#(that's a lie. i had two wishes. but this sounded more dramatic)

[thatlittledandere]

It's a small character moment but I appreciate that they decided to make Ibushi viscerally uncomfortable with Zundar eating a snail in front of him. Molluscophobic bae. This is the most emotion we've gotten from him so far, tightly balled fists and everything.

[annwrites]

⸻ a call to arms. part three. ⸻

· pairing: jacaerys velaryon x dragonseed!reader · type: part of a series · summary: jace takes you on your first flying lesson. · word count: 5,645

He'd already woken up in a sour mood at the prospect of having to waste his day at your side, yet again, while he teaches you how to ride something you've no business having in the first place.

He'd swallowed it down, however, with specific plans in mind for this afternoon.

He would show you first how it's done, soaring through the skies with ease atop Vermax. His dragon would breathe great plumes of fire, which he'd then swoop directly through without an ounce of fear.

Once he landed, you would look at him with awe and reverence, begging him to take you up next.

He'd intended for today to be less of a headache. The two of you would not spend it arguing.

It would, instead, be similar in nature to how you'd ended the night last: calmly, Jacaerys kindly teaching you Valyrian terms he assumes you may have interest in knowing, and with a gentle touch. Or mayhaps a few...

Instead, when he'd sent for you, you'd not been in your chambers.

You'd, apparently, gone out to walk along the beach with your guard, as if this is all some sort of holiday away from home.

His ire had been promptly stoked, and had turned to seething rage as he watched from the castle's walkway as the two of you conversed and touched one another.

You, placing a hand upon the man's chest, and he upon your arm, your lower back, your waist. You merely smiled like an empty-headed idiot all the while.

As if you are unfamiliar with the ways of wanton men.

He should have the knight's hands cut off for such an offense. For touching that which he is not meant to have.

Not that you are spoken for—Jace has had few words with his own betrothed the last few days, always claiming to be otherwise occupied—but your priorities lie elsewhere now. Not in taking long walks on beaches with...rough-handed men.

He shall begin the day by teaching both of you a lesson then.

Jacaerys clenches his jaw, tightening his grip around the pommel of his sword as he comes ever-closer, gritting his teeth at the sound of you laughing contentedly at what he's sure is an ignorant joke the knight has just told you to earn your approval.

And then he does it again: touches your back, sliding his palm along it, keeping you somewhat close to his side.

Too close.

Jacaerys plants his booted feet firmly in damp sand, settles his arms behind his back, and clears his throat.

You jump in surprise.

"Ser Myles," he says, glancing to the knight's arm, before meeting his eyes once more. "Is that any way to treat the young woman you've been tasked with the protection of?"

His hand suddenly falls away, and your brows furrow.

"Forgive me, My Prince, I meant no harm by the gesture."

Jacaerys takes a step forward. "No, I think you meant something entirely different."

Your eyes flit between the two men, while your heart begins to pound in your chest at the boy's insinuation.

Myles remains silent, so Jacaerys shrugs dramatically. "What? Nothing to say for yourself, then? You are given the duty of keeping her safe, and she's here not even a week, and already you are being untoward. How should I see such an action? Hm?"

You step in front of Myles, putting yourself between the two of them. "He was merely keeping me company while I collected shells. He's done nothing wrong."

Jacaerys stares you down. "You will address me properly, and you will hold your tongue. You speak only when spoken to, is that understood?"

You ball your hands into fists before crossing your arms.

Jacaerys settles his gaze upon Myles then, loathing him all the more for his handsome smattering of dark facial hair, his tanned face, his broad form.

As if he'd not already felt insecure enough, day-by-day he wishes more and more to crawl out of his own skin. This one is no different, and he'd so prayed it would be.

Myles speaks. "I assure you, My Prince, no disrespect was intended toward Y/N. We were only—"

Jace raises his brows incredulously.

"You seem on quite comfortable terms with my—" He pauses, but only for the briefest of moments. "One of my mother's dragonseeds."

"How else is he meant to address me?" You ask, interrupting once again.

Jacaerys steps closer to you, forcing you to lean your head back to meet his eyes. "You will be silent."

He looks to Ser Myles, jerking his head toward Dragonstone. "You are dismissed."

The man bows his head, glancing to you for but a moment while you give him a sympathetic look in return, before he steps away.

Your eyes are full of fire when they meet Jacaerys' once more. "That was entirely uncalled for."

He grabs you roughly by the arm, glaring at you.

"My Prince," he hisses.

You yank your arm from his grip, sneering at him—and, as you've finally had it with his insufferable ways; his condescending, haughty attitude, you tell him what you really think.

"Royal arsehole!" You shout, stomping away.

His jaw drops, his mind going blank at your display of sheer disrespect.

"W—What did you just call me?!" He yells shrilly.

He races to catch up to you, repeating himself.

"What did you just call me?!" He shouts, his voice echoing across the water.

You pay him no mind as you throw a lock of hair over your shoulder, holding your head high as you continue swiftly walking away in the other direction.

His patience now at its end, he grabs you by the wrist, and begins pulling you back toward the castle. "You insolent little harlot! You'll pay for that! I could have your tongue for such—"

You try to yank yourself away again, but he holds firm, turning back to you with flared nostrils and a set jaw.

"You want to know what I think?!"

"No! I don't think I particularly do! But what I know—" he says, stalking toward you while you shuffle your feet to get away, desperate for him to release you. "Is that this behavior ceases—today!"

He shoves you into a narrow alcove, putting the two of you out-of-sight.

He pushes you into the side of the cavern, and you dare to push him back—shoving against his chest, once, twice—before finally raising a hand to him, which he quickly catches in his strong grip.

He pins you against a damp stone wall, his face mere inches from your own as his warm breath fans over you—combating the cold of the sea while he holds your hands above your head.

"If you ever raise a hand to me again," he says lowly—quietly—his body now flush against your own. "I will take it. What you just did is treason."

He positions his lips next to your ear. "Go on, then. Try me. See how far I let you get after such a stunt. You think me weak? Easy to strong-arm?"

He squeezes your wrists painfully.

"I doubt it. You've no idea who you're testing. I am your future king," he spits. "And you will obey me, you little bitch."

He pulls back, his brown eyes boring into your own. "You think your comely looks make you special? Think they're all you need, so as to easily fool and take advantage of men? To get your way?"

He leans in closer. "I am not so easily corrupted."

Your lip twitches and he curls his own in response.

"What do you think are laughing at?" He barks.

You glance down, to where his erection is firmly pressed against your stomach, then back into his eyes. "I was going to tell you that I think you jealous."

You glower at him. "And merely a green boy who has no idea what in Seven Hells he's doing."

He looks down then as well, and his face goes starch-white.

He stutters, desperately grasping for words, for explanation, for any feeling that isn't utter mortification, before he looks at you again.

You raise a brow, a bored expression now having overtaken your features as you wait for him to decide what he wants to do with you.

You're sure you already know.

Finally, he growls. slamming your arms against stone one last time before releasing you, adjusting himself, then stalking away, leaving you alone...and trembling.

It's some time before you return to the castle.

You'd wished to cool down first, so you'd waded through the sea for awhile—only up to your ankles in the cool saltwater—as you gathered further shells for your sister. But no pearls, quite expectantly.

You're unsure that you regret what occurred with the prince this morn.

Regret for his sake? Never. For your own? Were you not a dragonrider...you would already be dead by now.

You need be far more careful in the future. Your pride is not worth more than your life. Not when you have others depending upon you to make it home to them. To look after them once you have.

Wish that you could remain out here all evening, but, before long, you catch a chill and begin heading inside so as to get warm again in front of the fire.

What had the royal pain in your arse even wanted in the first place, anyway? Had he really come all the way outside and across the beach just to chastise another man for touching you?

You throw yourself back on your bed, not much caring.

He is a child playing at being a man. Nothing more.

Even if those same...manly parts had stirred something inside of you.

As if he is your usual type.

No. He is insufferable.

Jacaerys rubs feverishly at his throbbing erection, his eyes closed—free hand firmly gripping the wall as he works desperately toward his release.

He imagines you bent over his lap as he wails against your backside until it is lovely shades of blood-red and purple, while you beg either for more, or for his mercy.

My Prince, Gods, My Prince...

His lip twitches, turning into a pleased grin as you beg for him.

I will obey, I swear it by the Seven, you whine.

None else shall touch me, you whisper.

Only you, you moan, making him a solemn vow.

He struggles to picture what the rest of you might look like. Your breasts are not much of a quandary for him—he has seen wet-nurses tending to his younger brothers—but rather between your legs.

He is still yet...unaware.

And you had read him like a book on that, hadn't you? More than once. It is humiliating: for you, a girl, to know more than he. About anything.

He imagines you pinned to that wall again, your dress—one of soft grey and pearlescent white he'd chosen for you—in tatters at your feet as you stroke and please him...with your mouth.

That is certainly one way to earn your silence, he muses.

And he much enjoys it.

"Gods, Y/N," he whispers heatedly, wanting you in here with him instead.

He—fuck—he needs you. Needs you on your back, on your knees, on your belly, in every which way. Wants...wants you to teach him. To pleasure him. To allow him to pleasure you. To—to...

"Oh, Gods, yeeees," he drawls, his hot, thick cum spurting out of the tip of his weeping, purple cock as he fills with relief.

His strokes eventually slow, before ceasing altogether, a long tendril of cum hanging from his erection, which he rubs his thumb over.

His body feels hot all over, his cheeks are flushed, and his heart is hammering away in his chest, but Gods, could he use yet another round.

Apparently three had not been nearly enough...

But he knows the day is still young, and you still need him to teach you how to ride Silverwing.

That is what he needs, he thinks, as he cleans himself up. To ride the skies. It will get him out of his head. Will cool him down. Will distract him.

He knows what he truly wants, however...

Something which he will never admit.

Even if the evidence lies plainly before him on an old rag...

There is a knock at your door, interrupting you from your current task of washing off your sister's shells.

You pad toward the door, then blank when you open it, to find Prince Jacaerys standing on the other side.

He tosses you a bundle of clothes, which you barely manage to catch within your arms.

"Put these on," he commands, shoving past you, shutting the door firmly behind himself.

You turn, watching as he pours himself a glass of water, which he drinks down greedily before pouring another, seating himself at your dining table.

"W—what?"

He looks at you with a bored expression. "Are you deaf?"

You look at the clothes—which are all leather and thick velvet, with light fur—then back to him. "What're these for?"

He shrugs a shoulder lightly. "You'll see."

He nods toward your changing screen. "Now, put them on. I won't ask again. We don't have all day."

You briefly consider telling him that, without his little outburst, perhaps whatever new lessons you're about to be given could've been started sooner, but refrain.

You'll need bite your tongue more often from now own, lest you lose it altogether. And then how will you command Silverwing in battle?

In truth, you'd rather not think on the issue too long.

Every day that passes where you are not forced back into the dragonpit to finally learn how to ride her is a great relief. Even if it leaves you on the edge of your seat, waiting with dread for when you're finally summoned to do so.

You shift on your feet, clutching the clothing to your chest. "I need privacy."

He rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his water. "There is a screen, and I hardly intend to look. Now, do as your prince commands."

Royal prick, you think, walking behind the sheer screen, setting your new garments down.

You know looking is precisely what he means to do. Elsewise, he would not still be in here.

Boys.

Jacaerys, to his credit, tries to look out the window instead, but staring at a pane of glass is not why he'd come. It's like he can't fucking help himself. And he feels shameful for it. Nevertheless, he does it anyway.

He watches.

Watches as a candle casts your form in a soft shadow against the screen.

Watches as you remove your gown, and then your smallclothes, leaving you bare—Jace only having his imagination to picture what is on the other side.

There is the soft swell of your breasts, a tuft of hair above your pelvis, your round backside that he'd pictured in his mind's eye but a few minutes earlier as he spanked it raw. Your supple thighs, the feminine curve of your waist.

He glances nervously to the doorway.

If he were to be caught with you like this... He does not want to imagine the fallout that would ensue between not just he and Baela, but between his mother and her father.

And he knows he's enough of a coward that he would place the blame entirely at your feet.

He wants to convince himself he would do otherwise, but doubt clouds such convictions.

He looks back, watching as you pull on your new riding pants, and he adjusts himself over his own, his cock filling with blood...again.

He shakes his head, standing, stepping across the room to stare outside.

He needs to throw himself into the sea for awhile. A long while.

Finally, you clear your throat, interrupting the silence.

Jacaerys turns back to you, pleased that it all seems to fit. It'd been a measure his mother had ordered from their servants: to have you fit for new garments once you'd claimed Silverwing.

He comes toward you. "How does it feel? Are the boots too snug?"

You walk in a few small circles and his lip twitches at the sight, before you come to a stop, looking at him.

You shake your head. "I think they're fine."

He gently tugs against the hem of your tunic before circling you, looking you over—every inch.

When he's standing before you once more, he gives you a small nod. "Follow me."

Your eyes widen in terror as Jacaerys leads you toward the dragonpit.

"W—where're we—what're we—going—doing?"

Jacaerys keeps on, growing nearer and nearer to that familiar set of large double-doors. "Today, you will learn how to fly your new mount. You needn't worry, I will be on Vermax and—"

You stop in your tracks, fighting back tears. "I—I don't want to."

He barely looks at you as he grabs you by the forearm, dragging you forward, closer to those doors.

Doors you thought you'd never walk out of. Doors that had trapped you and dozens of others inside a dark room while two blood-thirsty beasts feasted upon them.

You can still hear the screams.

Can smell the fire—the thick, black plumes of smoke which had threatened to choke the life from you.

You see their flesh falling from their bones.

Can hear one man crying for his mother.

Another girl crying for her baby.

When those same doors close behind you, you panic.

You wrench your arm away from him and run in the opposite direction. You're not thinking. Or you are, but only of survival.

He yells after you, but you hardly hear it. All you do is the screams. The roars of the dragons. Death rattles.

You hide yourself away in a dark corner, clamping your hands over your ears, rocking back and forth, willing it to be over.

It will all be over soon...

You squeeze your eyes shut, making yourself as small as possible.

You want your father.

Your mother.

Your little girl. You want to hold her one last time. Please, Gods, please.

"Look at me!"

It is only once he has pulled your hands away from your ears that you realize you're screaming.

Jacaerys takes your tear-stricken face between his palms, his eyes searching your own. "You're safe! She won't hurt you, you have my word!"

"Please!" You beg him as you choke on your tears. "P—Please, My Prince, I beg of you! Gods, I'm so sorry! Y—You're right: I'll be obedient! A good little girl—your whore—whatever you wish! I'll obey you, I swear it! Please, please, I have to leave!"

His heart breaks at the sight of your crumpled face—your violently shaking body—the words you offer him. You'd do anything he says in this moment, you're that frightened of what his mother had subjected you to.

And to think that he'd sniggered at the idea of feeding you to Vermax...

How could he have?

"My little girl! I want my little girl!" You cry, trying to push past him, your eyes set on those large doors, until he pulls you against his chest—the two of you collapsing in a tangle of limbs as he holds onto you with all his might.

He shooshes you, smooths your hair with his hand, rocks you gently.

"You're safe, you're safe," he repeats so many times that he quickly loses count of just how many.

"She is your dragon now," he tells you with wide eyes, "She will obey you. She means you no harm. She chose you. Wants you to be her rider, the sole body who commands her. You can trust her, I swear this to you."

You shake your head, not wishing to listen.

"I am here!" He shouts. "I won't allow any harm to befall you, you have my word, Y/N! As long as you are with me, you are safe!"

You break into a fit of sobs, clutching at his chest.

"So sorry, so sorry, so—"

He cradles the back of your head, tears stinging his own eyes.

His mother had stood there and watched. Had watched like it was some marvelous spectacle, instead of dozens of people fighting for their lives after coming to offer her their aid.

And he had been grateful for their deaths. All those people. They'd...they'd had families, too. They'd been unaware of what they were walking into.

He is a monster, he realizes, feeling ill.

After some time, you begin to quiet, your sobs turning into quiet hiccups, your body drained.

"I don't..." You trail off, unsure what you even want to say.

He tightens his arms around you.

"You...you did not say... That you have children."

He is not pleased by it, but also not entirely surprised. So, you've a bastard child with a man who chose to leave you both behind. He is not sure if that says more about you, or he.

Your brows furrow.

"What?" You ask quietly.

"You kept begging...for your little girl."

You slump against him.

"My little sister," you explain.

"My father died when I was young. And after...my mother became a ghost of herself. It became my responsibly to look after us all. No matter that I was still a child myself. There was this night..."

You grow quiet for a moment before continuing.

"I was reading to my sister in bed. She...she called me 'mama'. I didn't...know what to do with that. So, I let it go. Until she did it again. My mother didn't even care. I tried, gently, to explain to her not to refer to me by that term, but she didn't seem to grasp the things I was telling her. Why she shouldn't."

Jace rests his cheek against the crown of your head.

"Somewhere along the way, I began to think of her as my daughter. Maybe she is now. I don't know. I just... I miss her more than I can bear. I feel like a piece of my chest is missing now. I want to be back with her."

Jace swallows down the lump in his throat. "My younger brother, Luke... Aemond killed him. I did not...act as a father to him, necessarily, but I looked after him. Tried to teach him. I miss him every day."

You gingerly take one of his hands in your own.

"I heard about that... Storm's End?"

He nods.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

He presses a kiss to your hair. "Me as well."

A beat of silence.

"I know you do not wish to, but you have to learn."

You stir in his arms, so he holds you close yet still.

"I will ride with you. On Silverwing. I promise you—I swear to you—that she will bring you no harm. Dragons bond with their riders. You'll feel it before long. It's...difficult to explain. But if the day came when she needed give her life for yours," he says, pulling away, cupping your cheek. "She will. That is what you mean to her now."

Your chin wobbles. "I don't want her."

"She wants you. Has chosen you."

"How...how do we let someone else claim her instead?"

He shakes his head. "That isn't how it works. A dragon may only take a new rider once its previous one has passed. That is the only way the bond is broken."

Your heart sinks. "Oh."

A tear slips from your eye, sliding down your cheek. "I don't want to die."

He frowns.

"I know. None do. But..." What is he supposed to tell you? A dragon was never what you'd come here for. He has no words of comfort for you, and it makes him feel all the worse for it.

"I wonder if Maisily would like her."

You smile slightly.

"I'd like to think she'd be braver than I."

He presses a kiss to your forehead. "After what you endured...you're not a coward. I'm...sorry. That you must live with it now. Truly."

Your eyes meet his again. "Do we truly have to?"

He nods slowly. "I'm afraid so. But, as I said, I will be with you the entire time."

You clutch at the material of his soft tunic. "Were you scared...the first time?"

He tips your chin up with his index finger, grinning. "Terrified."

That makes you feel somewhat better.

Finally, he stands, taking your hand within his own, lacing your fingers together. "Come, I think it is time for a proper introduction."

You practically cling to Jace's side as the two of you stand at the edge of the platform which overlooks the dragonpit.

Your body shakes violently, while tears well in your eyes. You fear you may vomit all over him.

"Call her," he tells you gently.

You stare up at him, your nose red and eyes bloodshot, and shake your head.

He slides his hand down your arm, lacing his fingers between your own for comfort. He squeezes your hand securely.

"Call to her. I'm right here. No harm will come to you, I promise."

Reluctantly, you tear your gaze away from him, looking out at that black, bottomless pit, afraid of what is to be found in the looming darkness.

You hide yourself half-behind his arm.

"Silverwing," you call quietly.

He frowns. "Tell her 'Māzīs, Silverwing'."

You grip his sleeve tightly.

"It means come," he explains.

"M—" You shut your mouth, humming with fear.

"Try again," he encourages.

In truth, he doesn't entirely mind you taking so long to accomplish this one simple task. The more time it takes you, the longer you'll cling to him for safety.

He much likes that you do in the first place.

That you see him as a protector in this way.

"Māzīs, Silverwing," you call, a few octaves louder, to no response.

"With conviction," he explains.

You squeeze his hand so tightly it hurts, but he says nothing of it.

"Māzīs, Silverwing!" You shout.

And then there is a deep rumbling, and something shifting in the dark.

You squeak, stepping behind Jace entirely, fisting the material of his tunic in your hands as you hold yourself against him.

You shut your eyes, burying your face in the middle of his back.

His lip twitches, eventually turning into a full-blown contented smirk at the feel of you so very close to him.

"Tell her to sit."

"You do it," you mumble.

He rolls his eyes. "She is your mount, not mine. She needs answer to you alone. Elsewise, she will grow confused. It would not do well to have her responding to other riders while in battle."

"Then we won't go to battle. We'll stay here. Where it's safe."

He nearly snorts.

"Demās," he whispers. "Sit."

You peak out from behind him, then blanch when you see your dragon already staring at you.

Her blue and silver scales shimmer against the light of the lit braziers which surround you. At least she's pretty to look at... If not also terrifying.

"She's waiting for you," he presses.

"Demās, Silverwing."

There is a resounding thump, and then a soft clicking coming from her.

"Good, now you may mount her."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

He turns, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "I will show you how it's done."

You watch nervously as Jacaerys climbs onto your dragon with ease, seating himself comfortably before looking down to you, beckoning you up with his hand.

You shift on your feet, glancing to the doorway, then back to him.

"I will be with you the entire time. Just come. Please."

You take a small step forward, and then another and another, shoving down the urge to run screaming in the other direction all the while as you plant your feet against her side, your hands gripping her slippery scales while you stare up at him.

Jacaerys gives you an encouraging smile. "Good, just like that. Now climb."

You frown, but obey nonetheless, knowing you've no other choice.

You struggle—losing your footing every few steps, but you hold firm, eventually taking Jacaery's outstretched hand, and he pulls you up, and you fall into his chest.

You flush. "Sorry."

He shakes his head, smoothing hair away from your face.

"No harm done. Now," he nods toward the saddle. "Sit, so I can adjust your restraints."

"What...what about you?"

He grins. "I've been at this for some time. I'll be perfectly well."

"You're not...you're not afraid of falling off?"

"Not at all."

You wait patiently—silently—as Jacaerys pulls tight a large leather strap across your waist.

"How does that feel?"

You tug against it, and are pleased to find it doesn't budge. "Good. It feels secure. I think..."

He nods, sliding closer until his chest is flush against your back. He wraps an arm around your waist while his other hand comes to rest atop your thigh.

"Tell her to stand."

You stare ahead dumbly, your mind blank. You don't want her to stand. Don't want her to fly. You want to go back to your room.

"Maybe...maybe tomorrow we could—"

"No, today."

You swallow thickly.

He pulls a lock of hair away from your shoulder, bringing his lips close to your ear. "I won't allow any harm to come to you. Neither will she. She is your protector now."

He pauses. "As am I. For...for today, that is."

Tears fills your eyes.

You want to get down.

You want your little girl.

"Can you hold my hand again?" You whisper.

He smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your hair, twining his fingers between yours once more.

"Now, stand."

You chew your lip. "That's the one you were mean to me over, right? You said..."

You trail off. You can't remember the word now. Only that he called you a simpleton when he told you to say it, and you'd not known what word to supply him with in return.

"Iōrātās."

You nod. "Silverwing, iōrātās!"

She begins to rise and your eyes go wide, your heart jumping into your throat.

"Oh—oh Gods. I don't—"

The two of you rock from side to side before leveling again.

"Tell her to go forward."

A beat of silence.

"Naejot, Silverwing!"

 She begins heading toward a doorway, which begins to slowly open.

Jacaerys had arranged for the dragonkeepers to at least do that much.

He was irritable enough when he went to them to make arrangements for this afternoon. If they'd refused his orders...

It is once Jacaerys can see clearly outside that he speaks again. "Tell her to fly."

"I—I can't do that. We need to get down now, I think."

He cups your cheek, leaning in close to your ear. "All is well, I promise. Trust me. Just this once."

You keep your mouth shut, refusing to give her the order.

"Sōvēs," he tells you.

You remain silent.

He sighs. "Do you think she enjoys being trapped in here all hours of the day? Do you know how long it's been since someone has ridden her? Let her show you the skies. Allow her that privilege."

You fill with guilt then.

You drag your fingertips lightly along her scales.

You've a dragon... What a ridiculous thing for someone like you to possess.

It will not last.

It does not matter if Jacaerys believes otherwise. She chose wrong. And you will prove it to him.

"Silverwing, sōvēs!" You shout with confidence.

And immediately fill with regret, your dragon instead proving you wrong.

She takes off, practically running toward the open doors, flapping her wings, and you shriek in terror, doubling over and hiding your face in your hands.

Jace holds you tightly, encouraging you to look, but you refuse, instead waiting for it to all be over.

You know you are airborne when everything becomes weightless and she steadies beneath you.

"Look, Y/N. Open your eyes!"

You shake your head. "No! We—You should tell her to land. I got her to fly like you said!"

He reaches forward, prying your hands away from your eyes—finding you to be stronger than you look, but you are, nevertheless, no match for him.

You keep your eyelids closed tight, refusing to give him what he wants.

"Open! That is an order from your prince!"

He says it with a grin, and with a playful tone, so as not to frighten you further, but you still whimper in fear.

He gives you another soft kiss upon your silver hair—loose strands of which lash against his face, tickling him.

"I want us to experience this together," he tells you lowly, his hand sliding along your stomach, fingers curling inward.

"You are a dragonrider now, you should see...what sorts of pleasure it may bring you."

Just then, you feel something long and hard pressing into your lower back and your eyes pop open in surprise. You turn back to him, only to find him smirking in contentment. "I see you've finally chosen to properly join me."

You give him a look of disbelief before turning back round.

And then you gasp in amazement—at the large, endless expanse of clear blue sky that surrounds you. It, and a handful of fluffy white clouds are all which remain in all the world from up here.

"I'm—"

He wraps his arms around your upper body, pulling you back against him.

"I'm flying!"

His eyes flutter closed, a smile settling upon his lips to hear you so pleased.

"I'm flying, Jace!"

He beams at you addressing him by a shortened, more familiar version of his name; that you did not so much as hesitate to do so.

"We're flying," he replies as you soar through the skies together.

[y3sterdaysproblem]

smoke and mirrors - chris sturniolo

chapter six part one

summary: your best friend Matt backs out of plans you had made together, so you replace him with his brother. the only problem is the two of you can’t stand each other.

{enemies to lovers, fake dating}

includes : explicit language, fluff, smut(penetration, oral, fingering, etc.), angst if you squint, lots of bickering, slow burn

wc: 3.5k

The night had barely begun and you were already sick of saying the words ‘This is Chris, my boyfriend.’

Not only was it a lie, but it made you want to throw up in your mouth to speak that into the universe. However, despite how gross saying it made you feel, Chris might’ve been the nicest boyfriend you’ve ever had. He kept a hand rested on your waist or your back as you guys spoke to people, he held your hand to guide you through crowds of people, he would even tuck little strands of hair that had fallen into your face behind your ear, shooting you a smile as he did so.

It genuinely terrified you how good he was at lying like this, to the point where it made you wonder if he actually had feelings for you, but you knew that wasn’t true and he was just an incredible liar.

Finally, you guys are able to relax for a moment and sit down, drinks placed in front of you. “God, I need like six more of these right now.” You tell him, sipping your drink until it’s just the sound of the straw sucking up air.

“Holy shit, slow down, we still have to get home,” Chris laughs, but does the same with his own drink, setting the empty glass back down on the table.

You shrug and wave your hand dismissively towards Chris. “We can just uber if anything.”

Chris’s eyes widen at your suggestion. “We are way too far to uber! That’ll be like a hundred dollar ride, no way!”

You groan, throwing your head back dramatically. “I need to get drunk,” you drawl, pulling your head back up to look at Chris. “I’m getting another drink, we’ll figure out getting home later.”

You stand up from your chair, but Chris grabs your hand and pulls you back down. “Stay here, I got it.”

You sit back down and laugh, staring up at the boy who stands up instead. “I’m a big girl, I could do it myself.”

“Listen, I know all your exes are bums, but my girlfriends don’t get their own drinks, so you hang out here,” Chris tells you before walking away towards the bar.

You scoff and settle back into your seat, humming to yourself and looking around the room at all the people dancing and having fun, making you wish you had a real boyfriend to spend the night with. Someone who would actually enjoy being with you and meeting your family. But here you were, stuck with someone who couldn’t even stand to be around you in the real world.

You’re not alone with your own thoughts for too long before your sister sits down next to you with a big smile, her own drink in hand. “Hey!” She says happily.

You smile up at her, knowing she’s probably at least a little buzzed by now. “Hey,” you reply.

She leans in close to you and nudges your shoulder, eyebrows waggling as well. “So,” she drags the word out. “Chris is really cute. Where’d you find him?”

You laugh at her, shaking your head slightly. “Remember the boys I was friends with in high school? Matt and Nick?” You ask her, and she nods, taking another sip of her drink. “Well they’re still my best friends and he’s their brother. We… we used to not get along very well but, turned out he just had a big fat crush on me.”

Your sister gasps in realization. “I knew he looked familiar!” She screeches, and it’s at that moment that Chris comes back, sitting next to you and placing your drink on the table.

“Who, me?” He asks with a laugh, leaning forward slightly to peer at your sister around you.

“Yes!” She says, even louder this time. She was definitely feeling the alcohol. “I remember your brothers always causing a ruckus in my house. Our mom never knew how to handle them because she only had girls, but you were never around, huh?”

Chris shakes his head. “Nah, we didn’t get along in high school.” He confirms.

You turn your head and smirk at Chris. “Yeah, I told her you treated me like shit because you had a big, fat, disgusting crush on me.”

Chris smirks back at you and slaps his hand back on the inside of your thigh, way higher than you were expecting him to. It causes you to jump and the smirk falls right off your face as you stare back at him still. “Yeah? Did you tell her about your big, fat, disgusting crush on me or you just trying make me look like a huge simp?”

You clear your throat and force a smile back onto your face, turning back to your sister. “I guess I kinda liked him, too.”

Your sister laughs and stands up from her chair, making sure she takes her drink with her. “Well, it’s lovely to finally get to know you, Chris. I hope I see you around a lot more.”

“Oh, you will,” Chris smiles up at her.

You turn to him once she’s gone and smack his arm. “Why would you say that when you know I’m breaking up with you tonight?”

Chris laughs and grabs his drink, taking a large sip. “Just to fuck with you. Now you have to deal with telling them your perfect boyfriend is no more.”

You couldn’t lie to yourself, you were having a really fun time, even if you were accompanied by Chris. The way he was treating you was almost comforting, as odd as that was. It was nice to know that somebody was always nearby, and they were there for you and you alone. His hand holding you close, the way he smiled down at you while you guys talked with friends or family, or even now how he grabbed your drink and you didn’t even have to go anywhere. It felt so cruel that all of this was fake and you didn’t actually have someone to dote on you like this. But it’s okay, you figure, at least you can enjoy it for tonight.

You ignore his last comment and grab his hand off of your thigh, entwining your fingers together. “Come on, come dance with me.” You tell Chris, standing up and staring down at him. He shakes his head quickly, and almost nervously.

“Oh, definitely not. I do not dance. Find someone else to dance with,” he tells you sternly, staying planted in his chair.

You yank on his arm, letting him know you’re not backing down. “I can’t ask anyone else, you’re my boyfriend.” You smirk. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Just stand on the dance floor and like… bounce. Get a couple more drinks in you and you’ll feel great.”

And that’s exactly what you and Chris both did, and now that you were both about five or six mixed drinks in, you were nowhere near sober and not complaining. Chris had decided to join you on the dance floor, but he stayed still for the most part, just watching you dance and enjoy yourself.

“I think we’re definitely going to have to uber back!” You yell at Chris, a little louder than necessary, to which he just laughs and nods in agreement, finding your drunken state kind of funny. He’s never seen you drunk before, and you’ve definitely never seen him drunk.

The loud pop song that’s playing comes to an end and is followed up by a slow, steady song, clearly made for dancing. “Oh no,” Chris says, reaching forward to grab your arm to pull you away from the dance floor. “Definitely not, I am not slow dancing with you. Line drawn.”

You pout and plant for feet in the floor, not wanting to move. “Chris…” you whine, and he raises a brow at you. “Just one dance? Y’know, for show.”

Chris groans, knowing that he probably should dance with you, but he definitely does not want to. Despite that, he walks closer to you again and rests his hands on your waist, your arms instinctively going around his neck. He lets out a long sigh and looks around at the other couples dancing, seeing how happy all of them look and how out of place he himself felt. He was having an alright time, he couldn’t deny that, but he also wished maybe he had a real girlfriend to do real boyfriend things with, but he was so picky with his women and knew it would take him a while to find someone he could actually fully fall for. Someone beautiful and smart, someone independent but still willing to rely on her boyfriend, someone confident but not cocky. Someone like-

“Hey,” you whisper, pulling him out of his thoughts. He looks down at you and meets your eyes where you’re staring up at him.

“What’s up,” he responds, bluntly.

“Thanks for doing this,” you tell him, a small smile gracing your features. “I’m having a really good time and I think my family really likes you. I know it’s not real but… I really appreciate it.”

Chris takes in your words, listening intently. He decides to not be an asshole for once towards you and just smiles, nodding his head. “No problem. Thanks for helping me, too. She stopped texting me so I think our plan worked.”

You giggle in response. “Good, I’m glad. No reason for her to be so hung up on you anyway.”

Chris laughs, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, right. You haven’t even gotten to see what she’s hung up on yet.” He tells you.

Your smile dims a bit, and his words make you tilt your head in curiosity. “Yet?” You ask.

Chris just shrugs, not wanting to feel like he stumbled over his words, though he definitely did not mean to say that, and now he doesn’t quite know how to backpedal. “Never know where the night will take us.”

You pause, your feet stopping with you, your eyes just boring up into Chris’s. Maybe it was the closeness of your bodies, or maybe it was just all the alcohol, but you couldn’t help how good you thought he looked right now in the low light, how sexy he looked staring down at you, and how hot his hands felt as they roamed around your waist and back, pinky fingers barely ghosting over the top of your ass. The combination of all of it was too much, and you found yourself pushing away from Chris, clearing your throat. “I, um… I need some air.” You tell him before turning and heading for the entrance of the banquet hall, pushing the big doors open until you were outside, sucking in a deep breath.

Intrusive Chris thoughts, that’s all they were. You just had to get through it and figure out how to get home and away from him for the rest of the night.

You’re only out there for maybe three minutes when the door opens again and Chris walks out and towards you, hands stuffed awkwardly in his pockets. You turn your head and face him, but you’re not happy to see him at all. The one time you need space and of course he comes looking for you.

“Sorry if that joke was too far,” he apologizes, now standing directly in front of you.

You shake your head, breaking eye contact and looking at the ground. “Wasn’t. I just got hot,” you lie. “Needed to cool off.”

Chris nods, not fully believing you, but not wanting to fight you on it either. Another first. “Maybe we should start heading out. I can order us an uber.”

You bring your eyes back up to his and nod in agreement. “Yeah, that’ll be good.”

Chris stares down at you intensely, making no move to pull out his phone and call an uber, just staying completely still until you feel like your own skin is on fire and you want to rip it off. He’s never been this quiet in his life, and he surely has never willingly spent this much time staring at you.

“Chris…” you start, nervously, heart banging in your chest.

Chris takes in a deep breath, sounding almost shaky, pulling his hands out of his pockets before he speaks. “I think I drank too much,” he says quietly.

“What, why-?”

Your question is cut off by Chris’s lips slamming against yours, his right hand coming up to your jaw to hold you in place, left hand gripping at your waist like you were his lifeline.

You’re shocked at first, completely taken aback by the feeling of his lips on his, and your first instinct is to pull away, but in a split second decision you let your body relax into it, arms circling up around his neck once more, stepping the tiniest bit closer so your chests were pressed together.

One of your hands slid up into the back of Chris’s hair, holding him close as your lips slotted together damn near perfectly, and his left hand rested on your back, pulling you even closer if possible. Your heads were tilted for a more comfortable kiss, and you stayed like that for a few moments until he pulled away, breathing more labored than usual.

“I’m sorry,” he says, almost in a whisper. But your hands are still exploring each others’ bodies and your chests are still touching. You’re both quiet, apart from the heavy breathing, and you know one of you has to make a move here. But this next move will determine your relationship for the rest of your life, and you’re terrified to make the wrong choice. Do you pull away and tell him it’s fine, you know he didn’t mean it, he’s just drunk? Or do you give into the feelings, into the intrusive Chris thoughts, into the way he’s making your heart race right now?

It doesn’t take a lot of thought. You never really were too good at restraining yourself from the things you wanted.

“Don’t be,” you tell him, the most confident you’ve sounded the whole night, before you slam your lips together again, this time more roughly than before, both of your mouths opening to slide your tongues together.

It seemed like the world around you had completely disappeared, the only thing you’re able to focus on being the way his lips moved with yours, the way his hand splayed on your back pressed you closer to him, the way your fingers felt tangled in his hair. All you cared about was kissing him, and you didn’t even hate it. In fact, you loved it, and it didn’t even kill you to admit it.

You guys were kissing for what felt like forever when Chris pulled away, keeping your faces close together. His breathing was labored and your makeup was messed up and the only thing you two had on your mind was getting more of each other. “We should leave,” he starts. “Like now.”

You nod in agreement, then realize. “I can’t drive, Chris.” You remind him.

He swears under his breath before taking a look around at your surroundings, a large smile gracing his face as his eyes landed across the street. “There’s a hotel,” he pulls a hand away from you to point his finger to where he’s looking. Your eyes follow the path and land on the building he’s talking about, and you can’t help but be excited and terrified at the same time.

You gulp and bring your eyes back to Chris’s, his own head turning back to look at you. “Chris…” you start slowly and tentatively. “Do you realize what you’re implying here?”

Chris shakes his head. “I’m not implying anything,” he tells you, then leans down to press a kiss to your neck, slowly trailing his lips over your shoulder. “I’m telling you I want you. I need you.”

You let out a small breath and tilt your head, eyes fluttering shut. “Okay,” you reply. “Okay, let’s go.”

Chris plants one more kiss on your neck before he grabs your hand and starts walking away from the building you guys were in front of, a little too quickly for you to keep up with. “Chris!” You complain. “I’m in heels, slow down.”

Chris laughs and turns to look back at you. “I’m sorry, I’m eager.” He stops and lets you catch up before walking again, slower this time. “I just can’t wait to get my head between your legs.”

Your cheeks flush at his words, and you know you should yell at him or hit him or scold him since that’s what you two always did, but this time his words sent a shiver down your spine and what felt like all of your blood rushing between your legs. You almost wanted to close your legs shut in fear of him somehow sensing how wet you were becoming, but you decided to play it cool. And by cool, that meant you nearly tripped off of the curb and choked on your spit at the same time, not being able to process the feelings in your head and walk at the same time.

“Maybe, uh, keep your thoughts to yourself while I try to navigate walking in heels while drunk, yeah?” You suggest, looping your arm around his for a little more stability.

Chris agrees with a small chuckle, guiding you across the not so busy street and towards the hotel. “You’re okay with this?” He clarifies, to which you nod your head.

“Yeah, I’m okay with this. I’m drunk enough to find you hot and drinking rum always makes me horny,” you giggle.

Chris scoffs. “Please, you always find me hot, you’re just drunk enough to finally admit it.”

You turn your head and smile up at him. “Kinda hard not to when I think your brothers are so hot.”

Chris turns and meets your eyes, cringing. “Gross, dude, can you not talk about how hot you think my brothers are when I’m about to fuck you?”

You only giggle again, this time in excitement.

You both make it to the hotel and walk through the automatic doors, instantly smiling at the girl working the service desk. Chris goes up to her and starts the process for booking a room as you wander around the lobby, peeking in the vending machines and around all the corners, just thinking about how you had no idea this was how your night was going to end and how you weren’t even complaining. You were looking forward to it even. Your intrusive Chris thoughts were finally coming to light, and while that thought scared you, it excited you even more. You felt like a little kid snooping around in the middle of the night to find Christmas gifts. It was wrong, and you knew you shouldn’t do it, but you wanted nothing more than to do it.

You did feel slightly bad for leaving so abruptly, not even saying bye to anybody on your way out, more so because you had assumed you’d be going back inside, but you really couldn’t feel too bad about it when you were this intoxicated and excited for what was to come.

Chris came back to you and laid a hand flat on the small of your back, pulling you out of your thoughts and back to your senses. “Come on,” he said quietly, leading you to the elevator.

Since it was late and most people would be sleeping right now, you weren’t surprised to see the elevator empty when it opened. You guys shuffled into it and he pressed the button for it, immediately turning to you when the doors closed.

“You look so fucking good in that dress,” he compliments, placing both hands on your hips as he presses you up against the wall. He leans in and places his lips right in front of yours, eyes boring down into your own. “I can’t wait to take it off of you.”

You whine and grab him by the unbuttoned jacket of his suit, tilting your head up to finally reconnect your lips, one of your legs coming up to wrap around his waist.

His hand slides down to hold up your thigh, slipping underneath the dress to feel even more of your skin, even more of you. “I need you inside me so bad,” you whimper against his lips, pulling his body even closer.

“I know, baby, I’ll take care of you, I promise,” Chris whispers, sliding his hand up farther and around to the inside of your thigh. He pushes your legs apart a bit more and gently rubs his two middle fingers against your panties, which were no doubt noticeably wet at this point. “Is this all for me?” He asks lowly.

You nod, pushing your hips into his hand more. “Yes, all for you.” You tell him, starting to slide one of your hands down his torso. You’re about to ghost your fingers over his bulge when the elevator dings and the doors open, signaling you’ve arrived to your floor. Chris pulls away and pushes your leg down before using both hands to pull your dress back into place, then leads you out and towards your room in silence, using the keycard to open the door.

You both walk in, and if the tension was already high, the door shutting behind you just launched it into space. There was only one thing left to do from this point.

-

part two

taglist

@liiixsturniolos @madelinesturn @st6niolo @mattslolita @ifwdominicfike @sophand4n4 @chris-hallelujah @sophsturns @ariana2saucyy @045696 @scorpioosworld @byhrxb @vickytaa @taelovesmattsturniolo @secret-sturniolo @theboredknightcat-blog @slvtf0rchr1s @flouqissss @gabri3la-sturns @delilahsturniolo @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @vanillsstuff @sturnlsstuff @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @mattsbrat @mattsfavoritestar @dominicfikeenthusiast @certified-sturniolo @chrisslollipop @mattsside @sofiaaguilaxx @idrk2292 @dylansfavwife @pvssychicken @sturnl0ve @sturnioloangelxoxo @afilmbykay @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @r0s3luvr @milasturniolo @mattsdillion @birkinbratsworld @sturnburbs @aria003 @poppingmypussy4chris @victoryouactuallydidthis @seluky10 @annsx03 @ouchywow @sluttybitchformattsturniolo

[ilovejoostklein]

heyy idk if you like ski aggu too but could you write a reader x ski aggu x joost fic with the reader being a rich, spoiled groupie who wants to hook up with them? tysm 💕

i love this omg.

-

I Want It All

You’re a rich, spoiled international student who wants nothing more but to meet your favorite musicians

nsfw: smut

-

You were bored, with too much money to know what to do with. You were an international student in Germany, spoiled rotten your parents hoped that being in a new country and acclimating yourself to a new environment would teach you some independence. In a way they were right, you’d come to this show completely alone, just telling your friends you’d done it spontaneously as a white lie. 

The truth is you’d planned to go to the concert for weeks in excruciating detail. Obsession was an understatement for what you felt for these two singers, Ski Aggu and Joost Klein. Your studies had bored you, school was always too easy thanks to your private school background and rigorous expectations set throughout your life, hard work came naturally to you and became more like a routine than a conscious effort. Spring was turning to summer, the heat, the flowers in full boom, vibrant green trees, and endless possibilities excited you to no end. You had your daddy’s money to waste, the world was like your playground and you’d become accustomed to getting what you wanted no matter what. 

You’d gotten tickets on a balcony to avoid getting overly crowded and to be under the bright lights for too long. You wanted to keep your distance from others, watching closely, singing along to some songs, and recording half the concert to have something to watch back on and show your friends. When the concert ended, you were probably the only one who wasn’t upset it was over.

You carefully snuck past the crowds and approached a security guard who was by the backstage area. After a bit of failed negotiation, it took slipping a few hundred euros into his hand you asked him if he could do you a favor and see if he could get you backstage. You embellished, saying that you were a huge fan and just wished that you could get a few of your CDs signed. It was partly true, you were a fan and had the CDs in your ridiculously expensive purse, but you had other intentions, or rather hopes. 

The security guard escorted you to the backstage area. It was quiet, the walls making the sound of the music that continued to play as people left muffled. All you could hear besides that was your footsteps and the heavier ones of the security guard, who was one of the tallest and scariest men you’d ever seen. It failed to intimidate you though, money always worked wonders to make a scary man sweeten up and tuck his tail between his legs. 

“What do you work as?” The man’s accent was a bit thick and he was forward, you noticed he was eyeing down your outfit

“My dad owns a company.” You answered with a smile, making the man chuckle and shake his head. “But I’m just a student.”

“You are wearing very expensive clothes, so forgive me.” He explained a bit apprehensively, worried he’d accidentally offend you, “Are you sure you just want CDs signed?”

You could tell he was asking as an offer, not over suspicion. You can see that he was willing to pull some strings for you, but you were confident you didn’t need extra help. You only smiled, nodding your head innocently before he led you to a door, knocking three times. You could hear the commotion coming to a halt, the loud conversation of two men, and the sound of a football match. 

“There’s a fan here for you.” The security guard announced loudly. “Very beautiful.” He winked. 

You felt your heart fall to your feet. It felt like an elevator crashing, dramatic and terrifying you stood there motionless as you saw your distorted reflection in the colorful glass the man across from you had. They were up on his forehead now, exposing his eyes that he’d kept hidden for the show. They were beautiful, murky blue like the middle of the ocean. 

“Sprichst du Deutsch?” He asked immediately, you shook your head a bit embarrassed. “Oh, so sad.” He frowned. 

You introduced yourself impulsively before asking your question, “I was wondering if you could sign some things for me.” You asked nervously, pulling out the CDs and a sharpie, one meant for Joost and one for himself. “Please.”

He hesitated for a bit, “Ja, sure.” He took his CD, signing it quickly. “Joost!” He called loudly out over his shoulder. 

Joost sat up from the couch, he had a cigarette between his fingers, grey smoke lingering around him. He looked better up close, taller than you’d expected, His eyes lingered on you, they weren’t invading or judgmental, but slightly confused. You didn’t speak and just gave him the CD just as nervously, watching as they scribbled their signatures. 

“You smoke?” Joost asked, as he handed you back the CD you felt his fingers graze yours. 

“No.” You felt that you were already disappointed, seeing his face make the same expression that Aggu’s had. “Sorry.” 

“Oh no, that’s good.” He suddenly smiled, stepping aside you felt your heart begin to race, blood rushing to your face and ears. “Do you want to come inside for a bit?”

You felt yourself enter almost a trance as you stepped inside the dressing room, smelling of expensive men’s cologne, pungent tobacco, and beer. You glanced over to see the security guard had since left, leaving you completely alone. You didn’t understand why you were so apprehensive now, regret creeping in confused you, after all, this is exactly what you wanted. 

“Did you come here all alone?” Joost asked, walking over to one of the couches and beckoning you over. 

“Yes.” You answered, smoothing down your skirt as you sat down, with both men at either side of you. The couch was warm and plush under your skin, you tried to relax by leaning back as you faced one of the handsome men seated next to you. “I got a ticket last minute.”

Joost smiled again, his eyes looking you up and down before settling on your purse. “You must be a rich girl.” He joked, “Are you studying here in Germany?”

You nodded, distracted by Aggu reaching over your thigh and putting a beer bottle in your lap. You winced at the coldness, holding it in your hands as he opened it for you and pushed it to your lips. 

“Here, you must drink if you don’t smoke?” Aggu asked, you felt his arm settle near your waist, his fingertips hardly touching your exposed skin. “It’s good, German beer.”

You hated beer, but you felt you were already starting on the wrong foot, making how spoiled you were too apparent. “I’ll try it.” You took a sip, grimacing a bit from the bitter, earthy flavor. “It’s fine.” You said when you realized they were anxiously waiting for your response. 

They chuckled, eyes fixated on you to the point it almost felt like you were naked. They looked down at your figure, wrapped away inexpensive, pristine clothing you looked completely out of place. They thought of their cheap CDs stuffed in your bag worth thousands, the blush on your cheeks, and mascara brushed on your lashes probably from luxury brands. They wondered why you of all people were at one of their shows. 

“You must have a boyfriend, no?” Aggu asked suddenly. “Why would he let you come here alone?”

You shook your head, and just like that a shared fantasy began to manifest itself. Aggu nodded with a strained smile, instinctively looking at Joost who was focused on his beer and crushing his cigarette, then at the door to tell him that he needed a moment of privacy. 

The two men excused themselves as politely as possible, saying that they wanted to go out to have a smoke instead of doing it rudely in front of you, but to help yourself to any more beers in the meantime. Joost shut the door quietly, leading Aggu to the closest exit. 

They stood outside, the night was a bit eerie, hardly any stars were visible as they were in the middle of Berlin, nothing was heard but the rustling of trees, and all they felt was the cool and against their skin that was quickly heating up. They were nervous, desperately needing a moment to gather themselves and decide what to do about you. It seemed like an opportunity fell into their laps, but it didn’t mean that it would be wise to take it. 

Even if there was tension between them, almost a sort of unspoken desire that they wanted the same thing, no one spoke. They smoked in silence for a while, the only sound of their breathing. 

“I want to fuck her,” Aggu said suddenly. His tone was shockingly, almost offensively casual as he lit his cigarette. 

Joost hesitated for a moment, flicking the lighter over and over as his cigarette burned and wasted between his fingers. He thought of you again, wondering what you were doing in the room all alone, and what thoughts were racing through your mind. He was strung out tonight, the show allowed him to get pent-up energy out, but never all of it. He smoked until he couldn’t bare it and drank enough to calm his nerves, but he realized that nothing would make him feel better than to fuck someone, it’s been so long, and seeing that you, how beautiful you were, and knowing you probably had enough money to buy him made you more attractive.

“I do too.” Joost finally answered, taking a short drag from his cigarette, wondering if Aggu was serious or just saying it as a vulgar compliment.

“We can fuck her together.” Aggu’s tone was still overly casual, it intimidated Joost as much as it began to excite him. “I think she’d like that.” 

It was subtle, his face was still as he felt overtaken by disbelief and reluctance as he’d never been in this situation before. He thought of it, a spoiled girl like yourself getting fucked by two men was beneath you, and knowing that only made him desire it to the point it was almost torturous. He didn’t realize he could want something this much, the fantasy replaying in his mind was tempting, and he didn’t want to let you slip through his fingers.

“How do you know that?” Joost questioned, his demeanor becoming standoffish. He couldn’t imagine the humiliation he’d feel if you turned them down, or worse preferred Aggu over himself. 

“Don’t be stupid.” Aggu threw the cigarette butt on the ground and stomped it out. “Let’s go, I’m getting cold.”

Joost did the same with his half-smoked cigarette and trailed behind Aggu, watching from just outside the door as he entered back into the room. Your eyes lit up immediately, looking up at him with stars in your eyes he began to suspect that he’d been right about you. Closing the door behind him, he still stayed in the same spot, his back leaning against it.

What came next shouldn’t have surprised him. He watched as Aggu sat down beside you, a drunken smile on his face, hands smoothing down on your arms before he leaned over and kept his face close to yours. 

“Are you sure you don’t have a boyfriend?” Aggu’s voice had softened, his hand grasping your thigh making you instantly grow cold. “You’re too pretty.”

“I don’t.” You mumbled, staring directly at the floor you couldn’t find it within yourself to face him. 

You were allowed a moment away from his burning gaze but soon felt his fingers hold your chin and force you to turn your head. It was a bit jarring to see him without the ski goggles, but still, you couldn’t help but wonder why he’d willingly cover up such gorgeous eyes.

“Did your parents pay for your ticket?” Aggu questioned, your chest ignited with a combination of shame and excitement, you knew exactly what he thought of you.

“Kind of, they send me money often.” You admitted the look on his face made you instinctively squeeze your thighs together. Lust had completely taken over any sense you had.

“That’s cute.” Aggu’s hand squeezed down on your thigh, his thumb tracing circles against your soft skin. 

Everything about you was begging to be ruined. Your skin was almost unrealistically soft. He couldn’t imagine how high maintenance you were, how expensive your self-care products and your trips to the spa were. All for him to be able to hold you and eventually have his way with you. As he continued to touch your thigh, his eyes hadn’t left yours, leaning over he finally caved into his desires.

Joost couldn’t help but stare. He watched as your glossy lips parted and your eyes fluttered shut.  Aggu’s lips were plush against you, he watched as he brought you closer, his lips parting from yours only for his tongue lying flat against your neck the feeling made you squirm in his arms. The sight entranced him, he wanted to touch you but couldn’t find it in himself to move.

“Joost,” Aggu spoke against your neck making you squirm. “Stop watching, come here.”

He sat down next to you nervously. Aggu stopped kissing your neck for a moment to position you perfectly in the center so that Joost wouldn’t just have your back turned to him. 

You felt too many hands on you, squeezing your breasts, grazing over your waist, caressing your thighs. You couldn’t hold in the sounds you were making, the feeling of getting your neck kissed and their strong hands touching you was too much all at once. 

You couldn’t tell whose lips were softer, a minuscule detail you forced your thoughts to center on so that you had some sense of control. It was an empty effort, you were taken over by need and found yourself leaning towards one of the men for a kiss. 

You peeked through and saw you were kissing Joost, but the way his mustache scratched against your upper lip had given it away at first. The kiss didn’t last as long as you’d hoped, Aggu, impatient and a bit jealous moved your cheek so that you’d kiss him instead. 

“Don’t make us fight.” Aggu teased, one strong hand squeezing down on your breast as he kissed you.

You felt Joost press his lips against the corner of your mouth, the two men had become so desperate it intimidated you how strongly they were coming onto you. You began to wonder if you could handle going any further, two men kissing you at the same time was already overwhelming. 

You watched as their lips accidentally grazed each other’s, hearing them chuckle before they took turns kissing you on the lips. It cooled the tension for a moment, you were surprised that they could get along so well. 

You felt Aggu kiss your neck as Joost held your chin in his hand and brought you into a much softer kiss. Aggu was the first to begin to undress you. He carefully slid down the strap to your shirt, as eager as he was, when he saw that you slid the other down for him he took it as a sign to continue. 

You practically felt your clothes torn off your body by them both, stripping you bare as if you were teasing them for hours on end. Joost had left your lips puffy from his greedily passionate kiss, and the delicate skin on your neck throbbed from how many love bites Aggu left. They took everything off except for your stockings. They were black, slightly sheer, and sitting atop your lingerie. It wasn’t blatant with garter and intricate designs, but it was clear you’d made an effort.

“This is very nice,” Joost remarked as he squeezed down on your breasts, you felt yourself burn at the slight smirk on his face and the way he glanced at Aggu. “It’s very nice, isn’t it?” 

“I feel bad for your boyfriend, waiting at home for you.” Aggu teased, “Do you always wear things like this under your clothes?”

You couldn’t answer. You felt Aggu rest his hand on the back of your neck and guide you down so that you were now lying on your side. Your cheek rubbed up against the rough fabric of his dark jeans, you could smell the faint cologne and cigarette smoke, it nauseated and excited you.

Joost’s hands held your waist, gently moving you to the side so that you’d be lying on your stomach. He heard him sit up, the blood abandoning all your limbs to rush towards your head. You felt the room spinning as Aggu played with your hair, alternating from smoothing it down his gently to twirling a few strands around his fingers and tugging at it.     

Joost was behind you, his hands running down your back like stones skipping in the water, you shivered under his touch with anticipation. His fingers grazed against you softly, soon settling on your ass and grabbing and kneading down. You heard the two men share a laugh, Aggu leaning over to spank you a few times. Internally, that was the final moment of sanity you had left. You were never so desperate to be touched, you felt like it was almost cruel and were moments away from begging them. 

“Are these stockings expensive?” Joost asked softly, his hand rubbing down to soothe where Aggu had slapped.

“Uh,” You began, trying to remember where they were from, “I think they were a hundred euros or something.”

The room fell silent for less than a second before erupting in soft laughter. It was mocking, you felt ridiculed but strangely from the way they held you, Joost’s hand rubbing down on your back as Aggu continued to gently pet your hair the shame excited you. 

“You’re crazy.” Joost chuckled, staring down at the stockings he felt an intrusive thought naw at him. “You can get them for 5 euros at any store you know?”

Of course, you knew, and of course, Joost did as well. It shouldn’t have come as such a surprise how fixated he was on your stockings when after a while of his hands running up and down the sheer, thin material he bunched them up as his hands and soon you heard the first sound of the threads snapping loose. 

The sound of tearing had again silenced the room but was intertwined by Joost’s first sound of pleasure. He groaned softly as he watched the fabric tear and split, like a present revealing your soft skin underneath. It invigorated him, relinquishing the power you had over to him and having complete freedom to make you a part of his fantasy. 

“I’m sorry.” Joost offered the apology, not necessarily regretting it but he didn’t want to upset you. “I’ll get you new ones.”

“The ones that cost five euros?” Aggu chuckled, getting a slap on the side of his arm in response. 

Joost finished undressing you completely, and soon everything had completely settled into reality for you. The coolness of the room should’ve helped to prevent how you burned up inside, a fire deep in your stomach and rushing over your body. You had lost a bit of sense, positioning yourself in a way that better to be fucked, and with your free hand, you tugged on Aggu’s belt.

“Zo wanhopig, so desperate,” Joost mumbled, his hands gripping your waist and pulling you back. “Are you comfortable like this?”

You looked back at him over your shoulder, nodding a bit apprehensively. As much as you wanted it you didn’t feel quite ready, but it was as if Joost heard and granted your internal wish. As Aggu continued playing with your hair and letting you palm him through his jeans, you felt Joost’s breath against your backside. 

He drew apart your thighs gently, leaning down, he kissed the backs of your thighs before he began to lick against your pussy. You couldn’t help but become immediately vocal. You whimpered with every movement, writhing your hips against his mouth selfishly. He didn’t seem to mind if anything he encouraged it as his fingers dug into your hips and kept them in place.

Aggu could only see Joost’s head from behind, but the only way thing he wanted was to watch the blissful expression on your face. As nice of a sight it was, paired with the sounds you were making soon made him grow impatient. It was like his body had a mind of its own, before he knew it his clothes were thrown messily in a pile near the couch and he was pushing his cock into your face.

He nudged it on your cheek to encourage you to open your mouth. You couldn’t describe the feeling that completely engulfed your senses. It was as lustful as it made you feel overly exposed. You’d never experienced anything close to this, and the fleeting thoughts of what your friends and your family would think if they knew. You couldn’t help but feel invigorated by the fact that it was so wrong and unlike you. 

Aggu could tell you were trying to maintain whatever poise you had left as you sucked him off. It was cute at first, you felt as he smoothed your hair out of your face and softly praised you, but as you withdrew too often as Joost eating you out was too overwhelming. Just like Joost held your hips in place, Aggu’s hands pulled your hair and shoved his cock into your mouth as softly as he could. 

The way you gagged against him drove him wild, it took every bit of constraint not to fuck your mouth as hard as he could. He relinquished some control, letting you take the lead. It soon dawned on him, from the look in your eyes that was far from begging but satisfied that he was just feeding into how spoiled you were. You came for CDs and now had Joost on his knees eating you out and Aggu aching for when it was his turn. 

As much as you didn’t want this to end, you felt your orgasm build steadily and you leaned desperately into chasing that feeling. Your legs grew unstable, you pushed yourself against Joost’s mouth and felt the enthusiasm reciprocated from how he hummed against you and sunk his fingers into your flesh. 

You cried out incoherently, Aggu’s cock hanging out your mouth as he let you ride out your orgasm against Joost’s tongue. He didn’t stop, the overstimulation sending electric bolts through your spent body. Your body ached with pleasure, every muscle relaxed, your heart pounding into your ears as your mind settled into a heavenly state. 

“You taste so good.” Joost’s face was now next to yours, you felt his breath against your neck making you shiver. “Give me a kiss.”

He brought you into a quick, sloppy kiss. His tongue shoved into your mouth, filling it with the taste of you. It was strange, not unpleasant but you’d never had anyone kiss you directly afterwards, especially like this. 

“Let me see.” Aggu pulled you up and kissed you a bit most gently, tasting remnants of yourself on your soft lips. “Get back on your knees and help Joost out.”

He was authoritative, yanking your hair and manhandling you before he spread your legs the same way Joost had, 

“Wait-“ You protested, overwhelmed, your head foggy and confused as you felt Aggu press a kiss against your sensitive clit. 

You were melting under their touch, your lips wrapped around Joost’s cock as Aggu ate your pussy just for the sake of tasting you. Once he was satisfied, you heard the sound of plastic tearing which made you burn with anticipation. 

“You want me to fuck you, Schatz?” Aggu cooed, his hand delicately smoothing down your back. “Hm?”

“Yes,” You withdrew from Joost’s cock before he guided your head back to pleasuring him. “Please, I need it.”

It was quick and sloppy. You felt completely used and you loved it. Aggu’s tip stretched you out, it burned with pleasure with every movement, matter how much you winced and grunted from the discomfort it was all worth it when he bottomed you out. He filled you up perfectly, the way his big hands felt against your hot skin made you grow weaker. The two men had made indentations of your hips, their infatuation with you, your body, the way you were like a little gift from the universe dropped into their lap.

You were an absolute dream. Joost watched as you gave him head, not being able to focus completely on the obscenities in the room. He listened to you spit on his dick and suck him off, the sound of your groans entertained with his own, and skin slapping from Aggu pounding into you. It was nothing less than a fantasy. He wondered how many people would kill just to get to watch.

“I’m gonna cum.” Joost sighed, breaking the tension momentarily, “Just like that, such a good girl.”

You felt it was almost rewarding to have them both in the palm of your hand. It was better than your climax to bring them both to that point, the two men panting and mumbling incoherent praises as they fucked you. They took turns kissing you just to see how you tasted. You began to truly believe there wasn’t anything in this world you couldn’t have. 

Joost came in your mouth without warning, bringing you back harshly to the reality of the room. Hearing his groan and cry out your name as he desperately bucked his hips into your mouth was the most incredible feeling. You swallowed without a second thought, eagerly licking against the shaft and tip as he watched a bit dumbfounded. 

“Oh, god.” Joost sighed, his eyes and voice weary. “You’re perfect.” He pinched your cheek lovingly before giving you a tired smile. 

Aggu’s pace at first was controlled, he didn’t want to make you overwhelm you as you took. care of Joost, he was a good friend after all. He wished he wasn’t so close, but seeing you suck Joost off and lap up his cock when he was done was too erotic, he wished he’d looked away, but the sounds alone could’ve gotten him off.

He tried to last longer, thinking of something to turn him off,  like the hangover he’ll have the next morning, the thought of packing up all his shit to get on a plane to the next show. It was all an empty effort when you looked over your shoulder. The way your eyes met his immediately, big, pleading with your eyebrows knit together in bliss. He put you on your back, with a few quick motions treating you like a doll so he could finish himself off. 

Aggu’s hands molded into yours, like hot glass,  so delicate and vulnerable. You didn’t notice how many hands were on you, Joost helping Aggu and positioning himself at the side of the couch. His lips suddenly pressed against your nipples, drawing out a pathetic sound. Two fingers pressed onto your clit, rubbing down as Aggu’s pace became punishing. 

Your body moved with his, staring up into his eyes you never wanted to look away. Your body was no longer yours for a few seconds, you’d completely surrendered to their touch and pleasure. Your orgasm had built up as quickly as it washed over you. Your body convulsed with pleasure, unexpedelyh which made it that much more intense. Aggu felt you clench around him, watching your blissful expression and feeling you soak his cock he couldn’t take it. 

He soon followed after you, being far more vocal than both you and Joost. His moans were deep and drawn out, pumping himself inside of you a few more times before he practically collapsed beside you. 

It was a tight fit, Aggu’s body was muscular, warm, and a bit tacky with sweat. Joost’s hands rubbed up and down your body to soothe you. Their tenderness was comforting, despite the fact this was all purely out of lust. 

Your body felt heavy, wrapped in Aggu’s arms you watched as Joost got up and went over to the corner of the room. You watched a bit confused as he took some crumbled bills from his wallet and stuck them in your purse, not before leaning down and kissing you. 

“Sorry about the stockings.” 

-

guys i’m sorry for being inactive! i had some summer courses i was finishing up. i’m working on recs so ty to everyone for ur patience :)!

[milunalupin]

Can i request a one shot for ominis????

Him asking Y/N to describe her favourite color. Her favourite color is his eyes and she describes them in the most poetic and romantic way without giving away that its his eyes. She does this while looking at his eye and he doesn’t know this. Bonus when ominis tells seb about it and seb is just looking at him like an idiot and tells ominis “her favourite color are your eyes” like its the most obvious thing in the world.

thank you for you patience, i hope you like it ! <3

— la mer

ominis gaunt x reader ★ 529 words

"Think of the smell of the pine trees at Christmas time, or the feeling of freshly cut grass."

After your shared colormancy lesson earlier in the day, Ominis had asked you to describe the colors to him. So here you two were, laying down by the Black Lake as you tried your best to describe the colors in a way he would understand.

"Grass? Salazar, like that matcha stuff you've been drinking? I don't think I like green."

A pleased smile grows on his face as he hears the light twinkling of your laughter, that based off your descriptions, sounds yellow.

"Well yes, matcha is actually green but stop being dramatic Ominis, green is quite nice. Green is Slytherin's main color you know."

"What does your favorite color feel like?"

Your cheeks turn cherry red, suddenly feel shy as he turned his head to face you. Today Professor Onai said that purple symbolized magic and devotion. The frayed yarn at the bottom of your violet sweater undid itself more and more as you tugged at it nervously. The two of you hadn't been partners in Divination class for very long, but it was long enough for you to develop a crush on the youngest Gaunt.

"It feels like, the first snowfall," you begin, glancing over at your friend. As if you had to look at him to know that exact shade of blue his eyes were. "When it starts with just a few and then suddenly you're surrounded by sparkling little snowflakes."

"Sounds nice."

"It is."

"So, Ominis. How did your little rendezvous go with you know who?"

"What are you on about, Sebastian?"

"You know, your little date with Y/N after class."

Ominis scanned the Undercroft with his wand at lightning speed, for the slight chance that you may have just walked in and heard his idiot friend. Once confirming so, he sat back on the dusty couch and crossed his arms with a huff.

"That- That was not a date! I was simply curious about today's colormancy lesson."

"You asked her on a romantic walk along the lake," he grabbed his blonde friend by the shoulder, shaking him about. His eyes then squinted in suspicion. "Hey, I've told you what colors are like already. So there's no other reason for your little promenade besides the ever so obvious fact that you like her! Don't lie Ominis, you're as pink as a pygmy puffskein right now."

Ominis pushed Sebastian away, wishing his ears weren't visibly burning as much as they felt. "Shut it, Sebastian."

The teasing Slytherin rolled his eyes with an amused smirk. He turned back to practicing his spells, blue sparks shooting out of his wand. "She must've told you her most favorite color, I assume."

Ominis' face burned further as Sebastian could only cackle at his response, "You're kidding!" he clutched his stomach as he bent over in a fit of laughter.

"What." the blonde snapped, his fists clenching at his side.

"She was describing the color of your eyes, Ominis! Fool!"

If he we wasn't as tomato red as he thought he was, Sebastian would be sure to tell him once he was.

[angelwonie]

in which coriolanus snow might have beaten someone up for talking badly about you.

PAIRING: academy!snow x fem!reader

SUMMARY: coriolanus snow does reckless things when it comes to you.

WARNINGS: mentions of broken ribs and a crematorium (coryo is dramatic lol), up to interpretation whether he's morally gray

WORD COUNT: 0.8k

“Why’d you do it?”

Coriolanus’ head snaps up at the sound so familiar to him and yet resounding in a somewhat foreign tone through the room. He’s at the academy past hours, finishing up homework his aching fingers didn’t allow him to write this morning. You’re leaning against the doorway, a few stairsteps below him, arms crossed over your chest. Your face is almost entirely hidden from him; the only source of light, his oil lamp, does little to change it.

“What do you mean? Why are you standing in the shadows? Come sit.”

He hears a scoff, now sounding much more like what he’s accustomed to with you. 

“Answer the question,” you say.

“I don’t know what you m—”

“Why did you hit him, Snow? I won’t ask again.” 

Finally, the contours of your figure appear clearly in his line of sight. The vague light illuminates your face contorted in chagrin, brows furrowed like they so often are when the two of you are working on assignments. He leans back in his chair, blonde locks falling onto his forehead.

“You know why,” he counters, watching as you approach. Instead of sitting down next to him, you stand before his desk with expectant eyes. He mimics your stance, crossing his own arms over his chest half-seriously. “You know, so how come you’re here asking me stupid questions?”

Finally, you crack. 

“Because you’re an idiot, that’s why.” Sighing angrily, you plop down next to him and land a slap to his shoulder. He hisses in pain and the corners of your mouth lift in satisfaction. “A self-aware one, at that—which is even worse.”

“That is entirely subjective.”

“Don’t even start.”

“Why? Were you worried?” 

You let out a humorless laugh. “For Festus more than you. Have you seen him?”

“I wish. Bet he looks awful with half his ribs broken.” Your open palm hits his shoulder and he gasps anew. “When did you become so violent?” 

You scoff and push him, but he barely moves. “I’m violent? You’re so infuriating. They wanted to throw you out. I had to beg his parents for mercy. Me, who, by the way, did nothing wrong. So if I want to hit you right now, I have every right.”

He sighs and tilts his head against the wall. “I’m sorry, alright?”

“You don’t mean it.”

He smiles. You raise your hand to hit him again, but decide against it, instead laying it on the side of his face. His shoulders tense momentarily before he remembers it’ll be weird if you notice and he forces himself to relax as your fingers run over his cheek and neck, before they slide down to hold his right hand. You bring his bruised knuckles to your eyes, inspecting them. 

“How many times did you even hit him?”

“I don’t know, like, fifty before Sejanus hauled me off.”

“You’re insane,” you say. 

He thinks you’re probably right. But Festus said what he said and paid the price. At a discount at that—because if it were up to Coriolanus the asshole wouldn’t be lying in the hospital but the crematorium. Silence settles and all he hears is your breathing. Your fingers stay caressing his hand and each time they run over the bruises on his knuckles, he twitches indiscernibly, fighting the urge to jolt away. 

“Will you tell me what he said?” you ask, this time softer. 

“I don’t remember in detail…” he starts, but you stare at him knowingly and he cannot bring himself to lie. “Something about how you’re going to share my mother’s fate.” 

“Coryo,” you say. 

The two of you remain silent. He thinks you might stand up and leave; he thinks you’re terrifying at this moment, with your hair framing your face and your eyes on fire and your lower lip trembling. He thinks he’s said too much of the truth. Suddenly, you make a sound close to choking and he stiffens all over. 

“Coryo.” Your voice is feeble, shaky, as you wrap your arms around him and pull him in. In shock, he can do nothing more than let you hold him, taut as a string. “You should have told Dr. Gaul or…”

He has enough fervor in him still to chuckle, although it’s only half-hearted. “And what would she have done?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. 

You sit, embracing in the dark, in silence. He’s tense until you start rubbing his back, then he considerably relaxes with a hot sigh against your neck. It raises hairs all over your body, the heat, and you breathe out slowly. You smell like victory, he thinks, like roses and winter and gold. 

“He was wrong.” Your fingers dig into his shoulders as you pull away for a brief moment to look him in the eyes. Blue, piercing eyes which gaze at you in a manner so unidentifiable. “You hear me? He was wrong about me and you and everything. I promise. I’m glad you punched him.”

“I did it for you.”

“I know. I know.” 

In the half-dark room, he wraps his arms around you tighter. 

i havent posted for so long so have this. also always remember i liked him first bcs i was in love already when i read the book two years ago. everyone else back off!! please let me know if u liked this and maybe ill write smth longer for coryo later xx

[moonstruckme]

In a week-

Hear me out: Rockstar Poly!marauders and Rockstar!reader???? Like, maybe no one knew the marauders was dating reader till they performed together for an event?????

Thanks for requesting lovely!

join the party

rockstar poly!marauders x rockstar!reader ♡ 1k words

The tabloids had started speculating when too many of your tour dates lined up. It’s only natural that you’d end up spending some time together, in the same occupation and occupying the same spheres, so you were seen with each of the boys at various eateries, at afterparties, on the street. The only problem for journalists was, they couldn’t figure out which band member you were dating. 

They were clutching at straws. A picture of you grabbing Remus’ hand to pull him into a store, an interview wherein Sirius had complimented your new single, a zoomed-in video of James carrying four coffees back up to the hotel instead of three. The speculation was all over the place, scattered and nearly baseless. 

Not after tonight. It had been Lily, the Marauders’ manager, who’d had the idea to take this story by the reins. She’d pointed out that fans were only getting more obsessed with the question of which of the boys you were dating, and with both of you releasing new albums soon, it was as good a time as any to capitalize on that interest. Plus, if you did the big reveal before any magazine could figure it out, it’d be your concert that went viral, not their publication. “More press,” she’d said enticingly, “means more people learning your names and listening to your music.” 

You’d thought the boys would be the ones to have qualms. Remus wasn’t the type to enjoy making his private life public (it was more an unfortunate side-effect of his career than a draw) and James always talked about how keeping your relationship a secret made it feel less like they had to share you with everyone else, but in the end, they got on board with Lily’s scheme quickly. You all agreed that someone was going to figure you all out sooner or later, and if your romantic life was going to be broadcast, it may as well be on your own terms. 

Still, that doesn’t mean you’re not nervous. 

“Loosen up, angel,” James says, prodding at your foot with his as you lie on Remus’ chest, picking through his usually well-guarded stash of chocolate. “This is supposed to be fun, remember?” 

“It’s not the show I’m worried about,” you say, rubbing your socked foot along his mindlessly. “I’m excited to play with you guys, I just wish we could do that without everyone making assumptions.” 

Remus hums in agreement, but Sirius makes a derisive sound, turning to look at you from the mirror. His eyeliner is half done, making one eye seem big and dangerous and the other naked. 

“You two are being so dramatic,” he says. “Of course they’re gonna assume, and they’ll be right. That’s the point.” 

You sigh, tipping your head back onto Remus’ shoulder, and he runs his hand up and down your side commiseratively. 

“It’s going to be a great show.” James tries again to lift your foul mood. You try to look less dismal in return. “You and Sirius’ voices go so well together, the crowd will love it.”

“It’s true.” Sirius smirks at you through the mirror. “And later, we’ll go to the afterparty—”

“Do we really have to?” Remus asks.

James looks sympathetic, reaching forward to rub his calf consolingly. “‘Fraid so, love. Lily says the only way to control the narrative is to talk to people after the show. We don’t have to stay the whole time, but we’ll practically be on the clock.”

“Anyway,” Sirius goes on. “We’ll go to the afterparty, and everyone will tell us how cute we are together, and everyone north of the equator will want to be us and fuck us at the same time.” 

You can tell Remus has something to say about that, but before he can, Lily pops her head into the dressing room. “Guys, the opener is finishing up,” she says, eyes lingering on each of your faces assessingly. “Everyone ready?”

“Just a second…yeah,” Sirius says, finishing his perfectly messy eyeliner. “Ready.”

Lily nods before ducking back out, off to go coordinate light technicians or whatever she does in the rush before shows. James offers you and Remus a hand each, hauling you up. You lick your thumb, wiping a bit of chocolate from the side of Remus’ mouth, and he gives you a half-smile of thanks. 

“We got this,” you whisper to him, and he takes your hand, squeezing lightly. 

“I know we do, sweetheart.” 

Sirius is the only one talking as you all make your way to the side of the stage, the crowd cheering loudly as the opening act wraps up their set. 

“Hey.” A hand lands on your shoulder, and you turn to find James attached to it. He’s looking at you with more than the usual pre-show nerves, something more like worry. “Are you really upset about this? We don’t have to go through with it, it’s not too late to tell Lily it’s off.” 

Yes it is, but he’s a sweetheart for saying so. “No, I’m okay,” you promise, reaching up to squeeze his wrist reassuringly. The other band is exiting on the opposite side of the stage, the lights going out. You’re going to be going out there any minute. “I’m excited to perform with you guys, and…and I’m ready to be done with the sneaking around. I’m just nervous, I guess.” 

James slides his hand up from your shoulder to cup your face, your hand still clasped loosely around his wrist. He smooths his thumb over your cheek fondly, eyes gone soft under the faint glaze of adrenaline. “Don’t be, sweetheart. You’re going to do great, and we’ll all be up there together.” He stoops lower so only you can hear him. “Just between us, you and Sirius sound great together, but you can hit notes he never could. They’re gonna love you out there.” 

You grin, and Sirius turns around, eyeing the both of you. “I heard my name,” he says accusingly. “What’re we talking about?”

The lights come back on, and that’s your cue. “Nothing!” you chirp, grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the stage. “Let’s go.”

[fanwarriorfictions]

Help Me, Help You - Part Eight

Fenrys x F!reader

Summary- The reveal of Y/n’s powers leave both her and Fenrys reeling in the aftermath

Warnings- Panic attack(this is very dramatized, not exactly like a real panic attack), angsty as hell, I’m sorry

Series Masterlist

Part Eight

You’re a healer.

Two voices blending into one. One face, dark and covered in the blood of his own father, another face, golden and staring at her with a mixture of confusion and horror.

One, her brother, the one she’d just met, the one who’d saved her from the cold grip of death, who’d tried to hold her back the moment she’d seen her parents, slaughtered in her living room. Had watched in horror as she’d crawled through their blood, screaming for them.

One, Fenrys, the male who stood there, unnaturally still, only his eyes moving between her and the reflection of his face, where a scar should have been. The one that had been on his cheek, the one she’d felt below her palm when his lips had been stealing the breath from her lungs.

The scar had been severe, made by the brutal lashings of a dead queen, had stayed because he wished it, hadn’t let any of the talented healers from the torre, not even Yrene, touch the wound. He’d done that for a reason, Fenrys hadn’t told her but she could guess, and she had taken it away, at least a majority of it.

The section above his eye remained, only just beginning to heal into the smooth skin that matched the unmarked side of his face. It looked like a scar that had been healing for years, not months.

“You’re a healer,” Fenrys breathed again, not a question but a statement, “A healer.”

“I’m sorry.” It was the only thing she could say, choking on the words, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, Fenrys, I’m sorry.”

Fenrys finally moved then, flinching away from his reflection, away from her. He turned, on unsteady feet, as if he would make a run for the door.

She felt like collapsing, “I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Fenrys asked, finally finding more words, he searched her face as if he didn’t know who she was.

“I- I couldn’t,” she tripped over the words, how would she explain this to him? “She could- I wasn’t. I didn’t mean to.”

Fenrys seemed to connect his own dots, “It’s why you avoided the Torre, why you were so scared of it.”

It was the simplified reason, but yes, the tower of healers had nearly paralyzed her in fear when she’d seen it. And the idea of stepping foot in the white stone structure had her shaking with terror.

Y/n couldn’t stop the flow of tears down her face, and she almost sobbed when Fenrys lifted a hand to his cheek.

“I’m so sorry,” she cried again, a broken sound tearing from her chest, a guttural moan of pain.

Fenrys looks completely torn, as if there was a raging war inside his mind, she couldn’t tell what side was winning. The horror, at what she’d done, or whatever feelings he might have had for her.

“Gods, y/n,” Fenrys said, and he took a step towards her, stopping when she cried harder, louder, “It’s okay, it’s fine.”

It was far from fine, the lie was evident in his voice no matter how much he tried to hide it. She’d taken away his scar, taken away his choice, it wasn’t alright, none of it was.

“Please, I didn’t mean too,” she sobs, “Fenrys I swear, I didn’t-“

“I know, kitten, I know. It’s okay, I’m okay.”

She could feel it now, how her whole body was trembling, violently shaking as she took a step away from him, as if she could hide from what she had done, what she’d revealed.

It’s alright, stop it, come back, they’re gone, what are you doing, stop, you’re a healer, a healer, healer.

Her brother’s voice from all those years ago slammed into her. The memories of her mother, dead in her father’s arms, his blank lifeless eyes staring at her. The way it had felt to lay her healing hands on them to find nothing left to save.

“Breathe, Y/n,” Fenrys told her, “You gotta breathe.”

You’re a healer. Stop. You can’t bring them back. Healer. You can’t use your power. Healer. She’ll take you.

“Kitten, calm down,” Fenrys ordered her, his voice sounding like a wall of glass was separating them, “You gotta breathe.”

Healer…She’ll hurt you…

Who will?

“Hey!”

Maeve…

And the world went black.

Fenrys had panicked, when he’d seen her eyes roll back, seen her body collapse to the floor before he’d been able to catch her, screaming for help despite the late hour.

A guard had rushed into the room, he hadn’t even had time to speak before Fenrys was snarling at him to grab a healer, that he didn’t care if he had to rip one out of their bed in the Torre.

Fenrys had cradled her head in his lap, off of the hard floor. She looked near lifeless, if it wasn’t for the shallow rise and fall of her chest. He monitored her closely, counting the seconds between each breath, counting his own.

Fenrys was still reeling from the shock. Seeing his face, his brothers, healed again after nearly a year. He’d almost forgotten what he truly looked like without it, had resigned himself to never see himself again, was happy of it, deserving of it.

But it was gone, most of it at least, the section above his brow had remained, still carving its path towards his hairline, a the edges softer, less jagged.

It had begun to heal, the edges smoothing over, but she’d stopped before taking the whole of it away.

A healer, she was a healer, and a powerful one at that. To take scars that were already set by his fae healing, and make them disappear without a trace, without even thinking, completely on accident.

She was nearly as powerful as Yrene, maybe even stronger due to her fae heritage. And she’d hidden it away, clearly terrified of her own magic.

And that was the strangest part. He couldn’t figure out why she would be scared of it, the gift of healing was renowned, was one of the most sought out powers in the world, but she was terrified of it, ashamed of it.

When the poor tired looking healer had arrived, he let her look over Y/n, moving the female to the bed instead of the floor. Once she was safely settled on the soft mattress he moved back just far enough for the woman to do her evaluation.

“She’s alright, a panic attack,” the healer said simply, “hit her head when she fell but she shouldn’t have much more than a headache when she wakes, I-.”

“When will she?”

The healer gave Fenrys a patient smile, like she found his fussing amusing, “she may sleep the rest of the night, she may wake in a few minutes, let her rest.”

It was the last thing he wanted to do, he had to many questions, to many things he wanted to say, wanted to do. He wanted to know why she hadn’t told him, why she was so scared of her power, he wanted to tell her he didn’t blame her for taking away his scar, didn’t hate her for it despite the raging storm of emotion in him, he wanted to kiss her again and feel her soft lips on his own.

“What happened?” Sartaq’s breathless voice reached him, the prince searching the room with wide eyes, “Is she okay, what-“

And then he stopped, his eyes flaring wide as he took in Fenrys. Took in the smooth golden skin.

“Gods,” the prince breathed.

“Everything is fine,” Fenrys says, struggling to keep his chin up, to not duck his head down, to hide.

“You may go,” Sartaq turned to the healer and the guard who had brought her, “Thank you for your help.”

“It is my pleasure,” the woman bowed her head to the crown prince.

Sartaq waited till the healer and the guard had left before he spoke again, “Fenrys, what happened? Are you okay?”

Was he okay? Truly? With the scar he’d chosen for himself nearly gone? With the female who had taken it laying unconscious in his lap from the sheer panic and agony from doing it?

“No,” Fenrys said simply, “I’m not, but it doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter, my friend,” Sartaq argues, “Of course it matters.”

Fenrys shook his head, “She didn’t mean to, she didn’t know why I kept it, it’s not her fault.”

It wasn’t, how was she to know that he kept that scar as a punishment, not from Maeve, but from Connall. Kept it as if the knife he’d driven into his chest was what carved the wound into Fenrys’s face. As if his brother had spoken his final scathing thoughts and branded Fenrys with them.

“What do you mean?” Sartaq looked between them, asking again, “What happened?”

“She’s a healer,” Fenrys whispers, suddenly worried that he would wake her, and that the word would cause her to panic again, “She didn’t meant to do it, she was, we were-“

Sartaq seemed to connect the dots, “She wasn’t exactly in control of herself, was she?”

Fenrys hadn’t even been in control of himself, he’d been so caught up in her that he’d been seconds away from taking her to the bed she now laid unconscious. For months, he hadn’t been able to even think of taking someone to bed, but he’s almost done it, almost crossed that invisible line, for her.

“Did you know?” Sartaq asked.

Fenrys only shook his head, “No, I didn’t.”

Violet eyes she’d never seen before, staring at her, claiming her.

“What do we have here,” the voice, young yet ancient, wicked and enchanted.

“A little cat from the west,” she said, circling, stalking, “Hiding under my nose, beneath the wings of one of my soldiers.”

Paralyzed, unable to move, she could only watch those eyes as they trailed over her.

“Where is big brother now?” the creature asks, “No longer protecting you, hiding you beneath his wings, no one to save you now.”

Alone, she was entirely alone in this world.

“I will have you,” the queen said, “my little healer.”

“No!” She cried out, “No, no, no!”

Scrambling away from those eyes, finally free from whatever invisible chains held her down.

“Woah,” a voice, not the creatures “Hey, you’re alright, Y/n, calm down.”

A warm hand around her wrist, a shackle, a captor. He was with her, she realized, he served the queen, he would take her.

“No, no, no,” she sobs, “please, please let me go, don’t touch me, please!”

That hand ripped away from her like it had been burned, as if her skin was aflame, she wished she’d been born with fire in her veins instead of healing, she’d be able to fight her way out of this.

“Hey, you’re alright,” that voice said again, softer than before, “you’re alright, kitten, it was a dream.”

That nickname broke through some of the haze, she recognized it, felt the golden warmth that came with it.

“It was a dream,” he said again, “it’s okay, kitten, you’re okay.”

Her eyes finally took in her surroundings, the ornate room, the massive bed, the male sitting before her, another by the door.

She shied away from the second man, not quite familiar with him compared to the golden male before her. His onyx eyes were comforting, searching her own with intense curiosity.

“It’s okay, kitten,” he said, that nickname stirring her foggy mind, “you’re safe.”

“Fen?” Her mind finally supplied the name, “I- I don’t-“

“You’re okay.” Fenrys shifted closer to her, “You had a panic attack, passed out and bumped your head, you’re okay.”

Slowly, the memories started to right themselves, as if her brain had finally caught up with her. Riding with Kashin, arguing with Fenrys, kissing him, oh gods, kissing him, and healing him.

Her eyes snap to the smooth surface of his cheek, she’d taken his scar away.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

His eyes shutter for only a moment, telling her all she needed to know. She’d taken away his scar, taken it without thought, and none of it was alright, she’d ruined everything.

“It’s okay,” Fenrys says, interrupting her spiraling mind, “Kitten, I swear, I know you didn’t mean to.”

“But I did it anyway,” she says softly, her voice broken.

Those onyx eyes keep searching her, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

The fear wrapped around her chest, binding her, restricting her lungs. A warm hand around her wrist, a comfort, a friend, a tether to keep her from drowning.

“I was scared,” she gasps, drawing in a large breath, “I’ve been scared my whole life, since the day Vaughan rescued me from that lake.”

She realized that the crown prince was still standing by the door, his eyes averted but body still, listening. She wanted him to leave, didn’t want to share this with anyone but Fenrys.

Y/n forced herself to keep talking, “Since the day he realized I was a healer, when I’d crawled through their blood and tried to heal my parents, murdered by his own father.”

Fenrys gently squeezed her wrist, a quiet reassurance that he was there, that he was listening, that he understood that pain, that she was safe.

“Maeve was known to collect healers, keep them like pets,” Y/n says shakily, “Vaughan knew that she would take me too, he’d already been serving her for a century by that point, he knew what she did to her pets.”

The hand at her wrist shook a little, and she knew that he’d been one of hers, didn’t know exactly what she had done to him, beyond what he’d told her of his brother’s death, but she knew there was more.

“We hid my powers, hid me,” she continued, “No one in Doranelle knew I existed anyway, to keep me safe, he kept his visits short, he didn’t speak of me to anyone, and I hid in that village, in the cottage my parents died in, by the lake I’d almost drowned in, terrrified that the queen would come and take me at any moment. I never used my power, even by myself, over time, I guess my fear of Maeve turned into fear of myself, of healers.”

She didn’t blame her brother for any of it, but she recognized that her fear, her lack of control, was because of him hiding her away, locked in that little village by herself for nearly a century and a half.

The last time she’d seen him, she had begged him to stay with her, to do anything to keep her from losing her mind. But he’d refused, to keep her safe, away from Maeve, and she’d told him to never come back.

And she’s spent the last twenty years by herself, hoping he’d come home, and when he didn’t, even after Maeve had been slain, she knew he never would.

“She’s gone,” Fenrys said gently, his free hand lifting to her cheek, “she can’t hurt you anymore, I swear it, kitten, I drove the sword through her chest myself.”

She wondered if he told himself those words everyday, if that’s why he kept the scars, as a reminder that no matter what she’d done to him, he was the one who survived. And the creature that haunted both of their nightmares was dead, and never coming back.

Tag List

@emma-andrea1 @mgchaser @anxious-study @lees-chaotic-brain @girl-math-aint-mathing @mali22 @nikt-wazny-y @theworthlessqueen @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @lethargicluv @hannzoaks @batboygirlie @foxysouls @kiarathace

[yeostars]

I Hate You, I Love You.

-kang yeosang<3

○ pairing- yeosang x reader ○ genre- academic rivals to lovers! early relationship scenario, basically a snippet into the times when two rivals get into a romantic relationship after finally confessing their undying love to eo (ahem, they still hate eo too, though) ○ warnings- none? slight 18+ scenes but they don't actually do IT haha ○ synopsis- sooo this one is the epilogue for my rivals to lovers yeo fic (down bad, but at what cost?) . basically this one is a study session turned into a pillow fight turned into an intense makeout session ;) i've tried my best to write this one even better than the actual long fic so i really hope y'all enjoy reading this. likes, reblogs, comments and follows are always immensely appreciated <3

"Huh, to be honest, your room isn't half bad. Really." You admit, peering at every little thing your eyes land upon, in this giant, spacious room.

"If that was meant to be a compliment, thanks." Yeosang snorted, right behind you, watching you take everything in.

This was your very first time visiting your boyfriend's slash academic rival's room. Infact, it was your first time coming to his house itself. Saying that you were nervous was an understatement, but somehow you seemed to be relaxing in yeosang's presence by now.

The fact that no one except the both of you were present in his house right now, also relaxed you quite a lot. Yeosang's parents had gone shopping and his elder sister was hanging out with her friends. Yeosang, being the smartass he is, grabbed this perfect oppurtunity and ideal day to invite you over, to get your assignments done.

Yeah. to get those damn assignments done. nothing else, probably, right...? although you wished you were lying, as you thought about how amazing it would be, to make out with yeosang on his bed.....

It had been roughly a month since the both of you started dating now, and it seemed like neither of you wanted to rush things. But if either you or yeosang made the first move, the latter would passionately reciprocate it.

"I mean it, your room is much more spacious than i imagined it to be. And also, so clean.... bet it isn't normally this clean." You said, chuckling, as your hand gently patted and felt the soft matress bed sheets.

"Well, not gonna lie, i did clean it up cuz you were gonna come over, You should be grateful." He joked, carefully picking up your bag and placed it on one of the extra chairs around his study table.

"Should i touch your feet or something? Geez, thanks for cleaning your room, i guess." You let out, suddenly stopping in your tracks to stare at the mini posters stuck at the wall.

Yeosang noticed you staring at those posters at the wall and stood right besides you. Good thing it wasn't something embarassing- or else he would've torn all those posters than bear all the teasing from you.

"Seriously, yeo? Math symbols, geometry shapes, equations and formulas..... you know what, i am not even surprised, you math freak." You grinned, turning to look him directly in the eye.

"So what? I am working to be the best mathematician of the next century, Gotta make sure to look like one." He replied, sounding quite proud.

"Might as well wear printed t-shirts with mathematical formulas all over it, My anti-math ass could never. I might throw up if i stare at those posters again." You said, giving those posters one last glance.

"You and your dramatic ass, y/n.....well, take a seat, if you're done exploring, and lets get these assignments done." Yeosang murmured, taking hold of his own bag, as he bought it towards his huge study table.

You sat at the chair farthest to the window, where sunrays seemed to be shining beautifully at the ends of the study table. Yeosang sat right besides you, eliminating the third chair and reduced any distance present between the both of you.

You ignored your heart beating loudly in your chest, quietly placed your books and pens on the table, and peered at yeosang doing the same.

"Well then, lets get started? As we promised each other, you're gonna help me if i have any difficulty in maths and I'm gonna do the same for you in science. Hope that offer still stands." You said, not quite maintaining eye contact with him, choosing to stare at those books in front of you instead.

"Hmm, alright. Lets get this done as quickly as possible." Yeosang said, already getting started with his work.

Around 40 minutes passed, the both of you working in peaceful silence, and even if you asked each other about a certain question or concept, the atmosphere between the both of you was still, peaceful. calm. not chaotic- and that's where is started to feel slightly...wrong? This had to be the longest time you've both spent in each other's presence without teasing the hell out of each other or bickering.

You couldn't help but steal quick glances towards yeosang's direction, admiring his concentrated self, how unbelievably hot he looked even when he was literally just, studying. When he furrowed his eyebrows cuz he probably didn't understand something, or when he mindlessly spun his pen as he read content, you wondered how you even managed to have a boyfriend as attractive as him.

You stretched your arms quickly, leaning back toward the chair, stifling a yawn. You were quite tired now, but you still had one topic left. You glanced at yeosang, and he looked quite tired himself, too.

And besides, things felt too boring, between the both of you, right now. You wanted to spice things up a bit, get him to kiss you or something.... but how?

"I'm taking a quick break." You announced, getting up from your chair, heading towards the giant bed, sitting comfortably at the edge.

Yeosang spun his chair to face you, and just blankly stared at you as you scrolled through something on your phone.

"What, tired already?" He asked, having the audacity to ask you this while looking much more exhausted than you.

"You look like you're about to pass out, right now. Take a break along with me." This wasn't a request, it was an order. You wanted both of you to feel fresh and relaxed before you started working on the final topic to finish your assignments.

Yeosang didn't argue further, simply closed his books and joined you, on his bed. He mirrored your position, sitting quite distant from you, but you could still feel his feet brushing yours..

You sat there, feeling extra comfortable because of the giant, soft pillows behind you. Yeosang suddenly grabbed one of those pillows behind you and you glanced at him, quirking an eyebrow and met his gaze, which looked quite mischievous and playful...typical yeosang.

"Ever been in a pillow fight?" Yeosang asked, pulling the pillow close to his chest.

"Umm....no? I might have once, with Jia, though." You replied, registering the fact that he probably asked you out on a pillow fight. you, his girlfriend, into a pillow fight.

at such moments, you realised how yeosang was truly, yeosang. no one could ever be like him..

"Then accept this challenge. Whoever wins gets their favourite snack as a reward." Yeosang snickered, coming closer to you.

"Oh, ITS ON. Y-" You almost screamed, and you didn't even get to finish your sentence as Yeosang approached you and hit his pillow skillfully at your arm. You groaned, gaining your consciousness quickly and attacked him with another pillow, aimed right at his head.

Here you were, the both of you fighting each other in an impromptu pillow fight, laughing, giggling and screaming like little kids. Just when you thought you couldn't fall deeper for yeosang than you already were, you were proved wrong when you met his soft and playful gaze, him smiling at you, the reason for his laughter being you. You wished this moment could last forever..

Your bodies brushed again each other's quite often, but the both of you tried to ignore that fact, too caught up in adrenaline and playfully fighting each other.

With a well-aimed swing, you managed to knock the pillow out of Yeosang's hands, grinning proudly. "Gotcha!"

Before you even knew it, yeosang lunged forward and tackled you gently onto the bed. You both landed in a heap of tangled limbs and pillows, your breath hitching as you realised that you were pinned beneath him onto the bed...

For a moment, everything stilled. The air, filled with laughter and giggles and screams just a minute ago, was now intense, and all that could be heard was your breaths.

You gazed into each other's eyes, your faces mere inches apart, You could feel yeosang's warm breath forming goosebumps on your skin. Every single cell in your body seemed to be aware of your current position, you could feel yeosang's strong arms wrapped against your sides, as if you had no choice to run away,,,

Yeosang's eyes softened, his playful smirk replaced by something more tender. "Y/N...." He trailed off, not bothering to complete his sentence. Just hearing your name from his lips, him being so damn close to you, you could've sworn your heart was going to beat right out of your chest.

Your hand, which had been gripping a pillow, slowly lifted up to touch his shoulders, to touch those strong biceps... that got you thinking just how buff your boyfriend was.

He leaned down, his movements slow and deliberate, giving you every chance to pull away, his eyes never leaving yours. But of course, you didn't. Why would you? You were waiting since ages for this to happen..

You lifted your head slightly, closing the distance between you. Your lips met in a kiss that was both familiar and electrifying, a perfect blend of softness and urgency.

Until, it was no longer soft, no longer sweet- just mere urgency, passion and roughness arising, as yeosang's palms reached forward to cup your face and your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, bringing him impossibly closer to you.

You pulled apart just for a second, you asking him hurridely if the door was locked (as much as you loved kissing yeosang, you were not prepared for the utter embarrasment if his parents walked in.) and he just hummed in reply, wasting no time and bought your lips to his again.

The makeout session seemed to be unending, and you weren't complaining in he slightest. The next second you broke the kiss to catch some freaking air, you could feel yeosang's gaze strongly fixated on you, and you couldn't quite comprehend what he was feeling.

"God, you're so hot." He said, in such a low voice, you would have almos missed it if you weren't so damn close to him.

"What?" You asked, blushing, although you had clearly heard him. You took in the sight of his cheeks heating up so furiously that your shyness was now replaced with a proud smirk.

"Say it again. I didn't quite hear you." You said, grinning.

"H-hell no. You didn't hear anything." He said, now tearing his gaze off you, just to be met by your smirk yet again as you grabbed his chin softly to make direct eye contact.

"What, THE kang yeosang getting all giddy and shy because of me? Yeo, if you don't say that again, i WILL tease you about it for the rest of your life-"

"I hate you. Y-you're so hot." He said, and before you could say anything, he quickly sealed his lips with yours, once again. You hummed in pleasure as his thumbs lightly massaged your cheeks, and you felt so damn good in this moment, you wouldn't dare to stop.

That was, unless you had to, to catch your breaths once again.

"Have you kissed someone before, um, me?" You asked, looking quite shy now. He blinked, not believing that this was the kind of question you'd ask him in the middle of a makeout session.

"I did. What about you?" He asked, shrugging, his eyes curious for your answer to the same.

Something familiar settled into your stomach. Bitterness. Jealousy. That would explain how yeosang kissed you so damn well. He was experienced, someone had already felt those wicked, soft, irrestible lips before. And of course, they did. Have you looked at the guy? It would be impossible to believe that he hadn't dated before.

"Y/N?" He asked softly, after noticing that you didn't reply quickly.

"Uhh...well, you're my first kiss." You said, not adding anything further. Yeosang seemed way too shocked at that, smirking soon after.

"Are you being serious? You're telling me, your arch nemesis, your rival, the person you quite literally hate, ME, i'm your first kiss? Insane, if you ask m-" He didn't get to complete his sentence this time, as you bought your lips to his, again. and again. and again- until the both of you were completely satisfied- which you weren't, not just yet. You kissed in perfect sync, perfect harmony- you tilting your head slightly to give him more access, your tongues hungrily meeting each others, the unending bites and teasing making you even more desperate for each other.

You opened your eyes to be met with a pleasant, calm, flushed yeosang. His plush lips were now red and glossy and slightly bruised because of you biting them so many times (he did too, so that was only fair) and he just, looked so fucking pretty, so handsome, so ethereal. and you were just so damn lucky.

"You are my first kiss too, by the way." He confessed, now looking quite serious. You nearly choked on air.

"WHAT?? You lied to me before...?" You asked in disbelief.

"Yea, i just wanted to witness you being jealous. You are so cute, the way you were pouting when i said that, i wanted to bite you." He said, caressing your cheek softly.

"Shut up. I hate you." You let out, pouting yet again and yeosang looked at you with such endearment and adoration, one would have never thought that you used to be at each others throats.

"Nah, you love me." He chuckled, intertwining his fingers with yours. You smiled softly.

"That, maybe i do."

[a-court-of-lust-and-stardust]

Love on Ice Chapter 14: The Encounter

Hi y’all. Here is the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it!

30 Days until Competition

Elain decided if she could have any superpower in the world, it would be invisibility. Which would truly come in handy right about now. She knew traveling to Autumn Region was risky, but the running track was large and she assumed it would be unoccupied at nine in the morning on a Wednesday. 

Oh, how wrong she’d been. 

She’d made it three times around the track before the sharp sound of barking forced her to pause. In pink leggings and a black crew neck, sweating like she'd been locked in a sauna, Elain stood before Beron Vanserra and two of his family’s bloodhounds. 

“Elain Archeron,” He greeted emotionlessly. She recoiled at the way her name fell from his tongue. Wholly unpleasant.

“Good morning Beron,” She answered politely, doing her best to still her erratic heart, eyes flitting around to spy a potential escape route. But Elain couldn’t escape if she wanted to. She wouldn’t put it past Beron to set the hounds loose right after her if she tried to make a break for it.

“It has been some time since I’ve seen you last,” He remarked, thin lips quirking in a way that told Elain he knew exactly why her presence was lacking.

She swallowed, holding his gaze. “Indeed.” 

“My son tells me you’re still skating,” Beron said, praising the pups as they rested by his feet without a command. Scout and Colt had never bothered her whenever she saw them. It was Eris’s hounds Jett, Remi, and Striker, that made her wary.

“I am,” Elain responded. If she kept her replies curt, maybe Beron would pick up the hint that she did not care to speak with him. Unfortunately, it was wishful thinking. 

“With a new, very interesting choice of partner,” He finished, sporting a full grin. “I do have to say you’ve surprised me, Elain. I don’t think any of us believed you would continue on with the competition after Lucien…pulled out.” 

“Pulled out is putting it lightly,” Elain said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Did you know? Did you know he was going to do this to me?”

Beron shrugged. “I suspected. And I cannot blame him for putting himself first, dear,” His voice, once void of emotion, had turned to ice. “My boy would accomplish nothing with you by his side.” 

Elain tried not to let the blow sting. This was who Beron Vanserra was. Cruel and arrogant. Critical. Demeaning. She was familiar with his temperament, but saying she was used to it would be a bold lie. Beron was not the kind of man anyone would ever feel comfortable around.

“Maybe that’s his own damn fault,” Elain muttered. She thought she said it softly enough, but the fire burning in Beron’s eyes said otherwise.

“Watch yourself girl,” Beron threatened. The command in his voice startled the dogs, and they both stood to attention. Colt bared his teeth. “Do not blame my son for your shortcomings. You failed him. Not the other way around.” 

Speak up, damn it. Stand your ground.

“Whether I failed him or not, Lucien dropping me from the competition worked in my favor anyway, so maybe you can extend my thanks to him,” Elain said, unflinching from Beron’s hard glare. “Azriel supports me. He encourages me. He believes in me. He teaches me to laugh and have fun. To love what I do. He has done everything your own son could not. Azriel is twice the partner, twice the man, that Lucien could ever be. And that, Beron, is your failure.” 

She expected more insults, a hound to snap at her ankles, or truly even a slap across the cheek for the way she spoke about her former skating partner and Beron’s own parenting habits. Had she gone too far? 

But Beron laughed. He laughed and laughed and dramatically flicked a tear from his eye. The hounds glanced up at their master curiously. “Fun? That's what this is about? A few smiles? Some laughs?” Beron shook his head, readjusting the two leashes in his palm. “Do you know how disappointed your mother would be in you if she were alive?” 

Elain froze, breath catching in her throat. 

“Truth be told, I do wonder what would dishearten Oleanna the most. Your consistent failure, your immature mindset, or the way you speak so…fondly of your new partner, who doesn’t sound like just a skating partner, but rather someone who may even be warming your bed. Hm? What would your mother think, Elain?” 

Words escaped her, chest constricting so tightly she feared she’d collapse from lack of oxygen. 

“Oleanna had such high expectations for you, dear, and you have failed to reach them time and time again,” Beron shot her a look that resembled pity. “And here you are, twenty-six years old, still without any notable achievements, worried about frivolous fun. You should be ashamed of who you’ve become,” The final blow came from over his shoulder as he led the hounds around the track. “I know your mother would be.” 

Elain stared down at her pathetic plate of nachos, tears dripping from her lashes. Running into Beron earlier this morning had thrown her off the entire day. She didn’t even finish her workout, opting to sprint home instead as the wind froze her tears. She spent the rest of her day on her pink suede sofa with a broken spirit. 

She picked up her phone, finger hovering over a name that yes, she had become very fond of. There was no shame in admitting that. Before she could talk herself out of it, she dialed Azriel’s number. 

He picked up on the first ring, as if he’d been waiting for her to call. “Elain?”

She sniffed, forcing out a choked, “Hi.” 

“What happened? Where are you? Are you okay?” His voice was the most frantic she’d heard, and her chest squeezed at his concern. A bit softer he said, “I haven’t heard from you today. I was starting to get worried.” 

Elain blinked away tears. “I fucked up my nachos.”

Azriel paused. “What…what do you mean?” She couldn't have been crying over nachos. Not that he would blame her, because messed up nachos would be devastating, but he knew in his gut something was wrong.

“I heated the cheese for too long and I ran out of jalapeños,” Elain blubbered, a hand flat on her forehead. A few teardrops dripped into the dollop of sour cream on her plate.

The sound of her sobs ripped through his chest. He exhaled a breath to settle himself before asking, “Sweetheart, what's going on?” 

“I need you,” she admitted hoarsely, hastily brushing another wave of tears from her cheeks. She didn’t care how desperate she came off. Nothing in the world sounded better than a crunchy snack and the warmth of Azriel’s arms around her body. “Are you busy? Can you come over?” 

It was the first time Azriel had ever been invited to Elain’s home.  He didn’t tell her he’d already gotten into his car the minute he’d heard her cry.

Elain had to physically stop herself from kissing Azriel straight on the mouth as he appeared at her door with a jar of jalapeños. Instead, she flung herself into his chest, inhaling the scent of his cologne. He held her tightly, brushing a chilly kiss to the warm skin of her forehead.

“You have no idea how much I needed this,” Elain mumbled into his shirt. The hard planes of muscle beneath the cotton grounded her. He didn’t flinch when she dug the pads of her fingers into his back.

“Me or the jalapeños?” He teased, laughing and gently swatting her hands when she pinched his side. 

“Both,” Elain answered honestly, brown eyes illuminated with tears. He reached out to brush a few away with his thumb. “How can I ever repay you?” 

“Well, you could let me come inside,” He suggested lightly, and she only now noticed the slight chatter of his teeth.

A blush bloomed high on her cheeks. “Oh! Of course, please come in.” 

It was a sight to see, really. Azriel, with his dark hair and tattoos, standing in an apartment that was much more lively than his own home. And it encompassed Elain perfectly. A wide grin painted his cheeks.

A pale pink couch, home to various pink and white pillows. 

White walls, decorated with pink and gold picture frames. 

Bright green plants of various shapes and sizes hung from ceilings, rested on windowsills, or stood in corners. 

“Could I get you something to drink? Water? Wine?” Elain wrung her hands, sheepishly watching as he studied her home. He was smiling, but what was he thinking? 

Azriel turned around, shrugging off his jacket and gently draping it over a chair. His hazel eyes sparkled as he said, “First of all, your home is beautiful. I’ve never seen so much pink.” She chuckled, biting her lip and nodding in thanks. “And I’ll have whatever you’re having.” 

Five minutes later, Elain and Azriel found themselves curled up on the sofa under a seafoam green blanket, a heaping plate of nachos between them (generously decorated with jalapeños), sipping Sauvignon Blanc. 

Conversation flowed easily, as it always did. Azriel listened emphatically as Elain described the process of redecorating her home. The process started after Mama died, and when her sisters were homeowners themselves. The apartment had always been bland and mostly devoid of color, save for Feyre’s paintings. 

There’d been shame and anger and resentment at first, watching her sisters buy beautiful homes for their future families. But Sweet Sensations paid well enough to cover the cost of new furniture and a plethora of plants, and the apartment had slowly but surely started to feel like her home. 

Azriel’s heart couldn’t have swelled with more pride. Did she know how resilient she was? Did he know how radiant her smile looked when she talked about her home? The things she loved?

One by one, nachos disappeared from the plate as the skating partners ate and drank and laughed, sharing more embarrassing teenage memories and their fondest moments with family. Every now and then, they paused to watch the hockey game on the television. Elain grinned each time Azriel critiqued a player. 

“Do you want to talk about what happened today?” Azriel asked gently, popping a nacho into his waiting mouth.

Elain sipped from her glass, exhaling through her nose. “I ran into Beron this morning at the track in Autumn.” 

Azriel’s skin prickled. He could only imagine what horrible things he’d said to her. He should have been there to defend her, or at least offer moral support. “Say the word and I’ll take care of it.” 

Elain shook her head, thumb grazing over Azriel’s knuckles. She needed to feel him, his hands or hugs, as much as he needed to press his lips to her skin. “I held my ground pretty well, I think. Until he brought up Mama.” She dug her nacho into the sour cream, licking the remnants from her fingers. “I don’t care if he insults me–.” 

“I do,” Azriel said lowly, nacho breaking in half as he tried to angrily scoop guacamole. “The bastard shouldn’t have even spoken to you.”

Her heart leapt into her throat at the slight edge in his voice. 

“He told me that Mama would be disappointed in who I’ve become,” Elain whispered, using her finger to push the guacamole onto his nacho. Azriel had half a mind to reach over and bring her finger to his lips. 

He understood her words after a moment of silence. “You believed him.” 

“He’s not wrong,” She said after another sip of wine. “I have changed. I’m still trying to figure out if it’s a good or bad change. If I thought Mama didn’t love me then, she surely would hate me now.” 

Azriel drank from his own glass, if only to prevent himself from cursing a dead woman. 

“I just wonder how long I’m going to feel like this,” Elain pondered, swirling her glass. “If all of this is worth it. Having fun…trying to fall back in love with skating…Every day I contemplate whether it’s possible for someone like me.” 

Azriel frowned. He hated that she was having doubts. That people, cruel people who had no qualms about breaking her spirit, put these doubts in her head. 

She needed inspiration, and fast. 

With a kiss to her fingers, Azriel excused himself to use the restroom. Once inside, he locked the door and pulled out his phone. 

The man on the other end picked up after the third ring. “Azriel?” 

“Yeah, hey man,” he said, blowing out a breath. “I need your help.” 

ARTWORK BY @chachachai17: Here

DIVIDER BY: @saradika-graphics

[xx-thedarklord-xx]

Can’t Spell Enemy Without Friend

Ao3

“We can’t keep doing this,” Draco whispered, head over his shoulder as it was his turn to be the lookout. “Harry’s going to catch us, and I don’t want to see his face.”

“I know,” Ron groaned, the sound muffled by his head in his hands. “Me either, but what choice do we have?”

“We could come clean,” Draco hedged, biting his lip. Merlin knew he didn’t want to do that either, but they couldn’t keep going as is. Harry was getting suspicious.

“I don’t know,” Ron grimaced. “If you think Harry will be smug, you haven’t spent enough time around Hermione.”

“No thanks,” Draco drawled. Granger might be able to hold a conversation with him, but they didn’t get along and no amount of time was going to change that. “I’ll pass. You spend enough time with your wife for the both of us.”

Ron lifted his head just to flip him off. Rude. Absolutely no decorum.

“We might be overthinking this,” Ron said.

“You’d have to use your brain in the first place to overthink.”

“Piss off,” Ron said, rolling his eyes. “I’m just saying, what if we are making this bigger than it needs to be? They might not even react.”

“After all the valid shit I’ve said about you over the years?” Draco scoffed. “No one is going to believe that we’re friends.”

“You never know, they might—wait—what do you mean valid?”

Draco smirked. “Keep up Ronald, will you?”

“Why am I friends with you?”

“My charm, obviously.”

“That’s not it.”

“My dashing good looks.”

“That’s definitely not it.”

“My sharp wit.”

“You’d have to have wit in the first place.”

Draco lapsed in maturity as his face twisted in a mockery of Ron’s words. “You think you’re clever.”

“One of us has to be.”

The day he willingly became friends with Ron was clearly a mistake. His judgment had lapsed right along with his maturity.

A shame, truly a shame.

“I can’t fucking stand you.”

Ron elbowed him in the side. “You can lie to yourself, but you aren’t fooling me. I’m your best friend.”

“You are, and that right there is a cry for help. Surely, someone will hear it and save me from you.”

Another elbow to the side had Draco contemplating poisoning Ron. The brute knew that he bruised easily and still used his bony elbows on the regular.

“You’re so damn dramatic. If I didn’t know you, I’d wonder why Harry was with you.”

Draco looked down at his hands in an attempt to hide a wince. “You did wonder that, though.”

“Yeah, but—hey,” Ron turned to Draco, all humor gone as he covered Draco’s hands with his own. “Don’t second guess yourself now. The two of you have been together for years, longer than we’ve been friends, but I know enough about you to say that your insecurities can go fuck themselves.”

Draco snorted, hating that Ron always knew how to cheer him up. “I wish it was that easy.”

“He’s going to say yes, you know.”

His heart skipped several beats. “You don’t know that.”

Ron scoffed, eyes rolling before he pinched the back of Draco’s hand. “Don’t be stupid, that’s beneath you.”

“I know,” Draco closed his eyes. “But there’s a difference in being the boyfriend to me and being the husband.”

“Harry loves you, Draco. I know it, you know it. The whole world knows it because the two of you can’t stop making out in public. Sometimes doing more than that, you nasties.”

Draco laughed, hating that it came out wet. The weight of the ring box in his pocket felt heavier than it had in the month that he’d been carrying it everywhere with him.

“What if he says no?” Draco asked, looking at Ron pleadingly. “Don’t deflect and tell me that he will. I want to know the truth. What if he says no?”

Ron’s hands tightened their hold. “Then he says no, and you reevaluate your relationship. Decide if that’s a deal breaker or not.”

Draco nodded; stomach uneasy at the idea of being rejected. He appreciated the honesty, it’s what he needed.

“Just know that I get to keep you in the breakup if he says no,” Ron said, laying his head on Draco’s shoulder.

Draco rested his head against the top of Ron’s, smiling despite everything. “He’s your best friend, he’ll want a shoulder to cry on.”

“He can keep Hermione; she has shoulders too.”

“Okay,” Draco said, taking a deep inhale. “I’ll do it.”

“Yeah?” Ron asked, head moving until he could look at Draco with eyes bright and a wide grin. “You’ll do it?”

Draco nodded, resolve strengthening, and diminishing the morose mood he had been in.

“I’m going to ask my boyfriend to marry me.”

———----------------

 “Where’s Ron? He said he had to go to the loo an hour ago.”

Harry rolled his eyes, propping his feet on the table, glad that Draco wasn’t around to see it. “Off with Draco I imagine.”

Hermione’s lips quirked as she looked out the window. “How long do you think they’re going to pretend to hate each other?”

“Forever.”

“It’s been four years. They can’t think we’re stupid.”

“No,” Harry agreed, placing his hands behind his head. “I think it’s more that they think they’re that smart. That we wouldn’t have the foggiest clue that they sneak out to spend time together.”

“Idiots,” Hermione shook her head. “The both of them.”

“How long are we going to let them think we don’t know that they are friends?”

There was a mischievousness in Hermione’s eyes as she leaned forward and repeated Harry’s words.

“Forever.”  

-----------------

I was responding to @wtfiswiththisplace ask for a writer ask thing. One of the questions was, ‘what’s a fic idea that you have but haven’t written yet’. So I opened my notes app where I keep my fic ideas and this idea was the first one and I got so inspired in that moment that I didn’t even read the rest. Just picked this one and the idea wouldn’t leave. So here you go! (Also I’ll respond to your ask, sorry it took so long) 

[junkdrawerfics]

the flustered detective

Kevin Ryan X Reader

Listen, I know this isn't Twilight, and I know this is like, a super random character that probably has such a small following, but I love him sooooo much, and had to write for him. So sue me, I'll probably write more for him.

Summary: You make Detective Ryan very nervous and everyone knows it. Even you. So yah, that's it, just a cute little fic about flustered Ryan.

Word Count: 1001

---

“Just go talk to her, man.”

Ryan jumps, jolted from his thoughts as his partner slaps him on the back. He casts Esposito a scowl, straightening his ruffled vest.

“I can’t just…talk to her,” he sighs out, defeat burning behind his tone, “I can barely get a word out when she’s around me!”

“I know,” Esposito snickers, “it’s pretty pathetic, actually.”

The glare leveled at him is deadly. Esposito holds his hands up defensively, inching away with a smirk still glued to his face.

“Sorry. Just saying. You need to man up and grow a-“

“What does Ryan need to do?” 

The sound of high heels clicking along the precinct floor makes both men go stock still. Beckett rounds the corner of her desk, fine brow raised as she lets her gaze drift between the two detectives. Castle pops up behind her, smiling ear to ear, which is never a good thing.

“I believe Espo here was trying to give our friend, Ryan, a little advice on his women troubles,” he hums, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Don’t worry, Ryan, I’m sure we can-“

“No, no no,” Ryan jumps to his feet before Castle can come up with another wild concoction of a plan. “I do not need advice from you-“ He points a finger at Javier and then spins to Castle. “And I definitely don’t need help from you, mister three divorces.” 

“It was two actually…” the writer mutters, looking at his shoes like a kicked puppy. 

Ryan gives him a pointed look, as if what he said sounds any better, “My point exactly. Listen, guys, I’m fine! I am perfectly capable of talking to (Y/n) myself.”

“Talking to me about what?”

The group freezes. Except Kate, who watches over the rim of her coffee cup, eyes dancing with amusement as Ryan goes beet red. You glance between the four, eyes wide with confusion as the men pass each other “looks”. They’re always so secretive, like they’re kids trying to carry out an awful plan. It’s more endearing than it is insulting, though. Esposito makes a show of shoving Ryan’s shoulder, making him face you before he saunters off to the break room.

“What’s going on, Ryan?” You ask as Beckett drags Castle off by the ear, against his dramatic protests.

“Oh, uh, with, with us? Nothing, we just um,” he coughs, blush spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. How cute. You fight back a smile, settling with a look of amusement that only seems to fluster him more. “We were just talking about a case! Yah a case. And I was going to…ask for your help?”

“Really?” You hum, head tilting ever so slightly. Ryan’s jaw clenches and he nods, lips pressed together tightly. You almost want to tease him a little more, see how far the blush goes, but you’re afraid his poor heart might give out. “Okay. I can help with your case! As long as Kate’s onboard.”

“Yah, yah, she, um, she’s totally onboard.” Ryan cringes at the lie. Hopefully Beckett won’t mind. 

“Great!” You smile, sticking out your hand. “I look forward to working with you, Detective Ryan.”

He nods again, rushing to take your outstretched hand. You giggle as he fumbles. Heat creeps up Ryan’s neck, and man, he wishes he could just say something smooth like Javier, or witty like Castle, but all he can do is laugh awkwardly, heart racing a mile a minute. Just because he’s holding your hand.

He’s a grown man, he chastises himself, a detective for the NYPD. He can break down doors and take on criminals, hell, even face torture, but the feeling of your hand in his? That’s what makes him crumble.

The man looks to be seconds from passing out, you realize, chest aching with something fond. You give his hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

“Hey,” you whisper, and those gorgeous blue eyes snap up to yours, wide and uncertain in a way you’ve never seen. It makes your chest ache even worse and your smile turns uncharacteristically soft for just a moment. “Easy tiger. You're doing great.”

That seems to help. Ryan forces his muscles to relax, taking a deep breath and nodding slowly. You give his hand one final squeeze. Your hands are so small compared to his, and not covered in calluses or scars, a thought he tries not to linger on as you slip away back to your desk. Just in time for his team to make a reappearance.

“Sooo?” Javier leans in front of him, eyebrows wagging, “What did you say, mister ‘I can talk to her myself’?”

“I um.” Ryan passes a hand over his neck, trying to get rid of the tingling sensation in his palm. Or maybe trying to lock it in his memory. “I may have…invited her onto the case?”

His partner's face falls. Esposito shakes his head, muttering disappointment under his breath, “Are you serious, man?”

“Yah, are you serious?” Kate presses, faking a frown. It’s impossible to be mad after watching that…ordeal play out. But she’s not one to miss an opportunity to mess with them. Just a little payback.

“It just-“ Ryan slumps back into his desk, shrugging his shoulders in defeat. “-happened. I didn’t know what else to say, okay? I just- I have the words in my head, and then she’s in front of me, and it’s like-“ He purses his lips, blowing out a sigh of frustration.

“It’s like everything gets scrambled and nothing fits together anymore,” Castle murmurs (casting a knowing glance towards Beckett, who returns it with a warning glare).

“Exactly. I just…I like her so much, you know?”

“Nope.”

Ryan just about socks Esposito in the face, glowering up at him, “Very helpful, Javi.”

“I understand, Ryan,” Kate offers.

“You do?” He perks up hopefully.

“Yah. I remember I had a hard time talking to this one guy I really liked…you know, back in middle school.”

Ryan groans, “I have no sanctuary.”

---

When I tell you I would die for this man-

[hereticpriest]

Life and Death

Relationship: Niki Lauda x Reader, Niki Lauda x Reader x James Hunt

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Pregnancy, Nurburgring Crash, Injury Recovery, Idiots in Love, Postpartum Depression, Motherhood, The Pressure of Motherhood, Motherhood Magazines Should Be Burnt, Misogyny, Near Death Experiences, James Hunt is the Perfect Birth Partner, Comfort Sex, Supportive James Hunt, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Mild petplay, Puppy James Hunt, Dry Humping, Light Dom/sub, Dominant Reader, Threesome - F/M/M, Open Relationships/Complicated Relationship Dynamics, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Self-Doubt, Body image issues, Creampies

They keep looking at you.

Niki's team, the ones with the radios, keep looking at you as if they expect you to fall apart as you step back into the main part of the garage while rubbing your massive belly. Which means something is wrong. Something is terribly wrong, and you are a liability - or, your condition is - which means something is wrong with Niki. You'd just been in the bathroom for the 600th time you needed to pee today - the joys of pregnancy, especially carrying an active Lauda baby that liked to stomp on your bladder. You can hear the dramatic rambling of the radio announcer as you step further out, your lips pursing as he mentions a crash. Fear grips your heart, and you swear it stops dead in your chest. You feel cold.

"What is it?"

"We don't know if he was in it." One of the mechanics replies, attempting to sound soothing. Your heart drops. You cup your massive belly from below, stroking your hands over the broad expanse of it reassuringly, as if telling your baby that everything will be okay. As if they can hear everything, and might be scared for their father as well.

"But you think he was.” You whisper, wide-eyed and unsure. Almost as if you are the harbinger of your own end, your own fucking banshee telling you of your coming death, you suddenly hear the announcer. The information comes in pieces.

Niki was in a crash. His car is on fire. Two more cars have hit him, and they can't get through the flames to retrieve him. He is on fire, and they cannot get him out of the car. Niki is dying, and no one can save him.

One of the managers moves quickly to grab you as you feel your world spin, and you cling to his arms to try and stay upright. Luca, you think. He murmurs something to you in Italian, or perhaps it's English but your mind is too far gone to hear him.

"They have to get him."

Tears fill your eyes, and you blink them away, angry with your own weakness. Your husband is dying and here you are, crying like you're the one in pain.

"They will. Mrs. Lauda, come on, you need to sit down."

"I don't need to sit down, I need my husband!"

You don't lose consciousness, but a part of you wishes you had. They take Niki to the hospital and you lie about your condition to avoid being placed in a room instead of with him. Even if ‘with him’ means the waiting room down the hallway from his room. You spend hours - countless hours - in a daze as you stare down Niki's hallway while they endeavour to save him. Clay arrives with a bag of your things, and a cushion for you to make the uncomfortable hospital chairs less unbearable. Tony arrives with food shortly after, and you let him bully you into checking your blood pressure, which is unsurprisingly high. You tell the nurse in no uncertain terms that if you're being treated for the obvious results of a traumatic incident and are thus unable to see your husband the second he's stable, you will use your God-given, pregnancy-ordained leeway to have a colossal hissy fit and ruin their week.

No one protests. Well, one of the doctors protests, however the nurses bully him into leaving you alone. They're well aware that putting you in a room will only worsen your condition. As a compromise, you let them check your blood pressure every hour, you eat at scheduled intervals, and you drink a near constant stream of glasses of water. Which means you pee more than you sit solemnly to wait. Hours more pass before the priest arrives at the hospital's behest, and you scowl at him despite the seemingly sincere condolences he offers you.

"He's not dead." You remind the pastor, and he gives a gentle apology that makes your blood boil, "He'll kick you out if you start giving him rites. He needs encouragement, not to be given up on."

Despite your warning, the priest comes bumbling out of the room a few minutes later, and you hear your husband's voice, raspy and weak from the fire and smoke. It gives you a moment of relief - a brief respite that you're not crazy to think that Niki is going to survive this. That you won't be widowed so quickly after your wedding. That you won't have to learn to live without him. It seems impossible now that you've had him - like you were living a half life until you found the missing piece of you. Willi Dungl, Niki's masseuse and friend, arrives as the next in the rotating wheel of Niki's friends and 'coworkers' that seem to have been volun-told to take care of you while he recovers. He brings food and a small blanket, corrects your posture, and when you tell him that you're too pregnant for good posture, he spends a good five minutes holding your belly up to give your back a break. It's an impressive feat - you're almost eight months along, and it shows.

They let you see Niki what feels like hours later, long after Willi has left, and visitors have been limited for the night. Long after letting you know that by some miracle, Niki has stabilised. You'd nearly broken down the door to his room right there and then. Your blood pressure finally goes down enough for the nurses to give you a bit of breathing room, though you heard them tittering about the likelihood you would need an emergency c-section when you passed them by for one of your thousand pee breaks. The only reason you didn’t step in and give them shit is because you could hear the concern in their voices. They weren’t gossiping - they were planning ahead and making sure everyone was informed as to your condition.

It doesn’t stop you from wanting to crack their heads together.

As you walk into Niki’s room, you steel yourself, knowing what awaits you beyond the door, even if you don’t know the extent of it. Niki lays on his bed, his skin raw and red and weeping under once-white bandages. You sit beside him in the chair set beside his bed, lean your side against the bed, and settle in for the long run.

“I love you, Niki Lauda. So does our baby.”

He’s in a coma, but you hope somewhere, deep down, he might be able to hear you.

~

No one ever talks about how difficult recovery is. How painstaking. How long it takes to feel a little bit more like yourself. Rarely does anyone discuss what bearing witness to someone's recovery feels like. How soul-crushing it can be to watch the person you love most suffer and endure. There isn't a guide for preparing to grieve your new husband, or how best to support his recovery while nearly eight months pregnant. No one warned you about how difficult it would be to not be able to help - to be physically incapable of helping - after a life of complete independence.

You spend your days at Niki's bedside - your OBGYN appointments are moved to the hospital where he is being cared for, and you like your new doctor well enough. She is very no nonsense, but she doesn't harp on you for neglecting yourself in the wake of your husband's condition. Instead, she finds solutions. She gives a list of dietary requirements to Tony, who takes care of your meals despite your insistence that you can manage on the hospital's food. He tells you later that many of the driver wives have been helping by making meals for him to bring. Gem that he is who knows you far too well after so long, he even brings a stack of thank you cards with their names and addresses so that you can write cards for everyone. You've always been fond of cards and letters, and it gives you something to do.

Your doctor requires tests of your blood pressure - twice daily rather than hourly like the nurses had originally been doing - and gives you a list of stretches that you have to do at least three times a day. The only thing you disagree with - the only thing you're truly upset about - is that she makes you stay out of Niki's room whenever he's being treated. When they first started changing his bandages after he awoke, they would let you sit at his bedside to offer whatever support you could. They didn't let you stay in the room for any major treatments, of course, but the little things. Your doctor felt that being in the room was far too upsetting, and the benefit to Niki was negligible in comparison to the harm it would do to you.

You don't tell her that sitting in the hallway and listening to him scream is no better. The unknown is just as terrible as the image of the raw wounds in your mind's eye whenever you lay your head on your pillow to sleep for the night. Living in a hotel for six weeks as a pregnant woman isn't ideal, but you refuse to leave your husband's side for longer than a night.

~

You married an idiot.

Six weeks after his crash at Nurburgring, Niki Lauda returns to Formula One racing at the Italian Grand Prix, against all odds and against all medical advice. You follow him to Italy, also against medical advice, because you're also an idiot. Thankfully, Niki's idiocy precludes him from being able to fight you on your own idiocy. Worst case scenario, you remind him, you'll give birth in Italy. There are worse things. In the end, he concedes so long as he has a flight on standby to take you home the moment the race is done.

There's a conference in Monza first, and Niki tries his damndest to get you not to attend, but you tell him to fuck off while rubbing cocoa butter into your expansive belly. You offer him a gentle smile afterwards to soothe the damage your snippy tone may have done, reaching out to touch one of the uninjured places on his arm. He takes a breath, adjusting the hat he's insisting on wearing as armour, and you pout at him.

"I love you, honey." You murmur, then again, "Ich liebe dich."

"Ich liebe dich auch."

Standing in the back with James Hunt, who you've only just begun to forgive for baiting Niki into racing in Germany, makes you begin to regret your decision. You can see Niki's nerves even if no one else can, and the reporters are like sharks.

“And what did your wife say when she saw your face?” The journalist asks, and you take a single step before James grabs your arm to stop you in your tracks.

“She said, 'Sweetie, you don't need a face to drive. You just need a right foot.'” Niki replies, earning laughter from the other reporters, but a scowl from the bastard one. You’d actually told him that he would be beautiful to you no matter what happened, that you still wanted him even injured (which earned you a croaky, dirty laugh) and that so long as he loved you, you would never stop loving him either. That was, however, far too personal for Niki to confess to this fuckwit.

"I'm being serious. Do you really think your marriage can survive with the way you look now? Do you think your baby will be scared of you?" The asshole asks with a callous sneer. You break James' grip, weightily shoving a chair out of your way as you begin to walk towards the reporter, but James grabs you just above the belly.

"Wait, wait, darling, you can't-"

“I’m being serious too.” You distantly hear Niki say, but you’re so distracted by trying to get James’ hands off of you that you barely pay attention.

"Like hell I can't!" You shout, and the scuffle draws attention while Niki stares at you in mixed horror and adoration, "Hey, why are you asking Niki questions that should be meant for me, huh? Come ask me to my face how I feel about my husband, you shitstain fucking coward!"

Niki cuts the conference as you're mid-rant, getting up and making his way towards the door where James is doing his best to drag you without compressing your tummy. You're not making it easy on him, but the moment you notice Niki going in the same direction, you stop fighting the Brit.

"You make him pay, James, you understand me? Then we'll be even." You mutter under your breath, and James nods darkly in your periphery, his normally smiling mouth twisted into a frown. The moment Niki is within reach, you stop him before leaving the room and kiss him as softly as you can.

"Darling, they're taking photos." James whispers, and while Niki stiffens, you are not put off in the slightest. So long as you're not hurting Niki - or at least, hurting him more than he's happy to endure to kiss you - you have nothing to be ashamed of.

"Let them." You murmur, breaking the kiss and giving Niki an adoring little smile while James breaks away from you both, "I love you, Niki Lauda."

"I love you, Mouse."

When the news reaches your ears that the reporter in question disappeared shortly after the conference and was last seen with a bloody mouth and possible missing teeth, you let go of the remaining anger in your heart towards James. Well, almost all of it. Enough to begin healing.

You've never been very good at letting go.

~

Watching Niki get into the car is almost as painful as the first time you watched him try and put on his helmet after the accident, but you let him go with every ounce of strength in your body. Tony tries to make you sit, but you refuse, so he instead stands beside you with his hand on your upper back just in case. Niki's start is shaky at best, which doesn't surprise you at all - you know he's scared despite how he tried to hide it. Luca pauses in his own celebration to squeeze your arm reassuringly as Niki gets back into his stride, and you nod to him, listening to the announcer narrate the race with bated breath.

Despite his rocky start, Niki Lauda places fourth in a stunning recovery that seems to completely overshadow the victors. He deserves this, you remind yourself. He deserves to be praised for his strength and resilience, even if it hurts you to watch him race again. You smile as he's celebrated by the mechanics and his peers, nearby reporters going nuts in their attempts to take a good photograph. Tony is the only one who sees you wiping tears from your eyes, your hand cupping your belly protectively.

The flight from Italy is long, and admittedly brutal even though you leave immediately after the race. Part of that is because you're fairly sure you're approaching labour, though you say nothing to anyone until the plane has landed and you're heading towards your car. 

"Niki, my love?"

"Yes?" He asks skeptically at your odd tone, and you pause as you feel dripping down your leg. He stops with you, putting a hand on your belly, "Are you okay?"

"My water broke, honey."

Niki takes a breath, stunned, then presses his hand to the centre of your back and ushers you towards his car, "I'll drive."

Yeah, you bloody well hope so. If your racecar driver husband wasn't driving you to the hospital, you'd throw a fit. Like hell you’re waiting for an ambulance.

~

Wilhelm Lauda is born in the wee hours of the morning after 12 hours of labour. Tony and his wife Liliana, the latter of whom was meant to be your support during the birth, arrive an hour late. In their stead, the most shocking person is able to make it in time to hold your hand - James Hunt, on a two and a half hour direct flight from London, is able to make it early into your labour to replace the struggling Niki. Watching you go through such immense pain was not something he ever wanted to do, and he admitted to a certain empathy now after watching you in early labour.

Your birth plan had never included your husband holding your hand through the birth - he was traditional and wanted to wait in the hall to avoid getting in anyone's way - but that had only gotten more important since his accident. He was in too much pain to have his hand squeezed off by you, and getting even the smallest bump would likely cause him quite a bit of pain. Even after James arrived, he stayed with you through the early labour to comfort you while you made your best attempt at breaking James' hand, until, of course, it was determined that you were in active labour. Niki left before the epidural, and you focused on James' blanched face through it to distract yourself from the pain.

James was a good birth partner, you had to admit. He held your hand even when you were screaming, wiped your face with a cool wet rag when you got sweaty, and played along swimmingly when you began cursing out your husband loud enough that there was no chance he couldn't hear you outside. One of the nurses gave him a funny look when he kissed your temple, as she had already asked about him once or twice, wondering if perhaps he was a family member. She was smart enough not to push, however, considering the long list of threats you'd already made at Niki for putting you through this.

At the end of it all, Wilhelm came into the world screaming with you, wailing as he was cleaned off and the cord was cut, but quieted the moment he was placed on your heaving chest. James left you to get Niki, and you blinked blearily as your husband pressed a kiss to your sweaty forehead, then cupped your cheeks and kissed your eyelids, before finally pressing his lips to yours.

"It's a boy." The nurse informs you both, and you sigh happily as you run delicate fingers over the top of his head. The babe nestles into your chest, and you let him rest there for a moment before carefully picking him up and laying him on his back in your arms so Niki can see him properly.

"What are we calling him?" You ask your husband as he pulls a chair close to the bed so he can see.

"Wilhelm. Wilhelm James." Niki replies, and James chokes on a sob, his hand pressed to his mouth in your periphery.

"A good name. Wilhelm James Lauda." You agree. The nurse steps in once you've both had a moment, taking your son to check him out while Niki sits on one side of your bed and James takes the other. James lets you sip on some water, then refreshes the cloth he'd been wiping your face with and wipes your face and neck down properly. Niki, meanwhile, holds your hand gently and tells you how proud he is of you in whispered German.

Soon enough, Wilhelm is brought back to you, and his mewling encourages the nurse to help you pull your gown down in the front to try breastfeeding for the first time. He latches quickly, and Niki smiles as he watches his son with all the love in the world. Only an idiot could ever look at him and think him cold. The nurse gives James a weird look when she realises that he’s watching you breastfeed, your other breast hanging out of your gown, and your husband gently stroking your shoulder and arm delicately. You’re sure she only doesn’t say anything because neither yourself nor Niki seem bothered.

"Hungry boy." James comments, "he'll be a little hamster like his father, constantly snacking, with chubby little cheeks."

~

Tony and Liliana arrive shortly after, and James departs to let them come in, kissing you on the forehead goodbye. He promises to visit soon to help out with the little one, sidehugs Niki gently, then heads off. You have no doubt he'll spend a night with one of the nurses before heading home. Niki helps you cover up before Tony and Liliana come in, and you can't help but smile as Liliana gives Niki's hand a gentle squeeze. It's her first time seeing him since the accident, but she doesn't stare, too kindhearted and far too preoccupied with the baby.

You're discharged in the morning after both yourself and Wilhelm pass all of your health checks, and Tony and Liliana meet you at your home in Salzburg with food and a helpful attitude. Tony brings in their baby shower gift, a rocking chair which he puts in Wilhelm's room. Then, he makes his way to your bedroom, changing the bedsheets for you since you haven't been home in a few days. He throws a load of laundry on, then sets about finding things to clean or move for you guys while Liliana forces a meal on you and Niki, then tidies the kitchen.

Not once do Tony and Liliana ask you what needs to be done - they assess the house together, then set about doing things themselves, only asking for permission if they have to touch anything personal. It takes a huge weight off of your shoulders not to have to think about anything to do with housework. Willie arrives to help Niki, which takes one more worry off of your plate, and you get to simply focus on your son. You're thrilled to find that - at least for now, as you're aware colours change - your son has inherited his father's beautiful blue eyes. He sleeps easily when you hold him against your chest, and he eats without much fuss, but finding the right way to get him to burp takes a bit of work. He fusses whenever you try to change his diaper, but you learn quickly that it's simply because he's taken after his father in another way - the babe hates to be cold for even a moment.

Tony and Liliana leave after a week, and are swiftly replaced by your parents, who take control of Wilhelm immediately and give you a chance to spend some time with Niki. Willie teaches you the exercises he's putting Niki through, and recommends a couple for you to use to rebuild strength after giving birth, though he warns you to take it very easy until you've healed. Willie cried when told the baby's name, and Niki seems very proud of getting that reaction out of the older man, boasting about it gently to you while you rub medicated cream into his skin for him. Thankfully, Niki's grafts have been healing well despite his insistence on racing so shortly after his accident. The donor site on his thigh has healed pretty well, but is still very sensitive, so you're careful even when you apply the moisturizing skin cream he was instructed to use.

Niki's brother Florian visits before your parents leave, and you all have dinner together, only interrupted once by a fussy Wilhelm who needs to be fed. Niki follows you up the stairs, slipping his arms around you while you feed your son, resting his head on your shoulder as much as he can while he rocks with you. Afterwards, he takes Wilhelm from you and burps him while you clean up and set out a change for him for after dinner. You manage to make it through dinner without the baby fussing again, but you're quick to take him upstairs to change him the moment he starts up again. Your mom is kind enough to tidy up for you, while Niki entertains your father and his brother.

Finally, after two and a half weeks of constant company, you're left alone. It's more difficult, certainly, having to maintain the house while caring for your newborn, but at first, the peace of isolation is a relief. Niki does his best to help out where he can, though it often seems that his best way of helping is laying shirtless on the couch with Wilhelm on his chest, keeping your infant occupied with a nap in the sun. Willie visits frequently enough that you teasingly tell him he should move in, and you often find him holding your son while Niki does his stretches, the look on his face soft enough to melt your heart.

Just under a week and half later, Niki flies to Japan with Willie and his team. As would be expected, you're unable to join him with a newborn to care for, and it breaks your heart. You spend the day before he leaves clingier than you've ever been with Niki, as if you need to soak up every moment with him in case it might be your last. Niki does his best to reassure you that everything will be fine without promising anything that he can't, but after his accident, his reassurances fall flat. He does his best, though, rubbing your back as you curl up in his arms for an afternoon nap, pressing kisses to your hair. He leaves on Friday morning with a tearful kiss from you and a snuggle from Wilhelm, promising you that he'll do his best to be safe. He gives you no false platitudes, even now, when you might've been soothed by a lie.

You watch the coverage of the race on television while snuggling with your son, Liliana bustling around your kitchen to ensure you eat something today. Her presence is a balm, but you can feel her gaze on you, and you know she's worried. She, too, does not lie to you. Instead, she gives you half of one of her Valium and a glass of water, then sits at your side to hold your son and rub your back. The rain in Japan has you panicking despite your best efforts, and the Valium helps to soothe your raw and aching nerves. You'll have to get a script from your doctor for the next time Niki gets in one of those death machines - because he will, no matter how much it makes you worry. You'd never ask him to stop. It would be like asking him to give up a part of himself, and you will never be a wife who does that, no matter how much you worry about him. You can swallow your own worries, chased with a little pill or a glass of wine (or six).

In the end, Niki defies all expectations as he is wont to do. He quits on lap 2 of the Japanese Grand Prix, to the great fury of Ferrari. James takes the championship by a single point, and Niki phones you to let you know he's going to attend James' championship celebration, as if he didn't just lose. You're, unfortunately, relatively sedated by this point, and Liliana has to take the phone from you to let Niki know that you're just exhausted. Whether you tell him about the Valium is your choice, not hers, so she doesn't mention it. She promises to take care of the baby, and to let you know that he'll be home soon.

Niki flies himself home, because of course he does. As he steps into your home in Salzburg, he finds you curled up in a chair in the baby's room, both of you fast asleep, while Liliana cleans up the remnants of lunch. He wakes you with a kiss to your temple, and you smile sleepily at him, leaning up to catch his lips with yours. There's nothing but love in your eyes as you look at him, even in the vulnerability of waking up, and Niki isn't quite sure how he got so lucky. He’d worried you would look at him differently, but there isn’t even a hint. You love him. You truly, deeply love him.

"I'm glad you're home." You whisper against his lips, and he smiles.

"I'm glad to be home, Mouse."

~

Willie rubs oil between his hands, warming it up before he begins to rub Niki’s back in slow but firm movements. You watch through the open door, gently rocking your son in your arms as Willie soothes your husband’s pain as much as he can. Thank god for the stern Austrian man, for he withstood Niki’s grumpier moments with ease, gave as good as he got, and found interesting ways to get Niki to do as he was told. You helped where you could - you cooked off of Willie’s strict diet plan and only rarely went off of it to make Niki his favourite schnitzel, you helped him with his stretches and exercises every day, and freely tattled on your husband when he didn’t do all of them. You cared for your son, and only rarely asked Niki for his help, though he was always eager to do the fun things with your baby boy - napping and snuggling being his usual baby duties. You kept the house clean since Niki couldn’t do too much with his healing bones and burnt lungs, on top of his still-healing skin grafts.

“Mouse.” Niki murmurs, and you blink, startled out of your thoughts. You’re still in the doorway, but you’ve stopped rocking, and the baby is stirring in your arms.

“Yes, love?” You ask, resuming your rocking, and he pats the table gently to call you over. You crouch beside the massage table, and Niki presses a kiss to Wilhelm’s fuzzy little head, breathing in the scent of your baby. He takes your hand, and you kiss his knuckles, then lean in to press the softest kiss to his lips while holding Wilhelm’s head to avoid him wiggling and smacking it. You whisper that you love him, then kiss below his grafts to avoid irritating anything, and he sighs as he processes the dual sensation of Willie’s firm hands on his back, and his wife’s gentle touch. Niki smiles at you, and your heart melts, the burdens weighing down your shoulders temporarily lifted by his love.

“I’ll leave you two alone. I’ve got to get ready to feed the baby before he gets fussy.” You hum as Wilhelm begins to stir again, and Willie scoffs.

“Strong boy doesn’t get fussy. His papa gets fussy. Wilhelm is simply hungry for he is growing.”

You laugh, smudging your thumb across the tip of Niki’s nose teasingly, offering Willie a friendly wink, then carrying your son down to the living room to get settled on the sofa while you feed him. You rub your belly, still pretty round even almost a month after giving birth, and flip through a motherhood magazine to make yourself feel bad about not having magically lost the baby weight yet. Guilt has been a place you’ve lived for the last couple of months while doing the best you could and finding it not quite enough. Advice from other women who’ve raised a baby before you has done nothing but make you feel worse, and yet you keep seeking it out. Maybe this magazine will have the miracle cure that will make it all make sense. Maybe this magazine will give you the piece of advice you’re missing that will make you feel less like you can’t measure up to the women who came before you. You were fine when Liliana was here - with her help, you were almost able to manage the baby, keep the house clean, care for Niki, and maintain your appearance to the degree you had before your pregnancy. Now, you were struggling to balance multiple plates, and wishing you were an octopus.

Wilhelm smacks his chubby hand against the side of your breast with a nipple-smothered cry, and you roll your eyes, giving him your finger to hold like he likes to when he’s breastfeeding.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Bad mommy. Sorry, little man.”

Later that evening, after putting the baby to bed and cleaning up what you couldn’t during the day, you snuggle up with your husband, curling around him from behind while he sighs blissfully under the gentle stroking of your hand on his stomach. Just as you’re beginning to drift in that hazy, comfortable place between sleep and wake, Niki shifts against you with a shiver. Instinctively, you press a couple of kisses to his shoulder, sliding your hand from under his shirt into his boxers to find him hard and leaking. You still can’t have sex, according to your doctor, so you carefully roll Niki onto his back and crawl down between his legs.

“You don’t have to, mausi.” Niki whispers, but his cock throbs as you tap it against your tongue.

“Let me make you feel good, Niki.” You murmur back to him, then pop the head past your lips while he groans deeply in response. His fingers tangle in your hair, and you take your time warming him up, looking up at him through your lashes because you know he needs to see it. You know that he needs to know how much you want him, burns or not, and this is the best way for you to show him while you’re still recovering from childbirth. You take your time making him come, and you swallow it down without a second thought, then snuggle up against him again with a lazy yawn. You’re exhausted. You’ve never before been so bone-deep tired.

“Goodnight, love.” You whisper, already drifting.

“Goodnight, mausi.”

~

James arrives three weeks later to a spotless house, a home cooked meal, a freshly changed and swaddled baby curled up to nap on Niki’s chest, and the fresh, wafting scent of body wash from upstairs. Niki greets him with a hug, though James is quick to take the baby from him, cradling him delicately in his arms. Niki smiles at the sight of James with his son, watching the way the tall blond man strokes his fingertips delicately across the baby's chubby cheeks and thumbs his little chin as if he's made of glass. It's easy to see that he's already smitten. Niki slips an arm around James' waist, and his friend leans into him a little bit, but doesn't put any real weight on him.

"Is she upstairs?" James asks while gazing at the baby, and Niki nods, his lips pulling into a frown before smoothing out, "What is it?"

"She ran around the house like mad all day, cleaning and cooking. She ran upstairs for a shower before you arrived, claiming she has to look nice if we're having company." Niki replies, and James scoffs.

"I barely count as company - I'm more of a lapdog, really. She didn't have to do all of this."

"This is what I told her. She has been..." Niki trails off, then sighs, stroking his fingertip over Wilhelm's little nose, then steering James towards the dining room to eat, "You will see."

James hands Niki a couple of papers that were rolled up in his back pocket, watching as the other man unfolds them and looks them over. Clear STD tests. He folds them and tucks them into James’ back pocket again, a bit of a grin on his face. Niki had discussed having sex again with James when they spoke on the phone, and seeing that all three of you were interested, James got a test. It was the responsible thing to do, and it would allow for a better experience since you were back on birth control.

“Then, I suppose it is a good thing that I did not buy condoms.” Niki murmurs, and James snorts, nudging him gently while he puts Wilhelm into his highchair.

“I would not have appreciated the late night run to the store.”

You join them a few minutes later, and James instantly knows why Niki is so worried. You look stunning, as always, but you have dark circles under your eyes, and your smile is strained. You're wearing a dress that suits your frame, and your hair is done up nicely to accentuate your face. He's never seen you put this much effort into your appearance - he's used to you wearing Niki's shirts and jeans, or simple but pretty dresses. You look lovely, certainly, but there's a certain lack of surety in your eyes that he's never seen before.

"Hello darling." James murmurs, handing the baby to Niki so that he can stand and wrap his arms around you, "You didn't need to do all this, love, it's only me."

"It was no trouble, James." You insist, and he presses a kiss to your cheek, then pulls you up in a big squeeze.

"I'm here to help, darling, put me to work all you like. Come sit and have dinner, take a load off." He insists, pulling out your chair, and you melt a little under the gentle affection. Niki notices, but he's not jealous of James. He knows where your love and lust lies, and the care you've given him since his accident has eased much of his initial worries. Instead, he realises how little time he's had with you since Liliana left. He spends plenty of time with Wilhelm, cuddling while you bustle around and do the things you can't do with a baby in your arms. But his wife? He only spends his nights with you, frequently interrupted by the baby for feedings.

When is the last time he kissed his wife beyond a peck on the cheek?

"I don't know if I'll be able to get through a whole meal. Wilhelm is probably going to get hungry soon. But I'll eat what I can, and come back after he's done." You say before taking a bite of food, and James raises an eyebrow.

"I'll feed him while you eat, it's no trouble. I'll get some cuddle time." James replies, and you hesitate.

"Oh, I haven't been pumping."

"... God, that must be exhausting, darling. Why not? My sister-in-law swears by it, says it makes it so much easier to do things while my brother feeds the tykes."

You hesitate, drumming your fingers anxiously against the table, then shrug, "I... well, a lot of the mommy magazines I've been reading say it isn't good for babies not to be fed naturally."

James and Niki scoff in unison, but soften when they notice your clear distress.

"They say that to make you feel bad, lovey, not to help you. Plenty of mums formula feed their tykes and they end up fine. I reckon the writers of those magazines use them themselves while telling other mums not to." James insists, and you soften a little as he strokes his hand over yours, then squeezes your fingers.

"I would like the chance to feed Wilhelm." Niki comments, and you soften even further, even cracking a smile as your husband rubs his foot against your calf under the table soothingly, "We have a pump - Regazonni's wife sent it as a gift."

"I... well, I could try. I do produce a lot of milk... it would be nice not to have to constantly drop everything every two to three hours." You admit, and Niki nods.

"I will get it out of the baby closet and we will try it." He states firmly, and you nod your agreement, digging into your meal with a bit more gusto now that you feel a little bit better about your circumstances. Your husband compliments the meal first, thankful as always that you’ve made him something delicious, but even more so because he knows that this schnitzel breaches Willie’s diet. James gives you a gentle nudge as he swallows a mouthful, letting you know exactly how delicious this meal is and how nice it is to have someone cook for him. You’re sure it’s a little pathetic how quickly your heart races to get a little bit of appreciation, but you can’t help yourself. Niki always appreciates everything you do for him, but even he will admit he sometimes forgets to say - he’d warned you when you married him, so it did not come as a surprise.

You knew how he felt for you. You knew that he loved and appreciated you.

You knew. And yet…

~

“Get your pre-pregnancy body back? You gave birth to a human being. How could this be possible? What is this scheiße?” Niki asks, and James scoffs, rolls his eyes and rips the page out of the magazine.

“Listen to this garbage - How to keep your husband happy. The first suggestion is to wear a fancy dress, put makeup on, do your hair up, and greet your husband at the door when he gets home from work. Suggestion two, give your husband a massage or rub his feet after a long day at work. Bloody hell. Suggestion three is to tell your husband to go golfing or for a drink with his buddies and not to complain about him not spending time at home. And then it scolds women for daring to miss their husbands while they’re at work all day, tells them off for being selfish for wanting their husbands to do chores or help with the kids after a long day of work, and reminds women that men provide their lives for them. Is this from the forties? You can’t tell me this was published this year.” James rants as he tears several papers from the magazine, and Niki sneers, watching as Wilhelm slobbers on a chewy ring, enjoying some tummy time.

“I’ve got yet another article on how to lose the baby weight by starving yourself and working out somehow with the no time you have while raising a baby and keeping a house.” Niki rips a page out, followed by a second, “Ah, and another diet plan. Willie would have a heart attack if I showed him this.”

“Why are you ripping pages out of my magazines?” You ask as you step into the living room, and James pats the sofa between himself and Niki.

“We’re taking the nonsense out.” He informs you, and Niki greets you with a soft kiss as you sit beside him, earning himself a happy noise that has him grinning.

“And James is taking the knitting patterns.”

“They’re half-decent.” The Brit excuses himself, pecking your cheek.

“I can’t believe you’ve been reading this, Mouse. Every article was written by someone who hates women, you understand this, yes?” Niki asks, and you hesitate until his arm slips around your waist.

“That blond woman down the road, Bauer… She gave me one. She’s got three kids, so I thought…” You trail off, then sigh, leaning your head gently on Niki’s shoulder.

“You should take your child-rearing advice from your friends and family, Mouse. Liliana is a phone call away.” He reminds you, and you sigh, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I know. I just want to be a good wife and mother-”

“You are. You are my perfect wife, Mouse, and you have been a good, attentive mother to our son. Nothing in these magazines will improve you.” Niki cuts you off, and James pats your knee, then lays down on the floor with Wilhelm, letting the baby hold his finger in his tiny hand. You let Niki guide your head down onto his shoulder, closing your eyes and settling in, and as you melt into him like chocolate on a hot day, Niki realises exactly how starved for affection you’ve become. He sighs quietly, picking up the breast pumps from the dish towel beside him and handing them to you.

“This does not look comfortable.” You inform him, but you obediently unzip your dress from the side, letting it fall around your waist but no lower. James glances at you over his shoulder, wiggling his fingers for Wilhelm, and you let him look all he likes as you remove your bra and drop it beside you. You get situated against Niki, then get the pumps set up and begin the process.

“How is it?” James inquires a few minutes later, and you give him a small frown.

“There isn’t a tiny jaw mashing my nipple, but it's only marginally more comfortable.” You reply, nostrils flaring as you squeeze the pump. Uncomfortable didn't even begin to cover it.

“You’ll get used to it, love. Niki’ll make them feel better afterwards, won’t you, mate?” James coos from the floor, and you kick his foot gently, huffing a quiet laugh. For once, you have nearly an hour of full, uninterrupted time in which your baby has someone else physically capable of caring for him. He’s been fed recently enough that he should be fine for a bit, and he’s happy, and when he does begin to fuss, James offers to change him rather than make you stop pumping and get up. Having help is blissful.

“Have your feelings changed regarding James?” Niki asks quietly, and you shake your head, happy that he keeps checking in even though he asked you this same question before James arrived to visit, “Good.”

“Have yours?” You inquire, fairly sure you know the answer.

“No, Mouse, they haven’t.”

“Good.”

You feed Wilhelm some time later, change him for bed, then rock him to sleep in your arms. It takes time - your little one takes after you in having trouble falling asleep - but eventually you’re able to transfer him into his crib and head back downstairs. Niki and James are still in the living room, however they’ve moved since you left. Niki is mostly in the same spot, sprawled across the sofa to get comfortable. But, where once James sat on the floor, stretched out like a lazy lion, he now lays across your sofa. He’s lost his shirt in the transition, but otherwise, both men are still clothed. They’re kissing, which is a lovely sight, and James’ hand has slipped up under Niki’s shirt to stroke his trembling stomach. You can see the way Niki arches beneath James, his hips rolling up into the Brit’s in a needy way that tells you you haven’t been taking care of him as well as you thought you had.

You’re not jealous - truly, you’re not. It isn’t jealousy that festers in your guts. No, the rot that has taken a hold within you has been growing as your body changed. As who you are changed. As you brought your blessed son - the thing you love most - into the world, a disease had taken root. You once thought that you couldn’t love anything as much as you loved Niki, until Wilhelm was born with your heart beating in his chest along with his own. And that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? You were failing as a wife or as a mother no matter what choices you made, weren't you? Or had you simply placed the bar out of your reach in order to punish yourself for not being able to grasp it?

Everything had changed in a matter of months. You had gone from a newlywed preparing for your first child with your husband to a wife, mother, and caregiver who was struggling just to tread water. This new you - this exhausted, sad, disorganised you laden with baby weight and dark circles - was inferior to the old you, wasn’t it? Change for the better was an ideal, and something to strive for, but you had not improved, had you? You now exist as a lesser thing than the woman that Niki loved, and that he and James had so craved.

Your downward spiral is interrupted by a breathy gasp, and a low moan that you recognise as if it were your own. Your focus returns to your present, and your eyes meet the stormy baby blues of your husband. His mouth is lax with pleasure, but in your surprise, you find honesty awaiting you etched into the lines of his face. His love is plain to see, written in the softness of his gaze, the jumping pulse visible in his neck, and most obviously in the way he reaches for you.

Niki reaches for you. While blanketed by the sun incarnate, by his rival and close friend, by a man desired by countless people across the world, Niki Lauda reaches for you. The sun moves atop him, golden skin flexing over built muscles, and the blue of the sky on a warm summer day finds you. Warmth suffuses you, sinking deep into your bones and heating you up from the inside out as James grins. He doesn't love you, but there is a deeply held affection in his gaze as he looks upon you. He doesn’t love you, but he has had you more than once, and he keeps coming back for more, something he has always been reticent to do in other relationships.

“Started without me?” You ask, and your voice cracks, but you swallow down your emotion and let yourself be infected by their lust. You lace your fingers with Niki’s as soon as you’re within reach and sit at his head, shifting over a little bit so Niki can rest his head in your lap. You grasp his other hand and hold both gently in your hands, lifting them so you can kiss his fingers. James takes the opportunity you give him, kissing his way down Niki’s chest and nipping gently at the curve of his stomach. You transfer both of his hands into one of yours, then let the other trail down Niki’s body, combing your fingers back through James’ hair to grab hold of it.

“Ahhh, fuck.” James rumbles, letting you pull his head back, his eyes rolling back in his head.

“Would you mind helping me out, puppy?” You ask in a light, playful voice while letting go of his hair to instead stroke his cheek. He sighs blissfully, leaning into your hand to nuzzle gently, nodding his head, “Good boy, pup. Yes, you are. Good puppies don’t use their words, they just wag their tails and do as they’re told, don’t they?”

James nods again, his hips pressing into Niki’s and forcing a broken groan from your husband’s lips.

“Good boy. Now, would you mind undressing my husband for me, puppy?”

Niki lets out a little laugh as James hops right to it, pushing Niki’s shirt up to tangle around his arms that you’re still holding in place. You release his hands, pulling his shirt up to tangle around his wrists, then reach down to stroke your hand over his chest. His pecs have a little layer of softness overtop, giving you something to grab ahold of and squeeze, drawing a shaky gasp out of Niki’s lips.

“Is this comfortable, Niki? Or would you prefer your arms lower?” You ask, and Niki stretches a little, then settles.

“It is fine. I will let you know if I am uncomfortable.” He promises, and you hum your approval, rolling his nipples between your fingers as a reward while James wiggles Niki’s pants down over his slim hips.

“Puppy, leave Niki’s underwear for now. Be a good boy and take your own clothes off now. Puppies don’t wear clothes, do they, silly thing?” You croon, and James hops off the couch quickly, pulling his shirt up over his head and tossing it, then hurrying to unbutton his jeans. You stroke your hands down over Niki’s body, and he moans as your breasts brush against his face, pressing a kiss into your cleavage while you slide your bare palms down over his stomach. You begin to sit up more, but Niki moves his ‘restrained’ hands to grasp at your chest, and you giggle nervously as you catch them.

“Naughty, Niki, love.” You hum, but he’s already got you figured out, and you soon find yourself pressed back into the sofa beneath your husband.

“Why aren’t you letting me touch you?” Niki asks, and you hesitate, “Is this more of the bullshit from magazines?”

“I look different, Niki.” You mumble, and he sighs, looking over your fully clothed body with love and regret in his eyes.

“I have not shown you enough affection. I forgot to tell you how beautiful you are - I have not told you since the hospital, have I?” Niki muses, and James scoffs, giving your husband a gentle push to the shoulder.

“Christ, mate, no wonder-”

“James, you may help or you can be dog. Pick one. But dogs do not talk.” Niki cuts him off while coaxing you to shift so that he can unzip your dress. James sits beside you, running his fingers through your hair and tilting your head so he can kiss you, soft and gentle but no less passionate.

“My perfect little Mausi, taking care of me, and the house, and our son with very little thanks. You must tell me when you have needs, Mausi, I cannot read your mind. And do not give me bullshit about not wanting to be a burden. You are my wife - you could never be a burden. You take such good care of everyone, Mausi. You make it look so effortless that I have clearly taken you for granted, haven’t I?” Niki murmurs as he rids you of your dress, then kisses his way down your neck, unclasping your bra as he goes.

“The Rat hasn’t told you how beautiful you are, Mouse, so let me.” James whispers against your lips, stroking your cheeks as you lean into his hands, “Look at you. How did a woman as stunning as you become touch-starved? You’re so beautiful, Mouse. Don’t give me that look - you are! And no less gorgeous than you were before, either. Motherhood has made your body softer and all the better for holding.”

You shiver as he kisses his way down the other side of your neck, pausing only to help Niki take your bra off and discard it. They trail down together, and you nearly jump out of your skin as warm hands grasp your breasts and squeeze gently. Niki is the first to take initiative, swirling his tongue around the soft bud of your nipple then popping it into his mouth. He moans around a mouthful of you, and it takes everything in you to avoid grabbing his hair, and to instead be gentle with him. James watches for a moment before following suit, taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking, thrilled to find you much less gentle with him. Your fingers tangle in his golden locks, pulling sharply on his hair, your head thrown back on the sofa cushions with astonishment.

“Tastes so good, Mausi.” Niki moans as he swallows a mouthful of milk, his eyes half-lidded with desire, “you’re so soft. I’ve never felt anything so soft.”

You whine, cheeks hot with embarrassment and delight intertwined as you struggle to comprehend the message that they’re both clearly trying to drill into your thick skull. James adjusts a little, and you pet his hair as he rubs the length of his cock against your thigh, grinding in little circles.

“You’re so hard, James.” You manage to squeak out, and he moans around a mouthful of you, blinking open those sky-blue eyes to stare up at you as he grinds a little harder, “Niki got you worked up, didn’t he?”

“Niki started it. You got me here.” James replies after finally releasing you with a wet smack.

“The chance to have me raw got you-” You begin to excuse, and Niki cuts you off with a kiss.

“Getting to feel you without a rubber in the way is exciting, Mouse, but the important part of it is because it’s you. I’ve never cared about having to wear a condom. But getting to have you? I’d do a hell of a lot for a chance with you.” James corrects you, squeezing your hips and groaning at the plush of them, “Can’t decide if I want to face you or take you from behind, y’know? Perfect bloody tits and those soft lips, or that fucking beautiful ass of yours pressing into my hips. Think I could have both?”

You giggle into the kiss even as you nod, and Niki breaks it to kiss your cheek, “I know how I want you.”

“Do you?” You inquire playfully, already feeling like a weight has been lifted from your chest.

“Mmm, but you might have to stretch first.” Niki teases, and you laugh, brushing your thumb delicately over his cheek while you cup his face softly in your hand.

“As long as you help me.” You purr, stealing a kiss from your husband and stroking his hip, then tugging his underwear down his thighs, “Take these off now.”

Niki obediently kicks them off, getting comfortable beside you while you pull James into a kiss and nip his bottom lip, sucking it into your mouth. You pull the golden blond closer to you until his pelvis presses against your thigh, then give his ass a firm squeeze, nipping him as he chases your retreating lips.

“Go ahead, puppy. You can hump my leg if you want.” You purr, turning your attention back to your husband and wrapping your fingers around his cock. He’s achingly hard in your hand, the tip flushed red and leaking precum which you swipe up with your thumb to ease the glide. Niki wraps his lips back around your nipple, swirling his tongue around the hard bud while James snuggles closer and follows suit. You find yourself lost in sensation as James rolls his hips into your thigh and Niki fucks the tight precum-slick circle of your fingers, both moaning around you. You’re not surprised that Niki cracks first, crawling between your legs and spreading them open into the space he was once occupying.

“Mausi?” Niki murmurs like a question, and you know what he’s asking. You pull him closer, kissing him so softly it’s barely a whisper.

“I told you, you don’t have to ask me, Niki. I always want you.”

The reminder of your words from so long ago rings heavy for Niki, full of love and promise, and he doesn’t ask again before pressing the head of his cock inside of you. It’s been a very long time, and thus it takes a moment of gently rocking his hips to get all the way in, but you both sigh at the sensation. Niki is gentle as he pushes your leg up against the back of the couch to get a bit more room, making sure not to stretch too far. James lets out a soft whine you barely thought him capable of, sweet as sugar, and you smile at him as you bring him down into a kiss.

“Wait your turn, pup. I promise I’ll let you have me.” You murmur, but you’re generous (and conscious) enough to wrap a slick hand around his aching cock and give him something to fuck into for now. James’ refractory period is notoriously short, and his libido is high enough to keep up with two partners easily, so you know you’ll have to take care of him more than once. Especially with Niki’s condition being what it is - capable of sex, but certainly not of anything too strenuous.

Your husband seems to be trying to prove you wrong, each rough thrust going deep and pulling soft ‘ah ah ah’s from his lips. He’s pent up, your poor love. His cheeks are pink with the effort, eyes hazy and darker blue from how blown his pupils are. You pull him down into a gentle kiss, rolling your hips to meet him while your other hand remains busy with James. It’s a bit clumsy - you surprised Niki, and he hadn’t aimed very well - but you’ve never been particularly good at multitasking, and you’re sure James prefers you focusing what little dexterity you have to the hand stroking his cock.

“Close.” Niki whispers into the kiss, and you practically purr, nuzzling your nose against his.

“Good. Come for me, Niki.”

“Fill her up, Nik, I wanna fuck your cum into her.” James groans, and Niki shivers, his rhythm breaking for a moment. He never quite recovers, but you don’t blame him. You hug him close to you, releasing James in order to hold your husband while he shatters in your arms, his hips rolling in sloppy grinds to try to get deeper and maintain the sensation for as long as he can.

“I love you.” You whisper, and Niki gasps it back to you as he lets you take his weight. Sensing James’ impatience, your husband sighs as he pulls out of your blissful heat, swapping places on the couch so he still has a good view.

“Do you think you’ve earned it, puppy?” You ask, and James grins, rubbing your hips.

“Oh, definitely.”

A snort leaves you, but you lean in for a kiss despite his impertinence, “How do you want me?”

“Hands and knees, please.” James replies in a bit of a sing-song voice, and he helps you adjust, his large hands finding home on your hips. You open your mouth to tease him, but he’s quicker on the draw, and you find your words lost as he thrusts into you. His groan is one of bliss - you know he’s fucked other women raw before, so you’re unsure why he’s so thrilled with the chance with you, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Having him want you - need you - this badly is almost more than you can handle. What did you do to deserve this? Why does James keep coming back to you when he’s so obviously desirable - capable of having anyone he wants whenever he wants. You’d say it’s for Niki, but James knows he can fuck Niki if he wants and he’s chosen to fuck you instead.

“You feel so good, Mouse. So fucking good. Sloppy with Niki’s cum. So hot and tight and pulling me in deeper.” James praises you, pressing a line of kisses up your spine that have you shivering, “If it were to be anyone, it would be you two.”

Your heart swells, and you rock back into him eagerly, heat coursing through you at the idea of having James around more often. You’ve never resented him for not being around all the time, and you were with Niki before James became a part of your relationship, but you do miss him when he’s gone. You know Niki does too. You wish sometimes that he could be with you two all the time, but you know he needs his freedom. You know that he wouldn’t be able to give up his flings, and the fun he has when he’s not with you and Niki. You know that it would stifle him, and you’d never want to ask that of him. You’re happy in your marriage, and if James found a relationship that worked for him, you would never hold it against him should he break it off with you. That being said, you were happy to have him while you could. James fit with you and Niki - not like a missing piece, but like a welcome and enriching addition. You and Niki are whole without James, but having him around is special.

You breathe his name, eyes rolling back in your head as James angles your hips and plunges deeper on his next thrust. He presses a firm hand in the centre of your sweaty back, low moans falling from his lips as he fucks you harder, deeper, his thrusts beginning to lose rhythm.

“You’re driving me mad, love. Fucking mental. How’s a man meant to keep his head with pussy this fucking good?” He croons, stroking his hand down the curve of your back to smack your ass gently.

“I-I thought it would be worse after giving birth.” You admit shakily, and James scoffs, spanking you a little harder almost as punishment.

“Ridiculous. No, you’re fucking perfect, Mouse. Feel like heaven, so tight and wet and sweet. I’m fucking all of Niki’s cum out of you, making a mess of the sofa, yeah? Don’t worry, I’m gonna - fuck - I’m gonna replace it all. Fill you up.”

James grunts as he redoubles his efforts, fucking into you harder, his breathing harsh as he gets closer. You can feel him throbbing inside of you, and you nearly yelp as familiar fingers press and roll your clit just right while James clutches your hips so tightly it nearly hurts. He fucks you harder, a desperate groan slipping from his lips as he tips over the edge and fucks his spend into you like he’s trying to plant it in your womb. You’re sure your cervix is going to be sore later, but you couldn’t care less right now.

No, all you care about is the way James tips back on the couch, dragging you with him to lay back against his chest, still balls deep inside of you.

“You look good together.” Niki murmurs, sighing as he gets shakily to his feet, “Let’s move to the bedroom - there’s not enough space down here.”

Later that evening, after having to crawl out of bed to feed your son, you snuggle down between Niki and James while they stroke your bare skin and whisper gentle praises. James strokes his thumb under your eye, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“You look tired, Mouse. Get some rest.” He whispers, and Niki peppers kisses across your shoulders.

“We should go to Ibiza. Get away, enjoy the warmth, and find someone to help with the baby to give us time for each other.” Niki murmurs, hugging you tightly from behind while James pets your hair back out of your face. You’d love to say that you agreed wholeheartedly and kissed them both goodnight, but truthfully, you were asleep before Niki even finished his sentence.

The next morning, you all pack up your belongings and head to the airstrip. Niki flies you all to Ibiza, and you get a call less than an hour after getting to your lavish home from Liliana.

“I’ve been trying to reach you for hours, honey. Tony and I have hopefully very good news!” Liliana coos, and you pin the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you position Wilhelm in your arms to let him latch.

“What’s the news? Sorry, Lil, we just flew out today. You must have gotten the voicemail from me before we arrived.” You reply, watching as James and Niki rub sunscreen into each other by the pool.

“We’re moving to Ibiza, honey. We want to be closer to you. I’m getting bored being at home with nothing to do while Tony’s gone, and we were talking, and we thought maybe I could help you out a little. You’ve got so much on your plate.” Liliana rambles, clearly thinking you might be upset, though you can’t imagine why.

“Liliana, please, stop. I’m thrilled. I miss you both so much, all the time. It’s hard being here alone, without my family. And I do need help. I was just talking to Niki about getting someone to help us. Having you here with me would mean so much to me, and to Niki too. He loves you and Tony. If there’s anything I can do to help you guys, let me know.” You interrupt, and Liliana giggles.

“Well, about that. We might have already bought a place. We’re packing up our apartment right now.” Liliana admits, and you cheer, “So, we’ll be in Ibiza in a week, and our belongings are going to be arriving a little while after us.”

You smile, pressing a gentle kiss to Wilhelm’s forehead as he gurgles, milkdrunk and happy.

“I can’t wait to see you. We’ve got a bright future ahead of us, Lil.” You murmur, and Liliana laughs happily.

“There’s my girl. You sound like you’re a bit more yourself, don’t you? I’ll call you when we get to town, okay?”

“Okay. Love you both. Tell Tony I can’t wait to see him lying by the pool like a boiled lobster.” You tease, and Liliana’s cackles make you beam. Finally, you have hope for the future. And perhaps now, knowing help is coming, you’ll be able to enjoy having James around. James had promised to stay with you for as long as he could, unless you got sick of him. He’ll help both you and Niki find and care for your happiness - and you both clearly need the help. Together, you will figure out how to move forwards.

Together.

[razorblade180]

Stage reveal

[Teapot]

Paimon:Three hundred wishes! An indomitable will! One golden hair boy’s determination and not to mention 75 pity! It all happens here!!!

Aether:Nice intro.

Paimon:Felt appropriate. Though it might be anticlimactic if Furina shows up in one go.

Aether:That’s the point! *throws ten wishes*

Golden Meteor!

Keqing:You really think it’s going to be her?

???:HAHAHAHAHA~

Nilou:Judging by that sound…yes.

Aether carefully runs with his arms out until the gold light finally fades and Furina lands squarely in his arms.

Furina:Splendid! Simply splendid! Bravo in participating for my wonderful entrance!

Aether:*mutters* You had no land strategy, did you?

The whimsical girl completely ignores the absolutely true accusations, favoring to stand on her own two feet and greet the gaggle of people who attended this glorious occasion.

Furina:Greetings! I’m-

Everyone:We know.

Ayato:He’s mentioned you.

Nahida:More than that. He’s asked us all to help build you for awhile now.

Aether:She didn’t need to know that.

Lynette:My brother is gathering your flowers as we speak, upon Aether’s request.

Aether:I thought I invited friends, not enemies here.

Furina:Well, well, *turns around* well! It would appear despite your blatant shenanigans towards me, you actually wanted me around? Isn’t that adorable?

Paimon:Big talk coming from someone dedicated to letting people wait. You fell faster than anyone Paimon has seen. Didn’t even entertain the idea of making him “work for it”

Furina:I- I just happened to weigh the options is all! It was impossible for me not to arrive, so why not start off with a bang and allow more time for the real drama to begin!

She dramatically points to the weapon banner vendor. Suddenly, nobody but Nilou and Furina were having a good time. The only thing guaranteed was pain but yet they held join in the idea of things working out. Aether decided not to waste time and started lighting the sky with colors from his wishes.

Yaoyao:…Huh? *holds constellation* That was unexpected.

Keqing:That tends to happen from time to time. Congratulations. That’s your second one.

Kaveh:*holds constellation* What the?

Nilou:(Wow. I really do win today.)

Mika:*holds constellation* Oh wow. I got one too!

Eula:Now get five more.

Aether:(Why is my luck for characters better on here than the standard?)

Golden Meteor!

Kokomi:Heads up. It could be anything.

Furina:Ha! Anything!? The answer is as clear as water. *holds hand out*

The light falls straight down into her hand brilliantly. As it fades, Furina’s own gaze lights up as she brandishes her blade.

Furina:See!? Clear as water! (Oh my gods, that could’ve been sooo embarrassing!)

Everyone:(She’s trembling…)

Aether wastes no time in dumping more wishes until another gold light. Unfortunately …

Jade fall splendor

Baizhu, in the distance:Pull for me now!

Aether:Let’s all pretend that was the wind. *spends more primos*

Jade fall splendor

Bahizhu:Puuullllll

Aether:Not gonna lie, this hurts.

Nilou:I don’t even feel good about this outcome.

Ayato:So you’re giving me the sword?

Nilou:Mmm, no. I’ll just cherish it more.

After several painful wishful, the dancer gained her new blade.

Paimon:Okay then. Cheer up Aether! Now let’s use the remainder to get Charlotte! You still around 130.

Aether:*toses 20* I know it just sucks a little to-

Golden Meteor!

Everyone:…..*looks at Furina*

Furina:…..*reveals constellation* Praise my generosity! Let the good times return!

80 wishes later….

Aether:I just want Charlotte around!!! Is she at work or something!?

Tighnari:Look at the bright side. *holds constellation*

Aether:…Look, I love ya man, but you should probably be helping Collei. She’s drowning in coins.

Collei: *buried* I kinda like pressure if I’m honest.

Furina:Let me try. Clearly your luck ran out.

Aether:And your any better?

Furina:I don’t need luck. What I need… *toses wishes* Is an interview!

Charlotte: *falling from the sky* An interview!? Say no more! I even brought a gift for the occasion! *shows constellation*

Furina:Hahahaha!

Aether:*covers face* Unbelievable.

Paimon:Look at it this way. We can invite Navia to join us soon enough!

Keqing:Who’s that?

Paimon:This cool and sweet lady who holds…a Geo vision….

Everyone:Those still exist!? That’s so brave of her!

Navia, in the distance: Hey! Have optimism! It’s fine!

As fanfare died down and everyone went back to doing their personal tasks, Aether took Furina aside just around a hill.

Aether:Alright. Curtain is closed. I won’t mind if there’s something you wanted to get off your chest before I tell you the r-

Furina:*hugs him* …..Happy to be here.

Aether:…*hugs her back* Me too.

[glitterrosesnzz]

Cat in a Box

@hachiibun happy birthday!!! i hope i'm not too late to it shdflkjsldfs.

here's a 1.8k words long Lyney fic ft. various hcs

Aether silently stood leaning over Lyney’s shoulder as the magician went through the process of loosely explaining his newest trick.

“Now, I can’t tell you everything, of course-” Lyney said, tapping on the side of the magic box they were standing in front of. “But this box here is going to be somewhat of the main event for the show tonight.” 

“Boxes again?” Aether asked, “This is like, the third time you’ve used one. Is it like your cat instincts jumping out?” 

“My ca- I’m afraid you must be mistaken, Traveler.” Lyney laughed, “It’s only Lynette who got the cat genes. Although, I suppose I have been called cat-like by some people… in the mysterious and charming way, of course.” 

Aether rolled his eyes, wishing that Lynette was here at the moment, knowing that she at least would give a more truthful answer. But, she was currently off in one of the side rooms of the Opera House with Paimon, indulging in some sweets, and Aether didn’t feel like interrupting the two of them for something so minor. 

“So.” He said instead, “What exactly is so different about this box?” 

“Well you see, I’m going to change my dear sister Lynette, into a charming little bunny.” 

Aether blinked slowly. Then, he shifted, leaning against the door of the box slightly. 

“A bunny.” He deadpanned, “...Now that I think about it, despite it being one of the most well known tricks, to the point that I know it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do a trick with a bunny. Do you- do you even have a bunny?” 

“Why of course!” Lyney gave an overdramatic little bow, gesturing for Aether to move out of the way, before dramatically knocking three times on the box’s door. On the third knock, Aether could hear a slight thump, and when Lyney opened the door- 

There was a small black bunny sitting on the floor of the box. 

“Traveler, allow me to introduce you to Lapin.” Lyney said, moving out of the way as the Traveler stepped into the box, bending down to gently pick the bunny up. “Ah, but don’t tell Paimon or Lynette about him. This is going to be a surprise for my siblings as well.” 

“So Lynette doesn’t know that you’re going to ‘turn her into a bunny’ then?” Aether asked,gently petting Lapin and pushing himself up against the wall of the box as Lyney subconsciously stepped in as well in order to speak face to face. There was barely enough room for the both of them to stand in the box without brushing together. “Why wouldn’t you tell her-” 

Aether’s question was cut off by the sound of a click- and they both tensed, but neither of them was fast enough to react as the door to the box swung closed. 

Aether’s elemental vision activated automatically, acting almost like night vision. It was through this that he only just barely caught the brief flash of panic on Lyney’s face. 

“Well!” Lyney’s voice held an amount of practiced calm to it that, if Aether didn’t know better, he wouldn’t even realize was faked. “This is certainly unexpected.” 

“...Can you get us out?” Aether asked, tilting his head slightly as Lyney’s nose twitched. 

“Welllll… no. There is, unfortunately, no switch on the inside of this box! There is a failsafe though, it should open on it’s own in about ten minutes.” 

And, well, Aether was pretty sure that was a bold-faced lie, considering he was quite certain he could feel what seemed like a switch or other sort of mechanism pressed up against the center of his back. It was in a position he couldn’t quite reach on his own, especially with a bunny in his arms, but Lyney would only have to just reach around him… 

Maybe he didn’t want to get too close? Now that he was staring, it did seem like Lyney was pressed as close against his side of the box as he could be, slightly tensed up. It had never really seemed like Lyney had much problems with physical touch before, but maybe this was just a bit too much. 

Still though… 

“We could just call for Lynette and Paimon to get us out.” Aether suggested, “I’m sure they’d hear us if we yelled, this place isn’t that big, and the sounds from the stage echo everywhere-” 

“There’s no need for that.” Lyney sounded slightly breathless, which was strange, considering they were doing no physical activity at all. “Lynette isn’t meant to know about our little friend Lapin here anyways, remember?” 

“And why is tha-” Aether stopped himself mid-sentence, watching as Lyney’s expression twisted slightly- which was strange. Lyney didn’t normally allow so many different facial expressions to slip through his mask. Albeit… he might not know that Aether could see him right now, the box would be pretty dark for the average person after all. “...Are you okay?” 

Almost instantly, the strange expression vanished from Lyney’s face, replaced with his usual calm and collected composure, but still, Aether couldn’t help but feel like there was something slightly off. 

“Perfectly fine as always!” Lyney said. Aether narrowed his eyes in suspicion, lightly scritching at Lapin’s head as he thought- 

Only to be startled as, without any pre-warning, Lyney suddenly jerked his head to the side, hat sliding slightly askew as he half stifled a sneeze. 

“Heh’KSh-!!” The half-stifle was extremely ineffective at preventing the other side effects that happened to come with a vision user sneezing, the entire box briefly lighting up with tiny sparks of pyro. But that wasn’t what surprised Aether the most. 

No, that honor went to the cat ears and tail that suddenly and mysteriously appeared on Lyney’s body. 

“Oh darn…” Lyney muttered, before clearing his throat. “Apologies, that kind of snuck up on me.” 

…Should Aether ask about the ears? Would that be rude? It was clearly something that Lyney wanted to hide. 

Aether didn’t get the chance to ask, as the next moment, Lyney’s expression twisted, and he was jolting to the side with another failed half-stifle, the box lighting up with pyro sparks one again. One of said sparks lightly brushed up against Aether’s cheek, and he quietly hissed at the slight sting. Lyney muttered a quiet apology under his breath, holding one finger against his nose. 

Right. Random cat ear generation aside, something told Aether that Lyney’s sneezing was not going to stop anytime soon, and Aether would rather get out of the box before he got burned, thank you very much. 

“Lyney.” Aether said, watching as Lyney quietly sniffled, suddenly looking slightly nervous. 

“Yes, Traveler?” 

“I know the switch thing was a lie. I can feel it up against my back.” Aether deadpanned, and, for some reason, Lyney almost seemed to… relax? Strange. “So hurry up and get over here and get us out before you end up burning one of us.”

Ah, and Lyney was tense again. 

“Oh, right.” One of Lyney’s cat ears twitched, and it took all of Aether’s strength to bite his tongue and keep himself from commenting on it. Slowly, Lyney moved closer, until they were almost face to face, his hands moving to reach behind Aether’s back to find the mechanism. Lapin seemed curious about the new proximity, the bunny’s ears twitching. Lyney slightly twisted his face away from it. “Sorry, it’s slightly more complicated than a simple switch, it might- might take me a momen- hH-” 

It was with near-lightening speed that Aether’s hand shot up, pinching Lyney’s nose shut. Based on Lyney’s past two attempts at stifling, this was not going to end well if the magician was left on his own, and Aether was not going to get burned today, thank you. 

Lyney almost seemed startled for a second, but the sudden action was clearly not enough to chase the urge to sneeze away. 

“Hih’NKsh!” There was no sparks this time, but based on the way Lyney’s breath continued to audibly hitch afterwards, his cat ears pressed back against his head, and how, through his glove, Aether could feel Lyney’s nose twitch, Aether could tell this wouldn’t be the last sneeze. “Tr-Traveler, wh-hIh- what-” 

“Just focus on getting the door open.” Aether said. Lyney seemed to follow that instruction, Aether could just barely make out the sensation of the magician’s hands moving behind his back, surprisingly steady even as Lyney’s hitching breaths turned desperate. 

“Hehh…hh…hiHH–!” Lyney seemed to only just barely choke back a sneeze. Aether rolled his eyes. What, was he embarrassed about sneezing into Aether’s hand, now? 

He was just about to tell Lyney that he was being ridiculous when there was a resounding click, the door of the box swinging back open. 

Wasting practically no time, Lyney forcibly pulled himself away from Aether’s grip, rushing out of the box. Aether followed behind him at a much slower pace, wiping his hand off on his clothes before going back to gently petting Lapin, but he still was just in time to see as Lyney finally succumbed to whatever itch had overtaken him. 

“Hi’KISHiew!!” Bright sparks appeared around him, some small outright flames appearing as well as Lyney’s hat outright fell off this time from the force of him doubling over, the sound of it hitting the stage covered up by the sound of Lyney’s fit. “Heh’SHii! H’EKShiew!!” 

“Lyney.” The sound of Lynette’s deadpan voice made both Aether and Lyney jump, Lyney forcing himself back upright to face her. She did not look impressed. 

“Ah- Ly-Lynette- hIH-hEH’KSHiu!!” Lyney doubled over with another sneeze, fit clearly not done. “Hh’ISHkiew!!” 

“So.” Lynette said, her hands on her hips, tail swinging back and forth in disapproval. “The little guy over here in Aether’s arms is the reason you’ve been sneezing your head off the last few nights.” 

Lyney was too busy doubling over with another sneeze to give a response, and Aether blinked down at the bunny that was snuggled innocently in his arms. 

Oh. So Lyney was allergic to bunnies then. 

…Pinching his nose shut with a hand that was likely covered in bunny fur probably hadn’t helped Lyney’s current condition in the slightest then. 

Well, whatever. Wasn’t like he could do anything to change it now. This information wasn’t even the most shocking thing Aether had learned today. 

Speaking of which… 

“So like, are the cat ears… real?” Aether whispered to Lynette. She blinked slowly in response, before sighing. 

“He just thinks they show too much of his real emotions.” She responded, and Lyney somehow managed to pause mid-hitch to give her a horrified look. 

“Lynette! Do- hIH… don’t tell- tell him tha-hAH- H’KIShiew!! Heh’SHIew!!” 

Lynette sighed, walking over to her brother and grabbing him by the shoulders, starting to lead him off stage. 

“C’mon, let’s go get you cleaned up so that you’re not still sneezing like crazy by the time the show starts.” She said, before looking over her shoulder back at Aether. “Traveler, find someone to take care of that bunny, we’ll find a replacement for tonight’s show.” 

Aether glanced down at the bunny in his arms. Lapin stared silently back. 

Hearing Lyney sneeze again from somewhere offstage, Aether let out a sigh. 

He supposed he could keep the bunny in his teapot for now…

[v--143]

Day 2- Accidental

🎃 [Lee! Seungmin]

👻 [Ler! Hyunjin]

“Can’t you- move- out of the- oh my God” Hyunjin whined as Seungmin loaded more boxes onto the elevator. They had been asked to bring some packages up to the JYP building, unknowing that there were so many.

However… neither Hyune nor Seungmin were the type to take two trips. So they squeezed everything onto the elevator.. along with themselves.

“Sorry your highness but there are about 20 damn boxes in my way” Seungmin said as he shuffled as close to Hyunjin as possible to make way for even more boxes. He got the last of them and was now trying to make his way through the jungle of cardboard.

Once finally in, Seungmin and Hyune were at the back corner of the elevator, waiting for the door to close.

“…dude”

“Mhm?” Seungmin said as he kept shuffling around the boxes.

“Did you press our floor button”

“…shit.” Seungmin huffed.

“Seungminniie” Hyunjin said as he grabbed his arm and shook, “you’re making this harderrrrr”

“You have long arms just press it!”

“It’s so far away from us”

“No, you’re just dramatic. Reach forward and press it hurry up!” Seungmin said as he tugged at Hyunjin’s shirt.

Hyunjin leaned as forward as he could to press the button… but couldn’t reach it just yet.

“Hold on-“

Hyunjin used his other hand to push off of anything he could feel behind him to reach the button. The thing behind him though… was Seungmin.

“AAghaga!” Seungmin shrieked as Hyune’s hand pushed off the center of his ribs.

“Are you okay?!” Hyunjin asked, not even looking back as he was still trying to press their floor button.

“Gehet your hand OHOFF ME STOP PUSHING!!!!” Seungmin had his back to the elevator wall as he grabbed Hyunjin’s wrist with both hands, trying to tug him away but failing.

“Hold on- just- help me get this button!!! Shit.. almost- hey help me push more forward” with that, Hyunjin pushed off even harder off Seungmin’s ribs.

“AHA!” Seungmin yelled as his ribs were pushed down on constantly by a desperate Hyunjin, “PLEHEASE PUSH OFF SOHOMETHING EHEHELSE!!”

“Oh shut up and just help me” Hyunjin sounded annoyed but was hysterical on the inside.. but it was no lie that he still could not reach that damn button. Smiling to himself, Hyune kept aiming for it.

“Just— a little— closer—“

“AH— AHAHA!!— HYUAHA—“ was Seungmin’s only response as he threw his head back from the intense grabs at his lower rib cage.

With tears already forming in his eyes, Seungmin shouted, “YOHOU’RE DOING THIS O- ONHAHA AHA ON PUHURPOSE!!” as he reached his limit from Hyunjin’s nonstop attacks for the last minute. He wished that damn elevator door could open.

“Am I?? I didn’t know that!” Hyunjin laughed out.

“HYUAHJIN”

“Mmm that’s not my name??” Hyunjin said with a scribble to Seungmin’s abdomen.

“AHA OKAY OKAHAY Okay OKAY! STOP! STOHOAOAHA—“

Hyunjin began to scribble anywhere he could reach since Seungmin was practically trapped by the boxes all around him. Suddenly, his hand slapped up against the wall and pushed two buttons (one of them being their floor).

“THAHANK GOD” Seungmin screamed as he laughed deeply and grabbed his aching, queasy stomach. His nerves felt like they were on fire.

-[going up elevator]-

“NO- STOHOP-“ Seungmin shouted as Hyune continued to go at him until the elevator finally stopped on their floor. Lucky for Seungmin, he was just a tiny bit closer to the elevator door than Hyunjin was by the time they arrived. So, he jumped off, knocking some boxes off with him, and immediately tapped the [Close Door] button. With that, Hyunjin went up to the floor of whichever button Seungmin accidentally pressed… but not before whispering some threats that left Seungmin running to find a hiding spot.

———————————————————————————

YIPPPEPEEEEEPEPEEEEEE I’ve been using a random name generator for the members in these prompts and it’s been doing so good tbh I’ve loved day 1 and 2 so far ^^