#But at the end of the day you still come home and feel alone when you really need support

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x wife!reader

Summary: A dangerous mission puts James's life at risk. You're consumed by worry and fear as you wait for news of what happened to your husband.

Genre: Angst (happy ending)

Warnings: reader and James have a newborn baby (named Harry), mentions of death, murder, blood, violence,

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

The clock reads midnight and still no one has heard from any of them.

You're sitting on the couch, your head in your hands. Lily crouches by your legs, her delicate hands resting on your knee as she rubs soothing circles around them, attempting to match your breathing so she can help you.

Naturally, you have taken this the hardest. 

"They'll be alright," Lily whispers as if she can promise you that all will be okay, but her voice is distant.

The only person you can hear is him. His voice rings in your mind, the way he sounds when he says your name, when he whispers sweet nothings in your ear.

You can feel his hand in yours, the way his lips brushed your cheek, and the only thing you imagine when you look up is the front door opening wide and seeing him walk in, with only a few superficial scratches. 

But the door doesn't move and instead, the room is silent. 

It's been hours. It was supposed to be quick. That's what James had said when he kissed your head and said you he loved you. He hadn't even said goodbye to the baby.

"It's an easy mission, nothing dangerous—they're probably lost, you know how Sirius is," Marlene says from her side of the room as if that makes any of this better. 

"You don't know that," you snap and stand up, pacing the room. You look at your friends, their solemn faces only making this worse. You can't stand their sadness, or even worse their pity. "Just—leave me alone—" your voice comes out hoarse, running up the creaky wooden stairs of you and James's little home in Godric's Hollow.

You hold your breath, turning the corner into the nursery where baby Harry should be sleeping soundly; unaware that his father isn't home. 

It's as it should be, you reminded yourself, gently creeping inside. He is just a baby. He shouldn't worry. You'll make sure he never had to worry. You lean over the crib, picking your son up into your arms. He's all bundled up so the movement doesn't wake him. 

"Oh, James," you mutter, feeling the warm tears fall but you hold them in for Harry's sake. This wasn't normal. Something felt wrong. "Where are you?" you ask into the darkness of the room, a line of moonlight from outside gently shines onto Harry's sleeping face.

You've always found it fascinating how much he can look like his father at only one years old and you wonder if that will carry on into his childhood. 

"He looks like a wrinkled pickle," James had said the day of Harry's birth, his arm wrapped around you as you leaned your sweaty head on his bicep, breathing deeply from exhaustion. Your husband had somehow managed to squeeze himself onto the small hospital cot, his hip pressed against yours as he glanced down at the infant pressed against your bare chest. "Ugly little pickle," he muttered, the lovesick smile on his face betraying his true opinion. 

"James," you'd scolded weakly. You're much too exhausted to look up as you keep your baby pressed against your bare breasts, calming him with your breathing.   

"You're beautiful, my love," James said, kissing your hairline. "You did so well. So brave and strong."

You laughed, his voice soothing you. 

"I just know our little pickle is gonna grow up just as handsome as his dad, ain't that right, bud?" James had teased, talking to the infant as if he could hear him. You rolled your eyes, simply letting the warmth of the two boys you loved the most lull you to sleep. 

Harry suddenly begins to stir, his little eyes blinking open and you instantly rock him. "Shh, baby, go back to sleep," you whisper, feeling horrible for waking him up. 

Harry doesn't cry. He looks at you in the darkness. He blinks a few times and then as if on cue, begins to wail. It's as if he can sense your sadness and all he can do with the emotion is cry. You feel horrible, sliding against the crib as you sit up, holding Harry up, as you rock him a little harder. 

"Oh, please, honey," you plead, holding him against your knees as you touch the little tufts of curly hair on his little forehead. You hope none of your friends hear him and give them a reason to check on you. "Please, my lovely, sleep. It's okay. Daddy will be home soon, okay?" 

You say it mostly to calm yourself down, knowing that it will in turn calm your son. You breathe, holding in more tears as you think of James. Where is he? You press a kiss on Harry's head once his cries have ceased.

You aren't sure how much time has passed as you sit on the floor, your eyes tired from crying as your baby sleeps soundly in your arms. The sounds of your friends have drowned into the background. You're having the most horrible dream as you drift to sleep, having cried exhaustion into your body. 

James is gone. He's gone and you can't reach him. 

You shift, your body unconsciously keeping Harry in your arms as your mind plagues you with horrible images. You can almost feel James's palm on your hand, his breath on your skin as he calls your name. 

But he's gone. He's dead.

"My darling," his voice rings in your ears, hoarse and broken. "Wake up." James's calloused fingers touch your cheek, a wetness you don't recognize seeping into your skin and your eyes widen. You're met with James's piercing brown eyes and he forces a strained smile. 

"Hi," he whispers.

Without thinking, you sit up through your haze and almost let Harry slip from your arms. Luckily, James scoots closer, trapping you in between his legs as he holds Harry to his chest, supporting your arms too. Harry wakes up again, his sleep schedule severely messed up as he begins to cry again and your heart breaks. 

"Hi pickle," James whispers, careful only to touch the outside of Harry's blanket with his bloodied hands. You blink, staring at the awful state your husband is in, which even in the moonlight you can tell he's covered in ash and blood, his face littered insuperficial cuts and bruises— still, he's alive. 

"James—" you whimper, touching his cheek gently. "What happened? Where were you? I was worried sick—" You squirm out of his legs and stand, taking Harry from him as you look for your son's favorite pacifier.

Once you've found it, you place it in Harry's mouth and set him back in his crib to fall asleep. You turn, grabbing your wand, and enchanting his crib mobile. Harry seems calmer now and you take James's wrist gently, pulling him out into the hallway. 

You'd already disturbed your poor baby enough.

After closing the nursery door, you turn the light on, placing your wand in the back pocket of your jeans as you look him over. His shirt is bloodied and there's a gash, but the wound has been healed. "Remus healed me. We were ambushed—we barely got away and I- they had to heal me before we came home. I wouldn't let him take me home to you in the state I was in," James says. 

Tears brim in your eyes. 

"But, I'm okay now," he says and lifts his hand as if he wants to hold your cheek but he doesn't since there is still dried blood on his hands. Instead, he smiles at you. "I'm sorry you were so worried. Lily told me you were inconsolable."

You scoff, sniffling as you wrap your arms around his chest. You inhale his scent, holding in more sobs as relief overtakes you. "Of course I was worried, you fool," you pause and sniffle, "I was scared you'd never come home."

James wraps his arms around you. "I will always come home to you and Harry. Always, okay?" 

You nod, resting your ear against your chest as you hold him. He sighs and rests his chin on your head, rubbing your back. "I'm gonna take a shower and you should go to bed, I'll tell you everything in the morning, okay?" 

You shake your head, holding him tighter. You just want to be close to him. You don't want to let him out of your sight.

James can tell and he kisses your head. "Okay, okay, my love. I'm not going anywhere," he says in a whisper and he sighs, "I never want to be away from you again."

[whor3ing]

𝑩𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 | 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝑺𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐

Chris Sturniolo!bf x f!reader

WARNINGS : smut, phone sex, FaceTime, tapping it on the screen, established relationship, lots of dirty talk, mutual masturbation, mentions of breeding! mentions of spitting (in mouth) usage of “slut”

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IN WHICH.. after a rough day and missing Chris while he’s away, What starts as playful teasing to cheer you up, quickly turns intense. Chris guides you through the heat of the moment, making the distance between you feel like nothing.

╰────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╯

second tumblr post! word count : 4.4k ♡

Any day without Chris' arms around you late at night felt like something was missing, similar to the last piece to a nearly finished puzzle, the one that had made everything click into place.

You'd gotten used to his warmth, the way his body seemed to fit against yours so perfectly, the steady beat of his heart slowly lulling you to sleep every night without fail. Being in his arms made you feel safe, loved, and wanted. With each breath, each beat of his heart, you felt your mind grow quiet and your body relax, as if each hum of his heart was him whispering "i love you' over and over.

You knew him going on this brand deal trip had been a good idea for the channel, and you knew that it had already been planned months in advance, but missing him was hard, and missing him was painful. It was only supposed to be a few days now, but each one seemed to drag on longer than the last and it made you relentlessly question if the clock was against you, if time moved slower than it actually did.

Just the night before he had left, his arms had been curled around you and you had been resting on top of his chest, his fingers combing through your hair. Everything had been perfect, everything had felt complete. But tonight, you were alone, and it felt like the quiet of the room echoed louder than it should.

Your day at work had been a full-on nightmare—endless tasks, long hours, all of it seemed to last forever. Every email you had sent felt as if it was another weight added onto your shoulders, and every conversation felt like it had drained every ounce of energy from you. Even now, the fluorescent lights of the office still lingered in your eyes, making your head throb with a dull ache.

Usually, you would come home to Chris, the soft sound of his voice greeting you, followed by his arms pulling you into a warm embrace. He would hold you close, put on a random film and snuggle into you, his hands always wandering to your thighs. He would rub his palms on them, cursing at how soft your skin was while smiling at you, and with that, he would lean in to kiss your forehead as you would drift off.

But tonight was different. The apartment was cold without him, the sheets of your shared bed empty and frigid.

With a sigh, you pick up your phone, swiping up to enter your password.

Your thumb hovers over Chris' name in your contacts; needing to hear his voice, needing him to somehow fill the empty space in your chest, the same emptiness lingering throughout the entire apartment.

Without thinking too much, you press call.

The phone rings only twice before Chris picks up and upon the first word he speaks, you can hear the smile in his voice, immediately warm and familiar.

"Hey, sweetheart, wasn't expecting you to call so early, what's up?"

Sinking into your bed, you let out a heavy sigh, letting your gaze drift upward to the ceiling fan, its quiet hum the only other noise in your quiet apartment.

"Hey," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, the word catching in your throat. You clear your throat, trying to dislodge the lump that's formed there, and continue, "I needed to hear your voice, I miss you."

As the words leave your lips, you feel a slight tremble in your voice, something that your boyfriend, Chris would never dare to let slide.

There's a pause on the other end, and when he speaks again, his tone is softer, full of concern. "I miss you too, you alright, baby?"

You nod, even though he can’t see it, your eyes fluttering shut as you take in his warm voice. "Just… it’s been a rough day," you admit, curling into your blanket. "I can’t stop thinking about you, Chris. It’s so hard without you here."

You hear him chuckle from the other side of the phone, his voice still soft and concerned, "I wish I could be there with you right now. You know I’d make it all better, right?"

"I know," you murmur, your lips pursing. "I just miss everything about you. I miss your arms around me, I miss your smell."

He lets out a light, teasing laugh, cutting out slightly over the phone as he inhales afterward. "My smell, huh? Really, ma? You miss the way I smell?" He chuckles his laugh sweet, "You sure it’s not just my cologne you’re missing?"

You shake your head as he talks, sitting up and propping your back against your headboard, a smile finding its way onto your face. "No," you say pausing as you try to sound serious, "It's you. It's just you."

You smile as Chris lets out another laugh, his voice playful, "Well, well, aren’t you the romantic." He pauses, letting out another soft giggle. "You must really be going crazy without me, huh? Can’t even sleep without my scent on your pillow."

Without thinking you laugh, slapping your hand down onto your comforter as you giggle, "Shut up, it's not funny!"

"It’s a little funny," he teases, his voice husky. "There's that laugh I love," he murmurs.

His words settle in your chest, and a warmth spreading through you. "You’re ridiculous," the smile tugging at your lips as you talk. "But I missed you, I missed you so much."

"I know, baby, I miss you too," he murmurs, chuckling. "Maybe I should become a therapist, I should start charging you for daily sessions with how fast I brought that smile back."

You roll your eyes as you let out another small laugh, raising an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? What's the payment plan like? Not sure I can afford daily, maybe weekly."

"Depends," Chris pauses and there's a silence on the other end of the phone.

After a few seconds, a low chuckle leaves his lips. "You offering cash, or are we talking.. other forms of payment?"

You smile, licking your lips and leaning your head back to rest against the headboard. "Wow, so nasty of you to be talking like this when your brothers are god knows where."

You hear rustling for a moment over the phone before you hear Chris chuckle again, the sound absolutely adorable. "I may be a little dirty, but I'm still a gentleman," He whispers, his voice like velvet even despite the crackles of the air in the background as he speaks.

You can almost hear the heat in his voice and it burns you even through all of the distance, leaving tingles on your body as he continues, "Matt and Nick went out, some stupid costume store for a video idea. They're going to be gone for a while, and I have to admit, I'm kind of glad."

His voice drops to a low, husky tone, sending shivers down your spine. "I was thinking about you baby, and I couldn't focus on anything else."

You feel a warm blush rise to your cheeks as you hear his words through the phone, your pulse beating faster, so loud you can nearly hear it through your ears. "What were you thinking about?" You ask curiously, soft grin reaches your face and your hands begin to toy with themselves as you lay the phone on your lap to listen.

"I was thinking about how your breath hitches when I do that thing with my tongue, and how your fingers would dig into my back when I do that thing with my hands."

"How your back arches when I fuck you," He pauses, his voice exasperated. "When I tell you to keep looking me in the eyes while you take my cock in that dripping pussy of yours."

His words leave you breathless and full of desire. You can feel your face burning with heat, your nipples hardening against the fabric of your top with every word he speaks, as if his words are urging you to want him even more than you already do.

"Chris..." You whisper, his name barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breathing.

"Yeah, baby?"

"I want you," you finally manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I want you so bad, Chris."

"I want you, let me see you, baby," You hear him lick his lips, his breathing just as loud as yours. Turn on your camera, can I see your pretty face?"

You smile, pressing the familiar FaceTime button, and as the camera flickers to life, you adjust yourself to fit in frame, the soft light from your room casting a glow over your features, putting them on full display for him.

Chris' camera flutters to life soon after, you see him in the corner of the screen.

The first thing you notice is his hair, tousled and messy as if he's been running his fingers through it out of habit. The soft lights of his hotel room and the sunset outside of his window catch faint golden undertones onto his skin, making him look like an absolute dream.

His jawline catches the light when he shifts slightly to look closer at you, the shadow of his stubble visible to you as a grin forms at the corners of his mouth, a grin that's just for you.

He looks absolutely perfect, in fact, you weren't even sure how a person could manage to look that good during every second of the day until you had met him.

The most amazing part? He was all yours.

His voice pulls you back to reality, warm and teasing. "See something you like, or are you just gonna keep staring, baby?"

You roll your eyes, though the blush creeping up your neck betrays you. "Oh, please," you tease. "You’re the one who wanted to see me."

Chris leans a little closer to his screen, his piercing blue eyes sharpening as he takes you all in. His eyes travel over your frame, lingering for a moment before his lips part slightly, his voice dropping just a bit. "I mean, can you blame me? Look at you."

His eyes trail over you slowly, and then he pauses, his lips curling into a smirk. "Wait a second... Is that my shirt?"

You glance down, your fingers instinctively brushing over the soft fabric, the only thing you were wearing a side from your underwear, "What if it is?" you ask, arching a brow, trying to sound casual despite the sudden flutter of your pulse in your chest.

His laughter comes easy, warm and deep. "You’re unbelievable," he mutters, but there’s something softer behind his tone. "I was wondering where that went."

Relaxing a bit, Chris leans back slightly, running a hand through his hair, but his gaze never leaves you. When he speaks again his voice is soft but teasing, "You know, you wearing my shirt like that? It's not fair."

"Fair?" you repeat, tilting your head with a playful smile. "What’s not fair about it?"

Chris sighs, tugging at his hair,"The fact that I’m sitting here wishing I could take it off you myself."

"Maybe if you were here, I’d let you," you murmur, your eyes locked onto his.

"Don’t tease me like that, baby." You watch as his tongue licks around his lips, his eyes laced with desire, "You know I’d do it in a heartbeat."

"Who’s teasing?" you reply softly, your fingers toying with the hem of the shirt. There’s a moment of silence, charged with electricity, before you meet his gaze again. "What if I took it off right now?"

Chris’s breath hitches audibly, his confidence momentarily faltering as his eyes darken. "Don’t say that if you don’t mean it," he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

Adrenaline and desire course through you as you slowly lift the hem of the shirt, just enough to tease him, right below your breasts, allowing them to peek out, just a little bit. His reaction is immediate—his eyes are glued to the screen, his jaw falling open as he takes in the sight of you. .

"Your turn," you say softly, smiling as you tease him. Your hands reach up to rub at your tits, the hem just covering your nipples.

Within an instant, Chris shuffles slightly letting the camera fall to the side of the bed. You hear the sound of fabric sliding against his skin and a moment later, he picks up the phone resting it on top of his stomach, one of his arms behind his head as he props it up to see you rubbing your tits for him.

Suddenly, he angles the camera even further down, revealing a very obvious bulge in his boxers. His boxers are tight against his cock and you feel yourself nearly drool as the outline of his hard dick is directly on display in front of you, straining against the fabric.

You watch as his fingers trail over the waistband of his boxers, teasing you just as much as you’ve been teasing him. He’s still staring at you, waiting for your next move.

Your hands move instinctively, pulling your shirt off, your tits falling out from underneath his shirt. You reach over, letting it fall to the side of the bed as you arch your back slightly, giving him a better view, as your fingertips trail across your bare chest. His eyes seem to devour you from the screen, and you know he’s getting just as impatient as you are.

You drag your fingers down your body, feeling the slight shiver of anticipation in your fingertips. The way his eyes stay locked on you makes your pulse race faster, a part of you already craving him even more. You glance, making sure he’s watching as your hand moves lower, slipping down to rub against your thighs, just as he would if he were with you.

His breath hitches as you continue rubbing yourself, the sound of his voice a low growl in your ears, even with the static from the call.

"God, you're so fucking beautiful."

His breath is hoarse as you see his hand slide down his body, down his abs as he rubs them for you through the phone, just as you would.

"I want you to take those panties off, please baby. Let me see all of you."

His words stir something deep inside you, and without thinking twice, you push your pants down, dragging them past your thighs, over your hips. Your heart races as you make sure he’s watching, feeling the weight of his gaze as you slowly expose yourself to him, piece by piece, just like a puzzle.

His eyes glisten as he watches you take them off, his mouth open, full of drool as you open your legs for him, placing the camera directly in front of your pussy.

"God, fuck. You're so fucking wet."

His words send shivers down your spine as you feel your body heat up, the anticipation of what's to come making your heart race. You watch him on the screen, his hand still rubbing his abs, his eyes locked on the camera pointed at your pussy.

"I want you to touch yourself, show me how much you want me," he murmurs as his hands slide further down his body. He smiles, angling the camera right below his bulge as he begins to rub on his v-line.

With instinct, your right hand slides up your body slowly. Your hands slide against your thighs, your stomach, all the way up to your mouth where you silently spit into your hand.

Your hand slides back down your body, your fingertips brushing against your needy clit, so wet and so wanting.

"Wish I was there, my god.. I would spit in that beautiful mouth and make you use that to rub yourself," he murmurs. Your eyes stay trained on his and on his body as he slides his boxers down, his cock springing out from under them.

His words are like a drug to you, making you even more aroused. You moan into the phone, your breath coming in short gasps. Your eyes follow his cock as he spits onto his hand in the same way, his hand sliding to hold the base of his cock.

With a small chuckle, he positions his phone to be right below it. You can see how big he is, how thick he is. He smiles, leaning his cock forward gently to tap it directly onto the camera.

The head of his cock hits the camera with a loud thud three times, you can hear how hard he is.

"Do you like what you see, baby?" he asks, his voice low and seductive as his cock stands straight up, his fingers beginning to slowly stroke against his rigid shaft.

“Do you like it when I slap this dick on this camera for you, just like how I should be slapping it against your clit while I make you cum for me with my fingers.”

He continues to tease you, slowly stroking his cock as he talks dirty to you. "I bet you wish you were here with me, don't you? Feeling my hot cum on your tongue."

His words cause you to rub your clit even faster, your hands diving into your wet folds as you watch him stroke himself.

He leans in closer to the camera, his cock just inches from the lens.

"Mmm, you're such a dirty girl, aren't you?"

He moans, biting on his lips as he watches you pleasure yourself to him. "You love watching me jerk off over the phone for you, don't you?"

He gives a slight thrust of his hips, his cock twitching in his hand. "I bet you'd love to taste it, wouldn't you? To have my cock in your mouth, down your throat, choking on it as I fuck your face."

You moan, murmuring yes a thousand times as you rub your puffy wet pussy for him, your breath hitching every second with just how good he makes you feel.

"Take your fingers and slide them into your wet pussy, baby," he moans out, his hand working magic on his cock as he strokes it even faster for you.

You can see so much precum, so much of his spit running down the sides of it with every stroke he makes. You can't help but wish that it was your spit, that his precum was deep down your throat, and looking at him, that's all you can think about.

You wish you could run your tongue against the shaft of his dick, you wish his hand could be replaced with yours. You wish it was your mouth he was fucking into instead of his hand, wishing that it was your pussy making him feel that divine.

He groans as he sees you slide your fingers inside of your pussy, smiling with his tongue over his teeth as he sees you begin to finger yourself.

You moan softly, arching your back as you push your fingers deeper into your wetness. You glance down at the phone, watching his eyes follow your every move. You can see the lust in his gaze, the desire to be with you right now.

"Oh fuck," he breathes, his voice thick with need. "I wish I was there with you."

The tip of his cock swells, his shaft hard and rigid, just aching for you, and his hand immediately picks up the pace on his cock as he imagines that your fingers inside of you is his cock instead, fucking you so deep.

"I want to fuck you so bad," he whispers, voice strained with desire. "I want to feel your tight pussy wrapped around my cock, milking me dry."

He groans, his hips thrusting forward as if he could push his cock through the screen and into you, if only it were that simple.

"I want to breed you," he whispers, his voice thick with desire as he pumps his cock with his hand, stroking it so good for you. "I want to fill your pretty pussy with my cum and make a baby with you."

“tell me you want that”

You gasp, your fingers only moving faster at the mention of having his cum inside of you, spilling out onto your thighs. "Oh god, yes Chris, I want you to breed me.” you moan, slipping your fingers out of your warmth to rub at your swollen clit again in large circles.

You can hear him taking deep breaths on the other end of the line, trying to control his voice from faltering as he rapidly strokes his cock for you. "I wish I was there with you," he says again, his voice strained.

"I would cum inside you, I would cum in you and then I would finger that pussy and rub it all over that wet clit," he moans in the middle of his talking, his voice coming out as if it was meant to be a whine.

You can feel your orgasm building, your fingers moving faster and faster on your clit as you moan louder. You moan, reaching your other hand down to finger yourself at the same exact time, "Oh god, I'm going to come, Chris please come with me," you gasp, your voice breaking.

It's as if you can almost feel him with you, his hands on your thighs holding them for you as he watches you come undone.

“No, slut. Hold it for me,” he coos suddenly.

You gasp out exasperated, your mouth quivering as you slow down your pace, trying to hold yourself together. You want to come so bad for Chris, you want to soak your sheets and scream out his name.

But he won’t let you.

You look at him pleadingly, he can see you so exposed so vulnerable as you look at him, pleading with your eyes.

“Aw, does my baby want to cum for me?” Chris’ voice is soft, as he spits into his hand, his hand slimy and wet as he slides it back onto his cock, rubbing it so fast for you.

You can hear him grunt as he urges you to continue, “I didn’t tell you to slow down. Rub that pussy, now.”

Obeying, your hands find your clit again and you rub your wetness in circles, his eyes never leaving you, moving from your cunt to your face to your tits and back again.

Your legs shake as your movements urge you closer to release, your pussy clenching, begging for his cock inside of you.

Chris nods at you, his voice whiney, “Oh fuck, ma. Oh god, put your fingers back in there for me.”

You whimper as your fingers enter you once again. Staring at his cock, you imagine that instead, it’s him entering you. Chris fucking your pussy so good, Chris in front of you pounding you into the bed.

He lets out a moan, his cock making you salivate and his noises driving you insane with how badly you crave him.

Within an instant, Chris can’t seem to hold himself anymore and instead of denying you like he loves, he’s too close to make you beg anymore.

"Come for me baby," he groans, struggling to keep his eyes open to look at you. "Come all over your pretty hands for me, yes.. God yes."

“Please, Chris,” you whimper, your voice pleading, desperate to come with him, “I need you… I need to feel you.."

"Show me how much you need me, do it slut," he moans, stroking faster. "Show me baby, let me watch you."

Chris leans forward, his lips parted as he breathes your name, his hand still gripping the phone tightly, positioning it so he can see you, and you can see him.

You move your fingers faster, harder, needing that release more than anything else. You hear him do the same, his hand moving faster, each stroke pushing him closer to his ownrelease.

"Come on, baby," he urges, his voice a low growl. "Let go for me. I want to see you fall apart, tell me you want my come.”

“I want you to come, Chris. Please come for me,” you murmur as your body starts to convulse.

You feel your whole body tense with his words, your back arching as the pleasure rips through you, your hands nearly dropping the phone as you finally come for him.

You're lost in the moment, unable to think, unable to do anything but gasp for air, your hand still between your legs as your body quivers, waiting and watching for Chris to come for you.

As promised, Chris follows right behind you, his moans louder than before, and you can hear the sound of him finishing, his voice raw with release and raw with pleasure. You watch as his come drips from the tip of his cock, begging to be licked up.

On the other end of the screen, Chris collapses back onto his bed, laying fully down, his face flushed and his hair messy, his cum all over his stomach.

"Well… that was definitely worth the wait," he murmurs, his voice warm and affectionate. "God, I wish I could kiss you, baby."

You smile to yourself, your heart fluttering at his words. "I wish you could too, Chris," you whisper back, "Come back soon, I'm dying without you here."

"Just a few more days, my love. I promise." He smiles, messing with his hair as he smiles at you. "And when I get back, I’ll take you out, wherever you want to go. Maybe a fancy dinner… or," he pauses, giving you a sly grin, "we could go somewhere more fun, like an amusement park. Y'know, so I can win you a giant teddy bear."

You can’t help but laugh at the image of him winning you a stuffed animal, and you playfully roll your eyes. "An amusement park? Really?" you tease, "You’re gonna win me a stuffed bear?"

"Yeah, absolutely. I’ll win you the biggest one, just so you can carry it around everywhere and make everyone jealous." His smile widens, a grin too big for his face. "And then, we’ll ride all the roller coasters, just to make sure you’re holding onto me the whole time."

He chuckles, throwing his head back at his own remarks.

He makes a soft kiss sound as he continues,"hey, I’m just trying to make sure you don’t fly off the ride. Somebody’s gotta keep you safe, right?" You roll your eyes, smiling at how adorable he is.

"And I think you’d be holding onto me for more reasons than just the ride."

You raise an eyebrow, your heart racing a little as you grin back at him. "Is that so?" you tease a serious undertone to your voice. "Well, maybe I’ll just hold on tight to you then, but only if you win me that bear."

"I'm gonna win you the biggest damn bear you've ever seen."

i love my cutie endings, thank you so much for reading!

as always sorry for any writing mistakes!

if anyone has any requests and likes my style of writing, please please lmk! I have lot of free time and am trying to come up with more ideas for scenarios ♡

.ೃ࿐ rafe smut "gods & monsters" otw!

ೃ࿐ chratt fics upcoming

[caitified]

okok hear me out pls. paige bueckers x reader wife where in r is pregnant and is due any day now but paige is still on an away game.

after paige’s win she was interviewed and was asked about when will the baby arrive. she says in the camera to “hold it in”. this was honestly based off of diana taurasi’s interview iykyk. hoping you could give this one a try. i’ve been longing for paige’s family series plssss thank u so much!

DUE DATE

PAIGE BUECKERS X FAMILY READER

comments: i have so many people asking about paige’s family , so sorry for it being on the back burner but keep the requests coming. and dt interview is elite.

warnings:none.

it had been a long, tense few days for both of you. paige was away for a game, and you, feeling the weight of pregnancy’s final stretch, were stuck at home, your body aching more and more as each hour passed. your due date was fast approaching, and every minute you felt like this could be the moment when your water would break, when the baby would finally make their grand entrance. you had never felt so much anticipation, but you had also never felt so alone in the waiting.

paige, on the other hand, had her game to focus on. she was playing her heart out, doing what she does best—putting on a show, leading her team, and pushing through any pain of her own to make sure her team came out victorious. you knew how much this game meant to her, how much her role on the court had become a part of her identity, and you were proud of her. but that didn’t make the ache of her absence any easier. you are in constant fear that the baby will come sooner than paige can get back to you.

when you checked your phone, there was a message from paige that made your heart skip a beat.

“hey babe, i miss you. how’s everything? can’t wait to see you soon 💙”

you smiled at the message, clutching your phone to your chest. she was on your mind every second of the day, and you could only imagine how hard it was for her to be so far away, knowing that you were on the verge of giving birth to her child.

just as you were about to respond, you saw a notification that made your heart flutter—a notification for the post-game interview. paige had just helped her team win, and now she was standing in front of the cameras, looking stunning, as usual. but what really caught your attention was the question they asked her.

“so, paige, your wife is pregnant and due any day now. do you have any updates? is she still holding up okay?”

paige smiled into the camera, her eyes sparkling despite the exhaustion from the game. and then, in a moment of pure humor and relief from the tension she was feeling, she did something you never expected.

“hold it in,” paige said with a wink, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “just a few more days, alright?”

the reporters laughed, some of them clearly taken aback by her humour, but everyone could see the love in her eyes. she was still thinking of you, despite everything, and that small gesture made your heart swell. paige always knew how to make you laugh, how to ease the tension, even when it felt like everything was about to fall apart.

you laughed softly, knowing exactly what she meant. it wasn’t just about the baby holding out a little longer; it was about the balance she found between everything she had to juggle—the game, her career, and the life you two were building together.

as soon as the interview ended, you texted her back,

“trying my best p, but you need to get your ass back here”

a few moments passed, and then your phone buzzed. paige’s response came through immediately, her tone light but full of that familiar warmth you always cherished.

“ i’ll be there as fast as i can. i need to be there for you, baby. just a little longer, okay?”

you smiled, the anxiety of the moment easing, knowing that paige was thinking of you, even in the midst of a victory. it wasn’t just the game that made her perfect for you—it was moments like this, when she made you feel like everything would be okay, even when things were uncertain.

just a little longer, you thought, glancing down at your belly. and with paige’s words echoing in your mind, you settled into bed that night, feeling the soft kicks of the baby inside you, knowing that soon, everything would change, and you’d finally be able to welcome your little one into the world.

thanks for reading, i can do the next day when she’s home if you’d like.

[miruscenic]

𝟎𝟎𝟏. 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐍.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬. kento never thought he would be one for domesticity, until you came.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭. nanami kento x gn!reader, soft soft fluff, a bit of angst on kento's part, first writing post on this blog :)) enjoy !!

Kento Nanami has a hard time believing that domesticity was a possibility for him. 

It was his pipe dream ever since he’d chosen to become a sorcerer, despite his aversion to both this job and the soul-breaking desk job. He hates the monotony, and he hates the danger he puts himself in, and he despises the concept of overtime. Because, really, who enjoys working more hours with no increase to the pay? It irks him terribly, but work is work. If he can find stability in the form of money or a career, then it was enough to keep him alive.

It was enough, but it didn’t satisfy him.

He’s come to enjoy some of the mundanely comforting moments during his salaryman days and his gradual return to the Jujutsu world— from the sweet girl manning the counter in his favorite bakery, who knows him well enough that his sandwich is finished being prepared within minutes to the silence he basks in until he inevitably has to stare blearily at his laptop screen during ungodly hours. They were welcome distractions from the emptiness he so often felt, and yet, it still felt like he was going through the motions.

Kento had money, but no means of defining his purpose. His desires of settling down pushed to the backburner, dreams of a golden-eyed child crushed by surrounding deaths and lecherous bosses who saw him as nothing more than a cog of a bigger machine. The only sign of the life he could’ve given himself were the books slowly gathering dust, pictures of the calming beaches of Kuantan a stark contrast to the rigidness of his home.

He didn’t understand how easy it was to let someone in. Someone like you, of all people. More importantly, he didn’t realize just how fearful it made him, now that he’d returned to his life of jujutsu sorcery. 

Looking forward to you was jarring, at first—it took Kento a while to get used to not doing everything alone. Though there wasn’t anything he could complain about being by himself—it was his preferred way of life, in the first place—it did start to feel like this was all he would ever do until the light blonde of his hair turned gray. 

But now, he’s making stops at places he never thought he would visit so casually. He’d made a note to get your lunch from the resto you came to during your first date, snagging your favorite drink from the cafe and almost risking his daily commute on the train. Kento was a man with limitations, but he found himself so pleasantly amused when he ran errands for you. It felt like something he would willingly do rather than come home battered and with a gash in his newly dry-cleaned shirt. 

But even that was a part of his life that you gradually took over. Frequent dates turned into visits to each other’s home, then those sporadic visits turned into sleepovers, often falling into a deep slumber after indulging yourselves in meaningful heart-to-hearts. That would soon culminate into calm knocks on your door one night only to reveal Kento practically limping and his side mangled. 

He felt a lump in his throat then, at the look of horror on your usually pleasant face, but he knew he felt like tearing up when you’d been so gentle with his wounds, inquiring him about what went wrong. It didn’t feel correct to answer your question; what happened to him was out of your awareness, the dangers of his job was a secret until it wasn’t. How was he supposed to explain that a humanoid manifestation of humanity’s hatred for each other—a rather ugly one, to be certain—was very close to ending his life, and how incredibly lucky he was to even manage to limp back to you?

Never mind the hatred simmering in Kento’s chest, not when he was too caught off guard by your generosity to even air out his grievances. All that mattered was that he still had you, time to get to know and love you better. He knew he wouldn’t be able to rest easy knowing he’s left you confused and grieving. 

“Just so you know, I wouldn’t have a problem with crawling back to you if I was more injured than this.” He’d murmured once you were close enough to feel his breath fan against your chin. To this day, Kento isn’t sure what prompted him to be so sentimental, all he knew was that he had all the right reasons to lean in and leave a light peck on your lips right after.

Nothing could’ve really prepared him for the following morning, after a night of endless persistence that he could take the latest train back home. 

Kento was more used to bringing his own things when you ask him to stay over, but waking up in the foreign but cozy texture of one of your shirts and a pair of faded sweatpants wasn’t something to complain about. He’d felt his heartbeat spike at the thought of running late to work, but the slight dimness of the room suggested that he’d woken up a bit after dawn broke. 

The firmness of the bandages around his torso paired with the mild soreness of his wounds weren’t exactly the most comfortable, but Kento had managed to pull himself out of his sleeping situation groggily, pushing the door open. He was starting to wonder where you’d gone, despite his prior knowledge of your own early bird tendencies. It instantly warmed his heart to see you bathed in brighter morning light, quietly watching the coffee maker. In his peripherals, he could see his formerly bloodied suit neatly folded on the couch.

At this point, it wasn’t uncommon for the both of you to start your mornings steadily, though there was something different about this particular one. Stillness fell upon your home, with neither of you showing signs of hurrying just yet.The only audible sounds were the whirs of the coffee maker, followed by Kento beelining towards your direction. You looked lovely, with your head perched on your arms, bent down to be at eye level with the machine.

Kento could only huff out an amused sigh, letting one of his hands rest upon your shoulder as an indicator that he was finally awake. Instead of the usual shock that graced your features, it felt as though you were indulging in the light touch. Slowly but surely, you’re leaning back up to rest your back against his chest, your smaller hand wrapping around his that was still perched on your shoulder. 

The weight was so, so comforting, especially when you’d leaned your head against his shoulder, a toothy smile on your lips. Kento thinks you look rather adorable upside-down, he couldn’t help but leave another affectionate kiss on your forehead when you’d whispered, “Good morning, Ken.”

Now the man was completely left unguarded, with a lovely little thing resting against him and the sunlight softly filtering in through the windows. He doesn’t dare pull away, only brings you to face him instead so you’re more comfortable. Perhaps this was growth—he wasn’t irked by the prospect of slowing down with a companion anymore, despite the deep-seated fear of having so much to lose. 

But he could get used to this. A time when he could just bask in his more human side without worrying about work or death, a time when he could just let himself be without the need to explain himself. Because you understood him, you were willing to understand him from the very beginning. All this was possible, because he believed that something good would come out of letting someone like you in.

Kento decides that he likes this sensation and, for once, he would like for it to stay.  

I’m quite good at being domestic and romantic, don’t you think, darling? 

brought to you by MIRUSCENIC © 2025. all rights reserved.

[tarotsoul]

ghost in the wind — part four

summary: struggling to get a grip on your newfound power, azriel is the only one your magic allows close. and there’s no stopping either of you when you spend the night alone together.

warnings: grieving, mentions of death, swearing, kissing, teasing, fingering, dirty talk, shadow play (hehe)

word count: 6.7k

series masterlist

Lucien Vanserra knew not to question his mate when she demanded they left for Velaris immediately. Two days of travelling. He had not asked questions—had not doubted his mate’s worry and vision, not even for a moment. 

Elain saw the blast before it occurred. She felt the earth quake beneath her feet, felt the soil and life around her stand still. A power had been awoken. A power so fierce it had shook the lands of even the Day Court. 

She had known of your presence in Prythian. Feyre had sent word to her, promised it had been nothing to worry about, that Nesta had taken you away from Rafe and that you were finally safe. 

Safe. 

That feeling in her stomach promised anything but safety. Two days of travelling. Two days of no rest. And despite her seering abilities, despite the far future she had already glimpsed, nothing could have prepared her for what greeted her arrival.

While Velaris remained as beautiful as ever, as busy and bustling as it had before she and Lucien left to travel just over a year ago…there was nothing but desolation in the air. Every breath was hard to inhale, every step on cobblestones and patchy soil a struggle to walk. 

Something was very, very wrong. 

Those suspicions were confirmed the moment she stepped foot into the River House. An eerie silence settled as soon as she passed the threshold of her High Lord and Lady’s home. Lucien could sense it, too. The hairs on the back of his neck spiked the further he walked through the grand abode. 

Rhysand met them in the foyer, a grave and wanton look to his handsome features. Elain did not apologise as she pushed past him and made for her two sisters. Both stricken with tears and pure dread. Elain struggled to loose a breath, struggled to come to terms with the energy that invaded her. 

“I came as soon as I felt it.” 

Feyre met her gaze, eyes lined with grief. Elain took a step closer. “Where is she?”

Nesta sniffled, raised her head and kept her chin high. But Elain knew her sister, knew she was close to crumbling all over again. She could not speak, could not open her mouth in fear of what animalistic cry might break through. 

Feyre spoke instead. “She’s upstairs, Azriel will not leave her side.” 

Azriel, yes. Elain had seen those visions, too. 

A question rose on the tip of her tongue, one she never considered she’d ever have to ask. She felt Lucien’s presence as he neared, a comforting hand reaching to caress her arm in comfort. She melted into it, though unlike usual, he was not able to settle the dread in her chest. 

“Her heart stopped beating after the blast,” Rhysand spoke softly as he entered the room, reaching for his mate. “However, Madja believes her soul is still in her body. She thinks Y/N is still fighting, despite all else suggesting otherwise.” 

Elain blinked back her tears. It was never supposed to have gone this way. You were never supposed to have died. 

“Madja is looking into some remedies, into the history of your mothers bloodline. For now, all we can do is wait. She has taken samples of blood and hair from Nesta and Feyre, there are no magical markers that match with Y/N’s, though if you’re willing, we’d like to test yours, just to be safe.”

Elain allowed her head to dip in acceptance, though the movement was completely subconscious. This would not be the end of you. Could not be the end. Not after everything Elain had peeked in the future. 

Azriel had not left your side in two days. The moment the blast settled, he shot through the skies to reach you. He did not expect to find that stone mountain covered in soil and tulips.  He did not expect to find your cold, lifeless body collapsed above the rubble.

He had never felt such fear, such despair. And the moment you were laid in his bed, in his room at the River House, he had not left your side. Not for food, water or rest. Not for anything. 

He stayed when Madja came to assess you, when she took samples of your blood and hair, when she smoothed a salve over the marred skin of the crescent moon on your chest. He stayed when Mor came to brush your hair and paint your fingernails. He stayed when Nesta came to read to you, when Feyre laid beside you and prayed. 

He could not leave that room, could not leave your side. 

And when Madja had returned that morning, with a hopeful gleam in her eye that she may have found something to help, he still would not allow himself to hope. 

Fear crippled every ounce of his being. Fear of speaking his hopes into existence, that the mother could be cruel to deny him. So he kept his hope buried deep. So deep that his soul latched onto it and called out to you. 

The taste of your lips still lingered on his, your scent still wrapped around him. But Azriel could not bring himself to touch you, could not dare a feel of your cold skin. Your heart had stopped beating, your chest had stopped rising. 

But he would not allow the idea of your death to linger in his mind. He could feel you, somehow, somewhere. And deep in his soul, he begged for you to hold on, to use whatever power you had to come back.

A gentle knock sounded on the bedroom door, Azriel did not need to turn to know it was Elain. Though he could not scent Lucien beside her. 

She moved like a gentle breeze, every step light and hesitant. He knew how hard it had been for everyone, for your cousins. He wanted to allow Elain a moment alone with you, as he wanted with the others, but just as before, his soul would not allow his leave. 

“Hello, Elain.”

His voice, so cold and distant. It had been a long time since he had addressed her in such a tone. She bowed her head in greeting and took a seat on the other side of your bed. He didn’t watch her, neither did his shadows. Both he and those wisps of darkness fixated on your unmoving body. 

Elain reached for your hand, a breath parting from her pink lips. “She’s cold.”

Azriel closed his eyes, tried to shut out the anguish he wanted to cry. He remained in silence, so did Elain. They sat unmoving, watching you. 

Until Elain spoke again. 

“I have seen a field of tulips. Where the air is fresh and the soil is rich.” Always speaking in cryptic words, nothing ever as simple as it should be. “I have seen what lay beyond the forest. There is a promise of something stronger than I have ever felt. Something soul-binding.” 

Elain did not look at Azriel as she spoke, she did not take her eyes away from you. Uncurling your hand, she placed three seeds in your palm and then curled it shut tight, her fist caressing yours. 

“Did you know that green tulips symbolise hope and rebirth?” She turned to him then, her face void of any emotion. “Brown tulips symbolise resilience and commitment.” Her eyes wandered to Azriel’s scarred hands that sat in his lap.

He watched the middle Archeron for a moment, his mind processing the words she spoke. He watched her gaze travel to your spare hand, the one that seemed to reach for him, palm open in invitation. 

His mind screamed not to touch you, not to hurt his heart like that. But his soul. His soul ached to feel you once more. 

Against his better judgement, he allowed a shaky hand to reach yours—skin cold and lifeless as he held you again. Azriel bit back a cry, willed the tears not to fall. His shadows followed their masters lead, snaking around your fingers and wrist and up your arms. 

Elain removed her hand, her eyes fixated on your fist of seeds. It was then that she opened your palm, and right before their eyes, the seeds bloomed into tulips. One green, one brown, one white. And your chest heaved its first breath in two days. 

Time stopped, Azriel froze. 

And your eyes blinked open. 

The air kissed your skin in a way you had never experienced before. The green of the grass was more vibrant than ever, the fluttering of a robin's wings like music to your ears. The river flowed softly, a hum of a sweet lullaby that soothed your soul. 

This is what it was supposed to feel like. The power, the magic. Was this how you were destined to live? To be one with the earth and feel its life beneath your feet? 

You felt their eyes on you from feet away, felt the way they itched to approach, to hold and soothe you. Elain had been the one to keep everyone back, to allow you a moment to breathe again. 

You felt no pain, no sorrow. 

They had followed you out of the River House and toward the embankment, allowed you a moment to let your magic flow. A sweet relief, to touch the soil and watch the buds of flora bloom. 

Though, you had no control. You did not wield your power to plant in the soil, you did not ask for lily pads to perch on the gentle waters surface. You had no control, but you would. You would find a way to harness it, to wield it. 

Another breath, your final moment alone. You turned to the others, to their hopeful faces and a smile began to stretch across your lips. 

Cassian was the first one to grin, the first one to step forward to join you. But his sudden movement startled something in your gut. And a root of sharp thorns shot from the soil and dared to pierce through Cassian’s brown skin. 

He jumped back, eyes wide and your lips parted in shock. You had not meant to do that, had no thought to hurt Cassian. Your magic acted on impulse, to protect you. 

He stepped back again, hands in the air in surrender. Rhysand watched with a tilted gaze, watched when the vine of thorns sunk back into the ground. 

So your magic would not allow others to approach you uninvited. Perhaps if you approached them instead. 

Your steps were slow, cautious. You held your breath in an attempt to hold down the power that begged to course through your veins. 

You dared another look at your friends. 

“It’s okay,” Mor smiled. “Take your time.” 

Another deep breath, another step. One foot in front of the other, your teeth gritting to keep the power at bay. Three feet away from them, you took another deep breath. This time to calm your racing heart. 

“I have no control over it.” 

Rhysand offered a gentle smile. “That’s to be expected. How do you feel?” 

Your eyes flittered between them all, lingering a moment too long on Azriel before you gazed at the world around you. A tilt upturned your lips. 

“I feel like I can finally breathe. I can feel everything in the soil. It’s like the trees are whispering to me, like the birds are singing.”

You looked back to Rhys, to Feyre. “How am I even alive?” 

Feyre dared a step closer, and you willed your power to understand she would not harm you. None of them would. 

“Madja is looking into it. For now, you need to take it easy. The smallest thing could make your power spiral or act out.” She looked between her family, returning her gaze to you. 

“Perhaps it would be best if only one of us remained by your side, for now. Maybe we can test to see who your magic doesn’t see as a threat.” 

“Well clearly I’m out of the picture,” Cassian mumbled, scuffing his feet against the grass. 

You considered Feyre’s suggestion, perhaps it would be the safest way for now. One step would be enough to see if your power responded, one step enough to create distance just in case. 

“Okay, yeah let’s do that.” 

Feyre took a step first, hesitant but with a gentle and excited smile. Her emotions were palpable, you could feel the relief that you were alive, the excitement of the prospect of you having a newfound strength. 

No one could ever take advantage of you again. 

But your power did not allow Feyre another step closer. It wrapped vines around her ankles, keeping her in place. She did not move, her calmness did not falter. You pinched your eyes shut, begged and pleaded for your magic to release her. 

And after a few moments, it did. 

Feyre returned to her previous position, and Rhysand cleared his throat as he took his turn. 

Your power did not allow him closer. It did not allow Mor, or Elain. Nor Lucien or Nesta. It left only Azriel. And your heart thudded wildly in your chest. 

You met his molten gaze, and you could feel the taste of his lips on yours again. Azriel did not move to begin with, he instead sent a lone shadow to reach you slowly. 

Your magic flickered, but it did not attack. When the shadow weaved through your hair, daisies sprouted in their wake. You didn’t notice Azriel step closer, did not notice until the toes of his boots were just a foot from you and you finally met his gaze again. 

Your breathing hitched, throat tightening. Something stirred in your gut, a simmering feeling of relief and comfort and something you felt far too often in your life. 

Shame. 

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “You don’t have to hold it back if it’s too much.” 

You blinked, only now realising that you didn’t need to hold your power back. It was settled deep within you, no longer begging for a release. 

“I’m not.” You shook your head.

His gaze searched your face, shadows touching your hair. He trailed his eyes down your neck, to your chest where he fixated on that marred area of flesh for just a moment. Hazel eyes snapped back to yours. 

It was as though your beauty had been amplified tenfold. Your skin glowed, a lightness in your posture by no longer having such a heavy weight on your shoulders. And your eyes, your eyes gleamed with something he’d never seen before. 

Azriel’s chest tightened. 

He cleared his throat. “Madja is looking for something to help you learn control. The more we understand your magic, the easier it’ll be.” 

You nodded, did not dare to break his gaze. Azriel took another step closer. Just a shuffle of his feet. The toes of his shoes nearly touched yours. 

“Don’t be afraid of it,” he advised. “Your power is part of you. If you accept it as such, it’ll yield itself quicker.” 

Another nod. Another blink. 

A gentle breeze brushed past you, wafting his scent through your senses. Pine and wood and parchment. Mint and a gentle kiss of cinnamon. 

You breathed again. 

Madja had stopped by to check on you later that afternoon, taking another sample of your blood and hair and asking an abundance of questions you did your best to answer. Your magic had not let her get very close and when she’d pierced your skin with the needle, it took every ounce of self-restraint to keep that power at bay. 

Even for just a few moments, it had exhausted you. 

Dinner had gone as well as it could. You’d sat at the furthest end of the table, Azriel close beside you but still allowing you some breathing space. 

You’d suggested it would be safer for Nyx not to attend, having no control over your power, you would not allow him to be in the same room as you. Not until you harnessed it more. 

Your magic flared up twice. Once when Lucien offered you a dish of potatoes. And again when Cassian laughed a little too loudly at something Rhys said. Vines had twisted their way around the legs of the table, creeping over the surface as they slithered to reach the Illyrian. 

Azriel placed a hand over yours, his eyes demanding your gaze. “It’s okay,” he reassured softly. And that power began to retreat. 

You offered Cassian an apologetic look, though you were certain the warrior was beginning to feel a little targeted. He’d brushed it off, waving a hand and stuffing another spoonful of potatoes into his mouth. 

As the night drew to a close, that familiar feeling of discomfort began to bubble in your stomach. The thought of going back to the House of Wind deflated you, suffocated you. 

Away from nature, it no longer at the tips of your fingers. You did not want to be confined to the House in the mountains, despite how much it had begun to feel like a home. 

Azriel must have noticed as such, because he titled his head to catch your gaze. “Would you like to stay at the townhouse tonight?”

Your eyes widened marginally. “Oh, no. It’s fine. I don’t want to intrude in anyone else's home.” 

Azriel’s brows furrowed. “You wouldn’t be intruding. Ever.” There was no room for discussion in his tone. He pulled back slightly, shrugging a shoulder. “Besides, it’s usually empty. I stay there when Nesta and Cassian are…louder than usual.”

A snort slipped past your lips at the innuendo and Azriel had to ignore the way it warmed something in his chest. You’d grown to learn just how loud your cousin and her mate could be. Perhaps the townhouse would be a sweet reprieve from that, too. 

Azriel watched the couple quietly, clearing his throat. “Plus, they’ve been drinking,” his voice lowered to a soft whisper, “I can promise you a restless sleep at the House tonight.” 

Another breathy laugh slipped off your tongue and Azriel’s eyes twinkled at the sound. Perhaps it was selfish of him to try and convince you to stay at the townhouse. With him and only him. But your power would not let others get closer to you, and he wanted to offer at least one night of peace and comfort. 

Especially after all you’d endured. 

You bid your family goodnight from a distance, Mor blowing kisses to you across the table and Rhysand reminding you to reach out if anything feels wrong. 

The walk from the Riverhouse to the townhouse was a short one, though you enjoyed it nonetheless. Walking beside Azriel as the moon lit your way was nothing short of beautiful, and you did not miss the way his shadows intertwined with your fingers. 

“Nuala and Cerridwen have brought some of your things to the townhouse,” Azriel said softly beside you, a lone shadow whispering in his ear. 

You offered him a grateful smile, making a mental note to thank the twins whenever you next saw them. Azriel’s lip quirked. “They’ve run you a bubble bath, too.”

Your smile stretched to a grin. 

By the time you reached the townhouse, you could smell the lavender oils the twins had used for your bath. Azriel led you into the foyer and a sense of warmth surrounded you. 

The townhouse was beautiful. Portraits and trinkets hung on the walls, soft glows of gold and greens as the lamps reflected off the plants. Thick but worn rugs on the floor. You took a breath, your shoulders relaxing. 

This felt like home. 

Azriel closed the door behind you both and his shadows slinked up the stairs and out of sight. He pressed a very gentle hand to the small of your back. “Come, I’ll show you to your room.” 

He guided you with that same hand just above your coxis, up the stairs and to the left and down the hall. It was a large landing, three or four doors that you could see on this side of the townhouse. You wondered how many other rooms were on the other side of the stairs. 

You followed the lavender trail, stopping short outside a door and Azriel turned the knob and pushed it open. This room was much smaller than yours at the House, but Gods was it cosy. 

A four poster bed in the centre of the room, two slim dressers either side, a high-back armchair in the corner with a little bookcase beside it. And to the left of that, was an open door that led to a private bathing chamber. 

You couldn’t help the smile that pulled on your lips. Nor could you help the feeling of comfort that blanketed you. 

Azriel cleared his throat. “I’ll let you bathe and get settled. My room is just opposite yours if you need anything.” He pointed to the door behind you both. 

You thanked him, watched him disappear into his own room before you closed the door and made your way to the bathroom. 

The water soothed every muscle in your body, seeping into your pores and nourishing your skin. A fresh night slip had been left folded on the counter by the sink, a new bamboo toothbrush and a small basket filled with your favourite moisturisers, oils and balms. 

After an hour of scrubbing and soaking, you dried and dressed, applied your creams and combed through your hair. It had been a long time since you’d taken such care of yourself, since you felt relaxed enough to take your time. 

You could not shake how much this townhouse felt like home to you. 

Scrunching your wet hair softly with a cotton towel, you padded into your bedroom when a knock sounded on the door. You didn’t need to open it to know who it was, Azriel had already informed you it would just be the two of you at the townhouse tonight. 

“Come in,” you called over your shoulder. 

But nothing could have prepared Azriel for what he walked into. Your back to him, your tiny night slip barely passing your ass, your wet hair pulled over your shoulder as he took note of your shoulder blades. 

Such a simple thing should not have affected him the way it did. His shadows pinched the mugs of tea from his hands and floated them to a nightstand, returning to their masters shoulders just as you turned to greet them. 

Azriel was no longer wearing his leathers, now adored in a pair of grey sweatpants and a dark blue knitted sweater. It was unusual to see him in something other than black, in something so relaxed. 

But Gods, was he beautiful. His hair was slightly damp and mussed from his own bath. He cleared his throat, pointing to the nightstand. “I brought tea.” Azriel was nervous, you could sense it. Smell it. 

He stood in the centre of the room, large wings tucked close to his back. You almost frowned at the sight and the comment slipped before you could stop it. “Do you feel uncomfortable around me?”

Azriel’s own brows pinched at that. “No, of course not. Quite the opposite, actually.” He tilted his head, taking a slow step forward. “Why?” 

A familiar surge of magic bubbled in the pit of your stomach. Not out of fear or anxiety, and it was not the same as before when it tried to protect you. No. This was different, this felt electric. Excited. 

You shrugged, jutting your chin to the dark membrane. “Your wings. They’re tight against your back.”

Azrie’s shoulders sagged slightly, a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his full lips. But he couldn’t bring himself to admit he was uptight because your nipples were pearled and almost cutting through the very thin silk of your slip.

“You’re quite observant,” he noted, “I’m not uncomfortable around you, Y/N. I enjoy your company, your presence. I was trying to give you some space. This room isn’t very big, I didn’t want your power to feel suffocated.” 

Your head tilted at that. “You could never make me feel suffocated, Azriel. I enjoy your company and presence, too.”

His smile grew broader, a row of white teeth gleaming at you and you had no control when your face mirrored his. His heart thumped in his chest at the sight, at the way a sweet scent of lavender and jasmine wafted through the air. 

“You know that night…in the library?” Azriel did not need to ask to know which evening you were referring to. It took every ounce of self-control not to kiss you that night. Only for you to peck his lips in a hasty goodbye just two days later. 

He dipped his head in acknowledgement. 

Your brows furrowed just slightly. “You said you’d come to my room later so we could talk.” He nodded once more, his mind having already replayed every interaction he’d ever shared with you. 

“Can we do that now?” You fiddled with your fingers. “Talk, I mean. If you don’t have other commitments.”

Azriel would drop any prior engagements to spend the night with you. And by the way he gazed into your eyes, it was as though he was silently begging you to understand that. 

He did not need to speak or nod, for you only motioned to your bed and he got the hint. Azriel sat with his wings sprawled across the headboard.

He swallowed thickly, watching you tuck your legs beneath your body, the night slip doing very little to keep you covered. His mind would not stop racing, his shadows would not stop whispering. Dirty thoughts of what you were wearing beneath. If you were wearing anything at all. 

Azriel struggled to stifle his arousal. 

His shadows moved to reach you, caressing every inch of bare skin they could find. A giggle fell from your lips, warmth coating your flesh. 

Azriel could not help himself. “You’re so beautiful when you smile.”

Your grin grew, brows raising, eyes finally meeting his. “Only when I smile?” You teased, a newfound feeling of ease settling in every part of your body. 

He was pleasantly surprised by your response and dared lean a little closer. This was easy, talking with you. “You’re always beautiful. I’ve always thought so.”

You had expected a teasing retort back, not something so sincere and…well…romantic. Your smile faded slightly, a breath stuck in your throat. You swallowed around it. “You have?” 

Azriel nodded. You took in a breath, allowing him to reach for you. His wings spread behind him, drooping just enough to show he did, indeed, feel relaxed around you. He reached for you, tucking hair behind your now pointed ear. 

Your soul began to hum, content and blissful under Azriel’s keen but gentle touch. No male had ever called you beautiful before. No male had ever looked at you the way he was. As though he was besotted, as though he had never seen anything so wonderful in his life before. 

“I had every intention of coming to you that night.” His voice was rough, his tone gentle. It scratched an itch somewhere deep in your core. “Had Rhys not sent me on that mission, I would’ve been there, I would have told you.”

“Told me what?” you breathed. 

He swallowed, his scarred hand cupping the soft skin of your jaw as his thumb smoothed over the apple of your cheek. It took everything in you to fight the fluttering of your eyes. 

“That no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop thinking about you. The moment you crossed that wall, you consumed every part of me.” 

Your breathing staggered, your core pulsed. 

“I know you’ve only been here a short time, but I can no longer pretend that I’m not drawn to you. That I don’t crave your touch.” Shadows slinked your skin again, curling at the nape of your neck and imitating a scratching at your scalp. 

Your lips parted, chest heaving. Azriel’s eyes fluttered closed at the scent that oozed from you. Sweet arousal consumed him, dared to drag him under. 

He loosed a breath. “You have no idea what you do to me.” 

Your body felt like it was on fire, an excitement you had never once felt before. Your chest ached, your thighs trembled. And you knew if you parted your legs, you’d find a pool of wetness dribbling from your core.

No part of you felt guilty for it. No part of you tried to deny your body what it craved. Your soul sung to his, your body shifting closer. His hand on your face trailed down to caress your neck, lower to graze your collarbone, then lower again to skim over the marred flesh of your mark. 

Your eyes fluttered closed, a shaky breath sounding from you. You wanted him, needed him. That power surged in the pit of your stomach, desperate. You breathed deeply, the air thicker than before, and full of something you had never once scented. 

It was Azriel’s scent, only stronger. A raw and unfiltered scent that stirred the coil in your gut. Eyes fluttering open, they landed on his lap—on the girth that grew beneath the grey of his sweatpants. 

You swallowed thickly, chest heaving. You began to stir, hips shifting and brows knitted. “Az…” You were breathless, almost panting and his jaw clenched. 

“It’s okay,” he ground out. His fingers toyed with the thin strap of your slip, goosebumps erecting across your skin as his shadows caressed your arms and neck. Your head lulled to the side, eyes hooded. 

“Touch me,” you pleaded through a broken whisper. 

His jaw clenched again, his pupils blown and wings outstretched and tight. He did not move, did not look away. You reached for his wrist, daring to guide his hand over your full breast, over the perk of your nipple. 

A soft moan slipped past your lips. You had never felt arousal like it. Had never felt so needy that you’d resort to begging. Never had you expected to end up in such a state. You never had for Rafe. But this was Azriel. And everything about Azriel was intoxicating. 

With your hand over his, you encouraged him to grope you, to feel you. Azriel allowed you to guide him, would allow you to set the pace so long as you were comfortable and sure. So long as he made you feel good. 

The strap of your gown slipped down your arm, and you tugged the other down along with it. A low growl sounded from the back of Azriel’s throat. He was losing whatever control he had left. And you were desperate to see him snap. 

You shuffled closer on your knees, almost settling in his lap when you pulled his hand away from your breast and allowed the slip to fall past your chest, baring yourself to him. His eyes remained on yours, his chest rising and falling but you did not look away. 

If you want something, despite how wrong that desire may feel at first, take it.

But nothing about this felt wrong. No part of this felt like it wasn’t supposed to be. You did not feel unworthy beneath his gaze, you did not feel guilty for giving into your desires. 

Because the way Azriel looked at you, the way his gaze shifted to your chest, the way his eyes fluttered closed and he inhaled your arousal so deeply…you knew he wanted this just as badly as you did. 

With his eyes still closed, Aziel blindly reached for your hips and dragged you into his lap. A gasp escaped you, your legs parting to wrap around his waist and your soaked cunt sat over his throbbing cock. 

Your fingers tangled in his midnight hair, his head tilting as his breath ghosted your clavicle. Your nipples hardened, back arched. And he swiped his tongue over a pearled nub before suckling it into his warm mouth. 

You arched into him, tugging at his hair and rolling your hips against his. Azriel’s grip on your hips tightened, but he did not control you. He allowed you to move at your own pace, allowed you to decide how far you wanted this to go. 

You tugged at his hair, beckoning him to look at you. He pulled off your breast, eyes blown with a look of undeniable hunger. You stared at him for a moment, basked in his dark gaze and the feel of him pulsing beneath you. 

The weight of your position did not feel heavy, you did not want to stop. But you did not want to rush. You wanted to savour this—him. You wanted to take your time, wanted to understand how sex and intimacy was supposed to feel like. 

And Azriel could read as much in just your eyes alone. He leaned close, noses brushing as his lips ghosted yours. “I don’t need to use my cock to bring you pleasure,” he whispered, enveloping your lips in a searing kiss. 

Azriel’s hands travelled from your hips, up your waist and to your chest, kneading your breasts and pinching at your nipples. You hummed into his mouth, allowing his tongue to massage yours. 

“Let me show you how good it can be. How it’s supposed to feel.”

Your brain felt like it was overgrown in blooms, unable to do anything but nod and hand him the reins. Your magic grew excited, flora sprouting in your damp hair with every kiss he littered down your jaw and neck. 

“Turn around for me.” Azriel helped guide your body to how he wanted you, sat between his parted legs, your back to his chest and his lips breezing against the shell of your ear. 

“Good girl.” 

You were royally fucked. 

He let his hands travel down your covered stomach, fingers reaching for the soft skin of your thighs. You welcomed every touch, basked in the rough skin of his scarred hands. You could hardly breath, so pent up in anticipation. 

Azriel nipped at your ear. “Can you spread your legs for me, baby?” 

A pathetic mewl sounded from your throat and you found yourself nodding obediently and spreading your thighs for him. Azriel’s shadows wrapped around your thighs, down your legs and ankles and slithered back up again. A few rushed back to him, whispering their findings to their master. 

Dripping. Excited. Delicious. 

Azriel took a laboured breath to steady himself, his cock pressing into your ass. He let his hands grip your waist, fingers reaching the hem of your slip and bunching it in a strong fist.

He pulled it away, exposing your sopping heat and your head lulled back against his shoulder. “Can I touch you?” You nodded before he even finished his question, your legs spreading wider for him. 

Azriel snuck a hand between your thighs, cupping your sex as your arousal coated him. His deft fingers rubbed teasingly through your slick folds, spreading the wetness across your entire cunt. 

A shuddered breath escaped you. “Please.” 

With clenched teeth, Azriel appeased you, reaching up to your clit and pressing the pad of his middle finger against it. A gasp slipped from your mouth, his finger rubbing right circles on that puffy bud. 

Rafe had never once touched your clit. 

Your hips bucked into his hand and Azriel began to rub faster. But it wasn’t enough. The pressure built in your lower stomach, a feeling only you had been able to get yourself to, and even then never passed. 

Azriel could sense your need and replaced his finger with his thumb and reached lower. A single digit probed your fluttering hole, swirling in arousal before slowly sinking between your walls. 

You hummed in pleasure, eyes closing as he curled his finger against a spongy spot. Your hips rolled, chest heaving. You had never felt anything so exhilarating in your life. Azriel added a second finger, stretching your cunt deliciously. 

“Gods, Az…” you couldn’t find the words to describe what he was doing to you—how he was making you feel. He hummed, nuzzling his nose up your neck and latching his lips to your jaw; kissing and licking and biting. 

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N. Look how well you’re taking me.”

Azriel’s praise went to your head, your heart, your cunt. You could feel him everywhere. Shadows pinched at your nipples, Az’s hand working tirelessly against your core. Your hips rolled to meet his movements, your legs shook as he curled and scissored. 

You had never imagined it to feel this way. 

You rolled your head back, lips parted as you blindly searched for his. Azriel met you in a searing kiss, his tongue licking the insides of your mouth as you fought to meet his pace. 

Then the shaking started, and the small whimpers and moans turned to cries as you bucked against him. Azriel only kissed you harder, fucked you harder. The sound of his fingers pummeling your cunt were obscene, wet and loud and spurring you toward the edge. 

Your stomach pinched, coiled. A wave of uncontrollable pleasure and power coursed through your very being as you cried out into his mouth. Azriel did not relent his pace, did not offer a moment's reprieve. 

He worked you through it, pumping and pinching, sucking and biting. That tight rope in your abdomen snapped, your jaw slacking and eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

Azriel watched as you came around his fingers, his own release coating his pants as you clenched around him and cried and thrashed. He had never seen anything so fucking beautiful before in his life. 

Your chest heaved, legs trembling. And a flurry of petals rained down on your bodies, clinging to the sheen of sweat on your skin. Azriel reluctantly removed his hand, guiding fingers to his mouth to finally reward himself with a taste. 

He regretted it the moment he did it. Because now he did not know how to live without that taste on his tongue for the rest of his life. His cock hardened again at the thought of tasting you properly. 

Azriel gazed down at you, fluttering lashes and flushed skin. You were catching your breath, unable to speak a coherent sentence. He leaned down to kiss your mouth slowly, your lips mirroring his. You could taste yourself on his tongue and it only made you crave it once more. 

“You doing okay?” He asked gently. 

You hummed, chasing his lips when he tried to pull away. Azriel chuckled at your eagerness, he’d given you a taste and now you were hungry for more. 

“Not tonight,” he told you. 

You couldn’t help the frown, but Azriel planted a kiss to your brow and rested his forehead on yours. 

“I don’t want you to rush yourself into these things. You have consumed me, Y/N. There’s no rush. We have all the time in the world.” 

A tether tugged at your soul, so light you almost missed it. But your magic had responded, wrapping itself around that thin piece of string and humming in approval. 

“You have no idea how scared I was when we found you in the mountains,” he whispered solemnly. “I thought you were gone.” 

You strained your neck to look at him, at the silver that lined those molten honey eyes. Your hand reached for his face, fingers gently striking the stumbled skin of his cheek. 

“I’m okay,” you reassured him. “Different, now…yes. But this is who I’m supposed to be. I have to believe the Mother intended for it to be this way.”

He hummed, and that feeling tugged slightly once more—a little harder this time. Your gut, most likely, butterflies. 

“I won’t let you do something so foolish again.” 

Your head fell back against Azriel’s chest, his shadows working to cover your exposed body again before they tugged the blanket over you. 

And there, in his arms, you became someone else. Someone you were always fated to be. 

a/n: okay so i got slightly carried away with the teasing between az and y/n so it ended up a bit longer that the other parts BUT the next part is a very big one and potentially the last :(((( but even if it is, i have some ideas to do some check in fics with them in the future!

if you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a like and reblog, your feedback is always appreciated <3

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[eggcompany]

Divorced Zaundads AU

Except they get back together after years of being apart.

Silco grew his business, renting a big empty apartment that didn’t smell like their old apartment above the bar. He mostly just sat on his little balcony and smoked cigarettes. He spent all his time alone, doing yoga in his living room and eating salad. Food didnt taste good when he made it. Nothing felt good if he was doing it by himself.

Vander raised little Violet and baby Powder. He tried his best but he felt kinda… empty. He was stressed and did his best working the bar and taking the kids to school and trying to keep the apartment clean. He sometimes still grabbed four plates for dinner.

Everything falls into place one day, after three years. Silco’s in a bad place. He’d been drinking and yelling at employees and just spending every minute out of the office sitting in the dark of his apartment. Vander was burnt out, going through the motions. He just wanted to sleep all the time.

Silco decided he’d go to the place him and Vander used to go to. The bridge. He threw on his coat, wearing his slippers and wrinkled silk pajamas, and went out to smoke a cigar and over look the river.

Vander decided he needed to go on a walk, get some fresh air. Benzo had agreed to babysit AKA sleep in the recliner in the apartment living room just in case one of the girls woke up. He ended up at the river, the bridge, the one where he asked Silco to spend their lives together.

Silco didn’t notice him until Vander was leaning against the guardrail next to him. He could’ve cried. He was warm and the smell of him was so bone deep familiar. Silco didn’t mean to let the sob out.

“I missed you. I miss you so fucking much it’s killing me.” Silco said as Vander pulled him into a hug, so close, so tight. Vander held onto him like he’d never let go, nosing at his dark hair.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just- I need you.” Vander said and Silco nodded, hands twisting in Vander’s jacket.

Silco was being pushed away, his hands coming up to wipe away his tears before Vander was leaning down to press a kiss onto his lips. Neither of them knew who started it but soon they were making their way to the closest motel.

It was a blur of familiar hands, clothes hitting the floor, whispered ‘I love you’s, and what they both needed. The intimacy of being with someone who knows every inch, every good spot, everything.

Vander kissed across the scar on Silco’s face, the mark he’d caused, even as Silco cried, the feeling of being full, for the first time in so long, he could feel Vander’s heartbeat, his sorrow.

“I wanna go home.” Silco said as they laid together in the motel bed, cuddled close, satisfied and happy.

“I what you home. It’s where you belong.” Vander said and pulled Silco impossibly closer.

When the morning rolled around Silco put his pajamas back on and his coat, a giddy, teenage kinda laughter filled them as they put their clothes on and left the motel. It was a flower bloomed again for the first time in the spring.

The girls were happy when their papa came back. Powder clinging to his pant leg, violet was a little more withheld. Silco understood. The scars and his eye, she was afraid of him. It was okay.

Soon he let his lease end and their apartment, the one that they were always supposed to have, was bright and back to the way it was supposed to be.

[hirayalore]

the one where sirius black didn’t fall into the veil and was instead saved by you, his lover of many years.

pairing: sirius black x fem!reader

word count: 0.8k

rating: NC-17

content: angst, established relationship au

warning/s: near death experience, reader being shaken because of almost losing sirius, swearing, suggestive themes by the end

“What—”

Sirius blinked, not processing what just happened as he found himself back at Grimmauld place.

It was only mere seconds ago that he was at the Department of Mysteries, having a duel against Bellatrix with Harry battling alongside him. Everything felt so exhilarating—he was having the time of his life, conjuring a bunch of offensive and defensive spells towards Bellatrix’s way, releasing some of the pent up tension he had been trying to tame while cooped up and hidden inside the Order’s headquarters.

Then all of a sudden, in a moment of recklessness, a spell abruptly hit him hard on the chest, causing him to stumble backwards and almost trip on his feet at the impact.

Almost.

Because just when he thought he was going to fall in the veil behind him, he heard you scream his name in a manner he has never heard before. It was piercing, the kind to emit shivers on the spine, the kind he was certain he was going to remember for days on—and the next thing he knew, before he could understand the lay of events, he was here at his old home with you right in front of him, holding onto his arms so tightly that he could feel your nails digging in his skin.

The both of you had apparated, he finally realized. You had rushed to him before he could fall and grabbed him, teleporting the two of you to the one place you could think of that could keep you safe. 

“____,” he began as he dawned on him what prompted you to do such a thing. “I—I’m so sorry, love. I—”

“I hate you, Sirius.” You practically spat on his face, venom lacing your tone as you let go of him and instead started punching him hardly on the chest. “So fucking reckless—doesn’t fucking think about anything but himself—”

He took your jabs without complaint, letting you take out your frustration even if the spell that almost knocked him over still made it hard for him to breathe.

“You could’ve—” you continued, each punch harder than the last, a stream of tears falling on your cheeks now as it continued to sink what could have happened if you weren’t fast enough— “You really do want to leave me, don’t you? Want me to bloody fend for myself again, be left alone, be without you after already suffering for Merlin knows how long—”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice coming out as a whisper in shame of his rashness earlier. “Darling, I didn’t mean to be so foolish with my actions. I wasn’t thinking, really, I’m so sorry.”

You huffed out a scoff, giving him one last shove and turning away, walking towards the wall where you lean on it for support.

You were on the verge of hyperventilating, your heart was beating so fast, and little noises were coming out of your lips as the sobs couldn’t stop. The only thing keeping you standing was how you were resting on the partition as even your knees felt like giving out.

No matter how much you tried to calm yourself down, to push away the thoughts of Sirius being permanently taken away from you, you couldn’t. You couldn’t erase that horrible feeling of knowing you could have lost the love of your life again tonight—with this time no longer having the opportunity to ever bring him back to you if he did.

In an instant, Sirius embraced you from behind, murmuring his apologies again and again despite knowing he couldn’t fix the damage he had done easily due to his negligence.

You didn’t force him off, but you didn’t reciprocate his gestures as well, your body shaking uncontrollably because of still being stricken with the reality of almost losing him.

With utmost gentleness, he spun you around so that you were back facing him, his calloused hands tilting your chin up in order to look at your eyes that were bloodshot and wet. He kissed your cheeks, a lingering kiss that prompted you to let out a whimper, before he kissed you full on the mouth, so much tenderness and remorse being poured into the gesture.

“I’m sorry, love,” he murmured against your mouth. “It was just a lapse of judgment, okay? I’d never want to leave you again. I will never leave you, you hear me? You’re stuck with me for an eternity.”

You gazed up at him, encircling your arms around his neck and pulling him towards you for another kiss, desperate to physically feel him which he was more than willing to oblige.

“Stop being so reckless, Sirius,” you pleaded, your fingers tangling in his hair, your kisses persistent. “You can’t keep on doing this to me.”

“I know, I know.” He returned the same intensity that you were showing him, caught up with the rush of sudden yearning. “I’ll be better. I won’t make you worry.”

You no longer bothered replying, you just continued to kiss him, dragging him with you to the nearest room you could wander into, a silent order that if he wanted to make it up to you, he should start by making you feel every part of him until it was clear to you that he wasn’t going to be anywhere else.

gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡

[timeskip]

[768 words]

3

Aoi is 13 when he begins to dye his hair, stealing bottles of bleach and toner from the store behind everyone's backs.

Akane watches this with interest, at first; she's only 10, and the idea of getting different colors in her hair is exciting until Aoi warns her not to touch it, and the smell is awful, and he spends hours and hours dying it, and then his roots grow out anyway. She still watches him bleach it once, because he's all she has, even if she's just sitting on the side of the bathtub and listening to him tell her not to steal.

Her brother can steal, but Akane can't; for a reason she can't explain, she thinks that someday she'll commit worse crimes.

Akane watches him move, his reflection in the mirror, and kicks her feet and tries to imagine Aoi with white hair for the rest of his life. Somehow, it fits.

More than that, Akane is happy for this moment. He rarely comes home from work this early, but she's always happy when he does. Already, she's gotten some taste of how little the adults care for the two of them, and the two of them are always alone.

6

As Akane grows into her memories, so does Aoi. One second he's the boy with the blue scarf who Seven will describe 9 years in the future, and the next he's turning into her memory of Santa, with his white hair and hairbands, and eyes that look both unlike her brother as she knew him at 15, and which undeniably will be him, in the future.

Akane is meticulous about appearances. It's habit; everything has to look the same, and then has to work the same. She sees the Nonary Game through a fragmented, child's memory. She and Aoi and the hired engineers are reverse engineering their own future.

Akane starts wearing arm warmers before Aoi does. She starts wearing her hair into half a bun before Aoi puts on his hairbands.

On the tip of her tongue is a request for him to do the same, to play the role he's meant to play before the day comes that he has to be that perfect Santa from her memories; but she can't bring herself to say it. There's over a year left, she reminds herself, and taps the spot on her wrist that will one day carry a bracelet. She should wear that too, someday, practice being June in more than face and voice and expression.

Aoi already knows what his role is, Akane tells herself. She has to trust him.

When they were kids, she trusted him absolutely, let him work himself down in whatever jobs he could get after school, labor laws be damned--and she's grateful for that, she really is. It's not fair for her to not trust her with this, with her entire life. There's no way that Aoi will mess up.

But still, she worries. She looks in the mirror and thinks that something in her has aged past 20, past 21, into a nebulous future she hasn't tried looking for yet.

0

The desert rushes past, and Akane is laughing because it's better than crying. Relief is a strange emotion, bubbling through her body as she realizes she doesn't know what to do now.

She's running from everything she created, just as they decided, but she can't stop herself from looking back at Building Q, that strange, boxy shape behind her.

"You didn't have to remind me to put on my seatbelt," she tells Aoi, still staring behind them.

"Yeah I did. I'm still your brother, you know." He's doing that tone, now--a reminder tone, a tone that says listen to me. And she is listening, finally looking back at him. Aoi is her brother. Even if Santa wasn't June's brother--Akane has to remember that Aoi is her brother.

With him, slowly this day will unwind them back into who they really are; June and Santa will go away for the time being.

But maybe she'll miss having something to look for in the future. She really does feel so empty. Akane's life work has ended, 9 years of desperation trying to make the dominoes fall correctly.

But she hasn't lost everything; while she was shaping herself into the person she'd have to be, Aoi has been supporting her. Every moment, every second, as the sun beats down on the sand and Akane is falling through the hourglass, she can still remember what it felt like to have precious time with him, only having each other.

[dissociation-station123]

Chapter Six - Lapse in Control

Sylus X Reader

You were unable to form a sentence at the moment. Chemical endorphins in your brain were overflowing with pleasure. All you could seem to do was groan in appreciation. “Y/N..” A voice calls out your name but the juicy burger was way more tempting than the baritone sound.

A hand reaches out to grab your own as you go to savor another delectable bite. You look up at the man across from you. “I’m getting jealous sweetie.” A fake pout appears on his face and you begrudgingly set down the meal.

“Sorry but this is delicious.” You praise whoever created such a masterpiece. He chuckles again as he nods. “What were you saying?”

“Are you free on the last Saturday of this month?” He asks again, you have come to appreciate Sylus’s patience. He never makes you feel rushed to do anything.

You laugh at his question and his eyebrows raise in confusion. “Sylus, you do know who you're talking to at the moment right?” He nods still unsure why you won’t give him a simple yes or no. “Then yes I have no plans whatsoever. You are the only one who forces me from the comforts of my home.”

He smiles then as realization crosses his features. “Right. I have a favor and I never ask for those lightly.” His gaze falls and though his tone is light it’s laced with a bit of melancholy.

“You seem to like owing me…” You tease and he smirks amusement now taking over. “Spit it out already. Would love to finish up this burger sooner rather than later.” He grabs a napkin and gently wipes the corner of your lips as you scowl.

“I have to attend a wedding. I would prefer not to be at this one alone.” He doesn’t give any more details but you have already pieced them together.

“Sure I’ll keep you amused so you don’t have to think about the bride.” You answer and he grins appreciatively. “Permission to punch you when you look dazed and like you're reminiscing on the past?”

“Full access granted if I can call you kitten.” He counters and you frown. “And since I assumed you would say yes because you are a kind person, I have plans after this to go shopping.” A heavy sigh escapes your lips at the thought of having to browse around a store.

“Only because I like you. But you owe me a lot more of these burgers in the future.” You say not looking forward to the events after tonight’s meal. He holds out his hand and you take it, shaking in agreement.

“Thank you.” He says earnestly and you glimpse a bit of fear but only for a second. You pick up your burger and take a large bite, savoring the flavor.

“I don’t like going to big social events. The thought of doing that alone seems even more unbearable. You're a friend so no need for thanks.” You think back to your melt down earlier in the day. The embarrassment you felt once your sense returned and how Sylus handled it. You owed him the same consideration.

You continue eating and once done he lifts the napkin and you grumble. “I’m not that messy.” You complain but he simply smiles. You realize this is how he shows he cares. He is still closed off in a way but his actions show you who he truly is.

-

“Y/N…” Sylus calls out to you from behind a fitting room door. You already feel awkward and out of place, this particular mall being a hot spot for the wealthy. “Can you help me?”

“You are awfully needy today Sylus.” You counter and hear him chuckle. You make your way into a private fitting room, still overwhelmed by how people cater to him the moment he walks in.

It was massive, there was even enough space for a fancy upholstered velvet chair and end table, where a nice bottle of whisky sat. The glass beside it is already half filled, you eye it wanting just a sip. “Go on. It’s fine.” You gleefully pick it up and make a pleased sound.

“The tailor had to deal with an irate customer before finishing my measurements.” You look over at him, now aware of the fact he was very shirtless, you nearly choke on the second sip of liquor. His physique was something out of an otome game, one of the main love interests. You couldn’t help but stare greedily.

“Well, care to help me?” He asks again with a sly expression, knowing you were mesmerized. Holding out the measurement tape towards you. “Just need to get my waist. Think you can do it sweetie?”

“S-Sure…” You gulp hating how pathetic you sounded. Thinking way too much about not looking awkward as you attempt to grab the tape from his hand while also setting down the glass, the ice clinging. Your limbs tremble slightly, it’s been awhile since a half dressed man stood before in an intimate space, and he was ridiculously attractive. Even you who tended to not pay close attention could not ignore it.

“You alright? Not feeling well? You looked fine while stealing my whiskey.” He says snarkily but you don’t know what expression he has because you're too busy ogling his chest. You simply nod and make your way closer, trying not to trip over your own feet, the big fitting room suddenly feeling too small.

You wrap the tape around his waist but apparently not where it needed to be, his hand guiding you lower. You swallow heavily, the heat from his body making you shift your weight uncomfortably. You try not to look, but your eyes get drawn to the perfect lines of his abs.

Something takes over you, some force that has been hidden deep within yourself for some time. Without doubt or hesitation you lift your fingers to trace the enticing curves biting your lower lip. You feel the muscles beneath your fingertips tense and Sylus let out a breath, as they journey lower.

“Hah… Y/N what are you doing?” He questions his voice lower than usual. He quickly grabs your hand, halting its movements. You look up at him in that moment, dazed by his beauty.

“You're so pretty Sylus. It is unreal.” You mutter dreamily, those red eyes widen at your words. His expression is void of his usual cocky defiance and teasing.

“Yeah… You think so?” He asks huskily, his grip now loosens on your mischievous hand. There is a sudden hunger in his eyes that you have never seen or noticed in another human. You slowly nod your eyelids droop as you fall further into this strange haze.

“Sir, I apologize for the wait.” The door to the fitting room flies open, roughly knocking you back to your senses. You blink a few times and then hurriedly look at the number on the yellow tape. “Oo my, sorry for interrupting.” The clerk looks to the ground in embarrassment.

“No umm it’s not…” You struggle to find an excuse but there are too many running through your mind to physically voice them. You rush over to the table and quickly scrawl the number into the notebook laying there. “I’ll meet you out there Sylus.” You stumble forward rushing past the employee, your cheeks burning up.

You lean against the wall, your head falling back against the cool concrete. Your heart is pounding loudly. You close your eyes trying to pull yourself together. Overwhelmed by this sudden rush of feelings, catching you completely off guard.

“Seems she got the last measurement for your shirt.” You hear the clerk's muffled voice as you wait. “You wanted a pair of pants, right sir? Would you like me to get those measurements as well?”

“No!” Sylus shouts aggressively and you are startled by his harshness. You hear him immediately apologize to the clerk, you could only imagine how scared they were beside him. “I realized I have a pair at home that will work perfectly. So no need.”

A few seconds later the clerk emerges with notebook in hand, still a bit frazzled. You watch as Sylus takes out a small stack of bills and places them in their hand. Sylus looks a bit disheveled as he continues to apologize and explain when he needs the items.

Your heart is back to a normal pace as you smile a bit seeing him awkwardly fumble in a conversation. Very not like the Sylus you originally met. You stand up from leaning and make your way over to him.

“I don’t think I can afford anything at this particular mall.” You interrupt and his gaze quickly shifts to you. He stares at you for a second then nods, a silent understanding that what just happened was not to be spoken of. It was just a lapse in control, both of you being touch deprived and a bit lonely in nature.

“Not to worry. You have helped me out and have agreed to go so I must return the gesture.” He explains as you both head out the door. You make a disgruntled face but he ruffles your hair teasingly. “No complaining.” You sigh and agree.

As you make your way to the boutique to pick out your outfit he grabs your shoulders from behind and pulls you close. His breath tickles your ear causing a pleasant shiver to run down your spine, “You can be bold when you want to be can’t you kitten.” He whispered, his voice tinged in seductive tones.

“Sylus…” You growl, warning him as you turn around to face him with a fierce glare. He puts his hands up in defeat but his coy expression has returned, and so does his loud laughter.

“Ok! Ok! It is now wiped from my mind dear friend.” He says almost gleefully. You knew he was temptation personified but you knew you were usually unfazed by such antics. Being around him more often is causing you to revert back to your past self. One not hardened by betrayal and pain. What a dangerous man…

[sixflame438]

Birthday Cake

Synopsis - The day before your birthday, Yunjin pays you a visit

Pairing - Kim Chaewon x Reader

Tags - Angst (not that sad tbh), established relationship, told from Yunjins perspective, Chae is only mentioned. Inspired by the song Birthday Cake - Dylan Conrique. Possible errors

Word count - 2799

“Hey. Howve you been? I hope lifes treating you well, wherever you are now.”

“Youre turning 23 tomorrow god youre getting too old for this world grandma.” Yunjin couldnt help but chuckle to herself from the irony of it all, knowing you werent getting any older and you never would. 

“As per birthday tradition we made you a cake! Well Chaewon baked it obviously, you know i cant bake for shit. Youre probably laughing at me right now arent you? You werent any better either.”

“Remember that time actual firefighters had to come and save us from the mess you created? When you tried flambéing for the first time to impress Chaewon with a fancy home cooked dinner? But then ended up impressing everyone by burning down your kitchen?

Oh and remember that time when you tried baking bread but got distracted and left the loaf in for too long? It was like a black crunchy concrete brick. And then your dumbass tried eating it”

Yunjin recalled, cackling at the memory. “Man that was the best 10 bucks of my life, wiping her tears from laughing too hard.

“Fun times those were” 

“Hey I helped decorate it though! We all did! Its a nice heart shaped cake in your favorite colour with ribbons and swirls of frosting to line the edges. We even cut and put on some of your favorite fruits. Youll see it tomorrow when Chaewon comes to spend the day with you.

Speaking of your girlfriend, or ex girlfriend now? i guess im not quite sure since you know youre not here but then again you never really broke up either so like honestly im just gonna say girlfriend because saying ex girlfriend makes the situation even sadder.

“So like anyway we spent half the day going around to places you both spent time together at. Im talking date spots, food places, things you liked to do together. I think she wouldve rathered go alone but i didnt feel right letting her go out half in a daze.”

“We went to the park where you two first met. Sat on the ledge of the fountain she pulled you out of, in the exact spot you gave her your number to repay her back for saving you. She didnt say much during the day, just a few words of how the moment you had together went. I think she was reliving it in her head, i cant even blame her.

We then went to the bakery coffeeshop you had your first date at, Chaes favorite one in the city. She ordered her usual, a slice of cake and a milkshake, apparently you two would always share those when you went.

The waiter recognised her and immediately put the order in with a nod, Chae didnt even need to say anything. I got a milkshake too, it was pretty good i can see why you enjoy the place.

Chae ate half the cake, drank half the shake and then left it, said that she was saving it for you. I think part of her still thinks youre here. Like she knows youre not, but she doesn’t want to believe it.”

“Did you know her milkshake came with 2 straws? Maybe the waiter thought id be sharing it with Chae but like i also got my own one so maybe the waiter thought youd be coming too. SHE definitely did. She kept going on about how we couldnt go yet because you werent there yet. It took her half an hour after before she left the cafe. 

Your half of the meal is probably in the bin now, either that or Chae took it home with her. I dont really know, i stepped out and waited in the car. It felt like i was interrupting something. Didnt feel like crying in public either, at least in the car less people would notice.”

Yunjin doesnt say much after that, letting her thoughts take over and enter rumination. Its not until she hears the cheerful chirp of a robin that she snaps out of her reverie, wiping away a stray tear that had began to fall. Clearing her throat she continues to recount her day.

“Ahem uhm we also went to some other places, your favorite ice cream store by the pier, that one ramen place we found on a drunk night out, the tiny photo booth store in the mall with all the goofy accessories. You get the point though, places we made memories at, places where we had fun together. Now we’ll never get to.”

“At the end Chae had me drop her off by this flower garden. Im not quite sure why she wanted to go, she didnt say. She also didnt want me to go with her either. All i know is that theres a big duck pond inside, maybe you would know why. 

And then I came here.” 

Reaching into the bag she brought with her, Yunjin pulled out a medium sized box. Not too big, not too small and placed it on the ground in front of some flowers that were starting to wilt, evident by the dry outer petals and leaves. The box was covered in blue and white lined wrapping paper, topped with a golden ribbon bow and a tagged envelope attached by string. 

“Oh and i brought you a present. Youd probably try emphasise how much you dont need a gift and that just being with you was enough but how could i not? Its your birthday. You and Chae can open it up tomorrow, i wont reveal the surprise just yet. 

I wrote you a card inside too, i know how much you appreciate each one you get. I stumbled upon your box of old cards youve kept. Sorry i didnt snoop too far i promise, i stumbled across it when looking for clothes to steal borrow while you were out oops uh now you know but i got curious and took a lil looksies. Found the one i wrote to you 3 years ago, actually made me cringe i dont know why you kept that. Will also not understand how you managed to keep one from when you were 12 though. Like i cant even remember where i leave things the day of i cant imagine being able to keep something for that long. Real dedication you know.”  

Theres a rustling of leaves in the air as silence stretches on, a slight breeze blowing past making the atmosphere of the graveyard even more chilling than it normally is. 

“You know its funny, she visits you every weekend , half the time probably just to sit in silence, but you already knew that. After all your always here its not like you can leave, no matter how much anyone wishes otherwise.”

Leaning back onto her arms with her hands flat on the ground, Yunjin looks up into the sky wistfully, watching the clouds slowly drift across and a few broken leaves fall down beside her. Its strange how the clouds kinda look like your face a little. 

“She still tells you everything right? Just like before? Ive never seen someone who Chaewon opened up so easily to. You cracked through her angry hardass exterior so easily we didnt even know that was possible. Everyone else had such a tough time trying to connect with her at the start, she was always so standoffish and judgy, in a bitchy way you know? 

Yet you appeared and proved otherwise. Made us feel like fools. Her friends of multiple years outdone by some girl she had met a few days prior, we were all jealous as hell.” 

“But youre not just some girl. Youre yn ln. The yn ln who made Kim Chaewon the happiest girl she could ever be. The love of her life. The one she wanted to marry and spend the rest of her days growing old and wrinkly with. 

Yeah she wanted to marry your dumb gay ass, picked out a ring and everything, i was there when she brought it.”

The plan was to have a beach day with the gang, you love the beach. Spend the day in the sun and surf then at night we would have a bonfire going, roast some marshmallows, eat some smores and then while youd be busy distracted Chae would get down on one knee and propose. There would be flowers on the floor in the shape of a heart, there’d be fireworks to celebrate and light up the sky. It was just like in those cliche tv shows you guys liked to binge together. 

After you said yes, because we all know you would, you two would spend time together on the beach, watching the waves roll in and stares shine bright in the sky. Just the two of you in the best place possible, the company of each other. 

Chae had it all perfectly planned out and it was going to be the best day ever for everyone, not including your wedding day of course, but who knew just 2 days before that, you…well….Yeah.” 

Tears begin to fight their way out of Yunjins eyes, the memory of the news weakening her composure. 

“Chae regrets it so much, that she didnt propse earlier because even if you still had to go, youd still be closer to fully being together. The word girlfriend is weak when compared to ones like fiancée or wife but we all agree you guys were each other’s wives, hell you guys already acted like a married couple with the way you treated each other, the only thing you were missing was the official government title. Theres no denying you guys were great together though, you fit together like pieces in a puzzle.”

“She never told you about any of that did she? I wouldnt be surprised, I dont think she has the heart to tell you. 

Not after it got shattered to pieces when we got the call. It broke her you know? You. Broke her. Though you know that. In fact youre probably beating yourself up for it too, it wasnt your fault.”

Salty water was now flowing freely from Yunjins eyes, the streaks leaving a stinging after effect that started to poke and prod at her face. Temporarily she loses balance as she cleans up the running tears with her sleeve, careful to be weary of her makeup. There was a reason she wore waterproof mascara today. 

“I still see Chaewon holding your engagement rings sometimes. She would fiddle with both of them for a little bit before putting on her one. It would slide into place so smoothly and shed wiggle her fingers and admire the ring as if it was the first time shed seen it. 

It really does look natural on her, sits so well on her finger like it was meant to be. Yours is absolutely beautiful as well, i know youd love it. Maybe one day she’ll let you see it.”

Theres another moment of silence before Yunjin continues, hesitation evident in her voice. 

“I know its probably selfish and cruel to ask of this, but could you do me a favor?” 

“Could you loosen the hold you have over Chaewon? Im not asking you to make her forget, id never wish that for anyone and i definitely dont want to forget you either but please, set her free.”

“We both know shes never really going to, shes too attached, but encourage her to let go a little, tell her that shell be alright even if youre not here physically, let her know that no matter what happens you will always be by her side supporting her. All she ever does now is work, stay home or visit you. I know its not much different from what she did when you were still here but she doesnt even go out anymore. No matter how hard we try. 

We did manage to get her to go on this date with this girl but not even 5 minutes in she ran out crying because all she could think about was you and how being on that date was like betraying and cheating on you. And we both know you hated cheaters. 

It doesnt matter if Chae ever finds a new person or of she stays alone for the rest of her life clinging to your memory, i just need her to be happy. Maybe itll never be the same as it was before, but i cant keep going on seeing her like this. 

She doesnt talk much and she doesnt even cry much anymore, i think shes run out of tears, just sits staring out into space. Its always silence with her now, she doesnt even get angry for fucks sake what happened to our angry cheetah? Shes lost all the fire she ever had in her, its still in there, it has to be. But, im not sure if we will ever see it again.”

Theres a much longer pause now before she speaks again, breaking the sullen silence with an equally solemn tone. Snorts and sniffles accompany her now hoarse voice, the crying between speaking taking its toll. 

“Im sorry for not visiting earlier, i know its been almost 9 months since youve left, but to be honest i couldnt bring myself to come.”

“Its not the same anymore. The group cant do some the things we all used to do together. Anytime you get mentioned Jimin starts crying, Ryu gets mad and starts yelling before she also starts silently crying, she doesnt think we know, Yujin just gets up and leaves without saying anything and Chae just goes still and silent. Its like we cant even talk about you as a group anymore because everyone just goes quiet, trapped in the memories of the past or the moments of what could be.” 

Running her hands through her hair, Yunjin lets out a frustrated gasp of air, clearly not a fan of how things have become. Her eyes closed tightly as if it would suppress the multitude of emotions she was feeling in the moment. If Yunjin had been standing shed be pacing back and forth right now. 

Sigh “Ah its been more than an hour already” she says as she looks down at her phone. “Im really sorry that i have to cut this short, i wouldve been talking to you longer if i hadnt just sat in my car for so long, it really is inexcusable since i haven’t even visited before but im meeting my girlfriends parents for the first time today at dinner. Im quite nervous about it because what if theyre unwelcoming and dont like me? Or what if theyre not open to their daughter dating someone elses daughter? I really hope it goes well.

Oh my god i never told you about her. Im so sorry that i left it to this late to mention something as important as that. Youd be grilling me for details right now if you were here. Her names Kazuha Nakamura, came from Japan. Shes so calm, so so sweet and an absolute angel. She carries herself with so much grace like a princess of royalty but shes so unserious she could never actually be one if she tried. Also really funny without even trying, you two would’ve gotten along so well.”

“Zuhas also really understanding, helped me cope and get through you leaving, one of the main reasons I was able to keep going despite everything actually.”

“I really think it might work out. Hell we met while the wound was still wide open, but she stayed through that anyway and helped patch it up as much as she could.” 

“I really wish you were here to meet her.”

“I miss you. We all do.”

Standing up, Yunjin gives her arms and legs a stretch, brushing off the dirt and debris of her pants. Looking down at the stone slab engraved with your name, a beam of light shining off and blinding the girl through her glasses. She gives you a half hearted smile filled with bittersweet longing, tears still shining in the corners of her eyes.

“Thanks for being our friend, and thanks for listening to me today. It made me feel a whole lot better just talking to you. You were always good at that, lighting up someones day by just being there. No wonder Chae loves you so much.”

“I promise to try visit you more often when i can. Maybe i’ll bring Zuha to meet you too. I know youd want that and im sure shed like to meet you too, even if just once.”

“I wish you were still here.”

“Happy birthday Yn.”

A/N - First angst oneshot, hope its alright. Feedback would be appreciated if there is any :]

[fall0utmind]

CHAPTER 14

On AO3 here

Under the cut to read on tumblr -

If you missed my post after an ask- please catch up on the Dovquez alt ending ideas/ thoughts. It will be happening so if you have any burning desires lmk !!!

Lots of love to you all

A week later, they’re in Aragon. It’s been two weeks since Marc’s world fell to pieces at his feet; it feels like he’s still trying to piece it back together. He holds his head high as he enters the paddock. It is nice to be back in familiar territory, where the fans paint the stands red and Marc’s number is plastered everywhere. But there’s an uncomfortable awkwardness in the air like people don’t know how to act around him. Only the crew members and staff mill around the track on Thursdays. The fans will not be here until tomorrow; Marc wonders how they will react this weekend, especially considering the crowd tends to favour him more in Aragon compared to Misano.

Thankfully, his team welcomed him with open arms, instantly pulling him into rapid conversations about the break and race conditions for this weekend. It eases the tension Marc has subconsciously been holding.

Media day goes better than Marc expects. He strongly suspects someone has ordered the journalists to behave this weekend. He feels thankful; he isn’t sure he could do another weekend of strangers digging up his past. When the press conference ends without a hitch, Marc breathes a sigh of relief and has to restrain himself from bolting out the door. He wanders back to his motorhome alone, glad to be released from duties. He is tired and on edge. It feels like the ghost of the last weekend is haunting him as he walks through the paddock, echoing off the walls.

Thursdays are slower days at the track, time to settle in and make any last-minute changes. Marc tries to shake out of his weird headspace as he walks, reminders of the last race threatening to pull him under. His brain keeps jumping back to memories of the fans, of Valentino, and then he ends up down a rabbit hole of their kiss and fights, and the stupid podcast which he has watched at least 5 too many times.

Marc thinks Valentino is somewhere around, probably in the VR46 garage. He can’t remember if the other man usually comes to Aragon. He doesn’t think so. Marc wonders whether this was a deliberate move from Valentino, after Misano, or if it is just a coincidence. Things are starting to add up in his head, he just prays that he’s doing the right sums. He hopes Vale will be willing to talk soon – but he has hoped for decades to no avail.

He doesn’t notice the curious eyes following him as he makes his way down the pit lane.

The walk is quick, and he doesn’t waste any time once he reaches his motorhome. If he uses the track walk as a warm-up, he can probably do a decent run before he calls it a day. It will help him to clear his head too. He shrugs off his team polo and shorts, changing into athletic gear before heading back out. It will drive him insane if he sits down too much this weekend, getting lost in his thoughts. So, he ambles back to the garage, nodding at Fabio as he passes in the opposite direction.

Frankie is waiting for him on the garage’s threshold, calling over his shoulder to someone Marc can’t see. The other man smiles kindly when he notices Marc’s approach. He can’t help but smile back – he doesn’t think he would have managed last weekend without the constant reassuring atmosphere in the Gresini garage. His team have always been his grounding within the paddock, and he is thankful that he has managed to make a home within Gresini like the one he had at Honda. He hopes he will settle as well in Ducati.

They chat idly for a few minutes; Marc being pulled into their conversation about who would be the best rider out of the mechanics. It leaves him almost bent in half cackling as they debate why they would be better than each other – often for the most ridiculous reasons.

(They never agree on an answer)

(Marc doesn’t think he trusts any of them on the bike after that)

It makes Marc feel lighter, being surrounded by people who aren’t giving him looks or tiptoeing around him. It’s exactly what he needs, to be back here, to normality. The race track has always been a safe space for him (until Valentino ripped it away). He had just rebuilt his safety and confidence at the track when Jerez happened, sending him straight back to square one, and putting him in a hospital room for far too long. It happened again last weekend in Misano, the comfort in his home away from home being shattered before his eyes.

Sepang 2015

Jerez 2020

Misano 2024

He thinks that he either has terrible luck, or someone is out to get him. Either way, the past has shown him that he is nothing if not resilient – he can recover from this too.

A hand claps onto his shoulder and breaks him from his thoughts. He spins around on the spot, his lips quirking at Frankie’s gentle nudge. Once Marc nods, confirming that he is okay, the other man tilts his head towards the open garage door. Alex is in some last-minute meeting with his engineers and had waved him off earlier, suggesting they catch up later instead. They head out for the track walk in silence, Frankie close enough to bring comfort without feeling suffocating.

Up ahead, two figures are strolling out of the Ducati garage. Marc’s stomach sinks.  

Bez and Pecco.

The two Italians are deep in conversation, seemingly unaware of their surroundings or the fact that they are only 10 feet in front of Marc. From this distance, they look young, almost childlike in the way they grabble with each other and tease in lilting Italian. Marc reckons that Bezzecchi acts much like the younger brother of the group, but he hasn’t had enough experience to confirm it.

A smile creeps onto his face as Pecco swipes at the younger man, clearly wound up by whatever he’s saying. Bez spins away from him, grinning from ear to ear. His eyes catch Marc’s. His smile dims slightly and an unreadable expression clouds his features. Marc stumbles slightly as Bez turns back towards Pecco, mumbling something under his breath. Pecco glances back over his shoulder but Marc looks away first. They aren’t being subtle.

Marc covers his shock with a gasping cough when Bez stops, making eye contact with him and pulling Pecco aside- waiting. A part of him wants to turn and flee, only Frankie cautiously walking by his side keeps him going. He tilts his chin up despite the tension stiffening his frame, reminding himself that this might be a trap.

“How are you doing, Marc? " Pecco asks kindly once he is close enough. There is no insincerity in his voice, although Marc supposes that the academy boys usually don’t go out of their way to disguise their dislike.

Marc tries to rearrange his face into a smile and only partially succeeds, probably looking more like a grimace. Shaking off the residual awkwardness is proving difficult.

“Okay, thank you. I'm glad to be back in Spain. I'm looking forward to a friendlier reception,” he replies, grinning sharply as he reflects upon Italy. Interestingly, Bez’s face dims slightly while Pecco rolls his eyes.

“I think you did okay last race. I’m sure they will come around. How are you feeling about this track?” Pecco probes, shifting the conversation to something easier. The strain relaxes minutely.

From there, they fall into a rapid conversation about the race, this track, and the rest of the calendar. Bezzecchi chips in sporadically but spends most of his time analysing Marc as if trying to figure him out.

Frankie is nudging into his side as they walk the track, with Bez and Pecco’s teams also joining them. It’s odd, to be in such proximity to the others – he knows anyone watching will be instantly confused. He supposes that Pecco and him could be attributed to future teammate bonding. But Marc and Bez have never had much of a friendly relationship, it’s slightly earth-shattering.

They continue to amble around the track together, settling into an almost comfortable companionship. As they walk, Pecco tells Marc about their latest training story, which ended up with Bez, Luca, and Cele in a pile on the floor. Surprisingly, Marc finds himself laughing along with Bez and Pecco’s squabbling over which parts are true and which aren’t. He can almost imagine it, Bez pouting at the others in the way he is now, Luca trying to maintain diplomacy as Cele lies in the dirt. Marc barely notices the cameras on them and it seems like the others don’t either.

By the time they’ve looped the track, Marc is almost sad. It’s the most confusing feeling in the face of the situation. He never thought a time would come when he would be disappointed to be leaving their company. When they are alone again, the Italians calling goodbyes over their shoulders, Frankie tugs on Marc’s arm.

“What the fuck was that?” he asks, in utter disbelief, looking hysterically between the boys and Marc. It is such an accurate representation of how weird all of this is that he can’t help but bark out a laugh. He grins and shrugs back at Frankie. He has no clue whatsoever about what is going on, or why, but he can’t take the smile off his face for the rest of the day. If he was not so relieved, he would think it’s rather pathetic.

They duck into the garage together, Frankie pulling him into a quick goodbye bro hug before he treks off to do some actual work. Alex’s meeting is finished, by the looks of things. So, Marc makes it his mission to annoy his brother instead. He sits in the chair near his brother, spinning around in circles waiting for Alex to give him some attention. Eventually, he gets bored of that and starts aimlessly tapping on the desk, until Alex snaps and tells Marc that he will join the run.

Alex elbows him in the side as they set off, winding their way to the first turn from the pit lane.

“Why do you look like someone has done something wonderful?” he asks.

Marc’s smile only widens, chuckling at his brother’s dramatics. “Am I not allowed to be happy? That’s mean Alex”.

Alex scoffs, pushing his brother harder off the track and laughing when Marc actually stumbles this time. Underneath it all, he is happy for his brother, and he isn’t stupid, he knows that Marc has spent some time with Pecco and Bez this morning, he would be hard-pressed to have missed it with the way most people have been talking. After years of isolation, it is nice to see his older brother being accepted into the wider community again. He did not expect it to be caused by such dramatics, but he supposes at least there have been some positives. He is fonder now of Bagnaia, but the jury is still out on Bezzecchi – the younger man is too worshipping of Valentino to be trustworthy. But he keeps an open mind, it is not like all of them are bad. Franky, as it turns out, is wonderful, and Luca is a good guy. Alex doesn’t know the others too well but is willing to give it a shot if they are good to Marc.

Alex doesn’t think that Marc has noticed the way Rossi’s eyes are tracing them around the track. The old man thinks he is being subtle, talking to various people in the garage threshold coincidentally as the brothers are running down the pit straight. He rolls his eyes. At the very least, his and Franky’s plan has worked, and with their combined knowledge of Marc and Valentino, it was bound to do something, even if Marc hasn’t said much about Vale since last weekend. Alex won’t bring it up. It isn’t worth disturbing the peace.

They settle for one lap because even according to Marc, 5k is enough on a race weekend. When they loop back into the pits, Vale is still there, pretending to not look. Marc isn’t stupid, he knows that the older man is looking, but he also knows Valentino well enough to understand that he won’t speak.

When he catches Valentino's eyes, tipping his head minutely in greeting, he sees a gauntness in Vales's face. His eyes look red-rimmed, the bags underneath purple. He looks like he hasn’t slept in a month. Worry sweeps through Marc as he wonders what’s happened to make Valentino look like that. It's only when Alex tugs on his arm that Marc realises, he’s stopped still in the middle of the pits, Valentino and him standing and staring at each other.

He flushes, his embarrassment prominent, and allows Alex to lead him into the garage. He doesn’t catch Valentino's creased eyebrows and downturned lips.  

The rest of the day blurs slightly, thoughts of Vale consuming him. The media team make Alex and him do some silly video and they’re happy to oblige. Afterwards, he takes a call from a sponsor to discuss new brand deals. He’s swept along in a tide of things to do and places to be so by the time he’s done for the day he hardly remembers what happened earlier.

Alex and him grab food and eat in the comfort of the motorhome. Marc hasn’t felt much like facing the world recently. They’re halfway through their paella when Alex pushes his phone under Marc’s nose, a grin on his face. Marc takes it. On the screen Instagram is open, and the MotoGP account has posted a video. It’s Marc, Bez, and Pecco, laughing loudly at whatever had been said. Their happiness is clear in the video and as they walk, you can see Marc and Pecco's shoulders brushing.

Marc looks up, his brother's pleased face greeting him. He rolls his eyes, laughing to himself.

“Yes, yes. I know. They accosted me to a track walk; they are nicer than I realised” Marc laments. It makes Alex huff, rolling his eyes.

“Look at the comments” he requests, making Marc mutter “please” under his breath in admonishment. Alex looks at the heavens again but the way his lips tick up betrays him.

The comments range from pure disbelief to rage to happiness. Half of the fans make jokes about divorced kids and their mandated time with each parent. Marc has to admit it’s kind of funny, given at least Pecco was around when Marc and Vale fell out. A few of the comments are outraged that Pecco would associate himself with Marc, he doesn’t think those fans are going to survive next year.

As it turns out from further investigation. Social media has exploded, it has Marc giggling as he reads the posts from the fans. It is nice not to be hated for once. Of course, there are still the occasional negative comments but they seem to be fewer and farther between. He stumbles across a couple which makes him and Alex laugh so hard that they can barely breathe after. It’s refreshing, after so many years of tension.

He goes to sleep that night with hope singing in his heart.

*

The weekend could be a strong one for the team, especially at this track, he can feel it in his bones. But Marc never truly knows if the 2023 Gresini Ducati could throw up a curveball. It’s not a new model, so the other Ducati teams will always have the edge. He has the advantage of home turf but the challenge of last weekend hanging over him.

He doesn’t let it impede his confidence too much, determined to push the most out of the bike during practice.

And he does, topping the time sheets in a display of dominance that he didn’t think was possible this year. It settles somewhere in his chest, glowing warmly as he pulls the bike to a stop.

 Both of his parents are already waiting for him with open arms. They had arrived this morning, his mother fussing slightly over him and Alex before teaming up with Nadia to become matriarchs for the weekend. They have managed to hold back the fretting for the time being, but he can see the concern in his mum’s eyes when she hugs him, pressing her lips to the crown of his head.

 Since they arrived, Marc has felt a strange dichotomy of rising anxiety and a settling comfort in his parent's presence. There’s an odd sense of foreboding about his parents being here, the way they feel the need to protect him. He had to tell his mum quite firmly that he couldn’t skip media yesterday. Marc has a sneaking suspicion that she’s been staring down any journalist within a foot of him - God forbid if Valentino attempts anything.

Alas, they are determined to be here the whole weekend. And as his parents pull him into their arms, he feels endlessly grateful. Through it all his family have been a constant – with him even in his worst moments. He and Alex are lucky, he thinks. Some others do not have the blessings which they do. Another pair of arms join the hug – Alex. When he pulls away, his baby brother is beaming at him. Marc smiles back, bathing in his family’s affection for some time longer.

Soon enough, Marc is dragged away to debrief with the team, happy to talk through the ways they could improve to drag the milliseconds out of every corner and achieve the blistering speed they need down the straights. The team are in good spirits, Alex has put in some quick laps too, meaning that both bikes are in the top 5. Marc knows the energy tomorrow will be electric. There’s a lot of potential.

Debrief is blissfully short, giving them both plenty of time to spend with their family in the evening. By the time they have finished in the garage and are wandering back to the motorhome, their parents have somehow made all the dinner plans at some place close to their hotel. Although this is considered a ‘local’ race for them, the drive is still over two hours. And the motorhome doesn’t quite fit 4 adults in it.

As he and Alex are cleaning up and getting ready, Marc is beginning to feel nervous about the interview release. Without the distraction of practice and racing, there are a thousand questions and worries floating around his head- what if he said too much? What if people think he’s weak or attention-seeking?

The thoughts keep rising over dinner, like an inevitable and colossal tidal wave. Marc knows he’s being quieter than usual, choked by fear. His family notices, trying all they can to distract him. They won’t let him sit out of any conversations, even when he only gives one-word answers. Alex keeps his arm resting next to Marc throughout the whole meal.

Marc refrains from checking his phone, or more Alex steals it from his pocket and turns it off. Once they’re outside of the restaurant, Alex returns it and Marc turns it on with no small amount of trepidation.

It instantly floods with messages. He trails his eyes across the notifications, reading word after word of positivity. There is an overwhelming number of supportive messages from friends and colleagues alike. A quick look online suggests that the reaction from the fans is overwhelmingly positive too, which is a relief.

Marc has to admit that they did a fantastic job with it, the editing and production of the video tiptoes the fine line between professional and personable. It feels good to have it out in the open, knowing there isn’t some big secret hanging over him. Being able to tell the story from his own narrative and not someone else’s lies feels like a weight lifted.

There are plans for him to team up with some mental health charities, and maybe even become an ambassador. Marc needs to make something good of this. The team was a little reluctant at first but Marc insisted. If everyone has to know his story, then he wants it to be one of positivity and recovery. It isn’t often that he gets the choice to be a part of things that truly matter to him, so he isn’t letting this one go.

It was a good choice. He’s proud of himself and his family all pull him into tight hugs and whisper that they are too. He ignores the rude comments, the ignorance, and the blind hatred and sinks into his parents’ arms like he is a child once more.

At that moment, somewhere in the north of Spain, on a warm summer night with the stars coming out above him. Marc Marquez forgives himself for all that he has done, he lets go of his past and pledges to keep pushing forward, no matter what.

[partynthem]

anyway. it’s been a rough week

[milo-is-rambling]

I forget how much I hate the taste of vodka but the whipped cream vodka is so much better my god

[cesium-sheep]

ah shit that's part of why it's so fuckin hard. not only is the trauma of chronic illness inherently tied to the trauma of military service for me, it's also just. I've been too fucking sick to think about it. not just the past couple years, for a very long time. and I had to tear down into all of that today.

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[lamefish]

kento nanami is an anniversary man. nsfw

you think it's sweet, how he has the date of big events in his life on memory. when it's a loss, he'll take the day off to remember, with his head in your lap as he tells stories of whomever has passed. you listen intently, ask questions about them and watch as your husband recounts every good thing about a person.

he celebrates the good, too. almost excessively. the date you met is circled on the calendar, and kento will wake you up with breakfast in bed and a day of doting to show you just how important this anniversary is to him. you turned his world upside down in the best of ways, and what kind of man is he if not one to celebrate the light in his life?

of course, your wedding anniversary too. it's the one he goes all out for: more often than not you put a weekend aside to take a trip and spend some uninterrupted time together. you'll act as newlyweds again, because you still feel like newlyweds despite the passing years, and you'll be reminded over and over just how lucky you are to have found your soulmate in a man like kento nanami.

a man who is sentimental, and so very in love with you. and also celebrates the first time you had sex.

that first year, he had spent the day doting on you so profusely that you were convinced he was going to propose. he was pulling out all of the stops, taking you out fopr an expensive meal, dosing you with fine wines and so many kisses you could get drunk off the taste of him alone. he took you home, ran you a scented bath and took care of the house while you relaxed.

and of course the night ended in mind blowing sex—as your nights usually do. he had insisted on fucking you in missionary despite his recent penchant for taking you from behind and, once he has ripped two orgasms from you and was working on your third, he let it slip.

“we made love for the first time a year ago today,” he whispers against your lips, cock pulsing inside of you as he reaches deep inside of you. “just like this—looking into each others eyes, three orgasms from you, two from me. fell in love with you that night, do you know that honey?”

“you kept track of the day?” you cant finish your sentence without a moan breaking from your throat. “kento, you’re something else.”

“of course i did. it’s an important date, reaching such intimacies—feeling these beautiful velvet walls of yours for the first time… i’ll never forget it.”

you laugh, though it’s quickly swallowed by a kiss from your lover. he rocks his hips into you, feels every inch of his veiny cock disappear inside. he looks down to watch himself sink into you, though his gaze his brought back when you speak.

“three.”

kento blinks. “three what?”

“orgasms from you. you said you had two, but you came a third time right at the end—i milked you dry and you were so sex-drunk and exhausted but you insisted on making me food.” you reach down and grab his hand, the one that had been cupping at your chest, and hold it up for him to see the gentle scar that runs across his thumb. “you cut yourself slicing the bread because i fucked you mindless.”

it comes back to him in gentle flashes. you had, in fact, milked him of a third release. he had just been so out of his mind with nerves and pleasure that the memory had washed itself clean from his mind. he scolds himself mentally for ever daring to forget a detail about being intimate with you, but smiles.

“i remember,” he says. “you told me sex made you hungry so i wanted to incorporate it into your aftercare…”

“silly man,” you wrap your legs around his waist and lick your ankles behind him. with a gentle nudge, he’s forced that tiny bit deeper inside of you. “my silly man.”

kento moans—his eyes flutter shut and his lips catch between his teeth. he adores you—he really does. so much so that the sheer memory of his first time with you is quickly becoming too powerful of a memory to have.

and you, his beautiful other half, laid beneath him with lustful eyes and parted lips, smile up at him. “are we recreating our first time, ken? is that what this is?”

he nods, a little wordless as he tries to keep his mind straight.

“then i think you know what i’m going to do to you, my love.”

he smiles. “milk me for all i have. it’s all yours anyways.”

you lean up and kiss him. it’s slow, gentle, like your first kiss with him was. you taste him wholly on your lips and thank all the divine beings that may exist for putting such a man in your life’s trajectory. his cock twitches inside of you, he fills you out so perfectly.

still, you smile as you roll your hips up to meet his. “just let me handle the aftercare this time.”