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schemmentigfs · 2 months ago

Note

Req/idea: Melissa wanting to pleasure the reader, but she’s inexperienced with women? (Talking her through it, reassurance, building trust, etc)

Her First Woman’s Touch.

Summary: Melissa goes through a difficult process of self-discovery and acceptance to learn more about intimacy between women, so she can give you pleasure during sex.

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of religious trauma, internalized homophobia, a single slur, body insecurities, smoking, smut. melissa might be out of character sometimes? joe hate club

Notes: This is long, but it’s worth it. 🤍 i wrote it with so much love, so enjoy babies.

Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti wasn’t insecure and vulnerable. She always was the rock of her social circle, the unstoppable woman who could handle anything thrown at her with a steady, unflinching resolve. Her demeanor was tough, marked by a confidence that rarely wavered. But lately, a huge doubt consumed her.

After years of feeling trapped by a label that didn’t define and fit her, she finally came out as a bisexual woman. However, this new freedom came with its own uncertainties. Now, being in a stable four months relationship with you, a more younger, captivating and more experienced soul. Her heart was racing as she thought about how she wanted to please you and be sexually intimate, but her lack of experience with women made her hesitant.

The painful memories of her college years flooded her mind again and again, a time when she had yearned to explore her bisexuality but felt shackled by her upbringing. Her parents, deeply religious, had instilled in her a profound sense of guilt about any feelings that strayed from their beliefs. Melissa always watched with envy as others embraced their identities, while she remained in silence, suppressing who she was. This inner conflict persisted long after graduation, but now, as an adult, it felt heavier than ever.

The memory of her father’s harsh words cut through her like a knife. “You’re going to burn in hell, Melissa Ann!” he shouted, his voice thick with anger and disappointment. “You’re gonna be the black sheep of the Schemmentis. If you don’t stop with those stupid thoughts.” Those horrendous words, once echoing through their small, cluttered kitchen, now reverberated in her mind, haunting her even years later. “Someone corrupted you, that’s not the daughter I raised to make me and your mother proud. Non sei un fottuto frocio!”

A knot tightened in her stomach, a familiar feeling of dread and nausea creeping in as she recalled her traumatic childhood. She remembered the confusion and shame she felt, struggling to understand why she was drawn to both boys and girls. It was a realization she had kept hidden for so long, fearing the wrath and rejection of her family. Every stolen glance, every fleeting crush on a girl, had been tainted with guilt and self–recrimination.

For decades she blamed herself for not being straight. For not fitting into the strict normal mold her family expected her to follow. The fear of condemnation had forced her to hide her true self, living in a constant state of doubt. The burden of carrying her secret had made her feel isolated and alone, as if she were the only one in the world grappling with these feelings.

In her teenage years growing up in a strict devout Catholic household, Melissa would often lock herself in her bedroom, her sanctuary from the outside world, and pray. The room was small, with a crucifix hanging on the wall above her bed, and a small statue of the Virgin Mary on her simple nightstand. The faint scent of incense from morning Mass still lingered in the air. On the days when the weight of her feelings became too much, she would kneel by her bed, clasping her hands tightly together, her knuckles white with tension.

But her prayers often turned into desperate arguments with God. She’d rail against the silence that seemed to mock her suffering. In fits of anger and confusion, she would scream at the crucifix, questioning why she was cursed with desires that didn’t align with the life she had been taught to lead. Melissa was supposed to marry a good healthy man and start a family of her own, wasn’t she?

“Dear Lord, why have you condemned me to this torment?” she cried out, her voice cracking with desperation. “Why have you made me this way? Why can’t you accept me for who I am? Am I so abhorrent in your sight that I must suffer endlessly? Tell me—am I so wrong, so irredeemable in your eyes?”

She paused. “And what about my feelings for both boys and girls? Is it a sin to love them both? Am I to be punished because my heart refuses to choose between them? Why must my own nature be a source of such unending pain? Why can’t you understand that my love for them is just as real, just as genuine, as any other?”

One evening, overwhelmed by the unbearable weight of her internal conflict, Melissa’s deepest frustration reached a boiling point. She hurled a wooden chair across the room, its legs scraping loudly against the floor as it crashed into the wall. The violent act seemed to punctuate her desperation, the chair’s splintering echo a stark contrast to her deep-seated pain.

“Why do you let Pa call me a dyke? Why do you let him say I’m an abomination? You know the pain it causes me! Why do you let him tear me apart inside while Ma pretends nothing’s wrong?”

Her knees buckled as she collapsed to the floor. The coldness of the tiles was a stark contrast to the feverish heat of her anger. One of the holy saints statues, a symbol of her faith, tumbled from its pedestal and shattered, its fragments scattering across the room.

The once serene face was now a mosaic of broken pieces. The porcelain, once pure and whole, now lay in shards, mirroring her own fragmented sense of self. The saint’s broken visage was a stark reminder of the purity that had been tainted by the harsh reality of her suffering.

“No! Not Saint Maria! Nonna’s favorite saint!”

The exhaustion was overwhelming. She felt her limbs growing numb and her head growing heavy. Her vision blurred, and the room spun around her. Despite her attempts to fight it, her body succumbed to the fatigue. Her breaths grew shallower as she drifted closer to unconsciousness.

As she began to lose consciousness, her lips parted, and a whisper escaped her mouth. “I’m just… a failure,” she murmured, voice barely audible. Her depressive words were a final, fragile admission of her internal turmoil. The words were soaked in the weight of her self-loathing and the pain of feeling misunderstood and rejected.

The door creaked open slightly, and Kristin Marie peeked into the old bedroom, her wide eyes searching for her older sister. She saw Melissa sprawled on the floor, her form partially obscured by the scattered shards and a amount of blood. Her innocent curiosity was momentarily replaced by concern, but the sight of her stillness made her stop.

“Sister Mel is sleepy,” she giggled, her words full of poor miscomprehension. The toddler turned to leave, deciding to give her sister the rest she seemed to need. “Play later!”

Hours later, Melissa slowly stirred, her head throbbing with a dull ache. As she tried to sit up, she felt a sticky warmth on her forehead. She reached up, her fingers coming away covered in a faint crimson. Groaning softly, she touched the spot gingerly and winced as the pain intensified.

“Son of a bitch...”

Gazing at the mess and determined to salvage what was left, she carefully gathered the shards of the broken statue, her hands shaking slightly. She meticulously cleaned the pieces, placing them in a small box as though they were precious remnants of something sacred. And pretended that nothing happened. It was now her dirty little secret.

One that Melissa would keep with her until her death.

Every family gathering, every holiday, was a reminder of how different she felt, how she didn't belong. The Schemmentis prided themselves on their strong values, and she felt like an outlier, a blemish on their perfect image. The weight of her father's words and her mother’s neglecting was a constant reminder of the expectations she could never meet the acceptance Melissa feared she would never find. The poor woman’s siblings, although supportive of their sister, stood in silence, afraid of going against their beloved ma and pa.

In the midst of this stifling environment as life continued, the older woman remained in complete denial. At work, she kept her personal life carefully hidden. Even though her closest colleagues sensed her discomfort and unease, they never pried. She wore her public mask of professionalism and cheerfulness, but beneath it, she was struggling with her own truths.

Becoming a tough woman and pretending to just be heterosexual, a role she embraced, took a significant toll on her mental being. This strength she presented to the world was both a shield and a cage. The weight to maintain this image meant suppressing her vulnerabilities and emotions, leading to a constant internal battle. Her moments of solitude were marked by a deep, unspoken sadness as she grappled with isolation.

The persona she projected often felt like a lie, one that she had to uphold despite the emotional exhaustion it caused. Her mental health suffered as she became increasingly disconnected from her true self. Not recognizing herself anymore.

Melissa’s failed marriage with Joe was a constant reminder of the life she had tried to conform to but never truly belonged to.

That seemed to change when Ava hired you as the new teacher to take third-grade class. You brought a warmth and openness that cut through the fiery redhead’s worst barriers, sparking a connection she had not anticipated. As your friendship deepened into something more, she found herself struggling with feelings she had long suppressed. Despite her growing affection for you, she hesitated to cross the line into physical intimacy.

This vulnerability and insecurity consumed her every single second. As she lay in her king-sized bed on a Friday night after a busy day at school, she couldn’t help but replay every moment of your relationship in her mind. She worried constantly about whether she was good enough for you, fearing she might be making you impatient due to her reluctance to have sex. The fear of disappointing you gnawed at her, and she found herself staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. She ached with the desire to connect with you on a deeper level, to show you just how much she cared, but the uncertainty held her back.

Each night, as she lay next to you in your complex apartment, the older woman would often find herself tracing the gentle curves of your sleeping body with her fingertips, memorizing the softness of your skin under her touch. You were a source of warmth and safety, still every time she opened her mouth to voice her fears, the words lodged in her throat. It was a silent battle, one that filled her with shame and frustration. Melissa felt as if she was a stranger in her own body, struggling to reconcile her desires with her reality.

You had been nothing but patient, reassuring her multiple times that there was no rush at all, that love was about connection and trust. Even amidst your understanding, a humiliation consumed her. How could she be almost fifty four and still feel so unprepared for something natural like that? The shame burned fiercely in her chest, a constant reminder of her late blooming, leaving her wondering if she could ever truly satisfy you in the ways you deserved.

“Santo cielo. I can’t do this I fuckin’ can’t.” Melissa cursed, tears threatening to fall into her green eyes. Why was this so damn complicated? The internal struggle felt unbearable, as if a storm was about to explode inside her. It consumed her, and even surrounded by understanding, the pressure of everything was overwhelming.

Turning her head toward the mirror, she stared at her reflection. The image staring back at her was a woman trapped between two worlds. On one side was the freedom she had found in accepting her sexuality, a liberation she had long yearned for. On the other hand, the harsh reality of her insecurities loomed large, amplified by her constant comparisons to others who seemed so much more experienced and confident. The weight of her inexperience made her feel small and inadequate.

She sat up in bed, wiping at her eyes angrily. “Fuck this, Schemmenti,” she muttered. The words came out as a broken whisper, a desperate plea to herself, but the self-reproach did little to ease the turmoil inside her. The tears came anyway, hot and unchecked, as she let out a shuddering breath. She needed to find a way to talk to you, to bridge the gap that her disquiet had created. But the question remained—could she overcome her past and embrace the love she had found with you? She wanted to explore, to learn, to share everything with you, but the fear of failing paralyzed her.

“There are so many things I still don’t understand,” the redhead continued, her voice choking, as if she was waiting for someone to answer her. “So many things that I need to explore. And I keep getting lost in doubts. It’s not fair to you, baby. It’s not fair to me either.”

Melissa let out a long, weary sigh as she sank into the soft embrace of the sheets once again, curling up into a tight ball of self–deprecation. The emptiness of the bedroom started to swallow her figure, a stark contrast to the comfort and safety she used to feel. She stared at the empty space beside her, her gaze tracing the outlines of the pillow and the indentations where you lain on weekends. The walls of the room, once so familiar, now seemed cold and distant, offering little solace from the storm of emotions inside her.

Memories of happy times with you surfaced, fleeting but powerful, when she would catch you looking at her with tenderness, and such understanding, that it felt like the world stopped spinning. In those moments, her apprehension would momentarily dissipate, replaced by the warmth of your company and gaze. She remembered how you would gently reassure her, your voice a soothing balm to her restless state.

I know I’m your first woman; that means everything to me.

I’ll be gentle, just take your time. You’re safe with me.

Your reassurances helped—sometimes. When you’d say things like those, a part of her believed you, trusted in your kindness. But another part of her couldn’t stop the flood of negativity, couldn’t shut out the fear that she would disappoint you, that she was fumbling through something too precious to ruin.

You’ll never be enough for her, Melissa. You’ve never done this before. She’ll get tired of waiting for you to figure it out. You’ll embarrass yourself.

You’re fumbling, and she’s just being nice. She’s just waiting for the moment she can walk away.

You’re too old for this. You’re too slow, too clumsy. She can do better. She will do better.

“Mi dispiace amore mio, sono un codardo,” she yelled punching the mattress with her fist.

That Friday, she cried until she fell asleep. Exhausted, her salty tears wet the pillow, and silent sobs shook her body as she tried, in vain, to calm the storm of emotions built up inside her. The deep need to feel confident and equal to the love you gave her. And as a troubled sleep finally embraced her, Melissa felt a small relief. The crying, in a way, had been a step towards releasing the feelings that tormented her.

Was she really a coward that would never face her fears?

What were you doing with an old lady like her who didn’t know anything?

Wouldn’t it just be better if you left her?

Over the weekend, the older woman was relaxing on the plastic couch in her living room, a glass of red wine resting in her right hand as she puffed away at a cigarette. The soft lights created a welcoming atmosphere, and the sound of the television, playing Celebrity Jeopardy, filled the space with a comfortable familiar distraction. She was distracted, but her mind was away from the entertainment, deep in thoughts about what she had just watched and what she still needed to do. Melissa watched the show's contestants, her eyes scanning the confident faces on the screen.

She looked at her cigarette, which was almost finished, and let it go out in the ashtray. Her old cigarette addiction had become a metaphor for her deepest insecurities — a habit that was difficult to break, but one that constantly reminded her of her challenges and rage. Each ember that dimmed seemed to echo the older woman's own struggles, a poignant reminder of the destructive patterns she fought to escape. The acrid smell lingered, an olfactory ghost of her past, stubbornly clinging to her clothes and her very soul. With a heavy sigh, she flicked the ash and resolved to confront the parts of herself she had long tried to ignore.

She leaned back into the couch, closing her eyes and taking another sip of wine. The warmth of the alcohol spread through her chest, loosening some of the tension. She knew she needed to do something, to find a way to overcome her fears and insecurities. But where to start? And how to reach information? The idea of opening up about her feelings, of admitting her lack of experience, felt terrifying since she hated to show any sign of weakness.

“Maybe I should do some research?” Melissa thought aloud, the idea dawning on her slowly. It sounded ridiculous at first, but the more she considered it, the more it made sense. She had always been someone who liked to be prepared, to have all the information before making a decision. This situation was no different. If she wanted to feel more confident, she needed to educate herself.

As the edition of Celebrity Jeopardy on the TV ended, replaced by a late-night talk show, Melissa stood up and stretched, feeling the tension ease from her muscles. She walked over to the windows, looking out at the night sky. The stars twinkled brightly, a reminder that the world was vast and full of possibilities. She smiled softly to herself, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.

The redhead raised another cigarette to the empty room, striking a match with a soft scratch. As the flame illuminated the dark space for a moment, she took a deep drag, letting the smoke curl up around her. “To new beginnings, for me, for Y/n. To us,” she whispered, voice barely above a murmur. The words hung in the air, resonating in the quiet of the room. It wasn’t a perfect solution, and she knew doubts and fears would still linger. But it was a step in the right direction. As the TV continued to hum, Melissa felt a small flicker of hope. She might not have all the answers, but at least she was ready to start looking for them.

Over the next few days and weeks, on several sleepless nights, the teacher searched on Google. How to navigate a same-sex relationship when you’re inexperienced? she typed, pressing enter before she could second-guess herself. As the results loaded, she skimmed through the titles. There were so many women who had been in her shoes, who had felt the same insecurities and fears at one moment of their lives. With each click, she felt more intrigued and amazed as she noticed the many different options for how she could give and receive pleasure. Articles, videos, forums—an entire world unfolded before her, revealing nuances she had never considered or imagined. She read article after article, watched educational videos, and even ventured into The Womanizer and Quinn blogs where women shared their intimate experiences and advice. The sheer variety of ways to connect and pleasure each other was both overwhelming and fascinating to her.

As she read through personal stories and advice columns, Melissa felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation. She took notes, bookmarked pages, and even found herself blushing at some of the more detailed descriptions. It was a strange, exhilarating education that left her feeling more informed but still uncertain. The more she learned, the more she realized how much she didn't know. And as she delved deeper into this research, she began to realize that the key was not just in techniques, but in communication and emotional connection. The Sicilian woman recalled how your soft touches and kind words made her feel safe and wanted. Perhaps the most important thing would be to bring that same security and desire to both of you.

After weeks of diving into intense research, Melissa found herself at a crossroad. Each day spent pouring over books, articles, and seeking advice had only heightened her awareness of her inexperience. The redhead made a heartfelt promise to herself, one that resonated deeply within her. She resolved that rather than allowing her fears and uncertainties to overshadow her, she would harness the insights she had gained to fortify the bond between you. This wasn’t just about confronting her own apprehensions; it was about opening her heart fully and trusting you in ways she had never allowed herself before.

She envisioned a future where both of you could explore and embrace the full spectrum of love and connection. Melissa understood that the path ahead would not be without its challenges. It would require patience, understanding, and a willingness to be vulnerable. Although, she was committed to embarking on this journey with you. She was prepared to face her worst fears head-on and let the promise of love and trust guide her.

—

“C’mon. It shouldn’t be that hard, stop being a pussy.” The redhead huffed, walking through the busy streets and holding a small pamphlet with an address on it. Pushing herself forward. The words were meant to be a pep talk, but they came out more as a grumble. Dressed in a black leather jacket, her left hand buried deep in her pocket gripping her keys so tightly that the cold metal dug into her palm. While the right clutched the paper, she cut a confident figure. But inside, she felt like a terrified kid again.

On this afternoon, Melissa found herself standing outside a cozy queer café in Philadelphia. The establishment’s large windows framed a warm, inviting interior filled with plush armchairs, bookshelves, vases of plants and soft lighting. A sign with an impeccable handwriting on the door read Sapphic Women’s Discussion Group. All Welcome! The vibrant façade, adorned with rainbow flags and welcoming posters promoting LGBTQ+ events, felt inviting and intimidating.

She was resting on the door handle. The intrusive thought of turning around, retreating to the safety of her car, and forgetting this whole idea crossed her mind. For years, Melissa had thought about walking into a place like this, spaces that welcomed women like her, women who loved other women—but she never imagined she’d actually do it. Not at her age, not after a life of silence and denial.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped inside, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods enveloping her.

“Here goes nothin’,” The Italian redhead said with a hint of sarcasm, her South Philly accent wry and unmistakable. “I swear if anyone makes funny of me, I’ll fucking ran away–”

Inside, the atmosphere was lively but casual. Women of various ages and backgrounds were seated at tables, engaged in conversations. Laughter and the hum of voices filled the air, creating a sense of community and belonging. The older woman spotted a table in the corner with a small group of women and made her way over, hoping to blend in while still taking in the atmosphere and aura. The table she chose was adorned with a simple centerpiece of fresh flowers, next to a hand-drawn menu filled with witty drink names like Sappho’s Latte and Audre’s Espresso.

“Mind if I sit here?” she asked, her voice betraying just a hint of nervousness.

They nodded, murmuring polite welcomes, and she sat down, smoothing her jacket out of habit. Just as she was settling in, a woman in her mid-thirties approached, a friendly smile lighting up her face. She had short, dark hair that fell naturally across her forehead, and her denim jacket was covered with pins advocating for various causes—pride flags, feminist slogans, and more. There was something about her presence that radiated both strength and warmth, an unspoken understanding in her eyes that seemed to invite openness.

“Hey, you’re new here, right? I’m Jules. Can I join you?”

She managed a small, nervous smile and shifted her gaze downward, politely giving her a clumsy handshake. “Sure, it’s my first time being here. I’m Melissa.”

Jules took a seat and leaned back, her presence somehow instantly putting her at ease. “So, what brings you here today?”

Melissa took a deep breath. It wasn’t easy to open up about something so personal, especially to a place full of strangers, but something about the atmosphere in the shop made her feel safe enough to try.

“Recently, I came out as bisexual,” the older woman began, trembling. “It took me years to figure it out...or maybe I knew all along, but I was just too scared to accept it because of, you know... religious guilt and family trauma.”

“That’s a huge step, Mel. Coming out, especially after carrying something like that for so long... It’s not easy. You’re brave for even being here.”

Encouraged by understanding, she continued, though her words still came out haltingly. “I.. I’m in a relationship now, with a younger woman. She’s amazing, and I really care about her. But I’ve never been intimate with a woman before, and I... I’m so scared. I want to pleasure her, make her feel good, but I don’t know where to start. I was afraid to come here and open up about this. I thought... I thought people might laugh at me or think I’m not ‘really’ bi because I’ve never done it before.”

Jules reached across the table and placed her hand on Melissa’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring pat. “You’re definitely not alone in feeling that way. A lot of us have been where you are now. It’s completely normal to feel nervous, especially when it’s all so new. But what’s important is that you’re here, willing to learn and grow.”

The green eyed woman felt a lump forming in her throat.

“I was married too," she confessed, tinged with bitterness and pain. “My ex-husband, Joe… he was a dickhead. He was always drunk, and he cheated on me more times than I can count. I stayed with him ‘cause I thought it was the ‘right’ thing to do, you know? Because of my family, because of my faith… But it was killing me inside. I was miserable, and it took me a long time to realize that I deserved better.”

“I’m sorry you went through that,” the youngest said sincerely. "No one deserves to be treated that way. But you’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

As they spoke, Jules gave a subtle signal to a few women seated nearby. One by one, they began to gather around, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and encouragement. They formed a small semicircle, their presence a quiet testament to the power of community. Each woman seemed to carry her own story, her own struggles and triumphs, but there was no judgment here—only acceptance.

One of the women, a young woman with thoughtful eyes, spoke up first. “You know, sometimes the most important thing is to listen and learn without rushing. Every relationship is different. What works for one couple might not work for another.”

Another woman, slightly older, nodded in agreement. “And balancing personal space with intimacy is key. You have to be able to communicate openly about your needs and boundaries.”

Melissa nodded, absorbing their words like a sponge. The advice was practical, yes, but it was the honesty and openness in their voices that struck her most. They weren’t just talking at her—they were sharing pieces of themselves.

The conversation continued, flowing naturally between experiences of first loves, heartbreaks, and everything in between. They discussed how vital it was to take things slow, to be attuned to each other’s needs, to ask questions, and most of all, to approach intimacy with openness and care. Each woman offered something unique, from personal tips to deeply felt wisdom, and by the time the gathering wound down, Melissa felt an overwhelming sense of relief and empowerment.

As the women began to disperse, exchanging hugs and goodbyes, Melissa stood up from the table, feeling lighter than when she had walked in. Jules caught her eye one last time, giving her a reassuring nod.

“You’ve got this, Mel. Just remember to trust yourself, okay?”

She smiled, a genuine warmth spreading across her face for the first time that evening. “Thank you… really.”

As she stepped outside, the sun still hung low in the sky, casting everything in a warm, golden glow. For the first time in a long while, she felt hopeful. She wasn’t just carrying the weight of her past anymore—she was moving forward, armed with the knowledge, support, and confidence she’d gained from this little café and the women who had opened their hearts to her.

Melissa was ready to take the next steps in your relationship.

—

Wednesday was different for Melissa. From the moment she woke up, she could feel the weight of anticipation pressing down on her chest. After dropping her second graders—whom she affectionately called her “little eagles”—off at the gym for physical education, her day should have felt like any other. But instead, her mind raced, a nervous buzz thrumming beneath her skin. She spent the rest of the morning mentally rehearsing what she planned to say, her palms growing sweaty each time she replayed the words in her head.

By the time the lunch bell rang, her resolve had formed, but her body still trembled as she made her way to the cafeteria. She spotted you immediately, seated at a table with Jacob and Janine. The three of you were deep in discussion, laughing about the success of the recent library program project. The sound of your laughter, bright and carefree, made Melissa’s heart flutter. It grounded her, reminding her of why she wanted to do this in the first place.

But as she approached, her heart raced, and the familiar anxiety crept back in. What if she said the wrong thing? What if you didn’t want the same things she did? She had planned something special for the two of you tonight, something that would show you just how much she cared. She just hoped she wouldn’t trip over now that she was so close to making it real.

You were in the middle of recounting a funny story about one of your students when your gaze shifted, and you saw her walking toward the table. Instantly, your surroundings blurred; the laughter and conversation between Jacob and Janine faded into a distant hum as your focus zeroed in on her. Melissa wasn’t often nervous, but there was something in the way she carried herself now—vulnerable yet brave—that made your heart swell with affection.

She hesitated for a moment, standing a few feet away. Her green eyes flicked to the floor as though she was searching for the right words. Her hands, you noticed, were fidgeting at the hem of her blouse, tracing the fabric as if seeking comfort. She drew in a breath before speaking, her voice soft but laced with determination.

“I, um… I planned a romantic dinner for us tonight.” She was cautious, almost tentative. “Would you be able to come over to my place at seven, hon?”

Your heart warmed at her nervousness, and you gave her a soft, reassuring smile. “Of course, babe. I’d love to.” The tenderness in your tone seemed to ease her tension, and you couldn’t help but add. “Do you want me to bring anything? A bottle of your favorite white wine or—”

“No, just you and your beautiful body,” The second the words left her lips, her face flushed a deep, fiery red, the color climbing up her neck and spreading across her cheeks. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth as her eyes went wide in shock at her own boldness. It was as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just said, and the mortification was clear in the way her shoulders tensed. “Oh?”

Jacob and Janine, who had been standing just far enough away to give you both some privacy, exchanged a quick glance. Janine, ever the romantic, stifled a squeal of excitement, biting her hand to keep from bursting into giddy laughter. Jacob, always the supportive friend, gave Melissa a discreet thumbs-up, mouthing.“You’ve got this. Just breathe, Mel Mel.” Their silent gestures of support didn’t go unnoticed by Melissa, and despite the fiery embarrassment burning in her cheeks, she felt a rush of warmth and gratitude.

You, too, caught the brief exchange between your friends and chuckled, though your gaze quickly returned to Melissa. There was no mistaking the anxiety in her posture, but beyond that, you could see the flicker of something else—determination, excitement, maybe even hope. She was putting herself out there, more than she usually allowed herself to, and that touched you deeply.

Just me and my body, huh?” you teased gently. “That’s quite the invitation, Schemmenti. What’s the occasion?”

Melissa’s face, already flushed, deepened into an even darker shade of red, but there was a spark in her eyes now, a glimmer of resolve. She was nervous, yes, but she had made her decision. “I just thought it was time to switch things up a bit,” she replied, her voice steadier than before, though still laced with vulnerability. “You know, take a leap and maybe… celebrate us.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. This wasn’t just about a dinner; this was about moving forward, about her desire to deepen your relationship. You could see how much this moment mattered to her—the courage it took to say those words, to open herself up to the possibility of rejection, even if that fear was unfounded. You stood up and closed the distance between you. Without hesitation, you wrapped her in a tender hug, your arms encircling her in a protective embrace.

She stiffened for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden display of affection, especially in such a public setting. But as soon as she felt your warmth enveloping her, she relaxed, melting into your arms as if this was exactly where she was meant to be. The proximity, the way you held her so tightly yet so gently, made her realize how deeply she needed this, needed you.

“Baby, that sounds perfect,” you whispered softly, your breath warm against her ear. “I can’t wait for tonight.”

Melissa’s hold on you tightened as she buried her face in the crook of your neck, the anxiety that had gnawed at her all day slowly ebbing away. She pressed a soft kiss to your hair, the gesture filled with such tenderness it made your heart ache. With your bodies pressed together, she could feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against hers, the calming syncopation reminding her that she was exactly where she belonged.

As you held her, you caught a glimpse of Janine and Jacob, who were watching from a distance with proud smiles. Janine gave Jacob a giddy nudge, her spirit high and full of excitement for you both. Even Mr. Johnson, who was still sweeping the cafeteria floor nearby, muttered something about “first love making messes,” though there was a small, almost imperceptible grin on his face.

Eventually, you pulled back just enough to look at her, your hands resting on her arms. “So, what’s on the menu tonight?” you asked, with playful curiosity. “I’m guessing it’s not just spaghetti and meatballs.”

Melissa’s lips twitched, the nervousness in her eyes slowly giving way to something warmer, more confident. “You’ll just have to wait and see,” she said, her voice teasing now. “But I can promise you, it’s going to be unforgettable.”

You grinned at her, the excitement for tonight bubbling up in your chest. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

As you stepped back and returned to your spot, Melissa lingered for a moment, watching you with a cute, almost dreamy expression on her face. The weight of the day’s nerves had finally lifted, replaced by a sense of joy and anticipation. With one last glance at you, she turned and headed back to her classroom, her heart feeling lighter than it had in months.

“You two are seriously the cutest couple ever,” Janine gushed, nudging you with her elbow as she sat back down.

Jacob nodded in agreement, a small, knowing smirk on his face. “She’s a lucky woman.”

You felt your face flush with warmth as you beamed softly, your thoughts already drifting to the evening ahead. “I’m the lucky one,” you murmured, more to yourself than to them.

—

The soft glow of candles flickered across the kitchen, casting gentle shadows that danced on the walls. Melissa had taken great care to set the table just right. The white linen tablecloth was smooth and immaculate, the polished silverware gleamed under the dim light, and delicate crystal glasses sparkled like tiny stars. A simple yet elegant centerpiece—a vase filled with fresh roses—added a touch of romance, their soft petals a gentle reminder of the evening’s purpose.

After a quick shower, Melissa stood in front of her bathroom mirror, wrapped in a thick towel as her reflection stared back at her. She untangled her hair with her fingers, letting the soft waves settle naturally around her shoulders. The evening felt charged with meaning, and as she pulled on a deep green dress that highlighted the rich color of her eyes, she couldn’t shake a sense of anticipation that made her fingers tremble. But before she slipped into the dress, Melissa lingered in her reflection, standing there in her bra and underwear.

Her fingers brushed lightly over the delicate lace of her bra before trailing up to her cross necklace. The small, familiar weight of it rested against her skin, a reminder of her faith and the strength she often sought from it. She gently kissed the cross, her lips touching the cool metal, as if grounding herself. Closing her eyes for a moment, she whispered, “I’ll be okay.” Her voice was steady, a quiet promise to herself. When she opened her eyes again, a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She was ready—nervous, yes, but there was an undeniable sense of purpose in the evening that outweighed her fears.

The act of kissing her necklace and reminding herself that she would be okay brought a small but real sense of calm. She unclenched her jaw, letting herself breathe before stepping away from the mirror to pull on the deep green dress she had picked out.

Slipping into the dress, Melissa took one last look at herself, smoothing down the fabric and adjusting the straps. It wasn’t an extravagant gown—just a simple dress that made her feel beautiful in a way that mattered most to her. It hugged her curves in all the right places, the fabric complementing her fiery red hair and highlighting the vibrancy of her eyes. She added a light touch of makeup, just enough to enhance her natural features, before stepping back to admire the final result. A moment of calm settled over her, the flicker of nerves tempered by the reassurance she had given herself.

The house was filled with the mouthwatering aroma of lasagna, garlic, tomatoes, and bubbling cheese coming together in the oven. The familiar, comforting smells filled every corner of the room, making it feel warm, welcoming. Melissa stepped into the kitchen, checking on the lasagna and adjusting the heat, ensuring everything was perfect. The faint sound of the record player drifted in from the living room, where a playlist of your favorite songs played softly, romantic melodies filling the air with warmth and intimacy. Everything was set, and now, all she needed was for you to arrive.

The doorbell rang, cutting through the quiet with a soft chime, and Melissa’s heart skipped a beat. She stood still for a moment, gathering her courage. This evening wasn’t just about the food or the setting—it was about the leap she was taking, the love she wanted to show you. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed her dress once more and made her way to the door. As her hand reached for the doorknob, she murmured to herself, “I’ll be okay,” one last time, her fingers briefly touching the cross around her neck.

When she opened the door and saw you standing there, her nerves melted away at the sight of your smile. You looked at her, taking in the beautiful green dress, her soft waves of hair, and the way her eyes shone with a mixture of happiness and vulnerability. There was a beat of silence, the world falling away for a moment as you exchanged a quiet, meaningful look.

“Hey, babe,” you said warmly, stepping forward and pulling her into a gentle hug. You could feel the slight tremble in her body as she relaxed into your embrace, her arms wrapping around you as if she had been waiting for this all day.

“Hey, mia principessa,” she whispered back softly, but there was a strength in it. You could sense how much this night meant to her, how much she wanted it to be special. “Come in. I’ve got everything ready.”

The smell of lasagna welcomed you as you stepped into the cozy warmth of her home. You glanced around, admiring the thoughtful touches—the candlelit table, the vase of roses, the soft music filling the space. It was intimate, and it spoke volumes about the care she had put into this night.

“Lissa, this is beautiful,” you said, turning back to her. “You did all of this?”

Melissa smiled, the nervous energy that had been building inside her easing just a little at your reaction. “Yeah, I wanted to do something special for us.”

You reached out, taking her hand and giving it a gentle peck. “It’s perfect.”

For the first time that evening, your girlfriend felt a deep sense of calm.

You followed Melissa to the dining table, where the soft glow of the candles illuminated the spread before you. The lasagna sat perfectly golden in its dish, steam rising from the surface, and the fresh roses at the center of the table filled the air with their delicate scent. She pulled out a chair for you, her hand brushing against your shoulder as you sat down.

The older woman served the lasagna with careful hands, the utensils clinking against the plates as she handed you your portion. As you took your first bite, the rich flavors of garlic, tomato, and cheese filled your mouth, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes for a second to savor it.

“This is delicious, Mel,” you said, smiling up at her as you set your fork down.

“I’m glad you like it,” she replied sweetly, still carrying that undercurrent of vulnerability that made your heart swell with affection. You could see how much she wanted tonight to be perfect, and it already was. The evening felt like a beautiful, slow unfolding of something deeper, something you both had been moving toward for a long time.

For a while, you ate in companionable silence, the music playing in the background as the evening settled into a comfortable rhythm. Melissa stole glances at you as you ate, and each time your eyes met, she smiled a little more freely. But there was something else too—an sexual tension hanging in the air between you, unspoken but unmistakable. It made every touch and every shared look feel heavier, more charged.

After a while, Melissa set her fork down, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of her wine glass as she spoke, quieter now. “There’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while…” Her eyes lifted to meet yours, and you could see the seriousness in them.

You frowned, sensing the shift in the conversation. “What is it?”

“I’ve been… I’ve been wanting to take the next step with us. I’m ready. For sex.”

The weight of her confession settled between you, and for a second, it felt like the world outside this moment ceased to exist. Your heart skipped a beat, the meaning behind her words sinking in. You knew how much this meant to her, how deeply she felt things, and how careful she was with every step in your relationship. And now, here she was, opening herself up, offering all of her to you in the most vulnerable way possible.

You reached across the table, your fingers finding hers, and she held onto you like she’d been waiting for this connection all night. “Mel,” you began. “I’ve been waiting for you to be ready. I’m here. I’ll always wait for you.”

A soft laugh touched her lips, her thumb brushing over your knuckles as she held your gaze. “I know,” she whispered, and then, as if the moment couldn’t hold itself back any longer, she leaned across the table and kissed you. Her lips were soft, warm, and full of promise. The kiss started gentle, but there was a sense of urgency behind it, a need she had been holding back for too long.

You stood up, gently pulling her with you, and without breaking the kiss, she wrapped her arms around your waist. The closeness felt intoxicating, the room spinning with the scent of roses, the warmth of the candlelight, and the taste of wine still on her lips.

Melissa pulled back slightly. “Come upstairs with me.”

You nodded, unable to speak, the weight of the moment settling in your chest. With her hand in yours, she led you out of the dining room and up the stairs, her grip firm but trembling ever so slightly. The steps felt endless, each one echoing the rapid beating of your heart, but when you reached the bedroom door, everything else faded away. It was just you and her, the world quiet and still, as if this moment had been waiting for you both for a long time.

After going upstairs hand in hand, you enter her bedroom. The environment is spacious and welcoming, with a palette of neutral tones that creates a soft and intimate atmosphere. The walls are painted a light, almost sandy beige, and there are several old photo frames hanging in an elegant pattern. The floor is covered in a large, shaggy rug in a soft brown tone that provides a pleasant contrast to the dark wooden floor.

The center of the room is dominated by a king size bed, covered with sheets and bedding set in beige tones. The pillows and duvet combine in different textures and subtle patterns, creating a feeling of comfort and simplicity.

You lay down on the bed, messing up the bedding set and pillowcases that were still fresh and spotless. Melissa sat on top of you, with her knees on either side of your hips, and began to unbutton the elegant blouse you were wearing. Her movement was careful, almost reverent, as if each blossoming bud revealed not just your skin, but also the vulnerability and trust you were building together.

“I’ve never looked like that,” she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against your own in a long kiss that was both hesitant and eager. As her mouth lingered on yours, she noticed the way you slightly shudder beneath her touch, a clear sign of your nervousness. And how anxious you seemed, more so than she felt herself. “You’re trembling.”

Melissa reaches for the lamp, her digits brushing against its switch as she considers dimming the light to make the room more comfortable and less intimidating. But before she can, you reach out to stop her, grabbing her wrist feeling the subtle pulse of her beat beneath your touch.

“No, I want to see you too,” you peel off your blouse, followed by your pants and underwear, letting them fall to the floor in a silent haze.

The older woman gulps and bobs her throat and starts to undress too. Her long green dress fell away in soft folds to the edge of the king size bed, followed by the delicate unfastening of her bra, revealing her full, supple and delicious boobs. Their natural weight makes them sway slightly and her nipples, a dusky rose, stood erect in the cool air. Her panties followed, slipping down her legs to reveal her glistening, damp center with some reddish, slightly trimmed pubic hair above her mound that was a stark contrast to the smooth milky white of her thighs.

For a fleeting second, doubt and insecurity crept in. She wondered if you saw her as beautiful or if the passage of time, with its subtle marks on her skin—fine lines around her eyes and mouth, the gentle curve of age. Arms flaccid and a little droopy, and the fact that she is not completely shaved underneath—might be off-putting. The decades that had shaped her were etched into her form, a testament to experiences and moments lived, but she questioned if they would overshadow the intimacy of the present.

She hesitated, her gaze dropping to the side, overwhelmed by the thought of you finding her less than desirable, maybe even disgusting like Joe did when they used to have sex in their marriage years. The idea of her imperfections being too much to bear made her shiver with apprehension, and unexpected tears dropped into her cheeks as those thoughts almost brought her to the brink of crying.

In that vulnerable instant, Melissa searched for any sign of disapproval, any hint that the years might have dimmed her allure. But as your gaze locked with hers, she saw something entirely different—an intense, unspoken admiration, a hunger that seemed to pierce through her insecurities. This recognition of her allure gave her the courage to continue.

“You’re so beautiful, bambina.” She tilted her head, her swollen lips meeting yours again in a passionate kiss that deepened as she felt your response. Your hands roamed over her back, feeling the heat of her skin and the subtle firmness of her muscles. Her auburn hair fell around her shoulders, cascading like a dark waterfall that framed her face and partially covered her chest. The sight of her, disheveled and beautiful, made you catch your oxygen.

Melissa lets her thumbs glide down your abdomen, feeling the softness of your flesh beneath her fingertips while she trails imaginary patterns. That only she can see. She squeezes your breasts gently before she leans in to nip at your earlobe. There’s a hunger in the way she worships you, a need to feel you, to taste you.

She begins to kiss her way down your neck, her lips leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. When she reaches your boobs, she pauses for a moment, her breath ghosting over your nipples before she takes one into her mouth slowly. The feeling sends a shiver down your body, and you can’t help the loud whimper that escapes your lips.

“That feels so good. Don’t stop. Suck harder,” you gasped, unable to contain the fervent need building inside you.

The redhead hums in response, her gaze locked onto yours as she continues to suckle on your hardened peak. There’s something almost reverent in the way she’s looking at you, as though she’s in awe of the effect she’s having on you. Her hair, now tousled and wild, brushed against your skin like a silken curtain. You closed your eyes, savoring the feeling of her lips on your sensitive areas, and opened your mouth to draw in deep, steady breaths, trying to ground yourself amidst the swirling sensations.

She traces a slow, deliberate path down your body, her lips grazing the curve of your waist, until she’s almost between your legs. Her hands rest on your thighs, gently urging them apart, and you feel the smirk ghosting over your most intimate area. When she parted your legs, her eyes widened slightly at the sight of your wetness dripping down and the intoxicating smell that made her drool.

“Can I put my mouth on you?”

“Please.”

Melissa’s hands move to your hips, and with a deliberate, almost possessive grip, she pushes you down against the mattress, pinning you in place. The bed creaks softly beneath you, but all you can focus on is the way her mouth hovers just above your aching pussy.

She lowers herself between your thighs, her breath hot against your skin as she leans in, her mouth finally making contact. The first contact of her tongue against your wet folds is electrifying, a shiver running down your spine. She’s never felt anything like this—so raw, so intimate. The sensation of your taste, warm and sweet on her tongue, ignites something deep within her.

The older woman begins to lick through your wetness, her movements grow more confident, more assured. Her face becomes slick with your arousal, but she doesn’t care—if anything, it only drives her to delve deeper, to explore every inch of you with her warm mouth. The soft slurping and suckling sounds she makes while she eats you out, along with guttural groans of satisfaction vibrating against your most sensitive spots muffled against your folds, tell you everything; how much Melissa is enjoying this. Amplifying the pleasure coursing through you. And you can’t help but moan, your fingers tangling in her hair, urging her closer.

“Oh, Lissa…go faster,” you murmur breathy, trying to guide her with gentle encouragement. “Just like that, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

She’s teasing your clit now, her tongue flicking over it teasing it with featherlight strokes that makes your hips buck involuntarily. She seems to be memorizing, learning and responding to your every movement, every sound. You can feel her fingers hovering at your entrance, the pads of her tips brushing teasingly against your folds. The need for more—more of her, more of everything—builds inside you like a tidal wave.

“Fingers. Use them to fill me up.”

Two fingers slide inside you easily, the heat and slickness enveloping her in a way that makes her gasp. The knowledge that she’s the one making you feel this way, that she’s the cause of your pleasure, is almost overwhelming for her. She starts to pump her fingers, slow and deep, crooking them just right to hit that spot that makes you see stars.

“Fuck, hon,” Melissa groans. “You’re so tight… so fucking good.”

“Mhhm.”

The older woman intensifies her pace, her fingers moving faster, deeper, her thumb circling your clit in slow, lazy circles. Her brow furrows in concentration as she continues.

The pressure builds rapidly, and your hips buck against her hand, your need growing more urgent with every passing second. Her eyes stay locked on your face, absorbing each scream and tremor that escapes you, her lips parting slightly as she watches your pleasure build.

“You feel so good,” she murmurs, never letting up the pace. “Are you close?”

Your breath catches, the coil tightening inside you. “I’m so so close, please let me come,” you beg, your voice trembling as you ride the edge.

A flicker of confidence crosses her face as she leans closer, her thumb pressing harder against your clit, her fingers driving deeper. “Cum for me,” she whispers, laced with longing. “I want to feel you, pretty girl.”

That command, spoken so softly but filled with intent, sends you spiraling. With a final, perfect stroke, you fall over the edge, your body arching as the pleasure crashes through you, wave after wave. Your whines grow louder, desperate, as Melissa guides you through the bliss.

She keeps going, drawing out every shudder and whimper until you’re completely undone beneath her. Only then does she slowly withdraw her fingers, leaving you trembling and breathless.

Collapsing against you, her face finds the crook of your neck, her figure trembling with emotion. It takes a moment to realize she’s crying, low sobs muffled against you.

“I did it?” she breaks in disbelief. “I made you feel good… I can’t believe I did it.”

You wrap your arms around her, pulling her close. “You did, baby,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to her hair. “You were perfect.”

Melissa shakes her head slightly, still clinging to you. “I was so scared I’d mess it up… but I did it.”

You gently lift her chin, forcing her to look at you. Her emerald eyes are red and glistening with tears, but the satisfaction you see there only makes your love for her grow stronger. You cup her face in your hands, brushing your thumbs over her cheeks to wipe away the tears.

She lets out a shaky breath, her curvaceous body leaning into yours as if seeking reassurance. Her pink lips brush over yours in a tender, almost desperate kiss. Between soft pecks, you speak against her lips, “You’re safe. I love you. You're safe with me.”

She gives you a small, tearful smile before pressing kisses to your chest, resting her head there as if she never wants to let go.

And you don’t want her to. Not ever.

#melissa schemmenti x reader #lisa ann walter #melissa schemmenti x you #abbott elementary #wlw #wlw smut #yes #that was a carol (2015) reference

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shalotttower · 11 months ago

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The Devil Is a Gentleman

Title: The Devil Is a Gentleman

Fandom: Hunter x Hunter

Summary: You wake up in the middle of the night with a headache.

Word count: 800+

Characters: Chrollo Lucilfer x Reader

Notes: Yandere Chrollo, captive Reader, my head is murdering me so I wanted some soft Chrollo stuff.

You shift under the covers and for a moment it seems that maybe this state of half sleep, half consciousness is here to stay. Just for a bit, until you slide all the way back into a dream, where the dull throb in your skull doesn't matter. No such luck; angry blurred dots start swarming behind your eyelids and the longer you lie there, the more evident it becomes that sleep isn't coming.

3 AM.

The red numbers from the alarm clock glow way too intensely in the dark. It's quiet. Chrollo's breath tickles your shoulder. No matter the position, he somehow manages to do this every single time - wrap himself around you like it's no tomorrow, with tangled legs and chest pressed to your back. Sometimes it's annoying, sometimes sickly comforting, but not now. There's a faint feeling of nausea in your throat, the whole world is spinning and swaying from side to side even though you're lying still.

Sharing a bed is a recent development. Previously the floor was your choice, but two weeks ago Chrollo simply carried your sleeping body to the mattress. You woke up trapped between him and soft pillows, then the pattern repeated two times, four, six, until it became clear that this arrangement was going to stick.

Carefully, inch by inch, you wiggle out of his embrace. An awful taste coats your tongue, clings to the palate - not something you expected upon waking, but not unusual either.

The kitchen light is bright and unpleasant. It stabs right through your eyes without remorse, making you promptly settle for a dimmer one above the stove. One cabinet after another, the fridge - no pills. Of course, why would Chrollo keep anything like that lying around? You probably have to wake him up for medicine, but it's honestly the least tempting scenario. You don't want to talk to Chrollo, don't want to ask him for help, don't want him to see you in pain or sick.

So you brew a cup of coffee and hope that the nausea plaguing your throat will eventually subside. What you should know by now, however, is that Chrollo doesn't need more than you breathing wrong in order to wake up.

"Dear?"

His voice has a slight raspy edge to it.

You glance over your shoulder and see his figure standing at the door frame. The light from the hallway throws a shadow cutout across the floor, and it's the only time beside after shower you ever see him all mussed hair, loose pants and, of course, no shirt. You suspect its absence has some relation to the attempts at wooing you which range from subtle to not so subtle these days.

You make a non-committal sound.

"It's 3 AM," Chrollo says and steps into the kitchen. "What are you doing up?"

His fingers brush a strand of hair away from your neck, linger there, feather-light and warm. You take a small sip of coffee.

The pulsing in your skull feels like someone decided to tap a small hammer against your brain. Well, he's up, so might as well do something.

"Headache," you say and press your forehead to the cool marble of the counter. It feels nice for a short moment.

Chrollo doesn't respond. He does place a hand on your nape though, thumb drawing circles, massaging the tension there. It's so peculiar. His tenderness leaves marks wherever it goes - light trails on your skin, hands on your forearms - a constant reminder that in this current reality he's everywhere and everything.

'Stop,' you want to say, but instead a quiet "mm" comes out. Maybe you're too tired to muster up any spite. He takes the cup out of your hand and sets it aside with a quiet clink.

"How bad?"

"Bad. Don't get too close," you warn. "I feel like throwing up."

He does anyway, and wraps an arm around your waist. Chrollo knows very well that you'd rather jump into boiling oil than lean on him out of your own volition, maybe that's why he uses every given opportunity to hold you.

"You should have woken me up," his words are muffled, lips pressed against your temple. Chrollo smells of shampoo, sheets and himself. "I'll get you something from the pharmacy later, but for now you should try and sleep, dear."

Then you're up in the air, carried out of the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" you frown, fingers gripping the muscles of his arm.

He hums something akin to a simple melody, the devil. "Taking you back to bed, where you can keep being miserable with more comfort."

This time you don't protest; the pillow has cooled down, and as soon as you lower your head on top of it, it feels like bliss. The bathroom door opens and closes, followed by quiet splashes of water. There's a pause before the mattress dips on your right.

Cold cloth covers your forehead.

"You should have woken me up," he repeats. "Next time do it, dear."

"Mm," is all you manage, when the bedside lamp clicks off, and then there're covers lifting, fingers rubbing your temples and a low hum somewhere above you.

#shalott fanfiction #yandere #hunter x hunter #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo lucifer x reader #hunter x hunter fanfic #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer

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thecharacterchronicler · 4 months ago

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Friends With Benefits… And A Baby (Part 2 ) || Sebastian Sallow x Reader || Smut

Outline: You and Sebastian decide to be “friends with benefits” during your pregnancy.

Word count: 2’500

Warnings: explicit smut, (accidental) pregnancy, characters aged up (20s) and probably a few mistakes here and there because English isn’t my first language.

Author’s note: This is the second part of Exams, poltergeists and supply closets, hope you’ll all enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing this little series.

(( Part 1 - Exams, poltergeists and supply closets )) - (( Part 3 - Mandrakes, dusty books & an apology )) - (( Masterlist ))

“What’s wrong with you ?” Ominis asked, as you sat down at the dinner table, after rushing out of the Great Hall when a very smelly dish of fried fish appeared in front of you, the smell instantly making you nauseous.

“I gave her some Bertie Bott’s beans before dinner, guess she ate one that tasted like boogers.” Sebastian shrugged, in an attempt to cover for you but all it did was give you the urge to throw up again.

“I felt ill for a moment but I’m okay now.” You assured your friend, not so convinced by your words yourself. You placed a boiled potato on your plate, the only thing among the various other dishes on the table that seemed edible to you in your almost constant state of morning sickness.

“Maybe we should walk you to the infirmary after dinner.” Ominis suggested, obviously still very worried. “You haven’t eaten much these past few days, it might be more serious than you think.”

“How would you know ?” Sebastian asked, before you could come up with an excuse to refuse paying a visit to the school nurse. Surely, she’d know what’s going with you at first glance and then you wouldn’t be able to hide it from anyone much longer.

“I have ears, Sebastian. You eat loudly like an animal next to me every day and yet I can still hear that her fork and knife are barely touching her plate lately.”

“I’m fine.” You stated, as confidently as you could fake it. Yet, a wave of nausea came to prove you wrong, making you gasp and cover your mouth. You couldn’t decide between swallowing it down and staying at the table or running off to the bathroom once more.

“See ? There’s only so many days she can go on without eating, it could be dangerous.” Ominis pleaded, and Sebastian’s gaze landed on the small potato in your plate, that you were pretty sure you wouldn’t eat anyway. Then, he looked up at you, his expression now as worried as your friend’s.

“Maybe he’s right. Maybe we should get you checked up, just to be safe.”

“I’m fine.” You repeated, once more. The only thing stronger than your all day sickness was the irritation you felt towards your friends at this very moment. You were determined to finish your last year at Hogwarts normally, passing your exams as brilliantly as you could and graduating with pride. The baby that Sebastian put in your belly will have no choice but to go along with your plan.

“The Gaunts are important contributors to the Saint Mungo hospital, if I send an owl I might be able to get a doctor to visit you here if it makes you more comfortable.” Ominis suggested, which brought you to the conclusion that there was no point in keeping it a secret from him any longer. Would he still be insufferably worried about you if he knew the truth ? Probably. But at least he would stop pestering you about seeking medical attention, if only temporarily.

“I’m fine, Ominis.” You stated again, for the third time at this dinner table. He opened his mouth to protest but you leaned closer, lowering your voice. “I’m pregnant, that is all.”

“Pregnant ? That is all ?!” Ominis exclaimed, repeating your words in disbelief before both you and Sebastian urged him to keep it down. You were sitting at the very end of the dining table but students nearby might still catch a glimpse of your conversation. “What were you two thinking ?! Do you have any idea of the gravity of such a situation ? What it means for your future ? By Merlin, what on earth went through your head to let you think that you two absolutely reckless lunatics could be capable of raising a child ?”

“H-How do you know it is mine ?” Sebastian asked him, surprised.

“Oh please, you both can’t shut up about each other when you’re not together.” Ominis retorted, as if it was the stupidest question his friend had ever asked him.

You exchanged a look with Sebastian, both of your faces blushing.

“What were you thinking ?” Ominis asked once more, shaking his head much like you imagined your disappointed parents will when they’ll find out.

“To be fair, not much went through my head the moment it happened.” Sebastian said, smugly.

“You should have controlled yourself, Sebastian !” Ominis scolded him, as you desperately tried to hush him up again.

“Easy for you to say, you weren’t there. If you heard the way she moans when she likes it and felt how wet…”

“Alright, that’s enough.” You interrupted before he got too carried away with very private details. “There’s no point having this conversation, it happened and now we have to deal with it.”

“At least this child will have one reasonable parent.” Ominis hissed, shaking his head at Sebastian, still way too cocky about it all next to him.

You were sitting down on the cold bathroom tiles, your back pressed against the wall, trying to focus on your homework. You barely noticed the door opening until you realized someone was standing in front of you, a concerned expression on his freckled face.

“This is the girls’ bathroom.” You informed him, which simply made him shrug.

“Imelda told me you were here.” He said, approaching and crouching down to your level, taking in the open books on the tiles with an amused smile. “I’m not sure we’ll be able to keep our secret if you move in into the bathrooms.”

“It’s just so I don’t have to run across the castle every time I need to throw up.” You explained. “Nobody will notice, when I told Imelda I had a stomach bug she just told me to stay away from her because she’s planning on winning the Quidditch cup this year.”

“You have friends that are more caring than Imelda Reyes.” He said, making a point. “And you know, I did some research in the library last night and found out that the best way to beat morning sickness is to actually eat.”

“But I’m not hungry.”

“Not at all ? Isn’t there something you’d be happy to eat ? Whatever it is, I’ll go get it for you.”

You smiled at him, grateful to have such a caring friend. Because that’s what he was to you, right ? Just a friend. A friend that happened to be your future baby’s daddy… But still, just a friend.

His traits softened as he smiled back at you, moving to sit on the floor by your side. His shoulder pressed against yours and you found relief in his familiar scent of old dusty books and faint remains of smoke, your nausea easing up a bit for the first time in days.

“Do you need help with…” He reached out to check the cover of the book on your lap. “One thousand magical herbs and fungi ?”

“I do but not yours if I want a chance to get a good grade in Herbology.” You replied playfully, which made him laugh.

“Fair enough.” He shrugged, his hand absently finding yours, letting it rest on your thigh as your fingers intertwined together. “We’ll figure it out, you know.”

“I know.” You nodded, knowing that he wasn’t talking about school anymore.

“And if we look at the positive aspect of it all, it means we can hook up as much as we want to for the next eight months without having to worry about getting you pregnant.”

“Right.” You rolled your eyes at his words, your giggle resounding against the bathroom tiles.

“And there’s no better way to find your appetite back than a bit of exercising.” He insisted, jokingly but you knew he definitely was trying his luck under the guise of making you laugh.

“Do you really think that would be reasonable ? I don’t think that’s something friends do.”

“We can be friends with benefits… And a baby.” He shrugged, unaware of how tempting the idea was to you. His presence next to you was the only thing that had managed to ease your symptoms and, if you were being totally honest, Sebastian Sallow had never looked more handsome than right now, with his sleeves rolled up and his tie slightly loosened, his hair tousled and that odd pride you saw in his smile every time he talked about hooking up with you - and getting you pregnant - that definitely made up for the slight panic you still sometimes noticed in his gaze.

“Okay.” You nodded, breaking the silence that had taken place between the two of you.

“Okay ?” He repeated, his brown eyes widening in surprise. “You… You want to do it ?”

“Yes, why not ? It’s not like I’d be comfortable hooking up with Garreth in the boat house anymore, anyway.” You replied, adding that last part to mess with him, not expecting the instant jealousy that took over his features.

“Garreth Weasley ?! This walking fire hazard…” Sebastian groaned, his hand tightening its grip on yours possessively. You smiled, flattered that your friend cared so much about you.

He was still mumbling to himself some colorful words about Garreth when you leaned in and pressed your lips against his to silence him. At first, you felt his surprise but soon, he kissed you back, his body irresistibly gravitating closer.

“What if someone walks in ?” He asked, when you moved to reach for his pants, taken aback by your boldness. The first time you had crossed the line of friendship with him, you had sounded so shy and cautious that he couldn’t quite believe you were the one with your hand inside his pants this time, fishing for his rapidly growing erection.

You knew you were breaking school rules by doing this. Again. And you promised yourself that next time, you’ll make sure to abide by the regulations and find another location, out of Hogwarts, to have your fun with Sebastian... But right now, your need for him was too urgent to be ignored. The images of that night in the supply closet were haunting you every night, to the point you sometimes could feel his kiss on your lips and his warm touch on your body in the darkness and loneliness of your dorm room. But you knew nothing could compare to the real thing, and having the opportunity to actually see him while giving in to your desires was something you didn’t have the strength to refuse.

“Then they’ll think that we hook up in bathrooms and won’t question why I’m in here that often anymore.” You told him to ease his concern, the heat of his cock in your hand making you wonder if he had a sudden rush of fever. You pulled it out of his pants, shamelessly looking down at it. He gulped and blushed in front of your fascination, your thumb carefully caressing his pink tip, collecting the clear and sticky precum that was already coating it. His cock was still growing, getting longer and harder in your palm, the veins under his flesh becoming more and more apparent. Then, it was your turn to gulp down and blush as you took in the size of it, wondering how you had even managed to take it all in without any pain the first time.

You lifted your eyes and met Sebastian’s gaze, staring at you with still a slight pink blush coloring his freckled cheeks. You had been so bold that he was waiting on you to take the lead and be in charge, this new side of you not helping him control himself and his urge to tear your school uniform off of your body and show you how wild he could get when it came to fucking you.

“Can I see you too ?” He asked, managing to act like a gentleman, although he truly wasn’t one, judging by the amount of filthy thoughts he had about you and what he wanted to do to you on a daily basis.

“Alright…” you agreed, your voice trembling slightly. You could understand his curiosity, after all, he hadn’t seen anything of you in that dark closet a month ago, only felt your body against his but your self confidence wasn’t at its best after being sick for almost an entire month, with your hormones acting up to make it worse.

He carefully reached out, popping open the buttons of your shirt one by one until you were left with nothing but your bra on. He looked at you questioningly, and you nodded, giving him a silent permission to remove it too.

His eyes instantly widened when your bra dropped on the tiles, your bare chest exposed to him.

“I didn’t think they would grow so much in so little time.” He stated, clearly dumbstruck by the view.

Your hand returned to the hard buldge between his legs, perking up at your touch as you closed your hand around it and pumped it up and down a few times, pulling him out of his daze and making him gasp in reaction. You didn’t think it possible but the movements made his cock grow even bigger and larger.

A groan dropped from his lips as he momentarily closed his eyes, as if he was struggling to keep control over himself.

“Sit.” He told you, his voice so low it sent shivers down your spine. His hands flew to your waist, already maneuvering you to get you in a sitting position over his lap.

You held your skirt up, your legs pressed on the cold tiles on either side of his thighs. His hand slipped underneath your clothes so swiftly you didn’t notice at first, until you felt his fingers pulling your panties aside, baring your very wet pussy.

With his other hand still on your waist, he guided you down until you were low enough for his erection to push past your entrance, stretching your walls as you sank lower and lower until his full size rested inside you.

You gasped at the sensation, your hands on his broad shoulders to help you support yourself and he grinned, the hand between your legs moving all the way up to your hair, gripping on a piece and pulling them back so that you’d bare your neck to him, allowing him to plant a few wet kisses all the way down to your collarbones as you still adjusted to his size inside you.

You slowly moved your hips in wide circles, exploring the pleasant sensations it sent throughout your entire body. He seemed to enjoy it too, his breathing instantly becoming ragged and desperate.

When you pushed on your knees, pulling yourself up before sitting back down and impaling yourself on his hard cock once again, you heard him curse under his breath. One of his hands held your skirt scrunched up in his fist while the other found your hip, guiding you in a faster rythym as you rocked up and down onto him many more times.

He pulled you closer to feel your swollen boobs on his face, appreciating the way they moved in synch with your hips, wanting to bury his face between them until he suffocated. Your moans and whimpers were causing his mind to go blank once again, unable to think about anything other than the pleasure you were apparently having while bouncing on his cock.

You dug your nails in his shoulders, the bliss bubbling up in your core becoming so intense it was almost unbearable. You would have slowed down, afraid of the strength of your own imminent orgasm, but Sebastian kept guiding you at an unrelenting pace, his tip hitting so deep inside your core each time that you barely managed to not let out a scream that could have echoed through the castle’s hallways, your body violently shaking and tensing with the pleasure that spilled into every fiber of your being.

Sebastian had been holding himself back from the very moment you pulled his cock out of his pants. In all honesty, he could have cummed in your hand right then and there but he had fought it long enough to make sure that you’d enjoy it too. He wanted to make you feel good as it felt like the only thing he could do to help you out right now, and now that your body had collapsed over him, effectively suffocating him with your plump chest, crying out his name in a way he would never forget, he allowed himself to come too, shooting his full load inside your still pulsating pussy.

“Are you okay ?” Your voice asked him, after a moment, your chest moving away from his face and leaving him cold.

“Of course.” He answered, panting and smiling. “What about you ?”

“I’m fine.” You told him which, for the first time in days, wasn’t a lie. You moved to sit next to him, his spent cock gliding out of you easily, drops of his white release lightly staining his pants and your skirt in the process. “You know, I think I’m kind of hungry now.”

“Ah! I told you it would work !” He exclaimed, excitedly. “What do you want to eat ?”

“A waffle with chocolate.” You told him, without hesitation.

“Alright, a chocolate covered waffle coming right up !” He nodded, immediately jumping to his feet, adjusting his clothes and walking away, determined to bring you exactly what you had requested. Surely, he’d be able to bribe a house elf for a waffle. And if not, he would sneak into the kitchen and cook one for you himself, how hard could it be ?

♡ - (( Tip Jar )) - ♡

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angelwings-crossbowstrings · 1 year ago

Text

Blood Ties Chapter 6

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore, allusions to suicide, morning sickness.

A/N: Okay, I screwed up on some of the timeline. I made a change in chapters 1 and 2 that reader and Daryl met up every 3 days instead of every 6. Also, I adjusted the amount of time between Rick waking up and actually making it to Atlanta. So instead of it being about 9 weeks into the outbreak, we’re about 12-13 weeks in when they are at the CDC. Rick’s timeline was really the only one I could work with, so I hope to hell it makes sense now. Anyway, on with the show!

Moodboard by @dannyo000 💙

Morning came way too quickly. In an environment where you should have felt at ease and been able to get restful sleep, you were a wreck. After fleeing Daryl’s room, you spent a long while curled up on the bed, folded into yourself as tightly as physically possible. You cried until you were exhausted, your eyes red and sore. In the end, sleep was not merciful enough to take you.

When the wall you were staring at began to distort and move, you finally deemed it necessary to leave the bed and force yourself to shower. You felt dirty. You had responded so vehemently to Daryl’s advances, quick to repudiate the pressing matter that would most certainly only continue to grow. You couldn’t blame the hunter for your actions.

With the water running and steam filling the small bathroom, you shed your clothing and stepped beneath the spray. It had been months without a proper shower, the water itself feeling like heaven against your skin. You hadn’t even realized how filthy you truly were until you saw the grimy water swirling at your feet. Scrubbing your skin was something you decided to savor; the same with washing your hair. You shampooed it twice before deciding you had probably abused the hot water rule and reluctantly shut it off.

The air in the bathroom was humid, still steamy, which made it a little less shocking to step out of the stall. After toweling yourself off, you wiped off the mirror with your hand, taking in your reflection. Circles under your eyes and a more angular look to your face; not sleeping and eating less and less as the world continued to deteriorate.

The mirror was small so you had to step back to get a look at your body, taking stock of things you hadn’t noticed while in a state of constant stress and fear. Your breasts were tender, but Daryl hadn’t exactly been gentle with them the night before. Other than that, nothing appeared different that could be blamed on pregnancy. You had definitely lost weight as you examined your stomach. Trying to track the days in your head without your calendar, you eventually estimated that you were only about 7 weeks. You would need some sort of book or would eventually need to ask Lori or Carol about the changes you could expect.

But that would mean telling them.

As you dressed, you wondered how long you might be able to hide it, assuming Daryl wouldn’t want his comrades to know since even giving them your name had been privileged information as far as he was concerned.

You left your room as quietly as possible, figuring it was really too early for anyone else to be awake. They would all probably sleep in now that they had the chance. You left your boots off, padding barefoot through the halls to the kitchen. Maybe there was some tea that would help settle your nervous stomach. It was dark, the lights off to conserve power. Pursing your lips, you looked toward the ceiling, feeling a bit ridiculous.

“VI, could you turn on the lights?”

The response was immediate with soft lighting chasing away the shadows in the room. You raised your brows in shock that the system had operated for you.

The kitchen was well stocked but you settled with some black tea and an apple. You probably wouldn’t be able to keep anything else down with the relentless nausea. Was this the result of stress or could it be morning sickness?

The silence and solitude helped more than you could have imagined, but all too soon, people began to shuffle in. Most of them appeared to be hung over, especially poor Glenn. To your surprise, almost everyone greeted you and asked how you slept. You dodged the question with a shrug each time. They seemed content with that and moved on to the next person.

T-Dog came into the cooking area and began digging through the contents of each cabinet and then the refrigerator, obviously intending to make something either for himself or perhaps for everyone. Carol came around to start coffee, offering you a squeeze to the bicep and a gentle smile that you returned.

You were nearly finished with your tea when the smell wafted through the air, sending your stomach into a revolt. You were quick to cover your mouth and nose, spinning to find T-Dog scrambling eggs. You audibly gagged before your feet moved of their own accord, carrying you quickly toward the door. To make matters worse, you had to bodily maneuver past Daryl to make your escape toward the privacy of your room.

Your meager breakfast was flushed down, the act of bringing it up leaving you more exhausted than you had already been. Maybe spending the day in bed wouldn’t be such a terrible thing.

You crawled onto the bed, melting into the soft mattress. In pure contradiction to your earlier predicament, your mind went blissfully blank and sleep found you almost immediately.

You jerked awake to the sound of a small knock at the door. You didn’t feel quite rested but you did feel better. Your stomach still felt uneasy but you didn’t foresee it forcing you to pray to the porcelain god anytime soon. Your body was reluctant to comply with your brain’s order to leave the bed but you soon found yourself in front of the door, pulling it open to meet the concerned face of Carol.

“Honey, how are you feeling?” She asked softly.

“I’m okay.” You answered tiredly, leaning against the door. The urge to go back to sleep for the foreseeable future was quite difficult to ignore.

“I know it’s none of my business but,” the woman dropped her gaze to her wringing hands, “it’s just that I couldn’t stand the smell of eggs when I was expecting Sophia. And I wasn’t just sick in the mornings. It was all the time, which made Ed—well, that doesn’t matter.”

You were already feeling the familiar tightness return to your chest, the uncomfortable fluttering inside your gut. “I—” You couldn’t possibly tell Carol. You hadn’t even told Daryl yet and he was the baby’s father. Still, the way she was looking at you. It was as if she was as desperate to have a friend as you were. “Please don’t tell anyone.” You relented, slumping even further against the door.

“Oh, don’t worry. I won’t. I just figured having someone that understands couldn’t be such a bad thing.” She shrugged with that sweet smile of hers.

You have no idea. You returned the smile. “Thank you.”

“Here.” She extended a hand, opening her palm to reveal several red and white candies. “Peppermint will sometimes help with morning sickness.” You stared for a moment before accepting, stuffing all but one into your pocket. You quickly unwrapped it and popped it into your mouth, yearning for some relief from the constant waves of nausea.

“Thanks. Really. You could tell me to sacrifice a chicken while standing on my head and I’d do it at this point.”

Carol covered her mouth and chuckled, the moment hanging briefly before her expression turned suddenly grim. “That isn’t the only reason I came by. I wanted to fill you in on some things Dr. Jenner told us this morning.”

That did not bode well. “Yeah, okay. Come in.” You stepped back and allowed her to enter, closing the door behind her.

Carol had finished retelling Jenner’s explanation and the two of you were sitting in solemn silence when the lights shut off. You figured the other woman was looking as puzzled as you were before the two of you clumsily found the door in the darkness. You opened it to find Dale and Lori in the hallway, others with their heads peeking out of their rooms.

Footsteps caught your attention just before Jenner passed you by, intercepted by Dale.

“Why is the air off?”

“And the lights in our room?” Lori added.

Another door opened, Daryl leaning out with that same bottle of liquor from the night before firmly in his grasp. “What’s goin’ on? Why’s ev’rythin’ turned off?”

Jenner seemed unbothered by the inquiries, casually swiping Daryl’s bottle in passing without missing a beat. “Energy use is being prioritized.”

Dale appeared taken aback. “Air isn’t a priority? And lights?”

Jenner tipped the bottle to his lips for a long swallow. “It’s not up to me. Zone 5 is shutting itself down.” Everyone filed out into the hall and began following the doctor, Daryl yelling at him as they walked.

Carol touched your arm but you nodded and gave her a gentle push to encourage her to go to her daughter. “I’m gonna put on my boots and I’ll be right behind you.”

Moments later, you entered the big room and started down the stairs to join everyone just as Daryl snatched back the liquor bottle from the doctor. Jenner failed to react, his eyes on Andrea.

“It was the French.”

The blonde stood puzzled. “What?”

“They were the last ones to hold out as far as I know. While our people were bolting out the doors and committing suicide in the hallways, they stayed in the labs till the end. They thought they were close to a solution.”

Jacqui spoke up as you came to stand next to her. “What happened?”

Jenner was utterly nonplussed. “The same thing that’s happening here. No power grid. Ran out of juice. The world runs on fossil fuel. I mean, how stupid is that?”

Shane stepped forward, his face twisted in anger. “Let me tell you—”

Rick was quick to interject. “To Hell with it, Shane. I don’t even care. Lori, grab our things. Everybody, get your stuff. We’re getting out of here now!”

Jacqui gently took your arm and urged you toward the door. “Oh, okay.” She said. It was obvious she was trying to maintain calm. Meanwhile, your heart was attempting to beat out from behind your ribcage. You barely made it to the middle of the stairs before a shrill alarm began blaring.

Amidst everyone’s panicked inquiries, the AI sounded overhead.

Thirty minutes to decontamination.

Daryl was worked up, his posture tense and expression angry. “Doc, what’s going on here?”

Jenner had weaved through the consoles to one on the end, scanning his badge and punching numbers on a keypad.

Shane continued to rally everyone onward. “Everybody, ya’ll heard Rick!”

Rick joined in the urging. “Get your stuff and let’s go! Go now! Go!”

Others were shouting as you climbed the remaining stairs and headed for the exit. There was a whirring clang as the door slid shut just before you could reach it. You were trembling, steps on autopilot while your brain raced through every possible outcome of the situation. None of them were pleasant. You didn’t even remember descending the stairs again but found yourself back on the lower level, watching Shane and Rick restrain Daryl.

You were in shock, only registering key words in the intense conversation happening around you.

“…locked down…”

“…28 minutes…”

“…catastrophic power failure…”

“…it sets the air on fire…”

Daryl ran past you with an axe, threatening the man that had just condemned you all to die.

And then, as Daryl was being held back and everyone shouted and cried, the doctor was speaking directly to you.

“You. You don’t want to bring that innocent baby into this nightmare. This is a mercy.”

Your eyes widened and immediately sought out Daryl, who had gone still and silent. T-Dog was able to pull the axe away from him, the redneck being too busy staring back at you, his expression equal parts anger and shock.

“You’re pregnant?” Dale exclaimed, releasing his hold on Daryl.

“You do want this! All of you!” Jenner secured everyone’s attention with the exception of you and Daryl.

While the pandemonium dragged on, the two of you were frozen. Your eyes pleaded with him to understand. He had no way of knowing how long you had known; whether or not you had lied about taking a test. He was only aware that you knew and you didn’t tell him. He was breathing fast through his nose, nostrils flaring.

When he finally looked away, it felt as if your bones turned to jelly. You slid down in front of one of the stations and pulled your knees to your chest, fighting off yet another episode of panicked emotion.

Distantly, you were aware of things happening around you. A shot was fired. The axe was hitting the door again. Everyone was yelling, pleading.

Jenner hadn’t been offering you a medical alternative. He was telling you that this was going to happen. You could have warned everyone. You could have done something!

Now, everyone was going to die. You were going to die. Your baby was going to die. Your choice was made for you and the only thing you could think was that it was not the choice you would have made. You wanted this baby, Daryl or no Daryl. You wanted the chance to be a mother. You wanted your baby to have a chance.

Feet began to pass by in front of you, but you were slow to respond, only looking up when someone grabbed your upper arm.

Blue eyes. Angry, concerned, panicked blue eyes.

“Get up.” Daryl ordered, hauling you to your feet. His hand slid down your arm to your wrist, and he pulled you along behind him. When you reached the hallway of rooms, he let go. “Get your bag.” You watched him start to walk away but found yourself still unable to make your feet move. Daryl snarled and ran back to you, grabbing your shoulder to give you a none-too-gentle shake. He leaned in, his face inches from yours, eyes blazing but voice calmer. “Y/N. Get your bag.”

It only took a heartbeat, but finally, you nodded and pulled away from him. You only had the clothes from the day before to grab and shove inside the bag. You had to shuffle around in the dark but somehow, you successfully gathered your things and stepped out into the hall just as Daryl was approaching. He still had the axe in one hand, his crossbow hanging from one shoulder and his pack from the other.

“Go. Go, go!” He threw out his hand to urge you forward. This time, you didn’t hesitate. You met up with the group, gathering at the front doors. They were still sealed. While the men were trying to break the glass of a large window, you noticed missing faces. Hoping you weren’t overstepping your boundaries, you laid a hand on Lori’s shoulder.

“Not everyone’s here.” You felt stupid once the words were out. Of course she knew people were missing. They were her people. Surprisingly, she just gave you a mournful look and shook her head. What did that mean? Your expression shifted to disbelief. Unless Jenner had killed them or sealed the doors with them still inside with him, they had a chance. You had to go get them. You had to help. You had to—

“Get down!” You heard Daryl yell just before he dragged you to the floor, shielding you with his body. The surface beneath you vibrated, glass shards scattering across the lot of you. “C’mon!” He pulled you along again, this time by your hand.

“Wait!” You yelled, your sudden stop causing him to lurch backward. The hunter growled in annoyance as you stopped to pick up his crossbow and bag. He didn’t take your hand again but you were right behind him, careful of the swinging axe when he took a walker’s head clean off.

Everyone sought shelter in the separate vehicles, Daryl leading you straight to his truck and opening the driver’s side door while snatching the weapons and bags to toss them carelessly in the back. “In! Get in!” He was almost shoving you while you scrambled inside and tried to cross into the passenger seat to give him room. However, his fingers snagged the back of your shirt and pulled you back toward him while, at the same time, he closed the door. You were pushed down toward the floorboards with Daryl’s body covering you once again.

The explosion was massive. The truck rocked violently; the blast so loud that it left your ears ringing. You felt Daryl’s weight shift before it was gone completely, his hands on your arms to help you up into the seat even as he stared out the window. You followed his line of sight and gasped. The building had all but disintegrated. Cars, trucks, tanks: just gone. You felt only a slight relief at seeing Glenn wave Andrea and Dale into the RV. Maybe Jacqui was in there too. You weren’t a part of their group, but they were living breathing people. And that meant they mattered.

“Hey.” You slowly turned your head toward Daryl, his hands patting down your arms, your face, your stomach. The concern he was showing was odd but not unwelcome. “Y’alright? Hurt anywhere?”

You shook your head. “No. No, I’m okay.” And right before your eyes, his expression morphed and twisted into bitter anger.

“Good. Best sit there an’ just be quiet.” His voice was low, bordering on threatening. He started up the engine, cracking his neck while his eyes burned into the vehicle in front of the truck.

“Daryl, I was gonna—”

“Did I stutter or ya just hard’a hearin’?” He roared, not even looking your way.

You took in a deep breath, fighting back the tears with everything you had. You had fucked up, that was true. Maybe you deserved his wrath but you’d accept it with grace. Well, you would at least try. If there was any hope at all of fixing this—of getting through it at least civilly—you would need to let him cool down.

As Daryl turned the truck around, pulling up the rear of the caravan, you watched the column of black smoke from what once was the CDC spiral up to layer across the Atlanta sky.

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lunarw0rks · 1 year ago

Note

hi! im not sure if you do any requests like this but if you wouldn't mind, with ghost or konig, where the reader is depressed and has suicidal ideations and ghost/konig save them before it's too late? ive gone through somewhat similar things and it would be comforting reading someone be there for them!

A/N: I don't mind requests like this, just read with caution, please! To anon, or anyone reading that has gone through this, you deserve happiness and are loved!! "988" is the nationwide hotline ♡

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° I hope you don't mind, but I chose Ghost since I haven't written for Kӧnig (YET) Italics are Simon's perspective when it's happening at the same time as reader.

Summary: You feel swallowed by depression, but Simon saves you just in time.

Warning(s): depression, talk of suicide, PTSD themes - DO NOT READ IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU!!, established relationship, GN!Reader, no use of y/n, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff at the end

Word Count: 1.5k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST // have a request? ♡¸.•*' | ao3 ver.

In Your Arms // Drabble

The world's weight had been on your shoulders; the constriction on your chest gave you a constant state of crisis, the strain on your heart soon to break it to pieces, and most of all the strain on your mind.

Each waking moment was a gamble of numbness or overdrive. In the instances of numbness, you were withdrawn, coasting your way through meals, laying awake at night with a blank stare. When you were in overdrive, it was like each bad thought physically pilled itself atop you, increasing your irritability and defensiveness.

It was as if the real you were trapped inside somewhere, but you were being overruled by an enclosure of gloom.

Chores, conversations, and the people you loved dearly became a melancholy hassle. You hated every second of it, and most of all hated yourself for behaving like this. At first, you were begging for an out—some savior to snap you out of it.

But now, you felt hopeless—and were making plans to give yourself that out.

You finally had an opportunity, a few hours where you’d have the house to yourself, with Simon out for a few hours. The problem was, gathering the courage. Even though you had the thoughts raining down on you, it was a decision you would never be able to take back.

You were sat in the shared bedroom, on top of the bed you’d just remade. It had been God knows how long by now, and all you could do was stare blankly at the wall ahead, choking back sobs. You looked at his side of the room, seeing the stark contrast between his and yours.

When you thought of him, how he’d be better off this way, it nudged you toward your answer.

Simon noticed your off-balance behavior the day he arrived home. Despite telling you how lovely you looked, he could tell the isolation of his deployment had taken its toll. The bags under your eyes, the dark circles worsening, your sudden change in eating habits—something he greeted like an old friend.

He, of all people, understood the feeling. He just didn’t know how to confront it.

He was never good with his words, or his ability to provide comfort physically; he relied on his crisis training, and most of all, how much he loved you.

When he said he was going out with friends, he was. At first. He found himself sitting in the driveway with a pit in his stomach, his anxieties swallowing him. He was protective, to begin with, but paired with the behavior changes, he was practically trembling at the thought of something horrible happening.

He was white-knuckling the steering wheel, debating on spending his night inside with you. Guilt consumed him for even considering going out anywhere when you’d waited months for him.

His stomach was in knots, twisting and turning, begging him to give in to nausea overtaking him any second. Something was wrong, something was going to happen.

You were fighting yourself again. The thoughts were racing so hard you could swear you heard them buzzing around your head like an angry swarm of wasps, each of them a stinger in your skin.

You reached for the nearest object—the remote—then stood to your feet, sending it plummeting towards the wall in front of you. It shattered the hanging picture frame on impact, sending shards of glass around the bedroom.

It did nothing to silence the thoughts. The sudden rush of fury only fueled them, begging for you to do something more to stop them—the only option you felt you had left.

He had his car door open, gathering his things before he was on his way inside. He’d made his decision, he would rather spend the night with you.

Simon’s trained ear heard the faint shatter of glass, seeing that the upstairs bedroom was the only one lit. There was no hesitation; no second thought to make sure it wasn’t a critter in the garbage can or another household.

He unlocked the door swiftly, a hand hovering over the holster underneath his jacket. The downstairs was clear, nothing askew. He next went up the stairs, leaning in the direction of the bedroom to pick up any sound coming from it.

In his mind, he was fearing the worst, paired with the anxiety he was already having in the car. He’d been here before, with too many people. It couldn’t, no, wouldn’t happen again, not with you.

When the door creaked open, it revealed you, shriveled against the wall with your head in your hands. Beside you, was a broken picture frame, sent flying into pieces around the room. His mind put the pieces together—the irritability, the insomnia, the withdrawn behavior, his gut feeling—all coming together now.

But his worst fears hadn’t come true. You were alive. Alive, and in need of his help. His gut feeling, that painful ache in his stomach when he left, it was right.

His knees dropped to the ground beside you, ignoring the slices forming through his clothes. His entire focus was on you, nothing else.

“Love…” He whispered, grabbing ahold of your knee to make you look his way. When your pooled eyes met him again, he felt like his heart had been ripped in two.

The sight of you, the pain written in your expression. Not physical pain, not heartache, but hopelessness. A specific, known too well by him, expression.

Simon could barely stand it, the person he practically breathed for, fought for, succumbing to their sorry—and he could’ve been too late. The warmth of your flesh under his fingertips, how it shivered, he knew you were still here, still breathing.

He was at a loss for words, even for a man who spoke very little. Angry at himself, not you, for not saying something earlier on. His withdrawal was both a blessing and a curse—a lesson well learned, now that his life with you had flashed before him.

Without a second thought, he scooped you up, setting you gently on the neat bed. He remained standing in front of you, staring down at you with a foggy expression.

“I’m sorry,” You muttered, blinded by the tears.

Simon visibly shook his head, forcing yours into his chest. It wasn’t your fault, and if he could force you to believe that, he would. He didn’t have words to give you, only the comfort of his presence. He just held you; held onto your frame as you wept into his abdomen, soaking through the fabric of his tee.

Tears only teased at his own eyes, but never made it past them. Though internally, he was weeping for you, nearly inconsolable.

It was his job to follow orders, to do his duty. His duty now, was you. He had to be strong for you, always, otherwise he had no purpose left on this Earth.

When the sobs had turned into defeated sniffles, he dropped to his knees to meet your eye level. Him, never one for eye contact, but he couldn’t take his eye off you now.

“I’m here now, I promise.” His deep voice echoed through the room, bouncing off your repines for his comfort.

You were still in shock, how one minute ago you were so close to the edge, but the next he was by your side. The sorrow only subsided for the moment, but with him as a distraction, you knew you had at least one person there for you. One person who understood what you were going through, no doubt about it.

His large hands, the ones stained with the blood of his hands, gently cradling your face until you were lucid enough to give him your full attention. He was there for you, no matter how hard the stubborn thoughts tried to convince you he wasn’t.

They moved from your face, to your neck and arms, then your fingers, searching for any sign of physical injury.

“Let me help you, please…” Simon placed a small kiss on one of the tear droplets streaming down, wiping away the rest with his thumb. His hand went down again, clasping around yours tenderly as he routed you to the shared bathroom.

He grabbed a spare cloth off the rack, wetting it slightly in the sink as he traced it along each tear stain, his other hand on your waist the entire time. He was focused and stiff, but his eyes were gentle.

When he finished, he cupped your face again, touching his lips to yours, then your temple. “You are everything to me, got it?” He whispers against your forehead, eyes still wide, reeling with the shock of nearly losing you.

Your head was in his chest again as one hand remained on your waist, the other holding your head in place. He was savoring this, not taking you for granted for a second.

Deep inside, he was picturing all those months he’d left you alone to feel like this.

How each tear he wiped was a lash of regret. He was going to make up for it from now on. Whether he could help you one on one, or you talk to a professional, he would back you every step of the way.

That was his duty.

#simon riley x reader #mw2 fanfic #mw2 #simon riley #call of duty #task force 141 #ghost mw2 #task force 141 x reader #simon riley fluff #simon riley angst #tw depression

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lliminall · 2 years ago

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(Yan) “Chrollo, why were you crying before? ….Are you alright?”

tags: gn reader, yandere, chrollo being big sad and a little bit unhinged

In the dark shadow of the room, you could almost convince yourself that Chrollo is praying as he glances up at you. Sat hunched on the bed, elbows resting on his knees, hands folded against his forehead as his dark eyes open to meet yours. It would be a funny thought, if it wasn’t so unsettling to see a man of his composure unraveling before you.

For a moment he says nothing, and you wonder if you shouldn’t have said anything about it at all. If you should have stayed in the bathroom and pretended to busy yourself in the shower for another half hour. It feels almost violative to witness him in this state. Your hand itches to flip the switch of the bathroom light, plunge the room into darkness and wipe the image of that expression from your mind.

Chrollo stands and crosses the room in just a few short steps. His hands find rest on the curves of your cheeks, thumbs meandering along the lines of your face.

“I’ve lost someone very important to me,” he says. “Someone I should have been able to protect.”

His eyes are sad, too sad for a man of his kind. It’s wrong on his face, wrong on his body, for someone who’s caused so much grief to be crumbling under the weight of it himself.

“One of your friends again?” you ask.

“Yes,” Chrollo answers with a sad smile. “One of my oldest friends. And there is someone on this boat who is determined to take more from me.”

Your stomach churns nauseatingly. You aren’t sure if it’s the motion of the sea or the man in front of you causing it. Chrollo pulls you into his body, pressing his forehead against yours. He looks at you like he wants to absorb you through his skin. Catalog every detail, every sight, sound, and touch of you in the library of his mind. It feels too much like he’s bracing to lose it. To lose you.

“I see now that I’ve been an idiot,” he says. “Arrogant. An arrogant fool. I didn’t understand how close I was to losing all of you.”

Nausea. Cold, creeping nausea. You want him to drop this unfamiliar act, to become the strong and unwavering force he has always been to you. He can’t be weak. He’s made himself into the only support you have, and he can’t be weak now.

Something sharpens in his gaze.

“But I won’t make the same mistake again. I’ve been weak before, in a long distant past. Did you know that?” He smiles at you as you shake your head. “No, and I won’t be again, now or any time in our future.”

His hands tighten around your face.

“I will be anything, become anything, do anything it takes to keep what belongs to me.”

Nausea. Nausea. Your hands press against his chest in a weak attempt to put space between yourself and this man you don’t recognize. He can’t be this now. Fraying at the ends. He has to be your only constant. Your strong and unbroken constant.

At the pressure on his chest, Chrollo seems to find himself again. The edge in his eyes softens and he’s looking at you again like you’re his favorite dog, shivering while the thunder rages just outside your shelter. Firm hands press your face into the warmth of his chest.

“Chrollo, please. You’re scaring me.” The tremble of your voice muffles into the fabric of his shirt.

“Don’t be afraid, love,” he says. “Nothing is going to to take you from me. And if he tries to—“ his breath catches with a wave of emotion. The fingers in your hair tighten.

The air around you becomes thick with something powerful and suffocating, something cold and cruel that makes your joints lock and skin prickle. It fades as quickly as it comes, and Chrollo breathes slowly, deeply beside you. His hand caresses your hair in slow strokes, an imitation of comfort that does more to ground himself than to sooth you.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t cause you to worry about this.” Warm lips press into the crown of your head before he tugs you away from his body to look into your eyes. “You’re safe with me. You always are.”

There’s a knock on the door. He leaves you to turn and pluck his coat from the bed, taking the warmth of his body with him, and you are left standing in the chill of the room with cold skin and damp hair.

“I’ll only be gone a moment,” he says. “Dry yourself off quickly. We’ll be moving rooms again tonight.”

He steps into the hallway where another voice greets him, and the door clicks shut behind him.

Your hair is dripping onto the tile beneath your feet. Chrollo’s voice fades into the depths of the hallway, further, further, until it’s gone.

You lock the door with shaking hands.

#chrollo smuggling reader onto the black whale in one of those jumbo doggy carriers #no sir this is my emotional support kidnapping victim #how else will I emotionally recover from the deaths of my friends if I can’t go home and mope to her every time my mortal enemy strikes #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo x reader #chrollo #yandere chrollo #hxh x reader #chrollo imagine #yandere chrollo imagine #yandere hxh x reader #my works.ll #chrollo.ll #hxh.ll #asks.ll

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oleander-nin · 1 year ago

Text

Horrortober Day 22- Mark(Yandere Rise Donnie x Reader)

A/N, not important: Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: blood, kidnapping, caged + restrained, description of death, slight gore(?), being branded(?)

Words: 1945

Summary: The purple dragons pushed Donnie too far and Donnie refuses to lose you.

Nausea rolls through you, pushing you back into a state of consciousness. You felt stuck, small walls pushing at your sides and metal digging into your side. The only source of light you could see was a single, flickering, fluorescent bulb in the middle of the room outside your keep, the artificial light burning your retinas and your eyes watering from the bright heat flashes. Its constant flickering made your eyes burn, the room flashing between dark and dim in short bursts. You slowly blink, trying to quell the headache and the numbness in your limbs while you groan. Voices can be heard around you, drilling into your head and making it spin. You try to lift up your hands, wanting to press the palms into your eyes to help the burn, but find them stuck behind your back. Your mind goes blank, confusion making your eyes go into focus as the heaviness in your mind starts to lift.

Donnie didn’t use ropes. With his tech and now mystics, he’d always used something metal and lockable. Something you had no chance of getting out of. You carefully roll over, your eyes drifting to look out the bars of the cage you were in, shoes and legs right in front of you. Your eyebrows furrow and panic starts to spike in your heart, slowly realizing you weren’t with Donnie anymore, and you weren't sure this was better. The voices continue to sound, now clearer that your mind has started to kick out the fuzz. Craning your neck, you can see the faces of your new kidnappers, the bright purple jackets sparking your interest. You weren’t sure who they were, but the color and style peaked your interest. You were sure you had seen them somewhere before, but couldn’t place it. The only thing now was just hoping they were kinder then Donatello.

You watch the animated arguing between the lavender-haired girl and the small boy with glasses, her voice raising with each syllable. While half the words were still muffed in your cottony ears, you could tell what it was about. They were arguing about you. How they got you here was still a mystery considering you don’t remember leaving Donnie’s lab since he first brought you there. Even your poor excuses of escape attempts didn’t lead you farther than the first split of the sewer tunnels.

“So, Jason,” The purple girl spits, her face slowly going red with anger. “Tell me how you managed to grab them, but forget to leave the note?! How else are we supposed to get Othello here?”

Jason shrinks in on himself, his shoulders touching his ears as he takes a step back from the angry girl. He starts to respond, but her voice carries over, completely bulldozing over his response and continuing her tangent. Your eyes drift over the room, no longer finding the fighting interesting. Your eyes meet with the third member’s, his dark eyes boring into yours. His eyebrows raise while he stares back at you, conflicted on what he should do. He tries to gain the attention of the rampaging girl, but she just snaps at him and he quickly gives up.

You shrink back into your cage, shaking your head while trying to silently plead with the man to not let her know. Your brain supplied you with dangerous thoughts and images, knowing that the leader would not react well to you. From how she was acting, she seemed already to be on edge, and you would much rather her take it out on the thin boy than on you. In an act of what you assumed was pity, the dark skinned boy keeps his mouth shut, only leaning against the wall to also watch the fight. You let yourself relax, breathing out in relief while the two fighting pay no mind to you nor the third member.

A loud crash sounds and your head perks up, your pupils shrinking while the arguing kidnappers grow quiet. No one speaks for a moment, the whole room silent as you all wait for something new to happen. The lavender headed woman speaks up, her voice steady as she reaches for a remote.

“Grab your drones, someone’s here.” She hisses, gesturing for them to follow her out the door. The two men shrug, both filing out the room as well, all seeming confident to get rid of whatever intruder happened upon their base. The door closes and locks with a small click, your eyes staring at the door willing for the young man who kept your secret to come back. You didn’t want to be alone, even if your only possible company was three assumed criminals.

You don’t hear anything for a while, the silence eating at your mind. You roll onto your other side, trying to make yourself more comfortable in the cage that was in the wall. Loud screams make your blood run cold, your eyes darting to the door once more. As they continue, nausea and panic strikes you. You wished more than anything the silence would return again. You move to the back of the cage, your heart pounding while tears brim and spill from your eyes. A final cry sounds before the area is encased in silence one more, a silence that suffocates and tries to bore out your heart. Your eyes blur from the tears and panic coursing through your veins, only noticing the door was being opened from the creak of the hinges.

You hold your breath, your tears running silently down your cheeks as pressure grows in your chest. A familiar voice calls out, green skin and purple bands emerging from the darkness. His dark eyes were cold with fury, but you somehow knew it wasn’t aimed at you. His eyes sweep the room before landing on you, his gaze locked on yours from the door. He crosses the room, kneeling before your cage and ripping the bars from the hinges. You continue to cry, unsure whether to be pleased or scared to see him once more. Only up close could you see the blood staining his hands, the black wrappings around his forearms damp with the same liquid.

You cringe back from his outstretched hands, gagging at the smell that follows them. Donnie notices and backs off. He stares at you for a moment, his face losing the anger it held before as he looks down at his palms. He hums in surprise, his own face twisting in disgust like he only just noticed the blood that coated his fingers.

“Apologies,” He mutters, trying to wipe off the red stains on a handkerchief that his battle-shell supplies. “I hadn’t noticed their filthy blood on my hands.”

He dumps a generous amount of hand sanitizer on his palms, the clear gel taking the stains and grime off while he wipes it away with the same cloth. His hands now clean, he tries again, not letting you avoid his grip. He tsks in disapproval at the sight of the rope on your arms and legs. Not bothering to try and untie it, he simply cuts it off with an arm of his shell, pulling you into his lap now that you are free. His beak presses into the crook of his neck, his heart faintly beating through the hard confines of his plastron. He breathes deeply, his hands wrapping around you and holding you close, not giving you the chance to slip off him and run. You changed ownership again, back into the arms of your familiar monster.

You shiver at the feeling of his breath on your neck, your own heart beating up a storm from the stress of the situation. He picks you up soon after, his grip shifting but not loosening in the slightest. You’re both silent as he leads you back through the warehouse you were kept in, blood spattering the rooms Donnie met the trio in. Your stomach lurches at the sight of their mangled bodies, blood and flesh stuck to the walls where the skinny boy’s head seemed to have been smashed against. You couldn’t recognize the woman’s face anymore, her nose splintered and bone structure split. You don’t let yourself look at the young man who kept your secret, not wanting to know how his blood was spilled as well. You close your eyes and bury your face into the murder’s neck, trying to not sob from the brutal scene he caused.

The wind is harsh when you exit, as if the world knew of the recent sins that the hands holding you caused. You try to keep your breathing steady, not wanting to cry in front of Donnie. He’s already seen so much of you, and you’re tired of crying in front of someone who never cared for your tears.

He sets you on the floor of the tank, letting the door to the vehicle close and lock behind him. Instead of getting into the driver seat immediately, he kneels in front of you, his eyes heavy and hands damp while he holds your face. The strong scent from the recently used hand sanitizer makes your eyes burn, not helping you in the attempt to hold back tears. He coos down at you, rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs in a poor attempt to comfort you. The blood still stains his forearms, drying on the fabric and breaking off into small dust that coats the floor. Donnie either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care, his eyes focused on you.

“I’m never letting this happen again. I’m not letting anyone else try to take what’s mine.” He murmurs, his eyes hardening at the memory of waking up without you near. He sucks in a deep breath, his hands finally leaving you as his eyes and markings start to glow. A small flashlight looking object forms in his hands, his eyes returning to the familiar black but his marks still bright with power. He takes your chin while you're still confused, moving too fast to give you a chance to process what he was doing.

He presses the head of the object into the flesh of your neck, a small click sounding while your skin buzzes from what feels like a shock. You yelp and try to pull away, but he holds you steady for a few more seconds, shushing your cries of discomfort. He lets the object fade out of existence once he pulls it from your neck, his thumb rubbing over the tingling skin. You pull away from him and he lets you, a smile on his face when he sits in the driver's seat and finally starts the tank.You continue to sit there even as he starts to drive, rubbing at the skin of your neck despite the weird feeling long gone. You stumble to your feet, moving to one of the side chairs to sit in. You let your eyes drift to the window, your mind drifting and reeling. You felt numb, like you were stuck in between consciousness and oblivion and couldn’t decide whether to stay awake or let the darkness console you. Your reflection stares back at you, the bright lights from the outside making the window a transparent mirror. Your eyes fall to your neck and your stomach rolls, your mind stuttering to a halt. Right on your neck, vibrant and nearly glowing was Donnie’s mark, clear as day on your skin. Your hand reaches up, trying to smudge it off, but it stays firm. You were marked, branded in the same way as his inventions as something he owned.

Donnie had made you his, now and forever.

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nebulaafterdark · 2 years ago

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Heyy girlie, can we please get another smutty Harwin one-shot?🧎🏻‍♀️Maybe one where reader is already a few months pregnant with the fourth child, and they're trying to get at it while they're visiting family (any major house/castle) for a few months?

Hey! I’m gonna just jump to every conclusion that this is Queen’s Hand related, because you mentioned their fourth child. If not, shameless plug, go read The Queen’s Hand. Thanks for requesting!

My Princess

Summary: Princess Y/N Targaryen and her husband Ser Harwin are visiting her sister Rhaenyra on Dragon Stone. Harwin wants a few minutes alone.

18+ ONLY, SMEXY TIMES

When Y/N discovers she is pregnant, both she and her husband are in shock. They had not been trying for another child, in fact they carefully prevented it. As they are parents to three wonderful children already, the youngest of whom, their only son, caused his mother a great deal of hardship on the birthing bed.

The princess panicked, as did Harwin, though he never made his apprehension known. He simply loved her through it, that’s what Harwin does, he loves her through it. Through the first weeks of tears and constant worry, through the nausea and morning sickness, to the bump that makes itself known at the half way mark of her term.

Now they are off visiting Rhaenyra, Daemon and their children on Dragon Stone. It will be the last time they travel dragon back before the birth of the new babe.

Harwin loves his wife, their children and her family. Forever loyal to the mighty house Targaryen. Spending time with her lot has never bothered him, but getting Y/N alone is nearly impossible.

The children run her round until all hours, and when it is time to retire, Rhaenyra finds her way to their chambers. The sisters have never been apart as they are now, so when they are together, separating them is difficult.

While Ser Harwin will never voice his frustration, Daemon has no problem doing so.

“I want my wife in my bed.” The Prince tells Rhaenyra, leaning against the doorframe. Though he loves Y/N, enough is enough and the line must be drawn somewhere.

“Oh alright,” Rhaenyra waves him over.

Daemon smirks at her, “goodnight, Y/N. Goodnight, Ser Harwin.”

“Goodnight.” Y/N yawns as the door closes behind them.

Harwin huffs a laugh, seating himself at the foot of their guest mattress.

“Are you not pleased, my love?” The Princess taps a toe to his back.

“I am quite pleased, Princess. Finally I have you alone.” He turns, catching her foot. “All night.”

Y/N grins at him, stroking a hand over her belly. There are stories she heard coming up, about men who wouldn’t touch their wives when they were with child. That sex was for producing heirs and once that was done, there was no farther need. The knight would hear none of that.

“See,” he looks to his wife. “You’re proud of what you’ve done.”

“I am proud that you find me attractive in this state, yes.”

“Do you want to know the truth of it?”

Y/N nods as Harwin takes her foot, laying a kiss to her ankle.

“I find you attractive in every state, but this,” his lips move higher, up her shin to the knee. “Is a privilege. To watch you swell with my child, our child, created solely from my love for you…” The groan that rubbles out from low in his chest has Y/N sucking her bottom lip between her teeth.

The Princess tells him. “I would bear you a hundred children, if I could.”

He stops to nuzzle her belly before continuing upwards, feathering light kisses to the low neckline of her dress. Her breasts swollen and sensitive from the growing babe. “But we must not take chances, my love. I do not intend to outlive you.”

“I know that you worry…and for good reason.” After the last time. After both of their mothers and countless women who’ve lost their lives on the birthing bed. “But I am here now because of you.”

“You are here now because you are strong. I will do everything within my power to aid in the timely and easy birth of this child.”

Y/N pecks a kiss to his cheek. “You are a selfless and noble man.”

He turns to catch her lips. “I am nothing without you.” Harwin murmurs, with reverence. Peeling away the layers of her clothes while the Princess makes quick work of his own.

Her eyes find his as they break apart, cupping his face, stroking her thumbs over his cheeks. Struggling to find words for the emotion that tugs deep within the strings of her heart.

“I know.” Harwin assures her, with gentle kisses to her forehead and nose.

Y/N nods, leaning into his touch. Harwin and their children are the world to her, she shows them everyday. Though the right sentiments evade her, love for them does not.

They fall onto the mattress, Harwin holding his weight above her, mindful of their child.

“Closer,” Y/N pleads, tugging him toward her lips.

“Turn around for me.” Harwin leans back on his heels, with a little love tap to his wife’s behind as she moves to face away from him.

She smirks, swatting at his hand. “Ser Harwin!”

“Forgive me, Princess.” He chuckles, lining his cock up with her hot little cunt.

Y/N is not one for formalities, not with her beloved husband, and certainly not in their marriage bed. However she is not above teasing and through his love, she finally found a love for her title.

“My princess.” He breathes against the shell of her ear.

It sends a shiver down her spine. “Please.”

The knight groans, easing himself into her. “Fuck, sweetheart.” He smooths a hand over her back, gentling her into her forearms. His thrusts are slow and deep, teasing at that spot within her.

Y/N whimpers, twisting her fingers in the bed sheets, in the absences of his hand.

“Longed for you all day. For this. To bring you back to our rooms and bury myself inside you.”

“I?” She had done nothing but chase children round the castle.

“Always you, only you.” Harwin says between gritted teeth, her walls tight around his length, her wetness growing with each pass.

Y/N hums, low in her throat as his hands angle her hips just so…so deep, the tip of him kissing her cervix with each pass. “Fuck.” It’s nearly too much.

“Come here, sweetheart. Back up on your knees, lean against me.” I want to kiss you.

The Princess obeys, bringing her back to her husband’s chest, allowing him to support her weight with gentle arms held around her. One hand sneaking down to toy with her bundle of nerves. “Harwin,” she all but wails.

His poor, sensitive, sweet wife, completely at his mercy. “Hush now,” the knight whispers, turning her face toward him slightly, swallowing her cries as he takes her breast in hand. Rolling her sensitive nipple to a firm peak.

Her first orgasm surprises them both, churning her insides to molten lava. Tears cascading over her cheeks, mouth open wide, panting. Squealing in protest when his movements do not cease.

“Shhh,” Harwin cooes, thumbing feather light circles over her pearl. “Gentle. I will be gentle.”

Her cunt still pulses around him, encouraging his thrusts to continue.

“Don’t fight, let it come, sweetheart.”

The pleasure is blinding, surely she will die of it. Y/N has both hands tightly fisted in his dark curls. “I- Harwin.”

“I know,” Harwin soothes a hand along her side. “I’ve got you. Make a mess on my cock.”

She sobs her release into the quiet air of their guest quarters. Soaking him in her slick and knocking his greedy fingers from her clit. “Enough. Cum for me now.”

He thrusts into her thrice more before finding his release. Coming down to the feel of his wife’s gentle kisses, delicate fingers stroking his hair. Falling onto their sides to catch their breath.

“I love you.” Y/N yawns, beginning to doze already.

“I love you, Y/N.” More than you will ever know. More than words can say.

#hotd smut #house of the dragon #ser harwin strong #harwin smut #ser harwin #harwin strong x reader #harwin strong x you #harwin strong #harwin imagine #harwin strong smut #harwin x reader #ser harwin x reader

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swan-of-sunrise · 3 months ago

Text

Taking Care of Business (Chapter Forty-Six)

Summary: Din worries about (Y/N) and her inexplicable illness but when he returns to Nevarro from a hunt, he's met with a stunning surprise.

Pairing: Din Djarin X F!Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Hi guys! I promised you guys fluff in this chapter, so fluff you shall receive! Thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Forty-Six The Surprise (Previous Chapter)

From the moment they first met, Din Djarin knew that Captain (Y/N) (Y/L/N) was a strong, intelligent and courageous woman. She could out-fly seasoned pilots without breaking a sweat, draw her blaster quicker than any hot-shot gunslinger in the Outer Rim and strategize the most complex battle plans with nothing more than a few words of intel and her immense determination. In all the time he’d known her, she’d survived cuts, burns, sprains, breaks, concussions and blaster wounds and had come out on the other side of all of them tougher and stronger than before, and that wasn’t even accounting for the injuries she’d sustained as a smuggler for both herself and for the Rebel Alliance. Needless to say, Din knew that his wife could take care of herself on and off the battlefield, which was why her current bout of illness was worrying him so much.

At first, Din chalked (Y/N)’s cramping, headaches and fatigue up to anxiety; in between helping him capture bounties for the New Republic, the captain had been hard at work preparing her brand-new seamstress shop for its grand opening, setting up the shop’s inviting interior by hand and training a handful of assistants to work the various machines. She was thrilled to finally make her dream of practicing her mother’s trade a reality, but it was clear that she was also nervous about the new venture. It wasn’t until her near-constant nausea and vomiting began that Din started growing concerned for his wife’s dwindling health; he’d all but begged her to visit Nevarro’s health clinic for a check-up, his mounting worry even trumping his deep-rooted mistrust of droids.

Unfortunately, the captain’s scheduled appointment clashed with Din’s mission to apprehend an escaped Imperial informant and just as he prepared to inform Captain Teva that he was unable to accept the mission, (Y/N) insisted that he still go after the bounty and that she’d be fine going to the health clinic by herself. Din, less than pleased with the arrangement but unwilling to add to her stress by arguing, kissed his wife and son goodbye and left for Manpha; he used all of his well-honed bounty hunting skills to track down and capture the Imp in less than twenty-four hours, dropping him off on Adelphi for Captain Teva to legally apprehend on behalf of the New Republic and speeding through the Hydian Way back home to Nevarro.

“Welcome to Nevarro, independent trade anchor and Outer Rim Hyperlane port. Please state the purpose of your-”

“Jarsa, I know you know that I live here. You don’t have to ask me to state the purpose of my visit every kriffing time I return home.”

Din could practically hear the docking bay manager’s exasperated eye-roll before she stiffly replied, “And as I’ve already told you, Mando, if you have a complaint about our regulations then you’ll have to take it up with Magistrate Karga. Please state the purpose of your visit, please.”

After muttering a string of curses under his breath, Din heaved a sigh and replied through gritted teeth, “Returning to my place of residence. Happy?”

“You may now initiate landing sequences. Have a pleasant day.”

Din grumbled a biting insult in Mando’a as he expertly landed the N-1 Starfighter down onto their assigned spot and jumped down from the cockpit the moment the starship’s engines shut off; he strode through the crowded docking bay with purpose and once he reached the city gate, he spared a glance at the nearby designated speeder docking lot. After spotting their blue and silver land speeder docked at the end of the nearest aisle, he all but jogged through the city gate and hurried down the crowded streets, finally skidding to a stop in front of his wife’s half-finished seamstress shop.

Leafy branches of purple and white flowers framed the shop’s doorway and the large window displayed two empty dress forms, both waiting to be fitted in the seamstress’s finest creations, and above the window hung a sign written in Aurebesh: House of (Y/L/N). Through the window, Din could see a couple of shop assistants organizing a rack of fabric bolts and he felt himself begin to relax when (Y/N) walked into view; the captain was directing another assistant as he balanced on a ladder and installed a hologram projector above a vacant niche, her authoritative posture and the way she practically glowed with excitement warming Din’s heart and making him smile for the first time in days. She was dressed in one of her original designs, a lavender jumpsuit and flowing silver-colored embroidered cloak that synched at her waist, and her hair was pulled into a simple style inspired by her Naboo heritage; she looks a lot healthier than she did when I left, he thought with an inward sigh of relief, maybe she was right and it was only a simple stomach bug.

“Mando!” Din turned to see Greef Karga striding down the cobblestone street towards him while his protocol droid teetered close behind. “Back already? That might’ve been your fastest hunt yet!”

“(Y/N) hasn’t been feeling very well lately, so I wanted to make sure she wouldn’t be alone with Grogu and the shop for too long,” Din explained before nodding towards the shop in question. “Have things been quiet around here today?”

The High Magistrate chuckled. “It has, but I did receive a few reports of your little guy getting up to some mischief by chasing Kowakian monkey-lizards in the main courtyard; other than causing a little ruckus and delaying the cantina’s food shipment by a few minutes, there was absolutely no harm done.” Din bit back a wince at that; since (Y/N) had fallen ill, Grogu’s behavior had been more unpredictable than usual and while they believed that he was only concerned for her health, his antics weren’t exactly alleviating any of their stress. “However, I was hoping that you and your lovely wife could explain to him that that sort of behavior’s really meant more for the city’s playground and not its busy streets.”

“Of course.”

“Good! Now, I have some business to attend to down at the docking bay, something about a disgruntled dock manager…” In that moment, Din was grateful that his expression was hidden away behind his beskar helmet. “Be sure to give Captain (Y/L/N) my best!”

“I will,” Din watched the High Magistrate and his protocol droid stroll down the street and when they turned the corner, he heaved a weary sigh and turned to enter House of (Y/L/N). A pleasant jingle sounded throughout the shop the moment he stepped through the threshold, causing everyone to look away from their tasks and towards the doorway; Din’s eyes were trained on the captain as her features were brightened by a happy smile and he was only barely listening as she dismissed her apprentices for the day, too distracted by her shining (Y/E/C) eyes and the way her jumpsuit hugged her curves beneath the sheer silver cloak.

“I think we’ll go ahead and call it a day. Thank you for all your hard work today, and have a wonderful rest of your afternoon!” (Y/N) called after the apprentices, locking the front door and rolling the privacy shade down over the window before launching herself into Din’s waiting arms with an elated laugh. “I wasn’t expecting you back until tomorrow! How’d the hunt go? Any injuries? How’s Captain Teva these days?”

Din chuckled, gently set her back down on her feet but holding her close to him. “Puhoi daab, ner cyar’ika alor’ad. The hunt was successful, Teva sends his regards and I’m not injured, but I’m more concerned about you right now.” He pulled back and removed his helmet, setting it down on one of the workbenches before holding his wife at arm’s length and examining her for any lingering signs of illness. “How did your appointment go?”

“The med droids said that it was just my body responding to stress; they suggested I eat some ginger root, drink plenty of fluids and get some rest.” Din breathed a sigh of relief but when he opened his mouth to interject, (Y/N)’s finger moved to rest on his lips to stop him and she gave him a knowing smile. “I bought some ginger root at the market after my appointment, I already drank two bottles of water today and we can go home, just as soon as I put some things away and lock up.” She lightly tapped the end of his nose with her finger as her eyes twinkled with affection. “Ner atin beroya.”

Shaking his head in playful exasperation, Din leaned down and gave his wife another kiss before letting her go and watching her fasten cloth coverings over displays filled with bolts of material; he took a seat at the nearby workbench, knowing better than to get in the captain’s way while she worked in her element, and he glanced inquiringly around the shop. “Where’s Grogu?”

“Asleep in the backroom; that little womp rat spent the morning chasing Kowakian monkey-lizards in the courtyard, and then he scarfed down an entire pack of roasted Kajaka Root before passing out!” When Din snorted in amusement, (Y/N) turned around with her hands on her hips and shot him a pointed look, all while fighting back a smile of her own. “Din, we can’t just let our son terrorize the citizens and local wildlife of Nevarro; we have to try and discipline him.”

He tugged his leather gloves off and nodded. “You’re right, alor’ad. I promised Karga that we’d talk to him and try to reign him in a little, but I don’t know how effective we’ll be; Grogu’s older than the both of us, after all.”

While (Y/N) breezed past with a tray filled with spools of colorful thread, she briefly paused to press a chaste kiss onto his temple and crossed the shop to place it in an open cabinet. “If we put our minds to it, we can do pretty much anything…even if it means finding a way to convince a fifty-plus year old Force-wielding child to behave himself. It’ll be a slice of uj’alayi, you’ll see!” She stacked another two trays of beads and embellishments in the cabinet before calling out, “R5, could you come here and lock these cabinets for me, please?” The astromech droid rolled out from the backroom and stopped in front of the data port near the captain, using his scomp link to close and lock all of the shop’s cabinets. “Thank you, R5.”

The astromech released a string of beeps and whistles as he rolled away, and Din watched the droid leave with the barest of smiles on his face. “You know, I think R5 likes it here.”

“A seasoned Rebellion veteran like R5 deserves a peaceful retirement,” (Y/N) replied, a mischievous gleam in her (Y/E/C) eyes as she shrugged her shoulders. “Well, a mostly peaceful retirement; he does have to put up with a grumpy Mandalorian on a regular basis.”

“Mir’sheb. You really must be feeling better if you’ve got the energy to tease your poor husband.” Din chuckled as his wife rolled her eyes and moved an empty dress form into the closest corner.

Glancing around the workbench he was leaning on, he picked up the captain’s well-worn holo-pad and swiped through her newest design sketches, marveling at the artistry and imagination present in every little detail. “Oh, those are some new designs for an upcoming line of maternity wear.”

Din swiped away from a panel of blouses and trousers to see a panel filled with day dresses and nightgowns, and he smiled up at (Y/N) when she moved to lean against the workbench. “They’re pretty, alor’ad. Some of your best work yet.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” When he turned his attention back to the holo-pad, the captain’s fingers gently carded through his messy curls as she continued. “I still need to tweak the silhouettes and figure out which fabrics to use for certain designs. Luckily, I’ll be able to test them all out on myself before I decide which ones to produce for the shop.”

“Yeah, that’s-wait, what?” Din’s head snapped up and everything around him seemed to fade away as his widened eyes met (Y/N)’s; he was barely aware of setting the holo-pad down and turning in his seat to face her, his mind only able to focus on the soft hands cradling his face and the tears beginning to well up in his wife’s eyes. “…When you said you’d be able to test them out on yourself, did you mean…?”

(Y/N) nodded and smiled widely through her tears of joy. “I’m pregnant, Din. We’re gonna have another child.”

An overjoyed grin spread across Din’s face and with a laugh of delighted disbelief, he jumped to his feet and enveloped (Y/N) in a tight embrace that she was quick to return; the captain giggled when he suddenly lifted her off her feet and spun her in a circle, her sheer silver cloak fluttering around their legs and twinkling under the shop’s bright lights. When he set her down on her feet, she took him by surprise when her lips quickly met his in a passionate kiss; one of his hands held her cheek while the other slid down to rest on the curve of her waist, and he couldn’t contain his blissful moan as her fingers tangled into his hair. It was when Din noticed the captain’s knees weakening that he pulled away, chuckling at her noise of protest but making it up to her by pressing feather-light kisses along her cheekbone and forehead. “So that’s why you’ve been so nauseated and exhausted lately, isn’t it? How far along are you?”

“Five weeks,” (Y/N) replied, still a little breathless as she allowed him to brush and kiss her errant tears away. “The med droids prescribed me some prenatal vitamins and after taking them with a cup of ginger root tea, I’m feeling much, much better.” She kissed his palm and gazed up at him, her (Y/E/C) eyes sparkling with elation. “Are you happy, sweetheart?”

Din nodded vigorously, giving his wife a tender smile as his thumb delicately caressed the soft skin of her cheek. “I-I’m…Alor’ad, this is one of the happiest moments of my whole life. Ni kyr’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika riduur.”

“Ni kyr’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika riduur,” (Y/N) whispered back before standing on her tiptoes and capturing his lips in another passion-filled kiss. After several blissful moments, she pulled away and laughed a little to herself when Din chased after her lips. “And that’s just the sort of behavior that got us in this situation in the first place…”

“You said that you’re five weeks along? You know, I seem to recall an incident five weeks ago when you pulled me into the backroom and-” His wife hastily silenced him with a kiss and he chuckled against her lips as he readily kissed her back, leaning back after several heartbeats and moving his arms to hold her around the waist. “Are you happy, ner cyar’ika alor’ad?”

“I couldn’t be any happier, sweetheart.” Reaching down, (Y/N) took one of Din’s hands and moved it to rest on her abdomen; it was unchanged, free of any indication that the manifestation of their loving bond was growing within, but just knowing that their baby was there made Din’s heart burst with pure and unadulterated joy. “You should know that I’ve got a sneaking suspicion that Grogu’s known about his little brother or sister for quite some time.”

For a split-second, Din’s brows furrowed in confusion but realization quickly dawned on him. “Through the Force…wait, is that even how the Force works?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “I have no idea, but it explains why he’s been so excitable lately; the poor little guy’s been trying to tell us about the baby for weeks and we had no way of understanding him.”

As if he’d been secretly listening in on their conversation, Grogu’s floating pram drifted into the shop from the backroom and with a coo of happiness, he leapt into the air and landed in Din’s waiting arm; the child nuzzled his wrinkled green face against Din’s cowl before clinging onto (Y/N)’s jumpsuit, babbling excitedly as he stretched his clawed hand down towards her abdomen. “You excited to have a little brother or sister, kid?” Din and (Y/N) both burst into laughter at their son’s withering side-eye, and Din gave one of the child’s large ears an affectionate rub. “Yeah, I know, that’s a pretty dumb question to ask you. But now that we finally know what you’ve been trying to tell us, you’ve gotta behave yourself in public, okay? No more chasing the city’s vermin in the courtyard and stressing your mother out.”

Grogu responded by blowing a loud raspberry and somersaulting back into his pram, only to pull a small package of blue cookies out from under his blankets and begin munching on one. “Well, no one can say that you didn’t try,” The captain quipped, fighting a losing battle against the grin that was spreading across her face as her eyes sparkled with mischief. “After all, everyone knows that a bounty hunter’s negotiation skills are inferior to those of a smuggler.”

“Is that so?” Din smirked at their familiar rapport, wrapping his arms back around her waist and straightening his posture so that (Y/N)’s weight rested against his and their gazes were nearly leveled. “Any chance I can change your mind with a bubble bath and a package of Chandrilan chocolate?”

(Y/N) arched a playful brow at that. “You really think that bribery will work on me?”

“Of course, everyone knows that smugglers can’t resist a good bribe.”

“Mir’sheb!” Din chuckled at his wife’s exaggerated gasp of outrage, which was soon followed by a grin. “You’re lucky that I love you so much, Din Djarin.”

“Yes, I am. Right now, I’d wager that I’m the luckiest man in the galaxy,” He answered honestly and her eyes shone with tenderness as she held his face between her hands. “You and Grogu and this baby are my life, ner cyar’ika alor’ad, and I swear on all the stars I’ll never leave your side.” Tears filled the captain’s eyes and after pressing a sweet kiss onto his lips, she nuzzled her face into his cowl and tightened her hold around him; smiling to himself, Din briefly closed his eyes and rested his cheek against her head, savoring the feeling of holding his wife close and the sounds of his son’s content coos from his pram. “Ready to go home now?”

(Y/N) pulled away and her smile nearly took Din’s breath away. “I’d love nothing more.”

After slipping his helmet and gloves back on, Din followed (Y/N), Grogu and R5-D4 out of the shop and waited for (Y/N) to finish locking up before offering her his hand, which she readily accepted. As he walked hand-in-hand with his wife and watched in amusement as their dutiful astromech kept blocking Grogu’s attempts to steer his pram towards the city’s many food stalls, he sent a silent word of thanks to the Maker that after a lifetime of pain and loneliness, the universe finally saw fit to bless him with an aliit of his own and the promise of their clan’s suum ca’nara on the horizon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I told you there'd be fluff! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created two Spotify playlists, one filled with of all my favorite music from the world of Star Wars and the other compiled with all the songs I listen to for inspiration while writing this series, so if you’re interested in checking them out the links are down below!

Star Wars Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2KuSKJhVOPPvxdJ9YHeo4M?si=2977ff31bf0c4bdd

Din Djarin/TCoB Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5HIv4pIIgtzRW3Nyv5x7ry?si=15e457550bd94966 Taking Care of Business Masterlist

Tagging: @remmysbounty @sinon36 @seninjakitey @thatonedindjarinfan @ginger-swag-rapunzel @mostclevermiss @momc95 @welcometothepedroverse @sarahjkl82-blog @elinedjarin @ccomandercody @crowleysqueenofhell @goldielocks2004 @wondergal2001 @groovyqueer @impala1967666 @fluffy-canada-pancakes @icee228 @siimiasoi @uncle-eggy @amyg1509

#taking care of business #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #grogu #the child #baby yoda #greef karga #nevarro #naboo #star wars

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internetgremlin-writes · 1 year ago

Text

Flat Spin [Chapter Nine]

Summary/Prompt: 1. A spin in which an aircraft descends in tight circles whilst remaining almost horizontal 2. A state of agitation or panic [informal] As the only female driver on the grid, you’re fighting a constant need to prove yourself, however sometimes the line between accepting help and hand-outs is more blurred than you think

Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr x Female Reader

Word Count: 6,100

Warnings: Sexual references, general Chapter 8 Aftermath content

Previous chapters: ONE || TWO || THREE || FOUR || FIVE || SIX || SEVEN || EIGHT

Newton's third law is that every action has an equal and opposite reaction.

The following hangover lasted for two days.

The next morning, you thought you were dead. Or at least you did for the thirty seconds you got to sit in that odd, floaty feeling you get when you wake up with a hangover, right up until the point where a quiet “Cariño,” brought your attention to the side of the bed where you met the soft brown of Carlos’ eyes as he waved a croissant under your nose.

You groaned loudly as your stomach flipped and a wave of nausea crashed over you with such force you physically shuddered.

“Get that thing away from me now,” you managed to groan against the pillow. Carlos must have managed to understand the muffled garble because the rich, buttery send drifted away.

“Good morning,”

“No,”

“What?”

“Just…” you stopped to swallow down another wave, Carlos’ peppy attitude grating on you intensely. You couldn’t finish the sentence. “‘M going to lie on the floor now,” you rolled out of bed and army-crawled into the bathroom where the cool slates were all but calling your name in the balmy morning.

You got a whole five minutes of peace before he was grinning over you again.

“Ladies and gentlemen, your Monaco winner,” you squinted at him and caught the lens of his camera flash as the sunlight caught the polished glass. You made a certain hand gesture in his direction that made him make a gleeful noise.

“I think I’m dying,” You heaved yourself over the toilet bowl and felt his presence come mortifyingly closer before his hand landed warm on your back. For the first time, it occurred to you what you were wearing - after a second of sifting through your swimming mind you realised it was a T-shirt, much bigger than anything you owned. “It feels like my soul is being ripped from my body,” You coughed, felt your mouth water and weakly tried to push Carlos away when you realised there was no escaping your imminent fate.

“So dramatic,” he tutted, but his tone was softer, his touch careful and he stayed far too close for comfort as your body tried to expel whatever alcohol was remaining in your stomach. Suddenly you were small again, fragile. Something he could so easily break should he choose to.

“Says the person who kept feeding me champagne,” you moaned, the word like acid on your lips, and you felt your stomach heave again at the mention of it.

“Come on, you’re okay,” Carlos’ encouraging hands were lost on you, he was trying to get you to stand, but the thought of standing made your head spin and you flopped back onto the floor, pushing your forehead harder against the tiles as you waited for the feeling to pass again, swallowing furiously and breathing deeply through your nose. “Oh Cariño,” he seemed to realise that there was no amount of enticing he could do to get you off the floor right then. “Can I help?”

“Please,” you were so hungover tears were pricking your eyes. “I just need a shower,”

You were semi-correct. One cold shower and a bottle of electrolyte-spiked water later you’d made it downstairs to the lobby, lolling your seat in the breakfast lounge with sunglasses firmly in place. But you were sat up, opposite Carlos, and picking at the display of bland, carby foods he’d fetched for you.

Carlos, who’d started the day annoyingly bright, seemed to have finally felt his hangover arrive. He’d lost a bit of colour from his cheeks and had also gone from trying to wolf down the buffet he’d raided for himself, to nudging the bits of ham curling around the edge of his plate with his fork. You’d have had more sympathy for him except for the fact that it was largely his fault you were in such a state.

You were about to open your mouth to tell him off for complaining that he, too, wasn’t feeling so good when the other half of his bad influence dragged a chair around the table that was clearly meant for two, and down plopped Charles, fully accessorised with a large pair of Ray-Bans.

“Lando is not coming for breakfast,” that didn’t surprise you, the younger Briton rarely drank and even he’d been roped into the chaos of last night. “He’s not in good shape,”

“Surprised you’re here,” you mumbled. Charles shrugged, and made a vague gesture that said ‘me too’. “D’you know where Seb and Mick are?” If the group of twenty-something-year-old athletes had taken such a battering, you dreaded to think what had happened to poor Seb.

“Flew back to Switzerland earlier,” Charles told you, swiping a pastry from your untouched plate as payment. You took another gingival sip of the black coffee you were cradling, not even bothering to protest the blatant thievery.

“Where’s my phone?” You patted your pockets, knowing full well your phone wouldn’t be there. You hadn’t looked at it all morning, in fact, you weren’t even sure it had survived Jimmy’z and made it back to the hotel. “Oh god,” the words were small and defeated, accompanied by your head falling into your hands. You knew that if your phone were missing, it would have to stay missing for at least another day; there was no way you could stomach going on the hunt for it in the state you were currently in.

“Upstairs, I put it on the charger,” Carlos didn’t even look up from his eggs, but you nudged his foot under the table and felt him respond with gentle pressure against your ankle.

“Thanks,”

Charles stood in a dreamlike fashion shortly after, hardly remembering to bid the pair of you goodbye as you watched him drift unsteadily back to the elevators. The rest of the morning was spent back in your room. The Champagne remainders were untouched, but Carlos made a good effort at finishing off the French treats that came with the celebratory hamper as you curled against him, your eyes unfocused on the mindless, trashy TV you were both pretending to watch.

The afternoon followed with an hour of lazy head, Carlos so settled between your thighs you’d thought he’d fallen asleep there. You came quietly against his mouth, rocking your hips to match his languid pace, your fingers tightening in his hair. The endorphin rush that spread through your body, too, was slow. It gently made its way through your nervous system, clearing your head and healing you so blissfully that you barely noticed him kissing his way back up your stomach until you were cuddled against his chest. Carlos held you tightly as you slept off the last of the hangover together.

“I hate this bit,” his calf-like eyes were focused on you again. He had that devastatingly handsome look on his face, the one he had in interviews when he’d just missed out on a pole, or a podium, or a few hundredths of a second to Charles.

“It’s just over a week,” You promised. He shrugged.

“Always feels like longer these days,” You felt yourself melt against him at his words. The advantage to Carlos’ private jet sponsorship was the equally private lounge access he got before his flight; at least this time you could say a proper goodbye. You pecked his lips for what felt like the thousandth time that day. You wanted to tell yourself it was just the hangover and the adrenaline crash that was making you feel clingy, but you knew deep down something had changed. You just weren’t sure what - or how - just yet.

At least it was a night flight home. You slept from the moment you found your seat until you were set to land, and that was only because a steward gently touched your shoulder and informed you so. Your dad picked you up at the airport and you slept once more, the whole car journey home. You were way too big for him to do so, but somehow you remembered briefly waking up to the feeling of him lifting you out of the car and placing you into bed. For a moment you were the eight-year-old girl who’d won her first-ever karting race, a gruelling, wet affair that had taken everything out of your tiny body and that night too you’d slept all the way home and right through your dad carrying you to bed. You’d clutched that trophy so hard you woke up the next morning with it still in your hand.

This time around there wasn’t a trophy in your hand the next morning. There was the dull ache of the final stages of recovery headache and an equally dull, gnawing hunger that seemed to be coming from somewhere much deeper than your stomach.

*****

“Finally,” was the first word to pass Andrea’s lips as you made your way downstairs for breakfast. You weren’t sure if she was referencing the monumental lie-in you’d had or the fact that you’d cancelled the celebratory brunch you were supposed to have yesterday morning before their flight home. You figured she meant both.

“I told you not to expect her yesterday,” Your dad sent you a wry smile from across the breakfast table and slid you a mimosa. Your stomach twisted, but it was weak and you wanted to make it up to your mum for standing them up yesterday. She’d had a busy morning; a spread filled with pancakes, waffles, even french toast, with a whole tray of bacon, eggs and sausages.

“Bloody hell mum, were you expecting The Queen?” You joked at the sheer volume of food, not that you were complaining as your dad piled your plate high, the day of barely eating finally catching up to you.

“Just my little champion,” You smiled appreciatively, not even bothering to correct her terminology. A single win wasn’t a championship, but this one sure as hell felt like it. Either way, you weren’t going to complain when you had a “sim and gym” day with Katie and were going to need all the energy you could muster to survive that. The other downside to having a rugby player as your coach, she got some kind of sick kick out of forcing you to do the most gruelling workouts on the days when you needed it the least.

Fortunately, your parents lived within an hour from Silverstone, so you took advantage of the slow lunch before getting changed into your team colours and packing your laptop and a gym bag for later. The green seemed to shine a little brighter that morning. You couldn’t help but admire the way your new Ray Bans seemed to complement your polo perfectly.

You hadn’t expected an honour guard, but the welcome you got when you walked into the Aston Martin headquarters was oddly quiet. The receptionist barely lifted her head as you scanned in, and you made it all the way to your office completely unbothered, which, you thought, must have been the first time that had ever happened to you.

You popped one of those little pods into your coffee machine and contemplated snapping a picture to send to Carlos. The man was a borderline coffee snob and with Ferrari being so deeply Italian, they seemed to have professional barristers on every corner endorsing the habit. He’d scoff at whatever you had in your hand whenever you saw each other in the paddock and you knew his reaction would be the same towards your little coffee machine. Could you really complain though, given how many of their exquisite drinks you’d had for free in the last few weeks?

Your thought process was interrupted by a knock on the door. A young man in a polo shirt that was at least two sizes too big and a name badge pinned on an angle you had to tilt your head to read was hovering in the door. You could tell by the blue of the badge that he was an intern.

“Hi,” you volunteered it became apparent he wasn’t going to offer words.

“Oh, um, hi,”

“What’s up? Did Katie send you?” You could see the poor boy physically wracking his brains trying to remember if he’d met a Katie yet.

“Uhm, no I can’t remember her name - sorry - but, there’s a- like a meeting, soon?” He paused to check his watch “In twenty minutes. Whole team in the… the big conference room,”

Why they had sent an intern to tell you rather than Katie, or even an email, was lost on you.

“Thanks,” The intern moved as if he was going to rock back on his heels to leave, and then changed his mind, swaying forwards again.

“Congrats on Monaco, by the way!” He almost shouted, making you flinch a little and the champagne-induced throb in your head threatened to return for a moment. “My little sister - she loves you. And - I mean I do too - not like that! But you’re really cool,”

He’d gone an impressive shade of pink, but the sentiment warmed your heart.

“That’s very sweet of you guys! Hang on,” you leaned over and grabbed a sticky note from your desk. “What’s your name? And your cubicle number?” He hastily told you his name was Luke, and gave you the location of his desk in the intern pen.

“Cool, thank you. I’ll get something for your sister sent over there,” He nodded and retreated in a rush of thank yous. There were always boxes of merch in your office, so it didn’t take you a minute to put together a little gift bag with a couple of your driver cards, a mini helmet model and a couple of caps, all signed for Luke and his sister along with a few other Aston Martin branded bits you had lying around. You stuck the note with Luke’s number on the top of the bag, grabbed your coffee and made your way out.

The intern pen was on the way to the meeting rooms, so you slipped the bag under his desk on your way down, thankful that the rest of the interns also seemed to be out running errands. You’d been caught before in there and when one intern gets a sniff of their hero, you tended to get stuck in a mob it would take you at least an hour to extract yourself from.

The sheer size of the big conference room always surprised you. Four long tables made a square, with projectors on all four sides of the room and space for a speaker to stand at one end with a platform and a microphone. You very rarely had to go in here, meetings involving you were usually smaller affairs, or they were much larger and much more informal whole-team briefings.

You were one of the first to arrive, despite the fact that the meeting was due to start in two minutes. Fortunately, Seb was already there and almost instinctively you found yourself sliding into the empty seat beside him. Despite your mother’s incredible brunch spread that morning, you still found yourself a little disappointed that there wasn’t a snack in sight.

“Do you know what this is all about?” You whispered to Seb, the room so imposing you felt like a child in a school assembly hall, unable to raise your voice despite several other conversations happening around you. A steady trickle of people were making their way in, several of whom you didn’t recognise, others you were more familiar with. Your whole pit wall team was present, as well as Katie and Britta, John the social media admin and even Mike, who sat close to the podium with the microphone.

Seb shook his head, curls following the movement with a gentle bounce of defeat. You made a non-commital noise of acceptance. “How was yesterday?” The question was accompanied by an elbow in your side and eyes shining with mischief.

“How was yours?” You instantly reflected the question, but Seb stopped you with a clear look of ‘I asked you first’. “It was rough,” you admitted, trying hard not to recall the gory details of the morning in Monaco, but even so there was a small, proud smile fighting to make its way onto your face.

“I nearly missed my flight,” He admitted with a wry smile. You wanted to push for more details, but something Charles had said at the hotel breakfast distracted you.

“Wait, you went back to Switzerland - how are you here?”

“Supposed to still be there,” he sent a look in the direction of Mike that screamed Red Bull sulk for a second, eyebrows drawn in and an impressive pout. “I was only told about this last night. I had to fly in this morning,”

You were about to press further when Mike stood up and cleared his throat, effectively commanding the full attention of the whole room. Silence fell so suddenly it was as if a mute button had been pressed.

“Right, well thank you all for coming. I think we all know why we’re here,” You did not like the pointed look he sent in the direction of you and Sebastian, especially considering you very much did not know why you were there. You sent a desperate look towards Katie, hating the feeling of being caught out. She wouldn’t meet your eyes.

“First of all, congratulations where it’s due. First and third for the team is an outstanding effort,” there was a round of rather stilted applause, you and Seb standing out as you both launched into much more enthusiastic clapping, which you quickly ceased. Mike was fiddling with the projector. You took the opportunity to lean towards Seb.

“Why do I get the feeling this isn’t going to be positive?”

“Y/N, where do you want to start?” Mike’s direct address snapped your attention right back to the front.

“Um…” Under his steely gaze, you had nothing to say.

“Let’s give you some options, how about that?” The tone of his voice made it clear that that was not a question he was waiting for you to answer. “How about assaulting a marshall? Or marching into the Haas garage? Acting as if you’re the only one in charge of the decision-making? Breaking into the Red Bull hospitality!? Or perhaps your concerning relationships with other drivers? To name a few,”

Oh.

“‘Oh’ indeed,”

“Sorry-” Sebastian interrupted, the attention of the room immediately gravitating towards him.

“You’re not innocent either, Vettel,” Mike’s tone was icy as he spat the German’s surname. You felt Seb shift beside you and knew immediately that he was switching from the gentle, bee-loving neo-hippie mentor back into the petulant driver who rose to world-dominating fame. A fantastic scowl graced his features, clearly offended at being interrupted in such a manner.

“What assault?” The ‘W’ came out like a ‘V’ when he was cross.

“We’ll start there, then,” Mike snapped. He threw a letter down and watched it slide along the elongated desk to where you stopped it. You didn’t need to open it because there was a copy of the contents being projected on all four sides of the room. An official FIA statement.

A fine of 20,000 euros is to be paid by the driver of car number 15 (Y/N Y/L/N) alongside a requested formal apology for the physical assault of a pit lane marshal during the second red flag event of the 2022 Formula One Monaco Grand Prix. The driver of car number 15 (Y/N Y/L/N) shall receive 1 point on their Superlicence for unsportsmanlike behaviour.

It wasn’t the money that felt like you’d just been kicked in the chest.

“Unsportsmanlike?” Your voice was smaller than you would have liked. “But I didn’t assault him,” you sounded like a child, and it was clear in Mike’s expression he wasn’t interested in your side of the argument.

“What did you do then, Y/N?”

“I-” You took a nervous sip of coffee. This was going to be a long meeting and you were not going to cry at the first accusation. “I was running to the Haas garage to find out about Mick. He grabbed me and stopped me,”

“And then what?”

“I…wriggled,” it sounded ridiculous when you said it out loud.

“So you got into a physical altercation with a pit lane marshall?”

“I didn’t hit him or anything! I just got away from him,”

“Y/N, I don’t want to hear it.” You knew better than to argue back. “Which brings me to my next point.” The image changed slightly, and two more letters were sent down the desk.

A fine of 5,000 euros each is to be paid by the driver of car number 5 (Sebastian Vettel) and the driver of car number 15 (Y/N Y/L/N) for the illegal entry into a competitive garage (HAAS Formula One Team) during racing hours in the second red flag event of the 2022 Formula One Monaco Grand Prix.

“Oh come on!” Sebastian spoke from beside you where he was reading his copy of the statement.

Mike was staring right at the two of you with an exasperated fury that made you want to disappear. You weren’t one for getting in trouble at school, but you could easily imagine this was the way teachers looked at naughty children. It didn’t sit well in your chest.

“Sebastian, you illegally entered their garage! Please argue that,”

“It was very clear we were both only there for the concern of our friend,” Seb spat the word at Mike like it was venomous. “Y/N couldn’t tell you a single detail of that garage, she was in a state,”

That was true, the only memory you had of the Haas garage was the stony-faced man in the white shirt who told you Mick was alive and the feeling of the world splitting apart beneath your feet.

“And you want the FIA to believe that?” Mike ran a hand through his short, grey hair and for the first time, you noticed the bags under his eyes. You wondered how long he’d known he was going to have to handle this.

“Sportsmanlike behaviour?” Sebastian scoffed. “Clearly not,”

Mike had had enough of the conversation.

“You’re not to argue the fines,” he sent a pointed look in Seb’s direction. “You’re both to pay in full out of your personal accounts, you’re both to write formal apologies. And you’re never going to display such immature, unprofessional behaviour again. This goes against everything we stand for as a team and you’re both going to make a very public rectification, understood?”

You nodded, your focus suddenly extremely limited to the square of the desk in front of you, unable to look up and meet the eyes of anyone in the room. Your face was burning, your vision was swimming and you knew you had never been so embarrassed in your life. You could feel Sebastian beside you, almost quivering with rage and his hands balled into tight fists in the periphery of your vision. Unlike you, his whole body was tense, on high alert and ready to fight.

“You’re also extremely lucky that Christian is a very reasonable man and isn’t pressing charges for your little stunt in the Red Bull swimming pool. How stupid could you possibly be thinking that was a good idea?” You sank further into your seat, what had appeared nothing more than a hilarious prank at the time suddenly was thrown into harsh, bleak contrast as you realised just how dangerous your idea had been. Although it had been your idea, John was rounded on for his turn of telling off. You didn’t even feel like the pressure had been taken away from you, as you watched the beloved members of your team that you had slowly grown closer and closer to being reprimanded on your behalf. The guilt was eating you alive.

“A team apology has already been issued to Red Bull. I don’t want to hear another word about this now-” Mike interrupted at least three of you who had spoken up over the stunt at once. “John, you stick to your team’s ideas only from now on and Y/N and Sebastian - you’ll be having separate PR briefings because you know Drive to Survive will be all over this,” Mike paused to rub his temples.

A break was suggested, and half the room stood to go and locate coffee. Mike took two paracetamol and you couldn’t help but think he had the right idea, however, you felt like you were glued to your seat. Katie was still refusing to meet your gaze and with Seb and Britta murmuring over an iPad in rapid-fire German, you suddenly felt very small and very alone. You were almost willing for Mike to hurry up and continue the onslaught because at least it gave you something to focus on.

After the break, you moved on from fines to receiving a very public lecture about your attitude towards tyres. Apparently arguing with your strategist over broadcasted radio is not something well endorsed by Aston Martin, regardless of who’s opinion was right.

“You have one job, Y/N,” Mike snapped. “Just the one! Drive the fucking car. The idea of it being a team sport is that we sort the rest,”

That was enough to tip you from embarrassment to anger.

“I drove that ‘fucking car’ to first place! And had you boxed me to inters I would have driven that fucking car right into a fucking wall. I argued because I was right,”

“You weren’t right, you were lucky!”

“I’m the driver, if anyone knows the tyres it’s me,”

“You’re barely out of your rookie season. You respect the strategy we give you,”

“Not when it’s wrong! I listened to you in Imola and-”

“Enough! Y/N that is enough!” Mike was red in the face, and his hands slammed down right in front of you so that he was towering over your seated frame as he shouted. “Maybe your friends at Ferrari can call their shots but you are not contracted for your opinion and we do not want to hear it. Need I remind you Lawrence’s son is waiting for your seat,”

“How dare you talk to her like that,” Sebastian’s voice was so controlled it screamed danger.

“Be quiet, Sebastian,” Britta’s hand landed on his arm. Seb dropped whatever he was about to say, but it couldn’t break the intense stare you were stuck in with Mike himself.

“And as if that wasn’t enough damage-”

Mike stepped away from you, clicking on a few slides further where a collection of images made your stomach sink.

“Schumacher is young, he’s popular and he’s already formed a close alliance with Sebastian. We chose to ignore whatever your relationship with him may be. Your personal life should be none of our business,”

You knew what was coming next. One of the pictures on the screen was of you wrapping your entire body around Mick right as he’d stepped out of the safety car, his head buried in your neck and Sebastian closing in on you. The second image was taken shortly after; you were gripping each other’s forearms with your heads pressed together. To an outsider who didn’t know the depth of your bond, it was obviously intimate. The third photo was at the end of the race when you’d jumped into Carlos’ arms and he’d held your legs. You hadn’t noticed at the time but here, caught in HD, the way his fingers splayed across your bum was not friendly, nor was the way he was looking at you in total awe. The quality of the final photo dropped off significantly, but the evidence was so much worse.

A grainy picture that was taken in the dark of Jimmy’z. Carlos’ hips pressed so close to yours there wasn’t a spec of space, his hand in your hair and the other on your hip, pulling you impossibly closer. His nose was at the juncture of your neck and lips millimetres from your skin. You were no better, eyes closed and lips parted in clear bliss, a hand gripping his bicep for dear life and the other fisted in the front of his shirt, clearly encouraging him into you.

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N,” Katie’s voice was quiet enough that few people would have heard her. The disappointment in her tone echoed in the pang in your chest.

“It’s not what it looks like-”

“Shut up, Y/N,” Mike snapped. “You have done enough for a lifetime in less than 24 hours. I don’t want to hear another word from you,”

“But I’m not dating Mick, it’s not-”

“ENOUGH! The adults are talking now,”

That stung. The tears that had been intermittently welling in your eyes finally spilt over as you swallowed the lump in your throat. You made an exaggerated gesture of running both hands across your face in frustration to remove the evidence, although you knew it was obvious he’d finally made you cry, and in front of the whole team no less.

The PR team were suddenly speaking up, discussing how much they’d offered the magazine companies that had hold of the paparazzi photos to keep their silence. Mike had sat down and for the first time, there was an efficient, business-like feel to the meeting rather than a public humiliation.

Within the next half an hour several cover-up stories had been prepared and were ready to be released if - and when - the rumours started. You weren’t consulted on a single one, despite it being your personal life under the microscope. Katie was the only person sticking up for you, and you had a strong sense that you were not going to be received well if you tried to offer anything. You didn’t understand the full scope of what the PR team were suggesting, too many business-like words and complicated, contractual terms for simple things that you were simply too overwhelmed to be handling right then. From what you understood they’d be saying you’d broken up with Mick and Carlos was nothing more than a drunk moment.

Agreements were starting to be murmured and there was a restlessness you could feel spreading amongst the whole meeting. Mike announced the dismissal and people were nodding and iPads were being packed away. You didn’t dare move. Seb was the second person out of the door, his expression nothing short of stormy.

Mike spotted that you were still rooted to your seat amongst the steadily growing flow of people leaving.

“I want your apology done and published tomorrow. Pay the second the FIA contact you. Keep your head down, you do nothing between now and Baku but train and I swear to god Y/N, you pull another stunt like this again and you’re out, I don’t care how talented you are,”

You held Mike’s gaze, something childish in you refusing to acknowledge him further than a swift nod. You tried not to look too much like you were scampering out of the meeting room with your tail between your legs, but you knew it was obvious.

Sebastian was in your office.

“Looking for these?” He held up your car keys, which were exactly what you were looking for. There was nothing in the world that could stop you from immediately getting out of the Silverstone complex as quickly as possible. You nodded, fully aware that your chin was wobbling as you fought off a fresh wave of tears.

“Good. Come on,”

He marched ahead of you through the building, out into the car park and unlocked your car, opening the passenger door for you with an expectant look. He didn’t say a word as he climbed into the driver’s seat, and pulled out of the complex with impressive speed.

“Cry now,” He said. You didn’t need much encouragement.

He drove in silence for ten minutes, whilst you tried to cry as quietly as you could. There was something big building in your chest and it was hurting the more you tried to control yourself. Seb pulled off the main road into a leafy, sheltered run-off that was totally uninhabited. He parked, rounded back over to your side and without a single word pulled you up and into his arms.

He held you tight and allowed you to finally let out the broken sob that sent you spiralling into a full-blown panic attack.

“Sorry-” you choked out but Seb immediately cut you off with a firm ‘no’. He didn’t try and talk you through it or get you to stop, instead letting you work your way through the way your body was attempting to rip itself in two until you somehow found your own breathing rhythm and your chest stopped squeezing and the sobs settled to a gentle stream of tears. He just held you, firm and fast against his chest and let you figure it all out yourself.

“You need to cry,” He told you when you tried to apologise again, the both of you now sat on the floor in the late May sunshine. “You’ll feel better. But not in there,”

“Oh my god, Seb-” the wave of dread that had temporarily pulled back crashed over you once more, and you immediately curled towards your senior, his arm opening and pulling you into his shoulder as if it was second nature.

“I know,”

“My career is over,” you moaned, a fresh stab of pain shooting through you. “Lance has been waiting for me to fuck up for years,”

“They are not going to sack the winner of Monaco,”

“But-”

“Look,” Seb handed you a stack of papers you hadn’t noticed he was carrying.

“What is this?”

“I printed them off last night. I thought we might need them,” Each sheet was a photocopy of a news article, each about a scandal involving an F1 driver. Seb himself and the Multi-21 incident was on the first page, there were several other on-track episodes, but what mattered most to you at that moment was the list of after-party allegations. From wild parties to sex scandals, the list of drivers with gossip surrounding them was ridiculous. Seb plucked the bottom paper from your hands. It was several screenshots of ‘news’ from Monaco two nights ago. Lewis in the club bathrooms, Checo allegedly cheating on his wife, Lando had been caught kissing that girl he was talking about, Charles had a very public fight with Charlotte, and Mick had been seen walking a girl home.

“Scandals are part of the job,” was all he said. “How many of these do you remember, Y/N?” You flicked through the pages again.

“Maybe three?”

“Exactly my point. It all dies the second they see something more interesting to talk about,”

“But it’s different, they already don’t take me seriously because I’m a girl, and now they all think I’m fucking half the grid and have evidence,” The image from the club flashed across your mind again. You had a feeling Mike had only put up a select sampling.

“I know,” Seb pondered “I don’t have the answers for that one,”

“Thank you,” you hoped he knew how much you meant it. “I think you’re the only person who can make this feel like it isn’t the end of the world,”

“Do you know how many times Christian told me off in front of the whole team?”

“No?”

“Enough that I just used to laugh when he tried,” You gave a wet giggle at that. “Do you want to go to McDonald’s?”

“I always want to go to Maccies,” you agreed, allowing Seb to once again drive as you pulled out of the quiet spot and rejoined the main road to find the nearest food source.

“One day, we will laugh about this,” He handed you the prized milkshake from the drive-thru window.

“I can’t believe he actually called me a diva over tyres,” Seb managed to grin around his veggie burger.

“Yes. But you need to know, Y/N, the way he spoke to you was completely unacceptable,”

A few of Mike’s choicer phrases bounced around your head.

“No jokes about that, okay? I’m going to do something - or say something - I don’t know what yet,”

“You don’t have to,”

“I’m your mentor. And you’re my friend. I’m not letting anyone talk to you like that and get away with it, do you understand me?”

“Yes, but shouldn’t I say something? Feminism and sticking up for myself and all that?”

“I think experience is more important here. And keeping you out of any more trouble,”

“Thanks, Grandpa,”

“Hey, enough of that!” he nudged your elbow, and the pair of you dissolved into emotionally drained giggles over your shitty burgers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Liked this? Check out more of my work here: MASTERLIST

Helloo, long time no see!

As per standard Iggy behaviour, I vanished for a few months but I'm back! Uni is finished, I can finally breathe and I have three months until I start my job in which priority #1 is finish Flat Spin so I hope you're all ready for an onslaught of writing >:)

I've missed being here so much and I'm so excited to pick up this story again. Hopefully, we can all remember the 2022 season lol. As always, this is a work of fiction based on real life but nothing more. I'm sure Mike is actually a lovely person and a great team principal, I just needed him to be like this for The Plot! (also can we talk about Aston Martin this season? Suddenly I'm not feeling like this fic is totally delusional hehe)

Anyway, so happy to be back. So excited for the next few months!

Lots and lots of love, Iggy

Taglist: @imreallylosingit @serialkillertbh @sticksdoesart @piceous21 @whosays75 @xscorpioxmoon @j-brielmalfoy @22yuki @teapartydreams @guccicloudz @valkyrie418 @nochillnel

@ruledchaos @isabellabrodar @ccloaned @ihearttheoriginals @ferrarifwendvale @bradfordbantams @bobohumyonlyboo @zoobabystation @formulacads @f1-incorrect-s @alicekepley @thembeforethea

(taglist is too big for one post so 2nd half are tagged with a link post don't panic!)

#flat spin #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz #formula one #f1 #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz junior #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz jr #sebastian vettel #mick schumacher #aston martin #fanfic #fanfiction

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fantasies-fairytales-n-fics · 1 year ago

Text

Thranduil and Josie Pt. 156- The Beast Within

Summary: Narcisse tends to a disoriented Jo until the double interference of those who care for her. She receives a disturbing vision. Legolas and company go to battle. The Prince has a repeated experience. Boromir needs aid. Holy Haldir and Jo moment. Narcisse reels. Thranduil's changes become physically pestilent.

*Warnings* angst, language, violence

Stories Stories Stories Masterlist

Spinning. You were spinning, so fast inside some illuminated violet vortex, screaming as you frantically fought to grab onto something, but there was only space. The speed was taking your breath away, the constant spiraling was making you severely nauseated. You couldn't open your eyes if you wanted to...and then..it all just stopped.

You awoke to a feeling of light bouncing...and the smell of peppermint tickling your nose. As your vision cleared through your fluttering eyelids, you realized it was that of Narcisse's chest hair tickling you through his open V-neck waistcoat while he carried you. All of the nausea you recalled experiencing was gone, most likely due to his scent just as it had healed you once before from the wolfsbane.

"St...Stephane?? W...what...happened? Why..are you carrying me? Wh..where am I?" you stuttered as you lifted your head to look around.

"Shhh, hush my love. You are safe. We are almost back to the castle." he explained and softly kissed your forehead.

You turned to see the castle in the near distance and what appeared to be Haldir speaking with....Bard?? You then brought your weary eyes back to Stephane's.

"I...I fell....I was...looking for..."

What were you looking for? you thought in your confused state.

"Youuu...do not remember what you were doing in the dark forest?? For that is where I found you. Indeed you had fallen, down a rather deep hole. I found you unresponsive and flew you out."

You squinted as you tried to remember. Your head hurt and all you could see was a fog.

"You...you saved me? H..how did you find me?"

"Your scent for one...as I was in the vicinity after attending to an unruly Catherine...and also, I could feel your presence. We are very connected, you and I...especially after...well..."

You smiled, knowing very well you were blushing as you recalled making crazy love to him the night before....but then you also remembered something else..

"Oh my god...Garrett!..That's what I was doing...looking for him. Stephane, he is not dead! I..I heard him singing....and talking to me...I...ugggh!! Why does my head hurt???"

You pinched the top of your nose between your eyes as you grimaced and whimpered.

"Most likely you have struck your head during the fall. Lay upon my chest. I will get you some healing water as soon as we get you back to your bed. You need rest."

You did as he asked, for you could not hold yourself up any longer.

"The forest...it...it didn't make you sick?"

"No, Jo. Remember? I am immune to poison. That includes the evil enchantment of such dark places."

"Oh...yes. I remember now...just like...Garrett is."

"Well, of course he is...for he is of the dark himself."

You could hear it, the jealousy in his tone over your mentions of the vampire you highly adored, so you closed your eyes with a sigh, and said no more.

"Jo??!!" Haldir shouted as he saw Narcisse carrying you and he immediately came charging over with Bard following. "What have you done to her??!!" he then snapped at Stephane with flaring nostils.

"I have done nothing to her! I would never harm her! I found her unconscious from a fall in the dark forest. I believe she may have hit her head."

"H...Haldir??" you weakly mumbled as you tried to open your eyes in response to the marchwarden's voice.

"Yes, sweetheart. It is I. Are you alright??" he lovingly asked as he stroked your strands from your eyes.

As he touched you, you saw a flash of Mirkwood's forest, not understanding why....and you couldn't respond because for some reason, you were extremely exhausted with one hell of migraine now.

"GIVE her to me." Haldir commanded through clenched teeth.

"I am handling this. Your assistance is not needed!" Narcisse growled as his animal instincts surfaced to protect you.

"I know what you are and it does not intimidate me in the least. Do you think one night gives you have some claim to her? Now hand the Queen to me. I will not order it again." Haldir snarled as he held his arms out and stepped forward.

"And you believe your one night gives it to you?? She chose me. Deal with it elf."

Bard then intervened between the two angered immortals.

"Lord Narcisse. The shipment I have brought needs your attention, for I have a request from Thr.....the captain of the guard for an addition to the return shipment which requires your approval and signature. The Queen will be in good hands with her great friend Haldir, for he means nothing but the best for her care. That...is what is important, yes?"

"B...Bard...it is you that...I saw?" you finally spoke a little more clearly at hearing a familiar voice from home.

"Yes, my lady. It is very good to see you after all this time. I am sorry it has to be under such circumstances and a short one at that, for I must make my long journey back soon. I was hoping to meet the new Princess, but maybe another time. I offer you my congratulations."

The bowman was having a very hard time keeping Thranduil's existence to himself as commanded to him by the King of Mirkwood, for he could not stand to see you in the arms of the warlock lord after hearing Haldir's spontaneous statement, but he knew he must, or he would face the wrath of the Elvenking.

"No...Bard...you mustn't leave. It is too dangerous. A murderous warlock by the name of Harker, is terrorizing Dorwinion. Please...stay, until he is reprimanded. You would be an easy target all alone on the river." you explained with pleading eyes.

"Why my lady, are you questioning my superior skills after killing the almighty Smaug with one shot?" Bard jested with a playful grin.

"No, of course not." you replied with a tired chuckle. "But he has killed many men here with comparable talent. I...I would just worry for you is all. Stephane?? You would not mind right? There is room for him somewhere...and I would like him to stay and meet Leean and I would like to speak with him more. I missed him the last time he was here and he won't be back for another two weeks."

Narcisse hesitated, for he did not like Bard's insulting interference just now, but to keep you satisfied and worry free, he reluctantly obliged.

"Yes...I will arrange accommodations."

"Great, It is settled then." Bard almost cheered in his happiness to remain there and do damage control when it came to you. The King of Dale had taken quite a fancy to you when he had first met you back in Lake Town and you had always been so gracious of him as well, so he felt a need to protect you, just as he had done when he aided in yours and Haldir's rescue from Peter's cabin.

"Yes, it is. Now...for the last time...the queen..." Haldir scoffed at Narcisse.

"I have really had enough of you giving me commands in my kingdom sprite. Just who is it that you think you are??"

"Stephane...you promised...I...I want to go with Haldir." you quickly told him with stern eyes....and it made Haldir grin from pointy ear to pointy ear.

Sighing, he recalled agreeing to stop giving Haldir a hard time but it was difficult to do when the elf acted as if you were his property, the way he imagined King Thranduil would be. He also hated the fact that you wanted the elf and not him to care for you. The bond you had with Haldir, he was indeed envious of.

Reluctant once again, Narcisse submitted and slid you over into Haldir's arms, where you quickly latched on to the Lorien elf's neck and cuddled your face against him, missing his strawberry essence and calming touch.

As Haldir laid you down on your bed, for some reason, Legolas entered your thoughts. It wasn't just your usual random thoughts of him that you had on a daily basis, it was your intuition screaming at you that the Sindar Prince was in danger.

Your intuition turned into a vision...a vision of orcs surrounding him. Gasping in panic, you sat up, screaming for him before you passed out.

"Leggy!!!!"

Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli had headed into the forest that same morning, deterred from departing their camp at the Old Forest Road's end along the River Running. Boromir had alerted them of oncoming orcs and then he ran off as they were packing the boats. It was already known Jareth would send his viscous army to track and kill those that had invaded his realm and took the Elvenking, but they had hoped the trail would be lost when they had changed course.

In their search for the warrior of Gondor, they were attacked from all angles, but with little effort, the trio took them all out, Aragorn with his sword, Gimli with his axe and Legolas with his bow.

These orcs were not solely the orcs that dwelled all through middle earth's mountains and forests that the three were accustomed to. These were a crossbreed of orcs, goblins and men, referred to as Uruk-hai, created by Jareth to strengthen his army. Mutant monsters they simply were, only stronger, bigger and wiser than the ordinary orc...except for Arzog, which Legolas knew he would face again someday after the defiler's defeat on Lestat's mountain.

Legolas stood guard as Aragorn finished off the last orc for the time being, for there surely would be more. As Legolas did so...he heard it again...you...calling his name in fear.

"Josie???" he reeled as his moonstone eyes darted all around. But just as once before....he heard nothing more....except for a horn blowing in the distance.

"The horn of Gondor!" Legolas shouted as more orcs invaded.

"Boromir!!"

Aragorn went rushing past him, charging through the monsters, slaying them on the way, to locate the captain of the white tower who carried the sounding horn.

The elf and dwarf ran off to follow the ranger, slaughtering at least two dozen more of the beasts before they came upon Boromir, once again blaring the horn to alert them of his whereabouts.

The King of Gondor was the first to arrive, hurdling through the trees and releasing a can of Aragorn whoop ass on the next group of homely brutes.

The intense fight continued as the quartet defeated them all in union, one by one but more orcs kept appearing from the trees, and one of those was their leader, the biggest and ugliest demon of them all....Lurtz.

As Boromir swung his sword, ending the atrocious beings in his path, Lurtz took special aim of his bow at unaware red haired warrior, firing one of the morgul arrows into his chest.

Although stunned by the strike, it did not stop Boromir from going down without a fight. Bravely, he powered on through his pain, as Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli fought their own attackers, unaware that Boromir had been struck.

Lurtz then aimed again, twice as Boromir turned to see the deadly arrows flying at him with no time to react. They pierced him in the stomach and this time, he dropped in defeat, unable to take anymore as he gasped for air.

"Nooooooo!!!" Aragorn shouted as he witnessed his good friend's take down a little too late. Legolas and Gimli came charging in, fending off the surrounding guild to protect Boromir as Aragorn attacked Lurtz.

The man verses orc battle was long and bloody, and the fang toothed orc liked blood, enough so that he licked it off of his blade with his serpent like tar colored tongue as a befuddled and injured Aragorn watched.

Lurtz then came at the ranger, who surprised the slate skinned orc by slicing his morgul blade wielding arm right off.

It became apparent to Aragorn that Lurtz was immune to pain, for it had only angered the orc, and he proved it by pushing his body onto Aragorn's sword as he roared his ungodly breath into his face.

"You may not feel that, but you will feel this!" Aragorn validated as he yanked his sword free of the orc's ghastly guts and swiftly beheaded the beast of his burdens.

Aragorn then ran to the aid of his greatly injured friend as Legolas and Gimli finished off the few remaining orcs.

"You must tell the queen about my brother." Boromir pleaded through his faint breaths as he was quickly becoming pale.

"You will tell her yourself...and she will heal you as well, for I have seen what she can do. You must hold on my friend."

Aragorn was referring to Gausyr, the elf of Rivendell who was once dark and you brought him back to the light with the simple touch of your hands and extraordinary heart of compassion and empathy. Aragorn had healing power, but not the kind you possessed that was needed for such wounds.

"Legolas, Gimli! Help me get him to the boats." the ranger commanded as he broke the poisoned arrows off and removed them from Boromir's body, then wrapped his wounds tightly with his cloak to try and slow the blood loss.

Once loaded, off they paddled down the stream and entered the Celduin to hopefully make it to the Dorwinion castle by dusk and in time to save Boromir. The blood loss was great and it was clear he also had a punctured lung which could very well kill him before the poison did.

You awoke to see Haldir's concerned ultramarine orbs gazing at you as he gently patted your forehead with the magical healing water. A sight for sore eyes he certainly was, the elf you had repeatably hurt, still at your side.

A soft smile formed on his lips as you gazed back into his eyes and reached up to touch his porcelain colored cheek.

"Y..you're still here?"

"Of course I am Jo...are you feeling better now?"

"Actually...yes...but..."

You then remembered Legolas and sat right up with a gasp.

"Leggy!...Haldir, I...I...saw him..."

He tilted his head at you. "In the...forest earlier? Has he come back?"

"No..no..in a...vision...I can't explain it, for this vision thing is all so new and comes and goes when it pleases...but...I saw him and there were orcs all around...and...and then it all just vanished...Haldir, what if he is in trouble?? Are my visions prophetic like my dreams? or did it already happen? Or was it happening as I saw it??? Or..was I just hallucinating or something from the dark forest or maybe I hit my head like Narcisse said and..."

"Jo...Jo, please...slow down. Take a breath. I wish I had the answer for you. Did you see where he was by chance??"

"I....there was...a river...and...wait...I know the river! It's the one he and I came here on...the Celduin."

"It runs alongside Mirkwood for a good distance. There could possibly be an orc invasion. It has happened before at the elven gates of Forest river. Jo...Legolas is highly skilled as you well know and he has an entire elven army at his back...but...we can always go to Mirkwood. I can take you and Leean away from here.."

"I...I cannot go without that book. Harker must be stopped, Jareth too. I need to get my dad back and end all this....then..."

"Then...you will leave here with me like you once said you would? Or...stay with Narcisse like you have decided to do instead.."

Haldir's eyes filled with sadness and all you could do was what you wanted to do since you first awoke...what you have wanted to do for so long now.

You pulled Haldir into a hug, gripping your arms snuggly around his neck. The shocked elf held his hands momentarily about behind you, then he slowly and firmly returned the embrace.

"I...I just want to stay like this. I want everything to be like it used to be between us. I miss you so much Haldir. That is why I wanted you to bring me here and not Stephane." you confessed, sniffling into his sweet fruity strands.

"It is all that I want too Jo....but....why...why did you do it...why him Jo."

You quickly ended the embrace and stared at him. "I...I do not want to talk about that with you."

"But you will allow me to hear it instead." he retorted and pursed his lips. "I was here with your daughter, right across the hall and you gave no regards to knowing I would know. I know that you owe me no explanations, but a little respect would be suffice, for you know how I feel about you."

"I...I don't know why...I...am sorry. I never meant to hurt you and yet that's all I seem to do...you're right, I should have had more respect for your feelings...I'm just so...lost...and I got caught up in a moment and he was there and..."

"I was there Jo! I am here Jo! I have always been here! Why did you not come to me instead??" Haldir snapped and got up to pace like he always did when he was angry.

"And now...you're mad at me again...you're always mad at me, we are always fighting and I can't take it anymore. It...it hurts me too, so much, that I am hurting you..."

"Really?? It would seem I was the last thing on your mind last night Jo...I always am last anymore. We have had this conversation more than once and nothing changes! Why did you even save me Jo?? I would rather have succumbed to my three thousand years by a bowl of poisoned soup than to suffer this."

"Is that even a serious question?? I saved you because I...care about you!! Deeply! Did you think I was just going to let you die?? Just like before, I risked everything to get that damn pendant for you when you stupidly drank the poisoned wine! You could have just knocked the glass from Thranduil's hand, but no, you had to go and be the hidden hero once again!""

"Oh I am definitely hidden alright, in the shadows of Narcisse and Garrett! And ahhh yes, speaking of the devil himself, the poisoned wine by GARRETT who was trying to kill your king! The same vampire I am willing to bet YOU stupidly went into the dark forest looking for and look what happened. Am I close Jo?? It is a good thing your ever so trusted and perfect warlock found you, you know, the one who ALSO gets to call you Jo? I suppose I am to blame that Garrett ever gained any kind of control over you, for I knew you would not uphold your promise to not go and try to bargain with him for the pendant, and I will forever feel responsible for that, but I never thought in a million years that you would fall for him. Am I close again Jo? Hell, I even comforted you last night when you believed he was dead, even after I knew you had relations with Narcisse only hours before. All these things I do for you, and I am last to get any acknowledgement because I STUPIDLY am still in love with you..."

All went quiet as you both intensely stared into each other's eyes. You hadn't seen Haldir this angry in a very long time and honestly, you couldn't blame him. You knew he was right about everything and would never see the good in Garrett.

"Look...yes, I went into the forest to try and find out where he was. I was actually looking for Amara because I think she knows...I...I don't know what happened...I don't remember anything after falling, except for excruciating pain in my head and dizziness. I...I almost feel like...I may have even died and left my body, I can't explain it. You're right, it was stupid to go alone, but if I had asked you to go, would you? I highly doubt it and we would have ended up in another fight, just like now. I know you don't care for him, but I feel he is in some kind of trouble. I mean, Haldir, did you forget he saved Legolas?? Does that even matter to you?"

Haldir shook his head with a cocky grin. "I would have went and you know it, to keep you safe. I...I am at a loss with you anymore Jo...I just told you I am in love with you still and all you can do is stand here and defend that fucking vampire!"

To say Haldir was angry was now an understatement, for swearing was not in his vocabulary. It was yours though and obviously your influence was rubbing off on him and not for the better.

"I...I am sorry to interrupt, but...please...your tones. It will scare the child." Lola timidly said as she skittishly and foolishly crept up behind him.

"What business is this of yours girl? Leave the room and give us some privacy!" Haldir barked at her as he spun around, making her jump.

"Haldir Galahon! Do not speak to Lola in such a way!" you scolded. "Apologize at once!"

He halted his pacing and whipped around to you, lips pursed again, nose flaring.

"I will not. It is common courtesy to excuse yourself of a private conversation and to not...how would you say it Jo? Butt the hell in!"

"I...I'm sorry...I...I will go." Lola squeaked and ran out.

"Nice Haldir, nice! You're pissed at me, I get it, but don' t be a jackass to Lola who has been nothing but a godsend since we came here."

"We never should have stayed here. It's this place...everything between us changed, no thanks to Narcisse and even Garrett."

"Everything changed because my husband died!!!!!" you shouted and flung up to your feet. "Thranduil, remember him???"

"Obviously you don't! Sleeping with the enemy! Pining after another enemy...leading his son on...it is a good thing Legolas kept his wits about him and wised up! Maybe I should too finally! I was only good enough for you when you thought Thranduil was unfaithful! Now that he is dead, your new cock of choice are that of warlocks and vampires."

Your eyes stung of tears as your blood began to swelter in fury and you then found your hand speeding to a head on collision with his face, until he snatched your wrist in mid air and yanked you against him.

Gasping, you figured this was where he would either apologize, saying he didn't mean it or he would lay into you some more with his hurtful thoughts...but he did neither. Instead, he planted a deep passionate kiss on your lips.

Your eyes sprung wide open as you whimpered, trying to pushing him away, but it was futile to say the least, for his strong elven arms locked your small body in place. Of course, you could have used magic to free yourself...but you would never use it on him, plus...you quickly found yourself not wanting to push him away.

Your eyes fluttered shut, releasing the tears they held back as your body slowly relaxed within his hold and then you allowed your lips to part and melt into his. The memories of his velvety kisses and being intimate with him flashed through your mind as his sweet strawberry intoxicating taste took you back in time. Was he using his own damn magic on you? His calming effects to make you give in? No...no....this was...real. It was like he woke up the hibernated feelings for him inside of you, for that is all that they had been...asleep. They had never went away.

You found yourself pushing further into him as your fingers entangled in his strands of silk and a soft moan came out your nose. No...no, you couldn't let this happen again, you had to stop it.

This time, you pushed hard, forcing him to release you. Panting as you stood there with your hand over your mouth in shock, you then caught him off guard by serving him the slap he intercepted moments earlier.

"Oh god...I...I'm sorry...I don't know why I..."

Haldir didn't listen, nor did he care as he jerked you back into his arms and reclaimed your mouth....and you let him. His hands then tenderly cupped your face as his tongue softly found yours...this...this was good...and it felt...right....until...

"I....am sorry to interrupt..."

There stood a very frazzled Narcisse.

Both you and Haldir stared at him briefly, then at each other...speechless in the awkward moment.

Narcisse then continued to explain his intrusion with a blatantly obvious scorned tone.

"I...Lola...I found her in the dining hall in tears and she would not tell me what happened, so I....came to find out if everything was alright...apparently...it is from what I can see. I...also wanted to inform you that Catherine has injured herself and is being temporarily held in the infirmary under heavy guard..."

Haldir's eyes softened about Lola. "I...I will go and apologize to her Jo and then send her back."

His eyes also didn't want to break free of yours, but Haldir knew he should go, or things would probably go from bad to worse when it came to him and Stephane.

Haldir quickly exited and Stephane stood in place for a moment, his deeply pained eyes fixated on you.

"Bard's accommodations have been met. He is at the end of the hall, near the sitting room. I must go now and tend to this Catherine issue, for I can see you need nothing from me."

Abruptly, he left. You felt shaky, sick and now more confused than ever as you clumsily sat down, lightly touching your aching tingly lips, still tasting of Haldir. Wine...you needed wine and lots of it.

You drank a large glass down in a few gulps as you gazed at a sleeping Leean, surprised that she slept through all of the commotion. The wicked vintage only intensified his taste, now making the flavor of a strawberry wine.

Lola came back in, cautiously, for when she spoke to Haldir, she detected his demeanor to be rather emotional and Narcisse, whom she passed in the hall, didn't speak to her, nor even look at her as he zipped by in an acute state.

"Josie?? What has happened? Haldir...he was very sweet and apologized, but he...he looked so...lost...and Lord Narcisse, well...one should stay out of his way or they'll certainly be trampled."

"Ughhh...he was here Lola...he saw..."

"He sawwww....what??"

"Haldir and I...we...kissed....Stephane, he walked in....oh god Lola, what have I done? Narcisse has been so good to me, how will I ever explain this to him??"

"Well....what is this...this, that you speak of. First you must figure that out."

You sat back down and threw your hands over your face, sobbing. Lola was right...she was always right. Now what were you going to do??

Thranduil had made his way back to his chambers, lost in a state of utter confusion over what he had just experienced with you, for he didn't even know what that was. Had you projected like he had? Like you possibly also did when he was at Moonlight in Rivendell? Had you even projected all those months ago when he saw your vision in the forest? When you had read his journal? Were you even aware of your shared capability? He had to know, for he could still feel your lips upon his...your taste was inside every corner of his mouth. Hurry he must, and look into your stone, before the Elvenking regained his reign.

His hand vigorously shook as he clutched the moonstone so tight, it should have crumbled into a million pieces, for the vision he saw was not what he expected...Haldir's lips, passionately on yours and you were happily reciprocating.

Slamming it down on the desk, the Elvenking arose and headed to the wine table, guzzling down three glasses in a row, then he turned to stare at the gem. The stare became a glare and he then tossed it back in the lock box, only this time...he removed his moonstone ring and placed it inside too, leaving Jareth's citrine ring to be the sole piece of jewelry he now bore.

He needed to release his frustrations, but this time, it would not be with his cock. Off to a dark private chamber he went, filled with an array of weaponry, solely used by him to work through his demons in a physical manner.

Thranduil removed his robe, revealing his bare and very fit upper body lightly covered by his flowing platinum locks, then he picked up a spear with an extremely sharp and long curved blade. As he placed it before him in his grip, it stood taller than he was.

His face was expressionless, emotionless...just plain empty and then he began to swing it about, fileting the air all around him with his martial art skills.

The more he envisioned you with Haldir...Narcisse even...the faster he swung and the angrier he became.

Something was happening to him in that moment. Something sinister and he didn't even realize it. He was physically changing and not for the better.

His battle scars, they were surfacing, breaking through his magic that he had used to conceal them, his skin was turning as pale as ivory, like a corpse, his smooth flawless face was becoming crusty like chalk, his eyes blackened with an eerie glowing golden hue like the citrine ring itself.

Thranduil moved swiftly with insane stealth and agility, far better than he ever had as he spun around the damp fire lit room. His energy surpassed what he had ever experienced.

The Elvenking was more powerful than ever. He was unstoppable and damn anyone that got in his way.

Th revelation of his becoming, he was now aware of as he stood panting in the bright light that shone down on him from a hole to the outside above.

He then saw his unrecognizable reflection in the blade of his weapon. At first, he was taken aback with a slight feel of panic, but then he quickly embraced it as an elated smile formed on his lips.

"So this is what it's like to be a dark elf lord..." he chuckled.

His deep intimidating voice, the one thing that did not change, then echoed through the vast ominous atmosphere as he shouted.

"I am Thranduil Oropherion!! King of the Woodland Realm! I am.....the ELVENKING!!!!"

(NOTE: Yes, I know that the gifs are of Prince Nuada but it is not intended to be him. I am only using them to show Thranduil's alter image for this fic.)

@redeemer46

youtube

Here we go again, it's madness I swear I don't mean things I scream at you This hate inside of me, it's sadness I can't control the stupid things I do

Over and over and over again It turns on me, it's a beast inside me A beast that I don't even know

Here I go again, relentless The mirror shows the red in my eyes This human being I was once before Is now a scary story filled with lies

Over and over and over again It turns on me, it's a beast inside me A beast that I don't even know

The cages don't work The chains don't hold me down I'm digging my way through the past And clawing at the ground

The cages don't work The chains don't hold me down I'm digging my way through the past And clawing out, clawing out

Over and over and over again It screams at me, it's a beast inside me A beast inside me that I cannot control

A beast in me, there's a beast in me A beast in me

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fanficsfreeideas · 2 months ago

Text

soulmates - chapter 4

the morning

Alastor stood before the mirror, his crimson eyes tracing the reflection that stared back at him. The sight was both familiar and foreign—his sharp features were the same, but his body had begun to change in ways he had never anticipated. The morning sickness had finally lessened, yet the nausea remained, a constant reminder of the new life growing within him. His once flat stomach now bore a noticeable swell, a testament to the extraordinary pregnancy that filled him with a mix of pride and apprehension.

This wasn’t just any pregnancy; it was a profound transformation that challenged everything he knew about himself. His cravings had become almost insatiable, no longer confined to peculiar foods. His body yearned for the blood and flesh of his mates, Adam and Lucifer, in ways that thrilled and excited him. The intensity of his desire had driven him to drag them to bed more than once, their passions igniting in a fervor that left them all breathless and deeply bonded.

Alastor’s thoughts drifted to Rosie. He hadn’t told her yet. He hadn't found the right moment between his responsibilities and the overwhelming changes he was experiencing. But today, for the overlord meeting, he would surprise her with the news. The thought brought a smile to his lips, and he imagined her reaction—shock, joy, and perhaps a bit of that protective concern she always showed him. He also planned to ask her to create some maternity clothes for him. For weeks, he had been making do with Adam’s oversized shirts that hung to his knees, and while Lucifer had conjured exquisite clothing for him, Alastor knew that Rosie’s touch would add something special. She understood his fashion sense in a way no one else did, her designs capturing the essence of his personality.

His mind wandered back to the previous night, the memory vivid and intoxicating. The ritual of marking between him and his mates had been a sacred, intimate exchange. Their scents had mingled, a possessive bond that offered both comfort and protection. They had been tender, showering him with love and devotion, ensuring that every sinner, overlord, and noble in Hell knew Alastor was off-limits. Their presence was a constant reassurance, a source of strength as he prepared for the challenges ahead.

He recalled how, after sharing his plans for the day, the atmosphere had shifted. Both Adam and Lucifer had reacted with immediate protectiveness when he mentioned meeting Rosie alone after the overlord meeting. Adam had spoken first, his voice thick with concern, "You can’t go alone! What if you’re attacked?"

Lucifer’s reaction had been even more intense. "I’m going with you," he had declared, his eyes blazing with determination.

Alastor had smiled, amused and touched by their concern. “My dear bucks, have you no faith in me?” he had teased, waiting for their responses.

Adam’s worry softened into resolve. “We do have faith,” he admitted, “But we must prove ourselves worthy of being your mates.”

Lucifer nodded in agreement, his fiercely protective nature shining through. "As your bucks, we can’t leave you or our fawn’s side," he had stated firmly. "We don’t care if the other overlords disapprove. As King of Hell, I’ll remove them from their positions if they dare to harm you."

A wicked grin had spread across Alastor’s face. “My bucks are impressing me more and more each day,” he had praised them, feeling a surge of pride.

Both fallen angels had puffed out their chests with pride, their majestic wings unfurling as they basked in Alastor’s admiration. Alastor had laughed at their display, his heart filled with warmth and love for his devoted mates. “My loving mates, you may dance and sing around me, putting on a show just for me.”

And they had done just that—Lucifer and Adam twirling and prancing around him, serenading him with a sweet, enchanting melody. As Alastor reclined on the bed, a warm wave of contentment had washed over him, and he had drifted into a peaceful slumber filled with dreams of pure bliss.

The morning light now filtered into the room, waking Alastor to the comforting sensation of his mates beside him. Lucifer lay with his face nestled against Alastor’s stomach, softly chirping to their unborn fawn in his sleep. Adam was curled up next to Alastor, his head nuzzled into the crook of his neck, breathing warmly against his skin. Alastor couldn’t help but purr contentedly as he ran his hand over Lucifer’s feathers, relishing their soft, familiar texture.

But as much as he hated to disturb the peaceful moment, Alastor knew he needed to relieve himself. He whispered to his two bucks, “I need to use the bathroom.” Both Lucifer and Adam stirred awake at the mention, their eyes blinking open as they mumbled sleepily in response. But when Alastor mentioned taking a bath, both males fully awoke with excitement, their eyes lighting up at the prospect of caring for their mate.

Amusement and affection filled Alastor’s heart as he watched them eagerly spring out of bed. “Let me pee first,” he said with a smile, “and you two can get the bath ready for me.”

After taking care of himself, Alastor moved towards his mates, who were busy preparing the bath. The scent of fragrant oils filled the room as Lucifer and Adam fussed over the water, ensuring it was just right.

Alastor shed his clothes and slipped into the warm bath, letting out a soft sigh as the water enveloped him. His mates were at his side instantly, their hands gentle and attentive as they washed away the remnants of sleep from his body. Lucifer’s fingers worked through his hair, lathering it with soap, while Adam’s hands moved over his skin, cleansing and soothing him.

"My dear bucks," Alastor purred, "you spoil me."

"You deserve nothing less," Lucifer murmured, his voice filled with love.

"We’re just taking care of our doe," Adam added tenderly.

A sense of warmth and belonging filled Alastor as he relaxed into their care. Despite the challenges ahead, he knew they would face them together, as a family. As he thought about the upcoming overlord meeting, a surge of confidence filled him. With his mates by his side, there was nothing he couldn’t handle.

Dressed in the luxurious clothes provided by Lucifer, Alastor admired himself in the mirror. The fabric was soft and comfortable. He stroked his stomach lovingly before grabbing his radio staff.

Just as he was about to call for his mates, Lucifer slithered up Alastor’s leg in his snake form, coiling around his waist and resting comfortably against his side. Adam stood nearby, offering his arm for Alastor to take. Alastor wrapped his arm around Adam’s, feeling a sense of solidarity and strength.

With one last glance in the mirror, Alastor felt the weight of the impending meeting. Today, the other overlords would see a new side of him—not just as the infamous Radio Demon, but as a mate and soon-to-be parent.

Overlord meeting Rosie's eyes widened in shock when she saw Alastor stride confidently into the building, Adam by his side, and Lucifer coiled protectively around his waist in his snake form. Her hand flew to her mouth in surprise as she took in the sight before her. She couldn't believe her dear friend hadn't told her about him carrying a fawn—and kept it from her! The shock quickly turned to a frown of disapproval as she noticed what he was wearing. Those clothes simply would not do for her dear friend, and Rosie resolved to bring him home after the meeting, even if she had to drag him there. He could not be seen in such ill-fitting attire.

Alastor spotted Rosie, and his face lit up with a warm smile, waiting for her to approach. With a graceful motion, he handed Lucifer over to Adam and instructed him to step back. Rosie wasted no time, wrapping her arms around Alastor and spinning him around in a joyful embrace before gently setting him back down. Adam and Lucifer both had to suppress their instinctual growls at the sudden motion, but they remembered Alastor's stern warning: Any growling directed at Rosie would result in them being denied physical intimacy until after the fawns were born. Rosie gave Alastor an affectionate smile, her sharp gaze taking in every detail of his appearance.

"Darling, why didn't you tell me? After this meeting, I'll take you home with me so I can make you proper clothes. What you're wearing now just won't do." Lucifer, now perched on Adam's hand, pouted at Rosie's criticism, clearly thinking he had done a good job with the outfit. But Adam noticed Lucifer's reaction and patted his head confidently.

Rosie's sharp gaze turned towards them both. "So, you two got my dear friend pregnant," she began playfully scolding, yet with a hint of genuine concern. "I hope you both intend to make an honest deer out of him and marry him properly." She gave them a stern glare, clearly expecting a commitment. Adam spoke first, his voice calm but firm. “We are mated to Bambi.” Lucifer hissed in agreement, adding, “So there is no need to get married.”

But Rosie was having none of it. She held up her hand to silence them. “No, that will not do. You both are going to marry my dear friend properly. I’m going to make Al the best wedding suit in all of Hell. And you two are not going to take away my chance to throw my friend a proper wedding. I never thought I'd see this day, and I am determined to marry him off." Feeling the intensity in Rosie's words and catching the warning look from Alastor, reluctantly nodded his small snake head in agreement. There was no arguing with Rosie, especially not when his mate was on her side.

Alastor couldn't help but grin at the sight of Rosie talking his mates into submission. However, his amusement was cut short when he heard a familiar and irritating laugh echo through the room—Vox's laugh.

“HAHAHA! Val, do you see what I’m seeing? Alastor finally shows up to a meeting after getting his butt handed to him by the first man, and look at him—he’s gained weight! Alastor seems too preoccupied with indulging in food to be an overlord these days.” Standing beside Vox, Val leered at Alastor's figure. “Vox, don't call someone pregnant fat. It's unusual for a sinner to become pregnant... quite the spectacle indeed.” He licked his lips, already calculating how much profit he could make from this situation. Vox nearly malfunctioned before bursting into laughter. “That’s hilarious, Val! As if Alastor would ever have sex, let alone get knocked up!” Val grinned wickedly, still ogling Alastor's swollen belly. “Alastor, you look incredibly attractive now. If you ever want a role in my productions... Before Val could finish his sentence, Rosie moved with lightning speed. She grabbed Val by the neck, lifting him off the ground effortlessly. At the same time, Lucifer transformed into his full demon form, towering and menacing with fiery wings spread wide. Adam strained to hold Lucifer back, but it was clear that his control was slipping. Alastor watched on with a smirk as Rosie slowly squeezed the life (or rather second death) out of Val. He took great pleasure in seeing these two vultures put in their place. Rosie turned her head slightly, still holding Val firmly, and calmly said to Alastor, “Darling, why don’t you go ahead into the meeting room while I take care of this trash?” Vox, sensing danger, attempted to attack, but Adam quickly released Lucifer. With a mighty roar, Lucifer pounced on Vox, and chaos erupted—filled with screams, growls, and satisfying crunches of bone.

Adam offered his arm to Alastor, who accepted it with a smile. As they walked down the hallway, the sounds of Vox and Val’s suffering echoed behind them, a symphony of vengeance that brought a wicked grin to Alastor’s lips. When they entered the meeting room, the other overlords couldn’t help but stare. Alastor met their gazes with a confident smirk, his presence commanding the room. Adam, ever the protector, pulled out a chair for Alastor and stood behind him, his eyes daring anyone to challenge them. The tension in the room was palpable, with Carmilla seething in her seat, ready to reprimand Alastor for what she saw as a blatant disruption of their meeting. But before she could get a word out, the doors to the room burst open. All eyes turned as Rosie and Lucifer strode in, both drenched in the blood of their foes. The severed heads of Val and Vox dangled from their hands, a gruesome warning to anyone who dared to cross them. Without saying a word, they presented the heads to Alastor, who accepted them with a chilling smile that sent shivers down the spines of everyone present. It was a clear message: the Radio Demon was not to be trifled with.

Carmilla's composure wavered as she struggled to regain control of the situation. Clearing her throat, she attempted to assert herself once more. "Alastor, I demand to speak with you immediately!"

However, before she could continue, two furious growls reverberated through the room—one from Lucifer and another from Adam. The intensity of their protective anger was enough to make Carmilla break out in a cold sweat. At that moment, she realized just how precarious her position had become.

Still wearing his unsettling smile, Alastor reclined in his chair. "Of course, Carmilla, but I'm afraid my mates will have to join me. I do hope that's not a problem for you." His voice was smooth and charming, but the underlying threat was impossible to ignore.

Carmilla shuddered under his piercing gaze, her confidence crumbling before him. She glanced around the room, taking note of the silent approval—or rather, fear—on the faces of the other overlords. Realizing she had no choice, she quickly called off the meeting, her voice trembling as she did so.

As the rest of the overlords began to disperse, Rosie leaned over and whispered into Alastor’s ear, “I’ll be waiting for you, darling.” Alastor nodded at her, the glint in his eyes hinting at his amusement. As Carmilla struggled to regain her composure, Lucifer and Adam moved closer to Alastor, their hands placed protectively on him. Their low growls were directed at Carmilla, filling the room with tension and a palpable sense of their immense power.

But Alastor remained unfazed, reclining in his chair with a charming yet sinister smile on his lips. "Carmilla," he purred, his voice velvety smooth, "what did you need to ask me?" Unable to meet his gaze, Carmilla's eyes darted away. The pressure from both Lucifer and Adam, combined with Alastor's unnerving calm, made her feel trapped. She swallowed hard, her earlier determination crumbling under their overwhelming presence. "I... I was just going to suggest," she stammered, struggling for words, "that perhaps we should postpone this discussion for another time." Alastor's smile widened, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "How considerate of you," he replied with mock politeness. "I believe that would be best. Now, if you'll excuse us."

With that, Alastor stood up from his chair as Lucifer and Adam stood by his side in a protective stance. Carmilla could only nod, feeling a mixture of relief and dread as they left the room. The power dynamics had shifted drastically, and it was evident to all that Alastor was not someone to be trifled with now that he had the king and the first man as his mates. As they walked away, Alastor cast one last glance over his shoulder, his expression both amusing and warning. Quickly averting her eyes, Carmilla knew she had narrowly escaped a much worse outcome.

Rosie Lucifer and Adam sat calmly, drinking their coffee while keeping a close watch on Alastor; their protective instincts were never far away. Despite their calm attitude, the love and care they had for Alastor was clear in the way they watched Rosie work, their gazes occasionally connecting in quiet agreement. Rosie measured Alastor with ease, maintaining a pleasant stream of conversation. Her hands moved expertly, adjusting clothes and taking notes, but her attention was always focused on assuring Alastor's comfort and relaxation. Alastor, for his part, found himself settling into the moment, the stress of the day gradually easing with Rosie's calming company and the soothing presence of his mates around him. As Rosie worked on the clothing details, discussing materials and designs, Alastor felt a sense of calm come over him. The warmth of the room, scented by his mates with the sound of the fabric and thread, mixed with conversation, made him feel at ease. The day's events disappeared. He knew that with Lucifer, Adam, and Rosie by his side, he could find calm in any storm. The hours went by in a whirl of fabric, needles, and mutual laughter. Alastor was overjoyed when Rosie completed the basic designs. She created outfits for him that were not only beautiful but also tailored with his comfort in mind, precisely accommodating his increasing belly while preserving his unique style. "Thank you, Rosie," Alastor replied quietly, his appreciation clear in his voice. "You always know exactly what I need. "Rosie beamed with pride as she smiled at him. "I will do anything for you, darling." Now I expect you to take care of yourself and your fawn. Remember, I'm here whenever you need me." Then Rosie glanced to Lucifer and Adam, who instantly straightened in their chairs, a mischievous smile. "Don't think you're off the hook, you two," she grinned and continued. I'll be at the hotel this weekend to start making wedding arrangements. "When the topic of preparing for the wedding was brought up, Lucifer and Adam shared a look of discomfort. However, Rosie's grin was contagious, and they immediately relaxed, nodding in accord. Alastor chuckled at their reaction, feeling a rush of affection for all three of them. With the finishing touches complete, Rosie drew Alastor into a tight hug, her embrace full of the love and care she had always given him. "Take care," she said as they parted ways. As Alastor, Lucifer, and Adam made their way home, the significance of the day's events faded into the background. The trip back was peaceful; when they eventually reached their shared rooms, Alastor felt a deep feeling of tranquility wash over him, the familiar surroundings and comforting presence of his mates making him feel genuinely at home.

#goldenradio #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin adam #hazbin lucifer

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