommel to the shimmering Damascus patterns, spoke of the silent promise you had made to yourself: to fight for your freedom and protect yourself and those you held dear.

Just like Sir Miguel does…

From there, with sword in hand, you traversed to the forest on horseback—your desired destination just on the outskirts of Valoria that you used to run off to in your younger years before watching the guards spar. There, in the hidden clearing of your sanctuary, you began your training in secret.

Like all things, initially, you weren’t good at it, but after endless training and some assistance, you became what you are today…

Holding your sword lightly in your palm, you moved gracefully, each step and turn like a waltz that your father ensured you knew to perfection. Your blade’s soft swish through the air was like music to your ears, the whispers of steel guiding you further in your dance.

Whipping your blade through the air, your unladylike boots moved featherlight upon the grass. Your form of elegance and determination, along with your focus, never wavered, staying engrossed in your training until the rustling of bushes behind you disrupted the usual chatter of the forest and the crunch of leaves under your boot heels.

Despite the interruption, you continued practicing. A smirk adorned your lips, already knowing the identity of such a disturbance. Spinning in your morning gown, the blue hem twirling with your movement, and your unrestricted breasts underneath swaying with the motion, you turned to face the newcomer, your blade aimed at their throat. 

“Here to lecture me again, Sir Miguel?” You asked with a grin, the playful tone in your voice contrasting greatly with your raised sword.

Miguel O’Hara, your Kingsguard, who had raced here on horseback as swiftly as possible, stood before you. Miguel knew where his princess' secret training ground was, as he was the only one with the knowledge of it. He always found your desire to sword fight like some commoner conflicting, but he knew where he stood when you decided to escape your royal duties to partake in the forbidden activity.

Your protector’s height and build always made him appear massive compared to you; perhaps he truly was. His metal armor only brought more width to his being as you peered up at your Kingsguard. Despite always holding a scowl, the evident glare upon his features was simply hard not to notice.

“Scolding, perhaps.” He agreed, his voice a low rumble, pushing the blade of your sword away from his neck with a shove of two fingers. “You’re not in the castle, I found your bedchambers empty, and you’ve done all this before the morning bells of the Kingdom have rung.” He stated sharply, his anger clinging to every word. “You’ve no idea the trouble you’ve caused by vanishing like this. I’ve had the entire city turned upside down in search of you.” He scowled in irritation down at the Princess of Valoria, whom he surely knew didn’t care how much he would rip the city apart for you, as your adventurousness would never cease.

“And I not only find you in this secluded glade once more, sword in hand, but clothed—” Miguel’s eyes drifted down your body, taking in your mere sleeping gown that you didn’t bother asking the servants to undress you out of and into proper clothing before escaping here. But what really caught the older male’s eyes was your lack of a corset.

It wasn’t the first time the Kingsguard had seen his princess without a corset. It was practically something one must become acquainted with inside of the castle. You detested the constricting undergarment, choosing to not wear it even outside of your chambers, which was greatly improper but not uncommon to the Kingsguard.

Yet, every time his amber orbs caught sight of those beautiful, perky tits practically begging for one’s attention through the fabric of your dress, the Latino felt somewhat similar to a starved beast.

Clearing his throat and shifting his narrowed eyes back onto your face, he continued the scolding that he had thought of on his travels here. “—But clothed less than appropriately,” he continued, making sure your eyes were on his, his face moving with your wandering one whenever you turned your head.

“This forest is no place for a princess, much less the future of Valoria, and you are hardly dressed as one should be for combat of any sort,” Miguel lectured, searching the princess' gaze for any sign of defiance, only to find bucketfuls of it.

His attention faltered down to your distracting breasts once more before quickly looking away, heaving a sigh of exhaustion. “Your Grace, I only implore you to think of your safety. What have I incessantly told you about that?” Miguel inquired, looking down at the princess, hoping to not hear any words of rebuttal, but simply a straightforward answer.

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, lowering your sword to your side. “You’ve always told me that my safety is top priority, but you and I both know I despise being locked up in the castle, dancing and conversing with individuals that only wish to be in my place.” You retorted, sheathing your sword to your hip, the soft hiss satisfying to your ears.

“As you've stated time and time again, Your Grace,” Miguel muttered in irritation as you pressed on. “And I will not be forced to endure the torture of the corset. Women of Valoria do not wear one, why must I?”

“But you are not a mere woman of Valoria, princesa, you are Valoria!” the older man of eight-and-thirty- years shouted.

Miguel ran a hand through his dark brown curls, trying to control his temper at the sight of furrowed brows and slight jump at his sudden outburst. He had frightened many people countless times because of his temper, but never did he desire to scare his charge, you, his beloved princess. 

After taking a deep breath and recollecting himself, the Latino spoke once more. “The corset is a symbol of your station, a reminder that you are Valoria’s future. It’s not for your enjoyment—nor discomfort, but it is necessary for the protection of your person, and indeed… your honor.” Miguel stated, unable to stop himself from glancing down at your free bosom. The breeze of the clearing seemed to make your nipples more prominent—noticeable, seen.

An annoyed snarl escaped the Kingsguard, mostly in anger with himself for his insistent and dishonorable staring. “Please, simply tell me what I can do to assist? What must be changed to make things better suited for you in Valoria, because this,” he growled, pointing at the blade on your side, “this cannot be your outlet, Princesa.” He insisted with a shake of his head, his wavy curls swaying with the motion.

You always found your protector’s voice to be deep and soothing to you, but currently it was only causing the burning feeling of frustration to bubble up inside. ��Why must everything be so… constricting?!” You exclaimed in agitation.

“Why must I feel content in a garment meant to tightly squeeze me like a grape whilst damaging the very bosom it’s meant to conceal?” You asked, running your disheartened fingers through your wild hair, free from the usual royal styles of Valoria to take on a more free look—a look you adored.

You met eyes with the alluring amber orbs of your guardian, your gaze begging for acceptance. “Everything in Valoria only further distresses me—only this helps, Sir Miguel. Please, I implore you to understand that.” You tried to get him to see, a soft sigh escaping your lips. You hated arguing with your Kingsguard, as it always led to doubt.

You very much respected Sir Miguel, always finding him wise, and his dislike of your ‘hobby,’ as he called it, constantly made you believe it wasn’t right to choose it over your life in the palace, no matter how despicable it was to you.

Silence filled the space between the two of you, the chatter of animal life and the rush of the passing wind replacing the lack of words. However, to your surprise, this time it wasn’t you who broke the silence.

Miguel stepped up to you, his heavy boots crunching the soft grass underneath him as he closed the distance. His hand rested on the pommel of his sword, and his normally hardened face softened upon seeing your troubled expression.

“I’m glad to see you haven’t forgotten everything I’ve taught you, alteza.” He uttered, wishing to calm the situation. A rare smile graced Miguel's lips as he cupped your chin to lift it, wishing to meet your gaze.

When you reluctantly did, Miguel’s eyes roamed your soft features, his metal thumb giving your chin and cheek a stroke. “You are strong, Y/N, no doubt about that, but you must be wise as well.” He advised, his gruff tone a tender rumble throughout the clearing.

“Your safety and our kingdom’s security should be your utmost concern, not the… discomforts, no matter how hard they might be.” Miguel stated, his thumb lingering longer than it should upon your face, tracing the line of your jaw slowly as if trying to imprint it to memory. “You are Valoria's future, after all, princesa. I implore you to behave as such.”

You thickly gulped, his words and touch striking your heart sharply. When his hand left your cheek, the coldness of his gauntlet seemed to leave a cold handprint upon your skin, ensuring your remembrance.

Despite how crucial Miguel’s advice was, it just didn’t settle correctly in your mind, in your skin, nor your bones.

Valoria’s future.

This title was the cause of your escapes—the reason you sought refuge outside of the castle. That title was too much to bear—too much for one to hold, especially a princess like you.

Slowly, you shook your head, watching the handsome features of your Kingsguard fall. “I did not request nor ask for such a title, Sir Miguel.” You admitted. “I do not wish to live the boring life that has been planned out for me. I desire fun, freedom, and happiness—something that isn’t of attending balls nor forcing a smile at every suitor my father brings me!” You exclaimed in exasperation, heaving a sigh and turning away from him.

“I am Valoria’s future. I am Princess of Valoria, yet, I am never, simply Y/N.” You whispered, feeling like it had been forever since you had uttered your own name. “My father, the people of Valoria, and even you want perfection, someone to hope for, but that is something that I cannot give.” You confessed, grasping the hilt of your sword tightly for comfort.

“And I try, goodness, I try. I wear a smile, I try to go to gatherings, luncheons, gosh, I even try going on simple walks through Valoria just so the people may see me, and I…can’t handle the pressure.” You declared sadly. “The need to be perfect, to always smile, stand straight, speak properly—it's too much.” You said, shaking your head as your Kingsguard was so quiet, one would believe his presence behind you nonexistent.

“But this,” you said, tapping a thumb upon the rose pommel of your sword, “this doesn’t require me to be Valoria’s future. This doesn't require me to be Princess of Valoria—to be perfect. It just needs me…

Y/N…”

You acknowledged aloud, the thought making you smile. “And sword fighting isn’t structured; it can be wild and free, and that’s what I yearn for.” You concluded softly, running your finger along the ridges of the perfectly shaped flower of your sheathed sword, the action always calming you.

Miguel’s gaze roamed along your backside, your being showcasing a blend of sadness and delight that he’d never seen in any other being; but he couldn’t shake his annoyance with you.

He felt for you, his princess, he truly did. The Kingsguard always believed your duties were too much for you—too demanding on anyone who must hold such standards upon their shoulders.

But what you desired instead wasn't any better. 

It was his duty to protect you, the Princess of Valoria, and what you wanted would only get you hurt… 

Or worse.

With the clanks of his metal boots, Miguel approached you, placing his hands on your shoulders and turning you to face him once more. “You do not want sword fighting, Y/N, you want adventure—that’s what you truly seek.” The Latino told you sternly, his features returning to their usual stoicness.

“And adventure comes with a price, Your Grace. There are dangers in the world, and I won’t have you waltzing into them without a thought.” He said, his piercing eyes holding a silent plea behind them, hands caressing your shoulders under your ruffled sleeves.

“Your safety is the most precious thing I guard. I’ve seen men die from a well-placed dagger, women kidnapped into slavery, children left alone in this world without a mother nor father to protect them.” The Kingsguard stated, hands moving to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear, the idea of anything happening to you tugging greatly at his cold heart.

“The life of a commoner—the one you seek when you run off with your blade—is a harsh one, and one no being with their right wits would go seeking if they knew it well.” The older male told you in a sharp tone, wanting you to understand that his duty was to protect you, even if that meant protecting you from yourself.

Your lips trembled, your frustration and overbearing feeling of entrapment engulfing you like smoke filling a pair of lungs. “Then why teach me even a quarter of sword fighting if I am never to use the skill?” You demanded. “Tell me, Sir Miguel? Why broaden my knowledge on a skill you deem dangerous?”

Your protector’s jaw clenched, hating to see you in this way. Eyebrows knitted together, nostrils flared, fury found in your beautiful eyes. This wasn’t a look he liked upon his princess' features, always finding himself wishing to erase it as swiftly as possible.

“Your tutelage in combat is to ensure that if someone wanted to harm you, you’d have a fighting chance, not for you to run into battle with a head of iron.” He scolded, letting the gravity of his words settle. “And I would remind you, I’ve only taught you the basics, so while you’re skilled, you are not of high standard. Not like a normal guard. Not like a soldier.

Not like I.”

Your guardian emphasized, needing you to know the hard truth, hoping to ease the hurt of his words with a gentle squeeze of your shoulders. “And I advise you that it goes against my cloak to teach anything of the sword to a woman of royalty—especially, the princess,” He reminded. “If the King so happens to discover your fascination in the sword and further knows I had a hand in it, my head would be upon a spike by next sunrise,” The older male warned, his last words cutting you deep, your hand tightening upon the pommel of your sword.

“I…acknowledge the reasons and importance of my learning of the sword isn’t for entertainment, and that it is dangerous for both of us to be here, but I can't help but want more, Sir Miguel.” Youimplored, looking up to him with furrowed brows.

“You said so yourself, the adrenaline one feels from danger is exhilarating, did you not?” You asked, watching a flash of regret cross his features for a moment before disappearing as you continued. “I understand the danger of adventure, and like you, I wish to feel the same, even just a mere moment of it.” You tried to coax, the wind lapping up at your disarrayed strands of hair.

Your guardian’s lips twitched at your recollection of his own words, feeling like a fool for saying such a thing in front of you. “Adventure…does have its allure, my lady, but that thrill of danger pales in comparison to the terror of losing the one I swore to protect.” He said, pulling away from you with a final stroke to your shoulders.

You scoffed, shaking your head in defiance. “A small trip to a neighboring village to purchase mere trinkets is too much?”

“Sί, I cannot and will not risk putting you in harm’s way, my lady. You being in this meadow so far from the kingdom is already too much a risk.” Your protector replied sternly, his words bothering you further.

You couldn’t help feeling upset—upset that your skills felt like a waste. Upset that you’d never be able to use them truly, and even further upset that the man you secretly adored was the one to tell you these things.

As you stood there in silence, his scolding of the day resting heavy upon your chest like a boulder. The highlights of the lecturing on danger, scandal, trouble, entrapment, duties, and being Valoria’s future came rushing in like a tidal wave. And once more, you clung to sword fighting as your escape. Hand gripping the handle of your sword, you allowed your mind to wander.

All the memories of your secret retreats here, your discreet practices with your blade filled your head.

You knew you were an exceptional fighter, believed so anyway. You just had to get your Kingsguard to see that too.

‘One small adventure, that’s all I wish. If he witnesses my skills in person, perhaps he’d feel more comfortable joining me in just a small task.’ You pondered, meeting his gaze that was already staring back at you. Giving the rose pommel of your sheathed sword a final squeeze for good luck, you expressed your proposal.

“I do wish to express that despite your teachings of the basics, sword fighting is extensive, Sir Miguel.” You explained with a small smile, eyes tracking every feature upon the older male’s face. “One can learn uniquely and expand upon the skill on their own, and with the many times I ran off to practice…

I have no doubt that I can take you, Sir Miguel.”

A/N: I know, I know, cliffhangers are the worst, but I promise it's worth it! I hope you all enjoyed the first part of Fortis Et Liber, like mentioned previously, it was quite fun to write and I adore the two characters so very much!

If you also found this part just as delightful as l did reading and writing it, comment down below some of your favorite parts or what you liked most about it! I adore reading all of your wonderful comments!

Make sure to like, comment, reblog, and follow! If you'd like to add a request to the kink series, Entangled Desire, or have an idea in general, just message or submit an ask! Don't be nervous, your idea could be really good!

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[okieedokes]

i’ll take care of you | john egan x f! reader

summary: you take care of Bucky after a fight (will probably write a pt 2)

warnings: swearing

word count: 1,386

requests and messages are open, enjoy :))

5:00 am

It was your favourite time of day. The sun was yet to rise, the camp enveloped in silence. Wrapped in your cardigan, you traverse from your sleeping quarters to the infirmary, fingers clutching the fabric tightly. Your hands tremble, fumbling with the lock as the winds slam the door shut behind you.

Upon entering the hospital, you are shocked to see every bed empty.

You should’ve been happy; the soldiers you had grown to love over the past few weeks that you had been stationed there, were all in good health. However, the vacant beds stirred feelings of unease within you, knowing there was a mission scheduled this morning.

You tried to keep busy by pre-filling syringes with the necessary medicines while humming softly to yourself.

As you begin to settle into the familiar routine, a sudden commotion from outside the building interrupts. The sound of argument draws nearer, and you instinctively listen.

“Get your dirty fucking hands off me, Curt, I said I’m fine!”You hear one man growl, clearly resisting against the other.

“Hey, I won’t let you lead us over Germany until you get checked out.” You hear an Irish voice reply firmly.

“Yeah, fuck that!” The another retorts.

You step back from the door, as they scuffle outside, silently hoping they won't catch you eavesdropping.

You watch them struggle against the handle before collectively throwing a man to his knees before you.

As you rush to help the man to his feet, the others vanish before you can even catch a glimpse of their faces.

“Gosh, are you okay?” You ask, placing the soldier's arm around your shoulders to assist him in standing.

"I'm sorry, miss. My buddies have this sick game they like to play where they—" His voice trails off as his gaze meets yours, and in that moment, you become acutely aware of the proximity between your bodies as you stand face to face.

“It doesn’t matter, I’m Bucky.” The soldier's droopy eyelids betray his inebriation, but his striking handsomeness distracts you.

“What happened to your head?” You are used to the attempts at flirtation from lonely soldiers and have become a master at deflecting them. This instance was no different.

“I fell,” Bucky says, smirking, aware that the bruise forming underneath his brow was the mark of a fistfight.

“I see…”You reply with sarcastic deliberation.

“You have a two-centimetre laceration above your left eye; it will need stitches.” You determine, placing a hand to his temple as you examine the wound. Bucky flinches at your touch before relaxing, resting his tired head against your palm.

“C’mon, let’s get you comfortable.” You mumble, taking the soldier's hand in yours as you guide him to the nearest cot.

Usually, you wouldn't extend such tender treatment, but you couldn't help feeling sorry for Bucky, as it was clear he was in pain, not just physically.

“You never told me your name.” He winces as you tend to his wounds with a wet rag.

“It’s not like you’ll remember when you wake up.” You remark playfully.

“I have a hunch I might," he replies, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. You roll your eyes and retrieve one of your prepared syringes.

“Close your eyes; I’m gonna help you get some rest.” You hum as you administrator the morphine into his arm.

“Good night, sweetheart”, Bucky mumbles as he succumbs to the medicine.

You don’t hesitate in stitching the wound above his brow, knowing that the pilot would be needed within a few hours. As you worked, you couldn’t help but graze his features with your fingers, taking in every detail of his perfect face. You stroked his forehead and played with his hair as he slept soundly, thankful that he was the only patient who required your attention.

His soft snores were oddly comforting, akin to a gentle lullaby, prompting you to rest your head against the soldier's side before drifting off yourself.

8:07 am

You awake to the gentle shakes of your fellow attendee, presumably just starting their shift. Your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you realise you'd fallen asleep on the job. However, what truly mortifies you is the sight of the soldier's empty bed. You cringe at the thought that he might have seen you in such a state.

“You best get organised, dear; I think it will be a busy day.” Your fellow nurse warns, gesturing to the sounds of explosives erupting from above.

“Yes, ma’am.” You answer before rushing to your station.

The day goes by as predicted. Soldiers were carried in by the dozen, all in various stages of injury. You barely have time to think as you rush between patients, attending to everything from scrapes to bullet wounds. Amid the chaos, your thoughts drift back to the pilot from that morning.

Was his mission successful? Or could it have gone even worse than imagined? The thought makes your stomach churn.

As the unsettling notion sinks in, you busy yourself by tending to a patient's wound, though your hands betray your nerves with a noticeable shake.

“You okay there?” The man you’re attending to questions.

“Yes sir…I just…have you heard any news on Bucky?” You spill, not been able to contain your worries any longer.

“Oh, that son of a bitch? I got hit pretty early, so I don’t remember much, but he’s one of the best we got, I’m sure he’s already back, pouring himself a whisky.” The man chuckled, your concern seemingly lost on him.

"Thank you, sir." With a nod, you step away to treat another patient, but the worries linger in your thoughts.

Before you knew it, the infirmary was quiet again, and you were relieved of your duties. As you journey back to your quarters, you start to wonder if the whole interaction was a dream conjured by your loneliness.

That is, until a hand grasps your shoulder. You turn to face Bucky. The cut above his eye was healing well, and you felt relieved that last night's encounter was, in fact not a delusion.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you everywhere; they wouldn’t let me go in.” He pants, gesturing to the hospital.

"Ah, yeah, it's been quite busy," you mumble, suddenly nervous as you stand before the Major’s imposing figure.

"Hey, about last night, I wanted to apologise. You shouldn't have had to deal with that," he says, his eyes cast down, clearly ashamed.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry I couldn't be of more help in the morning…” You watch as a grin graces his lips.

“Oh yes, I woke, and your head was resting against me. It was very sweet.” He recounts, and your cheeks burn red.

"I meant to say goodbye, but I didn't want to disturb the sleeping beauty," he adds with a sheepish smile, eliciting an embarrassed giggle from you.

“Anyways, I came to ask your name and if you would join me for a drink?” He offers.

His enticing grin makes the offer hard to resist. However, you're mindful of the expectations regarding sharing drinks with a soldier, choosing to maintain your distance to avoid potential heartbreak.

“I’m sorry Major, but I’m not one for mixing work and play.” You reply, avoiding his gaze.

“If you think my intentions are unhonourable, I promise you I just want to get to know the kind girl who looked after me this morning.” He teases lightly, yet his eyes convey sincerity, filling you with a warm, comforting sensation.

“If you’re not a drinker, can I at least accompany you on a walk?” He adds, extending an arm for you to grasp.

"Why not," you concede, intertwining both your arms with his as he leads you down the path.

"So, tell me about yourself, Y/N," Bucky begins, and you freeze at the sound of your name, which you had never disclosed to the Major.

"How did you get my name?" You ask, astonished.

"Well, I asked around the cockpit this morning. Turns out you have more admirers than just me," The pilot admits.

Your heart sinks at the realisation that among the many pilots you've conversed with, Bucky was the only one who ignited sentiments within you.

This boy already had you under his spell.

[pinkthrone445]

~You can´t change who you are~ Part 1

Part 2

Pairing:Brienne of tarth x Reader

Gender: hurt, hurt very well written

Warnlings : (+18) Alcohol, insults, mention of sex and nudity, mention of sex worker, very mean and hurtful comments.

Summary:Brienne and you have to remember that difrent words doesnt mix. Brienne was Lord Commander and you were just a whore, as much as you would like to be something more, the world reminds you that the past cannot be changed and classes do not mix.

Enjoy! And don't forget to reblog! 💕

Special thanks to everyone who read the previous story and shared it! You have a special place in my stomach, I would say heart but I don't have one of those.

Brienne sighed without opening her eyes yet, as soon as the sun was rising on the horizon, it was a sign that she had to return to reality. The events of the previous night had left her body completely relaxed, making it harder to open her eyes, wishing that that peace would last a little longer. Hearing your soft laughter fill the room, she opened her eyes, smiling as she watched you play with her sword in front of the mirror, completely naked and with your body full of fresh marks that she had made only a couple of hours ago

-"Maybe you'd be scary if the sword wasn't bigger than you" - she said in a mocking tone and with her voice hoarse from just waking up. You laughed and put the sword in its proper place to go back to bed with her, lying on her chest snuggling up to take advantage of her body warmth

-"I don't need a sword to make people listen and obey, I have other tactics" - you replied giving small kisses on her chest and Brienne smiled caressing your back

-"The same tactics you used last night to get what you wanted? To make me fuck you senseless?" - she asked and you nodded smiling and kissing her jaw. You loved Brienne's scent after a night of passion, it was intoxicating, you delicately hid in her neck giving little kisses and snuggling up there. -"Aren't you getting too comfortable for a whore?"-She asked laughing as she felt how you hugged her around the waist, you always did that when you knew it was time for the two of you to start the day but you didn't want to leave her side

-"Aren't you very foul-mouthed for a lord commander?" - You responded by letting out a small laugh and bit her neck causing Brienne to shiver. The blonde's comment didn't bother you because she was right, you were a whore, you had been for many years, it was your way of surviving, it's how you and Brienne met, in the brothel.

One night, the warriors under her command took her to the brothel because she was very tense and thought it would be a good idea for her to let out some anger in any other way than by fighting. The knights decided to hire your services, knowing that of all the women who worked there, you were the most delicate and soft, the most seductive, the one who looked the most innocent. You didn't take just any client, you were more selective than others and less scandalous, if it wasn't for the fact that the owner of the brothel offered your services, you might as well have passed for someone else who went there to enjoy, it didn't seem like you worked there, mostly because your clothes were less outrageous and more conservative and you didn't undress in front of others like all the other women in the place. You were perfect for someone who was going there for the first time and required more delicate service, you were perfect for Brienne, in more ways than one.

The blonde was embarrassed, there were so many naked people that she didn't know where to look, it was a relief when, after introducing you, you took her to a more secluded place where curtains isolated you from other people, although noises could be heard, not having to see so many naked bodies, was already a relief for her. Brienne didn't know how to start the conversation or what to do, but you just waited patiently for her, explained that you wouldn't do anything she didn't want to do and that if she just wanted to talk or sit still, you could do it, whatever she wanted, you would do it for her. That night, all you did was talk about a little bit of everything, tastes, stories, anecdotes, everything and nothing at the same time. Brienne felt at peace in the least expected place with the least expected person.

Weeks passed and you were surprised when you saw her enter the brothel again, asking specifically for you. That night you also talked and drank a little, nothing else. So it was on several occasions, just enjoying each other's company, letting the moment flow. It wasn't until she hired your private services to come to her house that you finally had sex. Despite her nervousness, the woman felt very comfortable with you, you had incredible patience, you explained many things to her and taught her many more. She never thought she would be able to feel so much pleasure and make someone else feel so much pleasure. Brienne was intoxicated, hymnotized by you, so she began to hire your services regularly. Everyone knew that if she showed up at the brothel, it was just to look for you, she never looked at or touched anyone else. And for your part, you didn't have any other clients either, since she hired you almost all the available time you had.

Months passed since you and Brienne had met, with so much time together, it was hard not to feel things for her beyond pleasure, there were times when she only hired you to eat together at home, relaxing by the fireplace while sipping a good wine or just to talk about the day to day and what tormented her head sometimes. If it wasn't for Brienne refusing to stop paying you, which you asked her to stop doing by saying that you enjoyed being with her and didn't care about money anymore, you would have felt like it was a relationship, one with amazing sex involved. But she wouldn't let you forget that it was only a matter of pleasure, even if she repeated it many times, that didn't stop your heart from feeling and wanting more for her, that didn't stop you from falling in love with her.

For her part, Brienne also had feelings for you but she didn't want to condemn you to a life of misery with a knight, at any moment she could lose her life and she didn't want you to wait for her to return forever, she would never forgive herself for causing you that pain. She also knew that if you started a formal relationship, your life would be in danger, everyone would know that you are their greatest weakness and they would hurt you to manipulate her. That's why she kept repeating that this "relationship" was just for pleasure and nothing more, praying that if she repeated it enough, she would believe it too.

That's how you got to the present moment, you spent more time with her than alone, you spent more time at her house than in the brothel, you even had more clothes there than in your rooms. Every time you were with her you wanted to make the most of it, etching in every part of your memory those special moments where it was just you and her, before you had to go back to the reality where you were just a whore and she was the lord commander.

-"Come on baby, up, I have to go train the new soldiers" - commented the woman below you, patting your ass lightly but you shook your head hiding more in her neck

-"A little while longer, it's still early, I don't want to let you go yet"- you whispered against her neck pouting a little and she laughed

-"I'd like to stay too, but I don't have much time, how about I make breakfast here at home and we have it together? - the blonde commented and you raised your head nodding excitedly to which she laughed hugging your waist - "put on some clothes while I prepare everything"- you nodded and put on the shirt that Brienne was wearing the night before and then went down to breakfast with her. You loved those little moments, everything felt so natural and special, you could pretend you were a couple even though that was far from reality.

Even if Brienne didn't want it, every time she went campaigning or fighting, you'd be left with your heart in your mouth begging all the gods, the old and the new, for her to come back safely. Feeling your heart beat again when you saw her come back home.

After a hard fight, Brienne realized that the restrictions she had been putting were in vain, all she wanted was to come home to see you and be with you. From that fight she decided to make things right in the relationship, to turn it into a true and stable relationship. You'd be hers and she'd be yours and no one else's. She had everything planned, a big ball was coming, dances that she commonly hated, but this one would serve a special purpose, to formally introduce you to the other acquaintances in her life. She even had a special tailor-made dress made for you, completely delicate. It was the most beautiful and delicate garment you had ever had in your life, it was probably worth 3 times more than all your belongings put together, but what gave it the most value was that Brienne had it made especially for you, thinking of you.

In the evening, she came for you, wearing a completely delicate suit with the same colors as your dress, you felt like a princess from a fairy tale where your knight came looking for you and everything was perfect. All the way you were holding on to her arm, although you wanted to behave, the emotion was getting the better of you and you couldn't avoid make small jumps of excitement, which seemed very cute to your companion and made her laugh.

You knew this was a special occasion, you'd never gone out with Brienne outside of her house or the brothel, nobody never saw you together like this, and the thought that others would know about you caused immense emotion inside your heart. But everything changed the moment you walked in and saw the looks of the other guests perched on you and Brienne, the only thing you could do was squeeze the arm of the woman next to you tighter when a couple of half-drunk men approached you

-"Lord commander" - One of them spoke in a mocking tone—"I know it must be hard to get a partner with the beast-like appearance you have, but to bring a whore to a real dance is to fall very low, even for someone desperate like you."- Your blood began to boil, how could such things say about her? Brienne was the most beautiful person there was, they were the horrendous ones inside and out

-"Go away assholes, you don't know what you're talking about, Brienne could have whoever she wanted, I'm the lucky one to be by her side tonight, your insults are a sign of your jealousy, because not a pig would want to be with you."-You responded angrily but they just laughed

-"Brienne? She even tells her by her first name, tell us Commander, how much did you pay the whore to be with you tonight and defend your name?"- Another of the men commented, Brienne didn't answer, she just let go of your arm and took a step back. You felt how your heart contracted as you saw with shame that she looked at you when she heard the things they said to you.

One of them got too close to you and stroked your hair- "whatever she paid you, I can double it so you'll be with me tonight" - his breath smelled of pure alcohol and nerves entered your body pushing the lord's hand away from your hair you shook your head

-"Or tell us, how much would it cost for us to go outside so you give me a blowjob? I've heard that mouth can do wonders," said another of them and your eyes began to fill with tears, why didn't Brienne defend you? Why did her let them talk about you like that?

-"I... I don't do that anymore"- you murmured, not knowing what to do and avoiding their gazes. They laughed again

-"Did you hear that? The whore wants to play the delicate princess. Just because you're wearing a fancy dress doesn't make you change who you really are, you dirty bitch" - One of them spoke almost spitting in your face and tears began to fall down your cheeks without being able to control them

-"Please, almost all the men here know that when we put a little money in front of you, you'll be on your knees sucking everything that comes your way"-One grabbed your cheeks roughly and smiling , watching you cry- "That teary face reminds me of how you cry when you have a prominent cock buried in your throat, so cute. Why are you next to this giant? She'll be very tall but I don't think she has a cock that can really fill you up and leave you satisfied, you just play to feel satisfied because she pays you a lot so you don't damage her ego?"-At this point you didn't feel your body anymore, you felt so fragile, not even in the brothel had you been treated so badly, there was always security when there was a problem, but here there was no one to defend you, not even Brienne made an attempt to defend you or keep you away from them.

-"With the amount of people she's slept with, she probably doesn't feel anything anymore, even the lord commander could stick her sword in her vagina and the whore wouldn't even feel it. The slut would probably enjoyed it, she sure has some very outrageous fetishes" - Another spoke by clenching your jaw very hard with his hands, all you could do was tremble from your sobs. Nothing that was happening seemed real, you didn't know at what moment you thought this would be a good idea, in what reality Brienne would have a real relationship with you and come out to defend a prostitute like you?

When the queen approached from the commotion that was forming, the men moved away from you. While you felt the queen speaking to you, you couldn't decipher a single word, feeling dazed and lost. All you could see was Brienne walking away from you, staring at the floor in embarrassment.

Your feet carried you out of the party, you didn't know how or when, but you went back to the brothel alone, to lie on your bed and cry yourself to sleep.

The next day Brienne came to see you, to apologize, she didn't know why she didn't do anything to stop the men, she just froze and wanted to apologize for that. But when she arrived at the place, the owner of the brothel told her that you had packed your things and left without saying where or why.

At that moment Brienne felt her life shattered, as you had felt when you saw that she did nothing to defend you that night.

[lainiespicewrites]

Electric Summer Ch 4

I’m sorry this took me so long! But I finally finished my math class and had the time to write!

Summary Big day with the campers big day for Sy and Lainie, and a hurt camper 😭

Let me know what you think comments and reblogs always welcome!!

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My morning starts with a shake. I open my eyes slowly to find Emma standing next to my bunk. Her little hand gently rocked my shoulder. “Emma? You okay?” my voice groggy as I leaned up on my elbows. She nodded

“Yeah, sorry,” she whispered. “ I just wanted to tell you I’m heading to the showers in case you woke up and I was gone. I didn’t want you to worry.” I nodded fully sitting up in my bunk reaching to check my phone. It was 6:27 my alarm would be going off soon anyway.

“Go ahead,” I told her. “I’ll be heading that way myself soon. Thank you for telling me.” I kept my voice quiet. I wouldn’t start to get everyone else up until I got back. She smiled and left the cabin walking off toward the bathrooms. I’m so glad that I was with the older kids. I wouldn’t have any issue escorting them around or making sure everyone had a buddy to go with. But it was nicer just having an honor system and giving them their freedom.

Standing from the bunk I stretched pulling my bag from the Bunk above me. None of the girls decided to sleep up there so I used it for storage. I grabbed my shower bag. I grabbed another pair of shorts. It was going to be a chilly morning because of the rain so I searched for a sweatshirt and found an old highschool sports hoodie. There was a light earthy smell outside of the cabin. The storm last night made everything damp. The sky was just becoming light. To the west it was a dusty blue and to the east where the sun was rising there were beautiful orange hues. There were a few showers running creating a soft white noise to the background of my morning. I let the water wake me and gave myself a fresh start for the day ahead. When I got back to the cabin 2 more of the girls were starting to get themselves around. Taylor was just heading out as I was coming in and Ryleigh was just standing out of her bunk.

“Good morning,” I spoke softly and smiled. My towl was still wrapped around my head. She gave me a tired smiled and mumbled back a sleepy

“Morning,” I watched her for a moment as she rooted through her bag finding what she was looking for. I straightened up my bed quickly before I sat down criss-cross, towel drying my hair and brushing it out.

“There’s plenty of showers open if you’re headed that way!” I told her. She nodded.

“I was gonna go for a walk first if that’s okay? She asked.

I checked my phone, it was 6:45 “Breakfast is in a little over an hour, so just be back before then okay?” I smiled. She nodded and thanked me before throwing on a sweatshirt and some sneakers. She walked past me and I heard the cabin door slam.

I smiled to myself as I pulled out my notebook looking over our schedule for the day. Today was going to be really fun! The “Leaders” groups, Aka the high school aged kids, had a huge scavenger hunt set up all across camp. During the storm last night while Sy and I were talking with some of our fellow counselors we decided to make it a battle between all the individual cabins instead of our “family” cabins. Which meant we were in competition with the boys. Anything that ended up being a battle of the sexes was always a blast! We always seemed to play harder, but there were never any hard feelings. Although the boys were much more likely to be sore losers. And far more likely to rub it in if they won. We hadn’t told our campers yet. But they were going to love this.

I had the inside door slightly propped open and the windows were up so there was a slight breeze coming in through the screens. Off in the distance I heard a voice that was unmistakably Sy.

“Come on Ethan don’t give up on me already man!” He called. I had no idea what they were doing, surely they weren’t already up to no good before 7am. I let some more time pass as a the rest of the girls got up and got ready for the day. Well almost all of them.

“Nicole.” I said softly shaking her arm, standing on my toes to reach the top bunk. She groaned.

“5 more minutes.” She grumbled. I chuckled to myself. This was the third time I’d tried to wake her.

“Come on sweetheart, you told me yesterday you wanted to be up by 7 its 7:25,” I said gently. I wasn’t necessarily a morning person myself. I understood where she was coming from.

“Well why did it have to come so early,” she sighed throwing her pillow over her head.

“It’s just the way the world works girly. Trust me when I was a camper I hated it too.” I giggled. “But I promise if you get up and get ready there will be coffee at breakfast.” I smiled. That got her attention. She sat up slowly. Her messy hair falling into her eyes.

“Ugh fine,” she said. “But none of the boys better say anything stupid, I’m not responsible for anything that comes out of my mouth before at least 9am!” I chuckled softly.

“Understood.” I said. And left her to get ready for the day. A few minutes before we needed to head over I had the girls meet me outside just to make sure everyone was accounted for. Of course Nicole was my last one out. I smiled to myself. When I saw the boys walking over to join us. A couple of the boys hunched over walking slowly with their hands holding their sides. When they stopped in front of our cabin Ethan dramatically “fell” and laid on the grass

“Morning ladies!” Sy smiled.

“Good morning!” I smiled back. And a few of the girls greeted them as well. “What’d you do to those poor boys?” I laughed.

“Nothing they didn’t ask for.” He chuckled.

“It was torture!” Ethan groaned lifting his head up to look at me from the ground. Beckett looked down at him shaking his head.

“Bro we just went on a run.” Beckett smirked.

“Exactly torture!” he groaned. Sy shook his head.

“You didn’t have to go bud, you coulda slept in,” he chuckled. Ethan sighed dramatically and took the hand Beckett offered him to help him stand.

“Can we go to breakfast now? We get it Ethan you don’t run, I want coffee!” Nicole said playfully pushing past him and walking toward the cafeteria.

“Good morning Nikki,” He called after her a little smirk playing on his lips.

“Shut up,” She bit back without turning around. To be fair she had warned me. I just shook my head holding in a laugh. Sy raised an eye brow and I just smiled as we all started to head in that direction.

“She’s…not a morning person.” I said answering the question hadn’t asked.

“I see that,” He chuckled “Everything go okay for you girls after the storm last night? I uh, I kept thinking about ya,” He smiled. I felt a blush creep up my cheeks. Truth be told he was all I was thinking about every second my brain had the free time to wander. I tossed and turned for a while last night trying to shake the giddiness so I could just fall asleep. Being here with him. The way he’d kissed me last night. I felt like I was a teenager again. But with the girls around I had to play it cool. I had to be the remember I was the adult here. Whatever that was supposed to mean.

Finally I nodded.

“Yeah the girls were fine, I think I was more shaken up then they were. Everything went pretty smooth this morning!” I said. “I didn’t know you were taking the boys on a run, how’d that go?” I asked. He laughed, keeping an eye on the campers that were now all ahead of us.

“It was good, I like to go for a morning run, so I asked the boys if they wanted to come with, I told them they could tell whoever they wanted to come with us. Couple boys from Tanners cabin showed up. They mostly enjoyed it. Ethan… just likes the attention he gets from putting on a show. Seems to be a good kid though.” He smiled. We walked in silence the rest of the short walk to the building where they served breakfast. There was a deck that came off the back of the building and overlooked the playground. I felt Sy’s hand on my back as we started walking up the steps. I bit my lip softly, embarrassed that such a little touch made me feel so much.

It was something he always did. He wanted to make sure I didn’t fall. Because I did once. When we were younger. It had rained that moring and the steps were slippery. I fell up the steps in front of everyone. My face had gotten so red. I remember being so embarrassed about it. Logan immediately ran over and helped me up. He said something to make me laugh to make me forget about it.

And ever since then he always did the small gesture as support. I didn’t think he’d remembered. But they do say old habits die hard. We caught up with our campers and joined them at our table. Nicole had already managed to get some coffee.

“Aw it’s our first breakfast as a family,” Emma said smiling at the two of us as we sat with them.

“Em don’t make breakfast weird!” Her brother called from across table.

“I’m not the cabins are literally called family groups! You’re the one that makes everything weird!” She argued. These two were hilarious. I found out very quickly, even just having been here a day, it’s best to just let them have their little twin spats. It’s usually over pretty quick.

“How was you’re walk this morning Ryleigh?” I heard Beckett ask as he slid into the seat across from her setting his plate down. She startled a moment not expecting someone to be infront of her and then realized what he’d said.

“Oh, it was good thanks,” She smiled shyly. “How, uh how was your run?” she asked him.

“It was nothing, I’m used to way more than that with football practice.” He shrugged. “You should come run with us next time,” He smiled. She blushed looking down at her pancakes.

“I don’t really run,” she responded.

I looked over at Logan who was grinning at me. He’d heard them too. I raised an eyebrow.

“Did I miss something?” I asked him. He just shook his head and chuckled.

After breakfast the kids had a bit of time to themselves before we started any activities. All of the cabins were supposed to meet on the field next to the park in about an hour or so. A few of the girls went back to the cabin to get the supplies to make friendship bracelets. And some of the other campers had a game of four square going.

Since most of ours were spread out around the park playing games, sitting on the grass talking, or making crafts I decided to sit on the old swings and journal. I didn’t have to watch so closely but I felt better keeping an eye on them. Ryleigh has still been pretty quiet and a couple of my other girls have taken some time to warm up and come out of their shell. I wanted to be close incase they wanted someone to talk to or just to sit with.

The last time I’d looked up Logan had joined the four square game and had worked his way up to the king square. I watched for a minute before I started writing. It wasn’t long before I got lost in my writing and everything in the background turned into white noise. Some time had passed I’m not sure how much but when I looked up again Sy was walking in my direction with a soft smile on his face.

“Hey darlin,” He said as he sat next to me.

“Hi!” I said cheerfully. “They finally kicked you out for being too old?” I teased. He gave me a slight pout before he snickered.

“No, I left the game because I kept winning.” He grinned proudly.

“Mhmm,” I mused. We sat like that for a moment sy had one arm on the back of the swing and he was rocking us slowly rolling his heel.

“Dad!” one of his boys called from across the lawn. Sy perked up and chuckled at the name before he responded.

“What’s up Zach?” He asked.

“When do we have to meet for the scavenger hunt thing?” He asked, still calling from across the park.

“11!” Sy called back checking his watch “You got a little over an hour,” He told him. Zach gave him a thumbs up and it was clear they were starting another game.

I couldn’t help the laugh that came out,

“Dad,huh? When did that start?” I raised an eyebrow. His chest shook with laughter.

“Last night when I got ‘em all corralled back into the cabin, I think Ethan started it and now they’re all doin’ it.” He shook his head. I giggled softly and we fell back into a comfortable silence. It was cute the boys seeing him as a father figure. I’m surprised the girls haven’t started calling me mom yet. I remember doing it when we were here too. It’s what gave this place that sense of home away from home. I liked that Idea. The kids calling us Mom and Dad. Like Sy and I were husband and wife…I blushed. I felt Sy’s eyes on me and my blush deepened. “You wanna go for a little walk with me? Get away for a second?” He asked.

I looked over at all of our campers. They were all preoccupied. All of them intermingled with kids from other cabins. Another group's counselors were sitting in old rocking chairs on the deck chatting. It’s not like we had to be watching over them at every second. They were old enough to know to come get us if something was urgent. Finally I looked back at him and nodded. “Okay,” I answered. I put my journal back in my backpack and slid it on as we started to walk.

“Ethan!” Sy called as we walked past. The boy's head snapped in our direction hearing his name, eyes wide like he was afraid he was in trouble. Sy chuckled and I watched Ethans shoulders relax a little. “Lainie and I are gonna be walking the trail, if you guys need anything you can come find us! I’m trusting you to let the others know .. that includes the girls.” He told him. Ethan nodded and gave him a big smile.

“You got it Dad! I won’t let you down!” He said. I shook my head as we kept walking.

“They adore you!” I laughed.

“Yeah well, I know how to have a good time!,” He smirked. Playfully nudging my shoulder with his. I blushed and pulled my sunglasses down to hide my eyes.

“Don’t I know it!” I replied, trying to keep up. This man was going to be the death of me. He looked over at me for a moment as we crossed the lawn between the cabins and kept going past them. That smirk still plastered on his face.

“You don’t yet Darlin, but you will,” he answered. I didn’t think my face could get any hotter. I looked around to make sure no one had heard our conversation.

“Good lord Logan, you trying to get us into trouble?” I whispered and smacked him playfully on the arm.

“I’m teasin’ baby,” He chuckled. “But we sure as hell wouldn’t be the first ones around here to sneak off and have a little fun.” He wiggled his eyebrows and I snorted.

“Yeah I know! You don’t have to remind me about the Cait and Josh situation. I can’t believe you helped him with that!” Back when we were campers Cait and Josh were friends of ours. They dated over the summer. They’d “break up” and then get back together every summer. It was such a mess. Josh was such a player and Cait knew it but she didn’t care.

One afternoon we were all off on our own. I was hanging out at the park and noticed Logan and one of their other bunkmates “Standing guard in front of the entrance underneath the big pirate ship on the playground. I was super confused because the guys were usually off playing some sort of sport or something. Sy caught my eye and I raised an eyebrow. He just shook his head with that signature smirk on his lips. But then they moved and Cait came crawling out, her hair was a mess. At first I was more confused, then Josh came crawling out behind her. That stupid satisfied grin on his face. I rolled my eyes and shook my head at them. And then ignored Logan the rest of the day. Just because. Of course we made up the next day, but I was annoyed with him for doing it.

Logan chuckled, pulling me back from the memory. “I was stupid teenage boy back then, you can’t hold that against me. When my buddy had an opportunity to get some, I wasn’t gonna stand in his way!” He stated. I rolled my eyes.

“You boys can be real pigs sometimes, you know it?” I said. We finally made it to the trail walking in the woods. The sun peeking down through the trees. It was so pretty but perfectly secluded when you needed it to be.

“I know, but I’ve never been anything short of a gentleman with you Darlin.” He argued.

“Oh so you throwing me in the lake the other day was an act of chivalry?” I questioned.

“You looked hot, thought you might wanna cool off.” He smirked.

“I think you were just being a dick.” I retorted.

“Mmm” He hummed still smirking and grabbed my hand leading me off the trail. “You're a lot feistier than I remember,” he challenged. He stopped and slowly walked me backwards until my back was pressed against the nearest tree. I bit my lip softly trying to keep my composure. I wasn’t going to let him win so easily.

“Yeah, What's so wrong with that?” I raised an eyebrow. He shook his head staring down at me, his eyes flickering to my lips before meeting mine again.

“Ain’t nothing wrong with it baby, just making it even harder for me to keep my hands off you.” I let out a shaky breath. Okay so maybe I would fold that easy. Shit that was smoothe. “The way you kissed me last night Darlin’” He paused, eyeing me hungrily. “I’m not so convinced you want me to.” He drawled. My breath hitched. I felt jittery all over. He had one hand next to my head leaning against the tree pinning me in place without even touching me. I swallowed hard.

“We should get back, the campers might…need us.” I said nervously. It was a lame excuse. Especially because I’d just convinced myself they’d be fine. But suddenly all the attention he was giving me felt like too much. His eyes softened and his smirk faded into a gentle smile. He brought his hand up caressing my cheek with his thumb.

“They’re big kids honey, they’re okay, tell me what’s really on your mind.” he cooed.

I took in a deep breath taking a small step away from the tree and resting my forehead against his broad chest.

“I’m scared.” I admitted. That’s the one thing I hated most about myself. People told me all the time I was confident and so brave. But I didn’t see how. I was so afraid all the time. So scared of everything. Scared of the dark, scared of falling, of getting hurt, of falling in love with a man just for him to leave. A lot of people have left. I guess that’s life, we grow up and we grow apart. But I don’t want to be left stranded with a broken heart. I’m scared that he’ll get hurt. What if I disappoint him and after all this time I’m not the girl he waited 7 years just to kiss. I don’t want to feel so damn scared. The thing is back then, when I was with Sy, all of that fear went away. And he’s proved all over again that he still knows how to fight my fears with me. But right now being with him is causing them just as much as it is fighting them. I feel like I’m stuck on an upside down roller coaster and there’s no ride operator to stop this thing.

“What for,” he asked, his fingers brushing through my hair, pulling me back from my emotional spiral.

I stood up straight and looked into his eyes. “Because I want to be with you so bad it physically hurts. In two days you’ve managed to make me feel more for you than I did all those years ago. But what happens after this? It’s no different than back then. What happens when summer’s over and we go our separate ways? I can’t do just another summer fling with you Logan. I fully intended to move on this whole time but against my own will I still waited for you! Like somehow I knew we’d come back to each other. But I can’t accept fate if you’re just gonna let me fall again.” I hiccupped through a silent sob.

Sy grabbed my face in both hands staring down at me intently.

“I never knew I hurt you so bad baby,” He said softly, swiping away my tears with his thumb. There he was using that word again. Claiming me as his before I have the chance to run myself.

“Y-you didn’t…it’s just…” I trailed off, my eyes shifting to the ground.

“Lainie Look at me,” hearing him say my name with such intensity broke my heart. I met his eyes again and I could see how much it had hurt him to know that I had been so sad all this time. “There isn’t a demon in hell that could keep me away from you. I’m not leavin’ you. I don’t know what I'm gonna be doin’ at the end of this summer, but I do know wherever I go it won’t be far from you. I’m not asking you to give yourself to me Darlin’ not if you ain’t ready. But just let me show you I never stopped wanting you.” His eyes were pleading and I would do anything I could to heal the hurt in his eyes right now. I nodded. Still holding my face he leaned down and crushed his lips to mine. I let out an involuntary whimper as I clutched his t-shirt pulling him closer.

The force of his kiss pushed me back against the tree. I felt his tongue push against my bottom lip and let him in lazily swiping my tongue against his. The taste so undeniably Sy. He let go of my face and held my waist against the tree and then pulled my bottom lip between his teeth. He groaned into my mouth as I ran my hands down his chest. And under his shirt desperate to feel his skin. I loved the way the soft hairs of his stomach and his chest felt under my fingertips. He pulled back from my lips and started trailing kisses across my jaw and down my neck. I moaned softly as I felt his teeth graze my neck soothing it with his tongue. If it weren’t for Sy holding me up I’d have melted into the ground by now. I needed to feel his lips on mine again. I took his face in my hands pulling him back to me. Meeting him in another heated kiss. I whined when he abruptly pulled away pouting softly. He chuckled but put a finger to his lips keeping me quiet.

In the distance down the trail I could faintly hear voices.

“Easy Darlin,” He smiled. “Sounds like one of our kiddos,” He spoke in a soft whisper. I strained to listen and he was right. It was very obviously Nicole… and

“Man I hope they aren’t far,” Ethan’s voice said from a few feet down the trail.

I looked up at Sy and he nodded grabbing my hand leading me back onto the trail.. We both came to the same conclusion, they were looking or us. And it sounded like they need help.

“Hey you two,” Sy said softly as we met up with them around a bend in the trees. Nicole’s eye’s went wide and she let out and exasperated breath.

“Ryleigh’s hurt!” she blurted out without explanation.

“What happened?” I asked them quickly.

“She and beckett were playing football and he was like teaching her how to throw and stuff and she tripped running to catch the ball.” Ethan answered.

“I think her ankle’s broken it’s like really bad!” Nicole added panicked. Sy took the lead running back on the trail having Ethan lead him back to Ryleigh and the others and Nicole and I jogged behind. She started to tear up a bit. “I’m sorry Lainie,” she sniffled. “I swear we were being good while you guys were gone we all wanted to give you two time together and.. We messed up,” I stopped her there. I laid my hand on her shoulder giving her a gentle squeeze.

“Nicole it’s okay, This is what we’re here for, you did the right thing coming to get us sweetheart.” she assured her.

“Is Ryleigh gonna be okay?” She asked. I nodded and gave her a gentle smile.

“We’ll make sure of it! Come on!” Nicole and I joined the others and Sy was already kneeling next to Ryleigh’s assessing the injury. Becca was there too, She must’ve been close by when it happened. I could see the tears streaming down Ryleigh’s face. The poor girl was in a lot of pain.

“It’s not your fault man,” I heard Logan say, Beckett was sitting in the grass next to her his hand on her shoulder the other nervously raking through his hair. Becca looked up at me when I approached.

“Do you think you two can get her too the nurse? I’ll stay here with your campers, and check in with everyone.” We both nodded.

“Can I come with?” Beckett asked. “I feel so bad,” He admitted. We looked to rebecca and she gave us a nod.

“It’s not your fault Beck” Ryleigh sniffled.Sy stood assessing the situation for a moment.

“Can you stand at all Darlin?” He asked her. She tried but immediately let out a whimper holding in her cry of pain.

“It’s okay hun,” I told her

“I’m gonna carry you, is that okay?” Logan asked. She nodded and he scooped her up off the ground and the three of us quickly started to walk to the nurses station. It was likely she would have to go to the hospital but we’d have to let the nurse asses it first.

“It’s nice of you to come keep her company.” I said giving Beckett a reassuring smile. He looked at me nervously and nodded. “Beckett,” I said softly. “It was an accident, you play football right, you see this stuff happen on the field all the time. She’s gonna be alright. She might hurt for a little bit but she’ll heal!” I said. He smiled a little and nodded.

“Thanks Lainie.”

At the nurses station they told us exactly what we had expected. They didn’t have an xray machine or anything so best they could tell was it was severely sprained and she’d need to go to the hospital to get it x-rayed to see if anything was broken. We called it in over our radio to Becca. She had to call Ryleigh’s parents to let them know and then she’d be there to wait for the ambulance to come take her. We checked with her to make sure if it was alright that we left her and Beckett alone to wait. She agreed that it’d be fine. Once we assured them again just to sit tight and everything would be okay we headed back to the rest of our campers.

“You okay?” Sy asked as we walked back. I let out a shaky breath.

“A little shaken up but I’ll be alright. You were great back there! I Couldn’t have done it without you,” I smiled. He put his hand on my my shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze and kissed my forehead.

“You did just fine darlin.” he smiled.

When we got back to the kids I noticed all the other family groups gathering on the field. The scavenger hunt I’d almost forgotten. We called all our kids together and had a group meeting.

“Okay, I know today has been kind of hectic,” I started. “But we’re gonna keep moving forward. And have a fun day!”

“Boys,” Sy said. “Todays all about competition and we’re gonna take the girls down!”

“Ladies, Sy’s an idiot and has no idea what he’s talking about! We’ve got this!”

It was time after our crazy chaotic stressful moring it was finally time for the fun to begin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Beg the sea for mercy (Sailor!Joelx Mermaid Reader)

They say the sea has some power over souls. It understands something that lies underneath flesh and bones, and it sings a song that appeals to those who are wounded.

Pairing: Sailor!Joel MillerxMermaid Reader

(The mermaid is described but it is a humanoid creature and for the most the aspects of her described are the more "creature" parts of her than physical description, once she's a human, she is not described except for being curvier and having hair) Joel calls her "girl" and she has her own POV in some parts

Themes and warnings: sea (a little bit of talasophobia I guess), depression, alcohol and drug comsuption, bodily horror, breeding "kink" not to give much away but the mermaid needs Joel for something. Smut but not super detailed, blood and violence.

This came to me a few years ago with Florence+The Machine Mermaids ( final chapter is actually a verse of the song)and watching The Lighthouse. "Future Days" is included here and actually checking the lyrics it fitted perfectly but I know it can be controversial since in the game is a very important between Joel and Ellie.

Also on AO3

They say the sea has some power over souls. It understands something that lies underneath flesh and bones, and it sings a song that appeals to those who are wounded.

Far from the land and the people, its roars and constant changes remind humans that it cannot be controlled. The crashing of the waves and the boat fighting its way over them is like the sound inside his body: the blood running, the heart beating, the bones cracking, soft and constant.

Joel needs those sounds to believe that his heart is still beating, that he is still alive, even if it feels he had died many years ago.

The sea is a welcoming mistress for lost souls. At land, all he did was bury himself in pills and alcohol. He numbed his head so his thoughts would stop being of his daughter last breath, how fast she was breathing, her cries, his shirt wet, warm and sticky over his chest.

I know, baby, I know.

I gotta get you up, babygirl

He remembers getting her corpse up of the ground, and all Joel Miller was, was left in the puddle of her daughter’s blood on the grass. The man that lived after that was dead, a zombie.

Joel found the fact of having to get back to his old life unbearable. How would he be able to do the same things he did when Sarah was alive?

And after trying to kill himself and failing, he ran away. Doing dodgy works here and there, using his rage and muscle for whomever paid the most so he could get enough pills and whisky to pass out every night.

In the dark loop that his life had become, he found Cap. Nobody could tell how old he was or from where that thick accent could come from or even his real name. He called Joel kid which implied an older age, but he couldn’t point out if he was that much older than him.

He told him about his boat and their route to the pacific all the way down and back.

“8 months out, open sea and more money you will make in any other place”.

He got on the Perseus on Sarah’s birthday after swallowing a pill and a bottle of Jack. Cap looked at him up and down:

“Whatever you do after your shift is up to you. But on duty hours you stay sharp, kid”.

He did. Soon enough he didn’t feel his hands shaken and he could sleep almost soundly every night. The sea sang its song, the low hums of the machinery and the gentle waves, and he was rocked like a baby in a crib. He still drank each night. Sergey, part time cook and fisherman, served every meal with a shot of vodka.

“To keep you warm, strong.” He flexed his pale arm under the bright yellow overalls.

The nights at the edge of the world were long, too far away from land, any land, that Joel thought the sun would not rise again. For days he would wake up at 2 A.M and work up until midday, but the nets were coming empty.

“Fucking shit” he muttered after another day of nothing.

“Don’t curse at the sea, son, she will give her share when she’s ready. We just have to keep on begging”. Cap said and patted his back.

They were so far away; the radar never showed any passing ship.

The sky was so bright, Joel saw the Milky way for the first time. That white spur of cosmos full of stars brighter than any artificial light he had never seen before.

The sea was so calm the light drew silver lines over the soft waves, the soft push of them crushed against the boat, when he saw it.

A shadow, barely a head above water. If it weren’t for those silver lines, a glitch on the reflection of the sky above, he wouldn’t have seen it.

And as soon as he stepped closer to the edge, it disappeared.

That night the nets were once again empty. Before they let the machinery rewind them and throw them again, he found it. A perfect seashell, the conch turned on itself in a mix of pink like roses and white as the seafoam.

He grabbed it and put it on his pocket and didn’t get it out until he was on his bunk bed.

Joel touched its coarse exterior, the small waves made of years of the ocean’s erosion. The seashell had an opening on its middle, bright pink and soft to the touch almost like flesh. His calloused fingertips got over the opening tracing from the tip to the end. He could hear the sea coming from it and he fell asleep with it on his hand. Then the dreams started.

He dreamt he was underwater, as deep and black as the universe. His lungs were caving in, the water of the ocean filling him in its cold arms.

That’s when he saw her. His eyes searched for the moonlight that pierced the water on the reflection of her fins. They were silver with a shade of black. In the darkness he could distinguish her shape, long, longer than any animal he had seen. She propelled herself with her tail and pushed the water with her arms. She danced around him ignoring that he was dying, for a moment he thought that maybe that was what she e waited for. She turned and spin almost like she was having fun of his suffering.

In his dream, he reached for her, beg even if words could not come out of his mouth. She came, a cloud of silver and darkness of her hair. She grabbed him from his waist, hard so hard Joel expelled all his oxygen. He screamed but she grabbed his jaw, sharp nails scratching his skin.

She was a vision. Something human and not at the same time. Her eyes were all black, bigger in her head, her skin was cold and soft even if a bit viscous, her lips were pale, and she opened her mouth. Was it a smile? And her teeth where sharp, white as pearls. She sealed her lips to him, and he tasted blood. He fought against her, but she was stronger. Her hand pressed against his nape when he felt her nails scratching his scalp.

He was too tired, too close to hypoxia and then he felt the air, sweet and cold, that she was transferring, under her ears, her gills opened and closed.

She held him, her nails didn’t pierce him anymore but cradle his head, he felt his heart slowing down and then the siren woke him up. It was time for another shift.

The dream came to him every night, and every night he had to get through the agony of dying before he could touch her, each night he fought less and less, until weeks after finding the conch, he submerged himself in the depth of the sea fearlessly, open arms waiting for her to come save him.

“You got your head elsewhere, kid” Joel had read the captain lips, but he signed his cancelling noise headset.

The captain repeated the same sentence until Joel rolled his eyes and he knew he had understood him.

The red light on top of the ceiling and the deep siren alerted them to step out as the boat open its vault to welcome the nets. For weeks they had come empty, but that night the cables were tense teasing that they had a great catch for once.  From the black waters, the bodies of thousands of fish jumped in silver.

Sergey and the captain cheered.

“She blessed us, I told you, kid” “We just need to keep on begging and now we thank her”.

The captain stepped on the nets over the slugs and small conches. He got close to the edge, Joel crossed fast to stop him, but the old man kneeled on the edge, getting a knife from his boot, he slashed his hand and raised to the moon, the blood fell black as if they were tears from the sky above. Joel heard him pray.

Thank you for providing us with such a bounty. We are thankful for your gifts, let us go back safely to shore.

Sergey shook his head and muttered “Crazy”

After all the fish were put on refrigeration, they gathered in the kitchen, the guys from the AM shift too as Captain had granted a day off for everybody. Sergey took the opportunity to cook a special meal and open his best vodka, the one he kept on a locked cabinet. “For special occasions only” he poured the shots and served each man a generous ration of a fish stew.

“Who did you thank back there?” Joel asked, the captain had cured his hand with badges that had an already a faint maroon stain on them.

“The sea, son, who else?” he chuckled.

“You cut your hand for the sea?” Joel raised an eyebrow and pointed to the wounded hand.

“You are new, you will learn. The sea is not made for us to stay and pillage. You have to give something back if you want to be blessed “

“Is some kind of religion or what?

“Don’t be a fool. There are many gods on the land, and none will show their power as the sea does. She will teach you quickly not to bother her or mock her, son”.

“Is a she then, a goddess?”

“Are you mocking me, kid?” the captain through his spoon on his plate and the rest of the men looked at them.

“I’m just curious as to why you will cut your hand”.

The storm arrived two days after. Joel tried to control his fear, his trembling hands when the sea turned grey and the waves covered the ship, again and again they hit higher. They had to get back to shore but the currents were too strong, they kept sending them deeper. There was no signal on the radio or radar. Isolated the days seemed eternal, they were completely covered most of the time, but sometimes, Joel could see the sky opening and the thunderstorm lighted up the stars. At night, for the briefest of time, the air was on fire when the lightnings stroke, he could see the dark waves coming as they hit the ship when it was pitched black.

One of those dark waves swallowed the ship whole eventually. When Joel fell  in the dark waters, the waves made impossible to hear the rest of the men or even to see them in the dark, once he was over one wave, another would drown him. The life jacket made him float up, but he could just take one small breath and the sea would push him down.

He was tired, exhausted in minutes and so He let go. And unlocked his lifejacket.

Let the sea take me. I want to go with my babygirl.

Sarah.

Sarah

He heard her, laughing, saw her killer smile in the stars calling back to him. For once all he remembered was not her dying and he knew it was time.

It wasn’t like in his dreams. The ocean was dark and cold. The currents too strong for him to even know what’s up and down. And soon he let the water in invade him with violence and somehow peace.

He remembered dark eyes glittering in a dark cave. If it wasn’t for the sand he touched and the air he felt, Joel would have sworn he had died and was falling still in the dark pitch of the ocean.

When those eyes approached him, he heard her crawl, creeping her wet and cold body over him. She reached for his chest with long nailed hands, each finger connected to the other by thin skin.

Joel heard his voice break when he tried to scream, but nothing came out but a pathetic whine.

The siren reached his head, those black pools staring at him, her mouth opened with sharp teeth. And then she posed her head on his chest and began singing. It pierced straight to his heart, through skin and bone and then his world in that tiny cave went silent. Only her voice could be heard, not his cries, not his heart or blood still running, not his pain or Sarah’s last breath, just the creature signing.

He woke up when light hit his eyes, bright and white against the clear stone. Sand on his feet and his hands, cold and grounding. He was alive.

“You are awake”.

He turned his head to his feet, scared to find the creature, instead a girl sat next to him. Naked if just for a thin throw she had tighten with a piece of rope. Joel tried to lift his body but his vision blurred and when he tried to speak his throat was dry and hurt.

“Here. Drink”

She kneeled before him and poured water on his lips. Sweet and cold, when the thin dribble stopped, he tried instinctively to raise for more.

“Not so fast”

“Please” he begged, when she raised her hands again, Joel saw she was holding his shell, that one he found on the boat. Its perfect pink spiral holding fresh water to his mouth, it was a dream. Maybe he was indeed drowning still, his braincells dying little by little with the lack of oxygen.

But the sand on his hands, the pain on his limbs felt so real.

“Rest” she pressed her palm on his chest “I bring more water”.

She raised, the white thin cloth hanging around her body, she went inside the cave where he could not see her. Joel tried to raise again this time, slower and surer, his arms finally feeling strong enough to press his palms on the ground. His vision was still blurry, and the light hit him too hard.

He inspected the cave, empty if it wasn’t for the improvised bed he was on, a pile of clothes, fading and harsh for the saltpetre, he found his shirt and pants and his fishing overalls, an another one, an another, an another. All from the Perseus.

“Here” the girl followed his gaze and put his hand on his shoulder “You need to rest”

“Where are the men from my boat?”

“Water” she said, her hand on his chin turning his face to the shell. Joel didn’t know if she wanted him to drink or answering his question. He drank again.

“I need to come home” he said, maybe it was a prayer or a wish, he hadn’t called anything home since his daughter. “I need to call somebody; they must be searching the ship”.

The woman squared her shoulders.

“Nobody is searching”

“Please, you need to help me, I have to come back, they must be looking for me…my family”.

“Sarah?” she kneeled again suddenly less tense.

“What? How?”

“You speak in dreams, call her..cry for her” she spoke softly, tilted her head awaiting a answer.

“My daughter…she…” he couldn’t say, she had been trying for years to tell, my daughter was, Sarah was my daughter, he couldn’t bare speak of her in the pass.

“My brother must be worried, we need to call the coast guards, somebody to bring me back to…”

“Nobody is coming” she pushed him firmly to the bed again, for a moment her eyes grew dark as those he saw in his dreams under water and in this cave after she had saved him.

Joel accepted her care for a day more. She brought her water and fish. The fish still moving and trying to escape its fate until she slapped them against the rock. Hair and body dripping cold water from the sea, the girl gutted the fish for him, tearing away their spine and head and presenting him their still fresh body with bloody nails. She ate one herself but with less pleasantries and bite the half of its body while blood dipped from her chin.

After he could get up by himself the next day when she was gone to get food, Joel made an expedition out of the cave. His hope sank when he saw how small the isle was. A piece of dark rock and steep hills, with thin trees with black roots and dark green leaves. The sea crushed against it violently, its roar was astounding, on the small coast, he found pieces of the ship. He climbed, almost out of breath, to the highest hill he found.

The sky was cloudy, big masses of white dust and wind over that remote corner of the world, and all he could see down was a never-ending sea, no ships, no continent, nothing but water.

He felt the waves crushing his ribs again, his heart. He would never leave this isle, he would never be home, never see his brother and explain so many things. How the world crumbled when Sarah died, how he could not see a future, the person he became, the fear of looking and the mirror and see his soulless eyes. He wanted to come back home, he wanted to be able to call something his home once again.

He felt the rage coming, like bile coming up his gut, and he screamed, he screamed, and he kick the rocks until he was tired.

When he came back to the cave, she was waiting.

She frowned at him, she had already gutted her catch and sat on the clothes of the dead men with dead fish on her hands.

“You need to rest” she repeated.

“This can’t be real” he ignored her

On his way down, Joel had convinced himself he was imagining her, that finally the drugs, the alcohol and the depression combined with a concussion was making her up.

She looked at him and tended her hand “Eat” the fish was blue as dark as the blood that pooled on the siren’s hand.

“Leave me alone” he slapped her hand away. He wanted a whiskey so bad, he wanted to swallow the pills one by one, they probably thought him dead anyway. Tommy must have been informed by now. What was the point.

He hadn’t heard the girl standing and taking the fish back, she cleaned the sand as much as she could and presented it again, this time with a serious look “Eat”

“Leave me the fuck alone!” Joel tried to push her away, but she grabbed him by his throat and smacked him to the pile of the dead men clothes. She was stronger than him, much more. She straddled his lap and pressed her dirty nails on his cheeks.

Her breath was warm and her body cold and wet. He blamed his addictions and completely fucked up brain, that all his thoughts were about her body on top of him. He was aware of her nakedness, of the slump skin of her hips and thighs pressing his hips of how she was barely covered and how he could see her perked nipples under the damped fabric.

“eat” she repeated, and he opened his mouth.

She tore a small part and pushed the meat on his lips, softly, her fingers tasted of salt and blood.

When he had eating enough, she smiled. A beautiful, sweet, almost innocent smile, if not for the blood on her teeth.

“You will get strong soon”

The days fell and came, and he couldn’t move. He didn’t want to face the outside and small world of that minuscule isle.

He cried most of the time, sometimes the tears will just run on his cheeks, sometimes he would loudly sob while the siren was away. She brought him different food: octopus that she shredded with her bare hands, crabs and oysters, she also started bringing shells and showed them to him.

“beautiful” she said presenting another one, and she would look disappointed every time he didn’t react.

And so, she started singing.

She cradled his head on her lap, her sharp nails scratching the greying hairs again and again.

Her voice was soft and deep. Sometimes it was just a hum, other she would vocalise and others she would sing in a language he didn’t understand. Long syllables and soft words. Even if she used unknown words or just sounds, Joel understood. She sang about love and longing, about death and loss. Sometimes he started to cry again in the middle of her song, and she hushed him like a baby. With her voice and her hands, she caressed his wounds and his heart.

In the night, they lay together, and she tangled herself to him. She was soft and warm and smelled like salt and sand. Her heartbeat steady, mouth softly open, features relaxed, if she noticed that sometimes he caressed her leg, from ankle to thigh, the one she tossed over his body, she didn’t say.

Sometimes she turned and grabbed his arm cuddled herself under him, as if he was a blanket over her. She placed his hand between her breasts, her slow and steady breath should have calmed him. But she pushed herself against him, her back against her belly, her hips between his hips.

If she noticed that he was painfully hard, she didn’t say.

Sleep would find him eventually, but that’s when the nightmares started.

“Do not cry, Joel” she kissed the tears running on his cheeks, and she started singing, and he’d cried more. He cried until he was empty and exhausted, until he could fill the sea and drown.

The siren sang every night, and he began to forget why he was crying and that he should think about coming back.

He indeed felt stronger after a while, his body had forgotten the effort of fighting the waves and drowning, his mind nonetheless was tired, lazy, he woke up without any will of getting up, the exterior of the cave was a minuscule and harsh natured place, the cave was warm, the girl fed him, sang and took care of him.

Most times he didn’t want her to move, and he would protest when she said she got to go.

That’s how they kissed the first time.

“Don’t go, I’m not hungry” he begged, hands on her hips, kneeling before her.

“I need the sea” she smiled softly and bent down, her hands on his face like a child, she kissed her frown and then his lips. They were warm, soft, Joel had never felt something so soft as her lips and her skin in years. After so much hardship and pain, then there was her. But she walked out of the cave, leaving him on his knees still marvelling of the kiss. Joel shook all the thoughts that were spiralling on his head and followed her.

The day was covered in white fluffy clouds leaving the waters in a milky blue colour. The girl breathed deeply and took out the cloth that covered her. He watched her as the waters kissed her feet and she giggled. She looked at him just once before running to the depth.

Joel waited and waited; the sun was almost setting. The clouds were the colour of ripe orange, when she came back.

That silver and black tail splashed on the coast, and she let her body be carried with the waves.

For a moment she was limp on the sand, the long tail he remembered, her hands and digits connected with a thin and see-through tissue. He approached her, worried, what if she had died, what if he was left alone in here. The loud noise that invaded his heart and mind years ago when Sarah died, came back, he couldn’t move, not even say a word.

But the siren shrieked, loud and high, her long nails digging in the sand. Her body trembled, her spine curved upwards, like an invisible current went through her, he saw her skin tear from the inside out. Her silver scales breaking, blood covering the sand and the white foam of the waves became a faded pink. From the mess of her skin tearing a human leg came out, her feet stuck on the meaty mess of her former body. She crawled out of the parts of her tail when she cried out again sounding like a wounded animal, Joel had to cover his ears, the skin between her fingers melted, her bones shrinking to a delicate size, her hands pushed upwards, she raised with splatters of her old body still attached to her human skin. Her eyes were still dark and all black pupils. She stepped on wobbly legs towards Joel before collapsing on the ground.

He picked her up from the sand and carried her to the cave.

“Please tell me what to do” Joel whispered, desperate “do not leave me here”.

The siren smiled softly, tired.

“I will stay” she muttered before falling sleep.

Joel waited hours, watching her chest going up and down, checking her pulse. Cleaned her from her fish flesh and blood and cuddled her body when the moon rose white and full in the night.

His eyes were heavy when she started to move in her sleep. Her eyes were now human when she looked at him.

“I thought you were about to die”.

She frowned.

“What happened to you?”

“I need the sea every full moon, I need to be me”.

“Does it hurt?”

She nodded.

“I thought you were to leave me alone” he whispered, eyes closed, and heart opened, the words came out of his lips like a confession. You’re the only thing I got now, I won’t survive without you, why did you kiss me?

She cuddled next to him, he felt her warm body against him and her hand on his cheek, collecting the tears he didn’t know he was crying.

“Joel” he didn’t open his eyes” I’m here”.

When still hid his face, she came closer, search for his face and his eyes until he did. The siren, now girl, was as beautiful as the moon, perfect and warm smile, under him, naked. He felt his cheeks burn in thoughts he should maybe not have. But she closed the distance even more, rose on her elbows to be face to face, lips so close he could feel her breath. “I’m here”

The kiss was innocent as first, as sweet and pure as the one she had given in the morning. But soon he was biting her lips, invading her mouth with his tongue, biting her chin and her neck, her breasts.

He kissed her stomach, reverently caressing her new skin, the human skin she had changed for him, grabbed her hips, the bones she had cracked for him, to walk with him in this forgotten place and he opened her legs and kissed each of her knees before kneeling between them. She let her legs fall on the clothes of the dead men, revelling her sex. Joel kissed and drank from her opening pink lips. The siren sighed, tugged his hair hard and harder the more he kissed and sucked at her, he felt her legs tremble and shake and smiled. He had forgotten the beauty and the taste of the pleasure of a woman, not only a random woman in nameless bar, drunk on pain and whisky. This girl was made for him, was only his, they were alone in the world.

He kissed her blissful face still gasping and heavy breathing. Joel pushed her legs around his hips and penetrate her with a shallow push, held her head in his hands. Mine, mine, he thought the more he felt her cunt pulling him in.

————————————————————————

Mother said they love differently than us, that men take and take until soon they were kings in the land. My sisters that had already passed through this warned me about their fear: “Fear will turn them violent” they said. And so, I tried to make him delicate with me. I sang when he was sad, I hugged his body with mine. I saw how his eyes roam my body and how they shine when I say his name.

How he cried because I hurt, how he awaited on the shore for me. How he touched my new skin and how his hunger started.

But they didn’t tell me about what was going to happen to us, to our bodies. Joel kissed me and at first his beard, coarse on my skin, was all I could think of, but his lips were soft, he bit my lips and it awaken something in me. His hands were not soft either, and this new body is too delicate, this skin too thin and sensitive, I felt my hairs tensing on my arms on my legs and my nape when he kissed my breasts. I felt elated, floating in the air, spiralling so fast when he kissed me between my legs. He pushed me to the feeling when I tried to flee. I tried to get him off me, but my hands wanted to ask for more. Such sweet contradiction.

I felt my legs tremble, my stomach tight, so tight I thought this body was again turning into something new. And then, he let me fall. His eyes were dark when he grabbed my face, pressed his weight over me, I couldn’t move and was so tired and expectant. He pierced my body, and it was harsh and sweet as his kisses. He pushed inside of me, again and again, touched something inside that hurt and made my belly tight again, my legs ache on his hips. His warm breath on my neck, the sand harsh against my back as shark’s skin and I just tried to focus on the white walls of the cave, to centre myself before falling again. I heard him say something over his moans, but I couldn't tell.

He spilled inside me with two finals hard push and fell to the side, one of his hands still on my cheek.

When I rose, I felt tired and my body ached, my thighs were sticky, his sweat and mine, his semen and my blood. I touched my cunt, swollen, sensitive and full of him. My fingers gathered some of my wetness, reddish and warm still from us.

“Oh no” Joel rose immediately when he saw my hand, turned my palm to him. “Oh no, lord, I’m sorry” I didn’t know why he apologise, but he kissed me again, on my shoulders and on my face “I hurt you” he said when I looked at him puzzled. “Does it hurt?” He placed his palm over my sex and I flinched.

“I didn’t think… you have just turned I” his cheeks were red and he brushed his wet hair back “I didn’t mean to hurt you, honey”.

He grabbed my bloody fingers and kissed them. He didn’t care it stained his lips and his face.

I kissed him how he did to me. Open mouth, tasting him with my tongue. He cleaned me softly and threw his shirt over me.

I slept tired, aching, sedated and wanting him more. Joel woke me up with a shell, a purple one, just like I did days ago when he stopped talking.

“It’s for you” he had pierced in the middle and passed a cord of fibre of the black trees of the isle to make a collar. Joel slept beside me that night, covered me with his body, at first, he didn’t move, he didn’t try to do it again. But the moon was clear and round in the sky. I could see the shadows it created on his face, and it was beautiful.

I touched him, his bare chest, golden for the sun, he had scars, the skin whiter and taunt there. He had sparse hair there, thicker on his belly and over his cock. I touched him without knowing how and he sighed, I followed on his legs, strong the muscles under his thighs were evident even if he was asleep. I wished my legs were like that, see what they can do, how fast I could be, how other grounds will feel on my feet. I was mesmerised by him, and I didn’t realise he had woken up.

“Can you walk fast?” I asked.

“Do you mean run?” I nodded. “Well, not like I used to, honey.”

“What is honey?” I wondered

“Honey? It is something sweet, like you” He smiled and let me roam his body, his calves until his feet.

“Why did you save me?” He asked after the silence had filled our cave

I looked at the moon, it was as full as it was the day I saw him. Why him? I don’t know, he found the conch, he was stronger.

“The tides brought me to you” I answered to let it rest, as it was much happenstance as it was fate, his and mine.

“But now, on this isle… why?”

I looked at his dark eyes fixed on mines

“ I wanted to know “

“To know what?”

What would my mother do? My sisters? Did they allow these questions? It was a full moon already, recovering had already taken so much time, and I hadn’t completed the mission

“To know you” it was a almost a lie, a half truth.

“Have you met another man?” I saw the answer he wanted in his eyes.

“No. The other men were dead” I saw his gaze dropping to their clothes

“Did they make it to the isle?”

I shook my head as he did when he refused eating. “They were dead, their bodies floated to the coast I sent them back to the sea”

“Why?”

“They do not serve a purpose here” you and me, we do, I thought. You were barely alive I could save you, you could save me.

He looked at me as if he was trying to dissect me, I know my mother and sister told me that humans need to understand that they ask too many questions and they can hurt anything just trying to understand. I knew Joel could tear me apart. But I wanted to know too.

“How did you learn to speak to me if you haven’t met other people?”

“We learn fast” I said, we need to survive, we do what we can. I’m young and there are so many things I don’t know and my family told me to come here, and I do not know if it’s working.

“You certainly do, honey” his hand touched mine, he intertwined his fingers to mine, his skin was rugged and scarred, mine was too new I could feel the difference texture of his, that spoke of hardship and the life on earth.

He took my hand and kissed my palm. He rubbed it on his cheek, how soft he could be being so harsh and bigger than me. I took his hand and did the same, he kissed me then, much gentler than before, he let me open my mouth to him at my own pace, he let me touch his body and his scars. I found one near his left temple, the only one that he refused my hand “does it hurt still?” I asked and his eyes shone in the dark of our cave

“Yes, it refuses to heal”  

I kissed it softly waiting for him to push me off, but he didn’t. Joel closed his eyes, his skin wrinkled around them, I trailed down to his mouth.

He caressed me with the tip of his fingers, down my back, my thighs and legs as I had done.

“I will teach you how to run if you wish to “

Joel let me discover his body pulling me on top of his, how his muscles flexed, how his skin tasted. I felt him harden under me, and he let me go at my own pace, he just showed me how to touch his sex, how the stickiness I felt was needed for us to joint, how my body tensed and the fever started by rubbing the top of mine, I let him in slowly watching how his eyes closed and his sighed relaxed. Joel put his hands over my hips and softly moved me like the waves. It was slowed this time, I wanted to see every moment, every breath he took, how his eyes grew dark and feverish, his hands were impatient the more I took, I crashed in him and our breaths resonated in our cave, my body tremble but now I knew I was not falling that Joel will catch me and he did. He kissed my temple and my face caressed my back and my hips, I was sweating, shining and it felt like a dream.

“You’re so sweet to me”

Sweet.

“You’re so beautiful, honey”

Beautiful.

I didn’t know what they meant, but I knew he was also sweet and beautiful to me. I didn’t not want this to end.

She slept on top of him for half of the day, her skin was softly covered in sweat and his. He had thrusted his hip to hers for a few more times. She let him grab her hips open her more. He fucked himself deep into her and she watched him, brow furrowed and lips ajar.

“So sweat, such a good girl”

Joel avoid thinking that she wasn’t exactly a girl or she wasn’t at first. All that existed was this cave, the sea and the heaven between her legs.

He was so drunk in her he had pushed her hips to him, a hand to her back to pull her to his chest as he could carved his chest open and let her nest inside. She bit his chest to control her whines as he pushed more and more until he spilled once more, not thinking, not even minding that she had cut his skin. With bloody lips she smiled satisfied.

He had tried to push her to the side or get out of her but she slapped his hands when Joel tried to.

Once the sun was high in the cloudy sky, she woke.

“Hungry?”

“Yes, but let’s find something else than raw fish?”

Joel though about putting back on the warm sweatpants and undershirt he had wore the night of the wreckage but the girl had just got out naked of the cave and he thought it was silly to cover. They walked around the island. Joel found fruits he hadn’t seen before once he explore being so focused on a way out. On the top of the hill he had once climbed he found a tree with long roots that look strong enough to thread.

He created a small bundle with leaves and carried the food he had found.

“We’ll eat and then I teach you how to run”

She made a grimace when she tasted the fruits, Joel would agree they weren’t the best one, he would’ve loved to give her strawberries and grapes, maybe oranges and sweet peaches.

“Fish is better” she said agreeing to eat but still making a disgusted face.

“I agree this is not the best”

Joel wanted to know more about her and also keep living in this fantasy where she was real and he was somehow the happiest he had been in years, Joel has casted the world away but it had kept coming back now the world had finally let him out. But thinking about knowing more about what she was about how she could even exist made all this dream crumble down.

“What’s your name?”

She looked confused.

“Mine is Joel. You must have one”

“I don’t know “

“You don’t know it?”

“I think we don’t have one”

“On how you call…” he left the words roam in his tongue. Were there more of her? Did she have a family?

He looked at the immense sea before him, the shades of blue and white foam kissing his feet. There must have been more.

“You can give me one” she finally said “call me how you like”

“ I will think about it” he agreed “come on up, it’s time to run”

She lighted up, smiling widely.

Joel started walking on the firm sand faster and faster and she followed watching intently his legs when they started lifting the sand as he grew faster. She giggled though she had less control of her legs at this speed.

She tried to keep up to him grinning widely, chest heaving.

“C’mon, are you going to let an old man win?” He joked

She tried to rush but stumbled with the dry algae on the shore. Joel stopped and came back to her worried. But she laughed still, a delicate hand on her chest. 

“Are you okay?”

“I like running” she giggled. Joel thought his heart exploded. It’s been years maybe an eternity, maybe another life or world since he had made somebody else happy. He felt his own smile on his face like dormant muscles waking up, finding new places in him that were dead. 

The air carried the salt from the sea, the scent of it everywhere from the sand to the algae and the trees and her. His girl, all new and made for him, an apparition in the darkness, his savior in so many ways he could not explain. 

Joel thought she had never been more beautiful that in that moment, the sunset shining on the transpiration on her skin, her joyful laugh, from her belly to her lovely teeth. 

What was miles away wasn’t real, this was, his broken life and heart had drowned in the sea.

the mermaid had picked up a corpse of a man, a carcass and she had breathed life into him.

“We will run as much as you want then”

The girl stood and threw herself into him, still smiling and heavy breathing she let him hold her by the waist back to their cave. 

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Joel taught me so many things. Running was the happiest I’ve felt, my body fills with air and it burns my chest, but I feel my legs hitting the ground carrying me farther and farther, and this laugh it comes all the way up and I cannot stop. 

Joel taught me that he likes to eat other things rather than fish. Every thing here taste too much like earth, warm and sticky. The fruits Joel found were sweet, they get stuck on the back of my teeth and its juices stay for hours on my lips, Joel taught me that’s exactly how sweet things are, like honey, like me. It stays with you. 

He is gentler with me now, delicate, he insisted in carrying some of the trees’ leaves, he split them to threads and took the fishes bones to thread them. When is not working on whatever he’s doing, we lay together. 

He talks to me about his life on land, told me he made things, houses.

What are houses?

Like this cave, he answered 

A place to live. 

He told me about Sarah. 

It was an accident, she was just on our yard and then…she was gone. I could not be home anymore. 

I sing when he gets sad or I kiss him. The way he taught me. I open myself to him. 

I’m not afraid of falling anymore, I embrace this body and how sensitive it is, Joel knows every place he needs to touch to make me spiral and he shows me what I can do for him too. 

I kiss his face, his chest, listen to his heart as he falls asleep. And the moon is starting to disappear, I do not have time. 

The most amazing thing he has showed me it’s fire. He collected some black stones that cut the flesh of fish so smoothly and he showed me how smashing them together, heat appeared. He blew air into it and the light emerged. I gasped and he laughed.

No more raw fish, he promised although I don’t know if that’s good.

He took my hand and at first I pushed him away.

Don’t you trust me?

I was brave and I let him guide my hand to it, it was warm, as warm as Joel. I know I understand. 

Joel is fire and I’m water, Joel is the ground where I ran and the sun that hit my skin and I’ve been cold my whole life, the colours here are brown as his eyes and hair, golden as the sun and the embers of the fire he creates, my skin was cold and slippery as a fish until he got me. This body was made for him, in his image and one day I’ll be back to being cold and being water, slippery in his hands.

“Do you like it?” 

We made love in a no longer dark cave. The cold light of the moon mixed with the warm of the fire just as the two of us were joined, I sat on him, hugged his body, him so deep in mine, he grabbed my head and kissed me, blew breath into my lips in words of love I don’t understand but feel.

My sweet sweet girl all mine 

The next morning I felt it.

Joel said that fire was the thing that made humans evolve. It birthed society and power. 

And now I felt it, inside of me, growing fast as we learned to do, to survive. My mission is completed. And mother and sisters warned me, once it is done, I have to get back. 

I let him sleep for a few hours more, wondering how to cut this thread in my new bones and organs that tights me to him. He wakes up, no longer in nightmares but with a smile looking at me. He sees my tears and holds me immediately. His eyes search mine his big hands holding my head searching for the answer to my sorrow. 

What’s wrong my sweet girl?

I cry harder, I wail for my fate, for the ocean and its rules, for my mother and sister and for him. He tries to calm me, rocks me softly as the sea. And then

“If I ever were to lose you

I'd surely lose myself

Everything I have found dear

I've not found by myself

Try and sometimes you'll succeed

To make this man of me

All my stolen missing parts

I've no need for anymore

I believe

And I believe 'cause I can see

Our future days

Days of you and me

Back when I was feeling broken

I focused on a prayer

You came deep as any ocean

Did something out there hear?

All the complexities and games

No one wins, but somehow, they're still played

All the missing crooked hearts

They may die, but in us they live on

His voice is deep as the ocean roars, I feel the air coming out of his lungs and his heart beating.

I stopped crying and he hums in my ear, I feel his smile “better now? You sang to me on the first day, you healed me” 

I said yes, but I lied. I never felt this, just the opposite of being made so full as he has done. I feel empty, a dark and cold pit has opened inside of me as the ones in the sea bottom. 

He tried to let me down and I held to him fiercely. “I’m not going anywhere, just going to finish our bed” 

“Do you know what a bed is?”

I shake my head

“ we are going to sleep somewhere comfortable, soft and not on sand and some dead men clothes. Maybe I can thread enough of this roots and leaves and make clothes, or a blanket. I don’t know if the weather will always be like this here” 

“Do you want to stay here?” I asked

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t you want to come back…home?”

He looks puzzled, his eyes wondering around my face.

“I have no home but here, but you “

I hold my breath, push back the tears until my eyes burn. 

Joel doesn’t understand what has come over her. But she holds her body over his while he’s threading and when he lights the fire. He calls her little monkey but she doesn’t know what they are. 

She is kissing him deep as soon as the sun sets, lays on the sand and opens her legs “please Joel” 

He feels his knees cracking, his back is killing him but he lays on top of her, kisses her from her forehead to her breast, bites her soft skin as he did the first day, open her pink lips, drinking his sweet girl until her legs closed around his head trembling. Joel sighed as he was pull inside her.

“So perfect” he praised, his hands roam the body of his savior, of his lifeline. Words of love got stuck on his tongue, not yet forming he kissed her. 

The slumber found him fast as each night since he was stranded in this island, a deep dream of water and peace. 

He woke up when the light of the first rays hit his eyes. He was cold, the weight of her not as usual on top of him, curled under his arm. He touched the bed around him, she was not there. 

He waited, maybe she grew hungry. But she didn’t come back. Joel started pacing around the beach, the footprints of her feet disappeared with the waves and Joel wondered if she had to be back temporarily. But at sunset, she was not there. He screamed and howled at the moon, he then knew she would not be back, Joel knew she cried for that, he was alone again in the dark far away from anybody. He cried for her until the sun came back.

“Please come back” he whispered, he cried and howled. 

Joel waited until the next sunset until he decided that what the bullet couldn’t achieve years ago, the mighty cliff in the island could, he climbed as the lights of day were dimmed, when a white bright light shone in the vast darkness of the sea.

 A ship. 

He ran, his feet bleeding for the climb on naked feet, cuts on his face from the foliage.  He got shore when they were close scanning with lights on the beach.

The survivor of the Perseus 2 was a miracle. Every newspaper, tv news and video on social media talked about it. How Joel Miller, 45 years old, was found almost two months after the wreckage and disappearing of his ship. The coast guards of many countries had already abandoned the search when a similar boat that went through the same route started finding signs of the wreckage like small bread crumbs on the sea till a tiny isle appeared in the middle of nowhere. Despise being labeled inhabitable centuries back, Joel miller survived and was found in great condition. He didn’t speak for days in the ship, he only insisted in getting in the boat after he had returned to the cave where he had been taken refuge, he didn’t let any other man in. He came back with a pink conch and it is the only thing he carry with himself from that experience. He was left in Texas and didn’t give any interview even if every body wanted his testimony.

Tommy miller picked his brother from the port after years of having no news of him. He found out his brother was officially missing once the Perseus didn’t make it to the next port they were expected to. For two months he wondered how he could go on knowing he had never made peace with him. Until the sea opened up and returned his brother. Tommy Miller didn’t say the things he had rehearsed:

Why did you leave me?

Why didn’t you call me?

Tell me where you went

How did you survive?

He just hugged him.

Now he receives a postcard each month and presents for his baby and his wife Maria, his brother goes to Wyoming for holidays and it’s getting use to texting, e-mails and social media.

Tommy hasn’t asked why but his brother decided to live by the sea. On a cliff to an open ocean, build a house with big windows that only look at the deep blue. And what’s weirder, he has boat, and sails, even has gotten back to sea to that remote part of the world from time to time. 

But he’s happy, open and that’s what counts.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He is somebody in that little town, he has made a name for himself, he made the bar counter at the pub he goes every night, a bright and big wooden bar that has already some beer stains prove of so many fun nights of the people’s town. He caresses the wood feeling a sense of pride he has not felt in a long time. He gets a pat on the back and warm smiles from his neighbors, Chris and his little brother who needed a new roof, Tess that needed help with her house repairs after her husband left, bill and frank the pub owners that invite him every night even if he was paid generously for the job.

But every night Joel Miller walks by the sea alone, listening to it and sleeps with the windows open to it, wondering if she will be back. Not in flesh as he mostly thinks now she was a vision, a way of coping, he survived by himself, his brain created that perfect creature to save him, to cure his loneliness. But he still wonders if he can conjure her back to life in his dreams. But nothing comes but the sighs and waves of the sea.

Eventually, he almost forgets and gets a little life, a shop where he sells his wood art and guitars, and offers his hands to whoever needs it. Invites Tess from time to time to coffee and takes her to proper dates. Flights to Wyoming and holds his niece, only sometimes he finds himself by the window touching without realizing it that pink shell that it’s almost now just a decorative item.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sometime when he dreams he feels itm the dark fingers of the sea creeping in his lungs, being lost inside the dark mouth of the ocean and a silver ray swimming towards him. A smile full of blood and flesh of fish, a supple body under him, the sand on his feet. Can it be true?

It was a dream that fade away with the last sip of coffee every morning, sometimes he wouldn’t even remember that he dreamed of it again passed a few minutes. Sometimes he finds himself lost looking at the sea, the waves crushing furiously close to his house. Why did he want to live here? Why was he so adamant to leave the sea?

He had lost something he thinks but he cannot quite put a word for it and the shell lays in his hands without noticing he has pick it up. 

Sometimes the sea brings a song with breeze, a murmur so soft and sad, and when he doesn’t realize it he walks up to the beach beside his house. Since Tess moved he doesn't roam around the beach like that that much and he doesn’t hear it often.

“Joel?” he feels Tess hands embracing him from the back

“Hmm?” 

“I asked you where do you find it?” She has the pink shell in her hand, inspecting it

“I…”

He tries hard to remember, the boat, the men that died, the girl, was it a girl? He remembers a laugh, shiny and delicate like tiny bells, he remembers the cold and chewy flesh of the fish still on his tongue and her kiss, the first one when he was dying biting his lips, no, it was not a girl then, it was…that couldn’t be true. He must have lost oxygen after the wreckage, he must have been dehydrated and disoriented on a tiny isle. There was no girl, he was alone.

“Are you alright?” she looks concerned at him and puts the shell on its place where it serves as a reminder of his survival, how did he do it? He dares not say 

“It was a gift” he finally say 

His eyes wonder on the horizon searching for something he does not even have a word for. The old Joel died on that isle, tore his flesh and bone to become something new, when he arrived at this town he was empty now he had a full house of life and love. His eyes become glassy looking at the waves crushing and although he doesn’t remember what he looks for he is thankful for it.

Deep in those waters, oceans away where the light of the sun does not reach, a siren sings a song about the man he met and had to abandon about the miles she swam to try to save him even her mission was already completed, a baby was inside of her that would ensure the future of her species, she had, as mother had told her, just to make sure the conception happened the soul of the man was irrelevant. But she saved him in more ways than she knows in the deep sea. 

Author's note:

This is sooo long I'm sorry, if you've arrived here first of all thank you, I know this is a weird fic but I hope you like it, if you do, please reblog it's the only way this site works.

*Mangata : the glimmering, roadlike reflection of the moonlight in the water.

[straykits]

[ waltz for two / bang chan ]

ie. three times chan really wanted to tell you he loves you and the one time he does. (reverting to this style of fic bc i actually really like it lol) a/n: title has one (1) maybe two (2) things to do with the actual fic. three if you squint. point is, it's not important. chose it bc it was the second first thing to come to mind // in the wise words of ao3, please see the end of the work for more notes. w/c: 2.3k tags: friends to lovers (maybe??? idk u choose ur own interpretation ig), lots fluff, small angst and comfort c/w: mild (?) descriptions/implications of dissociation and negative thoughts; mentions of alcohol oki enjoy the piece my dudes <3

one;

your name rings out into the still of chan’s apartment, the question mark hovering in the hall where he stood. he wouldn’t have even known you were here, if not for your shoes by the door.

the apartment is cold, the evening air having found a home in the empty space. there's no sign of you on the couch, or in the kitchen. the balcony is empty too - a favourite place for the both of you during the sunset hours when the city is painted in hues of red and gold. it was well past sunset now, the city instead bathed in evening’s blues.

if you weren’t in these places, then that leaves one more - because there was no way you were in the laundry or in the bathroom, right?

chan makes his way to his bedroom, feet padding across the floor with only the soft shuffle of socks against the laminated surface indicating his presence. he drops his backpack on the dining table as he passes by it, being careful as to not make too much noise..

the bedroom door is slightly ajar, revealing a sliver of the dark bedroom inside. he pushes the door open gently and your name leaves his lips with hope on its tail.

even in the dark room, he could tell it was you on his bed.

you’re asleep with a hand under your chin, another between your legs. why you had fallen asleep atop the covers instead of under, he didn’t really know.

he sits on the floor by the head of the bed and for a moment, all he can do is watch you. he rests his elbow on the mattress and his head on his arm, and watches. the careful, rhythmic rise and fall of your body. the way your lashes flutter just that much whilst your eyes dart behind your eyelids.

how long, he muses, could he keep doing this before it got weird? better to wake you now than have you wake and find him staring at you.

he pats your arm; once, twice. you only let out a low moan. your brows furrow ad body curls up more. a breath of laughter escapes him, and he tries again to wake you. this time, he reaches for your arm, rubbing gentle circles into your inner wrist.

“y/n,” he whispers. “y/n, i’m home. have you had dinner yet?”

the large inhale you take lets him know that you’re awake. he pulls his hand back, leans back altogether - no need to be so close, after all.

you raise the hand under your chin to rub your eyes, scratch your cheek - it's endearing, so endearing.

i love you, he thinks, and the thought is as new to him as the way you blink wearily as your eyes adjust to the dark. it’s as new to him as the way you let out a tired groan, pulling your whole body into a ball - and that’s to say it’s not new at all, because after so many years of friendship, he knew your habits and the things you do when you wake up. after so many years of friendship, the thought had taken residency in his brain the way the evening air had in his apartment, or the way the sun’s golden rays had across the cityscape.

“chan?” you stifle a yawn behind your hand and just when he thinks you’re about to get up, you close your eyes again, a tired smile falling on your lips as you snuggle back into his pillow. “welcome home.”

two;

he finds you on your couch, gazing at the coffee table without really seeing.

he knows that dazed look on you, knows that slight furrow of the brows and the tightness of your hands. he knows that you know he’s here from the way your head cocks towards the sound of his footsteps, the sound of your name. your eyes stay unseeing.

the sofa dips and you sway towards him when he takes a seat on the couch, facing you. you welcome the movement and the way it breaks your daze. chan extends an arm as you let your body continue to fall, and then he’s holding you against him.

“you okay?” a silly question, but it was a start.

the silence that surrounds the two of you is filled only by the static of the fridge in the kitchen, it’s electric buzz audible despite the distance. he can feel you take deep breaths, feel every exhale warm his chest.

“sorry, chan, i don’t think we can do movie night today.”

he shrugs, holds you tighter. what does it matter if plans change?

“you don’t need to stay. i’ll be okay later, but i- i don’t want you to stay here for no reason.”

he lets out a chuckle. “no, i’ll stay. of course i’ll stay.”

because i love you, he thinks, but the words are caught in his throat and something about the situation made him think that no, this wasn’t the time to confess his feelings, even if he meant well and wanted to help you with those words.

he knows that sometimes it’s not always a matter of making you feel better. sometimes it’s just a matter of being there for you, and sometimes that will be enough.

for however long he loves you, he’ll be there for you.

“when you’re ready, and if you want to, we can talk about what’s going on.”

“it’s just the same-”

“even if it’s just the same things as before.”

his heart is heavy with the pain of seeing you like this. his heart is heavy with the love he carries for you. his heart is heavy with his inability to make it all go away with a click of his fingers - if only it was that easy. one could wish, he supposes, but not all wishes can be fulfilled.

it’s not the first time he’s seen you like this, and it probably won’t be the last, but he’s okay with that. he wishes it was the last, of course, but chan knows that change takes time and he knows that loving you means loving all the versions of you, not just the versions that make him smile, or the ones that reassure him, or the ones that make him laugh (though he loves these ones immensely, too).

loving you means being on your side when your own brain is your biggest enemy. loving you means standing his ground about the fact that you are lovable and you are important and you do matter, even when you can’t stop thinking that you aren’t. loving you means being atlas, sometimes, and carrying the weight of your world for you so that you don’t need to do it alone.

for however long he loves you, he’ll make sure you’re not carrying your burdens alone.

three;

after-dinner walks with you are one of the things chan cherishes the most. the kiss of evening on his cheeks, your presence by his side as the two of you walk down streets lit by the yellow lights from the restaurants, the way you occasionally brush each other.

on this particular friday night, after a well-deserved dinner and a glass or two of wine, you’d decided to go on a stroll through the city and god was chan was glad he’d agreed to the aimless stroll.

if he were to recount this evening to someone else, they would probably be surprised that he hadn’t noticed the music until you’d pointed it out. following the sound, you’d found a small circle of people surrounding a performer- a guitarist, open case at their feet, mic stand raised to their height, and fingers playing the chords to a familiar song as they sang. a ring of fairy lights surrounded them, adding a wistfully magical atmosphere to the cold evening.

people were smiling, waving their phones with their flashlights on, and in the middle of the circle, people were dancing. children and adults, friends and lovers. it was a beautiful scene, but not quite as beautiful as your face lighting up as you pull him into the middle as well.

you’re pulling his hands out of his pocket and he thought he would mind the cold but it’s not so bad when your hands are in his and you’re smiling up at him. he’s being pulled along by your eyes your lips, the gentle swaying from side to side that he quickly matches. it’s magical, it’s blissful, its euphoric. he’s laughing at the enjoyment in your eyes, at the way you cheer when the busker finishes one song and moves onto another - one, two, three; one, two, three.

you’re holding onto each other’s elbows - not exactly the most intimate thing, or nearly the most romantic, but you’re rocking side to side together and there’s nowhere else that chan would rather be on this friday night, because-

because god he loves you so much - its all he can think about as the final chords of the outro play, as adlibs rise like adrenaline in chan’s veins because he wants to kiss you so bad right now and he doesn’t even care that there are people around but- but he does care what you think and maybe this isn’t the way to do it.

so as the song comes to a close, chan pulls you in and he might be smothering you with his jacket but he doesn’t care - if he looks at you any longer, his feelings would physically manifest and he doesn't know what he would do if that were to happen.

“chan?” your voice is muffled against his puffer, confusion and laughter softened against his chest.

“your face looked cold.” it’s a half truth to cover up the bigger lie.

“well,” you mumble, “it’s a good thing you’re warm.”

when you wrap your arms around him, the crowd applauds - at the two of you or at the performer, he doesn’t know.

and to be quite honest, he doesn’t care.

one;

you’d both fallen asleep with the curtains half opened - it had been too dark outside, too late in the night, the weariness of the day’s fun too heavy, that neither of you had realised the curtains weren’t fully closed.

not that it was a major problem, being three floors up, but it did make for an early rise.

chan finds his face closer to yours than he would have liked, though he confess the sight wasn’t too bad a thing to wake up to.

in the past, perhaps, he would have had no reservations, no worries about being so close to you in bed - but years of friendship had matured like wine, had left an aftertaste in his mouth that he was still trying to figure out if he enjoyed or not, if he wanted more or not.

no, he knew he wanted more, and that was what scared him. what if a bit more was actually too much? he didn’t know his limits, not with something like this. he didn’t know your limits. it was risky, was like drinking for the first time - the consequences didn’t quite hit until they hit. he could have a sip, have three, five, could be enjoying it all until suddenly it was too late-

rustling sheets pull him back to the present.

“chan?”

he’s reminded of an evening long past, as you rub your eyes. your gazes meet, but the fragility of tension is barely present this many years into the friendship.

“what are you thinking about, so early in the morning?”

a rhetorical question, perhaps, but the sunlight dancing on the wall behind you and the warmth under the covers and the innocent curiosity in your eyes pulls the words out of him.

“that i love you,” he says.

it’s… not as cathartic as he thought it would be but it’s enough.

it brings the dancing sunlight and gentle rise and fall of your body to a standstill. it brings the ticking clocks in his room and the saturday morning traffic outside his apartment to a mute. it brings his heart’s bpm from an andante to a moderato, an allegretto; he can hear it in his ears, feel it in his chest. the disjointment between his internal and external world almost sends his mind into momentary panic.

but you smile an angel’s smile, and he doesn’t quite understand what it means yet but he knows it’ll be alright.

“i know.”

for a moment, he thinks that those two words were all you had to say in reply. his mind dances on the line between friends and more (whatever that is, at this point) and whilst he can’t deny the existence of the slight disappointment in him, he’s grateful that nothing has changed.

until- until things do change.

“me too.” you pull the blankets up to your chin, curl up closer to him like you had so long ago when you were both younger with neither questioning the relationship. “i love you too.”

in some other universe, he might have disregarded your words as nothing more than ones of friendship - you both knew you loved each other as friends do, as you always had. but in this universe, he grasps onto the way you’ve practically buried your head into his chest. he grasps onto the warmth of your body, so early in the morning, so close to his. he grasps onto the slight shake in your voice, the way you had breathed out the words like a confession.

“okay,” he whispers into the crown of your head, arms almost shaking in disbelief as they settle around your body and draw you closer. “okay.”

—

a/n: scene 3 is inspired by this!! also, anyways, i havent written anything outside of academic work and evening star in so long that im surprised this even... ended up finished LMAO but ye i hope this was an okay read, if not enjoyable! gentle reminder that interactions of any kind will make my heart soar <3

[enjoy-the-butterf1ies]

Everywhere, Everything-

CL16 (Chapter 3/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc × female!reader

Series Summary: In which a rising singer gets her biggest break yet; opening at the Austin Grand Prix. All record companies would have their eyes on her- along with a certain monegasque driver.

Trope: Slow burn with a mix of other tropes in there (He fell first, one bed, roommates, all the good ones!)

Chapter Summary: An early morning with Charles almost makes you forget you had to go back home later that day. Or did you?

Warnings: Cussing, Y/N is oblivious, probably typos 🫣

The sun peaking through the hotel window agonizingly awoke you from your slumber. How cruel of the sun it is to rise so early every morning, you thought. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you attempted to sit up with blurry vision, but failed.

You were never a morning person.

You could recall all the times your friends would wake you up at sleepovers- at lunchtime. They knew better than to speak to you before noon, at the very least. Groaning, you turned to check the time on your phone. Yep. 10 am. Just as you thought, way too early. At least for a night owl such as yourself.

Flashbacks from the night before quickly flooded your head. “Holy shit,” You mumbled to yourself. Yesterday felt like a dream, one you never wanted to awake from. Everything from playing in front of thousands of people to sleeping in a strangers hotel room seemed like a cruel drug induced vision. Luckily for you (and probably your health) it was a very real experience. The nearby couch with discarded blankets and pillows confirmed that for you.

Only thing missing was Charles; where could he be at a time like this?

You wiped your eyes once again, still groggy and longing for a nap. Surely you could sleep for another 30 minutes… or 2 hours…

That pleasant thought was soon interrupted by Charles unpleasantly walking into the hotel room. You could tell he tried to be quiet by opening the door slowly, but your blood still boiled at the sound of his footsteps. You turned to glare at him. You couldn’t help it.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t wake you up did I?” He said, frantically setting down all of his bags. His eyebrows furrowed together in guilt.

“Mm-mm.” You muttered, shaking your head. Well, barely. You were too lazy to shake completely.

Charles sighed. “Good, I got breakfast,” He offered, holding up a white bag with a delicious aroma radiating from it. The scent surrounded you, even from your position on the bed. Your stomach growled in protest. “I had interviews all morning, barely made it to the bakery before they closed for breakfast. Damn, I really rushed.”

You pushed yourself to sit up. You knew looked a mess but you couldn’t possibly care about that when you were so hungry. “Mm food,” Was all you mumbled. You weakly held out your hand, squinting your blurry eyes. Charles exploded into laugher. He tried to stop it, but the sight of you with bed head and exhausted expression was too much. You pouted. “What’s your issue frenchie?” Your morning voice cracked. Charles cackled harder at that.

“Not a morning person, huh?” He chuckled out, setting the food on the bed next to you. You dived directly into it, not even answering his question. Charles watched in admiration as you hungrily found a buttery pastry and smiled at the sight. Just what you needed. You tapped the spot on the bed next to you, motioning for him to sit down. He hesitantly sat down on the bed making sure to keep a respectable distance; he didn’t want to risk making you even slightly uncomfortable. You handed him a croissant in silence. “Thank you,” He said. You nodded, taking a bite of your pastry. You gave a thumbs up to him, a signal that it was very good.

Charles was sure he had died and went to heaven. To the normal eye this would seem like a very strange scenario- Sitting in silence with a grumpy girl who would rather focus on shoving a croissant in her mouth than have a conversation with him. But to Charles, it was the most perfect scenario. You looked so cute in your sleepy state and he would rather spend years in silence with you than to have never met you at all.

Or maybe he was going insane.

“Not a morning person,” You finally mumbled, popping the last bite of food into your mouth. You took a swig of coffee Charles had picked up as well. “I get very grumpy when the sun comes up… Thank you for breakfast.” You felt a little sheepish at the way you acted when he first arrived this morning.

Charles smiled softly. “No worries,” He said. “Reminds me of your song ‘Sunrise’ and the line about hating mornings- didn’t know how honest that was.”

Your eyes widened, taken aback. “You listened to that song??” You stuttered. And he remembered that line too? What is with this guy? He nodded happily to your question. “Wow- I- That’s so awesome.”

“I really think you’re meant to be a star, Y/N.” He stated confidently.

“Thank you Charles, it’s been a really long road. I still remember making songs in my moms closet as a 7 year old, hopefully one day I can make songs in my own record studio.” You laughed at the memory. You were a big dreamer. Always had been.

“You’re gonna get there one day, mark my words.” He said. You smiled at him, hands tightening around the cup. You were a little nervous under his gaze but didn’t know why. You pushed the feeling down.

“I’m not sure about that, after today I don’t have much going for me,” You said regretfully. He lifted a brow in confusion. “I’m just returning home to play the same old gigs in the same old bars. I would love nothing more than to continue playing in front of thousands of people- but that’s not realistic.”

Charles was in shock. “What??” He stood up from the bed. He honestly hadn’t even thought about you leaving soon. He hated it. “No, that’s not the kickass ‘follow your dreams’ Y/N I talked to last night. You’re gonna go far. You set your sights on your dreams and complete them, remember?”

You blinked at him. “Charles-“

He cut you off. “I have an idea,” He said, a wide smile spreading across his face. “It’s a long shot, but promise me you won’t leave until I get it sorted out.”

You were so confused. You checked your phone. “Charles, my plane leaves in 5 hours.” You protested. He nodded.

“That’s all I need,”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You had one hour to get to your plane in time. And in normal Y/N fashion, you were running late. You pressed your phone in between your ear and shoulder as you hurriedly packed your suitcase.

“There’s a ton of chatter about you on F1 media, but other than that… I’m sorry Y/N.” Diana said through the line. “I know you were hoping to get discovered.”

“Yeah, I set my expectations really high didn’t I?” You chuckled sadly. The thought of returning home empty handed tore at your heart. “And it wasn’t all bad, gained a few more fans, some confidence, and an experience I’ll never forget. Oh, and a new friend.”

“New friend?” Diana smirked. “It wouldn’t happen to be that hunk Leclerc you stayed with last night, would it?”

You rolled your eyes, even though she couldn’t see you. “It’s not like that Di,” You said, very matter of fact. You knew what she was getting at. “Nothing happened, and after today, he’s probably never gonna talk to me again. It was just a really nice thing he did, and very much a one time thing.”

Diana hummed. “Tell that to all of the streaming platforms he followed you on,” She pointed out.

“So, he likes my music? You like my music, doesn’t mean you wanna get in my pants.”

“Yeah well I’m also not a hot ass F1 driver either so-“

“GOODBYE Diana,” You hung up on her, but you knew that wouldn’t be the last time she talked about him. You checked your watch. You definitely had to leave soon if you wanted to get your flight. But the thought of leaving without saying goodbye to Charles felt wrong, especially after how kind he’s been.

He disappeared a few hours ago and hasn’t returned since. You were running out of time to wait. Sighing, you packed up the last of your items and picked up your guitar. Maybe you could DM him over insta to say goodbye, or ask around for his number-

Just then, the door slammed wide open. It almost hit you in the face. “WHOA!” You jumped back in shock. Charles came rushing in, heart beating in his chest but a huge grin on his face. “That’s the second time you almost knocked me out frenchie!!” You yelped. Hidden below your annoyance, you were glad he came back in time.

“Drop your bags,” He said, nearly shaking from excitement. “You don’t have to go home today.”

You were so confused. A million questions went through your mind at once. “What do you mean??” Is the one you decided on. “Charles, I have a plane in 45 minutes!”

He shook his head in a frenzy. “I talked around, got with some big guys and long story short, they said you can continue at playing at Grand Prix for us for the rest of the season,” His smile was miles wide. “I’m talking Mexico, Brazil, Las Vegas, and Abu Dhabi, Y/N. This is your chance to be discovered. A chance to live your dreams.”

Your mouth hung agape. He had to have been joking. There was no way this was happening. You silently swore to kill him if he was pulling your leg. “Charles-“

“I promise you this is very real,” He nodded, almost as if reading your thoughts. You felt emotions you had no idea existed. It was as if a tornado was swirling inside your brain.

“I- I don’t have the money-“

“Not an issue, I will provide you with everything you need,” He said.

You shook your head no. “I can’t ask you to do that, that’s- that’s crazy-“

“Y/N, listen to me. I want to do this. I want you to do this.” He met your gaze with the most honest eyes. Your heart caught in your throat. “You don’t have to take the offer, but if you leave today and get on that plane home-“

“I wouldn’t be following my dreams,” You whispered, looking down. It was all hitting you. Holy shit. This means everything. This could be everything for you. Your entire future, and Charles was holding it in the palm of his hand.

“Please, Y/N,” He nearly begged. It was almost a selfish act, part of him did this so he wouldn’t have to depart from you so soon. But if he could see you achieve your dream, he would die a happy man.

“Charles, are you sure?” You fidgeted, meeting his eyes once again. You gave him a soft smile.

At the sight of the smile, he had never been more sure of anything in his life. “I’m positive,” He nodded.

You covered your mouth with your hands and let out a muffled squeal. You couldn’t help but jump up and down in excitement. “Mexico, here we come!!” You shouted, unable to stop the laughter. Charles joined in chuckling, clapping and grinning wider than you had ever seen. “Can I give you a hug??” You asked, caught up in the moment. For a second your mouth went dry, regretting it. But Charles quickly muttered a small “Of course” and pulled you in for a tight hug. Your heartbeat sped up. “Thank you so much, Charles,” You whispered into his shoulder.

“No, thank you Y/N,” He said with the widest smile you thankfully couldn’t see.