#i promise you no one on earth will ever ask how long you took to finish your degree

[sansaorgana]

— FADING LIGHT

PAIRING — Adar x fem!Elf!Reader

SUMMARY — When your daughter's mysterious sickness progresses, you are desperate to find a cure. You choose to travel all the way to Mirkwood but you are captured by the Orcs on the road and soon you find out that their leader is your husband who you thought of as dead.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I fell for Adar while watching Season One already but in the last episode when he mentioned that Sauron promised him children... I just knew I had to write some fic about him having a family once that he lost. 🤧 Also, I am like 100 percent sure that Adar was not his name when he was an Elf but I didn't want to make it up on my own so I kept it the same. 😅 The daughter's name – Moreth – apparently means gloom. The ending is bittersweet and angsty... but with an open ending! 🥺 PS – I've read The Lord of The Rings and The Hobbit books but it was long time ago and I have never even tried to read The Silmarillion but I tried to do some research on the wiki and I hope the fic is pretty accurate.

WORD COUNT — 6,420

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

FADING LIGHT

You watched Moreth through the window. She was sitting on a bench under the tree and reading a heavy book in a dark brown leather cover. Her black hair danced in the wind but she looked far from ethereal like other elven girls spending time around. There was some sort of darkness around your daughter which worried you deeply. The sadness and the quietness you had grown to – despite all the years that had passed, she had never smiled as brightly and happily as before her father’s mysterious disappearance and most likely death. She had never been cheerful, which was painful enough to you since you were her mother and you wanted nothing but happiness for her. But lately, something very worrying had been happening to her. As if the light that Elves were supposed to carry and shine bright with all through Middle-earth was fading away from her.

“Her skin…” You bit on your lower lip as you looked at Gil-galad who was standing by you. “She’s growing paler but in an unnatural way. Her skin doesn’t simply get lighter but… whiter,” you pointed out. “I don’t know what to do, I am desperate,” you admitted sadly.

“Her light is fading, (Y/N),” Gil-galad whispered and put his hand on your arm as if it brought you any comfort. A single tear escaped your eye and streamed down your cheek when you took one more look at your daughter even though he only said what you had known already.

“Is she dying?” You asked, not fully understanding the situation but it felt awfully wrong that all these things were happening to you. First, you lost a husband and now you were about to lose a daughter? What was the point of this suffering? “Is she somehow turning into a human?”

“No, not a human,” Gil-galad shook his head and walked away. “Worse,” he commented and you furrowed your brows but you had no idea what he meant. You did not want to know. “I suggest sending her to Valinor before it becomes too late,” he added.

“No!” You sniffled your tears back as you protested. “Please, no! I would not handle another loss… Ever since Adar’s death, I am her only family. I am her only protector. And I know it is not the time yet for her or me to leave Middle-earth,” you explained. “I cannot explain it but I know that our destiny here has not been fulfilled yet. I must do everything it takes to save Moreth,” you clenched your jaw with determination.

“I do not know how to help her and all my wise and experienced friends I have asked for help do not know either. The longer you wait, the more she fades away and after a certain point of this mysterious change, she will not be accepted in Valinor,” Gil-galad explained. “It is an honour to be sent there.”

“And a pain for me. I shall miss her. I already miss her father,” you walked away from him to look out of a different window and take a deep breath at the sight of the sea. “I shall go to Oropher in Mirkwood then,” you decided. “Perhaps they know how to help her there. It is my last resort,” you looked at Gil-galad.

“It is dangerous to travel so far away these days. The army of Orcs…” He started but you interrupted him.

“I do not care,” you snapped. “I am her mother. I shall do everything to help her. I am desperate,” you looked deep into his eyes with so much pain and hopelessness that he eventually gave up with a sigh.

“I really hope then that you will find all the answers that you seek there. And that both of you will come back safe and unharmed,” he approached you to squeeze your arm. 

“Thank you, High King,” you bowed your head at him.

Adar was an Elf much older than you but you spotted him watching you many times while you were with your friends in Mithlond. He was calm and quiet, smiling at you kindly but never bothering you. Respectfully, he waited for you to initiate the conversation first, which you did because he fascinated you. You admired his knowledge and how different he was from your friends – how mature. He was giving you flowers he had picked himself whenever you walked together and he always complimented you in a way that would make you blush.

When Elves loved each other and married, forever was always a promise. And for some it truly was like that but you were not one of the lucky ones. It was not long after the birth of your daughter when you lost your husband. Moreth was only a few years old when he disappeared and you began your desperate attempts to find him but you soon were informed by multiple sources that most likely your husband had been killed by Morgoth or one of his minions. There was nothing you could do – not even give him a funeral he deserved since there was no body. You grieved for long years and tried to raise your daughter as well as you could but apparently the burden of this grief and sadness had been affecting her more than you would like to admit it.

You still dreamt of him often – your husband. Of his kisses, of his promises of the life you would live one day. Far away from others; that had been his dream. And he had been often talking about achieving something more whatever that more had meant. An ambitious dreamer – that was how you remembered him. And despite the years that had gone already, not a day passed without you thinking of him dearly.

The thing he loved the most in life was being a father, though. Moreth was his whole world. He would sit her on his lap, tell her stories while braiding or simply brushing her hair. He would pick flowers for her or watch her play in the fields for hours, helping her to catch butterflies. You had never seen a man so mesmerised by his daughter and now this very daughter was sick and you had to do everything to help her. You owed him that.

You were nearby Khazad-dûm on the back of your horse with Moreth sitting behind you with her arms wrapped around your waist when you felt the horse getting nervous and anxious. You knew it was not a good sign but you did not want to turn around and seek refuge with the dwarves or in Eregion. 

“Keep going,” you whispered to the horse as you patted its neck but you were cautiously looking around, sensing the danger as well. “It reeks of something filthy,” you admitted.

“I do not feel anything,” Moreth shrugged her arms, which calmed you down a little but it also caused you to lower your guard down, which was a mistake. On the other hand, you would not be able to do anything anyway even if you had spotted them earlier – a small unit of Orcs jumping out on the road in front of you as they laughed.

The horse startled and shook you and Moreth out of its back before running away as fast as possible. You quickly grabbed your dagger even though you knew it was hopeless to fight a unit on your own with nothing but a small knife. They laughed contemptuously, showing off their awful teeth.

Squeezing the dagger in your hand, you hovered over your daughter, trying to shield her from the Orcs. She was shivering slightly and clutched to the fabric of your cloak.

“L-leave us alone, we mean no harm, just passing through,” you tried to reason with them even though you knew they were not creatures of high intelligence. If they were creatures of any intelligence at all.

“Have you heard her?” One of the Orcs mocked you. “The Elven ladies are just passing through…” He pointed his own dagger at you as you trembled at the sight of the blade, which was dirty from dried up blood.

“P-please… My daughter is sick,” you pleaded but he only tilted his head and brushed your reckless hair strand with the tip of his blade.

“Leave it,” one of his friends barked at him. “They’re Elves. Lord Father won’t be happy if we hurt them. He wants all captured Elves to be taken to him immediately.”

“Oh… Yes… Lord Father will have lots of fun with them,” the Orc standing in front of you grinned at you, which caused a shiver go down your spine. His words sounded ominous – you were terrified of an idea of some sort of leader of the Orcs who was respected and called Lord Father by them. You didn’t even want to think about what he looked like and what he would do to you or your daughter… And now you were a hostage, taken to him.

Perhaps Gil-galad had been right but now it was too late to admit such things. Full of fear and anxiety, you dropped the dagger you were holding, counting on a merciful treatment after giving your weapon up willingly.

You were inside a wooden cage with your daughter by your side. Your hands were in shackles behind your backs but Moreth was sitting as close to you as possible, weeping silently and clinging to you. You knew that she was blaming herself because if it wasn’t for her sickness, you would never be travelling on that road. You didn’t blame her, though. She had never asked for any of this. You leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead, praying for the infamous Lord Father of the Orcs to be a creature of a higher intelligence than his children. That you could reason with him and maybe offer him something in return to let you and your daughter go to Mirkwood freely although you had no idea what to offer. Perhaps a conversation with him would reveal more of his nature, which would help you to come up with a good idea. You were desperate to heal your daughter or at least to try to do so. You would never send her to Valinor too early without knowing that you had done absolutely everything to prevent it.

“It stinks,” you winced after your cage entered the Orcs’ camp.

“I do not feel it, mother,” Moreth admitted and you looked down at her face with nothing but shock. How could she not smell that odour of the Orcs and all their filth?  

You were not given enough time to think about it, though. You heard the awful noises of the Orcs’ tongue and laughter. Through the wooden bars of your cage you spotted them staring at you and pointing their fingers with hatred and disgust as if it was them who had reasons to find you and your daughter hideous.

“We are being taken to their leader,” you whispered to Moreth. “Let me handle it, darling. Do not talk, do not do anything, please.”

“I promise, mother,” she nodded and sniffled back her tears. She was terrified and so were you but you were trying not to show it too much because there was no point of scaring her more and to appear weak in front of the Orcs’ leader.

“Lord Father,” you heard a raspy voice of one of the Orcs once the cage stopped in the middle of something that used to be a market square of one of the human villages before the Orcs’ invasion. “We have captured two Elven women near Khazad-dûm. “They thought we would let them go freely. Claimed to be just passing through and that one of them was sick.”

You waited for the answer but there was none. You could see the mysterious figure only through the bars of the cage and you were not able to spot any details about him. He had to nod his head at the Orcs, though, because the cage was opened shortly after. You and Moreth were dragged out and pushed, making you both hit the ground with your hands still in shackles behind your backs. Clumsily, trying to keep your dignity, you held your head straight while moving your body up to rest on your knees at least, feeling the mud and dirt sticking to your scratched cheek. Your hair was a mess and your eyes filled with hatred as the Orcs surrounding you laughed with contempt.

You laid your eyes on your daughter and how she moved up on her knees as well. Her long black hair – just like her father’s – was full of mud and her skin looked even more unhealthy under the dark and stormy skies. In fact, your heart clenched in your chest because in this light you could truly see how sick she truly was and how little time she had before her light fades away completely and she becomes… Becomes something you did not even want to think of. The reason behind this sickness was beyond your comprehension, though.

You squinted your eyes at the man walking up towards you. To your surprise, his figure was nothing like the Orcs around you. He was either human or… an Elf? You swore, you could see pointed ears and it confused you greatly. With one more step he walked out of the shadow and you finally could see him perfectly well, which caused a gasp to leave your mouth and your heart skipped a beat. Moreth yelped at the sight but you were too stunned to comfort her in any way.

The man walking towards you was your husband.

It was not the same Adar you remembered – he looked damaged and tortured. His skin was sickly white…, which dangerously reminded you of your daughter’s worrying condition. His skin was full of scars and there was a sinister darkness about him that turned your blood cold inside your veins.

He froze at the sight of you as well as the Orcs went silent, realising that something was not right about this encounter. Adar furrowed his brows and opened his mouth slightly as if he had just seen a ghost.

“Impossible…” He breathed out but you heard him very well. His voice made shivers go down your spine. It was changed, too but it was still his. The sound of it brought back all the memories of your marriage and the courting. Of all the walks you had been taking together, all the stories he had been telling you and all the flowers he had been putting inside your hair. All the giggles he had shared with your daughter and all the kisses he had stolen from you under the moonlight.

Adar crouched down in front of you and Moreth to be on the same level but he kept his safe distance. He tilted his head and continued to look confused.

“You died,” he said and it was a statement, not a question. “I saw it,” he added. “Sauron,” he explained, “he showed me your death. A bunch of humans attacking your carriage and leaving your dead bodies by the road to bleed out,” he whispered as his voice and eyes filled with pain. “The vision has been coming back to me in nightmares ever since.”

You had many questions.

Question number one – how did your husband know Sauron personally?

But that was not time to ask that. It was time to explain something that had to be an awful misunderstanding.

“It is true, we were attacked some time after your dea– …disappearance,” you fixed yourself, trying to look for the best words. You still could not believe that your husband was alive after all but you were not sure if alive was the right word to use because the creature in front of you did not look like the Elf you had married. “We were robbed by poor human villagers. They took my jewellery and let us go. I did not even remember about it until now, it holds no significance to me,” you admitted.

Long silence occurred. No Orc was brave enough to say anything, seeing that their leader was engaged in a conversation of this sort and he seemed to be as confused as they were.

“Free them,” Adar ordered and stood up, waiting for the Orc standing nearby to get rid of your shackles. Once your wrists were free, he moved to free Moreth and Adar approached you to offer you his hand to help you stand up.

You did not take his hand, though, as you stood up on your own with your jaw clenched and your eyes filled with anger and hatred when you looked him up and down.

“My children mentioned that one of you was sick,” Adar pointed out and took a better look at his daughter. He had not seen her grown up yet. “That must be you,” he walked up to Moreth and raised his hand to caress her cheek.

“Do not touch her!” You snapped but he did not listen and your daughter did not seem to mind either.

“Father…” Her eyes filled with tears and she sobbed. Adar gathered her tears with his fingertips and pressed his forehead to hers.

A sudden thought made you realise that perhaps the answers you were seeking were not in Mirkwood but here – with him.

“Do you know what sickness is tormenting her?” You approached them, interrupting the bittersweet reunion moment. “Moreth’s light is fading. I am desperate to save her.”

Adar turned around to look at you and your daughter kept staring at you as well. And when they stood like that – side by side – you realised that it was no mysterious sickness at all. She had just been turning into a creature like her father. You gasped and took a step back, nearly falling down after stumbling.

“It is you…” You shook your head as tears filled your eyes when you laid them on your husband. “You are the sickness. You are the poison in her veins.”

But after hearing your words, Moreth looked outraged and saddened as she hid behind Adar. Her reaction shocked you. You knew that she had been missing him for long years but it had been you who actually raised her. Your bond was so strong and now she was siding with him? You couldn’t understand anything about her behaviour.

“Let us talk inside,” Adar pointed at one of the houses in the village that he was living in now.

Moreth walked there and waved at you to hurry you up as the Orcs kept staring at her and you with curiosity mixed with a little bit of respect. They had to realise by now that you were related to their Lord Father.

“Do not rush your mother, my darling,” Adar approached your daughter and put his arm around her. “She shall join us when she is ready to,” he nodded at you and you watched them both disappear inside the house.

You were left alone in the middle of the market square with dozens of Orcs staring at you and tilting their heads. You were unarmed and deeply uncomfortable in their presence even though they were not attacking or bothering you. They were just staring. Still, you would rather follow your daughter and Adar inside the house. There were many questions to ask.

Walking slowly without revealing your nervousness, you approached the door of the house and pushed them open. You spotted Adar and Moreth sitting together on a bench with a bowl full of water on the table in front of them. He was washing the mud and dirt off of your daughter’s hair gently just like he had been brushing and braiding it back in the day. The sight made your eyes fill with fresh tears again.

“It did not take you long, mother,” Moreth smiled at you weakly.

You looked around the dark house and felt awkward, not knowing what to do with yourself. You watched Moreth and Adar for a while as he silently cleaned her hair and face. You remembered that yours were dirty, too, so you approached the bowl and grabbed the spare cloth lying nearby as if it had been put there for you.

Slowly, you dipped the cloth in the water and wiped your face first, hissing when it touched the scratch on your cheek. Then you began working on your hair, brushing it with your fingers and getting rid of the dried up mud.

“How do you know Sauron and why did he lie to you about our death?” You asked finally. Moreth froze at your uncomfortable questions but Adar did not even flinch as he continued to brush her hair.

“I was lured by the promise of power given to me by Morgoth,” Adar explained calmly, avoiding your gaze. “I desired to learn everything I could about this world. Both light and dark,” he admitted, his voice stoic and melancholic. “After Morgoth’s defeat, I wished to come back for you and Moreth but Sauron wanted me to be his lieutenant. I refused at first. You and Moreth were all I was thinking about so he revealed to me that you were dead and that he had been sparing me the pain of this truth before. After seeing his vision, which felt incredibly real, I had nothing to lose. He had to deceive me to make me more willing to follow him,” Adar finally looked up to meet your gaze and you saw how his eyes filled with so much pain that it made your heart clench inside your chest. “If only I knew…”

“You do not speak of him fondly,” you did not let him finish as you pointed out. “I thought that the Orcs followed Sauron.”

“Uruks,” he fixed you. “After losing my family… they became like children to me,” Adar revealed. “Sauron does not care about them. He sacrifices them and treats them with no respect. I killed him once and now I am going to kill him again,” he told you.

You snorted at that as you started realising the absurdity of the whole situation. You couldn’t believe that your husband – whom you had been admiring for intelligence and knowledge – had acted so stupidly and proudly. So… haughty. That one day he had decided to abandon you to learn some forbidden magic tricks. What had he been expecting exactly?

And that your husband – whom you had been missing every day for many long years and whom you grieved – had been alive all that time, causing evil and misery all over Middle-earth.

“So… When you were telling me that you craved for something more… That’s the more that you meant?” You looked around with contempt.

“Mother, do not be so harsh. Father has been in so much pain, can’t you see?” Moreth stood up for him. “Are you not glad he is alive after all? We were told that you had been killed by Morgoth,” she looked at her father and cupped his face as if she still could not believe that he was alive. And as if she did not mind his cruel change at all.

“In many ways… I was, my child,” Adar smiled sadly at her.

“Let us go,” you insisted as you threw the cloth down onto the table, not needing it anymore. Adar and Moreth looked up at you both and once again you felt sick in your stomach as your insides twisted at the sight of how similar they were becoming. “She is sick, can’t you see? Her light is fading. Soon she will not be welcomed in Valinor.”

“I am not sick, mother!” Moreth interrupted you before her father could answer. “I could not understand this change either. For years, I have been tormented and scared, trying to fight it. But now I see that I have never been sick. Oh, can’t you see? This is exactly where I was supposed to end up. Nothing happens without a reason and the fact we were captured today was a part of the plan, too. Weren’t you always saying there had been a reason for us to be here, in Middle-earth? That is my purpose. I am not sick. I am becoming myself. Like father,” she nodded and squeezed Adar’s hands. He was staring at her lovingly and you could imagine that, indeed, those words had to feel like honey being poured onto his rotten heart – or whatever was left of it.

But for you her words were hideous and terrifying. You were staring at her in pure shock and you felt both sad and betrayed.

“No, that is not your purpose. Your blood is poisoned because of your father but… But there is still hope for you, Moreth. You are my daughter, too,” you pleaded. “Let us go,” you looked at Adar again and this time the tone of your voice was harsher. “We are going to Mirkwood to search for the answers.”

“There are no answers in Mirkwood,” your husband chuckled at that and caressed your daughter’s wrists with his thumbs as she kept squeezing his hands. “We might continue calling it a sickness if you wish, my love,” he nodded at you and you winced at the way he called you but at the same time it felt so… oddly good. However, you shook the feeling off. Your daughter and her health were more important than your heart’s conflicting desires. “The only person who can stop the sickness is Moreth herself. She would have to want to stop it and to truly fight it. She would have to seek the light instead of darkness. And those past years she has been chasing the corruption, haven’t you, my darling?” He asked Moreth and she looked down as your eyes widened.

“Moreth?” You asked her.

“It was stronger than me, mother. I have been studying things I should not have. I have blamed it on the sickness you were talking about. You were blaming my grief and sadness but it was not true. I took it for the symptom but it was the reason itself. I remembered that my father loved to learn and I tried to justify my hunger for the forbidden knowledge with the fact that I was his daughter. And I am his daughter indeed. Twisted, is it not, mother?” She looked up at you again, scared of your reaction. With each of her confessions, you felt your heart breaking into more and more pieces. Your whole world was crumbling down. Not only your husband but also your daughter were corrupted with great evil. “I still love you. I forever shall love you, mother. But do you still love me?”

“I forever shall love you,” you mirrored her words and felt tears stream down your cheeks. “It is too late for you,” you looked at Adar. “But not for her. Let her go. Help me,” you begged.

“You are right, (Y/N). It is too late for me and I do wish for my daughter to remain by my side if that is her wish,” Adar smirked, making you realise that you were not on the same page with this.

“Moreth?!” You took a step ahead but your husband stood up and shielded your daughter from you. That gesture hurt you deeply because you were the last person in the whole world who would ever want to put her in any form of danger. You furrowed your brows at him. “Is that what you want?” You kept asking your daughter although your eyes were fixed on her father as you were staring at him with hatred mixed with pain. It was a pure torture to see your beloved husband turning into a monster. All that grief and sadness after his death – they had been a useless waste of feelings after all. “Is that what you want?” You repeated your question. “To be an Orc Princess?” You asked with contempt through the gritted teeth.

“Uruk,” Adar fixed you again. You spotted anger in his eyes but he was very calm towards you and you realised he still had to have very strong feelings for you because even now, seeing what he had become, you felt no fear around him. As if you were sure that he would never hurt you. “You are free to go,” he added with a nod. “Tomorrow morning. You should rest now. I shall give you a horse and you can leave if you do not wish to stay,” he explained and walked away, finally allowing you to look at your daughter.

Your heart broke and your eyes filled with even more tears at the sight of your daughter. Now, seeing her face clearly, you could see that her decision had been truly made already. Her eyes – your eyes – were filled with tears that meant only one thing. She was preparing to say goodbye.

“Why can’t you stay, mother? We could be a family again,” Moreth pleaded.

“How can you expect me to stay? How can you even ask me?” You shook your head. “And how can you want to stay? Don’t you understand that you are robbing yourself of seeing all of your friends ever again? You are robbing yourself of the light of Valinor. You are robbing yourself of the beauty of Eregion, of the greatness of Mithlond… In the name of what?”

“Freedom,” Moreth answered in all seriousness. “Being a carrier of the light is an honourable task but the light is often a burden, too. I want to be free of the shackles – no matter how virtuous they are.”

“Then I have lost you,” you turned around and covered your lips with your hand to muffle your sob.

“Moreth, there is a room upstairs on the right,” Adar told her. “It is inhabited and it is yours for the night. Go there and rest. You have had a long day,” he nodded at her.

“Father,” she stood up and bowed her head at him. Then she looked at you and hesitated. “Mother…” She bowed her head, too. Waiting for you to say something but not receiving any reaction from you, she turned around and walked away to go upstairs.

You were left alone with Adar now and despite the fact he was your husband whom you still loved no matter what – it was hard to stop loving somebody so quickly, after all – you felt nothing but anger towards him now. He had stolen your daughter from you. His darkness had poisoned her and now you lost her.

“She is everything to me,” you swallowed a lump in your throat. You kept staring at the wall in front of you and you didn’t even flinch when he put his hand on your arm. It felt so odd to feel his touch again that it sent a shiver down your body.

“She is everything to me, too. So are you,” he whispered, standing right behind you. You could feel his breath on your neck. “Stay with us, (Y/N),” he pleaded in a broken whisper.

You stood like that in silence for a long while as your lower lip kept trembling and you were overthinking his proposition. Everything you cared for was here but you could not picture yourself taking part in this cruelty and destruction. On your way here, through the wooden bars of your cage, you could see what the Orcs and Adar had done to this land. You did not want to be a Queen of the ruins, ruling over the ashes in the name of the ungraspable idea of power.

You turned around very slowly, facing your husband. To see his face so damaged and full of scars made your heart weep. Carefully, you raised your hand to touch his cheek and to caress it as he watched your every movement with a hint of curiosity and affection.

“Why have you chosen me all those years ago? You told me you had spotted me but I have never understood why,” you whispered sadly, remembering the day when you first realised he had been watching you lovingly from afar.

“I have waited a long time to meet a woman like you. And I knew ever since I was very young that I would only marry if I met her,” Adar explained.

“And what do you mean by that? What was so special about me?” You swallowed thickly, scared of the answer.

“You know very well that Moreth’s darkness does not come only from me,” he smirked and held your wrist gently, intertwining your fingers together. You looked away nervously. “You are curious about what your life here would be like. I know your heart enough to know that you are thinking of it way too much than you should be,” he smiled but there was no contempt about it, just pure affection. You dared to meet his gaze and you nearly gasped when you saw how much he still loved you.

You even allowed him to kiss you. When Adar joined your lips together, you did not move away and you did not flinch. In fact, it felt so natural that you closed your eyes and did not even attempt to resist him in any way. You gave in, putting your hands flat on his chest.

And for that moment of the kiss, you could see it – you could see it all. You could see yourself walking next to him through the war camps like this one with Moreth following you. Both of you were wearing black dresses, your skins were sickly paler, your eyes were hollow and terrifying. You could hear yourself speaking in the tongue of the Orcs and you could see them bowing down at your sight. You could see the comfort in the darkness and your home being wherever your husband and daughter were.

But your visions were being fought with the faces of your friends and the beautiful cities of your kin. The images of Valinor were like sun rays penetrating your dark fantasies and making them fade away. And when the last little part of the ominous daydream disappeared, you broke the kiss. Both you and Adar looked at each other and he smiled sadly as his eyes filled with pain because he already knew what your decision was.

“I cannot stay,” you whispered.

He nodded without a word as he took a step back and walked away, leaving you all alone in the room.

You spent the night on the bench in the room downstairs and in the morning Adar kept his promise as he presented you with a horse after breakfast. During the meal you all were silent and you spotted that after that night your daughter looked even more sickly than usual as if her sickness had progressed very quickly all of a sudden. You tried not to comment and she tried not to beg with her words for you to stay but she kept asking for it with her eyes. For that reason, you tried to avoid her gaze.

The horse Adar had presented you with was black and it had a mark burnt on its side that you quickly learnt all the humans serving your husband had burnt on them as well. Moreth was standing behind her father when they walked you to the stables and watched you caress the horse’s neck.

You could not help the feeling that your life had no meaning outside this camp because you had no one to live for anymore if your daughter was supposed to stay here. Yet, remaining by your husband’s side felt too wrong.

And so did trying to force Moreth to change her mind. She was your daughter but she was her own person and old enough to make decisions for herself – no matter how much they hurt you.

Two Orcs walked inside the stables to join you and they awaited Adar’s orders. He pointed at you and smiled at them.

“Walk my wife out of the camp and make sure she is not bothered. Allow her to ride away in any direction she wishes to and remember her face because she is under our protection wherever you might see her again,” he ordered and you were quite surprised to hear those words. You knew he still loved you but you did not expect him to grant you such protection despite your decision to leave him.

“Yes, Lord Father,” the Orcs nodded and walked out of the stables.

One last time, you looked sadly at your daughter but you did not even hug her and she did not approach you either. After that, with a heavy heart, you followed the Orcs outside and allowed them to lead you out of the camp. They kept looking back all the time to make sure you were still walking behind them and they were nervously staring you up and down, which was quite annoying.

You finally reached the gate of the camp and they nodded at the other Orcs to open it for you. You were about to hop on your horse when you saw that the Orcs bowed in front of you.

“Farewell, Lady Mother,” one of them said.

“Do not call me that!” You snapped angrily and – filled with disgust – you mounted your horse and rode away as fast as possible although you had no idea what direction you should take.

Technically, you should hurry to Mithlond and inform Gil-galad about everything that had happened but you did not want to cause your daughter any problems. Conflicted, you hit the road ahead of you, not entirely sure where it was leading and allowing it to decide your fate.

Far behind you, Moreth was staring at your silhouette disappearing over the horizon while she stood by her father’s side. He was looking in the same direction as her but when she finally laid her eyes on him, she realised he was way calmer than her and there was even a shadow of a smile on his lips even though her own eyes were filled with tears.

“Are you not sad that she has left us?” Moreth asked.

“Do not weep, my child,” Adar wrapped his arm around his daughter and squeezed her arm comfortingly. “Your mother will come back to us sooner than you expect.”

MASTERLIST

[bellshazes]

ever since my fall freshman semester blackboard has shown my gen 101 required course on its front page, which is really funny now that my 500 level final humanities course i'm taking in 2024, fully twelve years later, gets displayed below it

[pepperyduck]

growing old with kento nanami

word count: 2.8k

warnings: post-shibuya arc, descriptions of: surgery, recovery processes, depression, insomnia, trauma, therapy, coping mechanisms; pregnancy, marriage, crying. (18+ mdni!)

notes: this WILL have a part 2 and maybe 3! it will be very long so i'm splitting it up. even though the warnings seem kind of sad i promise it's a happy story :)

part 2 | masterlist

“marry me.”

proposing to you was nanami’s first conscious thought after being in a coma for 5 days after shibuya. you were reading a book, peacefully keeping him company in his hospital room, not even noticing he was awake. your eyes fluttered up from your book, back down, and then up again.

“marry me, please,” he repeated. you stayed silent for a moment, eyes widening and mouth dropping. he wasn’t supposed to wake up.

“kento, oh my god,” you yelped, dropping your book and rushing to the hospital bed to look at him. his eyes were open, only slightly, and the weakest smile he could bear rested on his lips. you gently settled your hands on each side of his face, barely hovering over the charred skin. he looked so tired, and yet, he was asking you to marry him.

kento groaned when you hugged him, but you couldn’t stop yourself, you squeezed him gently and with care. a weak hand rested on your back, in between your shoulder blades. he was too weak to repeat his question again. but the only thing on his mind was if you would be his wife.

“yes, yes, i’ll marry you,” you cried into his chest, wetting the fabric of the hospital clothing.

neither you nor nanami himself understood why he proposed to you in that moment. after waking up, his journey to recovery began with slow but steady progress. it took several months of intense rehabilitation and support from both sorcerers and doctors for him to regain his mobility. with their help, he was able to walk and move with a surprising degree of agility, nearly returning to how he was before shibuya. he also had a few cosmetic surgeries, in an attempt to minimize the scarring from all he had been through. within a few months, he was able to see his skin smooth out and hair grow from the side of his head. he wouldn’t look the same, ever; but you didn’t care. you loved kento, as he did you, the fact you were able to celebrate his recovery made you feel like the luckiest woman on the earth.

the loss of his previous strength and abilities weighed heavily on him, casting a shadow over his spirits. yet, amidst the struggles, he found solace in small victories and the support of those around him, your support meaning the most to him. although kento was deeply troubled by the realization that he could no longer pursue his life as a sorcerer, he came to accept it as the best possible outcome given the circumstances. this acceptance marked a pivotal shift in his perspective, allowing him to focus on rebuilding his life in new ways. before he turned in his resignation, he had made sure to recommend ino for a promotion. it was his last wish as a sorcerer.

after the almost year-long recovery process, kento surprised you with a beautiful ring, one of the ones you had talked about before he went on his trip. he proposed again, in the place you first met, this time without weak hands and barely audible words. he was able to find a job, one not nearly as draining as his job from before he returned to jujutsu – and began making plans for your wedding. the planning process didn’t take long, he wanted the wedding to make you happy.

your and kento’s wedding was outright beautiful. it was a stunning venue on a beach, hundreds of guests attended, friends and family alike. kento shed a few tears when he saw you walking down the aisle, clad in the most gorgeous attire he’d ever seen you wear, as his bride. his voice shook as he said his vows – vows that he wrote, almost a good 1,000 words – and he made you a million promises. promises he wouldn’t dare to break, promises to grow old together and live the life you both deserve.

at the reception, you told kento you had a surprise for him, and ran off to go get something from one of your bridesmaids. he was confused at first, because he didn’t need any more surprises, he was the happiest he’d ever been. a newlywed, married to you. but when you came back to the table, two small pieces of paper in your hands, he didn’t think it would be possible to be more joyous.

“we’re going to malaysia, for our honeymoon, kento,” you excitedly told him, showing off the two plane tickets scheduled in a week.

nanami was speechless, a huge smile with teeth plastered across his face, and he gave you the tightest hug he’d ever given anyone.

when the two of you traveled to malaysia, kento was at peace. he had never seen a place so charming and breathtaking, he remained entranced by the culture and landscapes. the two of you spent your time hiking in nature, watching waterfalls and having lovely picnics wherever felt right. kento was so ecstatic, a smile constant on his face as he watched his surroundings with never-ending wonder. he thanked you a million times over.

you had never seen him be so alive. he promised you that one day, he was going to build a house, right on the beach, just for the two of you.

once you were back at your shared apartment, the reality of the past year and a half hit kento like a train. so much time had been spent recovering, constantly in and out of the hospital, planning for your wedding and improving both of your lives, he never had a chance to reflect on the genuine trauma he went through.

you didn’t notice for a while, but kento grew depressed, and restless at the same time. he began to spend his nights awake, insomnia brewing like piping hot tea, staying conscious until the early hours of the morning, doing any exercise or meditation to calm himself down and go to sleep. yet the visuals replayed over, and over, and over. the blood, the curses, the flames, the death. it hadn’t bothered him before, he thought, but he just never gave himself the time to soak it all in. and the depression – the depression was an all-new low for him. when kento wasn’t working, he was at his house, in the bed, while you were working or off running errands. you only noticed his new behavior when you woke up in an empty bed at 4 a.m. one night, 3 months after your honeymoon.

“mm…kento?” you called, footsteps heavily plopping down the hallway towards the bright lights of your kitchen. when you entered the room, you saw kento sprawled out on the floor, knees bent, with sweat rolling down his forehead. stepping over towards him, you kneeled down to look at him, and his head rolled to the side to look at you, too.

kento’s eyes looked so tired, the eyebags you hadn’t seen in years were full-fledged, his eyelids were droopy and exhausted. just by the emotion his eyes conveyed, you could see he was silently suffering, and he had been that way for a while.

“kento, what’s wrong?” you asked, bringing a hand to the side of his face to rub a thumb over his sweat-glistened cheek.

“i don’t…know,” he replied, defeat in his voice, “i can’t sleep. i haven’t slept. i don’t know.”

your husband always had a plan. he always knew everything; he always took care of the unknown and intimidating parts of life. for kento nanami to say “i don’t know” meant something was wrong, seriously wrong.

“sit up,” you softly demanded, gently pulling his shoulders off the floor. you sat on the ground, crossing your legs, and kento mirrored your actions, slumping when he finally sat up. “kento, honey,” you began, taking his hand in yours and resting it on his knee, “what’s going on?”

he was never one to talk about feelings, to talk about emotions felt deep down, because he wasn’t sure how to convey anything that would make him vulnerable. but as he sat in front of you, chest slightly heaving, such a burnt-out expression on his face, you knew there was something he wasn’t saying, but that something needed to be said.

“i can’t…” kento muttered, stopping himself for a second, “i can’t stop thinking.” he finally admitted, causing you to furrow your eyebrows with concern.

“about what, honey?” you sweetly asked, thumb caressing the back of his hand, tenderly rubbing back and forth.

“everything.” he stated, eyes flashing away from you to look at the floor next to him. you knew what he meant, though, but you had never seen him so pained from his work, especially from something that happened so long ago.

“tell me, baby,” you soothed him. you grabbed his other hand, causing him to look back at you pitifully. kento stayed silent for numerous moments, unsure as to what you could handle. but you were his wife, someone he was supposed to be able to confide in.

“so many people…died…” he mumbled, “i almost died. i saw what it looked like, i faced death.” his words began to come out quicker, “i’ve never seen that many people die, not even in shinjuku, and there was so much blood, and gojo almost, he almost-,” kento’s voice began to get shaky and uneven, a crack in his words as tears stung his eyes. “gojo almost died, too, and…i almost died, i saw it,” he repeated, “and yuuji – looked so upset, and takuma got hurt,” he clenched his eyes shut, words still coming out as a single string.

you moved closer, shifting onto your knees and wrapping kento in a comforting embrace. he clung to you immediately, his hands gripping the fabric of your shirt as if trying to anchor himself in reality. his body shook with the intensity of his sobs, each breath coming in ragged gasps. the rawness of his anguish was palpable; his cries were filled with a pain that seemed almost too immense to bear. the image of the carnage replayed in his mind, a relentless cycle that he couldn’t escape. kento’s tears soaked through your shirt, repeating with his incoherent murmurs of horror. his face, once so composed, now twisted in an expression of deep, unrelenting despair.

kento wailed into your chest for hours that night, unable to stop his shuttering and repetition of the same phrases. he only calmed down when the sun began to rise, slowly illuminating the insides of your home. once kento parted his head from your chest, he looked you in the eyes, asking for help without saying a word. you wiped away his tears and grabbed the sides of his face, promising him you will get him anything he needs. kento fell asleep around 7 a.m. that morning, with the help of you running your fingers through his hair, shushing him and telling him it will all be okay.

he believed you. kento nanami put all his faith in you, his wife, to help him fix his problem he hadn’t an idea on how to mend. and so, you did everything in your power to help him. you spent countless hours on research, finding therapists that specialized in helping people like him, and you came across different mechanisms to help him cope. most of all, you continued your duties as a supportive wife, constantly telling him to get up and go to the supermarket, or out to the library. little by little, these smaller things combined together to work out, and kento began to get better. it was a breath of fresh air, as well as a weight lifted off both your and his shoulders, when he began to smile again, and shifted his view of life to a more positive outlook. he was alive, he began to feel alive again.

kento nanami was finally beginning to live the life he desired and deserved, all with you by his side.

a couple of weeks after kento’s 30th birthday, you came rushing into his office, tears of joy — and anxiety — pricked in your eyes. soon as his eyes landed on your seemingly upset expression, he was concerned.

“what’s wrong, dear?” he asked, pushing his chair away from the desk to stand up. you quickly closed the door behind you, leaning against it, and you dug around in your purse to pull out a small plastic baggie. when you tossed them to kento, it only took him a few seconds to realize what you were there to tell him.

“…you’re pregnant?” kento beamed, rushing over to you to wrap his arms around your waist. he quickly lifted you up in the air, grip so tight as if he never wanted to let go, your feet kicked happily.

kento always wanted to have kids, but being a sorcerer, he always thought it was too dangerous. you had some conversations about it after shibuya, and the both of you agreed that if it happened, it happened. and your children would have the best life possible, of course; but the glimmer of hope you had for having kids slowly burnt out over time with both of you increasing in age. in that moment, though, kento had so much hope and pure happiness, just at the thought of growing a little family with you.

the first few months of your pregnancy were hectic. between doctor’s appointments, mixed with morning sickness and fatigue, you thought it would never end. although you were happy to start a family, negative emotions easily overcame you, and kento noticed. he tried his best to be there for you, but his work schedule conflicted with your lives, and he soon realized he needed a change in his life. he needed to change your life and his, because he would be damned if he was going to return to the same boring life as he had before.

using his savings and bonus money from his job, he bought you a house. a real house, with acres of land and space for your family to grow, so much bigger than the previous apartment you shared with him. a house that he owned, a house that would contain all the joy for your future. he made sure it was grand, with a huge kitchen, and multiple bedrooms – not caring if only two of them were filled, or if all of them housed someone. before kento showed you the house, he set up a nursery.

“where are we going?” you inquired for about the 50th time that day. you had been in the car for hours, and all kento would say in return is, “you’ll find out.” nonetheless, you were excited, kento had always given you the best surprises, but you had never driven so far with him.

“we’re here.” kento stated, pulling into an empty concrete driveway big enough to fit 6 cars.

“where are we? did satoru move?” you asked, the huge display of a home proving to be a bit intimidating for you. kento didn’t reply this time, he only scurried out of the car to come and open your door, helping you get out with a kind hand.

you didn’t even understand what was going on until you walked up the front steps, and a few keys jingled in kento’s hands until he found the right one to unlock the door. the door to your new home.

“wait...wait. kento,” you said, standing still as your husband strode inside, “what is this?” the familiar tears of joy rushed to your eyes, and you just stood there with a shocked expression plastered on your face.

“this is our new home, honey,” kento chimed, reaching a hand out again to welcome you inside. you took his hand, albeit a little hesitantly, and stepped inside your house.

“oh, kento,” you blubbered, throwing your arms around his neck, tears beginning to trickle down your face.

you and kento explored the house for hours, marveling at all the space and beauty he bought for you. you thanked him a million times over, crying at each new space you discovered in the house, you felt sheer gratefulness for your husband and all he did for you. and kento, well, he did all of it to thank you, to thank you for never losing hope in him, and to thank you for the joy you’d made him experience. he was so undeniably in love with you, just as he had always been, and he promised himself he was going to do everything in his power to live the life he deserved with you. he was going to live up to every word he made in his vows, every promise he made with you, each and every word he had spoken to you was going to show in your lives.

even from the moment he met you, he knew he was going to spend his life with you.

taglist: @kundere20000000 @missakward123 @cherriee-ee @starlightanyaaa @lagataprrr @hazzelle-kento

let me know if you'd like to be added!

[hazelfoureyes]

Luck (Alastor x Reader smut)

Tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x reader, smut, creampie, attempted kidnapping, justified homicide, mention of the the history of women stabbing men with hat pins, biting, breeding kink if you squint, blood, Luci left on read :(, protective Alastor, cervix bullying, possessive Alastor, outside sex, rough sex, fem reader

minors DNI

This was a two part story, this being part two. But part one just isn’t good enough and I’m tired of waiting lol so here’s the standalone smut, written in a way it can be enjoyed solo

Vox’s ever present eyes noticed a reoccurring face around Alastor, and decided you were an easy way to get under his skin. Alastor manages to find you during the kidnapping but how he finds you sends his gentlemanly resolve unraveling. He had wanted to be gentle, he really had. C’est la vie, hm?

It took nearly 2 months of regular run-ins around Cannibal Town, chats over black coffee and deviled eggs, and some behind the scenes magic by Rosie but you finally enjoyed a dinner with the Radio Demon.

He’d never tell you how he awoke nightly in a panicked sweat, dreams of your soft skin under his nails tormenting him. He had done his absolute best to be just a charming southerner, tiptoeing between flirtatious and polite. Something about asking someone out during the night seemed scandalous and … loaded with implications. But ever since his hands felt your body thrumming beside him during a dance at Rosie’s Birthday Bash in the town square, he felt starved for the opportunity to see you again. You were beautiful in the daylight, yes. But something about the night, the way the shadows seemed to blanket the two of you together, it made him feel wild. He could remember the nights on the prowl during his time on earth, and the rush of being so close to you with so few people around felt so similar.

Rarely did he get a rush of adrenaline anymore, but when you’d shoot a witty retort back at him his heart would balloon against his ribs. The way you looked at him while he spoke, like you were drunk on the sound of his voice, made his fingers tremble. He never wanted anyone to know this, and hoped in some way he’d never have to tell. But then he considered, what face would you make if you ever reached over for his hand across the table? What if you rested your delicate head against this chest and heard the frantic beating? How sweetly would you smile? Smile at him, only?

“Alastor?” You broke him from his trance, noticing the ever so subtle way his smile seemed to loosen around the edges when he was lost in thought.

Dinner was long done, and you’d both managed to stall for a bit as he walked you toward the gates to Cannibal Town. He had insisted he escort you, though he was irked you wouldn’t allow him to wait until your ride had arrived.

If he knew you were staying with Lucifer Morningstar, he’d see you differently somehow. You didn’t want Alastor to think you were chasing powerful men, or to know you slept so close to the King of Hell. Something in your gut said he would find it unattractive.

“Yes, dear?”

You gestured to the gates a couple blocks in front of you, “This is good. You should get home.” Before Luci arrives to take me back to his.

“I intended to take you to the gates.” He looked past you, then back to you. You were so … small in front of him. Not your body or form, just, your existence. So delicate compared to his own strength. The way you looked up at him with your large doe eyes, it practically pained him. You looked so innocent, pure— how he wanted to make your eyes roll as your head lost any semblance of coherent thought. He wanted to corrupt you from the inside out.

“It’s just a couple of blocks.” He lifted his hand to begin to argue, but you cut him off at the head. “Alastor” you said it so softly now, your tone startling him with its gentleness. Had anyone, ever, said his name so sweetly? Since his mother, atleast?

“May I?” You tapped your cheek. His eyebrows rose before knitting together in understanding.

He leaned down and turned his cheek to you. You hummed happily and placed a chaste kiss there. Alastor turned his face toward yours, “In the future, You don’t have to ask for permission, darling.” You tried your best to keep your heart in your chest, and nodded. It was well known he wasn’t fond of physical touch, let alone unexpected touch. Is this how it felt to be an overlord? To claim a piece of someone else, a slice of territory not originally yours? “Two blocks is quite a deal of distance in hell.” He didn’t take his eyes off yours. Your attempt to distract him failed. Of course it did, he was nothing if not persistent.

“I have my weapon.” You lifted the hem of your dress to show a small angelic dagger holstered to your thigh.

“Ah, yes. Ha ha! Some kind of hat pin, I see” His eyes rolled, amused, “Who would dare bother you with such a frightening needle?”

With a glare, you mocked him, “Ha, Ha.” But as you turned to leave you stopped yourself. Every encounter with Alastor felt like it could be your last, as if he’d just disappear entirely. “May I see you tomorrow? I was going to get coffee at Hallowed Grounds around 10.”

“My dear, you couldn’t stop me.” He cooed, “Needle and all.”

“Good night, Alastor”

“Good night.” He didn’t move at first, but after you had made it half way to the gates of what he felt was assured safety, he let himself turn and leave.

His grin touched his ears as he hummed to himself. His cheek felt heavier where you’d kissed him. A part of you lingering with him. How he wanted nothing more than to grab you by the throat and -

An appliance store window filled with various sized TVs flickered as he walked past. Alastor stopped, ears turned down as he turned on the heels of his feet to face Vox’s cocky stare plastered on every screen.

“Oh, it’s you. Don’t you have a curfew? No TV after 9pm, they say. Rots the brain.” Alastor lifted his hand to inspect his nails. Vox had a witty intro planned, and launched straight into it. He only stopped when Alastor looked back up, “I’m sorry, were you speaking?”

The screens glitched and filled with static before Vox’s face stretched out across them all.

“It’s not my bed time you should be worried about.” Vox crooned. He couldn’t resist the urge to prod Alastor, “Perhaps your new friend should have gone home earlier.”

Just before you reached the gates, you stopped to see if Lucifer had replied about his ETA. Your phone slipped out of your hands as someone pulled you backwards into the narrow alley behind you.

A hand covered your mouth while the other arm was lifting you up by your waist. You kicked your feet uselessly trying to make contact with any thing that would slow your progress into the shadows.

Another man entered now in front of you, “You’ve got a meeting at Vee Tower, babe.”

The sound of an idling car in the back of the alley came into focus. You grabbed your knife and plunged it into the right thigh of the man holding you. He dropped you and you barely managed to scramble to your feet before his hand grabbed you by the hair and threw you against the wall. The force of the impact stunned you but you’d managed to keep the knife in your grip.

You’d been waiting for this. You had let men get the best of you before on earth, too scared of dying if you failed to defend yourself. You weren’t scared now. When you looked back at the man, he was shouting at his partner but you couldn’t understand a word. Your ears were ringing, a combined effect of hitting the wall and your skyrocketing blood pressure.

Your shoes slipped off easily and you pushed yourself from the wall and back into the attempted kidnapper, shoulder first.

Seeing you launch yourself onto his accomplice, the other man booked it out of the alley. It wasn’t worth it. This was supposed to be easier than this.

If he had maybe turned left, he would have made it to safety. But luck was with Alastor when the brute ran straight into him.

Your phone lay on the ground behind the man, who was already backing up when Alastor set his eyes on him.

“I’m going to enjoy this”, Alastor’s voice cracked with a static sting, eyes flickered to red dials against midnight black eyes as his back and neck broke and stretched. The man tripped over himself, but Alastor’s hands tore the man’s upper torso from his body before his ass had time to hit the sidewalk.

There was no time to savor the death, he tossed the man’s head and shoulders into the street before bounding with unnaturally wide strides into the entry of the side street.

Never had he known fear like this. Not when alive, not even close. Not even when Adam nearly bested him. There was a rock in his stomach threatening to drag his heart into the gutter of the Pride Ring as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the alley. Were you still there? Were you still whole?

You hadn’t noticed him at first, not until his massive, looming shadow shrunk across your body. Even then, you hadn’t stopped to realize it wasn’t the other attacker. You continued stabbing the dagger into the man’s throat with both hands until Alastor’s shoe crushed a piece of wayward glass under his step, breaking your concentration. Wild eyes finally tore themselves from the grey flesh of the demon on the floor up to Alastor, still expecting a fight with the man who’d fled.

“Alastor” was all you could squeak out. You were straddling the man by the chest, his throat so thoroughly decimated his head held on by just a few loosened tendons. The white dress you’d worn specially for your dinner was soaked through with blood. Your hands red to the wrists. Your lips and cheeks splattered. Your feet dirty and bare.

You yelped as you were yanked off of the dead man by your chin, Alastor’s large hand holding you off the ground. You were finally eye to eye with your dinner date. For the second time that night you were thrown against the cold brick wall. Alastor’s free hand grabbed yours that still held the knife and repeatedly bashed your fisted hand against the wall until the knife fell from your grip to the street below you. You hadn’t meant to keep it, never meant to brandish it at Alastor. Your survival instinct had overridden your sense.

Perhaps it would have stayed in control, but when Alastor’s hand slipped to your throat and his lips crashed into yours your mind went blank.

He kissed you clumsily, this wasn’t a man in love, or even a man in lust. This wasn’t a man at all. A demon in need was bruising your lips against his teeth. When you didn’t immediately open to receive him, he used his free hand to push at your cheeks and press inward where your bottom jaw naturally met your top. Your mouth was wrenched open, allowing his long and wide tongue to bully your own.

Alastor felt frenzied, the sight of you manically stabbing the already dead attacker momentarily broke him. His sweet little doe, his innocent and gentle darling brutally murdered a man and he got to witness it with his own eyes. He never believed God ever noticed his existence, but the moment he saw you straddling that corpse he felt sure some higher power delivered you to him. Just for him.

Only for him.

Pretense and facade be damned, you were made for him in such a specifically demented way.

He lifted you up, pressing your body against the wall with his own as your legs wrapped around his hips. He didn’t know where to start, he couldn’t keep his hands from trembling as he smeared the blood over your cheek between hurried kisses. His eyes were aglow, keeping your focus on him and only him as they darted around your face taking in every detail, every errant drop of your attacker’s blood.

Alastor buried his head into your collarbone, sucking bruises and nipping cuts into your exposed skin. You could feel the strained erection in his pants, it helped keep you balanced against him and the wall. He seemed to be mindlessly grinding his clothed cock against your core. Your dress had naturally found its way up and over your hips as he let one of his hands cradle your ass.

He had half a mind to rip the dress off of you but as he took a second to look down at your body he knew he wanted to keep it. The dress his love first killed in. Love— before a word that fell weightless from his tongue now sat heavy in his thoughts. He wanted your blood stained dress stuffed in his mouth as his last meal. An ode to your corruption. Maybe you'd understand him now, better than most. Did you enjoy it when you stabbed that man?

Breathing ragged and uneven, he pressed his forehead against yours. His eyes were glowing red, pupils dark black pins.

Did it scare you, when you killed him?

Were you scared now?

He lurched you upward again, hands coming to either side of your head as he pulled back to look at your face properly.

“If you don’t want this, now is your only opportunity to stop me.” He closed his eyes to try and regain an ounce of composure. Perhaps a small human piece of him not wanting to see your face if you denied him this.

With every breath he seemed to be taking in your scent, his hips still gently pushing into you. Your eyes darted to the well lit street just beyond the dark of the alley. You wrapped your arms around his neck, letting your fingers scratch lightly at his undercut. He violently shuddered at the touch.

You shook your head imperceivably to most, “You don’t have to ask me for permission, darling.”

With that, Alastor came completely undone. As his teeth marked your neck with shallow tears, his hand tore the crotch of your panties entirely off, leaving just the lace waistband to slip up your stomach. With the speed of a starving man to his first meal, his cock was free of his pants and rutting against your exposed slit.

The head of his member was pushing against your clit in unpracticed thrusts, slipping between your lips and pressing at your entrance. With a growl he lifted you up more and angled your hips to him. He didn't wait to feel if he was lined up and he sunk into your heat with a single thrust. You winced, clutching onto his shoulders. His eyes saw the pained expression and for a second, just barely, the southern gentleman who tried to walk you home slipped back to the surface. But as quickly as he came, he was lost again as Alastor saw the way your mouth hung open, tongue hanging over your swollen lip.

A static shock nipped at your wrists where they met his neck, "Such a debauched look, mon cher. I haven't even begun to ruin you yet."

A moan slipped past your lips as he brought his mouth to your ear, tugging with his teeth as he thrust back into you. You could feel he hadn't bottomed out yet, but already he was crushing your stomach into your diaphragm. Your chest began to feel hot, a warmth trickling down to your stomach and pooling beneath your belly button.

Ad his breath ghosted along your neck, you could hear it sharply spike with every slam of his hips against yours. Something about seeing him losing composure, hearing him so vulnerable, spurred you to roll your hips against his cock.

"Mmmm," Alastor groaned, "Don't push your luck, dear. Do you know how precarious of a sit-"

You did it again.

He pulled out of you with one motion and flipped you around. Your hands were yanked behind you, the long fingers of one of his own hands intertwined with your wrists. His other hand lifted your knee up and out as he pushed back into you. The new position allowed him to reach deeper than before, and with a burning stretch you felt him finally bottom out. With each thrust, the head of his dick dragged inside of you. The new angle allowed him to smash into your g-spot with every slam into your heat, his balls tightly slapping against your wet cunt.

"I wanted to be gentler with you", He leaned his head against your shoulder, pace quickening. It felt as if your back would snap in half, "But you looked absolutely sinful covered in his blood." His lips grazed your ear as he let go of your wrists, his antlers now large enough to be scraping against the bricks above your head. The loss of him holding you made you lose you balance. Alastor took the opportunity to find your clit with his middle finger.

Biting down on your lip you broke the skin, trying to suppress the moan rising out of you. His hips kept a bruising pace, your ass smacking against his lower stomach with every thrust. You didn't want anyone, anyone to find you getting railed against a wall just outside of cannibal town.

His fingers forced past your lips, you hadn't noticed he was using a shadow tendril to now lift your knee to nearly touch your elbow. Two fingers pressed down on your tongue as his pace impossibly quickened.

You wanted to lick or suck at his digits, do anything to participate in this alleyway fucking, but it became clear Alastor didn't want you to do anything at all. He was lost in the pleasure of your pussy clamping down on him, pushing back against him with every intrusion. He just needed you to exist there around him. He needed you to take him, for your body to welcome the gentle abuse.

The pressure began to build as the reality set in that the Radio Demon was fucking you raw against a wall. You felt your orgasm winding up. The infamous Alastor, the mighty overlord, balls deep in you. So entranced by your cunt he could only groan and hiss against your ear. You could feel every centimeter of him pulling and pushing inside of you, his head smashing your cervix and uterus into your guts.

Your hands began to slip down the wall as your mind started to go fuzzy around the edges. His middle finger strumming at your sensitive clit with a new fervor, his thrusts becoming shallower. The radio in the assailants idling car roared to life, flitting through stations and static wildly as Alastor spoke to you.

"When you orgasm,” His voice crackled against the nape of your neck, "and your cervix lowers to receive my seed,” your knee was dropped as he fucked you flush against the wall, trapping your body there, "I will drown your needy cunt in my cum, darling." His words echoed through the car's radio and off the walls of the alley, volume peaking with a pop as the speakers blew out.

The tickle of his lips along your spine made you shudder, and you went limp as you let your mind go and allowed your body to spasm around him. As your orgasm hit, your stomach muscles cramped and your body tightened around Alastor's cock. He hissed, his hips losing their rhythm for a second as you almost painfully clamped onto him, cunt trying desperately to pull him deeper into you. He needed to slow down or else he’d be pushed into his own release sooner than he planned. As your orgasm waned and your pussy squeezed softly against him again, he renewed the rhythm. Your body had gone entirely slack, your limbs no longer able to receive messages from your brain.

Within seconds, Alastor thrust against you so forcefully you felt the air pressed out of your lungs. He buried himself in you, holding your hips flush against his as you instinctively tried to squirm away. The way you moved against him, tried to flee from his release, only seemed to make his cock jump more inside you. You thought you heard a pained “mine" against your shoulder as his promised seed jerked into your now pliant womb.

He finally stilled, his dick softening in you. You felt your body slide down the wall, feet touching the ground before giving out entirely. You sat, slumped back, and looked to the scene in front of you. Dead demon behind Alastor, your shoes bloodied and tossed around, and your little knife just within reach.

Alastor quickly composed himself, cock returned to his pants and his suit adjusted precisely. You looked up at him, eyes glazed and tear stained. Your dress was wet and ruined, thighs slick with a mix of fluids. Yet he stood there, clean and pretty. Perhaps some of you had soaked into the front of his pants, but you couldn’t be sure.

"I apologize for underestimating you", He took the dagger, lifting your dress to slide it back into its holster. "And for allowing you to leave my sight." He gathered your shoes and wiped the dirt from them against the leg of his pants before gently slipping them back onto your feet. With two large hands under your arms he pulled you up to your feet, legs trembling still. "I promise you it won't happen again. Can you walk, my doe?"

The new name made your cheeks feel hot, funny given the more embarrassing part of this situation was his cum now sliding down your thighs. You nodded weakly, adding, "But-" and glanced to your lap. You squeezed your knees together and looked back at him.

"I fail to see the problem." His head tilted to the side as he lifted your dress with one of his long fingers and watched the milky white liquid slowly inch down your inner leg. "But, I'll find us a taxi. You won't be going home." He guided you by your hands to step over the corpse and into the light of the street.

You clarified, "I won't be going home tonight?"

He summoned his microphone and brought it down with a crack onto your phone, still discarded on the sidewalk. "INCOMING CALL: LUCI" flashing on the screen before it was shattered. He lifted his hand and waved for a passing taxi, turning to you with a soft grin, "Any night, darling."

༻Masterlist༺

[maeumi-jng]

can't stop me.

pairing: enhypen x gn!reader

synopsis: when they tell you they like you and you respond with "can't you stop?" because you're scared to be in a relationship.

warnings: fluff, angsty-ish?, poor humour, skinship

library: enhypen bookshelf

author's note: i got this idea after reading a dialogue prompt and i thought it would work in the world of idols!

heeseung

can't tell if he's dreaming or not– he blinked at you, unable to decipher reality. his eyebrows are scrunched while an incredulous expression falls overs his face. "what do you mean, 'can't you stop?'" this was ludicrous. the strangest thing he had ever heard.

you gave him a pointed look. "you know what i mean."

heeseung poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue. "of course, i can't stop." what a stupid thing of you to say. any hope he had was deflating. his shoulders were slumped and his happy demeanour was fading. he folds his arms before taking a deep breath. "why would i want to stop? i like you. a lot. i don't think i would ever want to stop."

jeez, okay, poet heeseung. "b-but what about your company? your fans?" you asked nervously.

he tilted his head and let out a sigh of relief. he thought you were meaning something else entirely. he stretched his arms and brought them around you, enveloping you into a warm, comforting hug. "real fans will love you. and as for the company, i'll make sure they protect you, okay? no one will invade you or your life, i promise."

your heart warmed at his words. he cared... so much. you held him tighter, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "i love you, hee."

"i love you too, sweetheart."

jongseong

he's the only logical and calm member– he would be like, "okay."

and you would blinked, taken aback. because like what? you weren't expecting the response. you were just trying to offset his feelings because dating someone like jay, as amazing it could be, was a huge risk and step for you. but this was... what you wanted right?

you twiddled your fingers, nodding slowly. "okay then..." you awkwardly said.

to your shock, jay grabbed your hands gently and met your eyes earnestly. "if that's what you want, then i'll respect that. but if it's because you're scared, then i promise i'll do whatever it takes and however long it takes to make you feel safe."

you widened your eyes at his words, feeling small tears line your waterline. how on earth had you been so lucky to meet him out of all the people in the world... you will never know. but you couldn't let the conversation end like this. "jay..." you called softly.

jay hummed in response, mind already busy with what he needs to do.

"i really really like you too," you confessed.

jay paused his pondering. he couldn't believe his ears. you had given it a chance. a wide smile finally spread onto his face and for a moment, all the worry in the world had disappeared into the air. he squeezed your hand after bringing a small kiss to the back of it.

in the end.... a respectful king.

jaeyun

this man is already so clingy. hearing something like this would break his heart! :(

jake wouldn't even understand what you mean and would just get clingier. his eyes would be round with worry and searching your own, his hands would already be out to reach yours. "i... i–what you do you mean? i can't just stop. not when i like you so much. did i," he cleared his throat, "did i do something, perhaps? just tell me and i'll fix it."

you chewed your lip nervously. he was already breaking all the walls you had built up for this conversation. "jake," you whined softly, swinging his hands. "you're making this really hard."

"making what hard, sweetheart? what's going on in that pretty head of yours?" jake queried gently, tucking a tress behind your hair.

christ.

"i'm terrified," you blurted. you took in a sharp breath upon seeing a bit of confusion enter jake's puppy browns. still playing with his fingers, "i just... it's going to be so difficult. us i mean. you're you and i... i'm me. we're so different and the world–"

finally it clicked for jake.

"oh baby," he cooed, bringing you into a tight hug. as he rubbed your back gently, he said, "even if the world was against us, i would be happy that it's you and me in the end. we'll get through anything if it comes up... together, hmm?"

soft cries in the audience for jake ♡︎

sunghoon

bro, if jake didn't understand, this guy is the definition of not understanding.

not only did sunghoon not get it, he refused your answer! "no. i can't stop and i won't. i don't care," he said with the most indifferent tone.

all your worry is put on hold for a brief moment. you blankly look at him. "i... what?" it was all you could say after being so dumbfounded.

"why? why do you want me to stop?" sunghoon asked, hands resting on his hip.

you sucked in a sharp breath. you didn't like where this conversation was going. sunghoon was beginning to sound like your mother and you were slowly slipping into trouble. your eyes darted around your surroundings. "uh, because i don't like you...?"

now sunghoon is like ????????? what's with the question mark at the end?

sunghoon raised a brow, putting his hands on either side of your arms. he looked you dead in the eye. "okay... now tell me that while looking me in the eye."

oh... fuck.

you forcefully planted your eyes onto his. "i... i don't like you," you affirmed with a small nod to hopefully get sunghoon to buy your poorly made lie.

sunghoon was now the one with a blank expression. "you know when you lie, you chew your cheek? you've done it twice now. and you won't me to believe you?"

"sunghoon!" you cried out of frustration. "stop making this harder than it needs to be!"

"that's on you, not me," sunghoon shrugged. you were officially considering smacking him in the head.

"oh my god... do you even really like me, you big phony?" you queried incredulously.

sunghoon dropped his antics and sent you a genuine smile. "more than you'll ever know. so don't be scared and let's face this together, hmm?"

seonwoo

no seonwoo :( he's so sulky and pouty. worse than jake if we're being real.

"ah, what are you talking about? i just told you i liked you! how can i stop?!" he argued, folding his arms and mending his brows in the only way he knew how to express his anger.

you open your mouth to respond but he continues to talk. seonwoo's hands begin to start flailing about. "also why would i stop? how?! you're so... likeable. gosh, everything is so good about you! you're so pretty, so funny, so smart, so talented... and you want me to stop? okay. fine. how about you stop bring pretty and good at everything? hmm? stop making me feel things and making me blush! how about that? huh?"

seonwoo, by now, has run out of steam. he's heavily breathing while lowkey glaring at you for suggesting something so stupid.

and you stand in front of him like, 0_0.

"seonwoo," you started, "i-i just meant... i'm scared for us because of your fans. and i worry for you. i know how you get when there's hate. you pretend it doesn't affect you but you're hurt, which is totally fine but that terrifies and hurts me too. i just wish you shared your problems with me if you felt comfortable enough to."

seonwoo's shoulder dropped at your words. he pursed his lips "oh."

you winced, feeling like you had made things too serious.

"ohhhhhh, that makes sense," he chirped, clapping his ands.

eh? all of a sudden?

seonwoo took a deep breath, calming himself down. he grabbed your hands, covering it with his own. "first of all, i'm so so sorry for worrying you. i promise you, i'll tell you how i'm feeling, hmm? and the fans... who cares? we don't need to care about anyone. just you and me."

jungwon

as the leader, he's used to being put in situations and having to adjust. but this... this puts jungwon off entirely.

because what are you talking about? he had worked up so much courage to tell you he liked you and you were telling him to just stop.

jungwon blinked, trying to process your words. he pressed his lips together, making his dimples pop out. he scratched his forehead. "so let me get this straight... tell me if i'm wrong. but you want me to stop like you? is that right? after i told you i liked you? are... are you okay? are you sick? do you need medicine?"

as humorous as the latter sounded, jungwon was entirely serious. his hand was raised to your forehead, feeling for your temperature. raising a brow, he said, "you don't feel hot..."

"jungwon," you blankly said, hand still on your forehead, "i am perfectly fine," you assured him.

jungwon removed his hand, falling into deeper thought. "then why? i mean, i could try but i'd fail because all i do is think about you. if i'm being honest, trying to stop liking you would be unrealistic and far too difficult for me. and in the most non-offensive way, i think you're lying. this isn't something you want. i know that because i know you like me too."

ah jungwon... always so straightforward. even now, he was making your cheeks flush.

jungwon shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "and if you're scared... i understand."

you lifted your head, eyes widening.

jungwon nodded to himself, realising he had hit the nail on it's head. "i'll give you space, if that's what you want. but i wish you would let me comfort you in these times. i would like to work through these problems with you. i would fight for you in a heartbeat."

jungwonnie ahhhhhh ♡︎

riki

maybe surprising, but despite being the youngest, he's probably the one who understands the most. he's still stubborn, don't get me wrong, but he knows exactly where you're coming from.

his entire career, from the moment he stepped onto i-land, people viewed him strangely. the boy from japan in korea or they saw him in a way that was unbecoming and made him comfortable. his experience with fans was always bittersweet. some enjoyed him for who he was while others were asking marry him when he was still a minor.

either way, riki stands by you like a rock. well, figuratively. he was actually currently sitting beside you in a park. "i'm not going to stop liking you, so you can stop trying to convince me. i'm going to stick by you. what do they say... through thick and thin? for better or for worse... in sickness and health? i'm going to draw boundaries for everyone so don't you worry about those 'fans.'"

at your silence, he turned to you, eye widening upon seeing the unshed tears in your waterline. that was not what he was going. quickly, he stood up from his seat and bent down in front of you. he held one of your hands and used his other to hold your face. "oh my god, i didn't mean to make you cry. i'm so sorry! please, stop. i don't like seeing you cry, especially because of me."

riki furrowed his brows upon hearing you laugh lightly and your body shake. he ducked his head further, trying to get a clear glimpse of your face. "i... you're laughing?" he asked incredulously.

you chuckled softly, putting both of your hands on his face. "riki, you idiot... i'm crying out of happiness. you're so sweet!"

riki's cheeks burned under your hands. he raised a brow, "me? sweet?" he questioned. he shrugged. "i mean i guess i am?" he said nonchalantly, making you hit him playfully.

he smiled, relieved to see you happy once again.

niki 🥹

© maeumi-jng | do not copy, post (repost is fine!) or translate anywhere else! thank you ♡︎ requests here!

[cheriladycl01]

No because that hurt me! Lando Norris x Girlfriend! Reader Part 2

Plot: Lando goes one step too far ...

As you'd promised you'd gone straight back to London, you thrown yourself into your work. You spent the days on the construction sight for the new house you were flipping, overseeing the progress. You spent the evenings in the studio working on more plans for the interior of the house.

But you did miss him, of course you missed him.

He was your person ...

Your guy...

The love of your life.

In the time that you'd come home however, videos had surfaced, many videos had surfaced...

The first was of you and Lando in the club, someone from a table across from the one your friends had been sat in showed how Lando had acted towards you and how his friends had tried to back you up. The next was of you running up to Alex, begging for a lift.

Afterwards, videos were leaked of the rest of Lando's night where he celebrated his win, by dancing with his friends and random girls that were being pulled into the big group. Nothing scandalous but enough to upset the fans who really liked you.

Later on, after the first few videos came out a video came out of Max Fewtrell and him arguing before him and Pietra left. Max actually pushed him a little and lots of hand gestures were flying round, but Lando looked just as angry as Max did.

Normally when you were in London, people knew they'd get content on your Instagram stories of you doing what you do best. People had suggested you to start a YouTube because your live's and reels were so funny that they'd definitely spend the time watching.

But you'd been dark since the argument with Lando and people were getting worried including Lando. So when you posted a titkok with your team, in the trend that AstonMartin did where the camera is up high above and you all do funny things, the media went crazy.

You then posted a video on instagram talking about the new house and the progress that was coming on.

"Hey guys! Y/N here! Just wanted to show you how the latest project is coming on. We've torn down the living room and put all new flooring in, which actually has built in underfloor heating which i think here in the UK is a real money move. We're going to hook it all up to a central network from the hallway as you walk in, which we finally finished the painting for that last week" you pan showing the round the areas you'd been talking about.

You showed you and one of the girls tearing down the kitchen.

Captioned 'Best Part of the Job, Free Rage Room', which is how you'd always referred to the demolition phase of house flipping. People on twitter of course took it out of context and rumors started flying that you and Lando had in fact called it splits, even one of those WAG update pages 'confirming' the breakup from close sources.

You'd found it laughable really, but you knew it would be hurting Lando, and no matter how much he hurt you ... you weren't a bitter person. You didn't want him hurting as well.

You were sat in your studio at your desk, sketching for the garden. The pen was currently in your mouth, sat back debating whether you should reach out to Lando or wait for him to come to you.

It had been three weeks at this point with no communication. You'd spoken to Lando's family, who had talked with you about everything that had happened. Cisca and Adam had apologized for their sons behavior.

As you were about to pick up your phone, caving in to messaging Lando first when you swore you wouldn't on knock on your wooden studio door sounds.

You frown, wondering who on earth would be coming to you at this time of the night. You weren't even open, office hours were long over. It was about 11pm, so your clients knew you weren't taking calls even though you were still here and working with a light on.

You open the door, bolt and latch on for added protection.

"Lando?" you ask seeing the curly haired boy, hoodie up and his eyes looking more tired than you'd ever seen them.

"You want to open up and let me in baby?" he asks softly, a slight crack to his voice.

"I was just about to call you" you admit, unlatching the door so it swings open fully. He stops just under the arch of the door observing you. It was like he was having a small inward debate with himself.

"Gonna cave coz you miss me?" he jokes, testing the waters. He didn't know how you were now that you'd have some time apart. He was hopeful that he could talk to you again and fix what had happened.

"Honestly yeah. I hate you and how much of a hold you have on me" you admit, leaning back into your chair directing him to the sofa.

"I came here, to say I'm sorry and that I was horrible to you. And I know it's not excuse but I want to explain what happened. In full... I think you deserve more than an explanation... but I think you need one for if we are ever going to go back to what we were" he sighs. He leans forward and takes your hand into his.

He explains how, after the race people told him you'd said you were leaving the race track. So he went to the hotel to find you, only for you not to be there, Max came round and said you were probably getting ready with the girls as P had told him you were all gonna meet them there.

"I didn't think this was too out of the ordinary for you, your especially close with P and Lily, and it wouldn't shock me if Kelly and Kika would drag you all into a girl pre-club party in their hotel room..." he laughs knowing that normally you and P would do each other's makeup when Max and her came to race weekends. Or you and Lily would switch outfit's loving to venture into each other's styles.

When he got to the club and no-one had seen you, and Pierre and Charles had come up to him with celebratory shots, he hadn't declined.

"The shots were the start of what slowly just went downhill, I don't think i ever want to drink that much again, I was so happy at the start" he laughs flushing red and the thought of him knocking back shots, which was rare considering he didn't like to drink. He wouldn't be doing it anytime soon that was for sure.

"You deserved to celebrate though baby, don't make it seem like you shouldn't have had a fun night" you admit, both of you were being open and mature adults right now. You were so glad you'd both spent some time apart to think before you fought more, now you were both talking and listening to each other and you couldn't help but think it was beautiful and intimate.

After the three hour mark he was fed up that you hadn't bothered to show up at such an important night for him. Talking to Charles and Pierre who were also drunk, weren't the best influences on suggesting places you could be. All of them being ones his drunk mind could picture vividly, his sober mind would have known his girl would never dream of doing that to him.

"Charles said some things and I know sober me would have known you wouldn't do that, but i was already angry thinking you'd just ditched me. I shouldn't have drunk as much and I know its no excuse... but" he starts and you nod.

"The main thing is you know how you would have acted. Yes you upset me, yes your hurt me because you said some horrible things to me..."

"Yeah, I've heard the video and It wasn't my intention to embarrass you the way I did, especially in front of our friends. I'm so so sorry!" he admits.

The other group, had tried to convince him that maybe you'd just got held up and thats where Oscar, Lily, Max and P had all messaged you.

"Baby, I'm so so sorry that i wasn't there for you after what happened!" he says tears in his eyes. This would forever be one of his biggest regrets in life, not being there for you when you needed him.

"How did you find out?" you gulp, not really wanting to think about what could have happened that night if it wasn't for the Mclaren Mechanics.

"Well, after having a scolding from Oscar, and Max, and Alex, and Zac... the mechanics also threatened to botch my pit stops. So i listened to what they did for you"

"Mmmm it was scary. All i wanted was you" you nod, rubbing a thumb across his hand.

"I'm so so sorry, I promised you that i'd protect you always. And I've failed!" he says with a little snivel and tears brimming his eyes.

"You've not failed, you just made a mistake, there's been some miscommunication and Charles and Pierre didn't help with their boyish meddling but ... we'll get there" you smile before pulling closer to him and nuzzling into his neck breathing in his sent.

"Do you think you'll ever forgive me?" he asks softly pulling you back so he can fully look at you.

"I already have, darling" you smile.

"What did i ever do to deserve you, I don't think i do" he smiles.

"Hmmmm, well I think the historians will argue one day its me who didn't deserve you" you sigh, brushing some of his hair back.

"I doubt that" he scoffs, knowing that when you first started dating, even with your lack of status people still thought you were too kind, too sweet and too innocent for someone as jokey and brash as Lando was seen to be.

"I've never had anyone treat me the way you do, I'm so so in love with you. And I don't ever want the feelings I have when i think of you and see you to stop. I feel like i can do anything when i have you by my side. Why do you think the first person i seeked out was you?" you offer, softly leaning in and placing a kiss on the corner of his lips.

You guys, talked more that night. About how you actually had fun helping the Mclaren boys pack up, regardless if you thought Lando had forgotten about you.

A week later and the media had picked up on the sighting the paps had got of both of you. Some fans had seen you both at a restaurant and make posts on it.

The comments bashed you either way, being between saying how silly you were for taking him back or the others saying they were upset you were back. It got to the point where you had to release a statement saying that you and Lando, are grown adults who can talk through the miscommunication and issues you'd experienced and were better for it now.

"I love you so much, and I'm never ever ever acting up like that again" he says as you help him do up his fire suit for the race you were currently at with him.

"I love you too, now go out and get another win for me baby so we can celebrate properly this time" you smile, kissing him before Jon comes forward asking for Lando's presence in the front of the garage.

A/N: I hope you guys think this did the first part justice as so many people requested a Part 2, so I'm really scared that this hasn't done it justice! If you want a rewrite with something better... something longer where its more of a series. Or where it goes the opposite way and it takes her longer to forgive him let me know. I just thought that Y/N and Lando in this one specifically would be the type to maturely talk about things!

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[sweetiecutie]

🖤Fuck or Die part 2🖤

Part 1

Pairing: slasher! König x fem! Reader

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, mdni, smut, non con so rape, violence, obsession, drugging, face-slapping and nose bleeding, choking, kidnapping, mention of murder. If you feel triggered by any of these warnings - just scroll past!

A/n: this took me way longer than I expected but yay, I finally wrote the second part!!! Also absolutely not me incorporating a quote from the movie bc I think it’s impossibly hot🤭

Reading part 1 is recommended for understanding the plot

Your life will never be the same. That damned evening changed you, everything around you, splitting your life into before and after.

Your memories of next few days after the murder were a sheer blur of events and conversations - numerous interrogations with police officers and detectives, psychologists trying to soothe you out of your stupor still, your mother crying her eyes out at the sight of you right after police arrived at the place of Paul’s death. And, of course, nasty journalists trailing behind you, watching your every move, invading your personal space unapologetically.

Of course, you were quite a catch - the first and only one who ever survived a meeting with König. Everyone wanted to know what he looked like - any particular details, scars or tattoos, a fucking skin colour - anything you could remember would be of huge use, giving at least any clues to a dead unmoving case. But there was very little you could help with - König took great care of covering every centimetre of his skin in black clothing, his voice changed, he smelled of nothing but earth and sickening metal of your boyfriend’s blood. Bastard was even smart enough to not cum inside nor anywhere actually, so that police couldn’t get his DNA samples.

A few months had passed since that horrific attack and there were still no traces of König.

It was midday when your parents had to leave to attend your grandma’s birthday - your mother was reluctant, not wanting to leave you all alone. You were never alone actually - a few police cars always patrolled right outside of your house, not allowing even postmen to get too close to your family’s property. It took a lot of reassuring and encouragement from your side to get your mother off your back, convincing her that you’ll be just fine by yourself and that you want your parents to have some fun. She then gave up with a deep sight, promising to be back in only a few hour’s matter.

You heaved a heavy sigh, closing and locking the front door after waving your parents goodbye, heading to the kitchen to grab yourself a drink. A pile of dirty dishes stacked in a sink caught your eye, the sight of its ugly mess on otherwise clean and tidy kitchen caused an itch somewhere deep in your brain. Without second thought you rolled up your sleeves, pouring dish soap onto the sponge and foaming it up.

As you were halfway through the dishes loud trilling of your landline phone calling startled you, causing you to jump on your spot. Your head whipped around, looking into direction from which the sound came. Wiping your wet hands on the kitchen towel you grabbed the phone, tucking it in between your ear and shoulder after accepting the incoming call.

- Hello? - you said, coming back to the sink, swiping foamy sponge over another plate, cleaning it of any grease and leftover bits of food.

- Hello! Um, can I speak to Paul? - your movements halted abruptly. You stood there silently for a long while, muscles stiff and unmoving, eyes staring blankly at some invisible point in the space before you.

- Excuse me, are you still here? Do I have the wrong number? - the man on the other end of the line said, his voice sounding concerned. It seemed to bring you out of your stupor as you drew in a long breath, exhaling noisily.

- Um, can I ask you how you got this number? - you said, already sensing something weird about this whole situation. But cops were all around your place, there was nothing to be worried about, right?

- Paul gave it to me himself. Said to call here if I needed to reach out to him, - man explained. That was strange but not unexplainable - Paul often hang out at your house, you wouldn’t be surprised if he knew your home phone number better than his own. - So am I calling right?

- Oh, yeah, sorry it’s just… Paul’s dead, - you said, teeth sinking into the inside of your cheek, sweet metallic taste coating your buds, but you couldn’t care less, nibbling deeper into small wound, feeling of slight pain grounding you successfully.

- Oh god, what happened? I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. But who am I speaking to then? - the man said, his voice now sounding genuine and apologetic. Everyone around Y/n suddenly sounded genuinely and apologetic. She heaved another sigh, resuming her scrubbing on the plates.

- He was murdered. And I’m his girlfriend, - you said in a calm tone, free of any emotion or feeling. Paul’s death was pretty much the only thing you talked about with others - police, detectives, police again, his parents and friends, your parents and friends. It seemed like such a sensitive topic turned into a rough callous way too quickly. - Well, I was his girlfriend, - Y/n mumbled after a short pause, faint clatter of porcelain audible in the background.

- Sorry about your boyfriend, - man on the line said. There was a brief moment before he added: - all those muscles didn’t help much, did they?

You froze. Silence settled in, interrupted only by occasional electric noise humming through the speaker. You heard your own pulse humping rapidly in your ears, your breathing fast and shallow, all muscles in your body tensing in alarm, straightening your back. Your eyes shoot up, looking out of the window above the sink. There were a few trees growing shallowly - barely an orchard - separating your house from your neighbours. No one was there.

- What’s that, sweet girl? You can’t see me? - a voice taunted, erupting herds of goosebumps running down your spine. - What a shame, I can see you clear as day.

- Neighbourhood is packed full with cops, you sick son of a bitch. If you only fucking dare coming anywhere close to my ho-

- Now-now, Y/n, - slasher interrupted you unapologetically, his voice hard and cold, causing thin hairs on your arms to rise. - Control your fucking language when you speak to me.

Your eyes dropped down onto the sink, fluffy dish soap foam was sparkling, playing with all the rainbow colors under the sun rays pouring in through the window. You clasped the phone in your non dominant hand, your dominant one reaching out and grabbing a kitchen knife from the drying rack, handle still wet and a bit slippery in your grasp.

- My, my, a dangerous thing that you’re holding. Be careful and don’t cut yourself, dearie, - König taunted, making your teeth clench. All blood drained out of your face, making you as pale as paper. Your eyes were fixated upon your window, peering into the orchard, desperately trying to spot any movement.

- What are you planning on doing? Everyone will hear if I scream. And cops will get your ass into prison, right where it belongs, - you spat out, pushing off the counter; your eyes ran all around the kitchen, looking for your cell phone with detective’s number saved, trying to keep the current call going so it’ll be possible to track it down.

- Oh will they? Then you better not scream, silly, - König snorted, making your blood boil. You were frightened still, terrified even; but the remorse of what he did to you, to Paul, was fuelling into your spite, making you a tad bit braver.

Failing to find your phone you entered the living room, rummaging through cushions and blankets piled on the couch, failing to find the stupid thing.

- Looks like you lost something. What’s up sweetheart? - you threw soft cushion back on the couch violently, huffing in annoyance upon not finding what you were looking for. You straightened and turned around to head to your bedroom, stoping in the middle of your tracks, freezing to the spot.

In the doorway leading to the hall stood König - dressed in all black, with heavy leather boots and his huge dagger strapped firmly to his thigh with a sheath, white scream mask staring right back at you. One large hand was pressing the phone to his ear, the other one was holding up your cellphone - the exact one you were looking for.

- You looking for this? - he asked, his own voice reverberating on the line because of your proximity.

You threw the phone to the side clutching onto the knife tightly. You dashed to the kitchen - there was a back door you could slip through - and outside was filled with neighbours and cops. Just pathetic six or so meters. Just a bit…

A scream tearing through your throat was muffled by a huge hand clamping against your mouth, the other one squeezing your wrist so tightly that for a fleeting moment you thought your bones were snapped, causing your grip on the knife to loosen, it falling down on the floor with loud clatter. König kicked the knife away across the kitchen, folding your arm back which caused your back to arch in pain - it felt as if he wanted to tear your limb from the rest of your body.

- Where do you think you’re going, Y/n? - König growled next to your ear, picking you up effortlessly and dragging your kicking form back to the living room.

Hauling you onto the floor König hooked one meaty thigh over your squirming body, putting bigger part on his weight down onto you, momentarily halting all of your struggle. One huge hand took ahold of both your wrists, pinning them to the floor above your head with frightening ease, his other hand was clasping your mouth still. He crouched down, scream mask was mere fifteen centimetres afar from your face as he seethed:

- Now you shut the fuck up and listen closely to what I have to say, and no one will get hurt, you get that? - he said, waiting until you gave him any sing of agreement. But you offered none. - You get that?! - König growled impatiently, bumping your head against the hardwood floor, causing black spots dance in the corners of your eyes for a long minute. You gave a weak nod, feeling hot tears running down your temples, getting lost among your hair.

- I’ve been thinking about you. A lot, - König sighed, hand that was on your face squished your cheeks together painfully, making your lips pucker out. - About this gorgeous mouth and pretty lips…

König crouched down, barely leaving a few centimetres between your faces.

- A this tight little cunt of yours. Remember how you clenched around me? How good my cock was filling you up?

- What do you want from me? - you weeped quietly, voice barely audible, broken by faint sobs and hiccups.

- Very little, dove. Just be an obedient girl and do as you’re told and no one will get hurt, - König tutted, taking in the sight of your crying face. Gosh, he was a sick fuck - his cock was already getting painfully hard, straining against his pants.

Letting go of your face König reached behind his back, withdrawing something from the rear pocket of his jeans. Just as you opened your mouth to cry out for help he shoved that thing inside of your cavity, slapping a hand over your lips so you won’t spit it out. The thing momentarily dissolved on your tongue, leaving a bitter aftertaste; you tried to struggle against killer’s strong hold, thrashing violently, but it led you nowhere.

Suddenly you felt hot - as if you had a really bad fever. Your mind clouding up rapidly, thoughts muddling, muscles becoming weaker by the second. You huffed out in frustration; moving your limbs a few centimetres seemed like impossible labour. World was spinning around you, blurring sharp and distinguishable features of König’s mask into a white haze.

König let go of your face once again, his now free hand slid down your body, cupping your sex through numerous layers of clothing separating you two. Sudden pleasure surged through your weakened body upon the contact; a loud moan that rolled off your tongue startled you - and suddenly you realised just how aroused you felt.

- Jeez, that dude didn’t lie about this shit, - König laughed out excitedly, watching your eyes widen in terror. You could barely move by now, not speaking of trying to fight off a man twice your size. His size. In a blur of all events, words and pain you never came back to just how fucking huge he was. You never mentioned that in any of your interrogations. How fucking stupid, huh?

Killer let go of your wrists cautiously, watching you closely - you rose your hands, resting your palms on his chest and pushing with all the might you had left, but it wasn’t enough to even push a cat off the chair - so that was the limit of your strength in this state?

König barked out another laugh - he was going to have so much fun with you! His hand never stopped massaging your crotch, noting a small wet patch forming on your shorts - you were soaked through your panties and now soaking your shorts? Gosh, he better buy a few dozens of these aids. Psycho’s eyes shot up to your face upon hearing a sob - tears ran down your eyes like small diamonds, turning your eyelids a pretty shade of red. König shifted forth so that his mask was almost touching your nose:

- Oh baby, I’ll be much gentler with you this time, I promise, - König cooed, pressing cold plastic of his mask against your flushed wet cheek, as if giving you a comforting peck.

Slasher shifted a bit, changing his position from sitting on your thighs to being in between them, yanking you towards him by your knees. He did quick job of taking your shorts and underwear off in few fluid moves, impatiently discarding them somewhere to the side. König felt his heavy cock twitch inside his jeans at the sight of your puffy cunny, all shiny from slick that practically oozed out of your fluttering hole. He swallowed hard, saliva was practically pooling in his mouth, having to restrain himself from tearing his mask off and devouring your cunt, exposing his face too early. You whined out something unintelligible, still trying to pry his fingers off one of your knees.

Your skin felt hot even through thick fabric of his gloves, so when König took one off and plunged two of his thick fingers inside of your tight hole he was surprised at how hot it was inside of you - one of the drug’s effects, he guessed. You couldn’t help but mewl at the pleasant feeling, your brain barely functioning, controlling yourself was beyond hard.

- That’s it, sweetness. Lemme hear all the pretty sounds you make, - König encouraged, plunging his fingers in and out of you, increasing the pace. Rough thumb coming to circle your slicked clit, causing your whole body to jolt softly. Scent of your pooling arousal was strong and prominent, seeping even through König’s mask, making him throb in his pants.

He couldn’t wait any longer. König was dreaming about your pussy being spread around his cock since that first night, he needed to be inside or else he’ll lose the remnants of his mind. Slasher slipped his fingers out of you, quickly undoing his pants, sliding them down as much as knife holster on his thigh would allow. Your breathing increased as you tried to close your legs, man’s bulky form making it impossible for you to do so.

- No, no please.. not again, - you begged, tears rushing down your temples, your voice meek and barely audible, so König just ignored it.

Pulling his girthy cock out König pumped it a few times with gloved hand, aligning pink swollen tip with your leaking entrance. It one smooth movement he bottomed out half of his impressive length, your body - flushed and pliant - taking him inside without any resistance. Low groan rumbled through his broad chest; König’s head fell backwards, hands gripping soft fat of your thighs, leaving pale marks of his fingertips on your skin.

You hated every second of it. Hated how his hips collided with yours with every thrust, how you felt him throb and twitch inside of you; hated how his hands wandered up and down your sides, rubbing your waist and palming your tits. And you hated how fucking good it felt. Hated how your body, despite all your attempts to resist, to fight off the effects of the drug, gave into the pleasure.

- That’s it baby. Just take what I give you, - König breathed out, his words slurred with pleasure. - See? See how good it can feel when you shut the fuck up and do what I tell you to? Just be a obedient little girl and feel good, I’ll take care of everything else yeah?

It felt as if a ball of bile got stuck in your throat; your face scrunched up in disgust as much as your jelly muscles allowed it:

- Fuck you, - you barely managed to choke out, your tongue struggling to form right sounds.

For a few moments you were sure König didn’t hear you, given the lack of any reaction nor acknowledgement of your words. But the next thing you knew was searing pain in your left cheek, the impact of man’s wide palm with your face jolted your head to the side, sudden change of its position made you felt dizzy. Now world was spinning around you even more so, you felt something warm trickling down your cheek - blood from your nose, you figured. Killer’s fingers roughly gripped your chin, yanking it back so that you were facing him once again.

- You wanna say that again bitch? Come on, I fucking dare you, - he spat out, movements of his hips halting completely, leaving his cock buried deep inside of your rippling warmth.

Your head shifting so harshly once again made you nauseous; you could barely see anything, dark purple circles were dancing all around, changing their shapes and giving way to greens and yellows to flood your vision.

- That’s what I fucking thought, - König gritted out. His hand let go of your chin, coming lower to wrap strong fingers around your neck. His hips started working with even more vigour, forcing his dick in and out of your drugged cunt on the pace that was almost inhuman.

Firm clasp of maniac’s hand around your neck made it nearly impossible to breathe. Both your hands wrapped around his mighty wrist, too weak to actually get him off you. Your vision started to darken rapidly, white noise trilling in your ears, barely allowing any other sounds to filter through.

- From the very moment I laid my eyes on you I fucking owned you. And I own you right now, and forever will. This is my fucking cunt, and I’ll use it whenever I want to. And I need you to fucking. learn. it. - König growled out, emphasising each of his last words with hard deep thrusts of his hips against yours, his cock making your stomach bulge, surely bruising your cervix.

- Oh but I’ll train you. Mould you into my personal cocksleeve, ready to be used whenever I feel like it, - his pace was quickening, thick cotton of his denim pants muffled filthy sounds of his mighty hips snapping against your ass. The grip of strong fingers never eased; König shifted part of his weight onto his hands which were wrapped around your neck, white mask hovering right in front of your face - milky white of it was a harsh contrast to blackness pooling in the corners of your eyes.

With that your conscience started to slip away. You felt your body jolt with every ferocious thrust of man’s hips, his cock buried deep inside of you, bruising your insides with its persistent bullying. Acute lack of oxygen burnt your lungs, and you prayed to all gods that König held your neck a tad bit too long - just enough for you to not wake up the next time. And just before you slipped into heavy delirium, your mushed up brain picked up König’s growl, penetrating through thick noise humming in your ears:

- You’re mine. Forever and ever.

Street was filled with all kinds of noise - sirens from police cars were going off triggering dogs from nearby houses, neighbours were crowding a bit afar, frowning and shaking their heads, everyone having their own theory of what happened. Loud cries of Y/n’s mother shook the air, putting everyone further on the edge. She is such a sweet girl, she’s never done anything bad! Oh god, why is this happening to her of all people?!

Some people were saying that the girl simply snapped, breaking under the pressure of events and finally fleeting the country without telling anyone to not give any clues about her whereabouts to the killer. Some said she just went out to unwind from being constantly watched by police and have some alone time - she’ll show up anytime soon. But everyone knew that it was one of murderer’s deeds - he did something to her. And everyone knew, deep down, that they’ll never see Y/n again - alive, at least.

A young lanky policemen, obviously green and not experienced in his job, was babbling out his report to the superior, all the other cops that were patrolling with him as well stood around silently, too scared to pipe in.

- Sir, I swear we were patrolling the area all this time, there was literally no one but the neighbours, but they were staying at their pro-

- Then you were not doing it well enough! - city commissioner barked out, his mighty vice silencing everyone around for a short moment. His face was red, fuming with rage; nostrils flaring with intensity of his heavy breathing, angry vein popped up on his temple, pulsating in tandem with his rapid heartbeat. His heavy gaze shifted between all the poor officers, their faces pale as chalk.

- You had one fucking job. ONE fucking job - to keep the girl in the sightline - and where is she now, huh? I’m asking you motherfuckers - where is Y/n?! - Mr. Lindner barked out, his heavy voice making everyone jolt. Younger officers stared down on their shoes blankly, not daring to meet eyes with their boss.

- You may consider yourselves lucky if you’ll still have your licences by the end of the week, - commissioner Lindner tsked, spitting onto the ground in remorse. Turning around, he headed to his police issued car, shouldering all those nosy ones who were brave enough to approach him in this state. Getting inside Mr. Lindner closed the door with a loud bang, starting the engine and pulling out of the driveway onto the main road.

Commissioner Lindner drove in full silence, blue eyes fixated on the road ahead; it was barely past midnight, but the darkness hung thick all around, being slit by two yellow rays of his car’s headlights. He gripped steering wheel tighter, one hand coming to comb back his grown out hair out of his eyes, a small smile played in the corners of his scarred lips.

Soon he’ll be home - maybe the effects of drugs will wear off by that time and he’ll watch Y/n wake up slowly, those pretty doe eyes of hers gazing up at him drowsily. He will cook her dinner - all of her favourites - and maybe even spoon feed her, if she’ll allow it. Then he’ll bathe her and tuck her in her new bed, locking up the door for the night and watching her sleep through the cameras.

Everything was going as smoothly as ever. No one has accidentally seen him dragging unconscious Y/n out of her house and hauling her into the backseat of his car. No signs of struggle or fight were found - kitchen sink was still half-filled with soapy water and dirty dishes, clean ones drying off on the countertop, a knife with all the fingerprints being drowned among other dirty utensils. Y/n’s parents approved that everything was on its original place - as if the girl just disappeared, dissolved into thin air.

No one suspected a thing. And, of course, no one suspected a respectable city commissioner Lindner with years upon years of experience, a veteran with impeccable reputation, a person no one could speak badly of.

This was the beginning of your new life, life in which everything revolved around König, causing you to cling onto him as if he was some kind of goddess. Life in which you no longer belonged to yourself, but to your abductor. Life in which you finally understood that you don’t need anyone or anything else because you had König, understood that König was your life itself <3

Slasher! König Masterlist

A/n: I apologise for giving König a half assed name, but I thought it’d be really cool for the plot😌

Once again, feedback is highly appreciated! I’m making this a series so feel free to send in your suggestions for more slasher! König content<3

[jennifer-jeong]

Guess who😊

As a reference to what you posted earlier, imagine that after the reader dies of old age, Xiao and Scaramouche encounter a reincarnation of themselves? It's your choice to make them mortal or not (I'm under your bed. If you make them mortal I will kick your feet at night.)

Take your time dear <3

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG FJDKSLA;FJDSA; life has been kicking my ASS but fuck it we ball HELLO MY MUTUAL THANK YOU FOR YOUR REQUEST, I’ve honestly been thinking hard because I want to also request some ideas because your writing is so sweet ehehehe OK PLEASE DON’T KICK MY FEET AT NIGHT THAT’S HORRIFYING - I WILL MAKE THE REINCARNATION IMMORTAL

ALSO @iota1111 these are my ideas for that Xiao and Wanderer angst! If you read only to the *** in each fic, that would be where I’d end the story if it wasn’t meant to be a happy ending! (I would suffer!!!!)

Fluff + Angst | Xiao/Wanderer x GN!Reader Reincarnation

CONTENT Angst to fluff, happy ending, reader death, mentions of death, mentions of fighting/them taking their anger out on things

XIAO

When you passed away, Xiao was absolutely heartbroken. He knew it was coming, he prepared for it, he stayed by your side through your deteriorating health in your last few months. But no matter what, he knew it would destroy him, and it did.

No one saw Xiao for weeks after but everyone noticed that Liyue was safer than ever. Xiao engrossed himself in his work. Taking out his emotions onto the monsters in Liyue. He worked himself to exhaustion every single day. Zhongli still came to check up on him but knew Xiao just needed time.

He didn’t know what to do with himself. What was he supposed to do? You were gone. HIs sunshine, his muse, his… everything.

Xiao collapsed after giving himself no rest for who knows how many nights. Laying in the grass, he stared up at the moon. Asking himself what he could’ve done differently and if he could’ve "selfishly" extended your life. If he could’ve made you immortal like him.

He listened to the bugs chirp around him, the breeze drying the tears he didn’t know were falling. For the first time in a long time, he cried. He sobbed and bit back the urge to lash out at everything in the vicinity. He was on his side, clutching his aching heart, crying into the soft grass he used to lay on with you.

He had gone through so much pain in his life: his karmic debt, the abuse from his old master, losing his found family, and all the years of deafening solitude.

But nothing would ever hurt more than losing you.

Xiao cried his heart out and knocked out from the exhaustion and pain. He slept peacefully for the first time since you passed. *** Xiao woke up the next morning with a start. Confused and disoriented not because of where he had fallen asleep, but because he sensed something insane.

He sensed you.

It was your soul, the one he swore himself to. There was no denying it. Was this a sick joke? Was some old evil spirit messing with him?

It had been months since your passing but there was no denying it. It was you.

Unfortunately, years would pass while Xiao searched for you. He was obsessed over it at first but once he could tell that your soul was safe and alive, he relaxed just a little. He still wanted to see you again, hold you, and whisper how much he loved you, but he knew you’d find each other eventually. He made himself a silent promise that he’d find you no matter what. He didn’t really have much else to do for all of eternity anyways.

Xiao confided in Zhongli through these years, the elder god revealing the possibility of reincarnation, revealing that it’s not uncommon. Souls return to the Earth in many forms but he hints to Xiao that he believes what he’s sensing is indeed you in human form.

Eventually, Xiao would be on a typical nightly patrol, sensing your soul nearby as always. But it was a bit different today. It was stronger.

As if right on cue, Xiao entered a clearing and despite it being nighttime, he saw the sun.

His beautiful sun had somehow risen again against all odds. You didn’t know his name but you knew his soul.

He recognized the sigil on your clothing, it belonged to an adeptus master he hadn’t seen in decades. The draconic horns on your head told him you were reborn in a different body, an immortal body. One that had you trained as an adepti for these past years, likely hidden away in a domain. It clicked in his head. It’s why he could always sense you, but never quite find where you were.

You turned around after feeling his approach. He wondered if you could feel his soul the way he felt yours. If you longed for him even in your new existence. He had so much to ask. But you pulled him out of his noisy thoughts.

Your voice brought him serenity he had long forgotten.

His heart pounded as you spoke.

“I missed you, my love.”

Instantly you were in each other's arms.

“I missed you too,” he says as his voice cracks.

WANDERER

He was angry, reverting back to how he was before Nahida, the traveler, and you helped him. He blamed the gods, the world, for his sorrows, for his pain. He sought to destroy it all again for somehow making his suffering worse. He had felt pain similar to this. It was all too familiar for him. The constant cycle of loss, betrayal, and agony. But this time, he was on the brink of insanity.

You, his perfect flower, had finally wilted.

He’s stuck bargaining for months, reverting between stages of grief: anger and bargaining. Never able to move on past that.

He continues on his missions for Nahida because he knows it’s what you've wanted but also because he didn’t know what else to do with himself. Any of his combat missions turned into tortures and near assassinations. He used it as a tool to cool himself off, much to the silent disapproval of Nahida. But she knew he’d never disobey your wishes, your morals. You taught him better than to kill out of emotion.

Wanderer commonly visits the forests where you two used to adventure to find some sort of peace and familiarity. He tends to avoid the Aranara despite the fact that they know about your passing and would probably be able to comfort him about it. He just didn’t think he could handle it.

Seasons pass and on one of his trips into the sunny lush forests, growing again due to the spring season, Aranara bring him your favourite flowers when they bloom again the next year. They loved you dearly too, you treated them and the forest with such gentleness that they could never forget you. They didn’t know how to approach him earlier so they used this opportunity instead.

His heart ached and his anemo vision surged with energy when he saw the flower. He finally reached his breaking point, he fell to his knees on the grass and sobbed, clutching the flower to his chest. Letting go of all the stupid anger and bargaining. Who was he kidding, he just didn’t want to accept that he’d have to keep going without you. *** The Aranara tell him not to worry though, comforting and telling him it will be okay. At first he’s confused as to what they mean but Nahida walks out into the sunlit clearing, the sun about to start setting.

She tells him she knows it hurts but that the Irminsul has a message for him and it says that he should not fret and continue to live on and explore the forest. His tear stained face raised an eyebrow but it slowly turned to determination, he knew Irminsul would not lie.

It would take years but he slowly started to feel you nearby. He’d dream of you. The forest felt like you and he could feel your energy in the flora. He confided in Nahida and their bond only grew stronger, he’d also reach out to the Aranara when he’d adventure out of the city.

Eventually, the Aranara prepared and held a ceremony, sensing the birthing of something new, a nature spirit. Nahida described it using the term “nymph.”

Wanderer was silent as he put the pieces together. He held his breath as he realized it might be you. Your reincarnation.

He always saw you as his flower, but he didn’t think you’d become a nature spirit, he was not complaining about it in the slightest though.

Nahida explained that you would exist in the physical realm but had strong ties to the dream realm, you’d be immortal like Aranara are but you’d still be able to live with him in the physical.

As you manifested and blinked open your eyes, you immediately looked at him.

His hands were shaking, unsure if he was scared, happy, both? Was it really you? Had the world finally decided to grant him happiness instead of sorrow? Was this a gift?

But as you took gentle steps towards him, he realized something important:

It didn’t matter.

You were here again, in front of him. Nothing else mattered.

You reached out to hold his face with your hands. You knew him, you knew your soul belonged to him and his to you.

He drew in closer to you, holding your face and touching your foreheads together, tears threatening to fall.

Your beautiful voice spoke to him again in what felt like an eternity. He had almost forgotten what you sounded like.

“Don’t cry my love, I’m here.”

His eyebrows scrunched as his tears fell. He wraps his arms around you tight, never wanting to let go, scared you’d leave him again.

“I missed you so much,” he whispered shakily, scared that his voice would fail if he tried to speak.

“I missed you too. I’m here to stay.”

|| MASTERLIST ♡ || Thank you for reading! ||

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

Summary: You are baking a cake for Bucky's birthday, but he is far more interested in the icing.

Word Count: 1,454

Warnings: nsfw, smut, oral sex (female receiving), slightly dom Bucky

“I’m not sure that you need to go through all this effort for me.”

“Of course you’re worth the effort, babe! Plus I promised everyone that they would get their favorite cakes, so now I have to deliver.”

“So essentially this isn’t for me, it’s for everyone else.” Bucky’s destructive thoughts getting the better of him, even on this auspicious day.

You put down all your baking equipment and turned to face your boyfriend, hands on your hips. “Now you listen to me, this party is to celebrate your presence on this Earth. I could not be more grateful for that. And if it means making cake to make everyone happy, I will do just that. Understood?”

Bucky nodded meekly, smiling.

The oven timer pinged letting you know that the cakes you’d baked were ready. It had been the aroma of said cakes that had attracted Bucky to the kitchen in the first place. You pulled out the fresh batch of cupcakes; they looked perfect. You were glad you’d hung out with your sister when she baked. She was a chef and made the most wonderful desserts. Bucky reached out to pick up one of the cupcakes, but you swatted his hand away.

“Not yet, you’ll ruin your appetite. Lunch first, cake is for the party. Plus you snack entirely too much and neglect your vegetables terribly.”

Bucky pouted. Why did he look so adorable when he did that? You weren’t sure if he knew how you felt about his pout, but he most certainly took advantage of that fact. You resisted his attempts at sympathy, with difficulty. Getting to work, you found the icing covering not only the cakes, but your fingers and for some reason, your face. Bucky watched you make a mess all over the kitchen counter, a mess you knew he wouldn’t help clean up. After a good half hour of creative icing and uttering a variety of profanities, you dropped two little sweets into the last cupcake.

“The sweets are meant to represent eyes,” you informed Bucky, admiring the little faces on each individual cupcake.

“I see,” was all he had to say.

“Buck, remind me never to offer to make a cake for anyone ever again.”

“I wish I were the kind of person who could stop myself from saying ‘I told you so,’ but I’m not. I told you it was a bad idea.”

If looks could kill, Bucky wouldn’t stand a chance in hell.

“Any chance you’ll help me clean this up?” You nodded at the clutter, hands held out in front of me, like a surgeon who had just scrubbed up.

“Of course,” Bucky said.

You were surprised by his answer, that is until you saw the smirk on his face. Bucky took your hand and placed your thumb in his mouth, sucking the icing clean off your skin. He worked his way across one hand, taking your whole finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue around your digits, sucking at the tips, the whole time looking directly into your eyes. Your breathing was heavy, panties already soaked with anticipation. Bucky leaned towards your face and you looked up in response, expecting a kiss. As he got closer, rather than aiming for your lips, Bucky licked your chin. You hadn’t even noticed that there had been icing there! He kissed you, hard, tongue in your mouth, you could taste the icing on his.

“Easy there, cream puff,” you said as Bucky pressed against you again. “You’re going to ruin the cupcakes!”

“The cupcakes are fine!” Bucky peered around you to check. In the process he noticed the tube of icing, which he grabbed excitedly.

“You’re not going to eat directly from that are you?”

“No, that wasn’t my intention. But my birthday, my choice!” Bucky quirked an eyebrow and looked you up and down. Your eyes widened as you realized what he wanted.

“Really?” you asked.

Bucky nodded and motioned you over to the couch where he stripped you of your clothes. It didn’t take long, you were only wearing shorts and one of his old t-shirts.

“Lie down.” It wasn’t a question, it was a command, a command you obeyed instantly.

Bucky climbed on top of you, straddling your hips. You noticed that his bulge was much more prominent than normal. He still had the tube of icing in his hand.

“Open your mouth,” he said.

You did.

Bucky squirted some icing onto your tongue, it tasted divine. Closing your eyes, you moaned, your chest rose as you took a deep breath.Bucky cupped one of your breasts and using the tube, drew a spiral of icing around your nipple. He moved over to the other side and did the same. You watched his eyes as he worked, they had a hungry, excited look which made you tingle. Bucky shuffled down your body until he was sitting between your legs. He disposed of his shirt and pants, leaving only his boxers and the clear signs of his arousal.

He leaned over your naked form and slowly licked the icing from you with the broad flat of his tongue. The sensation was almost explosive, even more so now that he had started to grind his hips against yours. You were starting to feel a little desperate for some skin contact. You ran your fingers through Bucky’s hair and tugged at it gently as he sucked on your other nipple.

“Bucky, is that all you’re going to be eating today?” you asked, breathily.

Bucky looked up at you and smiled wickedly, “not at all, Doll.” And with that he moved further down the couch, taking your legs in his hands and pushing them apart. He took one quick glance at your face before plunging his tongue between your folds and caressed your clit.

You cried out in pleasure, “Oh God, Bucky.”

“Doll, you taste better than the icing.”

All you could manage was a moan in response. Bucky laughed again and climbed up to your face, his whole body weight pressed against you.

“You’re not done already are you?” you asked.

“No, that was just the appetizer. I’m here for the three course meal.”

“Well you’ve certainly wet my appetite. Now get off me, I want a taste too.”

Bucky got up and pulled you to your feet. You stood face to face while you ran your fingers all over his body, placing kisses in places you knew got him excited.

“Do you want to try some of the icing?” Bucky asked as you pulled down his boxers.

“I prefer salty over sweet.” you replied, stroking him. “Why don’t we have the main course in the bedroom?”

Bucky took your hand and led the way. He lay down on the bed and you quickly brought him to his full potential with some well placed kisses and caresses. Before either of you knew what was happening, he was inside you, pushing gently at first, allowing you to adjust to his size. It wasn’t really necessary, you were ready.

“Hurry up Buck, I’m so ready for dessert.”

He was more than happy to oblige. Your hips clashed together as he pushed into you hungrily. Your hands seemed to be everywhere, greedily stealing every delicious sensation.

Suddenly Bucky slowed down. “You ready?”

His question confused you at first, but then you felt him throbbing inside you and realized that he was almost finished. You loved that about Bucky, he was always willing to wait for you, he wanted you to finish together. You shook my head. You were close, but you needed a little more stimulation. You reached down to help yourself, but Bucky got there first.

“Just tell me when, okay?” he said.

You nodded. It didn’t take much long after that, after a minute you were screaming at him that you were on the edge. He started pounding into you furiously. You clenched around him, waves of pleasure crashing through your body. Bucky threw his head back and swore as he emptied his load into you, ecstasy pumping through him with his orgasm. Bucky collapsed beside you, both of you breathing heavily. You lay together in silence trying to catch your breath, savoring the remnants of the bliss you’d brought each other.

Bucky spoke up first. “So you ready for dessert?”

You looked at him incredulously. “It’s your birthday, not mine!”

“I could really do with some cake.” Bucky wiggled his eyebrows.

“Fuck, the cakes!” You’d forgotten to put them in the fridge. You practically fell off the bed as you rushed into the kitchen to make sure your hard work had not been a waste of time. You heard Bucky’s low rumbling laughter float after you.

[hwathinker]

"aww, why are you crying baby? come on, i'm gonna take a break now can i?"

pairings ; best friend!yunho x fem!reader warnings ; i don't think there is.. (i'm joking.. there's cockwarming, blowjobs(?), petnames) just yunho being a tease and annoying.. i really love the cocky + nerdy concept on yunho ;) wn ; hey! i finally got a free time today, so i decided to spend it on writing something. i'll be taking requests by the way! i'm hoping to see some smutty reqs from ya'll hahaha

"come on y/n, its not that hard to memories these shit." yunho said, poking your head which was buried to the book you were supposed to read. you had spent over an hour in his apartment, just for a study session. you also promised yourself to study for real this time but i guess the tiredness and laziness in you held you back. you shook your head aggressively, making him stop touching you. "y/n, we have a really tight schedule and i know you know that. plus our presentation is in 3 days. spend your time studying so you won't have to struggle to go out with me." you shot your head up as soon as yunho mentioned about going out. your parents doesn't really let you go out unless you do something great in school. but with pleasing them by doing house chores, you know you could get out easily. well, not every time.

"ugh.. how many times do i have to read these?!" pointing at the open book, you looked at him. "if you really want me to memories this then how about you?" you held the book up close to your face, shooting your eyes up to him then at the book back to make sure he isn't peeking. yunho sighed, letting go of his pen and turning to you. he looked at the book title, making a face to remember something. "well, physics huh.. what page are you in?" he asked, shifting his body and putting his arm on the table so that he can rest his head on his fist with his cheeks. you quickly went to the first page, knowing that he doesn't pay that much attention on a first page of a book. "uh.. page one. i'm not telling you what it is though." you said, burying your head to the book once again and shifting you gaze between the book and yunho every 4 seconds. yunho smiled, pretending to remember what was on the first page. "physics is the natural science of matter, involving the study of matter, its fundamental constituents, its motion and behavior through space and time, and the related entities of energy and force." you read what was on the page along with what he said, your eyes slowly going wide as he do.

"the fuck?! how in the earth did you remember every damn word in this one ass page?!" you slammed the green book on the table, going up close to him with rage in you. "i don't know, maybe i started to pay attention to the first page now. or maybe not, because i'm smart." he said, going back to his position and continue his revision. "or maybe.. you could help cover for me?" you said, leaning your head on the table as you puppy eyed him as you smile. yunho gave you a silent answer, which was a no. "come on yun, i know you like obeying me." you teased again, smiling ever so widely. "how about you study or i fuck that mouth off." he shift his gaze to you, placing down the pen under his palm.

you pouted, covering your face with your hand. yunho let out a small chuckle, grabbing you by your waist to get you more close. "i've never seen you this shy, y/n. you always fight back my teasings." he said, laying head head on the table too, close to your covered face. "i'd rather have a cock inside me for long enough than having to suck one that has a possibility of piss on it." you mumbled, hoping he won't hear a single thing when he's just right there, in front of you. yunho took your hand away from your face, meeting his eyes that was already staring at you. "do you want to try?" he bit his bottom lip, smiling lightly. you think, furrowing your eyebrows and pouting your lips. "i don't know. so you're hard?" you looked at his reddening face as your hand quickly went to his.. harden clothed dick. oh he is. yunho slaps your hand away quickly, holding them in his big ones. "suck it." he ordered, watching your smile grew wider. "why so needy? were you already planning this all along?" you said, shifting closer to him so there's no more space between the both of you. "sure. i'll do it. but you'll have to do a favor for me, too." you said again,getting up from the table and wait for him to strip. he stood up, sliding his sweats down and place them beside the table. but this time, he went to the sofa, sitting on it then leaning comfortably back while manspreading.

you looked at him with lust, his tongue going over his bottom lips, wetting them then biting them afterwards. he watches you walk towards him, your knee purposely hitting his crotch as you lean in to give his jaw a nice lingering kisses, to his lips. "how long have you been keeping this from me, hm?" you mumbled in the kiss, enjoying his taste. "ever since you appeared like a damn angel in front of me and decided to become my friend." he held your jaw with his hand, caressing them. you ran your hand from his bicep, down to his chest. gently touching every part as possible to make him shudder. you pulled away from the kiss, going down as he watches your every move. your tits, holding onto its dear life in the top you had. it looked like it want to pop out in any second you make a risky move. and your tight low rise jeans. ah, don't mention it anymore. he loves it when you wear that kind of clothes.

after you had took off his boxer, his dick sprung out, precum leaking to his base. "fuck, who are you going big for? me?" you said, grabbing his cock gently, kissing the pink aching tip. he hissed in pleasure, throwing his head back. "who else do i have to keep this dick for? of course it was for you, angel." oh god, that nickname has you every time. you licks his cock slowly, going down and fitting the whole base in your mouth. as you suck him off. him, on the other hand are sweating, tears started to form in that boy's eyes. he had his hands placed prettily under your chin so he has a better view while the other caress your hair ever so sweetly. he is this sweet when receiving a blowjob? oh you could do this everyday if it means he is. "mmh, such a good girl. other boys must not be this thick, right? i know you enjoy this so much, baby." he said in between moans, grunts. you swirl your tongue, making a popping sound when letting his cock go. he felt empty, and cold.

yunho pouted, watching his dick being held and watched by you. "y/n.. why did you do that? more please.." he begged, grabbing your free hand and holding them in his. "i want a favor back." you gently pump his cock, watching him biting his bottom lip. "what is it hm..?" he hummed, thinking about what you possibly want. you leaned and lay your cheeks on his cock, looking up to him. "i want you to cover for me for the presentation soon."

and that, you were being sat on his lap while he does his revision. your top thrown away even god don't know where, your jeans and red panties thrown at the sofa. now, you're being forced to sit on his dick that has cummed a few times because you moved a little. you were facing behind, hugging him so tightly, hoping to not make a certain move or he takes a break to play with your hardened tits again. i said, again. you shuddered at the feeling of his liquid constantly coming out and its touching your walls. "y/n baby, don't move please? i've said this a thousandth times already." as he put his pen down, he pulled you so that you're leaning on the edge of the table and facing him. "aww, why are you crying baby? come on, i'm can take a break now can i?"

--

hehe a small yunho smut for ya'll <3 i miss this man so much and have you seen his airport look? god damn i would devour every single inch of it. and have ya'll seen seonghwa's gianna boyfriend?? goshh if he's not putting a shirt on i'm gonna suck those tits LMAO lmk if theres any error guys.. and remember to drop some hot ass smut thoughts on my inbox please im beggin u

[yuquinzel]

BLUE LOCK BOYS AS ROMANCE TROPES !

— feat ⨾ itoshi sae, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, mikage reo.

— contents ⨾ fluff, angst.

ITOSHI SAE + second chance at love !

it's raw with desperation and fear and hope— the way sae's fingers are clutching the fabric of your shirt. it's wasn't supposed to be this way. he kisses the tears trailing down your cheeks, “you said it was over. you said it wasn't worth it. you said you didn't want—” you choke on your own words, hand closing in fists on your sides when sae mutters breathlessly, “i didn't mean it, never ever.” he says. something like guilt burns in his eyes, a taste of regret on his lips, uncertainty and impatience in his hastened breaths.

it's crazy, you think. the way he still has that effect he had on you years ago when you were both seventeen in the airport terminal, teary eyes and staggered breaths. when the fear that the distance would tear you apart first took over, and sae stopped believing. when you looked away from him for the first time and he didn't reach out to wipe your tears. it wasn't supposed to be this way. he was back after four years and you weren't supposed to be in his arms. you promised yourself you'd talk like old friends do, and he trusted himself that he wouldn't say anything to try and make you stay.

“i think it can work, you and me, us. just the two of us and it'll be enough.” you know these words have burned on his tongue for long, because they're warm on your lips. you're kissing him back like it's only natural to do so.“i'm already yours, always have been.” he murmurs.

ITOSHI RIN + childhood friends to lovers !

it's the warm and golden hues of the setting sun melting into the evening blues, splattered colours of contrast coming together— the mark of a newborn eve, the smell of wet earth after the first shower of spring and the cool caress of the breeze. rin is standing by the entrance gates to your school, leaning against the wall, head rested to the side as he waits for you.

you think you're caught in a trance. his back covers the remnants of the sunlight like the moon eclipsing the sun, casting shadows of orange glows. when he breathes, the shadows dance with him. he frowns in wait, and you catch up to him. when you smile, it's almost melancholy, “what's got you smiling like that?” rin eyes the solemn curve of your lips.

“hmm? i think it's ’cause i like you.” the words bleed from your voice in saccharine hues, in bittersweet whispers of unrequited love and fear that maybe you've ruined the carefully painted mosaic of years of knowing rin and the sea green gleam of his eyes, the quiet hums and smiles only you know, the knowledge that he doesn't know how to make paper planes, summer nights of horror movie marathons and trading ice creams.

rin parts his lips, eyes as wide as saucers. he sucks a breath in— searching for the second you say you're joking, “do you mean that?”

you nod and rin's arms swallow you whole, chests pressed so close your heartbeats sync and improvise as one.

“i like you too, really like you.” he breathes into your neck— lingers of relief and gratitude like he's breathing for the first time.

NAGI SEISHIRO + forced proximity !

past 2 am into the late hours of midnight blues and the heavy patters rain against the glass window, reduced to background noise because you're subconsciously trying to trace the steady pattern of nagi's breathing, eyes skimming the fall and rise of his chest every two seconds.

you've been awake since thunder rumbled the walls of your temporarily-shared bedroom for the first time tonight. some fun, memorable just-close-friends trip this is. perhaps it wasn't enough you had to share the bed with someone, maybe it's truly because that someone happened to be nagi seishiro that you can't sleep at all. you're conscious of every breath he takes, how his body expands and relaxes. the heat of your bodies melding as one like a blanket of second warmth over you. “you still awake?” you ask, low and soft. nagi hums, “mhm, if you still are.”

his voice is nothing but a breath of the comfort of not being alone, exhaustion from the day clawing at his throat. “you can sleep if you want.” you say, it's whispered into the night— a silent thank you because he's letting you know he's here as long as you want him, “i wanna stay like this.” he urges, bringing a hand to brush your hair behind your ear and you let him. you let him hook his arm around your waist, foreheads brushing lightly, breaths tangling in knots and lips seconds away from meeting. you watch the curve of his lips, how they move to form words, “i like this more.”

MIKAGE REO + fake relationship !

you think reo had always looked like midsummer nights adorned with princely smiles and bubbles of champagne in the glass, glitters of neon city lights against damp car windows, juvenile secrets traded as i love you's with the hope it lasts forever. ( it doesn't. )

it lingers in the way he kisses you these days— a small talk to fill in loud silences, pretense and improvised. you kiss him back— a lullaby of aching heartbreak, unrequited and young. it almost makes you forget about the blinding flashes of camera lights, hurrying to capture the moment mikage reo is seen with his partner.

it's just like he had asked you to, “date me” he'd said, missing the way your eyes lit up, “it doesn't have to be real, just enough so my parents stop setting me up for blind dates.”

“i don't think i can do this anymore.” your voice breaks, eyes refusing to meet his.

“what? why?—” he rushes close and you step back, “it's getting too real for me, i can't.”

he pauses— ponders your words, lets them replay in his mind over and over again, “...and you don't want that?” you do. so much that you said yes before thinking when he first proposed this, “what about you, reo? this... this means nothing to you right? none of th—”

“it does”, his voice is almost begging, “it means everything to me. you do. it's you and it's always been you.” he looks at you, wondering if he should continue. he does anyway, “it's real. i loved you every time i said it, every time i didn't say it. I'll say it again if you want me to—” and you hear it, like it's always been there, like it's all he's ever known, “— i love you, y/n.”

© yuquinzel2023 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Scorched Earth.

A Grab Bag For A Very Lovely Anonymous Commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Warrior x Reader.

Word Count: 1.3k.

TW: Unhealthy Relationships, Mentions of War/Death, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, and Kidnapping.

You saw the torchlight hours before he reached your cottage.

Bright and brilliant, a red stain ebbing through the trees and bleeding into the dark sky. The forest was dense, the canopy stifling, yet somehow, the light he and his soldiers carried was awful enough to pierce through it all, to burn away every behind them and fill the open air with thick, choking smoke. You could’ve tried to flee, it wasn’t as if you couldn’t guess what was coming for you, but you didn’t keep a horse, and you knew better than to stave off the inevitable. He’d catch you, no matter how far you ran, no matter how many times you refused him. He’d promised as much, the first time he declared that you’d be his.

Rather than escape, you stayed where you were, perched on the rotting wooden steps leading up to your door and watching the oncoming flare. His scouts, dressed in black and prone to circling your meager home like vultures, reached you before he did, then sergeants, piling in by the dozen, well-armed and jeering and carrying his insignia with a sort of heady arrogance. Finally, he emerged from the growth, surrounded by his lieutenants and mounted on a sleek, grey steed larger than any you’d ever seen before. He was a far cry from how you’d seen him last – his bandages gone, his pitch-black hair grown down to his shoulders, the rags you’d been able to lend him traded out for shining armor clean enough to catch the torchlight and glow scarlet. A great-sword sat at his hip, two more curved blades crossed over his back, but you couldn’t seem to find much joy in his fortune. Not when you’d soon be counted among one of his many, many precious things.

As he dismounted, the movements practiced to the point of thoughtlessness, you rose to meet him, hyper-aware that this would likely be the last time you’d be able to stand on equal ground. “Wren.”

It wasn’t his name. You’d misheard him, the first time you asked; made what you could out of the slurred syllables he’d been able to spit out and never found the time to look back. Even when he started to recover, when he was able to hold onto consciousness for longer than a minute at a time and more than just your clumsy stitching held the jagged cut stretching from his shoulder to his hip shut, he always failed to correct you. His real name – Wyvern, given to him as an unknown orphan after he slayed his namesake and delivered its head to a king who’d let him massacre armies and rampage through the countryside as he pleased – was something you had to learn the day he left, the day he told you who he was and why you’d found him bleeding out in a stream all those months ago. He’d asked you to come with him, back to the castle, and through tears, you’d told him that you wouldn’t have helped him if you’d known you were saving the life of a murderer. He’d tried to kiss you, and you slapped him and told him to get out of your cottage.

It wasn’t his name, but he smiled like it was, taking a step toward you. His soldiers started to close in, but he held up a hand, keeping them at bay. “Beloved.” It was a familiar petname. It used to make you blush, stammer, want to make flower crowns and kick your feet and learn to play some ridiculous stringed instrument. Now, it just made your stomach turn, your vision dim at the edges with rage. “I’m sorry I took so long to return to you. I had to gather a few friends – thought you should meet the future guests of our wedding.”

There was cheer from his soldiers, a flash of a grin from Wren. You stiffened, squaring your shoulders, but he remained unaffected, his expression only softening as you forced yourself to respond. “I meant what I said. I could never love a man with blood on his hands.”

If he heard you over the milling of his soldiers, the crackling of his torches and the distant sounds of the forest’s nightlife, he clearly wasn’t listening. Rather he closed the remaining space between you and him and took you in his arms. Your feet were off the ground in a moment, your chest against his chest in another, being spun idly as he let out a throaty laugh. “God,” he sighed, when he finally came to a stop. The sharp corners of his plated armor dug into your skin at odd angles, and his hold on your waist was tight enough to bruise. You’d had to ask him to be gentle before, to mind his inhuman strength when he touched you, but it was a lesson he just couldn’t seem to take to heart. “I missed the sound of your voice. I’ll have to take you with me on my next campaign - I don’t know if I could stand to leave you at court for all that time.”

“Put me down,” you hissed, hitting his shoulders with as much force as you could manage. He abided you, but didn’t let go of you – just moving his hold from your hips to your hands, taking them in his own before you had time to pull away.

“I couldn’t. I absolutely couldn’t. Most of the knights are absolute bastards, and you’re too sweet – they’d try to take you for themselves in a heartbeat. No, I can’t let you out of my sight for a moment, can I?” He paused, his face lighting up with apparent zeal. “You’ll adore the castle. I’ve already secured a cottage on the edge of the grounds, and you’ll have full reign of the gardens. We won’t have to—”

“Stop.” You attempted to wrench yourself out of his vice-grip, and when that failed, let out a ragged groan, tears already forming in the corners of your eyes. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“That’s not true.” His smile didn’t so much as waver. “You saved my life. You told me that you loved me, and I love you, too. How would either of us ever be happy if we were seperated?”

Something deep in your chest ached. It was impossible to look at him and not picture the countless mornings you’d woken up by his side, the countless days you’d passed teaching him how fish and tend to a garden, the countless nights you’d spent bundled beside a fire sharing stories with a man you thought you’d loved. It was impossible not to think about what he’d done and wish you’d driven that knife into his stomach yourself.

“I can’t love someone like you,” you said, finally, because you couldn’t bear to say anything else. “And I’m not leaving my home.”

At that, you could’ve sworn you saw something register in his dark eyes. He was quiet, his enthusiasm fading, and for a second, you thought he might’ve understood. For a second, you thought he might call away his soldiers, get back on his horse, and leave you to your quiet suffering.

Then, he leaned forward, his lips coming to rest against the top of your head. “Beloved,” his voice was low, stifled your skin. “You don’t have a home. Not without me.”

Abruptly, he pulled away from you, raising a hand and looking toward his soldiers. While you were left in the dark, they knew their signal, surging forward in a chaotic wave of yelling and footsteps. You pressed your form against Wren’s side, clenching your eyes shut and bracing yourself, but there was only a burst of heat, a sudden visible even through your eyelids. Another kiss, this one pressed into your cheek and chased with a soft chuckle.

When you could bring yourself to look, you found not a volley of arrows or a hundred swords all pointed at your neck, but your cottage engulfed in flame, shining golden in the oppressive night. Your shoulders fell, your mouth opening, but you failed to make a sound. Wren wasn’t as stunned, grinning as he pulled you close and pressed his lips into yours, the kiss delicate and tortuous all at once.

“Don’t worry,” he muttered as he pulled away, his tone so soft and so gentle, you could almost tell ignore the blood-soaked cruelty lingering just underneath it.

“The only home you need is with me.”

[drunk-fantasies]

+18 CONTENT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

📼PAIRING: friend!heeseung x fem!reader

📼SYNOPSIS: all it ever took for heeseung was just one call from you, just like it was one question that ruined it all

📼GENRE: smut, angst at the end

📼WARNINGS: fwb-ish relationship, cheating, degradation, slapping (i guess?), oral, face sitting, cum eating

📼WORD COUNT: ~2k words

explicit content under the cut!

whenever you asked heeseung if he could come over, you promised yourself that it to be the last time and end whatever you had going on between you two afterwards. and you always did, yet it always ended with the same result — with you calling again after some time to make the bed shake and the air get steamy.

with his remarkable knowledge of all your weak spots he always managed to get you more and more addicted to him, and most importantly, make you feel way better than your boyfriend ever could.

how could he though? he didn’t know you that much and didn’t really seem interested. while heeseung, being your longtime friend, knew all your dreams, desires, and other fantasies even you were embarrassed about. he never judged you for them and just let you experiment with everything. he was not only the first guy you had sex with, but also the first to hold your hand, first to kiss you, and first to have a slow dance with you. your every possible romantic experience included heeseung, making everybody confused about how on earth you kept calling each other friends.

“y/n” he answered after a few signals. “what’s up?” he asked, knowing damn well what’s up.

“do you want to come over?” you asked almost in a sigh. “he’s gone.”

he remained silent for a second or two, only to let out a soft chuckle. “need me that much?”

“stop this and come here finally, you asshole,” you scoffed and smiled at his cockiness.

it didn’t take him long to knock on your door, thanks to the close distance between your homes. you ran up to them and opened them, revealing your best friend. he wore his usual jeans along with the jacket you chose for him on your regular shopping hangouts.

“how much time do we have?” he asked, just like always.

“not long,” you said quickly, pulling him inside.

the sound of you shutting the door behind him was followed by your body slamming against them. your lips found their way towards each other in a sloppy kiss. he placed his right hand on your waist and cupped your face with the left one. your tongues hungrily explored your mouths while your hands were busy taking off clothes. you felt him smile against your lips the moment you swiftly started to unbuckle his belt, yet he stopped you. you pulled away from him, confused.

“i thought you said that we can’t do this anymore,” he asked teasingly, looking at you from above.

you smiled coquettishly, leaning in. “you know i didn’t mean it,” you whispered and left feathery pecks on his earlobe and neck, making a slightly shaky breath escape his lips.

“does that mean you’re not going to say the same thing tonight?” your hands traveled down to his belt once again, but this time he didn’t stop your actions and just enjoyed the sight of you getting on your knees in front of him. you kept intense eye contact, just like he liked, and pulled his jeans entirely down, leaving his clothed hardness on full display.

“how do you think?” you asked and left little kisses on the fabric of his boxers. he was about to answer you but sucked air inside as you palmed him through the thin material.

“my little slut wants everybody to hear you gagging on me?” he managed to ask, petting your cheek and giving it a little slap. your little whimper at the stinging touch made him twitch, now painfully hard from your teasing. “answer me.” kicking away his trousers he took a step forward, making you stumble, your back meeting with the cold surface of your doors.

you nodded eagerly, tugging on the band of his boxers, and sent him a questioning look.

“my obedient pup,” he cooed and brushed lone strands of your hair behind your head and pushed it lightly towards his crotch. “do whatever you want, baby.”

that was all it took you to pull his last piece of garment down, revealing his dick, its tip glistening with a hot precum.

“enjoying the view?” he asked, making you realize you’ve been staring at him for a little too long. “must’ve missed me, huh?”

you nodded again with a pout. his hand traveled from your cheek to your mouth and pushed his long fingers as soon as you opened your lips.

“show me how you’re gonna suck me off. show me what that mouth does, slut.”

with closed eyes you gave yourself up to the suction of his two fingers, wishing it was his cock instead. your movements got quicker and more sloppy, saliva dripping out of your mouth and coating his digits.

the shameless sounds of slurping and moaning you kept making, made him want nothing more but your throat hugging his length tightly. without any word, he pulled his fingers out and didn’t waste time to replace them with his dick. at first, you gagged on it, poking the back of your throat, but still managed to hollow your cheeks and began to move further to his base. your movements just like on his fingers, at first slow and sensual, got greedy and sloppy in no time, too impatient to savor. your hands wandering up and down his thighs only added to the pleasure but also the desire to fuck your throat mercilessly. yet he held back from doing so, keeping the promise to let you do whatever you wanted tonight. though you fondling with his balls made it harder than he expected.

looking up you noticed his head falling backwards in pleasure. soon his hips began to buck against you, making it obvious of his incoming climax. you kept the pace and intensity and watched his reaction. he faced you again, mouth agape and eyes dark.

“you better not waste a drop of my cum, baby,” he said in a warning tone, preparing you for the hot load of his seeds that soon dripped down your throat.

licking him clean you topped it with an obnoxious pop. you were about to tease him more but you got interrupted. his palm squeezed tightly on your chin and motioned you to stand up, only to push your form against the door again. his lips attached to your sweet spot — the nape of your neck and your eyes rolled back. pulling away for a second to take off your top he continued to leave wet and purple marks on your delicate skin. he proceeded to unclasp your bra with ease and began to fondle your breasts.

“hee,” you whimpered at the feeling of his thigh at your crotch. “i thought you would let me do anything?”

“you also said we don’t have much time, yeah?” he tilted his head, eyes dark and needy. his breath continuously fanning your skin made you go crazy, drunk in his gaze and presence. you wanted nothing more but for this moment to last forever.

you nodded in response and yelped as he lifted you by your thighs. slowly he made his way to your bedroom, eyes not leaving yours, since he knew the way well at this point. instead of putting you on the bed and hovering above you like usual, he sat at the edge of your mattress, you sitting on his lap. his fingers traveled to your crotch, smiling at the wet patch on the fabric of your panties he whispered into your ear: “let me make you feel good.”

you let out an airy chuckle and answered in a whisper too: “you always make me feel good.”

you left his lap only for a second to get rid of the rest of your attire, only to climb onto him again and push him lightly on the mattress. with a cocky smirk, he watched you straddle first his waist and then his head. your glistening folds right in front of his eyes made him pull you downwards, sitting on his face completely. his hot breath sent shivers to your core and before you could say anything he started leaving feathery kisses on your clit. subconsciously you let out a long whine tugging at his hair. his hands found their way to your ass and gave them good squeezes and slaps now and then. your eyes kept on rolling back with every movement of his tongue that now did wonders on your pussy, right where you needed him the most. your eyes met with a picture of you and your boyfriend that you kept on your nightstand as a reminder to moan the right name whenever you didn’t cheat. but now it was rather redundant and even unwanted, so you quickly laid it, photo facing the wooden surface. you closed your eyes, smiling blissfully, and started to move your hips against heeseung’s mouth. he always gave you his everything, now eating you out so good. feeling how the knot in your stomach threatened to untie you took a firm hold of his head with your both hands to hold it in one place as your hip movements became more merciless. with a long moan, you came all over his face. he licked you clean and helped you lay down next to him

“why are you even with him?” he asked all of a sudden.

you felt how your heart stopped and jumped all the way to your throat, making it hard to breathe, especially in the moment you needed it the most.

“what?” you panted, confused to what his question was supposed to lead up to.

“why are you even with him, when he clearly can’t satisfy you?” his stare was nowhere near his usual look full of care and warmth. it made you nervous, even though you expected it to finally happen. “does he even love you? do you love him?” his words hurt not your feelings but pride.

“what do you even know, heeseung. you’re not part of my relationship so how dare you speak about it?” you scoffed and sat up, starting to pick up your clothes that were currently scattered across the room.

“i started to be part of it the moment you called me over, and didn’t even tell me you had a boyfriend. the moment you started cheating on him.”

“oh, you’re not going to give me mortality lectures.” you shook your head vigorously and pulled up your shorts. “you know why? you’re wrong about my relationship, we love each other and you heeseung, you’re just the other man, nothing less, and nothing more.”

the silence made you face him. his expression stayed the same. a light chuckle escaped his mouth. “then find yourself somebody else to be your other man, y/n.”

he took his time getting dressed without sparing you a single glance, while you started to regret what you’d done. wasting your longtime friendship just because your lack of feelings for your boyfriend got rightfully called out seemed stupid, even completely puzzling.

but he knew he was right. if he wasn’t you wouldn’t call him whenever your boyfriend was out of the town or even two blocks away, hanging out with his friends. deep down in your subconsciousness, you knew that too, but with your ego completely howling your sanity down it was pretty hard to realize why you always called particularly heeseung.

even when he closed the door to your apartment behind him, and somehow put everything you two had to an end, didn’t make you stand up and run to him, despite your strong urge to do so. instead, you just laid back down, facing the empty spot he left in your bed. his scent still hovered over your bedroom, just like a few wet spots on your skin of his kisses. reaching for his pillow you hugged it tightly and let yourself cry.

it’s really the end. he’s gone.

a/n sorry i kinda lost interest in it so some parts may be a little rushed and some things escalated quickly but yeah :) enjoy

tags: @nycapartmentsworld

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Hello everyone! I'm back with another Merlin au idea! This story was actually supposed to be a part of my fic "What to do When an Eldritch God Decides That You're Friend-Shaped", but I decided that this idea didn't really mesh well with the rest of that fic and would probably be better off as its own separate story.

And I will say, in my opinion, that this is probably one of my best au ideas yet. I had so much fun just writing this! Also, heads up, this post is going to be very long because I really love this idea! So, I hope you all enjoy! :D

In this au, which is set post-Camlann, Morgana wasn't able to take Merlin's magic away before the battle, so Merlin was able to save Arthur and defeat both Mordred and Morgana without revealing his magic. He was also able to prevent Gwaine's death since he kept Morgana preoccupied in the battle. So, Camelot is saved, and everything is great!

Except, Arthur has some questions. He knows from Morgana's furious screams during the battle that she was killed by a sorcerer named "Emrys", but Arthur never saw him. And Arthur recognized that name from when Morgana taunted him years ago by saying "Not even Emrys can save you now."

Arthur knows that he owes his kingdom and perhaps his life to this Emrys guy, but he knows nothing about him other than that he's a very powerful sorcerer, more powerful than Morgana. This frightens Arthur, as he doesn't know what Emrys wants or why he helps Arthur. For all Arthur knows, Emrys could be just biding his time to take over Camelot and was simply doing away with his competition by killing Morgana.

After things calmed down after the battle of Camlann, Arthur decides that he needs more information on Emrys. Who he is, what are his motives, how can they find him, and a million other details that Arthur needs to ensure his people's safety. He first goes to Gaius for information, but Gaius can tells him that, according to the myths of the Old Religion, Emrys is the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth and is held in high regard by the druids.

Gaius's answer only heightens Arthur's alarm, as the prospect of having to fight to most powerful sorcerer ever is terrifying to him. However, he still doesn't have any good information on Emrys, so he goes to the next best source: the druids.

Thanks to Arthur making peace with the druids after promising the ghost of the young druid boy and permitting them to use their magic for peaceful purposes only, there were a couple druid camps not far from Camelot. Arthur picked the closer one and took a day to travel there alongside Merlin and a few knights in the hopes of finally getting some answers.

When they arrive at the camp, they're met with worried glances and panicked faces, but the druid elders welcome them into the camp nonetheless, offering them all a seat by their campfire and warm meal. Once they got settled and Arthur exchanged some pleasantries with Iseldir, the druid chieftain, Arthur was finally able to ask what had been plaguing him for weeks.

"Iseldir, I know that your people hold a sorcerer named Emrys in high regard, and it's come to my attention that he was responsible for Morgana's defeat at Camlann and possibly on other occasions. Please, I need to know more about him and why he's chosen to help me."

Several people froze and tensed at Arthur's questions, including Merlin. Arthur sighed internally at Merlin's usual panic. He knew that Merlin could become easily scared in the face of magic, so he should have knows that his friend wouldn't approve of Arthur actively seeking out a dangerous sorcerer.

After a short, tense pause, Iseldir clears his throat and responds.

"I'd be happy to answer some of your questions about the god of magic!"

Wait, did Arthur hear that correctly? God of magic?! Arthur, in his shock, blurted out,

"Emrys is a god?! I had heard that he was a powerful sorcerer, not some deity!"

Iseldir chuckled a bit before responding,

"Emrys is indeed the god of magic in the Old Religion, the son of the Triple Goddess herself! He is not simply the master of magic, but rather magic itself, its very incarnation!"

That... was a rather frightening prospect, and it confused Arthur even further. Why would magic itself fight against Morgana? Why take Arthur's side? And, perhaps more importantly, was Arthur going to have to fight a god in order to protect his kingdom?!

Iseldir continued before Arthur's hysterical thought could bubble up to the surface.

"As I said, I'm happy to answer your questions, but please know that there are some secrets that Emrys has entrusted our people with that we cannot divulge, and there are some truths that might be... difficult for you in particular."

Arthur frowned at Iseldir's answer, unsure of what to make of it.

"What do you mean it might be difficult for me in particular?"

Iseldir winced a bit, grimacing like he didn't know how to respond without warranting a negative response.

"Well, there are some elements of Emrys's story that intertwine with your own life in some ways that you might not expect or be ready to hear at this point. Your life and Emrys's are highly connected, King Arthur, even if you don't know the extent of it yet."

Arthur's eyes widened at this admission. His life was connected to this mysterious god of the old religion? How could that possibly be true? He had didn't even know that Emrys was a god until a few moments ago! However, as curious as he was about what Iseldir could be talking about, he had more pressing matters at hand.

"We can discuss how I am connected to Emrys later. For now, I need answers to more important questions. Why does Emrys help Camelot? What is he hoping to get out of it?"

Iseldir looked much happier to answer this question, speaking calmly with a serene smile on his face.

"Emrys had many reasons to stand against the witch. She frequently hunted down and killed more peaceful magic users who did not share her taste for vengeance and bloodshed, including our fellow druids and even the Catha, a small sect of priests of the Old Religion that followed Emrys's will. Emrys fought against Morgana to protect these followers of his from her wrath."

Arthur nodded at Iseldir's explanation. As odd as it felt to have something in common with a god of the Old Religion, he could understand very well the drive to protect his own people. If Emrys's people were also in danger because of Morgana, it made sense for him to join forces with Arthur, even if Arthur was unaware of that alliance. Seeing Arthur's understanding, Iseldir continued with his explanation.

"Emrys also fought against Morgana in order to punish her for her hubris and use of dark magic. There are certain dark arts that take the power that Emrys grants us and twist it into a horrible force, bound only by the will of its user. Such arts are expressly forbidden by Emrys, and he cannot control what sorcerers do with such magic after its been corrupted so thoroughly. Morgana frequently used such forbidden arts and claimed the title of high priestess while ignoring the will of the gods, even the one that she drew her power from. Emrys is normally slow to anger, but for such transgressions, he became furious with Morgana and sought to punish her for treason against magic itself."

Arthur understood that a little bit less, but he could also relate to Emrys's reasoning as a king who had also had to punish some of his own citizens for treason.

"I can see that Emrys stood opposed to Morgana, but does Camelot have anything to fear from him? I can understand why he might not be very forgiving towards us considering my father's actions during his reign."

To Arthur's immense relief, Iseldir shook his head slightly before providing an explanation.

"No, Camelot has nothing to fear from Emrys. He knows that not everyone in Camelot agreed with your father's actions, and he can see progress that you've made since the end of your father's reign. In fact, Emrys has assisted Camelot many times even when Morgana wasn't involved!"

Arthur reeled backwards in shock at Iseldir words. The god of magic, helping Camelot freely? Despite everything his father had done?! Iseldir's explanation forced Arthur to re-evaluate what he knew of the Old Religion.

He had always seen the Old Religion and its gods as monstrous and barbaric. However, that wasn't the case, was it? Emrys had saved the kingdom that sought to destroy him. The Disir had shown Mordred mercy, even though Arthur had rejected their offer. The White Goddess had restored Guinevere's soul at the Cauldron of Arianrhod and healed her of Morgana's curse. Were all of the gods and goddesses of the Old Religion so benevolent and kind? Had Arthur misunderstood the Old Religion for his entire life?

However, Arthur was still shocked at Emrys in particular choosing to help Camelot, supposedly with no ulterior motives besides a common enemy in Morgana. That was how Camelot had survived against such odds? How could it be that magic itself was on their side?!

As Arthur looked at Iseldir again however, he noticed that the druid chieftain's face had pulled into a grimace again. Arthur certainly knew that look, he had seen it on the faces of his council members frequently.

"There's something that you aren't telling me, isn't there? I know that there are some things that you may be hesitant to divulge, but please, I must know everything I can about Emrys, for the safety of my kingdom."

Iseldir paused again, sighing deeply. He sat still for a moment, as if pondering how to proceed.

"Truthfully, there is another reason why Emrys assisted you, but it involves what I spoke of earlier, wen I said that your life and Emrys's are connected in ways that you may not expect. I am willing to tell you such things, but these truths might be hard for you to hear."

Arthur leaned forward, his curiosity piqued again.

"I have learned many uncomfortable truths about my own life through the years, so I will ask you: how could my life be connected to the god of magic?"

Iseldir nodded at Arthur's words and began speaking with a serious, nearly grim, voice.

"I assume that you are familiar with how life is exchanged in the practice of the Old Religion? For any life give, a life must be taken."

Arthur flinched backwards at Iseldir's words, already recognizing what topic was about to be brought up. He had come to terms with the truth of his birth years ago, but hearing it again didn't make it any easier. Blinking back tears, Arthur responded.

"Yes, I... I know. I'm aware that my father made a deal with the priestess Nimueh to secure an heir, and I know that my mother was the one who paid the price in the end."

Arthur heard quiet gasps coming from the knights around him, while Merlin silently put a comforting hand on Arthur's shoulder. Iseldir, after a moment, continued with his explanation.

"You are correct in your understanding, however, there is one part of the story that you are unaware of."

Arthur jolted in shock at Iseldir's words. There was more to the story of his birth? Frantically, Arthur started asking questions.

"What do you mean? What haven't I been told?"

Iseldir patiently and softly answered Arthur's questions, trying to soften the crushing revelation that he was about to tell Arthur.

"The balance of life and death is at the very core of the Old Religion. However, it is not the power of creation. The power over life and death was used by the high priestesses to resurrect and bring life to someone who has already passed. To magically create a new life, a new soul, from nothing is an act of creation, something that takes far more power than manipulating the balance of life and death. An act of creation takes the power of a god."

"I... I don't understand. What are you trying to tell me?"

"I am sorry that you had to find out this way, King Arthur. But in order to successfully ensure that your mother and father had an heir, Nimueh called upon the power of her patron god: Emrys."

This time, it was Arthur was gasped in shock at this information, hysteria rising in him once again.

"Are you telling me that Emrys was responsible for my very creation?! That it was his power that created me?!"

"More than that, I'm afraid. To create your soul, Emrys did more than just weave his own power into a life. He cut out a shard of his own soul and breathed life into it, thus creating you. While we don't know his reasons for doing so, Emrys created you from a part of his own being."

Arthur felt like his breath had just been punched out of him. What... what did this mean?!

Iseldir must have seen his panic, and further clarified.

"In the eyes of the gods, this made Emrys your true creator and, in the eyes of the magical world, your father."

At those words, Arthur stopped breathing entirely. Unbeknownst to Iseldir, who kept going with his explanation, Arthur entire worldview was collapsing in on itself.

Magic itself was his father?! What did that even mean?!

And oh god was he even a Pendragon? Did he even have a legitimate claim to the throne of Camelot?!

Arthur's panic was so strong that he could barely feel how Merlin's supportive hand on his shoulder was now clenching hard enough to bruise.

(Meanwhile, inside Merlin's panicking mind: WTF??! Oh shit I owed HOW MUCH to Uther Pendragon in child support?! Am I a deadbeat dad to my own best friend??)

"This is why you triumphed over any foe, magical or otherwise. Emrys forbade any magic from truly harming you, and he rose to protect you when you needed him. He will always fight by your side, as you are, in many ways, a part of him."

Iseldir paused, now noticing Arthur's hyperventilating.

"I assume that you have many questions following this news. Please, feel free to ask anything, there's no need to be scared by this!"

Arthur took a deep breath and tried to keep from laugh hysterically. No need to be scared?! His entire life had just been turned on its head!

"If... if Emrys is my true father, what about Uther? Do I even have a claim to my throne?"

"Ah, there's no need to worried about that. While Emrys might be your father in terms of your soul, Uther is still your father in terms of blood. Do not fret, King Arthur, you are still of Pendragon blood and have every rightful claim to your throne."

Arthur calmed down a bit at Iseldir's words, breathing much easier now. This explained so many things about Arthur's life, how he had survived in situations that he by all means shouldn't have. Still, he had many questions for Iseldir.

"If I am truly the son of magic itself, am I even human, or am I some sort of demigod?"

At this question, Iseldir shook his head.

"That, I truly do not know. I'm sorry, but I don't think anyone knows the answer to that question except for Emrys himself."

Finally, an idea occurred to Arthur. He stiffened as he blurted out,

"Can I speak with him then? Is there any way to summon him?"

As soon as the idea took root in Arthur's mind, he couldn't get it out. Emrys had to have been looking out for Arthur for many years now, using his power to protect him. This notion of having a secret father who had been caring for him for years almost felt like having a second chance.

Arthur never had the relationship with Uther that he wanted. There was no affection, no bonding, and no comfort to be found there. Only expectations and demands.

But Emrys had apparently been helping Arthur for years with no expectations and no demands. Arthur had fantasized as a young boy about what it would have been like to have a kind, caring father, the kind he saw doting on their children in the marketplace. Now, it almost seemed like he had another chance of having a father, one who truly cared about him!

So naturally, Arthur wanted to meet him! Both the druids and the knights look slightly confused at Arthur's excited outburst about wanting to meet Emrys, but the druids tell him that they have everything that they need to perform a summoning ritual, but they'd need some time to set it up.

Arthur asks if they can set it up for him, and they nod and walk away to begin preparations. Meanwhile, Merlin and the knights ask Arthur if he's just lost his mind. They know that this must be shocking for him, but does he need to summon a god?!

Merlin shows the most vocal opposition to Arthur's plan, saying that they still don't even know if they can trust Emrys. All they have to go on is the word of the druids, and they seem pretty biased in Emrys's favor.

Arthur smiles and tells Merlin that he appreciates his protectiveness, but this is something that Arthur needs to do. He needs this closure, this chance to connect with his last living parent.

Arthur does take Merlin's concerns into consideration though, and orders for his men to leave the camp and take Merlin with them, so they're far away and protected if Emrys turns out to be untrustworthy.

(As the knights drag a struggling Merlin away, Merlin is frantically talking with Iseldir in his mind about what the summoning ritual entails and what it looks like. If he magically pops up next to Arthur right as Arthur does a ritual to summon Emrys, even Arthur would be able to put two and two together!

Luckily, Iseldir informs him that the summoning ritual will summon his soul, not his body, and Arthur wouldn't be able to recognize him. Still, Merlin tried to talk the druids out of the ritual, because Merlin doesn't want his soul to get yanked out of his body! But there was little that the druids could do with Arthur insisting on the ritual.)

After preparing the materials for the ritual, the druids take Arthur back into a tent to get him ready. Arthur's heart pounded in his chest with both excitement and fear as the druids walked him through what he had to do.

First, they gave him some plain but comfortable robes to change in to. They explained that Emrys preferred his followers to come to him in the garments of peace, not war, so his armor, chainmail, and weapons would have to be left in the tent.

After changing into the robes, Arthur felt strangely both vulnerable and comforted. As the druids rubbed some flowery smelling oil into his arms and then led him to a small wooden altar, Arthur couldn't help comparing this experience to approaching Uther.

Whenever he was meeting with his father, Arthur was expected to show no weakness, no flaws. He had to look the part of the warrior prince, trained since birth and hardened by battle. However, here with Emrys, Arthur was dressed in comfortable clothes and told to simply ask for Emrys's presence before the altar. He didn't need a sacrifice or penance or any sort of challenge to summon Emrys. All that the druids told him was to "call for him, and Emrys will answer."

Placing one hand gently on the wooden surface of the intricately carved altar, Arthur cleared his throat wetly before saying aloud to the empty space in front of him,

"Emrys, I'm... I'm not sure if you're here, but I'm your- your son, Arthur. You probably know me already, though, since you've been helping me and protecting me for a long time now. I- I wanted to thank you for your help. So, I would appreciate it if you could appear, so I could meet you and thank you in person."

There, Arthur thought that was a pretty good introduction! This was his first time meeting his new father, so he needed to make a good first impression!

Arthur stood, awkwardly shifting on his feet as he tried to push down his disappointment with each passing moment that Emrys did not appear. Maybe Arthur did it wrong? Maybe Emrys hadn't heard him? Or maybe Emrys had heard him, but was disappointed in Arthur and deemed him a weak son, just like Uther had?

As Arthur tried to swallow down his hurt, suddenly, there was a bright flash of light above the altar. It was so bright that Arthur had to throw his hand in front of his eyes and turn away, but his heart leapt at the sight.

Was this it?! Was he about to meet his creator and have another chance at having a father?

As soon as he could, Arthur lowered his hand and opened his eyes, anxiously awaiting his first glimpse at Emrys! As the light died down, Arthur was able to make out the outline of something...

As the light slowly dwindled, Arthur could see a bright, glowing ball of golden light, very similar to the one that had saved him from that cave so many years ago, floating above the altar. His eyes widened as he realized what, or more likely who, this light must be.

Emrys was a god after all, Arthur really shouldn't have assumed that he'd look like a human. The god of magic taking a human form, what a crazy idea!

Taking a deep breath to compose himself, Arthur called out to the light.

"Emrys? Is that you?"

At his words, the light floated down from the altar until it was hovering right in front of Arthur, an arm's reach away. Arthur fought the urge to reach out and touch the light, just to see if it was real and not just a product of his own wishful thinking.

After a couple seconds, the ball of light flashed, and Arthur heard what sounded like multiple voices coming from it, speaking in unison.

"Hello Arthur. I'm so glad to finally be able to meet you. I am Emrys."

(Elsewhere, Merlin mentally patted himself on the back for making his soul-self sound sufficiently inhuman and speak in a manner that was completely unlike his usual self. Arthur couldn't possibly figure his identity out now!)

Arthur let out a sound that was something between a joyful laugh and a sob. Emrys actually came! Clearing his throat, Arthur tried to calm down his excitement and nerves and put on his best diplomat voice. He needed to start off strong here!

"I'm glad that we could meet as well. It's come to my attention that I have many things to thank you for, including Camelot's victory over Morgana in our latest battle. You might have saved all of Camelot, and I owe you a debt of gratitude."

Emrys silently floated in place for a moment, making Arthur sweat with nervousness. Had he already blown his one chance of having a caring parent?

Finally, Emrys's... orb body (what else was Arthur supposed to call it?!) glowed again and spoke with his multiple voices overlapping in harmony.

"You do not owe me anything, Arthur. There are no debts between us. We are family, tied together by our very souls. You never have to feel indebted to me for protecting you and Camelot. I do it not for a reward or recognition, but because I care for you."

Arthur's eyes misted over as he took in Emrys's words. How many times had he wished to hear anything like that from Uther? How many nights had he lied awake wondering what unconditional love from a parent would feel like?

As tears started silently rolling down Arthur's face, Emrys drifted closer to him. Arthur was startled by this move and didn't really know how to respond. Hesitantly, he lifted his hands to ball of light, unsure of what to do.

Slowly, the light moved towards Arthur's outreached hands. Arthur almost expected to flinch back upon contact, but instead, when his hands finally touched the ball of light itself, he was only met with a warm, comforting sensation, and he instantly relaxed and leaned into it. The only thing he could compare it to were those warm hugs that Merlin gave him whenever he felt down, which he would never admit to Merlin that he enjoyed.

Arthur gently guided the light closer, until he was hugging it against his chest and that wonderful warm fuzzy feeling was spreading through his entire body. Arthur wondered if this counted as getting a hug from his father, and then immediately decided that the answer was yes. And his new father apparently gave very good hugs.

Arthur stayed with Emrys for several more minutes, until the sun was setting. From there, Emrys told him that he had spent too much time in the mortal realm and couldn't hold his form for much longer without taking time to rest. Panicking, Arthur asked if he would be able to see Emrys again, he couldn't lose his new father so soon after meeting him!

Emrys reassured him that they'd see each other again soon and that he'd be by Arthur's side the whole time, even if Arthur couldn't see him. Comforted by this news, Arthur bid his new father farewell, and the ball of light slowly dissipated.

Arthur then returned to Merlin and his knights, who had a million questions for Arthur. Arthur answered their burning questions as best he could, and they were relieved to see that Arthur was safe and not scarred by the experience of talking to the god of magic.

The next day, they returned to Camelot, and Arthur soon realized that even if he couldn't see Emrys himself, he could certainly the effects that Emrys had on the world around him.

Arthur never fell sick, his rooms were never too hot or too cold, his muscles were never sore from training, his attackers that snuck into the castle never managed to land a hit on him, his kingdom's crops prospered, and a million other things went right in Arthur's life, and for the very first time, Arthur understood.

Magic loved him. And, more importantly, his father loved him.

And it didn't escape other people's notice either. He had told the knights that he had brought with him to the druid camp to not discuss the revelation of his relationship to Emrys, but one knight got drunk at the tavern and told his friend, and someone overheard, and now everyone in the kingdom had heard the news that King Arthur was apparently the son of a god.

The fact that Arthur had secretly prayed for Emrys's help when Gaius reported about a deadly plague in the lower town, only for Emrys to immediately appear again as a ball of light in the middle of a council meeting in front of dozens of witnesses didn't help Arthur keep it a secret either.

(Meanwhile, Merlin hears all of Arthur's prayers for Emrys. He's able to take care of most of Arthur's concerns just as Merlin, but a very powerful/emotional prayer from Arthur actually summons him in his "Emrys" form, leading to some awkward moments, but he makes it work for Arthur's sake.)

On the bright side of Arthur's heritage being revealed, other kingdoms were now much more open to peaceful negotiations and trade deals.

And on one occasion where a very foolish king tried to declare war on Arthur, the enemy king's army only made it a hundred yards of Camelot's forces before the earth itself broke open into a wide chasm that started swallowing the leaders of the enemy army whole. No one was stupid enough to attempt an attack on Camelot after that.

Life goes on like this for about a year, until Arthur catches Merlin using magic for some mundane purpose. Arthur is shocked of course, but magic has been legal for a while now. When he questions Merlin on where he learned magic from, Merlin stammers and says "Well... uh, Emrys..."

Arthur cut Merlin off, yelling because apparently his father was teaching Merlin magic behind his back?! What was that about!

Merlin then decides to take this misunderstanding and roll with it, because there's no way in hell that he's looking Arthur in the eyes and telling him that he's actually Arthur's magical father.

Merlin spins a story about how Emrys had been slowly teaching Merlin magic so Merlin could help Arthur out and always have someone nearby with magic to protect him! Arthur accepts this story, but is secretly a little bit jealous. How come Emrys chose to teach Merlin magic and not his own son?

After Arthur asks Emrys about this, Emrys apologizes to Arthur, saying that he didn't know if Arthur would be interested. He then starts trying to teach Arthur magic (to pretty much no success). To further apologize to Arthur, Emrys gives him a gift! Emrys had apparently heard about how Uther had forbidden Arthur from having a pet as a child despite Arthur begging for one, so Emrys decided to remedy this by giving Arthur a baby dragon to take care of and to train to protect Camelot.

Everyone else is alarmed by this, but Arthur is almost moved to tears because he loves the little dragon so much already!

And this au is already wayyyy too long, so I'll cut it off there! I'm tempted to call this the "Arthur gets catfished into a healthy parental relationship" au lol!

I hope you all enjoyed this au! Sorry about it being longer than usual, but I had a lot that I wanted to write about this au idea! And if you want to see even more of this au, feel free to let me know if you'd like a continuation!

And, as always, thank you for reading through my (very long) ramblings! :D

[girlgenius1111]

you aren't a chore...

mapi x ingrid x reader

r tears her ACL. her girlfriends struggle to help her heal. angst + fluff. mapi didn't tear her meniscus in this because i said so <3

Tearing your ACL while on national duty was less than ideal; not just because it was a months long, intense injury that you knew would be hell to go through. It happened while you were in England, and your girlfriends were in Norway and Spain, respectively. You were dreading having call them with this news, news you knew would hurt them almost as much as it hurt you, but there was no avoiding it.

You were at the hospital, and the doctor had just left the room, confirming what you'd known since you'd gone down on the pitch a few hours ago. You were finally alone, and you couldn't put off calling Ingrid and Mapi any longer.

You started a group face time, wincing when you noticed in the camera how red your eyes were from crying. It only rang a couple times before both girls clicked on, almost simultaneously.

"What's happened?" Ingrid asked frantically, not needing to see more than your tearstained face to know that something was wrong. Mapi's excited smile dropped into a frown, too, and you took a deep breath.

"It's my ACL." You told them, swallowing the lump in your throat.

"No, amor," Mapi said in disbelief.

"It's completely torn. I need surgery." You continued, gripping the sheets under you in your hand, not wanting to cry.

"Are you sure?" Ingrid asked.

"Yeah, I just got the scans back and the doctor confirmed."

"How did it happen?" Mapi's questioned, voice shaking as she spoke.

"I planted my foot and twisted I guess, and it just. Really hurt. I heard it pop."

"Amor, I am so sorry. I'll come to you, I'll fly tomorrow," Mapi said, shuffling around, clearly looking for her computer to book a flight.

"No, no, it's okay. They're flying me back tomorrow to Spain tomorrow. They offered to do the surgery here but I wanted to be home. With you guys."

"Love," Ingrid began, and you could tell from the desperate look on her face what she was thinking.

"No, Ingrid. You'll stay with your team, and win for me. Mapi will take good care of me." You insisted. Ingrid's teeth bit at her lip, an anguished expression etched across her features.

"Love, I want to be with you," She said, and you could tell she was fighting back tears.

"I know, I want that too. It's only a few more days, though. The team needs you, Ingrid, you have to stay."

"Y/n's right. You have to stay with the team. She'll be a handful, but I can handle our girl." Mapi joked, face falling when you only cracked a small smile. She wanted to reach through the phone, to call up one of the English girls and tell them to give you a hug, anything to make you feel better. Glancing at Ingrid's face, the Spaniard could tell she felt the same.

"Can we do anything?" Ingrid asked, thinking that she would move heaven and earth to get rid of the sad frown on your face.

"No, I'm fine, I promise." You said, although your voice and expression told a completely different story.

"Cariño, neither of us expect you to be fine." Mapi said softly.

You forced a smile onto your lips, hoping it was convincing. "Really, I'm fine. I have to go though, they're about to discharge me. I love you guys." You hung up, rolling onto your good side, muffling your sobs in the pillow.

Ingrid and Mapi hung up with each other soon after, both agreeing that they needed to keep a close eye on you. You'd never handled injuries well, but the state you were in on the phone was worse than they'd ever seen. This was a worse injury than you'd ever had, so it made sense, but they were still incredibly worried.

-----

Mapi had wanted to pick you up from the airport, but Barca had insisted on you going to meet with the surgeon right away, sending a car to grab you and take you there. Mapi promised to meet you at the hospital for your consultation, and arrived there in the parking lot a full 10 minutes before you did. She wanted to prepare herself for whatever you were feeling. Honestly, she had no idea how to best help you; neither her nor Ingrid had ever had an injury of this magnitude, they couldn't know what you were feeling. The defender had never felt more helpless in her life, watching you slowly get out of the car, grabbing your crutches, and making your way towards the door, where she waited.

"Mi amor," she said as you neared her, moving forward to carefully wrap you in a hug. You were stiff in her arms, jaw set stiffly, as you murmured a greeting into your ear. It became clear to your girlfriend that you had completely shut down, not allowing yourself to feel the intense emotions she knew must be tugging at you. Not wanting to challenge that unhealthy coping mechanism at the hospital, she simply kissed your cheek lightly, before leading you into the building.

You were quieter than Mapi thought you'd ever been in your life as you made your way into the surgeon's office, face pinched in pain as you settled into a chair next to her, moving your crutches to rest next to you with a disdainful look at them.

You waited for the surgeon, turning to the team doctor that had accompanied you and speaking, voice raspy from lack of use.

"When do you think they'll do the surgery?"

"Depends. Some doctors like to do it sooner rather than later, to preserve muscle strength, while others think the more time taken to reduce swelling, the better. This guy did Alexia's, and he only had her wait a week."

You nodded absentmindedly, reaching one hand over to grip onto Mapi's. She squeezed your hand comfortingly, pulling out her phone to update Ingrid.

Your meeting with the surgeon may as well have been 2 seconds, for all the information you absorbed. Once he told you that he'd operate in a week, you couldn't force yourself to focus on everything he said about the recovery process. If you didn't take this one step at a time, you were sure that you would fail. Mapi could tell you weren't all there, and she allowed you the time to process on the way home, not bothering to speak to you until she asked if you wanted to call Ingrid and update her.

"Can you just tell her?"

"Of course, amor. I'll be right back, okay?"

"Thanks Maps."

If this was a hint to how you'd be for the next week, Mapi felt like she'd almost rather have torn her own ACL. She could tell that you were hurting, not just physically, but deep within you. You wouldn't speak about it though, repeating the words "I'm fine" until they no longer sounded like words. You weren't overly upset, nor were you overly happy. Instead, Mapi got used to the version of you that was quiet, giving her only small smiles and chuckles when she tried to joke around, instead of the full laughs that had been part of the reason she'd fallen in love with you.

As the days passed, and your surgery grew closer, Mapi noticed you become more irritable, frustrated more easily. She talked to Ingrid often about it, completely at a loss for how to help you, as nothing she was doing seemed to work. Her and Ingrid agreed that this period of waiting was especially hard for you; you couldn't do any rehab work, nothing at all could be done until after the surgery. The hoped that being able to focus your mind and body on recovering would bring you back to yourself.

Ingrid, for her part, made up her mind to leave the national team and come home to you at least 10 different times, but you and Mapi always talked her out of it. She was due home the day of your surgery, and you both were adamant that this injury not affect Ingrid's playing time with the team. Ingrid was packing one day, after a particularly rough night where Mapi confided that she wasn't sure you'd slept at all, and Mapi was clearly failing at convincing her to stay. You'd grabbed the phone from Mapi's hand, expressing the most emotion that they'd seen from you since your injury.

"Ingrid, please don't do this for me. I love you, and I miss you, but I want you to stay. Coming home now will only make me feel guilty. Besides, watching you play is one of the only things I'm looking forward to right now."

Mapi practically froze when you spoke, waiting to hear Ingrid's response.

"Okay, elskling. If that's what you want." Ingrid sighed, dropping her clothes back into her drawer. She wasn't happy about it, but she trusted that if you really did need her, you'd ask for her.

"Mapi is taking good care of me, anyway. Not as good of a job as you could, but it'll do." You joked, shooting Mapi a smirk. She feigned being supremely insulted, but really, she was just happy to see you smile again, even if it was at her own expense.

"Alright, you can shower by yourself tonight." She teased, and you glared at her.

"I might as well be showering by myself, for all the help you are."

"I shaved your legs for you yesterday!" Mapi gasped.

"That's not the kind of help I'm talking about."

"If I had sex with you while you were injured, in the shower, while Ingrid was in another country, I think she'd kill me." Mapi defended.

"I absolutely would. You'll just have to be patient and wait for me. And till after your surgery. Think of it as a fun challenge." Ingrid smiled, enjoying the glimpse of the you she was used to seeing, not the empty version that you'd been for the past few days.

"What is fun about that, Ingrid, be serious."

"What's fun is that we're all waiting, and we will all have a very good time together once I'm back, and it's safe for you. I promise, you can be a pillow princess the way you like, and Mapi and I will do whatever you want." Ingrid said sweetly, and you tried to ignore the way you felt suddenly warm at her words.

You gave a dramatic sigh. "Whatever I want?"

"Whatever you want." Both girls promised together. Mapi saw the most excitement she'd seen in you all week, and couldn't help but leaning in and leaving a gentle kiss on your temple. You softened at her loving action, growing slightly more serious.

"I'm sorry I've been so awful this past week. I know I haven't been very much fun to be around."

"You have every right to be grumpy, mi amor. You're doing your best, we don't expect any more than that." Mapi promised.

"I can't imagine what you're feeling, elskling. You can act any way you feel like acting." Ingrid assured you. "It'll get easier post surgery, yeah?"

You nodded like you agreed, but you weren't exactly sure about that. You hoped Ingrid was right, you really did. Mapi caught your reluctance.

"No matter what, we've got you, mi amor." She said, tilting your chin to look into your eyes as she spoke.

"Always, kjære." Ingrid echoed, and this time, you felt more confident when you nodded. You weren't sure that you trusted your body anymore, not when it had betrayed you so grievously. You did, however, trust your girls with everything. Everything.

-----

Mapi hated being in hospitals. When she had gone to your initial appointment with you, it was just the surgeons office you were visiting, which was tolerable. But a hospital, with patients and sick people, and doctors and nurses in scrubs, she hated. She always had, and the night before your surgery, you could tell she was getting nervous. You were nervous too, but magically, your stress evaporated when you realized that Mapi was anxious, and all you cared about was making her feel better.

Ingrid was set to touch down in Barcelona after you went back, and she would probably arrive at the hospital right as you were coming out of recovery, which wouldn't be very much help to your other girlfriend who wouldn't hear a word about leaving the hospital while you were in surgery.

You were debating on making Mapi talk about it, when she started bouncing her knee rapidly, and picking at her cuticles; 2 things she only did when she was really nervous. You knew if she continued like this, she'd get no sleep. More than that, she looked miserable, although she tried to hide it, and you hated seeing her upset.

"María," you called softly, getting her attention. She turned to you, and you watched her literally change her face from one of slight panic, to one of reassuring confidence. If you didn't know her so well, you would have bought the second face with no questions asked.

"Come here," you said, gesturing for her to move closer. She must have thought you were seeking comfort, because otherwise there was no way she would have accepted your comfort, and she moved closer, resting her head on your shoulder.

"Are you nervous?" She asked.

"A bit. You seem really anxious though, baby. Are you okay?" At your question, she sat up, leaning away from you.

"I am fine, amor. Nothing to worry about." She said. "I am going to go shower, and then I'll help you to bed, alright?"

"Okay." You agreed, letting it go for now. She smiled at you, pressing a kiss to your forehead, before leaving the room.

You sighed once she was out of earshot. You'd let Ingrid know that Mapi seemed more anxious than normal, but you didn't want to overly stress out the Norwegian, not when you knew she was already kind of freaking out at the thought that you were having surgery before she arrived home. You pulled your phone out, hitting the contact of the one person you knew Mapi trusted almost as much as she trusted you and Ingrid.

"Alexia? I need your help with something."

-----

Worrying about Mapi turned out to be a wonderful distraction for you, as you both woke early and headed to the hospital. You were nervous, but your attention was on your girlfriend, who had a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel with one hand, and yours wrapped tight in the other.

"Maps?"

"Sí?" She said, looking at you out of the corner of her eye, her worry evident in her slightly shaky voice.

"Ale is going to meet us at the hospital."

Mapi blinked. "That is nice of her to come for you." She said, although she was slightly confused. You hadn't wanted to see anyone recently, and although you'd been talking to Alexia, as someone who had, and was currently, having issues with her knee, Mapi was surprised that you'd agreed to her being at the hospital, and seeing you in such a vulnerable state.

"She's not coming for me, she's coming for you. I don't want you sitting alone around the hospital for hours, not when you're already nervous." You stated plainly, never having planned on hiding the real reason Alexia was invited.

"Amor, you should not be worrying about me," Mapi complained, although her grip slackened slightly on the wheel.

"Well, I am. So is Ingrid. And with Alexia there, we won't worry as much. Really, you'll be doing both of us a favor."

"You will be unconscious, but worrying about me?" Mapi rolled her eyes.

"I always dream of you, baby. Even when I'm under general." You winked at her.

Mapi snorted, but you were delighted to see a faint blush on her cheeks. She was quiet for a moment.

"Thank you. I appreciate it." She spoke softly, and you could just barely hear her over the sound of the engine.

You pull her hand over, still laced with yours, kissing the back of it. She smiled at you, eyes crinkling the way they did when she smiled really genuinely. You returned the smile, feeling incredibly glad that you weren't really freaking out.

-----

You sat in the hospital bed, all dressed in the stupid gown, feeling significantly less calm and collected. Mapi had settled after learning that Alexia would be around, and her decrease in stress had allowed you to focus back on your own.

You were visibly nervous, hands shaking, teeth chattering, holding rather tightly to Mapi's hand. They put the IV in, and you noticed Alexia mumble something to one of the nurses, who took one look at you, nodded, and disappeared from the room.

"What did you tell her?" You wondered.

"Nothing, just a question." Alexia replied calmly, but the her eyes flicked away from your eyes; Alexia could lie, but she couldn't meet your eyes while doing it. The nurse returned before you could press your captain.

"Something to help you relax, alright?" The nurse said with a kind smile, injecting something into the IV. You didn't know what it was, but the effect was almost instantaneous. Your neck went limp, and your head dropped onto the pillow. Your body drained of tension, and you loosened your painfully tight grip on your girlfriends hand.

"I feel better," you said, fighting back a yawn. The nurse left the room, telling you that they would be ready to take you back in a couple minutes. Mapi was looking at you, amused by the sudden relaxed version of you in front of her.

"Alexia, you really are a great blonde." You said, squinting at her.

"Thank you chica," she said with a laugh. "They gave you the good stuff, huh?

You turned to look at Mapi, raising a clumsy hand to boop her nose. "You're so pretty. Like so, so, pretty."

"They really did give you the good stuff," Mapi laughed. You returned her grin, eyes beginning to flutter shut. You were lightly snuffling against the oxygen tubes not seconds later, out cold, still clinging to your girlfriend's hand.

"What did you tell them to give her?" Mapi asked, turning her attention to her best friend.

"I just asked if they could start her early on the stuff to relax her. My mom had them do it for me when I had my surgery, because she thought I was going to break my sister's hand, I was holding it so tight." Alexia commented.

The nurse entered again, followed by several others, and Mapi knew it was time. She leaned down, placing a light kiss on your cheek.

"Good luck, mi amor. I love you." She whispered the words into your ear, squeezing your hand once more, before allowing them to roll your bed away. She watched as they wheeled you down the hall, feeling a flutter of worry in her chest. They better be careful with you.

Alexia stood next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"She'll be fine, amiga." Alexia reassured, and Mapi nodded, trying to convince herself.

"Thank you for being here. I really appreciate it." Mapi mumbled.

"Of course." Alexia replied. "You better text Ingrid and tell her y/n went back. You know she bought plane wifi, and if you don't update her, I wouldn't want to be you when she arrives later."

-----

Ingrid hated plane wifi, potentially more than she'd ever hated anything in her entire life. All she wanted was to hear that you'd gone back for surgery okay, and also that Mapi was alright, but the wifi was hardly functioning, and Ingrid felt like chucking her phone across the plane. Her texts began to load, finally, as the plane was landing. Perfect timing. She had a text from Mapi, and a text from Alexia.

"They just took her back. She was nervous but they gave her something and she was... no longer nervous. Waiting with Ale now. Fly safe, princesa. Te amo."

"Mapi's alright. Definitely anxious but I'm distracting her by asking her to tell me what her favorite goal she's ever scored is. She's been talking for 20 minutes."

Ingrid relaxed, even cracking a smile at Alexia's text. Her and Mapi's relationship was so entertaining to watch. They spent most of their time together giggling, making fun of each other, but if one of them needed the other, she would be there. No matter what.

Ingrid made her way off the plane, resisting the urge to shove everyone out of her way. She made record time getting to baggage claim, and was just pulling out her phone to call and uber when she felt someone land squarely on her back.

"La princesa! Your taxi service has arrived!" Ingrid tried to be annoyed, she really did, but when Pina climbed off her back, and Ingrid turned around to find her and Patri smiling goofily at her, she couldn't manage it.

-----

Ingrid arrived at the hospital, leaving her bag with Pina and Patri, who had promised to get it home for her, before heading inside. She'd gotten a text from Mapi a couple of minutes ago, one that had worried her.

"Taking longer than they expected. Not sure why. We're in room 402 when you get here."

Ingrid hauled ass to room 402, her stiff legs from playing a full 90 the day before, and then getting on a plane making it rather difficult. She made it at the same time, apparently, as the surgeon, and she felt slightly nauseous as she walked into the room. There were plenty of reasons why a surgery would take longer, but Ingrid could not, for the life of her, think of one that wasn't negative.

She walked right into the room, just before the doctor, quickly hugging Alexia before pulling Mapi into her side. They all looked at the doctor expectantly. He looked frazzled, which didn't make anyone feel better, and he scrolled through your chart for what felt like minutes before finally speaking.

"The surgery was successful, and y/n is in recovery. There was, however, a slight, unforeseen complication."

-----

You woke up slowly, and you could hear before you could open your eyes. You weren't sure where you were, or what was happening. You heard rhythmic beeping, and it sped up as you grew more aware. You shifted lightly in the bed, unable to get your eyes to open. The beeping sped up faster, but someone laid a hand on your cheek, and a soft voice filled your ears.

"You're alright, cariño, we're here with you." You settled instantly when you heard Mapi speak, the beeping that you now realized was measuring your heart rate slowing down again. It took a few more minutes before you got your eyes to open, and, by that point, you remembered where you were, and why you were there.

It was bright when you looked around. Mapi was in a chair next to you, hand holding yours. You looked around, realizing Ingrid was supposed to be there, as was Alexia. Even just waking up from surgery, you wanted to see your girlfriend, more than anything.

"Ingrid?" You croaked out, directing the question to Mapi. She smiled when she heard your voice, and helped you take a few sips of the water on the table in front of you.

"She's just talking to the doctor, she'll be back in a bit," Mapi informed you. There was something off, though, a tightness to her smile that shouldn't be there. It could have been her general discontent being in the hospital, but something in your gut told you that it wasn't that.

"What's wrong?" You asked, forcing your eyes back open when the slid shut again.

"Nothing," Mapi lied, looking at the door almost pleadingly.

"María, what is going on," you said. Before she could lie again, Ingrid and Alexia appeared in the doorway, the doctor behind them. Ingrid smiled softly when she saw you awake, moving forward to sit next to the bed, and kiss your temple. You returned her smile, but focused back on the doctor. He looked... not troubled, but like he was about to deliver bad news.

"What went wrong?" You asked him, feeling suddenly much more awake.

He smiled sympathetically. "Nothing went wrong, the surgery was successful. There was more damage to your surrounding muscles than we expected, so we had to go to the hamstring instead of the patellar tendon for replacement tissue. It means a slightly harder recovery, as you also need to strengthen the area where the graft came from."

You were quiet for a moment. You'd thought so hard about the surgery, considered every aspect, but didn't think that this was a possibility. You weren't quite sure what to think.

"How much longer will recovery be?" You asked.

"The time shouldn't be affected, but you'll be in more pain at the beginning." He explained. You let out a sigh of relief. You could handle more pain, what you couldn't handle was being off the pitch any longer than you already were going to have to be. The doctor informed you that you were free to go once you were more awake, confirming that you'd made a follow up appointment to remove the sutures, before leaving the room.

You looked down then, seeing your leg wrapped up in heavy white gauze, encased in a black brace. Your knee had been swollen before, yes, but it hadn't really looked like anything was wrong with it. Now, though, it was glaringly obvious, a stark reminder of the long months ahead.

"Hey, what are you thinking?" Ingrid asked, tearing you from your thoughts. It took you a minute to gather your thoughts, but when you did, you addressed everyone in the room, trying to put their obvious nerves at ease.

"It's fine. As long as I can get back to playing in the same amount of time, I don't care what they use. I can deal with the pain." You smiled at your girlfriends, and at Alexia. They all returned the gesture, glad to see that you weren't too upset.

-----

You were feeling less confident the next day. The initial drugs wore off, leaving you in considerably more pain than before. Your knee felt hot and swollen, and it throbbed painfully anytime you got up. You were in the extra bedroom, having insisted that Ingrid and Mapi sleep in your bedroom together, so no one would worry about accidentally bumping you. They were reluctant, and Mapi checked on you at least 10 times the first night.

Ingrid had finally managed to get a enough sleep, though, after struggling the whole time she was gone. She was exhausted, and slept for 14 hours. When she woke up, she was furious that you and Mapi hadn't woken her, seeing as though both of you had been up for hours. You, because your knee felt like it had been run over by a snow plow, and Mapi, also because your knee felt like it had been run over by a snow plow. She hated seeing you in pain, and she had hovered over you all morning.

Ingrid shuffled into the extra room a few minutes after finally waking up, curling up next to you in the bed.

"How are you?" She mumbled, looking up at you, face still scrunched with sleep. You smiled down at her, running your finger over the sleep lines etched into her skin.

"Did you sleep well?" You asked, ignoring her question. She yawned, snuggling into your good leg, laying her head on your thigh.

"Slept good. Would have slept better with you there, though." She said, voice muffled against your skin. "You didn't answer my question."

"It hurts." You said simply. You didn't want to talk about it, so you changed the subject. "I missed you." You said. You'd been so out of it yesterday, you didn't really feel like you had enjoyed having Ingrid back home.

"I missed you too, elskling. I'm sorry I wasn't home sooner."

"Don't be. You were where you needed to be. You're home now, that's all that matters." Ingrid smiled at you, eyes fluttering shut again. Sleepy Ingrid was your favorite, and you began to run your fingers through her thick hair, avoiding the tangles. She hummed with pleasure, relaxing further into you.

"How are you feeling, amor?" Mapi asked from the doorway, looking anxiously at you. The smile fell from your lips. Was this what the next 9 months would be like? Every nice moment interrupted by your stupid injury?

"I'm fine, Mapi." You said, voice slightly harsher than it needed to be.

-----

This began a new pattern to your behavior. When you were distracted, you were fine, happy to be with your girls. When you weren't distracted, though, you were miserable. In pain, mostly helpless, and in a foul mood. It only worsened when you girlfriend's asked you questions about how you were feeling; you knew you were being ridiculous, but you felt like the only think you guys talked about was your knee.

Your newfound grumpiness did not, however, mean that you were expressing your emotions. On the contrary, they had never been more inaccessible. Your anger never faltered into sadness; frustration, sure, but neither of your girls could get you to acknowledge that you were upset.

As the weeks passed, and the recovery felt like it was going too slow, you grew more resistant to the help your girlfriend's were anxious to provide. Things were tense around the house, your girlfriends felt like they were walking on eggshells around you, waiting for your frosty exterior to crack, which it eventually did.

-----

You were in the Barcelona gym, 3 weeks post op. You were doing simple exercises, walking from one end of the room to the other, bending and flexing your knee, raising up on your toes. Things that should be easy, but weren't any longer. Alexia was on the other side of the gym, doing a much more complicated exercise. Ingrid and Mapi were out on the pitch, presumably. There was just one physio with you guys today, watching carefully as you did the world's lamest and smallest squats, barely bending your knee, leaning against a table. There was soft music playing throughout the gym, and it was rather peaceful.

That is, until Alexia dropped the barbell she was lifting with a loud clatter. You startled at the sound, twisting without thinking to look towards the noise. As soon as you did, you realized your bad leg was still planted when you turned. It didn't turn much, but it was enough for your knee to erupt in pain.

"Fuck!" You shouted, and Alexia was at your side in a second, as was the physio. "Fuck, something's wrong, jesus," you said, leaning back on the table and taking the weight off your knee.

"Alright, relax, let me look," the physio said, guiding you to lay back on the table. Alexia moved to stand by your head, laying a hand on your shoulder.

"Something is wrong," you said again, even though the pain was rapidly fading. The physio looked at your knee, poking and prodding at it gently, before looking at you.

"How much does it hurt?" He asked calmly.

Tears were stinging your eyes, and your voice trembled as you responded. "Not-not much, it's fading."

"No pain?" He asked again after a minute, applying pressure to each side of your knee.

"No, not anymore," you choked out.

"I don't think anything is wrong. If it was, the pain wouldn't be fading. The incisions look fine. You're okay, you just tweaked it."

"No, no, no. Something is wrong, it doesn't feel right, Ale it doesn't feel right." You cried, turning your attention to Alexia over you, her hand moving up and down your arm. You were fully panicking now, tears falling freely down your face, hands gripping at your shirt as if to tether you to the present. Alexia exchanged a look with the physio.

"Chica, you're okay, this is normal, nothing is wrong." She assured you, but you just shook your head frantically in response.

"No, I messed something up," you gasp. You sat up suddenly, almost smacking your head into Alexia's face. "I need scans, I need to do something," you say, moving to get off the table. Your knee didn't hurt anymore, but you couldn't shake the feeling that you had messed something up, horribly so. Alexia stopped you, resting her hands on your shoulders, holding you down on the table.

"Y/n, you need to calm down. You haven't messed anything up, everything is okay." She soothed. It clearly wasn't working to calm you, so she turned to the physio. "Get Mapi and Ingrid," she murmured before turning her attention back to you.

"Come on, amiga, you need to calm down," Alexia said. You could only shake your head, broken sobs falling past your lips. You hid your face in your hands, completely disconnecting from the world around you. Your ears were ringing, the only thing you could hear was blood pumping in your ears. You didn't know how much time had passed before different set of hands were cradling your face, urging you to look up. You do, and find the worried faces of your girlfriends in front of you. Ingrid has her hands on your face, and Mapi has taken one of your hands in hers, squeezing gently.

"Somethings... wr-wrong, help," you get out, looking between them frantically.

"No kjære, it's okay, nothing is wrong." Ingrid promised. For some reason, you believed her when you hadn't believed the others.

"Are you- are you sure?" You asked.

"Yes, cariño, the physio said you just tweaked it. You are completely fine." Mapi said softly.

"I didn't mess it up?"

"No, darling, you didn't mess anything up."

You nodded jerkily, leaning forward to rest your head on Ingrid's sternum, tugging on Mapi's hand until she moves closer.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry about the barbell, it slipped out of my hands," Alexia begins from the other side of the table, and you can hear the guilt in her voice.

"It's okay, Ale, it's not your fault." You mumbled into Ingrid's chest, reaching a hand out to the side. Alexia grabs it sighing in relief, squeezing once, before pulling away, giving you and your girlfriends some privacy. You stayed hidden away, leaning against Ingrid. You're clearly still emotional, but you don't seem interested in speaking, or moving again. It's quiet for a few moments, before you finally pulling away, wiping at your eyes.

"Can we go home?" You asked.

"Yeah, let's go home." Mapi agreed easily. You stood, taking a tentative step. Your face burns with embarrassment when you don't feel anything out of the ordinary in your knee. You'd freaked out for nothing. Absolutely nothing.

-----

You'd been sitting in silence on the couch since you'd arrived home 20 minutes ago, staring blankly at the dark TV. Your knee was propped up in Ingrid's lap, an icepack wrapped snuggly around the swollen appendage. Mapi was on your other side, resisting the urge to take you by the shoulders, shake you, and beg you to talk to them. Her and Ingrid had agreed to let you come to them, though. There was no use pushing you. Their patience is finally rewarded.

"Sorry I freaked out and you both had to leave training early." You said, raw voice startling your girlfriend's out of their thoughts.

"Don't be so-"

"-Please don't tell me not to be sorry. I've been such a burden for weeks, and you keep telling me not to be sorry about it. I am sorry about it, and I don't understand why you aren't annoyed with me." You cut in, spitting the words with an intensity neither of women was expecting.

"You are not a burden, y/n," Ingrid said, hurt bleeding into her tone.

"Yes I am," you dismiss. "You've had to do everything for me these past few weeks, and all I've done is act like the world has ended. It's just a knee injury, I don't know why I'm acting like this."

"Amor, it is okay if you feel like the world has ended. This is a big thing, and you are allowed to feel things. You don't have to push everything down, it's not healthy."

You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact. "You already have to take care of me. You shouldn't have to deal with the mess inside my head too."

"You could not be burden, darling, not to us. We don't mind taking care of you, not at all. And we want to know what's going on inside your head. It's been driving us crazy, not knowing what you're feeling. We want to know, y/n, we want to know it all." Ingrid's voice has a clear undertone of determination in it.

"You guys are so busy," you argue weakly. They were; the past weeks juggling you and the team had been draining. It was obvious to you. They hadn't realized how much you'd noticed it.

"We are never too busy for you, amor, and I'm so sorry if we've made you feel like we are." Mapi said gently. "You are our priority."

You finally looked up at them, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "It's just been hard. You guys get to go play, and I stay here, or go to the gym. And you spend all this time together at training. All the time you spend with me is you guys making sure my knee is okay."

Both of your girlfriend's faces are ones of horror at your confession. They hadn't realized you'd been feeling like this, not at all.

Mapi places a hard kiss on your temple, resting her chin on your head. "If I could switch places with you, cariño, I would. Watching you go through this, be in so much pain, has been killing me. I want to fix it, but I can't. All I can do is try to help, try to make you feel better. I didn't mean to make you feel like you were just a task for us, just a chore to be taken care of. You are our girl, nuestra niña bonita, and we love you, more than anything."

There are silent tears falling from your eyes when Mapi is done talking. She's said everything you've needed to hear this whole time, but were too nervous, too worried about being a burden to them to ask for their reassurance. Ingrid's hand lifts, carefully wiping a tear off your cheek, prompting you to look at her.

"No more of this, okay? When you need us, whether it's attention, or our help with something, or just a distraction, you tell us. You tell us, and we'll do it, whatever you need. You're not alone in this, darling. We're here for anything, really. Just like you would be for us if the roles were reversed."

You feel slightly silly when she reminds you of that. Obviously, you would do everything within your power to help one of your girlfriend's if they were going through this. Why you expected them to not really want to do the same was beyond you.

"Okay." You murmur, eyes on Ingrid as she scoots closer, pressing into your other side. You've been reminded of something, something Ingrid had promised you over the phone. Whatever you want, she'd said. You knew what you wanted, and you knew you needed to ask for it.

"Could I ask for something now?" You wonder quietly, and you hear Mapi laugh above you, clearly anticipating what you're about to ask for. Ingrid has the decency to pretend she doesn't know.

"What would that be?" She asks, placing her hand on your upper thigh.

"You promised me something about you and Mapi doing whatever I wanted?" You grin.

"Hmm, do you think you're ready for that, elskling?"

"God, yes. I'm ready, I promise." Your voice is already needy, already desperate.

"Mapi, go get things ready." Ingrid instructed, and you feel Mapi rise from next to you, and walk away into the bedroom.

"How do you know what to get ready if I haven't said what I want?" You questioned, looking up into the Norwegian's dark eyes.

Ingrid leaned forward, pressing light kisses in a trail up your jaw, stopping just by your ear. "I know what you want better than you do, pretty girl. I thought you knew that by now."

You shivered with excitement. "Don't be too careful with me, okay?"

"We'll be as careful as we need to be," Ingrid promised. Ingrid's lips meet yours, pressing harder than she has in weeks. It's the most she's touched you since your surgery, really, and you wrap your arms around her neck, pulling her closer. The wait will have been worth it, you're sure of that.

-----

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Irresistible {5} || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader Summary: You’re finally accustomed to life in the paddock but still have no interest in the sport. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, angst, panic attack, cheating, kind of taboo (future stepbrother) WC: 3.3k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six

Charles liked to watch you sleep. He could happily spend all his time memorising the way your eyelashes fanned out, fluttering now and again with whatever dreams you faced. He found peace with your relaxed state, your head on his chest, your legs tangled with his.

That peace was broken with your phone's vibrating alert.

Charles should have ignored it, let the call go to voicemail but he was angry that his time with you was disturbed. Easing you on to your own pillow, he spared a glance to check you were still asleep before swiping your phone up.

“Hello Max,” he answered as he closed the bedroom door. “How can I help you?”

Max ground his teeth at the idea of asking anything from Charles, but he took a calming breath first. “Can you pass the phone Y/N?”

“No,” Charles replied after a long pause meant to torture the Dutch driver.

“Why not?”

“Because she is asleep.” Charles pulled the phone away to hang up but Max’s voice sounded in the quiet room.

“It’s never going to work out,” he stated bluntly. “If it’s not your career, it’ll be your family, but one will be ruined.”

Charles' hand tightened around the phone and it was a miracle the screen didn’t crack from the force of it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then you are as stupid as you act.”

The call ended and Charles liked to think he hit the red button first before he tossed the phone onto the couch and collapsed down beside it. His peace was well and truly gone as Max’s words repeated in his head, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t already told himself. He had tried to listen to reason and failed miserably. He had to have you, and it was more than just infatuation. He wasn’t just tempted by you, he was consumed by you.

He could never let you go.

“Who were you talking to?” you murmured as Charles climbed back into bed. Sensing the cold space beside you, you had woken to hear Charles on the other side of the door.

“No one, ma biche,” he soothed as he pulled you back where you belonged. You cozied your head on his chest and listened to his rapid heartbeat begin to slow. “Sleep now, we have an early flight.”

—

The room spun at a dizzying speed and you closed your eyes as you held on tighter.

“You’re going to make yourself sick,” Charles chuckled, catching the office chair and jolting you to a stop.

“I’m so bored,” you complained as the room still continued to sway. “Do you ever get to finish early and, I don’t know…do something fun?”

Charles massaged your shoulders, the most he could get away with as a friendly touch. “It’s busier this weekend,” he apologised. “It’s the 70th anniversary of F1.”

You might not know much about the sport but you knew that. There were signs everywhere to remind you.

“We’ll do something fun after the race,” he promised before his and was called.

Something had been happening with the car, so the readings or data said, and it took all of Charles' attention between practices. More than usual. You were left to try to form your own entertainment but it was a losing battle.

It appeared the party was moving from the garage to the hospitality building so you followed, clutching Charles shoulder with instant regret for spinning in the chair.

“A little dizzy?” he teased quietly in your ear. “Or are your legs still weak from this morning?”

You lightly slapped his chest and as the motion of the earth moving under your feet subsided you put a respectable distance between you both. Charles just couldn’t help himself when sat beside you as the meeting continued over plates of food, his hand finding your thigh after ‘dropping’ his napkin.

“Why don’t you go for a drive and I’ll meet up with you for dinner?” he offered, seeing your eyes glaze over when his engineer started talking statistics. He slipped his keys into your hand and kissed the air beside your cheeks. You would have preferred a French kiss but the friendly one would have to do.

You were grateful for the escape he offered and clutched the keys as you stood up, excusing yourself from the table. “What’s the speed limit around here?” you teased as you backed away.

Charles' eyes narrowed in warning but it only made you smirk as he growled, “Bambi…”

Xavi cocked an eyebrow at the nickname, his eyes looking between the two of you like he was trying to connect the dots. “Why do you call her Bambi?”

“Because my mother is dead,” you answered, knowing how quickly questions were dropped when death was mentioned. Charles choked on the drink he was sipping but you were already out of the door before he could say anything.

You could taste the freedom on your tongue as you rushed through the paddock but it came to a halt when Max stepped out of the Red Bull garage. Decked out in his navy shirt and matching trousers, you couldn’t actually recall seeing him in anything except the merch.

“Should I tell security that the woman who looks remarkably like you went that way?” he asked, pointing in the opposite direction. “You are running from them, aren’t you, schat?”

You laughed at the idea and leaned closer. “Someone may or may not have let the air out of Lewis’ tires...”

Max’s eyes sparkled with mischief and he grabbed your hand, tugging you back into his hospitality unit.

“What are you doing?” you asked between giggles.

“Can’t have this someone getting arrested, not on my watch,” he promised as he led the way through the building to a private room similar to Charles’. “We can hide in here.”

“Let me guess, the name on the door will protect me?” you joked as you took a seat on the couch and picked up the PlayStation controller. “What are you playing?”

He turned the tv on as he sat beside you. “FIFA, but there’s other games over there.”

You reached for the stack of plastic cases and rolled your eyes at the F1 game as you shuffled through the titles. You hadn’t heard of half of them, but the ones you knew of were what Charles played at home.

“Don’t you have a debrief or whatever?” you asked curiously. He seemed like he had been relaxing in the room for some time given the half full bottle of water and protein snack wrappers on the coffee table.

“Not for me, my car is running good. Is that what Charles is busy doing?”

You sent him a peeved look at the mocking tone and he sent an innocent smile back. “If you don’t have a meeting, does that mean you can leave?”

“I probably shouldn’t stray too far, but I don’t have to stay here. Where were you thinking of going?” he asked as he saw you toying with the key to a Ferrari.

“I don't know,” you admitted, “anywhere that is a change of scenery.”

Max sat up and swiped the keys. “I know somewhere. It’s not much of a change but it’s close by.”

“Can I have my keys back?”

Holding them over his head, he backed away to the door and opened it. “Come and get them,” he dared.

Your faux huff of annoyance only made him smile more before he pulled his facemask on. “You’re a child, you know that!”

He chuckled as you followed him out of the room and when you drew level with him he dipped his head down. “If you really think that I’m a child then you shouldn’t be dreaming about me.”

“Gross,” you said with a roll of your eyes.

“You didn’t deny it though.”

A laugh bubbled up and you elbowed his ribs. “Shut up. And just to confirm, I don’t dream about you.”

Max looked straight ahead as he turned out of the hospitality building and down the path that went to the car park. “No, you probably dream of brown hair and green eyes.”

You stumbled over a crack in the concrete before you recovered with heated cheeks. “Yes, Harry Styles is frequently in my dreams. You don’t happen to have his number by any chance?”

“Even if I did, I don’t think I could give it to you,” he said after a few steps.

“Why not?”

Blue eyes burned as he stopped to face you, his fingers reaching for your cheek before he caught himself and pulled back. “I’d be too jealous, schat. That’s why. Now are we breaking out of here or what?”

Less than fifteen minutes away Max pulled into another racetrack and you groaned as you heard the whizz of engines flying by.

“I thought you were taking me somewhere different!”

“It is different,” he argued with a laugh as he was given entry by someone in a Red Bull shirt. “MotoGP is way more insane.”

“Moto…w-we should head back.” The high scream of the motorcycles tore past again as you stepped out among the almost empty grandstands. Your eyes could barely track them with the speeds they were reaching, but you couldn’t look away.

“We still have plenty of time,” Max said, clearly interested in the race that was going on. “Do you want to get a closer look? We can go down to the team.”

Your hands began to shake and you buried them in your pockets as another pair of riders flew into a corner together. The tail of one motorcycle clipped the other and they both went crashing to the ground, skidding across the track and into the gravel. Nausea knotted your stomach and you dropped down into the seat, burying your head between your knees as you drew ragged breaths into your lungs.

Engines idled and sirens rang, but your heartbeat was louder than it all.

“Schat? Hey, talk to me,” Max called out but you couldn’t hear him over the throbbing beat in your ears. He tried a few more times before he fumbled for his phone and for the first time he hoped he would answer.

Charles apologised for his phone interrupting the meeting and usually he would have turned it off or on silent but you weren’t with him. Paranoia, protectiveness, call it whatever, but it made him leave the phone on loud.

He nearly declined the call when he saw Max’s name come up but something turned in his stomach as he innately knew it would be about you.

“Scusami,” he said as he left the room to take the call, dreading what he would hear. You assured him that Max was only a friend, but doubt ate at him every time he thought of the two of you hanging out. He knew Max wouldn’t keep you in the shadows, he knew Max could give you the relationship you wanted. He hated Max for reminding him constantly when you weren’t around to hear it.

Charles accepted the call and lifted his phone to his ear but he wasn't prepared to hear your sobs.

“What the fuck, Max!” Charles growled as he arrived, having sped from the nearby Silverstone track.

Max was stressed and combed a hand through his hair, grateful that Charles answered the call. “I don’t know what's wrong with her.”

Warm hands tore your face mask away and the air was no longer as hard to breathe. Those same hands cradled your cheeks and wiped away the tears that ran down them as they lifted your face.

“Breathe, biche,” Charles whispered as he pressed his forehead to yours. “Big breaths. In and out, that’s it. In and out. Good girl.”

You missed the touch of his skin as he pulled away to glare at Max. “What the hell were you thinking bringing her here?”

Max wiped his face, his cheeks coloured from the worry he felt as he watched you fall into a state of cold panic. He had called Charles, not knowing what else to do and your broken whimpers went silent as soon as he arrived.

“I didn’t know this would happen, obviously,” Max growled back. He hated how quickly you calmed at another man’s touch, how you hadn’t even reacted to his attempts to help. “Is she afraid of motorcycles?”

Charles softly brushed his hands over your hair, feeling the damp sweat from your fear, before he cupped his hands over your ears. It didn’t stop you from hearing his soft words. “Her mother died on one.”

Charles wrapped his arms around you and pulled you onto his lap, cradling you close as he glared at Max who looked ill. You couldn’t imagine how you looked, but you figured it was worse. “I swear I didn’t know,” Max muttered, reaching for you only for Charles to shield you in his arms.

Charles scoffed. “Because you don’t know her, so stop trying to and just leave her alone.”

Your strength was slowly returning and you shifted in an attempt to stand up but he held you closer. “He’s my friend, Charles.”

Charles' lips brushed the shell of your ear as he whispered, “He wants to be more, ma biche.”

The crash wasn’t as severe as your mind had assumed when you heard the sirens and the race was restarting, the engines revving as they left the pit lane. The sound had a shudder run down your spine and Charles felt it before realising why.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Charles soothed as he stood up.

“I can carry her,” Max offered, but Charles cut him off with a glare.

“She’s mine- uh, my step sister,” he stammered as he kept walking further from the track.

“Put me down, I can walk,” you said as you arched your back and he was at risk of dropping you. When your feet were back on firm ground you turned to Charles and your eyes softened at the protective look in his. “Thank you for coming here for me-“

“Always.”

“-but I’m fine now,” you continued as you took a step closer to Max. “We’ll meet you back there, okay?”

Charles' head snapped side to side with a sharp shake, “No, not okay.”

Max’s ego seemed to be revitalised with the small step you took and he moved half in front of you. “Mate, you’re not her boyfriend or her father, so stop thinking you have a say in what she can do.”

“She’s here for me, she’s travelling with me,” Charles stated coldly before he looked around the MotoGP buildings with distaste. “And I know what’s best for her.”

“Enough!” you shouted and you put yourself between them. “I just want to go, please.”

Charles sighed at the soft plea and nodded reluctantly. “I’ll see you in the garage.”

You watched him leave in another Ferrari that he had likely borrowed from his teammate, Sebastian, while Max opened the passenger seat of Charles’ car for you. 

“I didn’t know about your mother,” he said softly as he buckled his seatbelt and turned the engine on.

You turned your gaze out the window and shook your head. “Don’t worry, it was years ago. I barely even knew her.”

You felt his hand on your thigh and you closed your eyes as they stung with fresh tears. “I’m so sorry, schat. Let me make it up to you, tonight. Let me take you out on a date, a proper date this time.”

“I can’t,” you mumbled to your lap.

“Why not?”

A fair question, you thought, but not one you were prepared to answer when neither of you had been so bold as to admit what both of you knew. “I can’t date you, or anyone.”

Max’s hand retreated and he scoffed. “Charles.”

“I can’t date anyone when I am in love with someone else. What I need is a friend.”

The tension in the tiny interior grew and Silverstone approached, before Max finally nodded. “Friends, okay. I can be your friend, schat. I’ll be the best fucking friend you have, and when this man you love fucks up and breaks your heart - I’ll be there to put it back together. Okay?”

The declaration had been weeks in the making and you choked down the sudden lump of emotion in your throat. You prayed the day would never come that Charles broke your heart but still found yourself nodding. “Okay, but Max…a friend wouldn’t call me schat.”

He smiled and shrugged, content that you hadn’t just shut him down completely - which would have been the kind thing to do. “I’ll just have to find another name for you then.”

Max walked you back to the Ferrari garage, ignoring the looks he received from the mechanics questioning his presence, but he wanted to make sure you arrived without incident. He was still feeling guilty for the panic attack that had left you drained and you promised you would rest once you were inside. 

Charles barely looked up from his seat on the couch in his room, but you knew he knew you were there from the way his shoulders stiffened. Sitting beside him, you took one of hands and inspected the short nails and the ruined cuticle before enclosing it in yours. 

“I wasn’t sure you were going to come back,” he admitted, barely above a whisper.

“There is only one place I want to be. This…friction between you has to stop. He is my friend and nothing more,” you said as you tipped your head onto his shoulder. 

Warm lips pressed to your forehead. “It felt like you chose him over me. I could hardly think clearly enough to drive.”

“Never, Charles. I love you, as crazy as that may be. No one will know me like you do, Charles. No one else could make me crazy enough to think we could ever have a happy ending - but you do.” His shoulders bounced with a small laugh and you shifted onto his lap so you could cup his face in your palms. “Max knows my heart belongs to another man, to you. He knows friendship is the only thing I can offer him.”

“I don’t like it,” Charles grumbled, his hands finding their way to your waist.

You laughed and kissed his pouting lips before pulling back. “You don’t have to like it, but I need friends. I moved to a new country and then spent four months with one person.”

“Two,” he interjected before zipping his mouth shut.

“I haven’t been able to meet anyone except for your friends and there is a pretty big shortage of females around here.”

Charles inhaled deeply before sighing. “I understand, Max is the closest to a female you could find.” His lips kicked up in a smirk and he tensed, expecting your punch to his shoulder as he laughed. “No, no, I do understand. I didn’t even think about how lonely you must be, I’m sorry, ma biche.”

You accepted his apology with another kiss and smirked when he pulled you closer on his lap. “Is this the cure for my loneliness?” you asked as you felt him growing hard beneath you.

“I don’t know, but I think we should test every possibility.”Your response was stolen by a knock at the door and Charles groaned as he was told to start warming up for the next practice. He dropped his forehead to yours before shifting you back onto the couch as he stood up and rearranged the bulge in his trousers. “Fuck, I was warming up.”

Chuckling, you made yourself comfortable on the couch with his jacket as a pillow. “Put all that energy to good use and wake me when you are done.”

“Oh I’ll wake you, ma biche,” he said with a wink, “but you didn’t say how.”

Click here for part six.