#i can just imagine them not talking for like a week but wanting to talk LMAO

[katiascraft]

༄“I would set the world on fire for you” | LN4 ⟢

Parings: lando norris x gf!reader.

Summary: after the Brazil GP, lando comes home to the worst week of his year. Also, it was his birthday. So even though the world hates him, you wanna make sure he is loved and he did nothing wrong. And that if you could you would set the world on fire for him.

Word count: +5k.

Warnings: written and smau. angst and fluff at the same time. Anxiety attack. Overthinking. Selfhatred. Language. And that’s it. I’m not a native English speaker so there could be (so many) errors. Not proofread.

Author’s note: lately I NEED to write things to cope with my feelings so here it is. Hope Vegas is good to all of my boys 💌 don’t forget to like, reflow or comment! Ur support its way loved here. and follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

MASTERLIST

Your heart was completely shattered. Your heart was racing to get out of your car at the airport. In exactly 20 minutes your boyfriend will be back home after the worst weekend ever imagined. You couldn't assist the Brazilian GP because of your work schedule. You had a few meetings after Mexico gp. And you felt so guilty about it. You knew lando would be more protected if you were there. At least in the intimacy of you, emotionally speaking. Having someone there for him to hug and to comfort him. to calm his mind. To stop the self hatred you knew it was playing right now in his head. 

Lando is an overthinker and you get him because you were also one. You knew to which scenarios his mind can travel to and how painful it can be for him to live with himself sometimes. You were fighting your tears reading all of the atrocious things people commented online. You knew that wasn't real life. But you also knew he would see all that and how that would weigh in his heart. They can never let him win. And the worst part was only because it was just him. Other drivers could do or say worse things and everybody would laugh and brush it off. But when it came to Lando, he was a monster, a loser, an arrogant son of a bitch. That hurt deeply. Because in reality lando is the sweetest soul you have ever met. And you knew how vulnerable he could be. Tho you always admired him for that. You always thought that the bravest and strongest people in this world are the ones that admit to need help, the ones that are vulnerable and open about it. In a world this cruel, that was no easy task. But he did time and time again.and he did even knowing how shitty people were gonna be to him. Though, he did it for people he knew that counted on him. Lando always talks about how people sometimes come to him saying he has saved their lives and the impact he had on them. It's something beautiful yet that weighted on his  shoulders as well, you thought. 

You crossed the airport gates. Anxiety shaking your whole body. You wanted to hug him so bad. To tell him everything was gonna be fine. 

You opened the flight information he sent you before his plane took off so you looked for the probable gate he was coming out of when landed. Even though you were anxious you were also relieved that he was home with you.

After a few minutes passed by, a lot of people started coming out of the door you were waiting for. You started gazing at everyone just to find him. After a bunch of people got out, there he was. One of the last ones to go through the door. When you saw him your body almost came undone. You were out of air for a moment while the two of you got closer. When he is finally within reach, you give him the strongest hug you could. He melted on you, hugging you by your neck. Not much time passed when you heard him crying hid in your neck. Your heart that was shattered, broke immediately. You tighter your grip unto him. He started to sob and you couldn't hold your own tears at that point. You knew he had the worst time on that flight, alone with his cruel thoughts torturing him for hours. And there was nothing that you could do to protect him. You couldn't say a word. There was nothing that you could say that it would make things better right now. 

Lando was sobbing and shaking. His levels of anxiety reached a high when he saw you standing there looking for him desperately with your eyes. He needed you. But life’s a bitch and you couldn't stay with him throughout the whole American leg. He came undone in your arms. He needed to hug you for so long. He was broken. His mind replying to all the mistakes he made. All of his wrong decisions. All of the shit he said. He was embarrassed, angry and defeated. He was ashamed of himself. Disgusted. Frustrated and scared.  

Yu rubbed his back trying to comfort him in the hug and trying to not cry so you could be the strong one for him. He needed you, you knew it. And you wanted to fix all of this in a snap of fingers, but you couldn't. 

“It’s okay baby. You are gonna be alright, I promise. I love you. You’re home now ", Yu said, to make him feel at least slightly better. When he heard you he started sobbing even harder. You let him take all the time he needed. While doing so, you tried to see where you were and how you could, if someone was recording and taking a picture. Fortunately you were almost alone. It was the last flight arriving for today. You feel relieved knowing this won't be used against him by the cruel internet trolls. 

(...)

The drive home was silent. No music, no speaking. He didn't even look at you the whole ride. He was looking through the window avoiding any contact with society you thought while driving your Audi R8 V10 GT RWD through the illuminated Monaco streets. It was around 9pm. You had cooked for him some home made pasta you knew he adored. You just wanted him to feel better. 

When you got home, he took his bags to the room with your help. You left his second suitcase next to his wardrobe and saw him lying on the bed.

“I made your fav homemade pasta. Do you want me to bring it here and eat it in bed?” you offered him with a soft voice. He was looking to the ceiling. He did not answer right away, but after a few moments he did.

“I'm not hungry, but thank you. Maybe i'll eat later” he said with a deep cracky voice and turned himself in the bed showing you his back. You frowned a bit. 

He couldn't look at you. He hated that you could see him like this. He was ashamed of himself drawing in self pity and self hatred. He felt he let you down. 

“Aln, did you eat something during the flight at least?” you asked worriedly, walking forward to the bed so you could get closer to him. You sat on the table next to his back looking at him. You didn't want to touch him just because you didn't know if he would want you to. You didn't want to be invasive. You stayed in silence for a few minutes. You understood he didn't eat, that he didn't want to either or speak. So you stood up and let him have his alone time closing the door gently behind your back.

You ate alone that night.in silence just as if you could hear him from your kitchen aisle. The past was really good. You turned off your phone after washing the dishes and tidied the kitchen and living room up. You didn't want to see what social media was saying about your lover before bed. It was already enough scrolling and reading so many people wishing lando to die. That was the hardest part of it all. You left your phone charging on the kitchen counter and went to your shared room. When you entered he was already showered getting into the bed again. You half smiled at him even though he couldn't see you. You put on your pajamas in silence and climbed up the bed. He looked at you while you were getting comfortable next to him. 

Your eyes met. Any of you said anything. Just looked at each other trying to read each other thought as if that was possible. He licked his dry lips. His eyes turned glassy.

“I messed everything up,” he said almost in a whisper. Your heart is breaking again. You shook your head at him getting closer and bringing him into your chest. You hugged him tightly.

“No you didnt baby. Sometimes people are just mean, you know? They will interpret things as the wish” you said softly rubbing his back and arm and caressing his hair gently. He felt a bit better under your frame. He felt protected but as a little kid when missbehaved so now he tries to find comfort. He didn't want to cry.he was trying hard not to let tears stream down his cheeks.  You kissed his forehead and made him look at you. “I know you dont wanna talk about it but i  love and i am so deeply and entirely proud of you” you whisper close to his face. You saw him pout and the first tears coming down his face. You hugged him tightly. He hid in your neck and eventually fell asleep. You wanted to set the world on fire for this. You wanted to ruin every single person who says awful things about it. The comments, the media. You wanted to destroy everything and everyone just to protect him. He doesn't deserve this. He is an angel and you can't believe the world could only see the devil in him. 

Lando tried to sleep but he couldn't. Everytime he closed his eyes, all of the tragic scenes from the race replayed in his mind. How the car felt, the rain, the radio messages, Oscar's voice, comments from his engineer . everything replayed in his head torturing him the worst way possible. He felt like getting down. He felt alone and miserable. He remembered Oscar words replying in his mind over and over again. “You will eventually make it, mate”. It was a positive message but he replayed it like a fucking nightmare. 

What if he never makes it? What if he doesn't have what it takes? What if people are right? What if he is actually a monster and deserves to die? What if he did? Would they like him again or figure him out? Would anyone care about his feelings? Why does it have to be him and not someone else? Why are they all so cruel to him?

He couldn't stop thinking about every single detail about the weekend. He didn't want to celebrate his birthday anymore. He had you there but couldn't look at you. He felt disgusted by himself. He can't control it. He wants to go back into go karts and stop the time when he was actually happy and having fun with his friends. Now that line between friends and enemies is so blurry for him. Max didn't talk to him like before when all of this shit started. He knew Max was really competitive, of course he did, everyone knew it since day 1. But what about their friendship? Lando shit talked, max shit talked. He felt so confused even by his own feelings around this whole shitty situation or championship situation. Whatever you want to call it. 

(...)

When you woke up the next morning he was gone. You felt kind of confused for a bit. You heard him talking so you guessed he was speaking on the phone. When you got up from bed you walked out the room to find him. When you got closer to the living room you knew he was talking to Max on facetime because you heard his voice. 

“Morning, guys” you said, getting into the kitchen for some water to take your thyroid pills. Lando looked at you half-smile. 

“Good morning baby” he said as sweetly as he could. You smiled at him. Before coming back to your room to shower and stuff you went and gave him a good morning kiss making Max almost throw up when he saw you in a funny way. You showed him the middle finger and disappeared so he could talk in private with his mate. You respected his place a lot. And i guess that’s why you understand so much each other. 

(...)

The following day things got worse. Lando hasn't eaten any meal you prepared for him, didn't even want to have take out or anything. You found him crying in the kitchen and in the garden by the pool of your house. His anxiety was killing him, you knew. The desperation and guilt were eating him alive and you didn't know what to do rather than try to talk and comfort him.

He was sitting on the sofa in the living room. His sight was fixed on the floor without moving. You got alarmed because you knew what was going on. You got close slowly to not trigger him even more. His face was red, his hands sweaty and shaking. You sat on the floor diagonal from him looking at him. Slowly and gently you grabbed his hands trying to capture his brain's attention and get him out of the fog he was in. You were almost sure he was having an anxiety attack and he started because of your touch. You gently rubbed your fingers in his hands. He was out of breath for a moment and you got scared so you tried to do as your therapist told you in case someone you know goes through this. 

“Lan, can you hear me? Try to pay attention to my voice okay? I'm here and I'm with you dull be alright” you said really softly trying to make him look at you. You looked for his eyes with your gaze. “It’s not as terrible as you think, baby, I promise. You aren't all of those things people comment” you used your words carefully. His hands caught your strength and so you reassured him. You saw his pout becoming deeper. You hurt to see him like this. It was so unfair. He doesnt deserve this, god. And he broke. He broke down again. His tears streamed down his face. Sobbing in so much pain. You sat next to him to hug him tightly once more. But now you knew it was worse. He was shaking under your arms.you let him go through this. So he can let go of all of this shit inside him. “I promise lando, you aren't all of those things. People are just mean and cruel. You are a good baby and so talented. Gifted. You have it in you I promise, I can see it” you tried to comfort him with your words as well, trying to distract your mind from the tragic thought he was dealing with by himself. A few tears fell down your face. It was a hard time. And you were trying to be strong for him. 

“I'm so stupid I'm sorry” he sobbed and you shook your head. 

“No, Lando, you aren't. I promise okay? Believe me.i know you and you aren't. And this will pass. All the people that know you for real, we love you and we are so proud of you. You had an amazing year. You are fucking fighting a three time world champion, even sooner than he did with lewis back in 2021. That’s huge my love. Your dream is near, I just know it. Because I know you, and you’ll make it, baby. You didn't let anyone down. You're getting stronger so when you finally make it, all of these moments will make it taste so much better and sweeter” you explained while rubbing his back. Your words made an effect on him. Heslowly calming down. He didn't want to let you go. He wanted to just stay there in your arms. Where he felt safe and sound. Noone could hurt him there. That was what made him fall for you. You saw him. You knew him. And you care about him. He was finally important for someone for being lando, and not lando norris formula one driver. His past lovers left him feeling confused whether they loved him for him or their idea of him. You came outta nowhere and blew him away. You were brutally honest, no filter yet so gentle and caring with your words. He thought his perfect girl didn't exist but then there was you, listening to him for hours if he needed to. Giving him the best advice and clearing his perspective. Always cheering him up. Cracking jokes so he could distract and feel relaxed. Heknew he was in love with you the moment you offered to give him a ride because he was drunk as well at a new years party. It was normal but the fact that a stranger could do that for him blew his mind. He never admitted afraid people would think it’s weird. But it is what it is. Your smile ended him right there and when you started cracking jokes he didn't want to live in that damn car for the rest of his life. So here you are 4 years later,and you still be the greatest person in the world and the one who knew him the most. He felt your lips on his forehead. For a moment he thought about leaving racing. What if his life was better without it in it? He could go back to Bristol and be with his friends. With you. Maybe start a family and have a normal job so you could spend each day together. He started crying again at that thought. He loved racing but this year was the hardest yet amazing one. 

He finally calmed down after a few minutes in silence. He looked at you with puppy eyes. You caressed his face gently brushing a few tears falling down still. 

“Would you be there with me? Could you?” he asked, making you a bit confused. And he noticed. “To the races. I need you there. Please. To every race and when I become a champion,would you be there with me? You could feel he's scared. You half smiled at him melting as his comment.

“Of course I'll be there, baby. I’ll always be there for and with you. If I could , I would set the whole world on fire just for you. Never doubt it, okay?” he nodded and you pulled him closer to give him so many little kisses around his whole face making him gigle a little. 

“I love you, y/n” he said looking at you fondly.

“I love you, lando. Everything’s gonna be alright” you said, assuring him and gave a peck on his lips. “Go have a shower and dress cute im gonna take you out on a date before your birthday” you said more lighful to cheer him up and his face lit up.

“Really?” you noddedat him and send him to shower agin funny. Before going with him so yhou both looked facy, you needed to say something to the world. You couldnt stay crossed arms and do nothing about it. 

── .✦

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maxfewtrell: I CHOKED

norrisfan: omg thank u queen for this

user45: ur as dumb as he is. you cant defend him. he sucks and thats it darling. don lie to yourself.

── .✦

You turned off your phone once again. You were already so fed up with it all. Let them talk. You were sure they would choke with their own shit eventually. 

but  continued with the day. Lando was still a little off but he was looking better so maybe he is actually feeling better. You took out to dinner at a restaurant he always dreamed of going to. He was so happy to be there. The food was delicious. It was near the beach though it is colder here so we looked at it through the glass window. You gossip and talk about anything and everything as if everything was alright. And it was a fact it was. Because this is real life. Not social media. A few people stopped you while eating to ask for pictures and Lando said yes every time you even became a photoshoot photographer. Nice people telling him nice things was what he needed right now. Plus, you would never be pissed off by his fans. You were actually grateful for them. Of course, some can be disrespectful but you knew the real one was it. You really embraced Lando's life even though it’s nothing like the life you’d dreamed of to have one day. But he is the boy of your dreams so why would it be a problem. 

November, 13th

When the clock hit midnight, the restaurant made a cake for him so we all sang him happy birthday. You chose his favorite type of cake. He giggled all nervous and shy. His cheeks red while his eyes showed a little sparkle while watching the candles. He blew them. You recorded the whole thing and took so many pictures. He thanked the staff and staff of the restaurant and they let you enjoy the cake in comfort. Your heart was full to see him a little back again. 

After The restaurant kicked you out because they needed to close, you decided to do a road trip through the mountains of monaco. You always enjoy a good ride with good music and good company. And you also had sex in the car. You kind of guessed he needed to take his frustrations out somehow because you had the rough sex you really enjoyed. He joked it was his best birthday present making you laugh. He was joking again. 

“Thank you” he said while gently rubbing your naked chest. You were seated on him. You smiled and leaned for a soft kiss on his lips. You really loved him. And all you wanted for him was happiness and well being. And you would do anything to make sure he is okay. 

You came back home and had another round of sex. Enjoying yourselves in intimacy. Lando finally fell asleep after a terrible few days, in the calm of your body. His face on your bare chest. You clothed him and fell asleep relieved.

── .✦

yourusername made a post

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yourusername: What can I say about you? There's no words that can describe your greatness. Or my feelings for you. I'm so grateful you were born on November 13th. 25 years ago my best friend and the love of my life was brought to this world. And sometimes what unfair is that, right? A world that is so cruel to you. A world that doesn't deserve your greatness and kindness nor your attention. You are the greatest son, brother, uncle, friend and lover. Anyone who says otherwise doesn't actually know you. We are all so lucky that you choose us to spend your time on this world with. Thank you for being who you care. For caring about the people you love and making sure we are alright and happy. Thank you for being the light that you are for so many lives. Thank you for being vulnerable. I admire you so much, lan. You are the strongest and bravest human I know. so honest and open. Anyone who says otherwise, actually, doesn't know you. I know this is not the best birthday of your life, but I promise you I'll try to make it better. Thank you for being who you are to me. I promise I see you and I care. You're the love of my life. And I'm so lucky you love me over any other human out there. So happy birthday to the prettiest and most genuine, real, fun, kind, warm person I have the chance to call mine everyday. Hope you have the best day you can have right now. That’s the least you deserve. I love you forever bestie. Don’t ever change.

tagged: landonorris

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── .✦

── .✦

So you had a master plan for Lando's birthday. You went to the Hilton hotel for some coffee with Max and Lando of course. We lied and said pietra couldn't make it because she had a meeting and Lando believed. Truth was, you have contacted all of his friends and arregened flights so everyone could make it to Monaco on time. Pietra was the one in your house. You left her a spare key yesterday evening after coffee with alex. You gave her the directions and the idea of what you wanted while you and Max distracted Lando until 7pm, she decorated the house and received all of his friends. Lando had no clue of what was going on but he was so happy it was the second cake you brought to him. You recorded the moment and seeing him smile made your heart melt. 

── .✦

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landonorris: I love you greatest girlfriend there to exist. Thank u for everything and specially for making this day so much better. Ur an Angel ❤️‍🩹

⤷ yourusername: I love u more Angel ❤️‍🩹 the least you deserve is to be loved and happy.

User33: 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Landostan: THANK U FOR EXISTING AND TAKING SUCH CARE OF HIM UR A QUEEN I LOVE U WE LOVE U

carlossainz55: ur the best 🫶🏻

⤷ yourusername: te extraño hermano we need to double date with Rebecca again asap!

── .✦

When 7pm came around we all “decided” to go to your house and eat pizza for dinner. Lando even said to me that they could do a stream and have fun for a bit. You agreed and all knowing that wasn't gonna happen. The ride home was so much fun. You spent the 20 minute ride screaming a one direction song from the top of your lungs. You sang Lando ‘through the dark’ And he sang ‘You and i’.it was lovely, Max almost threw up when you kissed. Luckily he was driving so he hadn't watched much of your pda. 

You got out of the car trying to play it cool though you were so nervous. You saw Max texting Pietra that you were close.the lights were off. And silent. Your nervousness took over you when you tried to open the door but let the keys fall nervously. Thankfully Max and Lando were discussing which type of pizza they would order. Finally you opened the door, lando behind you and so you turned on the lights.

Everyone jumped from everywhere saying happy birthday in unison. Yoursmile was so big but when you saw lando his smile was even bigger.

“Surprise!” you said and lando was still processing it. But when his friend started hugging him he started crying out of joy. He thought his friends weren't coming this year because of their busy schedule.but that was a lie you made them tell so lando wouldn suspect anything. Fortunately, they all kept the secret safe. Lando was so happy. 

You all spent the night playing poker, drinking gin and tonics and surrounded by laughter and love. In the moment, around everybody, you felt lucky to be there. Especially to be in landos life. Everyone was so sweet and good just like him. He deserves the world.

Everyone went home around 2 am. You were exhausted and tipsy at the end of the night. So you put your pajamas on and sled straight on the bed. Lando wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Thank you for everything. It was a great birthday. Thank u for always taking care of me always.you make me the happiest” he said under a whisper looking at you. He looked so gorgeous with that little smile and tired eyes. You stroked his cheek gently, smiling. 

“You deserve to be happy darling. You are unstoppable. Better days at work will come,I know.but im grateful that you have so much love surrounding you. I love you” he smiled widely listening to you and leaned to kiss you with so much feelings and passion. You were the greatest thing that ever happened to him and also the greatest decision he has ever made when he asked you out.

── .✦

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f1gossipofficial: here it is @/yourusername at the McLaren garage ready for fp1 cheering for his 4 year boyfriend @/landonorris! Lando was asked about the whole drama around the Brazil gp and his birthday and her statement and he said ‘I’m lucky to have her. I would set the world on fire for her. So yeah. We are the same that is why we work so well. It was a great birthday though. She brought my whole group of friend to Monaco for a poker night so yeah’ also he said that if it wasn’t for her he would’ve collapsed on his overthinking but thankfully she was there. We love a power couple on the grid!! What do we think about all of this? #LasVegasGP2024

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User1873: they are both the same shit tbh

User23: I LOVE THEM GREATEST COUPLE ON THE GRID

User29873: I don’t like lando but she cute supporting him like that. I saw she gave a kiss to him before getting into the car. They seem in love!

⤷ Usrr988: I KNOW TIGHT I THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY I CAUGHT THAT KISS IN THE OFFICIAL TRANSMISSION

Yourbff: she is the greatest person you would know!! Let’s go lan!!!

User564: Max will win the dwc and NOTHING would change that or move me so

User90: omg she is so pretty

y/nstan: how lucky lando is to have her. She is always the sweetest to all of his fans. And also funny. Such a queen!

User897: where are the pictures of them arriving together????????! I NEED THEM

⤷ user45: so iconic need to marry asap

── .✦

It was the day. The day you were back to media duties. Back to being a target for social media. Back supporting your boyfriend no matter what. You even went on media day to be there for him if he needed it. You chatted with everyone around to entertain yourself while he was doing interviews. 

Oscar helped a lot and the whole McLaren team to make Lando feel safe and actually enjoy the weekend. You Were grateful for it. At least they decided not to be dicks in front of his face. 

Fp1 was about to start and you were proudly there in the garage to cheer on him. You were also anxious because you felt things almost like him and this competition is rather never racking. You kissed him gently but shortly. A good luck kiss before getting into the car. He smiled widely. 

“Go be the best you can be. You’re great” you told him sweetly.

“I'll try my best to impress you,” he replied, letting go of your hand. 

“You already do everyday babe” you said smiling making him grin before walking into the car to start the first session of the weekend. 

You watched from there how fp1 unfolded hoping this would be a great weekend.

── .✦ FIN

Hope you liked it 💌 if you have any ideas my inbox is open so send your requests!

[beloveds-embrace]

dukedom!AU but they realize she’s quickly become a type of ‘peoples princess’ outside the duchy

The timeline for this one is before reader tells john her request! I got this ask before part two dropped and already had some of it written. Hope you enjoy, anon! <3

Dukedome au masterlist

I can imagine them realizing it not from seeing it, but from hearing it, maybe during a gala hosted by John and uou. The evening is alive with music and laughter, the grand ballroom brimming with nobles and dignitaries. Yet the chatter revolve around one figure: you.

“She’s truly remarkable, isn’t she?” one elderly countess says, her voice carrying across the marble floors and gleaming ceilings. “Always so graceful, so kind. I am quite glad she is Duchess Price, now.”

John stands near the refreshments table with Simon, and overhears the conversation. His hand tightens slightly around his glass, though his face betrays nothing. Nothing new to be talked about, it was natural. And yet-

“Graceful?” a younger lady chimes in, voice calm and polite. “She’s more than that. Did you hear she personally visited the orphanage last week? Brought food and clothing, spoke to every child. And not for show- she refused to let any journalists near. That’s a true duchess.”

Simon’s brows furrows slightly, his jaw tightening. He exchanges a glance with John, the unspoken thought between them clear: she hadn’t told either of them about that visit. It wasn’t because John didn’t trust you, or that you need his permission; he just wanted to be aware of where you go and which guards you’ll take. For your own safety.

“She’s so approachable too,” a lord adds, gesturing with his wine glass. John knows this lord, he always ends up drinking too much and being too handsy. Why would you need to speak to him? “I spoke to her briefly earlier- she didn’t just listen, she cared. You can see it in her eyes. It’s no wonder the people adore her.”

Adore is putting it way too lightly.

From the other side of the room, Kyle watches as a small group of maids gossip near the staircase. He wasn’t one for eavesdropping, but their excitement is hard to ignore.

“I heard she gave her own jewelry to the head maid’s daughter to help her pay for her dowry.” One of them whispers, clutching her tray.

“That’s not all,” another group are speaking, talking about her as well. “The market vendors say she always pays more than is needed, even when they insist she doesn’t do. Such a lovely woman.”

“Wish the other nobles were like her,” the first maid says with a wistful sigh. “She’s the only one who treats us like people.”

Kyle’s lips press into a thin line as he adjusts his gloves. He prides himself on protecting you, but hearing how far your kindness extends fills him with a quiet sense of urgency. What if someone takes advantage of you and your tender heart?

It’s not just in the main hall that these words are said; down in the kitchens, Johnny is busy ensuring there’s enough food with the rest of the chefs. But still, he can hear two others talking while they work, trying not to sound too snappy or angry while he listens in on them.

As the night continues, the men find themselves more and more aware of how often your name arises in conversation. They hear nobles discussing your fashion choices (Simon secretly preens), others whispering about your visits to the poorer parts of town and the funds that have been allocated into revitalizing the areas, and even rival duchesses grudgingly admitting that you’ve set quite the high standard.

“I heard she stopped Lord Clinton from evicting his tenants,” one man says near the dance floor, though not quite close enough to be drawn into the dancing bodies. He is within John and Simon’s earshots.

“Not only that,” someone else “whispers”. “She made sure they had food and shelter through the winter. commoners love her, and she truly embodies what it means to be a noble. A true people’s princess, I say.”

John’s gaze flickers toward you, standing across the room and laughing softly with a group of nobles. You’re glowing tonight, the light catching in your hair and your smile as warm as ever, adorned in a beautiful dress.

“They don’t deserve her,” Kyle mutters, sidling up to him while holding a plate of finger foods.

John doesn’t respond, but his grip on his glass tightens again. It’s a wonder the glass hasn’t broken et.

Simon’s voice is quiet when he speaks. “The people see her as theirs.” He pauses, his gaze hardening. “But she’s ours first.”

“I cannot blame them.” John sighs. “She is the perfect duchess. But she is also my duchess, and they seem to have forgotten that.”

John means his words, and he knows his men agree with him. The world may love you, but they know the truth: no one else can have you- not the people, not the nobles, no one but them.

The ballroom continues to buzz with conversation, and John focuses back on the two men near the edge of the dance floor.

“She’s wasted on a duchy,” one of them says, swirling his wine with a smirk, more than just a little drunk. “With her charm, she could outshine the Queen herself.”

“Not just charm,” the other adds in, just as drunk. “But Influence.”

Simon stiffens, his fingers flexing at his sides. “Influence” isn’t something he takes lightly when it comes to you. It’s a dangerous thing in the wrong hands- or with the wrong admirers.

“Careful,” John mutters to him. “They’re complimenting her, not threatening her.”

Simon’s glare softens ever so slightly. “Yet.”

Johnny slowly makes his way towards a hidden corner of the ballroom, gnawing on his lips as he listens to the whispers of you.

Did you see the way she stopped to speak with the gardeners?” one of them asks. “She even complimented the hedges I trimmed last week!”

Johnny’s grin fades, his fingers drumming against his thigh. He enjoys seeing people appreciate you, but this feels different. They speak of you with reverence, as if you’re some untouchable figure. But Johnny knows better. You’re no untouchable goddess- you’re his. Theirs. That’s what matters most.

It’s when you step onto the dance floor that the tension truly rises. A duke- one who’s been eyeing you all evening- approaches you with a bow, extending his hand for a dance. You hesitate, glancing toward John out of instinct. He doesn’t move, but his eyes darken, his jaw clenched as he watches you take the duke’s hand.

The music swells and you move across the floor, laughter bubbles from your lips at something your dance partner says. The men see it for what it is: polite, nothing more. But it doesn’t stop the knot of irritation tightening even further.

“She’s a vision,” someone murmurs nearby, unaware they’re being overheard.

“Who wouldn’t fall for her?” another replies.

The words hang in the air, heavy with implication.

Kyle’s gaze sharpens. Johnny’s grin vanishes completely. Simon’s fists clench at his sides. And John, ever composed, finishes his wine in one long swallow, his eyes never leaving you.

He can’t allow this to go on for any longer.

The dance ends, and as you return to the edge of the ballroom, you’re immediately surrounded by more admirers- ladies complimenting your gown, lords vying for your attention. Or would have been, if John hadn’t started making his way towards you, presence larger than life.

“Your Grace,” he says smoothly, and extends his hand to you, his expression unreadable. “Dance with me.”

The request- or rather, the command- is met with stunned silence. The nobles exchange glances, but a single glance from John keeps them all silent.

You blink up at him, momentarily caught off guard, before placing your hand in his. “Of course.” you murmur softly.

John’s grip is firm but gentle as he leads you to the dance floor, his other hand resting lightly at your waist. The orchestra begins a soft waltz, and he pulls you into the first step, his movements confident and assured.

Around you, the crowd watches, whispers starting anew, though you barely notice. All you can focus on is the intensity in John’s eyes as he looks down at you.

“You’ve been busy tonight.” he says after a moment, his voice low enough that only you can hear. It sends a shiver up your spine- his voice always so nice to hear.

“It’s my role,” you reply, offering him a small smile. “Everyone has been so kind.”

He hums, his eyes flicking briefly to the onlookers before returning to you. “Too kind, perhaps.”

You raise an eyebrow at his tone but say nothing, letting him guide you across the floor. His hand tightens slightly at your waist, and he pulls you even more closer.

“You’ve done well tonight,” he says after a moment, his voice softer now. “Better than I expected, if I’m honest. But I shouldn’t have been surprised. You always seem to surprise me, my dear.”

Your cheeks warm at the unexpected praise, and you smile up at him. “Thank you, John. That means a great deal.”

He leans in just slightly, his breath ghosting over your ear. “The way they look at you,” he murmurs, his voice dropping even lower. “They can’t take their eyes off you. And I don’t blame them.”

You glance up at him, startled, but his expression is unreadable once again. He continues to lead you effortlessly through the dance, his movements precise.

“But,” he continues, his gaze locking onto yours, “they’ll have to remember who you belong to.”

Your heart skips at his words, and for a moment, you forget where you are, the world narrowing to just the two of you. His eyes soften, his grip steady as he twirls you into the final steps of the dance.

As the music fades, he leans in again, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re exquisite tonight, wife. Don’t let them forget it.”

With that, he leads you off the dance floor, his hand never leaving yours. The crowd parts for the both of you, their gazes following you both as John guides you back to the edge of the room, where the others wait.

You’re still breathless, his words replaying in your mind as he steps aside, positioning himself at your shoulder. Whatever protests the nobles might’ve had about your absence dissolve under his watchful glare.

And though John doesn’t say another word for the rest of the evening, his presence alone is enough to ensure no one dares to crowd you again, and no one comes between you and them. Simon and Kyle keep you busy, chatting happily with them, and Johnny joins later when the guests begin to trickle out and no one would question why a chef is there.

People’s princess you maybe, you are still theirs. John simply had to show and remind everyone of that fact.

[our-hextech-dream]

i haven't seen anyone fully articulate what i personally felt disappointed by wrt viktor's s2 persona and ending so i guess i have to do it myself even tho i'm bad at talking!! can someone who is better at this just read my mind and say it fancier and more coherently?

agency, the loss of

i have seen people already mention the way disability came into play at the end and what a wild choice it was for jayce - born able-bodied and healthy - to be the one to tell viktor - trapped in a body that was actively killing him - that actually your disability is a part of you and made you who you are and you owe everything to it. ... huh? jayce (by which i mean the writers), do you think without his disability, viktor wouldn't have still been a genius? yes, viktor is disabled - that's not even remotely what makes him a compelling character and power player. it is his mind not his body that makes him who he is. the fact that he had to waste almost his whole life fighting against that body to achieve anything is the entire crux of his frustration - imagine what he could have dedicated his mind to if he weren't constantly struggling to find a way just to survive another year, another month, another week, one more day. have you thought about it? because he has. so yeah that whole conversation, trash. bruno mars just the way you are ass one direction that's what makes you beautiful ass argument. viktor was not going crazy over cosmetic surgery, he was trying not to die.

but it strikes me as just one more expression of an overarching theme for s2 viktor - that of the complete and total loss of his agency. (more on a meta level than in the show itself, but also in the show!) i said after act 1 that viktor had died in that explosion and jayce was going to be chasing that corpse until the end, and i was correct. viktor bounced from one mindset to another, never seeming to have any consistent ideology of his own that couldn't be changed as soon as the plot demanded it. at any given point he was just kinda... wandering around, doing some random shit with the powers that worked through him. gone was the viktor who used his own hands and mind to influence the world directly, to bend it to his will. i always always felt this and i stand by it - taking viktor's abilities as an inventor and scientist away and turning him into some arcane mage jesus figure was a mistake and a disservice to his character. arcane said no this boy wasn't smart or determined, his ability to build and invent and seek and learn don't matter and never mattered, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and as soon as the arcane got its goop on him he just became the most specialest magic pixie dream boy to ever live and his own goals, dreams, ideals, morals, talents, skills, and hard work ceased to matter in any meaningful way. he never had to work to master magic to be able to use it to further his goals, because he immediately stopped having goals.

viktor became a non-character. he became whatever ideological and technological threat level the show needed to challenge to heroes and never more. he ceased to have any control or understanding over what was happening to him, rather he just gave up and decided to use his magic indiscriminately for whoever made the most convincing argument, a choice that would have been completely antithetical to his character up to that point if he'd still been alive. 'fuck zaunites, sure i'll turn them into robots so a foreign power can use them to attack and take over piltover and zaun, who cares. it's not like these are the people i've spent 30 years of my life trying to protect and save.' <- something viktor would never ever ever have agreed to! ever! no matter what! they have played us for absolute fools.

ambiguity, the loss of

the thing i wanted the most and was expecting because of the way viktor's original lore was set up was that the series would end with viktor and jayce unreconciled and with mutually exclusive worldviews, both fully believing they were right and the other was misguided but not evil or irredeemable, setting them up for future conflict. this felt like what was being set up when arcane made it a plot point that jayce was being convinced to turn hextech into weapons while viktor started getting unethical and unhinged with the experimentation. they both had good reasons to do what they did - and i'm absolutely not going to insult jayce's intelligence by claiming he was just manipulated into it by anyone, give me a fucking break - but the point was that both of them were doing something the other thought was misguided and dangerous. and they also felt that if they could just make the other person see their completely logical and rational pov, they could fix the divide between them and make up and be best science buddies again.

but then at the end arcane completely gave up on viktor having any belief in his own ideals. it just turned into 'aw actually he was just lonely all along and none of that science stuff or difference in morals or worldviews mattered bc he's got a buddy now and he's completely unequivocally on jayce's side. :)'

it was like. insanely selfish. as in, self-centered, concerned *only* with the self. the viktor i liked, and the one i wanted to flourish and hoped arcane would canonize, was someone who was entirely dedicated to zaun, to righting the wrongs of piltover and helping the people in the way he thought best - no matter what jayce or piltover thought about it. an ambiguous villain, just like all the other really well-written ones in arcane.

accountability, the loss of

viktor killed people. not sky, who was an accident despite his fixation on her; i'm talking at least a hundred or more zaunites during his stint as the machine herald. he ripped their minds out and made them play house with him, then turned them into weapons of war for ambessa's siege, and all of those people - primarily sick, desperate zaunites - died. this was always the entire crux of the conflict between (league) viktor and jayce giopara. viktor was willing to destroy people and use their bodies for his own gain unapologetically because he thought what he was doing was a blessing and the people were better off under his control because they would never feel fear or anger again. agree, disagree, depends on your view of free will and human nature, but the fact is that everyone who came to viktor hoping for a chance to be healed so they could pursue their own dreams and lives had those dreams and lives ripped away from them and they never got justice or even a single scrap of acknowledgement from the narrative.

in arcane, the horror of viktor's actions just... fade away into the background. viktor and jayce waltz off into magicspace together, leaving viktor's dead, ruined victims for piltover and zaun to deal with. he doesn't return their minds or bodies, he doesn't even seem to remember or care about what he had just been doing to other sentient living human beings. he's not sorry, he doesn't feel regret, he got what he wanted (a friend) and fuck everybody else.

because the narrative just shrugs and handwaves and says no no forget all that it doesn't matter it was just the hexcore or whatever, viktor becomes a flat, uninteresting character. he loses the depth that villains like ambessa and silco had, villains who had their victims validated by the story, who faced challenges in their arcs specifically because of the people they had hurt despite thinking they were doing the right or noble or most important thing. and not just the villains! even the heroes had to wrestle with the people they stepped on on the way to their lofty goals. but not viktor. he just floats away scot free, completely blameless, having no affect on the world and the world having no affect on him.

on arcane's status as the new canon lore and the Implications™

reminder that arcane is somehow supposed to tie into the world of runeterra at large, but now viktor and jayce both have been seemingly entirely removed from it. if it only mattered that they knew the people we'd already seen them interact with, okay, i guess. but that isn't the case. they both have a ton of connections to other champions - from regions other than p&z even - that haven't been introduced and don't have any plausible explanation for how they could have met in the past, which means they should have been set up to meet somehow in the future. implying that jinx escaped and has gone traveling the world is the perfect way to incorporate her in-game relationships with people like lux - she could have met her while traveling! but jayce and viktor don't get that plausible continuation of their story and development of further relationships - they just disappear out of existence. (ambessa also has this problem because they killed her, but unlike jayce and viktor she does have a huge amount of unexplored backstory where she could have spoken to (for example) swain and hwei and shyvanna at some point.)

note 1 - jayce and viktor are so old that they don't have any voice lines in game when meeting other champions. but other champions who are either newer or who have had voiceover updates do talk to them, which is how (aside from the old lore) you can infer that they do have relationships with other champions including ones who weren't in arcane.

note 2 - maybe riot actually doesn't care and none of the champions are really supposed to know each other or be involved in each others' lives canonically, they just have random quippy voice lines that imply that. which would fucking suck. having the lore of the game have no impact on the game itself and vice versa would objectively suck. if the characters talk to each other on the rift and say something interesting, i want that to have meaning. i want to be able to extrapolate the state of the world and the relationships between the characters from the things they verbally say with their mouths. i'm not arguing about this. the voicelines should be seen as the most high irrefutable canon that there is for the game because it is the ONLY source of lore in the game itself.

anyways there's my bible i guess. i miss evil laser robot viktor i want him to perform unethical brain surgery on me (fixing my adhd but also turning me into his personal puppet attack dog) and then give a weapon to a child so they can kill their bullies.

[kingdomaddiction]

I've been thinking in a Cumplane friendship idea.--

You see, everyone seems to believe SQQ and SQH can't stand each other. Quite the opposite, really. When it's only the two of them they don't feel the need to keep up the pretence. It's so easy to relax, to put the mask aside.

They aren't peak lords nor cultivators. They're just two dudes in their mid tweenties trying to survive in this forsaken world.

SY knows he might not be the kindest nor the most loving of friends, (he spent so many years alone in a cold, hospital room, he's not good at socializing) but he does care for Airplane. A lot. He will never say it out loud because it's embarrasing but that stupid author is his best friend.

So, that's why when the news of Qinghua's disappearance finally reach him (two weeks, it took two full weeks before someone decided to tell him--- )they absolutely destroys him.

He seems calm at fisrt. Not truly procesing the news. LBG makes a few comments about something Mobei told him (you fucking knew and didn't tell me, how dare you, husband?! )

Gone, SQH? No, that's dumb. He couldn't be gone. He's a peak lord, he has responsabilities, a bunch of little ones to teach. He even takes care of the north. And most importantly why would he leave Mobei? It makes no sense, not fucking sense.

SQH wouldn't leave like that. He... he wouldn't leave SY behind.

He can feel sob building up in his throat. That... stupid, idiot--HACK AUTHOR!

His crying fit is so strong and sudden that sends LBG and his whole demon staff into a panic.

"Shizun?!" He says looking for visible injuries-

"Don't touch me!" He screams and LBG looks at him with hurt.

"Husband? Have... have this disciple done something wrong?"

SQQ just turns and walks to his chambers ordering LBG not to follow him. His husband is left feeling distressed and cries for very different reasons.

Later that night they talk. SQQ feeling tired and sad finally calls for his husband to comfort him. He explains to him why he is angry at him and LBG apologizes.

"This one thought you hated Shang-shibo and that Shizun wouldn't care about his dissapereance." He says in a small, careful voice. "Mobei jun came to the palace days ago to beg for help in his search... "

"You turned him away... " SY says, sounding very tired.

"Yes. But this husband will make it right, Shizun. I will find your friend for you, promise."

SY sighs and hugs his husband, hiding his face in his chest.

..

Idk 'm all over the place but the idea is that the system is glitching and took SQH and is kind of keeping him hostage? Like, in between worlds. Not the mordern universe, not PIDW.

I imagine LBG having a very hard time accepting his shizun worries and loves others and not just him (??? why??? I'm more than enough you need NO ONE else shizun). He's too possesive and would like very much just to lock his shizun away, but that would break him and he never wants to see him cry like that ever again. Even if that means he has to share his attention.

MBJ is very broken in this one fiding himself lost without SQH. they had just finally stablished their relationship so he's between angry and scared. Also his trust and loyalty to LBG has taken a blown since he refused to help him find his lover. Didn't he help LBG when everyone turned his back on him as he clinged to his dead shizun's body?

While they work together (before they can even figure out where sqh is) LBG slowly realizes he might have fucked up a bit and ??? misses Mobei ??? are they friends???!!

SY tries his fucking best to keep it together. Really, he loves Binghe but that man can be so dense.

They find where SQH is being kept. The place is like a limbo. Cold, and vast where no time passes. In order to get him back LBG, MBJ and SQQ work together to reforge Xin Mo and travel there. There's a cool fighting montage, tears, hugs and everyone is happy at the end

Yeah that's all i got so far. I'll be going back to work now--

[sp4ceboo]

CHAPTER 6 ~ CALM BEFORE THE STORM

beneath a crimson sky masterlist | ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5 | ch 6

pairing: stray kids ot8 x afab!reader

genre: apocalypse au, dystopian, dark, adventure, action, thriller, fighting, eventual smut, romance

a/n: apologies for the sparse updates i swear i'm still alive, icl i have beef with this chapter in terms of characterisations but the next chapter is my lil baby so yall can look forward to that

chapter warnings: large amounts of crying, swearing, panic attacks, mentions of mind control, for some reason i really like The Hello Kitty Blanket, not much else but i probably forgot at least 1 thing

chapter word count: 3.6k

When you wake, you are lucid. Too lucid, it seems, because you recall your dreams with such clarity that you throw up, emptying the meagre contents of your churning stomach into a bucket someone had handily placed by your side. You do not want to believe what you’ve seen, so you chalk it down to the fever.

It’s early in the morning, and Jisung lies propped up against the wall beside the makeshift bed the boys must have made you, heavily asleep, a half full bottle of water held loosely in his hands. You manage to heave yourself upright, and it’s only then that you notice the rope tied loosely around your wrists and ankles, tied to the foot of the centrifuge and tethering you down.

Your stomach twists. Felix. You hurt Felix.

And yet, Jisung snores peacefully beside you. There is a calm in his slumbering face, a tranquility. He feels safe to sleep beside you, and no one has deigned to disturb him from his position - then, they don’t blame you, nor do they fear you.

Hesitantly, almost expecting your body to disobey your orders, you reach out and pluck the bottle from his grasp, taking careful sips until it’s finished. With a glance behind you, you notice Jeongin has sat up, rubbing his eyes, and that Chan is making his way towards you. He looks a little paler than before, and the semicircles beneath his eyes are darker.

You cannot imagine for the life of you why they have stayed and looked after you.

Unbidden, a smile finds its way onto your face as he approaches, and it widens when he returns it, his dimples appearing in his cheeks. Relief is clear on him, in the slight sag of his shoulders and release of tension in his brow, as if a heavy load has been lifted from him.

“Hey,” he whispers, crouching beside you, eyes bright and hope filled as he unties you. “I knew you would make it.”

“Chan,” you say, and suddenly your voice and smile are wobbly.

You reach out your hand, simply intending to grab ahold of his hoodie and remind yourself that you’re fine now, that they didn’t leave you even though they should have, but he goes one step further and engulfs you in his arms. Breath shaky, you close your eyes, holding onto him as tightly as you can.

Chan is warm and solid, and he smells ridiculously like clean laundry despite the fact that none of you have gone near a washing machine in weeks. It feels as if he is keeping you whole, as if you might crumble apart if he lets go. You squeeze your eyes shut and breathe him in.

You’re able to find your voice once your face is hidden in the safety of his shoulder. “Did I hurt anyone?”

“No,” he says, and you can’t tell if he’s lying or not. “You were pretty weak when that stage set in.”

You nod, trying to find words. “How - how long was I out?”

“Just under a week.”

Your jaw drops. “A week?”

“Yeah,” he says. “The next ship hasn’t landed yet. We met three guys looking for the rest of their group. The leader - his name was Hongjoong - has dubbed it the Reprieve. I just think it’s the calm before the storm.”

You blink. “You talked to someone? Were any of them sick?”

Getting to his feet, Chan shakes his head. “I don’t think anyone has been since the first horseman’s ship took off.”

Grabbing his hand, you stop him. “Thank you, Chan. You - you didn’t have to put yourself or the boys in danger for me, but you did, anyway.”

“I did what I’d do if it happened to any of us,” he says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world to him.

You’re about to reply, but you’re cut off by a drawn out gurgle from your stomach. Chan chuckles, his dimples appearing again. He is so bright, so clear, that it is hard to believe the shadows could even survive while he was there.

“I’ll get you some food in a second,” he grins. “Minho, Changbin, Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin and I are going out on a supply run. We don’t know how long the Reprieve will last so we’re going to try and stock up as much as possible in case we need to hole up when the second horseman comes.”

Briefly, you consider volunteering yourself too, but although you feel healed, you’ve been out for the last week and you need to rest. No doubt Chan would refuse to let you come along, anyway - he hands you a can of pasta shapes drowning in synthetic tasting tomato sauce, and you scarf it down while the lab begins to fill with life as the others wake up.

Felix bounds over and hugs you, followed closely by Hyunjin. You scan the former’s face for any signs of fear or hurt, but he beams at you, and your soul feels a warmth it hasn’t in a long time. There’s a beauty in his smile that is so hard to come by, now.

All of the boys greet you once they’ve woken up, even Minho, who kind of just stares at you like he can’t believe you’re alive. You don’t blame him. Hope is rising in your chest, the same way it shines in Jisung’s eyes when he jerks awake to see you conscious and radiates from Jeongin’s smile, because despite it all, you survived Pestilence, and if you survived the first horseman, maybe there’s a chance you’ll all be able to live through the next ones.

The hope rises so high that you dismiss your fever dreams. It lingers, wonderfully so, and rests on you, Hyunjin and Jisung after the others go out on the supply run, filling the three of you with bubbling laughter as the hours pass.

And then, abruptly, it falls short.

The sun is setting, painting the already red sky redder, and the others do not return. They do not come bustling through the door, laden with plastic bags full of supplies. Their voices do not echo down the street as they make their way back to the lab.

There are plenty of reasons they could have been delayed. They could be lost, or maybe they met that guy called Hongjoong again, yet you can’t help but feel the sinking feeling of despair re-enter your chest, when before you’d been so light and happy and hopeful. Hyunjin stares down at his lap and picks nervously at his cuticles. You glare worriedly out the window, tapping your foot on the floor.

Jisung begins to hyperventilate.

Immediately, you scoot over until you sit on the floor beside him. He’s rocking back and forth, his hands clenched into fists so hard that you know his nails must be digging painfully into his skin. His worry is contagious, settling in your bones and creeping into the back of your mind, armed with doubt.

Hyunjin is frozen where he is sat, and for a terrible, mind numbing moment, you feel painfully out of your depth - you know you could fight to protect him, but this is not something you know how to deal with. Minho or Chan would know what to do, not you.

Still, you prise his hands open so you can hold them. Positioning yourself so he can feel the press of your front against his back, you grip him tight enough for him to stop rocking. You tell yourself that the others will come back, repeating those words like a mantra, and even though you cannot fully deceive yourself, it steadies you nonetheless.

“Breathe with me,” you command, in a voice that leaves no room for arguing - a voice that sounds just like Chan’s.

Jisung’s breathing stutters, his chest heaving with the effort of it, but he fights to obey you, and you hold him close to you, grounding him even when his grasp on your fingers begins to sting with how hard he squeezes them. His trembling begins to ease up, and you loosen your arms on him, but he grips onto your wrist, keeping you wrapped around him. Carefully, you stroke his hair, keeping your breathing slow and deliberate.

“I’m here,” you soothe. “Jinnie’s here as well, okay?”

He twists in your arms so he can face you. Tears have tracked down his cheeks, and you wipe them away with your thumbs, a tight ache developing in your chest when his face crumples and he hides himself in your embrace again. Hyunjin shuffles over, resting his head on your shoulder and stroking a hand down Jisung’s back. You realise he’s shaking too.

“What if the next wave starts and they’re out there?” Jisung asks quietly.

“We’d have seen the ship coming down,” you tell them firmly, pushing back flashes of your dreams that crowd your head. “It’s not over yet.”

Hyunjin nods against your shoulder, a little sniffle escaping him. You wrap an arm around his shoulder and bring him a little closer, resting your chin on his head. The three of you stay like that for a while, tangled together as you listen to the sound of your heartbeats; there is a tension filling the lab not unlike the tightness in the air before rainfall, and you attempt to tamp down your worries, keeping them to yourself when the sky becomes the darker than the deepest of red wines and stars begin to wink to life.

This is the calm before the storm. You’re just afraid that your own, more personal storm might have arrived before the big one.

“I hate them,” Jisung announces after a while, and his arms tighten around you.

“The aliens?” You ask.

He nods. “I don’t care if they hear. I hope they hear - I hope they know I hate them for what they’ve taken from us.”

He has raised his head from where it was resting on your shoulder, and there is a fire in his eyes that you have not seen before, paired with pain woven through with a bitter sort of determination - the type derived from spite, the dogged tenacity to survive. A lump grows in your throat. You pull him close again, burying your face in his hair so he and Hyunjin don’t see the tears welling at your lash line.

You hate the aliens too. You hate them for their fucking games and stupid horsemen, you hate the way they’ve invaded your sky, you hate that they have broken millions of hearts and torn families apart. And now, if the others don’t come back, another family will have been lost.

The waiting makes you feel helpless. Restless, you pace circles in your mind, wondering whether you should go out and search for them, but that would leave Jisung and Hyunjin alone, and the next horseman could arrive at any time. You want something to do, something to put your mind off the worry, but there is nothing. All you can do is pull the two of them closer to you and soothe them with hollow words.

You’re about to suggest trying to eat something when the sound of footsteps approaches. You’re all on your feet in seconds, hurtling to the door, and before you can think to caution him, Hyunjin has shoved it open and looks out with wild hope bright in his eyes.

It’s dark outside. You can see silhouettes making their way towards you, their heads bowed tiredly, and though you can’t see their faces, you know for sure now - it’s not over yet. It won’t ever be over, as long as you’re all together and breathing.

Jisung sprints out into the street and hurls himself right into Minho’s arms.

You slump against the doorframe, relief swamping any anger you felt at them for coming back so late. Minho has dropped his bags and is gripping Jisung tight, his nose buried in the younger man’s hair, eyes squeezed closed - the sight is poignant enough to make your vision blur with unshed tears, vanquishing the tension that had been pervading your body for the last few hours. You step into Felix’s arms, your knees feeling as if they may give out any second.

“What happened?” You breathe out, sheltering in his embrace.

“There were dogs,” he replies, patting your back soothingly. “We were stuck balancing on top of a food shelving unit until they got bored and left. I’m sorry, we came back as fast as we could.”

You almost find it in you to laugh. All that worry, while the boys were camped out on the top shelf, waiting for animals that used to be beloved pets to lose interest in them. It feels as if you should take it as a warning, a reminder that you should take nothing for granted, but it fills you with a vicious triumph instead - they came back, and that’s what matters.

You squeeze him hard enough that he squeaks. “Don’t be sorry. Just, I was - we were scared. Shitless. Don’t ever do that again, you fucker.”

He laughs, and suddenly, with that bright sound ringing sweetly through the air, everything is alright again.

Everything continues to be alright until, a few hours later, you all decide to sleep, and though you are not alone as you once were, the dreams still come.

Snatches of laughter echo in your ears. Grasping, shadowy fingers tear at your hair and clothes. A blonde woman and a bronze skinned man, reduced to nothing but puppets, command swathes and swathes of survivors.

Reaping more than should ever be taken, great slaughter and boundless hunger ravages the land. There is only endless falling, like you are trapped in the vast pull of a black hole.

Eventually, you wrest yourself from the visions' claws.

Panting, sweat breaking out all over your skin in sharp prickles, you sit up, kicking the blanket off you. You pause for a moment, listening. Tonight is a rare night where Chan is actually asleep - his breathing is deeper and far slower than it is when he lies with his eyes closed, pretending. He is still next to you, frighteningly so, and you wish you could not so easily imagine him lifeless beside you.

Moonlight bleeds from the crack in the blinds, alighting on Hyunjin’s shoulders and spilling from them like a crimson cloak. His head is bent towards someone else, a slighter figure, with light hair, blonde hair -

She’s here.

And then you realise that the blonde is slightly grown out, that it’s far too glossy and a little too short to be hers. You deflate in relief. It’s just Felix. When he turns his face towards you, you see his sweet eyes and his freckles, and wonder how you could have ever seen his hair and mistaken him for her, even in the near darkness and from across the room.

Felix smiles and beckons you over, and you get up, keeping your footsteps quiet. The two of them have tucked the Hello Kitty blanket around them - a glance over your shoulder reveals that Changbin is now sharing Seungmin’s blanket, tucking himself tight against the younger man’s back, even in sleep. Hyunjin opens the blanket on his side, and you gratefully wedge yourself in.

The lab air is cold and a little biting, as if there aren’t solid walls separating you from outside, but you feel warmed by their actions, by the openness blooming so plainly on both their faces that it makes your heart ache.

“Nightmares?” Felix asks.

Mutely, you nod.

“Do you want to talk about yours?” Hyunjin asks. “Sometimes it helps.”

You blanch. Telling them of your fever dreams feels like speaking truth into them, like giving them the power to become real. There’s a chance that they’re just the substance of your terrified mind, but they have a strange quality to them, like the humming, disastrous tone of a prophecy. Not telling them could be withholding information that might be valuable.

“I had these visions when I was ill,” you blurt, then quieten your voice. “I don’t know if they were visions or dreams. Either way, they showed the next three horsemen.”

Hyunjin sucks in a sharp breath, stiffening beside you. Although he doesn’t say anything, Felix reaches out and squeezes your hand, and you cling to him like he’s your anchor, willing yourself to continue. It is harder than expected to describe what you saw - the images flash before your eyes, the scents and the sounds right in your head, and yet your tongue is stiff in your mouth with fear and dread.

“The one coming now is War. He…” You struggle with your words, wondering how many details are needed. “I think he possessed these two people. They’re supposed to be generals of some sort, maybe. Once he looked at them, they were his.”

Hyunjin curses under his breath. A rustle sounds nearby, like the sound of someone rolling over, and you glance up, aware that your voice had risen and taken on a panicked edge near the end of your sentence. Jeongin is stirring, but soon he relaxes, and you twist the blanket in your fingers, worrying at a loose thread.

“Keep going,” Felix urges.

“The third one is Famine. She was terrible, but beautiful too,” you murmur, unable to meet their eyes. “This one was hazier. I just remember the hunger, so strong that I would have done anything to destroy it. It felt like my body was changing, too, but I think that part was symbolic of something. Like the weighing scales she had.”

“Symbolic, like of the monsters humanity is becoming?” Hyunjin says, the horror clear in his voice.

Swallowing harshly, you press on. “The last was Death. There are blurry parts, parts I can't focus on, like what he said to me, but I remember other bits. Falling. What he looked like. I was - ” Your voice cracks. “ - terrified. That’s the clearest bit. The fear. I was helpless.”

Felix squeezes your hand. “We’ll - we’ll make it through. We’ll survive them.”

You can’t fathom how strong he must be to say that.

“Please don’t tell the others,” you whisper. “In case it’s not true, and it was all just some crazy fever dream. I - I don’t want to scare them. Chan will worry.”

“I agree,” Felix replies. “We don’t know if it’s real.” He squeezes your hand again. “Thank you for telling us.”

“Thank you for listening,” you mumble.

What you really mean is: thank you for staying, thank you for looking after me while I was under Pestilence’s hold, while I went crazy and could have killed or hurt you all. They are insane, for risking their own lives for you, merciful where the end of the world should have hardened their hearts.

Hyunjin is silent. You are too afraid to glance over and look him in the eyes, for fear that you will be condemned by what you will see in them. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, just huddles under the blanket with the rest of you, and you wonder if he hates you for being the bearer of news that could be the death of every person in this room.

You wouldn’t be surprised if that is the case, yet when he finally turns to you, he hugs you tight - tight enough to squeeze all the air out of your lungs, yet it doesn’t suffocate you. It feels like he’s holding you together, just like it did with Chan.

You allow a few of your tears to soak into his shirt before you pull yourself together.

When you raise your head, you realise Hyunjin is crying too, and yet the tears streaking down his cheeks look like war paint. He looks strong, like a warrior prince, and fearsome. Though he weeps, it is the farthest thing from a weakness.

And then he yawns, rubs at his face, and he is just sleepy, Hello-Kitty-blanket-around-his-shoulders Hyunjin again. Still, you see the remnants of that magnificence, and you know that although it has receded, it is as much a part of him as the tired but brave smile he sends you when he catches you looking.

“Shall we go back to sleep?” Felix asks.

You nod, and Hyunjin stands, wiping his eyes and holding the blanket around his neck like a cape. A smile tugs at your lips, and he grins down at you, doing a little twirl - the soft fabric flares out at the bottom, and you duck to avoid getting smacked in the face by it, opening your mouth to tell him that he looks like some sort of Sanrio monarch.

A keen whine splits the air like a guillotine.

The colour drains from Felix’s face, and his eyes dart immediately to the window. Hyunjin freezes. Suddenly, Jeongin is up, and he rolls right out from under the blankets and onto his feet, crossing the room to the window so he can yank the blind open. Baffled, you follow his gaze, and your heart sinks.

It’s a ship. The next horseman is coming.

You haven’t heard the sound of one of their ships before - you’d been delirious - but there’s no doubt left in your mind as one of the dark specks in the sky detaches from the others and arcs towards the ground like a falling star.

The Reprieve is over.

taglist: @estella-novella @0bticeo @lixies-favorite-cookie @smashleywow @realrintaro @extremechaoswarning @4l17h4 @hyunjinsjeans @insufferablyunbearable @lovemepie67 @needsumcomfypillowstosleep @loumin908 @rxlvvrz @iris-iiridescent @brbwritingfanfic @missseoulite @juliettejwnewinesa (let me know if you want to be added)

[eldritch-spouse]

I'd like to send a formal apology to Morell, Obie and Zizz for how quickly and effortlessly Tristalis was able to steal their spots in my heart.

Like low-key, Tristalis sounds like the best choice out of all your characters regarding like romantic situations. It could be because we haven't been exposed to his darker traits, but it just seems so far like he's just so sweet but confused regarding like human customs. I just want to cuddle up with him and smother all three of his heads with love and affection.

and the fact that he makes stuffed animals? My biggest comfort item and like just a big love language of mine? As soon as he gives me that stuffed animal on that bus I'm here blushing and crushing immediately.

How would Tristalis react to a romantic interest who gets all giddy and flustered when he gifted them the stuffed animal. Like they're immediately smiling all wide and hugging the stuffed animal to their chest? Just absolutely fawning over it, even tho he can't understand anything they're saying he can practically see the hearts in their eyes.

He's my husband now, he's got no choice- he's gonna be walking down the aisle in a wedding dress by next week. >:(

[Imagine getting mogged by Tristalis rsrsrs. He can be decidedly scary, but he's more permissive than a few of the monsters here.]

Tristalis has had positive reactions to people who see his plushies. Many have come up to him to buy them without the monster even having to do much of anything except rearrange them in public. He's flexible with prices, but not someone who can be scammed easily- Because, even if he's not well-versed in surface customs, he knows the basics of plenty of currencies. Sometimes a child will try to trade a plush for something rather inadequate, and if Tristalis is in a good mood, he'll just give a plush away for a bag of candies.

The only adult Tristalis has ever given plushies to is you. And Lords, does your reaction have him glowing.

He'd been scheming which one you might like best, mostly based on what you were wearing or the color of your eyes and hair. To know that he hit the nail right on the head has him sighing audibly. The Starbeast may not be fluent in your language, but the beam of your smile and the shine of your eyes is all the answer he needs to clap to himself in happiness.

The problem here is that Tristalis is excitable.

He sees you hugging the stuffed plush to yourself and suddenly wants to ramble, mixing words up in an attempt to talk, to let you know more about his crafts.

At some point he just gives up on words altogether, all three heads bobbing occasionally with glee as he shows you other plushies, gives you skeins of yarn to feel and even requests your opinion on possible designs he poorly sketched (drawing is not in his deck of skills, for sure).

Depending on how receptive you are to Tristalis' attention, he may get immediately sidetracked and just follow you around like a lovesick puppy. He can even make smaller things if it guarantees you'll look at him with the same amount of awe you did before.

[yellowhollyhock]

you know the hardest thing about 07 fanfic is getting around the gaping plot hole of 'your training ended a year ago and Master Splinter says you've stopped writing'

Like? What am I supposed to believe here? That Leo's gone for an extra year (twice as long as he's supposed to be gone), nobody goes looking for him, he stops writing, and nobody's reaction is 'Leo is either in serious danger or dead?' Everybody assumes he just decided not to come home?? And they're right???? Like we don't see much of Leo's personality but from what we do see, a year is a long time to just not write and not let anyone know he was gonna be late

That just doesn't. Make any sense.

So here's me trying to make sense of it

When Leo first left, Raph became the Nightwatcher (as per prequel comics). Mikey starts his Cowabunga Carl thing, with Donnie's help, and enjoys it a lot for a while. It's the only time he's getting out after all. Other than training, which is not going well without Leo. Donnie's not a very firm leader, barely wants to be doing it himself. Raph is checked out and short-fused. Master Splinter tries to intervene but that largely looks like scolding and isn't much help at all.

Mikey knows Raph is the Nightwatcher. In the beginning Donnie thought he must not be, because of an instance here or there where he was too harsh, too reckless, couldn't be their brother, he would never do that. Mikey responded by pointing out the good things and arguing over the debatable things and reminding Donnie of the trouble Raph can get himself into when he's fixed on a goal or acts from a place of anger. Donnie sees the schedules continue to line up and has to concede, but that leads to the question: what is Raph so angry about? And while they haven't come up with an answer, privately Donnie assumes it's at him (for not being the kind of leader Leo was).

Four months after Leo leaves, they're still training every morning and going out occasionally. Six months in, they still train most days. Master Splinter has asked them not to go out together because of how they treat each other during training. Mikey likes his job less and also clings to it more as it becomes the only way he's ever getting out. By the time Leo should be home in a month, while each of them still practice, training together is rare.

That's when they get a letter from Leo that he might be late, and isn't sure how late.

So he's a week late. Donnie is researching every boat and airplane that left from Japan (last known general location) trying to guess what's likely to have caused the delay and extrapolate where Leo might currently be.

Two weeks late. Mikey is planning such a big homecoming party that increases in intensity with every night Leo's not there. It might be tonight, we have to be ready. He's not taking gigs and Donnie's getting stressed about money.

Raph is being the Nightwatcher and only sees his brothers for a brief time in the evenings--and lately those evening have been all about Leo. He's watching them both worry themselves sick. He'd actually allowed himself to be excited for Leo to come home, imagined they could have a good time together if he had a chance to pull him aside and talk to him about the thing he hasn't talked to anyone about: Merryweather's death. It's his big brother he wants to tell and he can't explain the Nightwatcher to his family until he's had that conversation with Leo. They fought about it before Leo left and he needs him to understand.

But now he's getting angry. Where is he? Donnie expresses concern that Something Happened; Master Splinter insists they must stay calm and not give up hope.

Three weeks late. Donnie is now insisting Mikey get focused back on work. At this point Donnie is still being Mikey's driver, in the headset and on standby every time Mikey goes out. Mikey wants him to back off (I can do this myself) so that at least someone will be home to greet Leo since Mikey might not be (your fault for making me go to work). Donnie is really hurt by the implied 'don't need you anymore' and feels guilty (which somebody really should) that Mikey's the breadwinner for the whole family. Even more guilty now that he thinks his help was more for his pride than because Mikey ever needed him.

Then a letter from Leo. Sorry for not contacting you sooner, I'm safe and well, hope I didn't worry you. I'll be at least another month. Much shorter than his letters used to be; they're more worried than ever. And this time the return address is way off course from what they thought was his path home. What's going on?

Mikey wants to write to him. Everyone else points out they don't know where to send the letters. Donnie is back to obsessing over maps, train schedules, weather patterns, anything that might hint at an explanation. Between their jobs and worrying about Leo, Raph doesn't understand how either of his brothers can still stand upright.

He becomes more aggressive out in the streets. He's worried and confused and pretty steamed at Leo for giving them nothing to go by. And even more angry at who or what could have hurt him badly enough that he doesn't want to tell his family what's going on. He's quicker to hit and more hasty to decide who the bad guy is.

Donnie and Mikey see the change. Donnie starts openly criticizing the Nightwatcher every chance he gets (trying to get Raph to fess up or better yet stay home or at the very least see that he's going too far sometimes and needs to take a break). Mikey responds by doubling down on his defense and praise for the Nightwatcher (also wants Raph to confess and knows he won't when Don's talking like that, wildly hoping to be invited along, wanting to keep Raph safe but also eager himself to have a space to let out his own building anger).

And what's Mikey angry at? The fact that Master Splinter hasn't done anything. He's satisfied with Leo's explanation. Doesn't seem concerned, like Raph and Donnie are, that something went wrong. Master Splinter replies that the Ninja Tribunal is wise and at times unpredictable. They may have thought it right to extend Leonardo's training. Donnie points out that the return address for Leo's recent letters are not in Japan; did the Tribunal travel with him? Master Splinter doesn't have an answer and still insists on remaining calm and hopeful.

Now it's been two months, one week past the second time Leo was supposed to be home. Mikey plans a party again, this time with much less support from his frazzled, sleep-deprived brothers who are trying not to get their hopes up. Raph tries to keep Mikey from getting his hopes up either. That doesn't go over well.

After three months, they get another letter, another apology with no explanation, this time saying he has no idea when he'll come home, but don't worry, he's coming.

Raph has been seeing night after night what the world can be like. He's convinced something unspeakable happened or will happen to Leo, but he can't tell anyone that. He wants to go after him, but how is he supposed to find him? The best he can do for Leo is the same he did for Merryweather: be the hero they can't be anymore. Make people who are careless with others' lives Pay. And somehow he has to keep it from his family that he thinks Leo's gone gone, or might be soon; they couldn't take it. They don't know the world like he does. He can protect them from this, for a while.

Donnie thinks Leo must need help, and that's driving him crazy because he doesn't know how to reach him. But he's going to find a way. He starts planning and saving up for parts to build his mutant finding matrix thingy. After their argument he doesn't want to ask for Mikey's help paying, and it wouldn't be right since he's been really trying to let him be more independent. He finds a job. Mikey seems bothered, they talk and work out a better working relationship that allows Mikey more independence and pays each of them separately (Mikey of course making more because he's doing more). Now with the call line job supplementing that he's able to ease the burden on Mikey and April of providing for the family (he knows Casey's been worried about the kind of work April's been taking) and he can buy the parts he needs to find Leo, go after him and bring him home. He's going to fix this for everybody.

Six months after the first time Leo was supposed to come home, Mikey finally gives up hope. He's been secretly sending letters to different places he thinks Leo might be. He stops. He's hidden nightmares about what could happen to Leo for months. He stops asking for Raph or Donnie to go skateboarding with him, stops insisting on family nights every Saturday. He gets closer to Splinter, who he's seen a change in and knows, in spite of continued insistence to stay calm and not give up hope, Master Splinter gave up a while ago. Donnie says he's just getting old (he's been very worried about his health and is becoming more micromanager about it every day), but Mikey knows it's more than that. He sees the depression Splinter is hiding. Splinter doesn't notice the same in him.

Around that time, they finally get one more letter. Leo says that he's not going to be in a place where he can get paper or postage, so they also won't be hearing from him. He doesn't say anything about coming home.

Raph had thought Leo was dead; the letter makes him furious (he's been mourning in secret for nothing? Is Leo even in trouble or just decided not to come back?). Donnie is thrilled by it; not being able to send a letter actually might help him narrow down where Leo is, and they have a more recent return address now. He's about ready to pack up and go get him, something he assumes Raph will be on board with.

Well, Raph can't leave, and he can't tell his family why (they know why). He and Donnie have a screaming match. Raph wants to know how this return address is any different from the letters before, and why they didn't go then. Donnie brings up Raph not seeing Leo off at the airport when he first left. Raph asks if Donnie's even been training. Mikey suspects it got physical, but if it did they both hide the bruises well and they're not saying a thing.

Raph starts going straight to his room when he gets back in the early morning, and staying in his room until he can hear that the rest of them have gone to bed. Once in a while he'll come out to argue if he overhears something that sets him off.

Mikey would go with Donnie to get Leo, but Donnie says Raph's right, he'll have moved on by the time they get there, it's the same as every other return address. He just needs more time to figure out where Leo actually is.

Mikey is starting to think they've run out of time, but just like Raph, he doesn't want to say that.

Batnapping happens like eight months in. Master Splinter is deeply bothered by it, gets stricter, asks his sons not to go out until Leo gets home. Raph has to get sneakier. Mikey had to negotiate to keep his job (Donnie helps). At this point Donnie is the only one who almost never leaves the sewers; April tries to get him to her place as often as possible, usually finding that asking for help is most effective.

And that's how they all live for fourish months before Leo finally (unexpectedly) returns.

[aek1ra]

Paris | Mark Lee

Pairing boyfriend!mark x fem!reader

Summary: Your boyfriend, Mark, gets the offer of a lifetime but it means moving to Paris. Is this the start of a new future in a new city or where a great romance goes to die in the city of love.

Genre: angst, no warnings I think. Giselle and the rest of the æspa members play a small role.

Word count: 2,458

All stories are the property of © aek1ra, please do not copy, repost or translate without my permission. Thank you for your cooperation.

Friday

“I can’t stay here and be single for you, you’re my best friend why can’t you just be happy for me” you whisper shout at her in the middle of the crowded streets of Manhattan. “I am happy for you, I just don’t want you to regret this decision in the future-” she takes a deep breath and continues “look all I’m saying is that you’ve given up a lot for this relationship and this is one more thing he’s asking you to give up. Moving to Paris isn’t your dream y/n you’re chasing after him.” 

You heard her loud and clear, in fact you knew exactly what she was talking about. As much as you hate to admit you had been thinking the same thing for weeks now but how could you let him go. He was the missing puzzle piece, no he was the image you’re left with after the puzzle is completed. You had everything a girl in her mid twenties could ask for, the apartment in your dream city, the expensive shoes, the dream job and the dream boy. or at least you thought. No, you did and besides you’re not giving up your dream you’re simply moving it across an ocean. Yes, they have nice apartments in Paris, expensive shoes and people read magazines everywhere. It would take some time to find a job and some friends but once you got settled things would be the same, right? 

“I heard you, now let's drop this conversation I already quit my job and besides we leave tomorrow” you retort, taking a sip of your coffee hoping the warm beverage will help the lies come out smoother. She doesn’t say anything for a moment in fact you forget she’s even there. 1 beat 2 beats. “You weren’t even going to say goodbye to us? You can quit your job, throw away your shoes, hell even your hopes and dreams for some boy, but are we, am I that disposable to you.” pause “Actually you know what never mind, forget I said anything. Have a nice life y/n” 

3 beats, 4 beats. And with that you were left in the silence again except this time she really was gone. 

You walk into your shared apartment anxiously toying with your keys, the previous conversation replaying in your mind. 

“Baby your home, can you help me with the-” he stops mid-sentence seeing the tears well up in your eyes. 

“Hey what’s wrong? Things didn’t go well with Aeri, I take it?” you nod finally letting the tears you’d been holding all night cascade down your face. Mark is quick to pull into his chest, one arm around your waist pulling you in close, rubbing circles on your back. “She hates me. I don’t know why she can’t see things from my point of view. Everyone but her is happy for us, she’s my best friend and her opinion means the world to me. I mean she was my best friend.” you say in between sobs. 

He continues to listen as you drone on about her not understanding your feelings under the soft glow of the fluorescent lights. 

You were going to tell them, you did plan on saying goodbye but everything happened so fast. Mark had gotten offered the deal of a lifetime last week and asked you to move with him. Although it was sudden you couldn’t imagine your life without him. And with the long list of things you had to get done before the move like; putting the apartment up for sale, handing in your notice at work, packing, passports, visas,  you simply forgot to deliver the good news to your family and friends. 

When you called your parents this morning they expressed their excitement seeing you going on this adventure, truthfully they were just happy you’re happy, they know just how much you and Mark love each other. The other girls, Jimin, Minjeong and Yizhuo were all happy for you even if you knew deep down they had the same reservations as Aeri. She was the only person who didn’t seem to understand, or the only one not cowardly enough to say it out loud. She’ll come around eventually, right? 

After 15 minutes of effectively soaking your boyfriend's t-shirt he breaks the silence “come on” he starts as he cups your face softly in his hands wiping the last of the tears away, “let's get you to bed, we still have a few things to do before our flight tomorrow”. And with that you let him lead you to the bedroom thoughts of your friendship pushed to the back of your mind as the excitement and slight anxiety takes over. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sunday morning, First day in Paris

Before you knew it you were in Paris, standing in the lobby of the infamous Ritz Carlton. The company had booked a 5 night stay for you both while the deal was being finalised. Mark went off to get your room key while you stood admiring the crystal chandelier hanging above you. It was mesmerising, dazzling, the main star, the sun, the other lights danced around. He was standing at the front desk a few steps away, the lights above him creating a spotlight on him. There he was, your crystal chandelier, your sun and you were his earth quietly, forever orbiting around him. 

“Hey” his voice snaps you out of your haze, “let’s head up stairs yeah” he takes your hand in his, the sound of hurried footsteps and soft giggles are all that's left as you both disappear into the elevator.

Ding!

You come to a stop on the top floor, the Imperial suite. The view up here was stunning. Breathtaking. You felt like the luckiest girl in the world, every morning you would be waking up to two of the most beautiful views, the Eiffel tower and your boyfriend. 

Thump. There it was, that feeling again, you had been feeling this pang in your heart, a sort of longing like something was missing. If you were being honest you had been feeling this since your talk with Aeri yesterday, more specifically after she left standing alone outside your apartment. 

The faint sound of a phone ringing pulls you out of your thoughts, you watch your boyfriend talk to someone on the phone, probably his manager. 

 “Right now?”

“No, that's fine I’ll be there. Can you give me 20 minutes? I'll shower and meet you at the studio.” he hangs up the phone making his way towards you. He stands in front of you staring in your eyes, “I’m so sorry I know we said we would spend the day together before I got too busy. But I promise you I’ll be back before 7, we’re still on for dinner right beautiful?” 

Mhm. You hum in response planting a quick peck on his lips “don’t worry about me I’ll go shopping for our date tonight.” 

To be quite honest you were upset it hadn’t even been 24 hours and he was already too busy for you. Who were you kidding, did you really think it would be different, Manhattan to Paris the only change was your address. Maybe he just had no more room in his life for you. No, it sounded urgent, probably something with the contract, a typo or something. You’re a big girl, you can spend the day alone in the hotel room, or better yet go out and buy yourself a new dress for dinner tonight. 

“Besides I think I’ll go out and check out the stores around the area” he gives you one last squeeze before letting go and making his way into the shower. 

Tshhh

The sound of the shower water interrupts the quiet of the room, wishing the water could just wash away all your worries.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Saturday night  

Standing in front of the mirror admiring yourself in the strapless Versace dress you purchased earlier on. The sneaking suspicion that Mark wasn’t going to make it home starts to creep up on you. He was always doing that, making plans with you and cancelling at the last minute, sometimes not even showing up and forgetting to call. You know how important his work is to him and how crazy his schedule can get sometimes. At the start of your relationship he made a point to always let you know if he was going to be late, sending flowers on the days he misses a date. But as time went on the flowers and calls started to slow down eventually coming to a stop. I mean you knew he didn’t mean to, you didn’t need gifts to know that he never meant to forget you, he never meant to keep you waiting. 

The clock finally strikes seven and you’re sitting on the small couch at the end of the hallway, opposite the front door. Dazedly staring at the front door willing it to open, like a puppy waiting for its owner to return. Seven o’clock becomes eight, eight becomes nine, eventually it's Ten and you tire of waiting around so you decide to head to bed. 

It’s a quarter to Midnight when Mark returns, you spent the past thirty minutes tossing and turning, head full of questions, where could he be, was he alone, was he even thinking about you. He walks into the room, no he stumbles in knocking over a few perfume bottles that were on the dresser. You feign sleep, you're suddenly hit with the smell of alcohol. The bed dips next to you and soon enough you feel this lips on your cheeks, a quick bittersweet lingering kiss. The smell of alcohol is so overpowering you start to get dizzy. You feel a new emotion, not hurt, not disappointment, not hurt, but for the first time ever you were angry at him. While you were worried sick that he could’ve been somewhere out there lost in this foreign country where neither of you speak the language, or worse out dead in a ditch somewhere he was out drinking. Mark could be careless, inattentive, forgetful whatever you want to call it but never was he stupid. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Monday morning 

The sun rose at 7 this morning, you hadn’t slept at all last night, thoughts of what your future would look like if you decided to live here with him. Mark starts to stir in his sleep, finally waking up. He wraps his  arms around your waist, pulling you towards his chest murmuring a quick  “good morning beautiful”. When you don’t respond he shifts slightly, lifting his head off the bed to get a good look at your face. 

“Baby, hey I’m sorry time just got away from me-” he starts, but you think it's pointless listening to the same speech you’ve heard all these nights before. Mark was the best boyfriend a girl could ask for, that is when he’s not too consumed by his work. You see for him everything else would always come second to his love for music, and maybe one day you would be strong enough to handle that truth. 

“Don’t worry about it. I forgot myself” you interrupt him before he can finish, “You have to get going, you’re going to be late for your important meeting.” you say albeit a bit too venomously for your liking, quickly sliding out of the bed and opting to sit by the window. 

“y/n” he starts but decides against it, instead deciding to give you your space. 

At 8:30am you hear the door to your room close signalling Mark has left for the day. You guys barely spoke to each other at breakfast, a silent dance of tension. Every few minutes you’d shoot him a soft smile in an attempt to show him you’re not mad, or in an attempt to lie to yourself. 

You had planned on going to see the cute cafes today while Mark was at his meeting, but after the events of last night you decide to stay in and wallow in self pity. Plus you have to console yourself before the dinner tonight with some music company executive that Mark kept droning on and on about on the flight over. You know this dinner is super important for his deal and no argument between the two will get in the way of that. So you swallow your hurt and anger, and decide to waste your time watching some random French drama. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Monday night 

At exactly 7pm Mark walks int through the front door. Of course he’s always 

The happy couple, you walk hand in hand into the restaurant. Mark’s manager greets you guys at the door, ushering you both to join the rest of the party inside.

 “Mark, I want you to meet Mr. Devon” his manager announces pushing Mark towards the older gentlemen. 

As he let go of your hand for what felt like the millionth time, your picture perfect dream was starting to crumble all around you. All the painful memories, all the nights he left you waiting around for him, all the times he put his work, friends, colleagues before you, all the broken promises and forgotten dates.. Yes, forgotten, like you had forgotten your friends like they were something to check off a to-do list. But at the end of the day, you couldn’t blame him, not really, no. Mark, he was only chasing after what was important to him, and that wasn’t you, not anymore.

With your head hung low, you quietly make your way to your seat. 

Once Mark is done making the rounds saying his hellos, he takes his seat next to you, intertwining his fingers with yours. And as you stare aimlessly down at your interlocked fingers, you catch a glimpse of the classouses on his hands from hours and hours of strumming his guitar mindlessly while writing lyrics. It then becomes painfully obvious to you, you don’t belong here, at least not with him, not now, it was time for you to let go, let him run as fast and far as he can, chasing after his dreams. Slowly removing your hand from his you plant a soft kiss on his cheek letting your lips linger for a second before you whisper your last words of the night to him  “I love you, I’m sorry for doing this to you tonight but I wish you the best Mark”. You walk out of the restaurant refusing to look back, too afraid that one look into his beautiful tear filled irises would make you crumble on the spot. 

Au revoir mon amour, if the universe wills it surely we’ll meet again. 

(Note: Hi 👋🏽 if you’ve made it this far thank you so much for reading for first ever fic. I started writing this based on Carrie & Miranda’s argument and then just let the story take me where ever. I’m thinking of maybe giving it a part 2, what do you think?)

[bullet-prooflove]

Pillow Talk: Alden Parker x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @mandy426 @caffeinatedwoman @elefrog25-blog @toheavenwmydrms

Companion piece to:

Left Behind - You come home to find Alden on the run with his ex-wife Viv.

See It (NSFW) - Alden returns to you after being on the run.

The Middle - Alden does not want to be caught in the middle of your case.

Alden’s in a mood, you can tell from the way he huffs as he flips onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. You lie beside him in the darkness, listening to the sound of his breathing.

“You’re pissed I invited her to stay.” You say and Alden sighs.

“No.” He drawls out the word. “I’m pissed you didn’t get her to tell Nick.”

He’s talking about Harper, Nick’s life partner. She’s been receiving gifts from a man calling himself Casanova, horrible intimate gifts. It’s been going on for months, Alden discovered earlier today, months without a word to Nick from neither you or Harper.

“It’s not my place to…” You begin but Alden cuts you off.

“We had dinner with them last week.” He hisses as he tilts his head towards you. “You both sat across from him and said nothing!”

“Alden.” You whisper fiercely so you don’t wake up your guest sleeping on the couch in the other room. “It’s a case, you know I can’t discuss my cases outside my department, the same way you can’t and I can’t force her to tell Nick if she doesn’t want to.”

“Lisa,” He says and you can hear the undertone of agitation in his voice. “How do you think he’s going to feel when he realises his friends, the people he thinks of as his family kept this secret from him?”

Despite what Alden may say he is fiercely protective over Nick Torres. He’d been hurt, paranoid and suspicious after Gibbs had left for Alaska and it had taken Alden months to start building that trust.

“Look I know it’s hard to understand but I get where she’s coming from…”

“Oh you do, do you?” He says cutting you off again. “Is someone sending you diamond earrings and dirty panties that I don’t know about?”

There’s silence then and Alden’s gaze lowers to your hands. You’re playing with your wedding ring, your thumb rubbing lightly over the band.

“Lisa.” He says, propping his head up on his arm. “Do not tell me the same asshole…”

“No.” You say resolutely, your gaze lowering to the peach sapphire residing in the fitting of your ring. “Nothing like that. It’s Kris, he started sending me letters while you were away.”

Kris. Your ex-husband, the one that’s currently in prison for trying to kill you. The fact he decided to contact you when Alden was on the run was no coincidence. He can only imagine what those letters to you must have said.

“How many?” He responds testily. “How many did he send you while I was away?”

“Three.” You say quietly. “You weren’t here so I took care of it myself.”

It feels like you’ve plunged a knife into his heart and twisted. He’s sensitive about the time he’d spent on the lam, about disappearing from your marriage, turning your life upside down and leaving you to deal with the FBI. Those letters they’re just another example of his failure. He wasn’t there to protect you the first time Kris came after you, he wasn’t there this time.

He says nothing as he turns onto his side, his back facing you. He squeezes his eyes shut as he crosses his arms over his chest. He knows why you didn’t tell him, you knew he would have gone to that prison and torn Kris’s fucking head off.

“Alden…” You say softly but he doesn’t want to talk anymore.  

 “I’m tired Lisa.” He says, his voice devoid of emotion. “I need to get some sleep so I can be up to meet Nick off that chopper in the morning.”

“Oh.” You whisper and he can hear the sadness in your voice. “I understand.”

But you don’t, not really because Alden, he’s a shitty a husband. You just haven’t realised it yet.

Love Alden? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Reunited 5

Pairing: modern!Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: So this is it. The journey has come to the end and I'm a bit sad but also very happy. This fic has a lot my own struggles within it and it has helped me to think over and let go of certain things that had accumulated. But before Sihtric and reader can look forward into the bright and shiny future they have to resolve some unsorted questions. I hope you'll enjoy it.

Warnings: it's emotionally tense with some angst and self reflection but still sweet

Summary: It was supposed to be a short two week trip that turned into five long years apart, just because your best friend couldn't keep her mouth shut. Will the reader and Sihtric manage to repair their broken relationship and find their way back to each other? Or will the reader decide to stay with the handsome and talented Sigtryggr?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Word Count: 7,8 K

Please remember that comments and reblogs are two things that make writers smile and keep us motivated.

You felt a surge of betrayal twist through you, an uncomfortable déjà vu that made your stomach drop. The whole scene was surreal, and your mind spun, trying to piece it all together. But before you could say a word, Sigtryggr's hand found yours under the blanket, his grip firm and panicked.

“This—this isn’t what it looks like, I swear,” he stammered, his face pale and clearly horrified by the scene unfolding. He scrambled to sit up, looking between you and the woman standing in the doorway. “This is… this is Stiorra, my ex-girlfriend.”

Stiorra crossed her arms, one eyebrow raised as she regarded him with a mix of annoyance and disbelief. “And in case there’s any doubt,” she interjected, “I’m the one who threw him out.” Her eyes flicked to you, and a slightly sheepish smile softened her expression. “Told him to never come back, actually.”

Sigtryggr winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not exactly a high point in our relationship,” he muttered. Then, as if desperate to regain some semblance of control, he gestured toward the kitchen. “Stiorra, why don’t you, uh… wait in the kitchen? Give us a moment?”

With a sigh that suggested she was equally exhausted by this awkward situation, Stiorra shrugged. “Fine. But we’re talking after,” she said, shooting him a look that clearly communicated there was unfinished business between them. She turned on her heel, retreating to the kitchen and leaving the two of you in a tense silence.

You exhaled, still feeling the sting of surprise. “So, let me get this straight. Your ex-girlfriend who kicked you out now has a key and comes barging in?”

Sigtryggr’s cheeks flushed as he stumbled over his words. “It’s… complicated. We broke up months ago. She kept the key for emergencies, but I didn’t think she’d actually use it. I mean, she made it pretty clear she never wanted to see me again.” He shook his head, his eyes wide with a mixture of embarrassment and desperation. “I had no idea she’d be coming by today, I swear.”

You let out a breath, half-amused by his genuine horror at the situation. Despite everything, there was something undeniably ridiculous about it all. Here was this cool, collected artist, now completely rattled by his ex-girlfriend unexpectedly showing up while he was in bed with someone else.

You finally cracked a small smile. “You couldn’t make this up if you tried.”

He groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. “This really isn’t how I imagined our morning together going. I’m sorry.”

Before you could respond, Stiorra’s voice called from the kitchen. “I’m making coffee. There’s milk and sugar somewhere—if Sigtryggr actually bought groceries this week, that is.”

Sigtryggr’s eyes met yours, full of sheepishness, and you couldn’t help but laugh, the tension starting to dissolve. “I’ll take that as a hint to get dressed,” you said, sliding out of bed and grabbing your clothes, feeling his gaze following you apologetically.

“Take your time,” Stiorra called again, her voice faintly dripping with irony. “I’ll try not to make it more awkward.”

As if more awkward was even possible, a stifled laugh escaped you as you slipped into your clothes, feeling like you were in some strange, twisted sitcom. Sigtryggr joined you, tossing on his shirt and jeans quickly, his eyes darting nervously between you and the kitchen.

Once you were both dressed, you headed to the kitchen. Stiorra was there, leaning against the counter with a mug in hand, her lips twisted in a wry smile. She looked at you and Sigtryggr with an expression that was part curiosity, part thinly veiled irritation. Two other steaming mugs waited on the counter and you grabbed one like a life saviour.

"Well," she drawled, swirling her coffee. "I see you’ve wasted no time finding a replacement." Her gaze flicked from you to Sigtryggr, her tone razor-sharp. "Or were you just waiting for the perfect moment to jump into someone else’s bed, Sigtryggr? Good to know you’ve been so… resilient."

You saw a flicker of hurt cross Sigtryggr’s face as he tried to respond, his gaze darting briefly to you before returning to Stiorra, as if caught in some unresolved pull. He shifted beside you, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Stiorra," he managed, his voice tight, "you know it’s not  like that. It’s been almost half a year..."

But she didn’t give him room to explain. She looked down at her coffee, a hint of sadness breaking through her sarcasm as her fingers tightened around the mug. "I didn’t come here to make a scene," she murmured, her tone softening. "I just… I thought I wanted to move on. But maybe I was wrong."

You swallowed hard, your eyes darted from Sigtryggr to his ex-girlfriend and truth be told the only coherent thought was the increasingly intensive wish for the earth to open up and swallow you whole. Facing lions in the Colosseum would have been a more appealing option than drinking coffee in what you’d thought was your new boyfriend’s kitchen, watching it turn into a stage for a soap opera. Whoever said, "If something looks too good to be true, it probably is," had clearly known exactly what they were talking about.

Stiorra lifted her gaze to meet Sigtryggr’s, her defiance melting into something softer, tinged with regret. 

"Siggy, baby, I’m so sorry!" she blurted, her voice cracking as her teary eyes searched his. The sudden burst of emotions startled you both, leaving the room steeped in uncomfortable tension. "Leaving you wasn’t what I thought I wanted," she continued, the words tumbling out, unrestrained and unguarded. "It was the biggest mistake of my life, and I just hoped you… you might feel the same. I couldn’t wait any longer—I just needed to tell you this." Her gaze darted back to the steaming coffee in her hands, as though she couldn’t bear to face him anymore. “I never imagined you’d move on so fast, not after everything we had together.”

You glanced over at Sigtryggr, who looked as if he’d just been slapped with a cold fish. The usual calm, steady demeanour he carried so effortlessly was gone, replaced by a vulnerable uncertainty you hadn’t seen before. His mouth opened as if to respond, then closed again, his mind clearly spinning in too many directions to form coherent words. He looked at you briefly, but his attention was drawn back to Stiorra, as if caught by an invisible thread that still connected them.

His eyes softened, a hint of that old, unguarded affection surfacing as he stammered. “Stiorra, I… I didn’t expect this. I thought… we were over. I thought you’d moved on.”

The longing in his voice was unmistakable. You felt an odd pang, a mixture of empathy and unease as you watched him struggle. The way he looked at her, his gaze clouded with both confusion and something undeniably tender, told you more than his words ever could. And strangely you didn’t even feel betrayed. You felt a deep understanding, even sympathy kindling within you. 

It was clearly time to make an exit before this scene turned into a full-blown tragicomedy. But before you could even think of a polite way to excuse yourself, Stiorra’s gaze shifted to you, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.

“Oh, I know who you are,” she said, her tone casual—almost too casual. “You must be the mysterious girl who broke Sihtric’s heart. I’ve seen your picture, actually. He still keeps one in his wallet.”

“What?” The words hit you like a frying pan to the face, and you nearly dropped your coffee mug. This was beyond surreal; it was a nightmare layered with unwanted revelations. You glanced around, looking for any possible way to evaporate from the room as a wave of nausea crept over you.

Stiorra caught your reaction, her gaze sharpening as if sensing your unease. “No,” she said, her eyes assessing you calmly. “Not like that. Sihtric and I were never… involved.” She gave a casual shrug, one that seemed both reassuring and indifferent. “But I know him well enough. He worked for my father, Uhtred, for quite some time. And we have some mutual friends��Finan, Osferth. They’re close, practically brothers.”

You swallowed, still processing the shock as she spoke, and noticed the way her gaze flickered, slightly more empathetic now. Sigtryggr shifted beside you, clearly uncomfortable with where the conversation was heading, his gaze moving between you and Stiorra.

“Stiorra,” he said, clearing his throat, his voice a mixture of discomfort and quiet insistence, “I think we’re all getting a bit caught off guard here.”

Stiorra shrugged, but her expression softened as she looked back at him. “Maybe,” she admitted, voice gentler now. “But some things are better said than left hanging.” She turned her attention back to you. “Haven’t seen him in a while, but… he never really got over you, you know.”

The words landed like a stone in your chest, and for a moment, you felt the weight of everything you’d tried to put behind you pressing in. 

“Wait, hold on!” you blurted out, the words escaping faster than you could stop them and surely much louder than you wanted. “I broke his heart? What the hell are you talking about? He was the one who found someone else less than a week after I was out of sight.”

Stiorra’s eyes widened at your outburst. She hesitated before responding, her voice softer, almost cautious. “Wait… really? I don’t know all the details,” she admitted, glancing away briefly, “but I know for sure that Sihtric has been a mess since you left. Osferth and Finan have been trying to get him back on his feet, trying to knock some sense into him. But he’s just… shut everyone out, suffering in silence.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but something in her expression stopped you. There was a subtle reproach that made you falter.

Her words stung. You knew them—Osferth and Finan—Sihtric’s closest friends. Meeting them had felt like a significant step, almost as if you were meeting his family. Sihtric barely spoke about his parents or any siblings, but these two were an inseparable part of his life. The night he’d introduced you to them still lingered vividly in your memory.

Finan had taken to you right away, looking at you with an approving grin, clapping Sihtric on the shoulder and saying, “Finally, he’s found someone who might actually keep him in line.” His easy laughter and quick wit made you feel like you’d known him for years, and there was a warmth to his acceptance that had meant more than he probably knew.

Osferth, meanwhile, had been a bit more reserved, a touch of shyness in his gentle eyes. But there had been a sweetness in the way he’d talked to you, always quick to ask if you needed anything, checking that you felt included. You’d quickly learned he was the steady, caring presence in their group, looking out for both Sihtric and Finan with a brotherly devotion.

Those early evenings with them had been filled with laughter and endless stories from their nights out. You’d felt embraced by the friendship, a part of the easy bond they all shared. But when Sihtric walked out of your life, that sense of belonging had vanished too. They had been his friends, not yours, and your connection with them had ended as abruptly as your relationship with him.

“Look,” Stiorra continued, her voice pulling you back from your thoughts, “there are always two sides to a story. But only one truth. If you want to know more, maybe… maybe you should talk to Finan and Osferth. They know him better than anyone and could probably tell you more than I can.”

Without another word, you stood up, the urge to leave overpowering any sense of decorum. Sigtryggr reached out, his face a mix of surprise and worry as he tried to get your attention. “Hey, are you okay? What’s going on?”

You shook your head, barely able to meet his gaze. “I just… I need to go. I need…” The words trailed off, but you didn’t even bother to finish the sentence as you hastily grabbed your purse and headed to the doors without a single look back. 

You knew that Osferth worked as an assistant stylist at one of the top fashion studios, and Finan had a reputation as a brilliant set designer, always moving between shoots with an infectious energy. They were well-known figures in the industry, so it didn’t take long to track them down at a nearby studio where they were scheduled to prepare for an upcoming campaign.

The studio was bustling when you arrived. Assistants hurried about, racks of clothes lined the walls, and the hum of people preparing for a major shoot filled the space. You spotted Finan first, standing with his hands on his hips, joking with a lighting technician, his signature grin lighting up his face. Beside him, Osferth was focused on arranging a set of accessories on a table, his usually reserved expression serious as he worked.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward, and Finan caught sight of you. His grin faded, replaced by surprise that quickly gave way to guarded curiosity. He nudged Osferth, who looked up in shock, the familiar softness in his eyes now laced with uncertainty and distance you hadn’t expected. The two exchanged a look before approaching you, their movements careful, almost wary, as if they were unsure of how to greet you.

“Hey,” you managed, your voice catching. “I… I need to talk to you. About Sihtric.”

“Well,” Finan said, crossing his arms, his voice lacking its usual warmth. “If it isn’t the ghost from Sihtric’s past.”

The jab landed harder than you’d expected, his accusatory tone sinking into you like a heavy stone.

Finan’s gaze was steely, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he fixed you with an unforgiving look. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to him?” he said, his voice thick with frustration. “Twice now, you’ve come crashing into his life—first, tearing him apart, and now, strolling back in like a stranger, as if he doesn’t deserve even a shred of understanding for everything he’s been through. The least you could do is thank him for what he did for you.”

“What he did for me?” you repeated, your voice barely a whisper, caught in a haze of disbelief. You couldn’t even process the meaning behind his accusations, feeling as if you’d just walked into an ambush. You regretted coming here, every instinct screaming at you to turn and leave, to escape this room and the anger that pressed down on you from all sides. Blinking back tears that threatened to spill, you took a shaky step back, but Finan didn’t relent.

He moved closer, his gaze piercing, his voice unyielding. “Do you know how long it took him to get his life back together after you left?” he continued, his tone unwavering. “To even begin piecing himself back together? And then you show up out of nowhere, with no idea what he’s been through, and somehow make him fall all over again.”

Stunned, you stared at him, but he wasn’t finished. “We’ve been trying to help him move on for ages. Osferth and I—do you know how many nights we’ve spent picking him up after he shut everyone out, barely holding on? He’s been carrying this burden alone since the day he let you go.” Finan scoffed, his voice low and dark with exasperation. “And you—you have the nerve to walk back and judge him?”

You wanted to move but you felt rooted to the spot as you couldn’t keep the tears from rolling down your cheeks anymore. “Thank him? For what? For dropping me and finding another less than a week after I wasn’t in sight? For ruining my life, leaving me gathering the shards?”

Finan drew a deep breath, but Osferth interrupted him, placing a calming hand on Finan’s arm, though his face still held traces of disappointment as he looked at you. “Finan wait. Something’s not right there.” His eyes shifted to you, his expression softening, but only slightly. “And that’s all you know about what happened?”  he asked, his tone measured but no less serious. 

“What else is there to know?” you snapped, frustration simmering in your chest. “I thought he loved me, and the next thing I know, he’s moved on like I never existed. I think I have a right to be a little angry.”

Finan exchanged a glance with Osferth, as if confirming something, then sighed, rubbing his temples. “So, Gisela never told you why he did it?”

You felt your stomach clench at the mention of Gisela. Confusion gave way to a creeping unease, your mind racing to piece together what they were trying to say. “Gisela?” you repeated, barely masking the surprise in your voice. “What does she have to do with any of this?”

Osferth shifted uncomfortably, his gaze turning thoughtful. “Gisela came to him. Said it would be better if he… stepped aside. She told him about that offer you got, the scholarship and the contract – that once in a lifetime opportunity for you. She’s the one who convinced him to let you go. She told him it would be best for you to focus on your future, that he was holding you back.  And Sihtric… well, he thought he was doing what was best for you.”

“Best for me?” The words felt hollow, ringing with an irony that cut deeper with each syllable. You felt a wave of disbelief crash over you, your stomach twisting as you processed his words.

Osferth nodded, his gaze sombre. “He figured if he just… cut ties, you’d have no reason to look back. He tried to bury how he felt, make you believe he’d moved on. But we both know it tore him apart. He’s never been the same since you left.”

You felt your knees weaken, the ground beneath you seeming to tilt as the truth settled over you, each piece of information landing like a blow. The anger, the hurt, the betrayal—all of it twisted into something else, something that left you feeling hollow. Your legs gave way, turning to jelly, and you would have surely hit the ground if Finan and Osferth hadn’t steadied you from each side.

“Easy there!” Finan’s voice had softened, a warmth returning that you hadn’t expected as he guided you, his anger replaced by concern. He quickly waved to a set assistant walking nearby. “Get a chair—and some water!” he called, his tone firm but urgent.

You barely noticed the assistant rushing off. A chair was brought over, and Finan and Osferth eased you into it, the world around you blurring as you tried to comprehend what you just heard. Osferth knelt beside you, his eyes steady and full of sadness as he handed you the water.

“I… I didn’t know,” you stammered, the words feeling small, inadequate. You looked at them, your voice cracking. “I thought he… I thought he didn’t care. I thought he wanted me gone.”

Finan shook his head, his gaze softening as he met your eyes. “It was never about him not caring. He thought he was doing the right thing—for you.”

“He’s been living with that choice,” Finan added quietly, his eyes meeting yours, “because he thought it would give you a better life.”

Osferth placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his tone gentle. “Sometimes people make the hardest choices for the ones they love. Doesn’t mean they don’t hurt just as much.”

“Maybe… maybe it’s time you hear it from him,” Finan said softly, his tone no longer accusatory but understanding.

—---------------------------------------------------

The worry gnawed at you, growing with each unanswered call, each message left unread. Sihtric had vanished after the fashion show, and as the hours without a word turned into an entire day, you found yourself pacing around your apartment like a caged animal, restless and frustrated.

You hadn’t wanted to go to his place—not at first. The idea of stepping into his space felt like giving up the neutral ground you’d hoped to keep. But as your concern deepened, it became clear that there was no other option. With a resigned sigh, you grabbed your things and headed out, finally making your way to his apartment.

When you arrived, you looked up to see a warm glow coming from Sihtric’s window. Relief flooded over you—he was home. You exhaled deeply, feeling the tightness in your chest ease, if only a little. You deliberately chose the stairs over the elevator, hoping the walk up would give you time to gather your thoughts. But even with the extra moments, your mind remained frustratingly blank, and your heart raced like a drumbeat in your chest.

Standing in front of his door, you raised your hand to the doorbell, trying to ignore the nervous twist in your stomach. But instead of ringing, you pressed your palm and ear to the door, straining to hear any sign of movement on the other side. Come on, you can do this, you urged yourself, taking a deep, steadying breath. Finally, you lifted your hand and pressed the button, feeling your pulse quicken as you waited for him to answer.

A sinking feeling twisted in your gut as there was only silence on the other side but you refused to give up. You pressed the doorbell again, then again, determined to get some response. Still, nothing.

“Sihtric,” you finally called. “I know you’re in there. I can see the light. Please, just talk to me.”

Silence stretched, pressing down on you. Frustrated, you balled your fists and pounded on the door, the echo of each hit ricocheting down the empty corridor. Somewhere down the hall, a door creaked open, and you glanced over your shoulder to find a pair of curious, disapproving eyes peering at you through a crack. But you were beyond caring about nosy neighbours. Ignoring them, you turned back to Sihtric’s door and knocked again, your voice catching slightly as you called his name once more.

Just as you felt the last shimmer of hope begin to slip away, you heard a faint shuffle behind the door, the sound of hesitant footsteps drawing closer. Relief flickered through you, only to fade as his voice, rough and bitter, cut through the silence.

“Just… go away,” he muttered, his tone carrying a heaviness that felt like a punch to the chest. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Sihtric?” you called, pressing a hand against the door. “Please, open up. I just want to talk.”

Silence. But you knew he was there, so you waited. A bitter, muffled voice finally answered. “Why? There’s nothing more to talk about,” he replied, his tone rough, barely masking the exhaustion in his voice. “Just… leave me alone.”

Ignoring his dismissal, you leaned closer, unwilling to let him shut you out. “Sihtric, please. I was wrong. I was wrong not wanting to listen to you, shutting you out. Please open the door, so we can talk. I just… I need to understand.”

He scoffed from the other side, the bitterness in his voice cutting. “Understand? You want to understand now? Why? You have your perfect little life, your perfect job, your prince charming.” His words were laced with sarcasm. “You want to judge me? I already gave you the chance for that at the show. I saw it on your face. I don’t need more of that.”

You pressed your forehead against the door, your heart pounding as you tried to will back tears slowly gathering in the corners of your eyes. “I’m sorry. Sihtric, can you hear me? I’m so sorry. And I wasn’t judging you, Sihtric. I was just… surprised. I’m not here to make things worse. I came because I care.”

On the other side of the door, Sihtric stood still, barely breathing, his entire body tense. He could feel the ache in his shoulders and neck, the result of hours spent tossing and turning through a sleepless night, haunted by thoughts of you and his own spiralling decisions. Every muscle felt heavy, weighed down by exhaustion, regret and anger.

He wanted to open the door. Part of him ached to see you, to hear your voice without the barrier between you. But another part—larger, stronger, the part that had convinced him to let you go years ago—held him back. That part reminded him of everything he’d become, the mess he’d made of his life since then, and the humiliation of his drunken, jealousy-fueled outburst at the fashion show. He clenched his fists, fighting the shame that burned inside him, wondering if he could ever face you again.

His heart pounded, each beat reverberating with the bitterness that had taken root within him. What did he have to offer you now? He was broken, he knew that much, and he’d spent too long building up his defences to believe someone would want to come close enough to help him pick up the pieces. Especially not you—the one person he’d hurt most by pushing you away.

Drawing a deep shaky breath he slowly slid down to the ground, resting his back against the door. His elbows propped on his knees he buried his face in his hands, the world reduced to the darkness behind his closed eyelids. 

The memories of the fashion show flashed in his mind—your face when he’d approached you, the shock and disappointment in your eyes, the way he’d stumbled through his words, lost in a haze of jealousy and alcohol. The regret was a deep wound now, throbbing with every word you spoke on the other side of the door.

What could he say to you? That he was sorry? Sorry didn’t even begin to cover the tangled mess he’d made of things. 

The sound of your voice, pleading, coaxing him to open the door, tore at him. He could feel you there, so close, and it made everything hurt more sharply. Sihtric let out a shaky breath, feeling the first sting of tears pressing at the corners of his eyes, but he held them back, unwilling to let himself break down, even now.

“Why are you here?” he muttered under his breath, as much to himself as to you. His voice was rough, barely hiding the bitterness he felt, not even toward you but toward himself. “What good can come from this?”

He sat there, torn between the urge to stand up, unlock the door, and reach for you, and the dark, cynical voice in his mind that told him to stay hidden, that he didn’t deserve whatever you were here to offer.

And yet, through it all, he couldn’t help but listen, couldn’t ignore the hope in your words, the softness in your tone. He could almost feel you on the other side, feel the warmth you brought, a warmth he hadn’t felt in years. 

But that hope was terrifying. Because if he opened the door, if he let you in… The very idea of you seeing him like this—broken, regret-filled and barely holding it together—filled him with shame. He didn’t know if he was strong enough to do that. He probably wasn’t. 

Silence hung in the air, thick and suffocating. Sihtric’s breathing grew uneven, and for a moment, you wondered if he’d even heard you. Then, his voice cut through the quiet, rough and worn, tinged with a bitterness that struck you like a physical blow.

“I don’t need your sympathy,” he muttered, the words laced with frustration. “I don’t need anything from you. Just leave me alone—I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“Sihtric,” you called softly, pressing your hand flat against the door. “Please… just open the door.”

When he didn’t respond, you clenched your fists and banged against the door, louder this time, not caring who heard. “Sihtric, I’m not going anywhere! You don’t have to shut me out. I know… I know what you did for me. I know why you left.”

There was a pause, so deep and tense you could hear the faint sounds from the street outside, muffled and distant. Finally, his voice broke the silence, barely audible, fragile. “Who told you that?”

You took a steadying breath, hoping he could hear the sincerity in your tone. “Finan and Osferth,” you replied. “They told me everything. How you thought leaving was best for me, how you made it look like you’d moved on just so I wouldn’t come back… how you suffered through it all because you thought it was the right thing.”

There was another pause, and then he laughed, a hollow, defeated sound that twisted painfully in your chest. “So, what?” he said, his voice wavering, barely holding steady. “You came here to pity me? To see what a mess I’ve made of myself?” He sounded tired, as if the words themselves were an effort. “I don’t need your pity either.”

For a moment, all you could hear was his unsteady breathing. You imagined him, standing just on the other side, close enough to touch if only he’d open the door. It was driving you mad—having him so close but so far away at the same time. You silently cursed yourself for turning him down, for refusing to listen when he had tried to talk to you before. Why had you been so cold? Why had you let fear take over?

But it wasn’t just your fear that had brought you to this moment. Gisela. The thought struck like a dagger, bitter and sharp. Why had she meddled? Why had she pushed Sihtric into making that choice without ever telling you? All those times she’d been there, comforting you, assuring you that moving on was the right thing to do—she had known. She had known the truth and had kept it from you. Why, Gisela? you thought bitterly, your hands balling into fists against the door. Why did you do this to me? To us?

You closed your eyes, pressing your forehead against the door, the whirlwind of emotions inside you felt unbearable, but amidst the chaos, a single thought began to crystallize with startling clarity. I’m not letting this go. Not this time. You had spent too long blaming others for what had happened—Sihtric, the universe, now Gisela. Too long nursing your pain, placing it on a pedestal like some kind of shield to justify not moving forward, not letting yourself feel again. But you couldn’t hide from the truth anymore. This wasn’t just pain or regret—this was love. It had never stopped being love, and it was time you faced it.

You straightened slightly, you weren’t going to let the past define what was left of your future. This was your chance, and you weren’t going to let fear or pride hold you back any longer. Sihtric deserved the truth, and so did you. He needed to hear it, to know that you still loved him—not the sanitized, half-forgotten version of love you’d pretended to bury, but the real thing. The kind of love that ached, that fought, that refused to let go.

And he needed to know the part you’d played in letting it all fall apart. The anger you’d clung to, the walls you’d built to protect yourself, all of it had driven you away from him when you should have stayed and fought, and you needed to own that. 

“I’m not giving up on this,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him, though you hoped he could feel the determination in your voice. “Not this time, not again.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the door as your only support as you leaned against it. “Sihtric,” you began, your voice trembling, but there was no hesitation in your words. “Please, just listen to me. Don’t make the same mistake I did. Please, I’m begging you just hear me out. I’m here because… because I never stopped loving you.”

You could feel his breathing hitch on the other side, but he didn’t say anything, and you went on, needing him to hear everything.

“I wanted to hate you,” you confessed, your voice breaking slightly. “I tried. I thought that if I could just hate you, it would be easier. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t hate you, not really. Even when I tried to move on, to make a life without you… I couldn’t let go of you. No one else could replace what you mean to me.”

On the other side of the door, Sihtric let out a ragged breath, his hands covering his face. 

The weight of your own words took their toll, and slowly, your legs gave way. You slid down to the ground, sitting with your back pressed against the door, your head resting against the wood as you stared at the empty hallway in front of you. 

“When you wanted to talk to me that day at the shoot… I was so cold because I was scared, Sihtric,” you whispered, the confession falling from your lips before you could stop it. “I was afraid that if I let you in, even a little, I’d break. That all the walls I put up to protect myself would come crashing down.”

Sihtric listened, his face buried in his hands, feeling every word you spoke burning holes in his soul. He wanted to reach for you, to say something, but something kept him still, the knowledge of everything he’d put both of you through holding him back. His breath was shaky, his heart pounding as he imagined you there, only inches away.

“I tried to move on, Sihtric,” you continued. “I tried to make a life without you. I even tried to love someone else, to find what I had with you with someone new. But it didn’t work. No one… no one ever felt like you.”

Sihtric’s hands dropped from his face, and he pressed his palms flat against the door, his fingers splaying out as if they could reach you through the barrier between you as he felt his resolve breaking, his walls crumbling bit by bit.

“I thought letting you go was the best thing I could do for you,” he murmured. “I thought that if I hurt you enough, you’d decide to leave me behind… and you’d never look back. I wanted you to be successful and happy, even if it meant I couldn’t be.”

A tear slipped down your cheek as you listened, your heart breaking all over again. “Don’t you see?” you said, your voice barely a whisper. “I was never happy without you. I kept telling myself that I could be, but deep down, I knew… I knew I’d never feel whole again.”

For a moment, the two of you sat there, separated by inches of wood and miles of unspoken feelings, both of you held captive by the same painful memories and buried longing.

“You don’t understand…” he continued, his voice breaking. “I’m not who I used to be. I’m not… I’m not enough for you, you need someone better. I don’t even know who I am anymore. You should be out there, living that life you’ve created and earned, not here… with someone like me.”

You swallowed hard, tears pooling in your eyes but refusing to fall. “I don’t need someone better, Sihtric. I need you,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute. “The real you, flaws and all. I can’t pretend anymore that everything’s fine without you in my life. I don’t care about perfect, Sihtric. I just… I just want you.”

The silence behind the door was deafening, stretching longer than you could bear. Your chest tightened, every second dragging on like an eternity. You strained to hear anything—a shuffle, a breath, even the slightest indication that he was still there—but there was nothing. The hollow quiet seeped into your heart, threatening to shatter it into a thousand pieces again.

Was this really the end? The thought weighed heavy, pressing against you until you couldn’t sit upright any longer. Slowly, you laid your head down on your knees, clutching them tightly as if to hold yourself together. You felt the sting of finality creeping in, the cruel certainty that you had done everything you could. It was time to stand up, to walk away, and this time, not look back.

But just as you started to gather the strength to rise, a faint, almost imperceptible sound reached your ears. A click. Your breath hitched as the unmistakable sound of the lock turning echoed softly through the silence.

You turned your head at the sound of the door creaking open, and there he was. Sihtric stood in the doorway. He looked exhausted, dark rings encircling his beautiful large eyes, face shadowed and tired. His hair was disheveled, and his shirt was rumpled, hanging loosely on his frame, but you didn’t care. All you could see was him, standing there, finally letting you in.

You jumped to your feet, propelled by a wave of relief and emotion, and lunged at him before you could think twice. The sudden movement caught him off guard, and the two of you stumbled backward into the apartment, the door swinging shut behind you. Your arms wrapped tightly around him, holding on as though he might disappear again if you let go. Tears streamed down your cheeks, soaking into his rumpled shirt as you buried your face against his broad, muscular chest.

For a moment, he stood frozen, his hands hovering uncertainly by his sides. Then, slowly, hesitantly, his arms came around you, pulling you closer. He let out a shuddering breath, the tension in his body giving way as he held you tightly, like he was afraid this was just another fleeting dream.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice muffled against him, trembling with emotion. “I’m so, so sorry, Sihtric. For shutting you out. For not fighting harder. For letting my anger win.”

His chest rose and fell beneath you as he struggled to steady his breathing. His voice was rough, as he finally spoke. “You have nothing to be sorry for. It was me… all of it. I pushed you away. I thought it was the only way.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. 

“I should’ve fought for us,” you said, your voice breaking. “I should’ve seen through it, through what you were doing. But I didn’t.”

His hand came up to cup your face, his touch tentative, almost disbelieving. “You couldn’t have known,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I made sure of that. I wanted you to move on, to be happy.”

“I wasn’t happy,” you said, shaking your head. “I could never be happy without you.”

He closed his eyes, his forehead resting against yours as a tear slid down his cheek. “I don’t know if I can fix this. If I can fix me.”

You reached up, your fingers tracing the stubble along his jaw as you steadied your voice. “You don’t have to fix anything. We’ll figure it out together. Just, please, don’t push me away again.”

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. He just held you, his hands trembling slightly as they clung to you. Then, he leaned in and his lips brushed yours in a soft, lingering kiss that carried the weight of everything he couldn’t say.

Sihtric's lips trembled against yours, as you pressed into him, your hands clutching harder the fabric of his shirt, silently telling him that you were here, that this was real. You kissed him back pouring all your emotions into that one single gentle touch of lips, getting more heated and desperate with each passing moment.

When he pulled back just enough to catch his breath, he began to press a trail of kisses across your cheeks, your forehead, the bridge of your nose. 

“I love you,” he murmured between kisses, his voice rough and low. “I’ve always loved you. Even when I tried to forget… when I tried to move on, I couldn’t.” His lips found yours again, more insistent this time, as though he couldn’t get enough, couldn’t hold back the flood of emotions he’d kept buried for so long.

“I tried to find someone else,” he admitted, his voice breaking as he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours. His breath was warm and unsteady. “I thought I could replace what we had. But it was never the same. No one could ever be you.” His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer, his grip firm but gentle. “I don’t want anyone else. I can’t. It’s always been you, and it will always be you.”

Without warning, he scooped you up into his strong arms, holding you effortlessly as though you weighed nothing. You gasped softly, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he looked down at you, his eyes filled with something raw and unrestrained.

“I need you,” he said, his gaze locked on yours. “I need you in every part of my life. And right now… I need to show you how much I love you.”

You smiled through tears, you fingers tangling in his thick, disheveled hair. You pulled him closer and with a low almost desperate growl his lips captured yours again as he carried you further into the apartment.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

The soft hum of voices and the gentle clinking of glasses filled the air as you arrived at the exhibition, a feeling of anticipation settling in your chest. Gisela was waiting for you near the entrance, her ever-poised demeanor slightly off-kilter as she scanned the crowd. When her eyes landed on you, a flicker of something—relief? Concern?—crossed her face, and she hurried over.

“There you are,” she said, taking your hand as though to steady you. Her tone carried an edge of urgency, and you could tell she was gearing up to say something important. “I’m glad you came. But listen, before you go inside, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Her voice lowered conspiratorially as she leaned closer. “Sigtryggr… he’s here. And he brought someone. A girlfriend, apparently.” Her words were careful, but her gaze flickered with unease, clearly gauging your reaction.

You raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement rising in you. “That’s fine, Gisela,” you said, squeezing her hand lightly. “Sigtryggr and I… we weren’t meant to be. I’m happy for him.”

She blinked, slightly taken aback by your calm response, but pressed on. “Well, I thought you should know. But I also have someone I want you to meet.” Her voice brightened slightly, as though trying to distract you from the potential awkwardness waiting inside.

You tilted your head, an affectionate smile creeping onto your face. “Actually, Gisela, I have someone I want you to meet first.”

Before Gisela could respond, Sihtric stepped forward from behind you. He wasn’t dressed to blend into the crowd of sharply tailored suits and polished shoes that filled the gallery, yet somehow, he looked effortlessly striking. 

A dark, fitted leather jacket hung perfectly over his broad shoulders, paired with a simple, black t-shirt that clung to his lean, muscular frame. Fitted jeans and scuffed boots completed the look, adding a touch of ruggedness that made him stand out in all the right ways.

His dark hair was neatly tied back, but a few rogue strands fell across his sharp cheekbones, softening the intensity of his piercing eyes. He looked effortlessly cool, the kind of man who drew attention without even trying, and the subtle smirk on his lips only added to the effect.

Sihtric slipped his hand into yours, your fingers intertwining, and the look on Gisela’s face was priceless. She was frozen, her gaze locking on him as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her usual poise faltered, and for the first time, she seemed genuinely at a loss for words. Her eyes flicked between you and Sihtric, wide with shock, her mouth opening and closing slightly as though searching for something—anything—to say.

“Sihtric,” you said warmly, your voice filled with affection as you glanced up at him. He responded by slipping his arm around your waist, his hand resting at the small of your back.

Gisela finally found her voice, though it was a touch higher-pitched than usual. “I… didn’t realize…” she stammered, her gaze darting to you as if silently questioning how, when, and why this had happened.

You cut her off with a gentle but firm nudge to the side, brushing past her with a smile. “Gisela, we’ll catch up later. Right now, there are a few people we’d like to say hello to.”

Sihtric’s arms wrapped securely around you as you walked into the exhibition together, his warmth grounding you. You caught sight of Sigtryggr and Stiorra in the center of the gallery, standing close, their heads tilted toward each other as they shared a quiet laugh. Whatever lingering awkwardness might have existed between you and Sigtryggr seemed to dissolve as you approached, Sihtric at your side.

“Sigtryggr,” you greeted warmly, your smile genuine. “It’s good to see you.”

Sigtryggr turned, his expression flickering with brief surprise before softening into a polite smile. “And you,” he replied, his gaze briefly darting to Sihtric before settling back on you. “I see you’ve… moved on as well.”

“Seems like we’ve both found where we’re meant to be,” you replied, your tone light, though the weight of those words resonated deeply within you.

Stiorra raised her glass with a mischievous grin. “Well, well. Isn’t this a picture-perfect reunion?” she quipped, her tone teasing but kind.

Sihtric’s arm tightened around your waist as he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “A reunion, maybe,” he murmured just for you, his voice warm and low. “But what matters is where we go from here.”

And as you stood there, surrounded by art, by people who had once been tangled in your past, you couldn’t help but smile as for the first time in a long while, the future felt beautifully, wonderfully yours.

[achillesuwu]

The fact that when I read this "But everyone will learn why the Other Arthur always walked alone, stare empty. Everyone will learn how Merlin has killed everyone he loved except for himself, and everyone will know how the Other Arthur has done the same to the Other Merlin." The song I was listening (it's great it's very Arthur coded AND IT FITS THIS AU TOO 🤌✨ https://youtu.be/twI3qZ6_8PQ?t=182&si=9AN09qUcLoSdzGka ) just went to the last lyrics "Oh gods that dwell beyond the stars, if you can hear my cry ; And if you have compassion, let me send no more to die" is fate omg

To come back on the subject : I LOVE HOW YOU WROTE THIS SO MMMMUUUUUCCCCCHHHBBHH (honorable mention to this because I was GAGGED OMG : I preferred you with longer hair.”

Arthur smiles, hand on the pommel of his word. Merlin shrugs, an equally menacing but darker sword materialising on his side, and right in his hand.

“It was better to hold onto when I came inside you.”

Also « We meet again merlin » <- arthur, babe, I know you wanted to ride that man until sunrise came)

>#i also have this irrational fear that someone will steal my fics ideas💀so like i always blog them under your blogs#talk about being dramatic#because i feel safer lmao

>I’m sorry if it will be quite long or under your blog, but you just caught my attention because yes!!! We

I'm very happy my blog can be a safe space! And I always LOVE when people expand on what I write!!

#but also like why i haven’t got all the time in the world to write all of these

I currently have 32 page of idea of wip in my doc (and I’m not exaggerating that’s really 32 pages 💀) and Goddness know how many are actually on my tumblr so I get it 😔😔 BUT WE REALLY NEED TO EXPAND AND CLEAN THAT ONE UP BECAUSE IT'S SO FIRE !!!!!!!!DKBSSBJSBSBSBSBSBSB

#YOUR IDEAS SOMETIMES MATCH MY IDEAS IN A WAY THAT SCARES ME

GREAT MIND THINK ALIKE or as they say were I live "Great spirits met once again"!

#but also like i always imagined this in a parallel world because i want merlin and arthur to actually see for themselves what other#possibilities there could be to their love#if there is a world where they can love each other without consequences

Tbh it could be very interesting if the reason why merthur 1's world was eating magic out of that world in particular is because merthur 2 has magic yes but it doesn't have a stable merthur relationship 👀 like merthur 1 world feed of magic of merthur 2 but merthur 2 feed of the kinder love of merthur 1 👀 and the only way they can both get stable is if not only merthur one go back and legalise magic but also if merthur 2 are put in a room and have a ‘hungry cat in heat fight’ for a week that turn into slow love making as days goes by 🤌✨ like who knew you could make war stop if you make them fuck MORE and not look at your king as you wonder when he will start to fuck less with his mortal enemy please sire it's the 8 time this month we cannot effort another tower cra— *sigh*

(also imagine from an external pov lmao like for the random people of Camelot this kingdom is already a shared custody between the king and his enemy-with-benefits who conquer it for 6 months then the king conquers the enemy-with-benefits’ kingdom then then enemy-with-benefits conquers back his own kingdom as the king conquers once more their kingdom and then—)

I just find it so interesting that canonically merthur can not hate each other. They seem also they never be able to fully live if the other is far away.

Just, this is the perfect set up fot extremely dark and toxic romance.

Like imagine : Merlin and Arthur being from enemy kingdom who are at war. They both killed countless of loved one of the other mentor, friend, lover, family,... But they can't stay away. It's like a drug Arthur needs to see Merlin, Merlin needs to see Arthur. They go out in the middle of the night, they fight, they kick, but they can never give the fatal blow. They hold each other so tightly you could never know where one begins and where the other end. They scream 'I hate you, I hate you, I hate you so much' and yet, between kisses they whisper 'I hate you, I hate you, I love you, goddess, I love you so much"

When Merlin's kingdom manage to take Uther's castle, they make love on the bloody floor. They run their bloody finger in each other hair, pulling on them so hard you could wonder how they manage to never break their kiss. Merlin takes, takes and takes. Spreading blood on Arthur's flanks, pushing him on the cold floor. Arthur fights, fights and fights. Pushing back, searching for a sword but when he find one he barely put it on Merlin’s neck before throwing it away and taking merlin in a crushing embrace.

When Arthur will take back his Castle, when Merlin will lose his and take it back again. When they will have made each other king by turning rivers red. Maybe they will find a different love or maybe they won't. It doesn't matter, as for now, their kisses have only one taste, blood and war.

[spacedlexi]

trying to keep all my clemviminnie thoughts contained until i get to episode 3 but

its hard

[twnj]

Choji: You've been staring daggers at the guy on that magazine since your mum dropped it off two days ago - who is he?

Shikamaru: Uh...Just some guy I know

Choji: Is he like, a rival or something?

Shikamaru: Something like that, yeah.

Choji: Like a rival in chess or.....? He looks like a douche, anyway.

Shikamaru: No I mean, he's nice enough...he’s a smart man, good head, good game, good reputation, good....career.

Choji: So, he's a douche.

Shikamaru:...Yeah...but much improved now you've drawn that cock and balls on his face 👀

Choji: Anytime, bruh 😌

Headcannon madness inspired by the wonderful Shikatema fic Grandmaster by @notquitejiraiya.

Thanks to @ferocityh for allowing me to bother her for a translation!

[bloodbathfortwo]

What does everyone think of Nigel Forbes-Colbie ever getting pregnant? It doesn't matter how you interpret it: Omegaverse, males can get pregnant Au, Trans! Nigel. Just tell me your guys' headcanons of Nigel's pregnancy: The changes, the hardships, the softness, and the vulnerabilities.

[abnormalpsychology]

thrilling sequel to my poll from back in January

[permanentreverie]

.