#three days after my birthday but hush

[aceofspades-sml]

Giggling kicking my feet I just booked newsies tickets for my birthday with my friend I'm so excited

[saerins]

ᯓ ᝰ CRAZY GOOD .ᐟ — itoshi sae

hold up, netizens. you’re in for a treat this time because guess what? out of all people, it’s time for itoshi sae to hard launch his girlfriend: you.

itoshi sae x female reader. content tags pro-player!sae, established relationship, profanity, kissing, kind of a tease here, he likes showing you off, oliver is the matchmaker. word count 1.5k

ᯓ notes .ᐟ hi guys i finally have some sae content for you all !!! >:) yes i’ve missed him , and no i didn’t abandon him :’) heh i hope all my sae lovers that are still here will like this mwah <3

there are many things that itoshi sae is good at.

soccer skills, one of them. snubbing people, the second. (that’s how he got the reputation of being rude—even if it’s not really true!) and three, not last and not least (but still substantially), it’s causing a buzz.

he caused a buzz the moment he debuted on the soccer field. his first game and he already made a name for himself. people started asking where he’d been his whole life (even if he was introduced to the people very early on), equating him to soccer megastars like cristiano ronaldo.

ever since that day, he’d been caught in the spotlight numerous times. mostly related to soccer, but some due to his personal life. more specifically, the media loves to take a guess on who he’s dating.

yeah, he’s had more than his fair share of dating rumours. if it were up to the media, sae would have had about thirty-four girlfriends by now and he’s only twenty-six this year. (go fish!)

but as many people do, almost everyone who consumes media content about sae is particularly interested in one thing that is shrouded in mystery: his dating life.

because despite all the rumours and whatnot, there’s never been any confirmation of any relationships at all. and no one in his circle has ever coughed anything up, so anything in that regard has been strictly hush-hush.

well, until tonight, when your boyfriend of six months invited you to one of his teammates’ high-profile birthday party.

“what, are you nervous?”

your boyfriend’s ever unbothered tone is still the same as when you first heard it a year ago. somehow you find it funny that one year later you’re living with the same guy you’d first found to be somewhat intolerable.

sighing, you try and zip up the back of your dress, looking into the mirror, making sure you have your best face on. “sae, you have fans that number in the millions, of course i’m nervous,” you comment, watching from the reflection in the mirror as sae saunters over to you, taking his hands out of his pocket.

he smirks at you through the mirror, his body pressed against you as he helps you zip your dress the rest of the way up, his lips right next to your ear. “i’ve never even seen you this nervous in front of me,” he says, poking a little fun at you as he gives you a light kiss on your temple.

a soft chuckle comes from him as you deadpan, obviously in much more distress than he’ll ever know. not that he’ll blame you; he’s used to the fame, you’re not. “relax, they’ll love you.”

“sae, they won’t.”

he shrugs. “yeah, you’re probably right,” he agrees, earning a small slap on the arm—and he’s laughing again, though this time he tilts your chin up and gives you a long, slow kiss. the kind that takes your breath away everytime he does it. “but who cares? i love you.”

and there he goes, saying that as if it’s no big deal. making your heart beat so quickly it’s not funny. and before you know it, he’s whisking you away into the lobby where a personal towncar is ready and waiting, with the chauffeur and everything.

“geez, oliver sure loves to go over the top, huh?”

sae gives a sharp exhale at your comment. “hey, that’s your friend right there.”

you roll your eyes, getting in first and sticking your tongue out at him. “and you should be thanking him, without him we’d never have met.”

you look away from him right after saying that so you don’t see it, but sae’s smiling to himself, already thanking his lucky stars.

he thinks meeting you and getting to love you is the luckiest he’ll ever get in this lifetime.

by the time you’ve arrived at the venue—a hotel in the heart of the city—swarms of paparazzi already litter the streets outside. they’ve no doubt had their fill of the other soccer players and mega celebrities that have already arrived and are now ready for the real star of the night (aside from the birthday boy himself): itoshi sae.

of course, everyone’s expecting to see sae all by himself because that’s what usually happens; sae attending any and every event alone and unbothered by the scene. it’s never a surprise anymore, but sae’s a good payday and they’d never miss a single shot.

the moment sae exits the car, it sounds like there’s a million shutters pressed all at the same time, give or take a few milliseconds. (it’s nothing you’re used to.) he stands right where he got out for a few seconds, and even inside you can hear the amount of photographers just begging sae to look straight at them.

and if you think that’s rowdy enough, oh boy you’re in for a treat. because the moment the paparazzi realise that sae’s not, in fact, headed for the hotel just yet, you can hear just a few confused noises before it turns into even more pleading the moment they realise he’s opening your side of the door.

when he opens it and holds his hand out for you, that ever handsome smile on his face (which you forget that he only ever shows to you), you feel like you’re nearly blinded by all the flashes. you brave through it though, taking his hand and getting out of the town car, being greeted by the mass of photographers yelling out to you and sae.

“sae, who is that!”

“hey, girl! look over here! yes right there!”

“what’s your relationship?”

“obviously that’s his girlfriend! hey you!”

you’re a little wide-eyed, stunned at how chaotic this scene is. it’s easy to lose yourself in it, but as it always is, sae realises it whenever you are, and he’s quick to pull you back in.

in this case, he pulls you into his arms, a hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you close as he rests his forehead against yours.

“hey, focus on me, just me,” he whispers to you, eyes looking into yours, eyelashes fluttering against one another’s.

(the paparazzi are having a field day.)

“you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you ask him, chuckling because you only now realise what a fucking tease he is.

sae shrugs, pulling your hair away from your face. (he’s actually just really grateful to you for doing this for him when you don’t need to—when you’re happy to just be able to support him behind the scenes but he really just wants the world to know that you exist, because it’s a blessing, really.) “maybe i am.”

and this time your heart’s beating faster than you know it ever could, his teal blue eyes melting into your gaze, lips getting closer and closer to your own, his calloused hand on the back of your neck.

like clockwork, his lips sink into yours, his tongue snaking its way in. (and the crowd goes absolutely wild.) you’re both laughing at the panicked and hurried yells from the photographers, slowly pulling away from each other.

you reach your hand out to wipe your lipstick stain off his lips but he doesn’t let you, winking at you and leaning in to whisper, “let everyone know who i belong to.”

such a fucking tease.

not that you’re opposed, so you let him be, shaking your head and following him as he holds your hand and leads you in.

within the next hour, pictures of you and sae flood the internet. (notifications come flooding into your phone too.)

itoshi sae hard launches new relationship with mystery woman!

soccer world loses another bachelor—everything we know about itoshi sae’s presumed girlfriend

most of them are pictures of your kiss, with a good chunk of it being his lipstick-stained lips.

as you scroll through some of the articles your friends texted to you, you’re probably never going to be used to it. you’re probably going to be anxious over everything you do in public now.

a slight panic bubbles up in your chest, but then sae comes over, pulling you backwards into his embrace, looking over your shoulder at your phone.

“that quick, huh?”

and suddenly it’s like anxiety has never existed. because even if it may not seem like much, a year of knowing itoshi sae has made you feel safer than you ever did, knowing that he’s always there to catch you, to never make you feel alone.

you melt into his embrace, turning your head and giving him a kiss, your lipstick stain still on his lips.

“i fucking love you, itoshi sae.”

his eyes widen a little before they grow soft, arms pulling you even closer. “i love you too, stupid.”

(and while the two of you are getting all lovey-dovey at his party, oliver’s just slightly—a lot—upset that sae upstaged him during his own birthday party.)

“i fucking hate the both of you,” oliver groans.

[coff33andb00ks]

Hazy Days - LN

summary: summer fling, don't mean a thing pairing: lando norris x divorced!reader word count: 3.6k warnings: non-explicit smut (mdni), older woman a.n.: fuck quadrant's summer scope vids song: summer nights from Grease

You're doing it again. It's been over a year now and you're still rubbing your ring finger with your thumb. You're not as quite as surprised when you don't feel the rings, and when you look down you're relieved to see that the pale patch of skin has disappeared. I've got to buy a ring, you think. Because, despite everything, you still feel weird without a ring on that finger.

You give your head a shake. The marriage is over. It was over before it officially began, but the divorce has been finalized for almost a month. The settlement is in your account – it's how you're paying for this spontaneous trip.

You're no longer a married woman. A terrifying thought, even now, when your entire identity for nearly 10 years was wife. And now…

Now you don't know what you are.

So you packed a bag, bought a plane ticket on a whim, and now you're at some seaside hotel in the south of France. You're looking out at the people on the beach, and further out at the yachts dotting the Mediterranean.

A place you've always wanted to visit and now you're frozen in the hotel room, scared to death that you won't enjoy it. Like a decadent dessert you've thought about all day that tastes like an old candy bar when you finally get a bite. Like the new Louboutin pumps you'd wanted for your birthday two years ago that had pinched your toes and you haven't worn since.

You've built this up in your head and now you're afraid it won't live up to your expectations.

Babes, enjoy it. This is gonna be so healing for you.

Your best friend's words ring in your mind and you reach for the phone to call her for more reassurance, then remember the time difference. She loves you, but she won't appreciate a phone call this early unless it's an emergency.

"God, get over it. You're not the only newly divorced woman in the world," you mutter to yourself, turning away from the window to finish dressing. You want to do some exploring, get plenty of photos to share, maybe find a few souvenirs.

Your thumb slides over your ring finger as you exit the hotel a little while later and you sigh, turning back to ask the concierge of a nice jewelry store. When you tell him you're interested in purchasing a ring, he knows the perfect place and soon you're on your way, strolling along the winding streets.

The afternoon sun is hot and you breathe a sigh of relief once you step into the shop. The interior or hushed and you're aware of the clerks' eyes all moving to you. A couple young men at the counter are chatting and laughing, not paying attention to you at all, and you venture further into the shop.

The men are looking at bracelets, and a smartly dressed clerk is more than happy to show you the rings, leading you to a low counter and inviting you to sit in the cushioned chair.

"Oh… No, not anything like a wedding or engagement ring," you say as a tray of sparkling diamond rings is brought out. "I… I recently got divorced and I need something to replace my rings. Something that looks nothing like a wedding ring?"

From behind you, you can hear the two men murmuring, their English accents oddly comforting after three days of hearing only French voices. You finally narrow the selection down to two and are trying to decide when movement out the corner of your eye snags your attention.

It's one of the men, peering at necklaces. You steal a glance at him – handsome, well dressed, a head of dark curls – and look back at the rings when he turns his head, embarrassed to be caught looking.

You're focusing on the rings, trying them on and testing out how they feel against your thumb, when he speaks.

"I think the other one looks better."

Jerking your head up, you find yourself looking into a pair of brilliant green eyes.

It's so fucking unfair that his lashes are so pretty.

"Do you?" you ask, looking back at the rings.

"Yeah – unless you want something flashy?"

He's moved close enough you can smell his cologne.

He even smells divine. So fucking unfair.

You switched rings and nodded. "Flashy isn't really me… I'll take this one," you tell the clerk.

The man smiles. "Getting used to a ring?"

"Ah… No," you chuckle. "Can't get used to not having one."

His smile dies and a look of panic flashes over his face. "Um… Sorry?"

You almost laugh. Giving your head a shake, you watch the clerk wrap the ring and wait for her to return. "Don't be."

"Oh," he murmured, smile returning and sliding into a grin. "Congratulations, then."

This time you do laugh. "Thanks."

He gives you a look as the clerk returns, and before you can reach for your wallet he's already handing over his card. You open your mouth to protest but he tips his head. "A congratulations gift," he insists.

His friend approaches, giving you a friendly nod. "What are we congratulating?"

You smile weakly. "The end of my marriage."

"Divorce?" he asks. When you nod, he smirks. "The best thing about marriage, honestly."

"Max."

"What am I supposed to say?" Max protests, holding up his hands.

The first man groans. "You're such a – cheers," he says when the clerk brings his card back. "Let's go before you embarrass me even more."

You're smiling at their banter as you thank the clerk for her assistance. When you stand to make your way out, he's waiting near the door.

"Buy you a drink?" he offers as he opens the door for you.

His name is Lando. Max – pain in my ass – is obviously his best friend and doesn't join you for drinks as he's got to get packed up to leave. When you suggested Lando spend time with him before he goes home, Lando waved it off.

"He lives in England but I see him all the time."

Lando, it turns out, does not live in England. He looks almost embarrassed when you ask where he lives, and when he finally mutters that he lives in Monaco your eyes widen. Surely he's too young to be that well off?

Trust fund, probably. Now you don't feel so bad for his paying for the ring.

"That must be… Interesting," you say, taking a sip of your drink. He's brought you to a chic bar at the beach, and you're sitting on the upper terrace, the slowly sinking sun casting a golden glow over the water.

"I don't really get much time there." He fiddles with the stirrer in his drink. "I'm gone a lot."

Interest piqued, you set your glass down. "Oh?" Maybe he's a model, even if he is a little on the short side. Not that he's that short – he's definitely taller than you. "What do you do?"

"I drive cars." He ducks his head briefly. "Racecars."

"Really? I'm not… I'm a dumb American, the only racing I really know is the Indy 500?"

He laughs, shaking his head. "That's IndyCar."

You listen, fascinated, as he tells you about formula one, which you have heard about but it's not in your orbit. He seems both relieved and amused at the fact you're not into sports, and you can feel him relax as he laughs when you tell him you only watch the Super Bowl every year so you can eat a ton of junk food.

A drink turns into a few, and he's so nice to listen to, so easy to talk to. When he suggests dinner, you hesitate. You don't want to be that woman, newly divorced and falling into bed with the first man that looks at you. Especially one so young—

"How old are you?" you blurt.

It obviously surprises him and, though he was halfway out of his seat he sank back down. "How old are you?"

You refuse to play coy, to fish for compliments like you're desperate. "I'm thirty."

His eyebrows lift. "Twenty-four."

So not that young. More like… younger.

Lando gives you a smile. "Does that cancel dinner?"

You look into his eyes for a long moment then glance out at the view. There's an obvious fork in the road in front of you. One leads to something with this handsome racecar driver, and you have a feeling it's going to be more than dinner. The other leads to the rest of your solo vacation, with the cloud of what could be lingering. Looking at him again, you slowly breathe in.

Expensive cologne. Salt air.

"I'd love dinner," you say, and his smile rivals the setting sun.

You'll never be able to describe the meal you ate. Lando makes it nearly impossible to focus on anything but him. Not in a demanding way. He's just… Magnetic. He tells you stories about his career, about embarrassing moments and highs and lows and talks about his other ventures. How does he have time to sleep? He talks glowingly about Max and has you giggling into your wine over a story of the two of them getting into trouble that left Lando locked out of his parents' home. When he apologizes for talking so much you almost beg him to not stop. But he asks about you, and you can't help thinking he seems genuinely interested.

"My life isn't half as interesting as yours," you say with a shake of your head.

"I don't know… You're divorced, halfway around the world, having dinner with a strange guy. Seems interesting to me," he murmurs.

"Oh, it's a tale as old as time. Girl meets boy, girl falls in love and gives up everything… Girl becomes a woman, boy becomes a toad."

Lando winced. "No kissing to turn him into a prince?"

"He'd have to want the kiss for that to happen."

"What a fucking idiot," Lando says.

You tilt your head to the side. "For being a toad?"

"For not wanting your kiss."

You set your glass down with a surprised gulp. About to call him out for feeding you a line, you pause, seeing the glimmer in his eyes. Without thinking you lick your lips and see his gaze dip down briefly. You don't know what to say or how to react so you sit there, unable to refrain from thinking about how a kiss from Lando would feel.

"His loss." Lando's voice was barely above a murmur. Then, shockingly, his cheeks darken and his tongue darts over his lips. He looks down at his plate and you can hear his sigh before he looks up, his expression serious. "You gave up everything?"

"A slight exaggeration, really." You shrug, picking at your food. "I had dreams that I put on hold to help him achieve his."

"I've never been married. But, like…" He sighs, setting his fork down. "That doesn't seem fair?"

"Life isn't—"

"I know, but marriage isn't life is it?" His face screws up at that but he forges ahead. "Isn't the whole point of it to support and help each other achieve their dreams?"

Smiling sadly, you nod. "I thought it was. He thought different."

"What dreams did you put on hold?" he asks after a moment.

"I wanted to get published." You look down at your half-eaten food. "When I was a kid, I loved reading and making up stories… I was studying for my degree in English – I planned to teach writing while working on my novels, because it's hard to make money doing it at first, and… Now it's too late."

"Why do you say that?"

"I'd have to go back to school and—"

"Yeah? Would you have to start over completely?"

"No." You can't remember how many credit hours you have left, but it would only take a phone call or an email to find out. "I wasn't too far from my degree."

"Then what's stopping you?" he challenged softly.

You don't have an answer. Nothing but the fear of failing, and you don't know him well enough to admit that.

"I don't read." He winces a bit at the admission. "Dyslexic, yeah? It's a miracle I finished school. But anyway. You write a novel and I promise to read it."

A smile pulls at your lips. "You'd do that for me? Someone you don't even know?"

"Of course." He grins. "I believe in supporting the arts."

He drives you back to the hotel in his sleek sportscar and for once you understand the allure of a purring engine and soft leather seats. There's no impending pressure when he offers to see you to your room, only the heat of his hand at the small of your back and the enticing scent of his cologne.

At your door, he hesitates. "Can I kiss you?"

Has anyone ever asked your consent for a kiss? You don't think so and the realization makes you sad, but you push that away because you've wanted him to kiss you since halfway through dinner.

His lips are a lighted match to kindling. The heat and desire are immediate and you're leaning into him, frightened by the strength of your want but craving more. It's been an embarrassingly long time since you've felt this way and you're aware that it may be even longer before you feel it again. So when the door finally clicks open you don't hesitate to step inside, pausing and reluctantly breaking the kiss to look up at him.

And wish you'd googled how to invite a man into your hotel room without sounding desperate.

But you don't have to ask.

"Okay to come in?" he whispers.

"God yes," you gasp.

His lips are on yours before the door closes behind him. Wrapping your arms around him, you sink into the kiss, snatching in breaths as his hands cradle your head. A soft whine is muffled against his tongue as you grip the front of his shirt, knees nearly forgotten as the tenderness of his touch wars the ferocity of his kiss.

"Fuck," he mumbles against your lips, his hands beginning to wander, molding you closer against him, his breath hitching as he clutches your hips. He pulls his head back slightly and you can feel his harsh breathing as he stares at you before crashing his lips to yours again.

The need grows stronger, almost primal, and you're backing towards the bed, gasping as his hands pull at your dress, nearly ripping it. Craving the feel of his skin, you do the same to his shirt, barely noticing the trail of clothing on the floor, too focused on his touch and his smell and the decadence of his kiss. He guides you down, swallowing your gasp as your bare skin touches the cool sheets.

Breaking the kiss with a harsh moan, he braces his hands on either side of you and lifts up slightly. He's panting, lips parted, and he gives a soft chuckle of surprise. "I didn't plan on this."

You lick your lips, still tasting him. And only craving more. "Neither did I."

He blinks, eyes almost wild as they dart from yours to your lips and back again. And all you can think—

Beautiful. Breathtakingly so. You know it'll never happen but the romantic inside you wishes you could wake up to his eyes every morning.

He leans down, and his kiss sends every coherent thought away. His skin is warm beneath your fingers, his hair softer than you thought it would be. His hands are rough but gentle at the same time, in your hair and trailing down your sides. Your name is a longing moan vibrating against your throat as you trace the muscles of his back.

"Lando," you gasp, arching beneath him.

"I know… I know." Hot breath at your ear, fingers digging into your thigh. Guiding your leg over his hip.

"Please." It's a soft moan.

"Fuck." His lips move to yours, his gasping whimper muffled.

The frantic need is still there but he's unhurried, as though he's trying to memorize every breath, every touch. When your hand flies out to grasp the sheet his hand follows, fingers threading between yours and gripping tightly. You're lost in the haze, sweat forming between you, sheets twisting. Ecstasy rises, peaks, and it's so sudden and delicious your cries ring out.

"Y/n." A desperate whine that only increases the bliss.

Rolling, twisting, arching. It's feverish and needy and so good so so good.

You both collapse, your hands in his sweat-damp hair. Panting, tingling, you wait for the awkwardness that never comes. His touch is tender, his lips gentle on yours before he's pulling away, murmuring that he'll get a towel. He's back before you can catch your breath, and by the time you can breathe he's kissing you again.

The sky outside is turning gray when you both breathlessly agree to get some sleep. You half expect him to leave, but he's there when you wake up, sleeping on his stomach next to you, his arm slung across your waist, his gentle snores telling you he's fast asleep.

And though you distinctly remember him saying he was going back to Monaco that day, he sticks around. Blushes and shrugs when you ask him about it over lunch, then suggests borrowing a friend's yacht for the night. The days bleed into the nights, a blurred span of time of sightseeing, swimming, and Lando.

When it's time for you to pack up to go home you feel a little bereft. But the vacation can't last forever. You've got to go back to real life, figure out how you'll live as a completely free woman. And he's got to get back to his life, jetting around the world and undoubtedly breaking hearts.

You exchange numbers and he promises to keep in touch, but you know you'll be forgotten before your plane takes off. You've been a pleasant distraction for his summer break, nothing more.

You're about to board when your phone buzzes with an incoming text. From Lando.

- You dropped your ring in my car.

As you stare at the words, you realize you haven't rubbed your ring finger in nearly a week. A picture appears on the screen, the ring – that he bought – resting in his palm.

- Hold onto it for me?

He won't. He'll give it away or sell it or take it back to the shop.

But, when you're back home and have exchanged texts with him and even a couple phone calls – yes I promise I contacted an advisor, I'm signing up for classes – and he lets you know his break is over and he's getting back to work, you cave and pull up footage of him in an interview.

He looks different on the screen of your laptop. Good, but different. And you can only focus on the necklace that's just visible under his (hideous really) orange shirt. When he leans, it shifts, and you see it.

Your ring.

"Are you still hung up on her?"

Lando's head snaps up at Max's question. "What?"

His friend gestures to the phone in Lando's hand. "That American?"

He feels his cheeks heat and realizes Max knows he's looking at your Instagram. "I'm not hung up."

Max just looks at him.

"I'm just checking on her," he mutters.

With a sigh, Max softens and sits next to him. "It's okay to like her, you know."

He huffs, his hand reaching to fiddle with the ring on his necklace. "She was just supposed to be a fling."

"But she wasn't," Max says after a moment.

Lando shakes his head. "I don't know," he whispers.

Silence lingers, stretches as his thumb hovers over your most recent post.

Then, softly. "Am I stupid?"

Max shoots him a look.

"For thinking it was special," he adds before his friend can insult him. "For thinking she thinks it was special."

"Was it special?"

He swallows hard, rolling the ring between his fingers as he looks at the post, a photo of a cup of coffee next to a laptop. Up past my bedtime parsing Austen. Liking it, he closes the app and locks his phone.

Was it special? Or was it just the great sex and no strings that had him thinking it was? At first, in those days immediately after you'd left, he'd only thought about the sex. How freeing it had been, knowing he wouldn't see you again and could let inhibitions go. But with each week that passed the sex wasn't the only thing he thought about.

Laughter and sunshine. Salty air and sweet conversation. Honeyed voice and understanding eyes.

He lifts his head, meeting Max's eyes. He doesn't have to say it. Max has known him for more than half his life. But he answers.

"Yes."

Taglist:

@maxlarens | @driverlando | @leodette | @forzalando | @captainreecejames | @d3kstar | @frenchyjuju | @irishmanwhore | @warrensluvr | @tpwkstiles | @mcmuppet | @eveninggstar | @noooway555 | @bookishnerd1132 | @skeleton-elly | @trisharee | @littlegrapejuice

[vivwritesfics]

Heyy, i would like to make an request. Could you write fic about lestappen x reader where they’re are soulmates. (You don’t have to) Charles and Max are already in an established relationship and they meet the reader but max doesn’t want her because he is happy with Charles and reader hears Max talk bad about her like i don’t want her, we don’t need her etc. So she distances hersef from them but they regret it and want her back? With happy ending pls 🫣 Sorry, I hope you understood what I meant.. English is not my first language ☺️

Max Verstappen couldn't be happier. At twenty five, he found his soulmate (when I say found, Charles had been there all along. They just didn't realise they were soulmates until they turned twenty five).

Here they were, two years later. Everything for Max had been perfect. He thought it had been perfect for Charles, too.

He didn't realise Charles felt like there was something missing.

He couldn't explain it. When he realised Max was his soulmate, his heart had felt so damn full. He was overjoyed, and they didn't stop kissing for around a week.

But that empty feeling soon filled Charles. Something was missing. There was a fist sized hole in his heart that he didn't know how to fill.

Of course, she had to work for Red Bull. She walked in on the day of her twenty fifth birthday and immediately caught Max's eye. Like magnets, the two were drawn to each other. All through the day, and Max couldn't explain it. But then he found out it was her birthday.

He disappeared out of the Red Bull garage, and she dropped to the floor.

It was distressing, to have your soulmate ripped away from you for a critical few hours after you've found them. She gasped for air as tears ran down her cheeks, blurring her vision.

She couldn't help it, couldn't stop it if she wanted to.

And then, twenty minutes after Max ran off to the Ferrari garage, she passed out.

***

"I never wanted another soulmate, Charlie," came a hushed voice.

"Well, she's not just your soulmate." This one was closer, as if the person was sitting right beside her.

There was a pause, maybe the person was gesturing. "Do you know how rare three person soulmate groups are?" The first person pressed on. "Why did it have to be us."

"Get over it, Max," the second person snapped.

Max. Max Verstappen. Her soulmate.

"She's our girl, now. Besides, didn't it ever feel like something was missing? A missing piece of the puzzle?"

There was a moment, and then a sound. A door slamming as somebody left the room. "It's okay, Ma belle. He'll come around." Gentle fingers combed through her hair. Charles, it had to be. Max's original soulmate, and now hers, too.

She pretended to be asleep for just a moment longer, basking in the safety his touch provided

[gallifreyanhotfive]

What Stories Are About the Academy Era? A Guide

@zombies-sold-cheap

Context:

Stories set in the Academy Era/Otherwise Early Days are sparse to say the least (even Divided Loyalties only shows you the Academy through a dream), but you can actually piece together a pretty decent chunk of the Doctor’s early life (while it still remaining very mysterious) using the Expanded Universe. I've done a lot of infodumping in my time, so I'll do my best here by typing up my personal reference guide to this era. Anyway:

Theta Sigma and his friends would attempt to climb Mount Cadon. At the peak, you could apparently see all of time, but they never got to the top because of hallucinogenic snow. While attempting such a climb, Vansell broke his leg, and Theta Sigma fixed it with a time bubble he made from a sonic wrench and some twine. (Audio: Devil in the Mist)

Theta Sigma and Koschei traveled into the past of Gallifrey in search of Valdemar. Theta was horrified by the power that Valdemar represented, but Koschei was intrigued. (Novel: Tomb of Valdemar)

Theta Sigma time-locked his dorm room so thoroughly that even centuries after he graduated they hadn't managed to undo it. (Audio: Time in Office)

Theta Sigma also once used the food machine to get mercury for his own science projects and in doing so almost caused his professor to regenerate. (Audio: Time in Office)

At some point, Theta Sigma and Koschei traveled to the planet Machasma and used sonic agitation to get them out of trouble. (Audio: Darkness and Light)

Theta Sigma, Koschei, and three others were part of a band called the Gallifrey Academy Hot Five (see: my username). Theta Sigma played the perigosto sticks, and Koschei played the drums. (Novel: Deadly Reunion)

Millennia came from a wealthy family and was gifted in temporal engineering. She and Rallon had a "thing" for each other (wink wink) (Novel: Divided Loyalties)

Theta Sigma once made High Tutor Albrecht regenerate in an incident involving a perigosto stick and a temporal feedback loop. He was reprimanded by Borusa for this. (Novel: The Time Lord Letters)

Koschei was obsessed with the Necronomicon. (Short story: The Nameless City)

Runcible was the hall monitor at the Academy and regularly got into conflicts with the Deca because it was his job to make sure students were in bed after dark. They have mutual hatred of each other. (Novel: Divided Loyalties)

Indeed, the Master would one day stab him in the back and kill him. (Television: The Deadly Assassin)

Drax built a skimmer and would sometimes use it to take Jelpax home because they lived close to each other. (Novel: Divided Loyalties)

Theta Sigma attended Ushas's 94th birthday party. (Novel: The Death of Art)

Theta Sigma engineered a dangerous bacteria that rendered all multicellular life that came in contact with it comatose. This was a huge scandal on Gallifrey, and the Academy thoroughly hushed it up and had all samples destroyed. However, Ushas kept a sample and would one day use it in a scheme as the Rani. (Audio: Planet of the Rani)

Koschei taught Theta Sigma hypnosis. He'd also hypnotize others a lot because he thought it was amusing. (Novel: The Dark Path)

Mortimus once asked Ushas out but was so thoroughly rejected that he thought she wasn't interested in dating at all. Unbeknownst to him, Ushas later had a relationship with Magnus. (Novel: Divided Loyalties)

Theta Sigma and Koschei were bullied by Torvic. Theta was eventually forced to kill Torvic to save Koschei's life, but when Death came to offer Theta to be their disciple, he had Koschei take his place. He forgot about this deal and lived for centuries under the impression that their places had been swapped and that it had been Koschei to kill Torvic. (Audio: Master)

Despite this, he apparently drew pictures of Torvic in his diary. (Short story: The Three Paths)

Theta Sigma was also bullied by Anzor at the Academy. Anzor would use a galvanizer to make Theta do his navigational homework. He also turned another student named Cheevah into a crystal and threw him off a bell tower. (Audio/Novel: Mission to Magnus)

Koschei was in charge of organizing the end of term parties, but the Eighth Doctor recalled that they weren’t good. (Comic: The Glorious Dead)

Theta Sigma and Koschei would sneak out of the Capitol and go drinking with the Shobogans. (Novel: The Eight Doctors)

Theta Sigma was given an avatroid named Badger as a young child to act as his friend, protector, and tutor. He apparently gives bone crushing hugs. (Novel: Lungbarrow)

Theta Sigma did not have a good relationship with most of the House of Lungbarrow. Indeed, his first memory is of Satthralope smacking him so hard he could not walk afterwards. (Audio/Novel: Cold Fusion)

Satthralope would also let the drudges attack Theta if he refused to come to dinner. Drudges are basically servants of the Houses, about two and a half meters tall, and strong enough to hold a fully grown Time Lord in one arm. (Novel: Lungbarrow)

One time, those at the House of Lungbarrow wanted Theta Sigma to return home for Otherstide and even sent Badger to collect him. Theta refused, so they contacted his professor Delox, who proceeded to expel him from her classroom after chastising him on his family in front of the entire class. After this, Theta appeared to exhibit many of the signs I associate with a nervous breakdown. Distressed, Theta came up with an idea that would prove he wasn't what they all said he was - he would go after the Toymaker. (Novel: Divided Loyalties)

Millennia and Rallon were the only two to join him on this trip, the rest of the Deca thinking them mad. They stole a Type 18 TARDIS, and after making it to the Toyroom, Rallon's body was basically immediately taken over by the Toymaker. The Toymaker had Theta play a game of Capture the Flag. He turned Millennia into one of his dolls, and Theta returned to Gallifrey, the only survivor. (Novel: Divided Loyalties)

Because of these events, Theta was put on trial. The only two to attend this trial to support Theta were Jelpax and Magnus. Vansell showed up but only to reveal that he had been working with the CIA, having been tasked with watching Theta. Koschei and Ushas had been off working on a research project at the time. (Novel: Divided Loyalties)

While Theta, Rallon, and Millennia were gone, Mortimus ran away from Gallifrey, which made many think he had gone with them, and eventually also ended up in the Toyroom. (Novel: Divided Loyalties) Other accounts suggest Mortimus left Gallifrey later, so perhaps he returned after this trip.

Theta Sigma was on the same zero-grav hyperball team as Padrac, who he called "Paddy." (Audio: The Eleven)

Theta and Koschei's "kindergarten spat" apparently almost destroyed the planet. During this time, Theta used to call Koschei "Scabby Knees." (Audio: Blood of the Time Lords)

Theta Sigma had no friends in his very early life. Instead of creating imaginary friends, he had an imaginary enemy called Mandrake. Mandrake was actually a dead lizard he pinned to an engine part that Theta would defeat using a stick. (Audio: The Widow's Assassin)

There was a Hermit who lived behind the House of Lungbarrow on the mountain. Theta Sigma once went to him, depressed and full of despair, and the Hermit showed him hope in yellow flowers. (Television: The Time Monster)

Shimmerlings live in the time vortex, but after a storm, they were stranded on Gallifrey and dying. A very young Theta Sigma saw the Hermit throwing them into the Untempered Schism to save them. Theta asked him what was the point because he wouldn't be able to save them all before they died, and the Hermit taught him the value in saving who he could, despite not being able to save everyone. (Audio: Crossed Lines)

Theta Sigma was the Time Tot Hide And Seek Champion for 42 years in a row, which apparently drove Ushas nuts. (Comic: Weapons of Past Destruction)

When Maris - a retired CIA agent - was hired to find out where Theta Sigma, now probably the Doctor, had run off to in the TARDIS, Ushas and Koschei kidnapped her, interrogated her in an attempt to find where the Doctor had gone, and eventually almost killed her when she knew nothing (she was extracted from the situation before she could be murdered). (Short story: Celestial Intervention - A Gallifreyan Noir)

After graduating, Magnus rose quickly in Time Lord society, which Borusa felt threatened by. Borusa had the CIA manufacture evidence implicating Magnus in treason, leading to him fleeing Gallifrey and becoming a renegade. (Novel: Timewyrm: Exodus)

Koschei befriended a professor at the Academy named Salyavin because he wanted access to the restricted libraries. He wanted to find The Worshipful and Ancient Law of Gallifrey, an act which was illegal. Salyavin took the blame for this, was sent to Shada, and stole the book (since he was condemned anyway, he might as well). (Short story: The Legacy of Gallifrey)

Theta Sigma and Ruath, another student at the Academy who was obsessed with vampires, once electrified Borusa's perigosto stick. (Novel: Goth Opera)

After the Academy, Koschei attended a ritual with Theta Sigma and Susan, then likely called Arkytior, in Arcadia. Here, he gave her a toy, which was actually a communication node that he planned to use to find Theta and her if they ever left Gallifrey. (Audio: The Toy)

According to one account, Koschei led students at the Academy in a coup against Lord President Pundat the Third and tried to convince Theta Sigma to join. Pundat died of stress soon after the revolt and was replaced with Chancellor Slann. There was a second coup, but they were overheard by the authorities trying to yet again convince Theta to help. After each coup, there were bloody reprisals against the students, but Theta, who was not involved, had his memory wiped. Koschei assassinated Slann, but the students weren't ready for another go. He ended up fleeing Gallifrey. (Short story: Birth of a Renegade) There are, however, many other accounts of him fleeing Gallifrey.

Koschei and a "friend" were locked in a bathroom of a bar in the Tower by the Time Lords after a prank gone wrong. The two fought, and the friend left Koschei behind in the Tower, where he remained locked in for centuries. (Short story: Rebel Rebel)

Theta called Vansell "Nosebung" and continued to do so for centuries. (Audio: Neverland)

Theta Sigma came in fourth place in the Time Lord Academy Sprint Championship. (Comic: Space in Dimension Relative in Time)

Theta Sigma fed a snapping wart fowl to Valyes's summer project, and Valyes still holds a grudge over this. (Audio: The Next Life)

Flubbles are koala-like animals with six legs. Theta Sigma used to keep one under his bed at the Academy as an illegal pet. He almost got caught when she went into heat and started performing her mating call. (Novel: Island of Death)

Theta Sigma used to chase tafelshrews - a species almost like rodents - through the snow of Mount Cadon. (Short story: The Three Paths)

By some accounts, Theta Sigma was loomed, and by some, he had parents. In a version where he had parents, his father and Mr. Saldaamir were once working in the House and were therefore ignoring Theta. Because of this, Theta, at this point a small child, caught a cobblemouse and set it loose in the House, interrupting their plans. (Novel: Unnatural History)

A cousin of Theta's - Glospin - used to bully him quite a lot. He once claimed to find evidence in the Loom pointing to the fact that Theta did not belong in the House of Lungbarrow. If this was believed, Theta Sigma would have been executed. This caused the two to have a physical altercation. (Novel: Lungbarrow)

During this fight, Glospin got a genetic sample from Theta, allowing him to force a regeneration into a Theta lookalike. Then, Glospin murdered Quences, the Kithriarch of the House of Lungbarrow (basically the head of the family), before regenerating again, thus framing Theta for the murder. This was because Glospin wanted to become the next Kithriarch instead of Theta, but because of this, the House of Lungbarrow buried themself (the Houses are sentient, did I mention that?) for centuries. (Novel: Lungbarrow)

Despite doting on Theta (and Theta generally being his favorite), Quences had been convinced by Satthralope to disown him when he announced he didn't want to be a Lord Cardinal. (Novel: Lungbarrow)

Some of Theta's cousins include Quences, Satthralope, Glospin, Innocet, Arkhew, Owis, Salpash, Luton, Rynde, Jobiska, Maljamin, Farg, Celesia, Chovor, DeRoosifa, and Almund. (Novel: Lungbarrow)

Grandfather Paradox was also of the House of Lungbarrow from the same generation as Theta, but of course, he never actually existed. (Novel: Christmas on a Rational Planet)

Pandad VII issued a Burn Edict on Braxiatel, but Braxiatel killed his would be assassin. As punishment, Braxiatel was forced to take up the mantle of Lord Burner for some time, the personal assassin for Lord President Pandad VII. He was ordered to erase an old man and his granddaughter (wink wink) who were fleeing Gallifrey from history but refused to do so and let them go free. That very same day, Pandad died when a power relay that was in his office overloaded, but an inquiry led by Braxiatel found that this was an accident. Just an accident. Nothing shady going on here. (Audio: Disassembled)

Magnus tried to drain the Artron energy from a giant sphere from the time vortex. Theta Sigma opposed him and used the gun of a member of the Chancellery Guard to stop him from draining the energy because he had learned that the energy was alive. This set the energy free. Magnus never forgave him for this, and their friendship ended. (Comic: Flashback)

Theta Sigma had a great aunt lived in a house high in the mountains. She would sing him lullabies. The Eighth Doctor said she was "terrible." (Audio: Together in Eclectic Dreams)

Anyhow, I'm spent, so I'll post this now. Might add on some more later lmaoooo

Don't forget to check out the next part in the reblogs!

[utterlyotterlyx]

The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part Three

Summary - After Azriel and Nesta return from their mission you find them being as watchful as ever, and it turns out that celebrations weren’t always destined to be joyous.

Warnings - angst, fluff, flirting, slight suggestive tones

Part One Part Two

Sunlight curled around your forearm, tugging you and willing you to step outside and bask in her glory.

Ignoring her, you again focused on the matter that held your attention.

“Say it with me, Nyx,” your hands were delicately placed under his arms, holding him in place on your lap. Nyx looked at you with wide eyes and blushed chubby cheeks, dark hair weeping from sleep, his little wings flapping behind him and small digits reaching to furl into your hair, “Auntie y/n is the most powerful.”

Nyx babbled incoherently and you shrugged, cuddling him into your chest and inhaling that smell that made your heart clench with want. It was so fresh, a perfect amalgamation of Rhys and Feyre but also something utterly pure and unique to him, “Close enough, I suppose.”

A certain type of ferocity had consumed you the moment Nyx had been born, there was no one that could guard him better than you. Perhaps that was why Rhys rarely cared when you would pick up the child and whisk him away in on one of your adventures, that being you’d walk him around the city and take him for ice cream all whilst trying (and failing) to ensure that the first thing to fall from his lips would be your name.

Sunlight speckled through the stained glass panes of the library, it was sometime around noon, and you had swooped Nyx from his cot that morning before Feyre or Rhys could realise it. No one would dare to meddle with your time with your nephew.

Three days had passed since Azriel had left you with nothing but a whisper of a kiss on your brow, it had been three days of silence, three days of Rhys acting as your shadow and you letting him believe that you didn't notice his intense gaze settled upon you whenever you entered the room. The Circle had been suspicious, whispering in corners and sparing you the odd sidelong glance before resuming their hushed bickering, even Feyre, who you believed wouldn't be one of those people, was also taking part.

It seemed as though Lucien was your only friend, he actively sought you out, he had noticed your reluctance and need to hide yourself away so distracted your mind by asking about Eris, about what you spoke of. Of course Lucien knew you wouldn't divulge any details, but seeing your eyes sparkle and a soft smile form on your lips was enough to make him believe that you at least had one good thing occupying your mind these days.

A sonnet of brisk air alerted you to another presence slipping through the library doors, Nyx perked up in your arms, and you knew instantly from that and the scent of night-kissed air that Rhys was stood somewhere behind you. Your nerves stood on end as he rounded where you both sat, casting his shadow over your forms, "You stole him again," Rhys' voice was cold and distant, but he cocked his head to the side and grinned at his son, placing his finger in Nyx's hand and shaking it gently.

"Is it so terrible of me to want to spend some time with my nephew?" Rhys hummed and reached for the child, you went to shield him from your brother but relented when Rhys' gaze set alight in warning and gave in, relaxing your grip and feeling that pained void when the wriggling child was snatched from you.

Rhys settled Nyx into his chest, resting his chin atop the crown of his head and looked down on you with his usual wariness, "We have been invited to the Day Court this evening. Helion has requested your presence."

Narrowing your eyes at him, you surveyed his face for any signs of deception, "What's the occasion?" Rhys turned his back to you, sweeping Nyx from your sight, muttering something about a birthday.

It was too odd. First Azriel and Nesta being sent away, the entire family being odd and secretive, then being beckoned to the Day Court? Something wasn't right, and you certainly did not want to spend your evening watching Helion beg Azriel and Cassian for some kind of soul-enlightening orgy.

Once Rhys had stepped out of the room, you threw up your shield and floated toward the desk, once again ignoring the sun beckoning you outside and finding an odd scrap of parchment to scribe upon, scratching your message out and letting it devour itself into ash and float away.

I need your opinion on something.

A minute passed and you spied an autumn-scented piece of cream tinged paper wedged beneath an old leather bound book.

Is that all you need from me?

Smirking, you replied with a matching amount of seductiveness. That was how your conversations had been going, light and always full of mischief, but Eris was always poised to listen to your words, he was always ready to help you if you even thought of asking him for it.

For now.

Tell me what's on your mind, Fawn.

Hesitating, your quill hovered over the paper as you debated whether or not to tell him what the past three days had been like without Azriel and Nesta. The hushed words and glares, your loneliness and desire to lock yourself away. Was it divulging Night Court secrets or just your own?

I feel out of place here. I feel like I'm being punished for helping you. Rhys sent Azriel and Nesta away, and the rest of them are avoiding me more than usual. Cassian hasn't invited me to training, Mor hasn't come to my rooms to gossip, even Rhys took Nyx from my arms only a few minutes ago. It's like I'm poison that they need to dispel from their lives and I just want to lock myself away and disappear.

Watching the clock, you counted down the seconds until another note found its way to you.

I know Rhys sent them away because I found them poking around my boarders the evening before last. And, you're not poison, Little Fawn, locking yourself away only means that they win, and you're far too important to let the infantile actions of your family diminish everything that you are. Don't forget that. No one controls you but you, y/n, the world is yours if you would only ask for it.

Would you give me the world if I asked for it?

I would burn the world to ash if you asked me to. There is nothing that I would not give you.

Heart fluttering in your chest, you slumped back into the comfort of the antique armchair that you had told Cassian off more times than not for using it as a stool for his feet.

Will you be there tonight? At the Day Court?

I will.

Will you find me?

Always.

The shield around you pulsated with force and you furrowed your brow at the shimmering ripples that swam across its surface. Dull thumps echoed within your bubble, and a muffled voice called out to you. Glancing down at the note in your fingers, you turned it into black mist that curled around your fingers and danced upward to the sky and lowered the guard.

You could have cried with relief. Azriel stood before you, still clad in his second skin, blue siphons glowing like he had entered just entered Velaris and had immediately sought you out before reporting to Rhys. Azriel knew what was more important.

"You're back," you breathed as you walked into his awaiting arms, arms that wrapped around your waist and fingers that raked through your hair with a hint of desperation.

Your heart seized in your chest, needing to feel at home and at peace. But it didn't. A lump formed in your throat and a pit opened in your stomach and pooled with unease.

Azriel pulled away from you, his hazel eyes scoured your face but they held something awoken in them, like he saw you differently. His fingers floated over the surface of your skin, up the inky bargain that encased your upper arm which matched his own and across your collarbone, but he didn't touch you there as though as if he were worried that you would mar his hands further.

You took a step back, "What's wrong?"

He'd found something on his travels, something that was making him look at you differently, in a way he had never looked at you, with fear, with sadness.

Azriel's brows etched together, his eyes flowing up and down your form, noticing something off about you. Your scent. The scent of Autumn, of Eris, lingered on your fingertips, the same fingers that were wrapped around his neck moments ago. You hid your hands behind your back.

"Nothing. I just wanted to see you," even his voice was laced with his deception, his shoulders went rigid like a putrid smell had entered his nose, and he visibly shivered, "I should go and talk to Rhys. I'll find you later?"

Feigning innocence, you called, "Was the mission alright, at least? Where did you end up going?"

Azriel turned back to you, lingering in the doorway before your portrait, "It was fine," he forced a tight lipped smile, it was almost as if he had forgotten how observant you were, and how well you knew him. Still, you kept your eyes full of that doe eyed wonder that threw him off and lured him right into your talons. If he was going to lie to you, then there was no harm in aiding your own agenda, "Rhys sent us to keep an eye on some happenings in Spring. Tamlin has been expanding his armies."

A lie. A blatant attempt of deception. One that didn't stick.

Anger bubbled within you, Azriel had never lied to you, your bond was supposed to be too special for those kind of games. Instead of allowing it to bubble over, you inhaled deeply and kept your hands folded behind your back, "Well, I'm glad you're home. I missed you."

The Shadowsinger relaxed his features and almost looked as though he wanted to move to you, to gather you up in his arms and protect you from whatever was clearly heading your way. But he didn't, instead, he spoke to you softly, "I missed you too, y/n," and disappeared from your view.

A feeling of impending pain, perhaps not physical, lodged itself deep within your soul, almost strong enough to steal the air from your lungs. Clasping you hand around the ledge of the large oak desk, you hunched over and attempted to fill your lungs with oxygen, tears prickled at the corners of your eyes and for the first time in your life, your own sanctuary was suffocating you.

Nesta had greeted you with the same apprehension as Azriel had, although, at least she had made it clear that she didn't want to.

Even the walls were watching you, craning their gaze to follow your figure through the house. The only safe space was your room, so that's where you were, nestled between the cushions and watching the candlelight flicker against the cream coated walls whilst Nesta paced about the space, showing you countless dresses on their hangers since you were making no move to look yourself.

Your friend was dressed in head-to-toe black, a form fitting garment with a long slit up the right side and a neckline so plunging that it left little to the imagination. Her coronet was tightly woven, and two thick strands curled around her jaw to frame her sharp features. Blood red lips, arched brows, eyes full of anticipation.

"You have to choose one, y/n."

Ignoring her command, you turned your head to her and she knew what you wanted to know before you even asked, "Are you going to lie to me too?"

Nesta froze, allowing the hanger to fall at her side along with the silver garment attached to it, "What do you want to know?"

"I want to know why Azriel lied to me about where you both went, and I want to know why all of you are suddenly treating me like a stranger," Nesta exhaled shakily, and it was the first time that you had truly seen her stoic demeanour perish before your eyes; she glanced about the room with worry, like she too could sense the house pressing its ear up against your door, "It's safe to speak. Not even the house can hear us."

The elder Archeron sister perched on the edge of your bed, noting your hunched over figure as you hugged your knees close to your chest, it was clear that your exclusion by everyone was making you feel lesser than. Nesta rested her hand atop the comforter, almost reaching for you, but also not at all; Nesta struggled to find the words, to tell you some form of truth without shattering you, "If it ever comes to it, you know I will protect you, don't you?"

"I used to believe that."

Nesta shuffled up the bed and spoke in a hushed tone, "Rhys has been trying to understand you, where all of your power came from and why he only has a fraction of it. He asked us to go Under The Mountain, to see if Amarantha did something else to you other than take your wings. Males would stop at nothing to harness the power that you have."

Under The Mountain was a hazy memory, one that you'd rather not remember at all. You rolled your shoulders, feeling the marred flesh rippling at the action, "Is that what Rhys wants to do? To harness my power? Is that why I've been so hidden?"

Nesta didn't want to answer, but she couldn't keep it from you, unlike Azriel, Nesta remembered your observance, how nothing got past those fire ringed violet orbs, "I don't know what he wants to do with what he finds," she told you honestly, her stoic hatred for him returning to her features, "I didn't go to aid him, y/n. I went so that I could find whatever he wants to know and give it to you. Protect you."

At least one of them was on your side, and you supposed it would have always been Nesta, Azriel was too loyal to the Night Court, and despite your bargain, he would always protect Velaris first and worry about you later.

"Did you find anything?"

Nesta sighed, "Azriel didn't," but she certainly had, "Not now. Now, you wear the most incredible thing you can find and we go to the Day Court and wear the masks that we have to in order to survive another day."

The dress in her fingers, still on its cushioned pearlescent hanger, was a shade of blue-grey that you rarely wore. The bodice was like armour, perfectly fitted and boned, crystals were embedded into the curve of the breastplate and trickled down the deep seated opening that only met just above the bellybutton, exposing the taut muscle and cleavage beneath. From the point where the fabric met at the lower abdomen, the skirt curved upward over the hips and each ridge of fabric acted as a branch, curving upward and cascading down the back, pooling on the floor. The skirt was frosted, diamonds coated the branches of the skirt and curled around the hem which trailed along the floor, and a long central slit sliced upward, enough to expose the legs you knew most males would crumble for, but also little enough to keep your dignity in tact.

It was a spectacular thing that your mother had made. Perhaps the most.

Nesta helped you into the piece, slithering it up your form and humming in appreciation about how well it fit you. The sleeveless garment was certainly made for you, and she secured a diamond necklace around your neck and rested her hands on your shoulders.

Loose curls bounced with every step, Nesta had braided two thick sections and pinned them upward, pulling the skin of your face backward, and had even gone as far as to bless your face in neutral shimmering cosmetics.

The room fell silent when you stepped into the living area, Cassian's once bellowing laughter turned to molten nothingness, Mor's quips dissipated, Rhys' loving words to Feyre who was entangled in his arms were ash in his mouth, even Azriel couldn't speak as his own eyes poured over you.

Paying little mind to the stares of your family, you turned your attention to Lucien who was stood in the corner leaning against a wooden beam with his arms folded over his chest, smirking, "Shall we? I'd hate to waste an outfit like this on people who couldn't even begin to appreciate it the way it deserves to be."

Lucien bit back his laugh and took your arm after a gentle nod from Elain who knew, and despised, how you were being treated. Under his breath Lucien muttered, "You're playing with fire, y/n."

Leading him from the house and onto the lawn, you turned your gaze upward to him, appreciating his beauty and the tied back hair that Elain had no doubt tailored to him, "Perhaps. But I won't be the one who gets burned."

The Day Court Palace had always had the ability to take your breath away, the home alone was enough to convince you that relocating would be a good idea. Maybe it was the white marble pillars so brilliantly white and tall that they kissed the sky, or maybe it was the cloudless skies that washed you in orange bliss the moment you appeared at the foot of the steps.

Even the breeze was welcoming, dancing around your arms and shoulders before moving onward. A weight had shifted within you, and you realised that it was because the Day Court had no reason to watch you like Velaris did, that for the first time in months you were actually free of eyes constantly watching you.

You didn't look back to see if everyone had landed alright when you began to ascend the steps, completely breaking protocol and sauntering upward to where you could hear music and laughter bubbling. Two familiar presences fell in step with you, Nesta and Lucien, the former to your left and the latter to your right, and you all ignored the claws scraping down the walls of your minds commanding you to return to your positions.

Music swirled around you as you paced down the hallway, being mindful of the multiple pairs of feet scuffling behind you until a hand wrapped around your wrist and tugged you back with force. Rhys loomed over you, eyes ablaze and snarl conformed to his lips, nostrils flaring with each breath, "What do you think you're doing?"

Nesta fell to your side, ready to take down the High Lord by any means necessary, Cassian was glaring at her and moved closer to Rhys, "I think that you're the one who should be answering that question, brother."

The air around you both grew heavy, it pulsated with dark energy that emitted from you both, but yours drowned his own and pierced him with its talons, making him feel weak and weary, "Remove your hand before I make you," and he did, his hand dropped from your wrist, "What a good little High Lord you are, Rhys. Father would be so proud of you."

Unspoken words flew between you, ones that told him that you knew what he was doing, that he was seeking to control you and always had, just as your father did.

Azriel had, unsurprisingly, moved to Rhys' other side, his gaze low and body ready to cut you down, he was blocking Feyre from view but she peeked over his shoulder just as Mor did with Cassian.

Power pulsated around you like a heartbeat, black began to move from your fingertips and tinge your veins with their ink from your fury, and Rhys' faltered at the sight of it, his eyes blew wide open and he found your darkened eyes zoning in on him, the violet had turned almost black and that ring of fire was blazing, "You need to calm down, y/n."

"Don't you dare," Nesta growled, placing her hands on your shoulders and turning you away, whispering to you and soothing you whilst Lucien stood up to Rhys.

Lucien's gaze was cold, his mechanical eye whirred as he took in the scene before him, of the High Lord flanked by his soldiers, needing to protect him from his own flesh and blood, "Tell me, Rhys," he found Rhys' gaze again, that constantly disapproving thing that followed you everywhere, "Tell me how what you're doing to her, to your own sister, is any different than what Tamlin did to Feyre."

Silence.

Bone dry silence consumed them, and when Lucien turned to see where you and Nesta had gone to, he only saw the train of your dress slip around the corner of the door toward the sound of freedom.

The room had turned to you as soon as you had entered with Nesta by your side, and not in a wary on edge way, in one of awe and adoration. Eris lingered by the dais, dressed in dark grey pants and white shirt, grey waistcoat and matching jacket which adorned silver swirls.

All anger evaporated from you as soon as his russet eyes found you, they washed over you with concern, no doubt seeing the blackened fingertips and sadness in your own orbs that had returned to their usual hue. He looked beautiful, more so than you remembered, more beautiful than the version of him that settled within your dreams.

You moved to the dais and greeted Helion, you had gone to bow to him, as custom when visiting other courts, but he didn't let you, "You bow for no one, especially when you look like that," he had always taken every opportunity to flirt with you, and he always held a certain resentment for Rhys for refusing your hand to him.

"Thank you for inviting us, I hope you've had a wonderful birthday," you folded his hands in your own and felt his healing touch worm its way into every negative pocket in your body, feeling lighter, more grounded.

The doors opened again, and you turned to see Rhys stalk up the centre of the hall closely followed by the rest of his Inner Circle. As if sensing your discomfort, Eris took a step up and offered a hand to you, and you gladly took it, stepping down from the foot of the dais to allow Rhys to have his moment with his friend, and not once did Cassian or Azriel's eyes move from you.

Lucien reached his brother and whispered into his ear, "I need to talk to you. Now," Eris frowned and peered to you, noting your fluttering eyelids and the unease that radiated from you and nodded, moving to follow Lucien who sent you a reassuring smile before they exited the hall.

If it weren't for Nesta stood beside you, you surely would have crumbled. She stared down her own mate and friends, head dipped low and staring at them through her brows, anger seethed from her and you knew she was going over the consequences of ending Rhys' existence right there and then in her mind. Nesta was Lady Death and you were the Queen of Darkness.

For the next hour you stuck to the walls of the hall, muttering polite hellos as you did your best to keep a safe distance between you and Rhys.

The architecture was stunning, white marble walls and golden chandeliers, pale wood round tables stacked with sparkling wine flutes and food, long benches full of revellers enjoying the festivities. Artwork delicately hung from the walls, glittering in the crystal tinted glow of the chandeliers, sparkling in the light as the skies grew dark beyond the open arches.

Helion's bellowing laughter floated about the room, and you wondered how a life in Day could have turned out for you. Though, you didn't have long to think of it before a hand curled around your forearm and gently pulled you from the room. Eris was in front of you, gingerly holding your arm in his hand as he led you down a flurry of corridors, peering down each one quickly to ensure it was safe to go there.

The High Lord led you all the way out to a private balcony, where you could hear the waves crashing against the rocks and the breeze flutter around the corner. The torchlight danced in the wind, flickering softly as he turned to you. Breathing in, you felt peace, that autumn pine and orange, wilting leaves and warm autumn rain.

Sighing, you felt tears pool in your vision, turning it slightly blurry as you tried to drink him in, "Lucien told me what happened. Are you alright?"

That singular question broke a little piece of you, you couldn't remember the last time some asked if you were alright and were actually invested in the answer. The concern in his eyes and brows made a soft tug pull at your soul, "I'm suffocating."

Eris waited for you to continue, keeping a distance he thought you'd be comfortable with between you, though all you wanted was to know what his arms around you would feel like, what it would feel like to have his lips pressed to the bare skin of your shoulder.

"They've been lying to me, all of them. Nesta confirmed it. Rhys doesn't understand why he only has a fraction of my power, he sent them Under The Mountain to see if Amarantha did other things to me when she held me hostage in the beginning. I feel like a prisoner in my own home, they're all scared of me, even Azriel," your voice broke, never in a million years, in your existence, did you ever think you'd voice that Azriel was scared of you.

"None of them want to touch me or speak to me. I can't do it anymore. I thought Rhys just wanted to protect me, but now I know it was never about that, it was about keeping me hidden and away from everyone else, he made me a prisoner and I didn't even know it."

Wrapping your arms around yourself, your tears flowed freely down your cheeks and you made no move to wipe them away. Eris took a step closer to you, his shadow waltzing with your own, "Can I touch you?"

It took you a moment, a moment of his russet eyes on you and fingers fidgeting at his side until you nodded softly and he raised his hand. His fingertips lightly dusted up your arms and neck, they curled your hair around them and grazed along your jaw, and you felt electric under his touch that spready across every single part of you. His breath was warm over your face and you took a moment to appreciate him, his godly-crafted cheekbones and jaw, eyes that told a million stories, the golden freckled skin and his curved lips.

"I'm not afraid of you, Little Fawn. Nothing about you scares me," his finger curled under your chin and angled your head upward, "All you need to do is say the words. You are the author of your own story. Tell me what you want."

Rhys had let you believe that you had free will, he had allowed you to be outspoken and poised, he had let you believe that you were nothing more than a scare tactic, and you were too enthralled with your so-called family to realise what he had done. There was nothing free about your life, you weren't allowed to leave Velaris without supervision and even such occasions were rare, you weren't called upon in battle until there was no other choice, you were a pawn to him, one that he had masterfully toyed with.

"I want to go to the Autumn Court. With you. I want to denounce my place in the Night Court and leave Velaris," the words felt like poison in your mouth but your soul was thankful for it, and the storm in your soul had already began to break with golden sunlight.

Eris nodded and took a step toward you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest, your hands were flat against his waistcoat that had once again matched your own attire perfectly, "Your wish is my command, Little Fawn," and then you both disappeared in a swirl of light, leaving nothing but the joint bliss of your scents behind and dancing away in the night-kissed breeze.

Author's Note

I hope you love this! x

Taglist

@mybestfriendmademe @jesskidding3 @rosewood-cafe @fandomarchiveilyd @brujitafantomatico @crazylokonugget @mai-adaptive-dreams @magicstrengthandcourage @acourtofmoonlightandstars @ysmttty @lilah-asteria @circe143 @xyzmeh @paleidiot @namelesssav @amberlynn98 @acourtofbatboydreams

[remuslupinslittleslut]

can you do a poly marauders blurb about the reader and remus going shopping and the reader is trying clothes on in the fitting room but remus is just so horny that he has to fuck her in the fitting room? please it's my birthday in 20 days and it would make me so happy

Hi darling, Happy Belated Birthday, I think it was yesterday? Sorry for being late, but here's your fic 🩷

Fitting Room.

Masterlist.

The one-year anniversary of your relationship with your three men is coming up, which is to be celebrated with a fancy dinner, baby, let us spoil you, James had murmured, bringing you close and kissing your face. It had been a bit harder to convince Remus, who, out of the four of you, is the most uncomfortable in settings like that. To hype him up, you decided to bring him with you for a day of shopping, the both of you in dire need of new clothes for the dinner.

“Come on, Rem, let’s look in here, I heard they have the cutest tops,” you cheer, tugging on his hand, making him follow you into yet another store.

Going through the racks, you pick up item after item, forcing Remus to carry all of them for you, before you make your way to the fitting rooms.

“Okay, love, which one d’you wanna try first?” He asks, holding up the clothes as a human clothes hanger.

Picking a dress from the pile in his arms, you give him a quick peck before leaving him on a pink puff and pull the curtains close behind you.

The dress is nice, form-fitted, and tight, a bit too revealing, maybe. You look down at your breasts, practically hanging out of the top. Peaking your head through the curtains, you find Remus on his phone, thumb scrolling on the screen.

“Rem, can you come here for a sec, I need a second opinion?” He gets up, with a sigh, having had to look at quite a few different outfits already. When he gets inside the fitting room, though, his eyes widen at the sight of you. “Be honest, is it too slutty?”

Biting his lip, you can tell he’s hiding a smirk.

“Oh, darling, you look amazing,” he says, wrapping his arms around your waist, “fuck, you have to get this, I don’t care what the tag says, put it on James’ credit card.” Your chuckle is quickly silenced as his lips begin to kiss down your neck, nibbling at the skin. “Can you keep quiet, baby?” He asks, bringing one hand up to wrap around your cheeks, pushing two fingers into your mouth.

It’s hard to nod when you’re pressed between his shoulder and his hand, but you do your best to let him know that yes you can keep quiet.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, lips pressed against your ear, as his hands waste no time in pulling the dress up over your arse, before quickly pushing your knickers down. You whimper as his fingers rub up and down your folds, spreading your wetness around, feeling your arousal, relishing in it. “Gotta be quick, yeah?” He says, pulling his cock out and pumping it only a few times before splitting you open on it, in one long and languid thrust. “Fuck,” he groans, “you’re so tight, love.”

Bringing your hand to your mouth, you bite into it to stop the noises from passing your lips. He’s trying hard to be quiet, too, you know, but the drag of his cock against your clamping walls is enough to make you want to scream.

“Yes, love, doing so well, so quiet and good f’me, not letting anyone know what a fucking slut you are, taking my cock like this, in public and all,” his words are hushed, probably not enough though, but you know that talking dirty to you is the quickest way to get him over the edge, and this time, you have to be quick.

“Fuck, darling, gonna come,” he grunts, slowing down only slightly, dragging out the experience for just a few more moments. “Gonna fill you up, then, you’re gonna walk out of here with my cum running down your legs and no one will know.”

Throwing your head back in a full body spasm, you try to convey to him that it’s okay, that he has to let go, because you don’t want to get caught and the faster he’s done, the faster you can get home and let all three of your boys take their sweet time with you.

It’s always an out of body experience, feeling Remus’ cock twitch inside you as he fills you up, one spurt of hot cum at a time. You know there’s not enough time for you to come as well, but you know you will, once you get home, so it’s okay, but the feeling of him filling you up makes you feel all blissed out, like it’s some type of release for you, too.

Pulling out of you, Remus is quick to pull your underwear back up, keeping his cum tucked in tight, before helping you out of the dress and into your own clothes. Between each move, though, he presses a soft kiss to your face.

“You okay?” He asks when you’re both ready to leave the small fitting room.

“Mhm,” you reply, leaning into him lazily. “I’m good.”

He smiles, then, tugging on your hand for you to follow him out, James’ card already in his hand, ready to pay for the sinful dress.

[zephyrchama]

Hey! Uhhh, my birthday is in two days and most my friends don’t want to celebrate with me. So could I get some comfort for an MC who is sad their human world friends don’t wanna celebrate but has the brothers by their side? I’ve been reading your fics and headcanons the whole night yesterday and they’re really good!

(Thank you!! Hope I made it in time, and I hope it's okay if I changed things up a bit to be an MC who wasn't expecting any sort of celebration. Please have a lovely day! Happy Birthday!) (Anyone who reads this, please be sure to wish seerachii a happy birthday!)

Your alarm was beeping. Just like every other day, you raised an arm and fumbled around in the sheets until your hand made contact with the alarm, turned off the noise, and sighed into the pillow. Waking up in a realm where the day-night cycle doesn’t exist was tough. Your body had a hard time keeping track of its natural rhythm.

It was a normal day. You had homework to do and errands to run. You decided ten more minutes in bed couldn’t hurt, as a treat, and felt around one more for your D.D.D.

New messages from all of the stores you frequented appeared in your inbox overnight. Fifty percent off today only! Buy 5000 grim worth of product and get a free present! Stop by in person and show this message to get a free sample! That last one vaguely intrigued you. Maybe you would stop by after the errands were complete. The kitchen was running low on trash bags, you needed a new notebook after spilling some caustic potion on your old one during class, and Satan asked you to pick up a pack of dental floss when the opportunity arose.

You slowly dragged yourself out of bed and over to the wardrobe. You wondered if it would be weird to dress a little fancier than normal, or if anyone would even notice.

Now that you were closer to the door, an odd sound caught your attention. Some kind of scuffling and movement on the other side of your bedroom door. Muffled voices. Your heart froze. Were you supposed to be on breakfast duty? Some of your housemates liked to be up early, and some of them got real cranky when their breakfast wasn’t prepared on time.

You hurried to put on whatever outfit was front and center before opening your door, expecting to see one or two grumpy demons waiting for their food. You were met with everybody, dressed in suits, in the midst of another sibling squabble. Things seemed tense and as soon as you opened the door, all of their attention turned towards you.

“You’re awake?” Beelzebub asked. “Good morning.”

This was a rare sight. Maybe your alarm clock was set to the wrong time and you woke up far later than usual. You rubbed an eye and opened your mouth to apologize for oversleeping but got cut off.

“Hold it! What in the three realms are you wearin’? You wore that same thing last week,” Mammon exclaimed, holding an arm out in front of the others as though holding them back.

Asmodeus shoved a decorative box overflowing with tissue paper into your hands. “Put this on! Go, go!” He nudged your back into your room, and they shut the door behind you.

What?

The muffled squabbling started back up. You heard Belphegor in particular complain, "I didn't get to say good morning."

"We'll do it properly the next time," Lucifer said, right before your attention was directed elsewhere.

Inside the box was a a stunning outfit. Far fancier than anything you thought of wearing that morning and custom-tailored exactly to your size. You admired it in the mirror, conflicted. This definitely seemed like a gift, but was it really? The material felt expensive. You didn't want to get your hopes up. It could be a coincidence, some new idea that Diavolo cooked up or an event you forgot to write on the calendar. But even if that were true, what a nice coincidence it was.

A hush fell over the brothers as you gripped the door handle. This was definitely weird. You swung the door open again and asked, "What's going on?"

"Happy Birthday!" a chorus of voices rang out. Some of them followed it up with "good morning!" Someone temporarily blinded you with a confetti popper.

"Sorry we forgot to say it before," Leviathan said, clapping.

Satan and Lucifer came forward to pick confetti and glitter out of your hair, congratulating you while Asmodeus fussed over your new outfit. "As I thought, it suits you! Hehe."

A mix of emotions welled up. Mostly shock. "You remembered? Or rather... you guys knew? I don't think I told you..."

"'course we knew!" Mammon boasted.

"Who do you take us for?" Belphegor took one of your hands while Beelzebub grabbed the other. They went ahead and intertwined their fingers with yours before anyone else could object.

"We have a lot planned for today, but first, was there anything on your schedule?" Satan asked. "I hope you didn't make too many plans."

"Yeah," you said truthfully, "if there's time I was going to pick up that floss and maybe some new stationary."

Asmodeus laughed and slid an arm around your shoulder. "Oh, you're so funny!"

"You can do that another day," Lucifer chuckled. "We have better things in store for you."

"I especially can't wait for dinner." "Beel, that's a surprise," Leviathan chided, poking the glutton in his side. "Oh, right. You didn't hear that."

They had a whole day of activities planned, just for you? You teared up a little. It was impossible to cover up with your hands being held, so you looked at the floor to try and collect yourself. Just for a moment.

Of course they noticed. Leviathan was alarmed and rushed to ask, "What's wrong?"

Lucifer's confidence wavered ever so slightly, a rare happenstance. He stepped forward with a worried expression and a handkerchief if you needed it.

"Mammon, what did you do?" Belphegor eyed his brother suspiciously.

"Why me? Nothin'!" he stammered, kneeling to get a better look at your face. "What's wrong, huh?"

These guys belonged to a big family. They might fight, but they always had each others backs and supported one another when the time came. You belonged to their big family. They might be overwhelming and needy, but they always had your back and supported you when the time came. You were an inseparable part of them. It was an inscrutable realization.

What was there to say? Thank you? That sounded far too simple to express the complex emotion pooling in your gut. You squeezed the hands that had reached out to you first. They squeezed back. Maybe it was okay to be a little selfish on your birthday in the Devildom.

A wavering smile spread across your face. "I can't wait. What are we going to do?"

[enree9h]

LAST HOUR | sjy

✮ PAIRING : fwb!jake x fem!reader

✮ SYNOPSIS : Time runs closer to midnight. With barely an hour left for Jake's birthday to end, you rush to get to him after having forgotten about it for the entire day. But Jake doesn't plan on letting you slide with it so easily so he makes you pay for it until midnight.

✮ WARNINGS : SMUT, p in v, unprotected s.ex, cursing, making out (lmk if I missed smth!)

✮ wc : 1.5k+

✮ a/n : this was supposed to be a Hoon fic ( my ass has been fixated on him for the past week, INTENSE hoon brainrot) but I hadn't released a Jake fic yet SOO. And to be quite honest- re reading it, I feel like it fits Jake better, dk. what do you think??

MDNI

Bursting through the doors of the club, your eyes frantically scan the crowd for him. The music is loud, almost deafening and you feel the bass seep into your body. The lights dim to a red so dark that it takes you a whole minute to adjust your vision to the lowered brightness of the place. You were late by twenty-three hours to be exact and the guilt that came with it did not help your case. When you finally caught the tiniest glimpses of him you felt your shoulders relax. 

He hadn't spotted you amidst the bustling crowd yet or so you thought.

With the restroom close in sight, you decide to step in for a quick minute before meeting him. Stumbling through your apartment at the last second did not leave you with much time in hand. And having to cover the twenty minute drive to this place meant you had to use up the time you could've spent looking decent. 

So you slip through the crowd and into the silence of the restroom. The faint sound of music flows through the cracks in the door but the sudden noise of a door being banged shut jerks you out of your internal rambles. 

“Someone finally decided to show up”, his tone has an icy bite to it and it doesn't fail to cut right through you. “Jake” you begin but when he walks up to you the mellow scent of wood and smoke hits you.

 “Look,” you utter but he comes to a halt right in front of you, his gaze burning right into your fidgety self, “I’m really sorry.” 

When he attempts to get closer you inch backwards until you meet the wall. “No you're not”, his arms slip around your waist and when he leans in you feel his lips graze yours. His hands travel lower until they reach your ass and you feel his nails dig into your skin through the silk of your skirt. “I was just too wrapped up in helping Jay move,” you say in a hushed whisper. 

Jake feels his frustration reach new heights at the mention of his friend, “Oh come on”, Jake scoffs.

“It’s always him”, his lips find your jaw, “but by the end of the day”, you feel him suck on the exposed skin of your neck, “It’s my cock you’re gagging on”, he lightly bites into your flesh, purple blooms over the expanse of your skin, “isn't that right angel?” 

When you attempt to respond he does not let any further words fall out of your mouth because the very next second he’s pulling you in, crashing his lips onto yours. His nails dig into the skin of your hips and you flinch when you feel him bite into the plump flesh of your already swollen lips. His fingers are on your thighs until you watch them slide under your skirt, pushing it up, leaving your skin exposed, all for him. 

“Waited for you all day though", he whispers against your lips and you feel the guilt render your body lose in his hold. “I’m so sorry Jake” but your words go unheard and when you catch his eyes you understand why. 

When his fingers reach your soaking core you gasp and lean on the walls, your back arching at the contact. Jake watches you squirm under him and he loves it. He loves the sight of your teeth sinking into your bottom lips, and the feeble attempts you make at concealing the guttural sounds that left your lips. But Jake was just getting started so when he presses his knuckles into your pulsating core you throw your head back and bite your hand until it left your skin dotted with red. “Let me hear you, angel” 

He is quick to hoist you up against the wall and your trembling legs wrap around his midsection with practised ease. With your underwear out of his way and dangling at your ankle, he is running his thumb over your clit. “Jake oh go-” but when he drives his finger inside of your dripping hole you see stars. 

“Already clenching around me baby?” His voice is hoarse and the sound of it with his finger buried in you drives you over the edge but Jake doesn't stop there. The moan you let out when he inserts another finger inside leaves Jake feeling for the bulge in his jeans. The sight of your whimpering self grinding on his fingers, drenched in your wetness, pressed against the walls of a random club restroom was enough to make him go feral for a feel of his throbbing cock buried in your tight hole.

You feel his knuckles drive into you without thought, every thrust leaves you shaking against him, your underwear slides off your ankles and falls to the floor but you couldn't care less. “So good Jake” you manage to whisper, your voice blanketed with lust.

“oh yeah?” the bite in his voice goes unnoticed by you. The tightening knot in your abdomen makes you deaf to any and every sound but the trance doesn't last for long because Jake is quick to pull his fingers out.

“Seriously?” your body which was previously shuddering with the onset of a release is now slumped in his hold. You were so close, a light press of his knuckles against your clit would result in you coming undone but he had to make you beg for it, pay for what you did to him today. 

Jake leans in to press a quick peck against your lips and with a devious smile plastered on his face he whispers “My turn”, with that you are flipped around, your palms hit the mirror on the wall and your upper body is left bending over the sink. 

You barely get a second to compose yourself before he plunges into you. “Jake oh my god” your screams bounce off the walls of the empty restroom, cutting through the feeble sounds of music from the party. 

“So tight for me baby” Jake’s voice doesn't sound like his anymore, the hold of his fingers on your hips tightens with every relentless thrust into you. Your breath fogs the mirror and when you attempt to glance at your reflection you catch Jake's eyes in the mirror. 

“Look at yourself”, one of his hands comes to wrap around your waist as he reaches for your clit, “letting me fuck you dumb” he's rubbing circles on your bud with a growing pace and you feel your body lose any and all control. Your legs tremble under the rush of such intense pleasure but Jake never attempts to slow down. 

“Jake I think I'm-”, the sounds of your wetness fill the air and you feel your face heat up with embarrassment. Jake thrusts his hips until he feels the tip of cock reach your cervix. Your palms slip over the smooth fogged up glass and your nails scratch against it as Jake pounds into you with a newfound energy. “F- feels so good angel”  he bends and attaches his lips to your nape, pressing sloppy kisses to your shoulder blades. 

The next second he is straightening back up, grabbing your hips and driving right into you. His eyes are glazed over, breath uneven and he seems to be in a daze so intense that all your screams go unheard. 

“Wish me”, you hear him say, his words coming out in pants but your mind was clouded and your spine arching under the pleasure, too engaged to respond. 

You feel his fingers on your clit, “Wish me, angel”, and when he pinches your bud you cry out from the stimulation and that is when you hear him. 

“H-happy-” he drives in deeper, “Birthda- oh god” when he flips you around and hoists you over the sink, your ass on the edge, you look into his eyes and instantly feel your body react to it. Dilated pupils, mouth half open, skin flushed red and the sweat that ran down his neck onto his exposed chest left you gasping for air. 

Jake leans in to nuzzle in the crook of your neck as he mercilessly plunges into you, wet kisses line your skin. Your head lolls back and when you feel his cock twitch inside of your throbbing core you spread your thighs further for him. 

“Fuck” his voice seeps into your skin and leaves you trembling in his hold until you feel him go slack. 

He moves inside of you and with one last thrust, you feel the knot in your belly unwind. 

You sit, shaking in his hold, coming down from the high. 

Your hands come to sit on his shoulders and you push him to stand in between your legs. Jake throws his head back in response and the groan that falls out of his lips makes you want to part your thighs further but you hold back. 

“Hey” you hold his face in your hands, “Happy birthday Jake” you whisper and lean in to plant a soft kiss on his lips. When you pull away lightly he leans in further to catch your lips again so chuckle against his mouth and give in.

[baby-yongbok]

It's a Date - Seo Changbin x afab!Reader

Genre - Fluff WC - 836 a/n - Day 2 of my Binnie Birthday Week Posts

✧ Masterlist ✧

You’re running, well kinda, you’re walking super fast but it feels like you’re running. You abuse the elevator call button, impatiently waiting with a tapping foot for the lift to arrive. It’s nearly midnight, he won't be expecting you but you need to see him before you go mad. Once the elevator arrives on his floor you rush to his dorm, you knock harder than intended and whisper shy apologizes to the people who poke their heads out to check the source of the noise. 

“That wasn’t even fair, you cheated I know you -” Hyunjin opens the door, swinging it back from the frame carelessly and freezing when his gaze catches yours. “Oh, hey.” You wave, looking past him and over at his roommate. 

“Changbin, someone's here for you.” He pauses the game on the tiny tv, turning around and catching your gaze for a second before he jumps up from his bed. “Hey, what’re you doing here? It’s past curfew.”

“Needed to talk to you about… uh, earlier.” You glance over at Hyunjin who’s still holding the door open. He’s staring up at nothing in hopes that one of you will tell him to move or something. “I just feel embarrassed, I was having a hard time with finals around the corner and I just… I didn’t mean to break down like that. I didn’t mean to ugly cry and be all dramatic.”

“You weren’t being dramatic.” Changbin steps closer so that he’s next to Hyunjin. “And it wasn’t ugly. Nothing about you could ever be ugly.” Changbin stares over at you with a sincere smirk and you stare back with a bashful blush. You expected him to be sweet, he always is but you didn't expect him to be this sweet.

He tugs a bit at the bottom of his black tee before pushing his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “I’m always here for you. No matter what.” Hyunjin clears his throat as you open your mouth to reply. You both look at him and Changbin gives him a death glare. “Hush.” He warns before looking back at you.

“Well I still wanted to apologize for crying like a baby.” You chuckle nervously and he smiles. “You risked getting a curfew strike for this?” You nod and now he chuckles. 

“I also wanted to ask if you maybe wanted to get lunch tomorrow… to make up for my tantrum today.” Hyunjin turns to Changbin, wide eyes staring at his friend while his friend stares at you who’s staring at the floor. “A lunch date?”

“She didn’t say it was a date.” Hyunjin mumbles and Changbin sends him another death glare before he looks back at you. Your eyes are on him now and you catch a glimpse of the blush coloring the tips of his ears.

“Yeah.. a date.” You hold your breath and Changbin holds his for a second before attempting to reply. He stumbles over his words once, twice, three times before you huff a laugh. 

“I’m sorry I’m just- I uh- Yes, I’d love that. I’d love a lunch date with you tomorrow.” You shift your weight from one foot to the other, a wide smile on your face. “I uh- I’ll meet you at your class in the - at the, uh..” He trails off, closing his eyes with a bashful smile as he tries to compose himself.

“I genuinely don’t know why my brain just goes blank when I look at you. I think I'm going a little crazy.” He scratches the back of his neck and you attempt to rock back and forth to defuse the nerves building up in your stomach. “You’ll meet me after econ? North building?” 

He nods, pushing his fists back in his pocket. “That was cute.” Hyunjin mumbles, still staring up at nothing. You giggle at him and even Changbin smiles a bit.

“I should get going.” You take a step back, waving at the two before Changbin calls after you. He grabs a hoodie and slips on some shoes before grabbing his keys. “I’ll walk you back to your building.”

“You sure?” You ask and Hyunjin parrots you, staring at his friend with a furrowed brow, he gets another death glare. “Yeah, it’s late, I'll walk you back.”

He tells Hyunjin that he’ll be back quick and follows you down the hall. You press the call button for the elevator, much calmer than before as the two of you wait in silence. “I grabbed this for you.” He hands you his hoodie, his favorite one. 

“It looks a bit cold out there.” You smile as you take it, it’s the middle of summer. “Oh, thanks.”

“Of course.” He guards the elevator door once it opens, allowing you to step in. You both stand next to each other as the doors close. You hug his hoodie that smells just like him and Changbin smiles down at his feet.

“It’s a date.” He whispers to himself. 

“It’s a date.” You whisper back to him

Thank You For Reading! Please Reblog or Comment to let me know how you liked it! It makes my day! 💕

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t's marvey fic rec list!

Pt. 2 in reblogs!

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[vorfreudevortex]

3. three can keep a secret...

a street racer!ino takuma x f!reader fic

redline masterlist // previous: chapter 2 // next: chapter 4

warnings // 5.8k words - swearing, alcohol, smoking, reckless driving (duh), all characters in college or recently graduated, mount hakone's details are not accurate for the sake of the story so pls don't try to clown me for it, mentions of weapons, mention of a car accident, injuries such as bleeding and broken bones, mention of death

✰ // the cars and the reader’s appearance in this fic are purposely kept ambiguous so you are free to have aspects look, feel, and be modified any way you’d like.

the vibes for chapter three

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆ ｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

takuma’s soft palms securely grip your waist as you wobble and sway. the skate park is empty aside from you two, the setting sun casts a golden filter through the trees and onto his glowing skin. it’s been a few days since he first kissed you. after finally exchanging phone numbers, you’ve been texting every day since, and stealing away time to see him when suguru’s attention is turned towards something else. he’s taken you for breezy late night cruises, let you drive his skyline, and hushed walks through quiet neighborhoods.

but today he treats you to sushi from his mom’s lovely shop, and now a crash course lesson in skateboarding at the secluded park near his home.

“i’m gonna let go!”

“don’t!” you shriek, clamping onto the cotton of his navy blue shirt even tighter.

“i’m kidding,” he giggles. “i won’t let go until you ask me to.”

you jerk back and forth on the worn out wood, trying to tighten your core like takuma told you to, but it does nothing as you struggle to find balance.

“are you bending your knees?”

“i’m trying to,” you whine as he walks beside you, guiding you forward slowly. you finally find a small center of stability, “wait, let go now.”

he steps back as you slowly roll forward, arms flailing and torso contorting as you try to hold the balance you had. takuma doesn’t leave your side. the uneasiness becomes too much for you and you stumble off the board, sending it flying behind you. he’s quick to grab you.

“that was great, you’re making progress!” he grins. you grip his arms.

“that was terrifying!”

“oooh, so when 4 wheels have a supercharged v8, it’s fine” he teases. “but when it’s 3 pounds of wood, it’s terrifying?”

“it’s so not the same!”

takuma laughs before wrapping his strong arms around you and pressing a kiss to your forehead. the contact is soft, gentle. you’ve noticed over the past few days that takuma is rowdy and rough when he makes contact with anything except you. when you’re there, his body and voice calms, like a precious glass ornament he’s afraid to break.

“we can be done for the day,” he suggests. “maybe another lesson tomorrow?”

“i can’t,” you pout. “my dad and brother said they have something planned for my birthday.”

“what?!” his eyes widen with alarm. “your birthday?”

“yeah,” you smile sheepishly. “i’m 21 tomorrow.”

“you should’ve said something! oh my god, i didn’t get you anything.”

“i didn’t expect you to,” you giggle. “you don’t need to get me anything, kuma.”

“no, no, no,” he pleads, tightly clinging to you. “i’ll get you something good, promise.”

“you really shouldn’t worry about it—”

“—sshhh,” he hushes you. “and this weekend, we can go out and celebrate at the underground.”

“i’d love that, kuma.”

“good,” another press to your forehead before quickly whipping around and hopping on his board. he pushes off, rolling fast and low as he approaches a ramp. he looks at you with a silly grin and playful eyes— it’s an addicting sight. “now watch this steeze!”

you can’t help but laugh at his goofy behavior as he lifts up from the ramp, the board twirling in the air before he sticks the landing.

it’s not the burning sun that sends warmth through your entire body, it’s takuma.

✰✰✰✰✰

that evening, chopsticks click and clatter around the kotatsu as your little family enjoys a comforting dinner. you, papa, and suguru prattle and laugh over minuscule conversation and steaming rice. but papa finds a lull through the noise, and takes the opportunity to say something that neither you or suguru were expecting.

“i talked to toji fushiguro the other day.”

ah, shit. 

you look at suguru, suguru looks at papa. you know that your brother never told your dad about the tense situation from a few days ago. and you both know that papa is still friends with toji, but assumed that he would keep his mouth shut to him. plus, incidents like that had an unspoken rule to stay unspoken, even to those who were familiar with the scene.

“and how did that go?” suguru responds, his words slow and careful. papa looks at you, his kind eyes suddenly serious. he holds a beer bottle, oil and grease buried deep underneath his fingernails.

“toji says that there’s some people who don’t like that there’s a girl running around and racing.” 

“i haven’t been racing, though,” you’re confused. you already know toji told your papa about the argument suguru had with his son. suguru stays quiet, looking down in his food with his brows furrowed.

“but you’ve been practicing to race,” you dad explains. “apparently, the local car community isn’t exactly excited that you’re here.”

“i’m just visiting,” you tilt your head. “i come here every summer, i think most people in the scene know that.”

“but you’re older now. you shipped out your car, doing mountain passes… getting more involved with suguru’steam.”

“that doesn’t mean anything,” suguru finally says. “who’s saying this?”

“i’m not sure,” papa admits. “but toji seemed concerned about it enough to come and talk to me.”

“and this was after suguru raced his son, right?” you ask.

“yes, but all that’s beside the point.”

“so what is the point?” your brother says, you can tell he’s getting irritated.

“well…” papa clears his throat. “…they don’t want a girl racing around them.”

“why not?” you ask and suguru rolls his eyes.

“it’s not like a girl’s never ran with us,” suguru scoffs. “this is stupid.”

“so, are people, like… mad at me?” you’re still confused. “they know my shelby is faster, they know that suguru’steaching me how to drift, so what? they don’t want the possibility of suguru’s sister being better than them? that’s so childish.”

“i agree,” suguru adds. “this is some bullshit. it’s just fun, my little sister wants to run around with me and race while she’s here for the summer, so she will. it’s not that serious.”

“trust me, i agree as well,” your papa looks anxious, the creases on his face seem more obvious than before. “it’s just that toji suggested that…”

“suggested what?” suguru huffs.

“he suggested that someone might cause trouble if clutch hangs around too much.”

“…is that a fucking threat?”

“i don’t know. but you needed to know, and clutch is old enough now where she should know it, too.”

“alright…,” your fingertips twitch. “so what happens now?”

suguru scarfs down the last of his food and stands up from the table. “i gotta call toru and ken.” your papa reaches over and places a reassuring hand over yours as suguru disappears upstairs.

“i’m sure it’s just talk. you shouldn’t stop having fun while you’re here,” his gentle words help you relax. “i love you, y/n. just be safe and smart when you’re out.”

✰✰✰✰✰

later, when the moon glows through the windows and the house settles into silence, you find yourself knocking on suguru’s bedroom door. you heard him come in earlier from the bar with his friends, and know he would be in bed now.

“come in.”

he lays back on the pillows of his bed with one knee propped up, scrolling on his phone. he only wears a pair of shorts and his long, dark hair is loose over his shoulders. his room is spotless, like always. against one side of the room is his bed and desk, the other a tv and dresser. they walls are covered in a tasteful array of signs and posters, the moonlight almost makes them seem alive. his dark wooden desk is littered with random silver car parts and tools, all clean and neatly aligned. his closet door is ajar, and each shirt is color coded.

you pad over and and he moves to make room for you as you sit beside him. his phone lights up his sleepy face, it’s a tiktok video of a beautiful nissan silvia.

“what’s up?” he smiles lazily, reaching up to wind his fingers through your hair. you slump into his shoulder.

“we never talked the other day.”

“yeah, i’m sorry. i got caught up working on satoru’s car.”

“it’s alright. i’ve already forgiven you.”

“well, i’m still sorry… never should of put you in that position.”

“don’t be,” you laugh. “i put myself there.”

“and i should’ve kept you out.” you sit up, his fingers leave your hair. he looks at you expectantly.

“nii-chan, you’ve never used your gun, right?” your voice is soft. “same with satoru?”

“no,” he looks directly in your eyes, he wouldn’t dare lie to you. “never.”

“okay,” you nod. “but, what about what papa said—”

“—i will if i need to,” he’s quick to respond. “and satoru.”

“i will, too.”

he lifts an eyebrow at your words. “huh?”

“i know how to use a gun,” you admit. “mom has one back home and taught me.”

“why would she get a gun?”

“i dont know,” you shrug. “everyone’s got one. so i guess she didn’t want to be the only one without.”

“you’re not going anywhere near my pistol.”

“i know.”

“seriously, don’t touch it under any circumstances. i don’t care if it's laying around in my car or something,” his voice is suddenly low and urgent. “if i get caught and they find your prints on it, it’s over for you.”

“you’d go to jail, too.”

“and i’ll be the only one going. you’ll have nothing to do with it.”

you’re both quiet for a moment before you ask your next question.

“why did toji fushiguro do that? don’t you think that was so weird?”

“i don’t know, i think just to piss me off some more,” suguru huffs. “either way, it was odd behavior, even from him. it was fucking disrespectful. he doesn’t know you like that so i don’t know why he would try that shit.”

“you still seem really mad about it.”

“because i am,” he sits up and grabs your arm. “that’s why i don’t want you anywhere near ino or any of the shadows. they hang out with some nasty people. fushiguro still does suspicious shit and i know he’s got his son in it too.”

“suspicious how?”

“fushiguro…” he pauses and glances at the bedroom door before lowering his voice to a whisper. “…fushiguro and his kid were the ones to help me get my gun. and i know exactly which nameless yakuza he sourced it from. and that kamo guy, the one with the tattoo on his nose, used to run drugs and other shit for him and toji. they ran around together in a motorcycle gang before they got busted and he came to tokyo.”

choso kamo? no way… he was so quiet and respectful towards you at the club, and he’s friends with takuma, the sweetest one of them all. same with megumi, he seemed so young and easily flustered, there’s not a chance that his own father has him sneaking around the city like that… right?

you want suguru to be lying but you know he isn’t. he’s never lied to you and his intense gaze solidifies his truth.

“you think anyone who willingly runs around with those guys can stay out of trouble? absolutely not. takuma and his boys were the first to get pistols. satoru and i thought the same as mom, we weren’t gonna get tied up someday as the only ones without them.”

“okay, i get it. but what does that mean for me?” you take a breathe. “i don’t wanna get caught in literal crossfire just because i wanna race.”

“you won’t.”

“how can you be sure? if toji fushiguro is this big and bad, i don’t think he’d make empty… threats… like that.”

“clutch, my team is more than just ken and toru,” he reassures. “sure, those two are always around, but the phantoms are bigger than you think. they’re just not around every time we’re out.”

“i kind of figured…”

“people say the phantoms run the streets of tokyo,” he continues. “everyone knows i don’t fool around. there’s a lot that happens when you’re not here. someone would be an idiot if they tried to come after us.”

“what about me?”

“us includes you, silly,” he smirks. “you’re my sister. you could beat most of them in a race after all. as long as you stay close to me, you’ll be alright.”

you can’t help but smile.

“suguru, i wanna be one of the fastest street racers in tokyo,” you admit. “at least while i’m here.”

“i think you’re pretty much there already,” he chuckles. “there’s no other girls who race with us.”

“i mean, even better than the handful of female racers around. i wanna be able to keep up with you.”

“is that so?”

“yeah. and i wanna win a touge pass on mount hakone, too. lots of them.”

“all before the summer ends?” he teases.

“yeah, before the summer ends,” you grin. “and then i’ll mysteriously disappear like i was never here.”

“oooh, kinda like a phantom?” he wears a shit-eating grin and you can’t help but laugh. “it’s late, you better get some sleep for you surprise tomorrow.”

“can you give me a hint?”

he looks up and purses his lips, faking a deep thought. “hmmm. it’s something you’ll never see coming.”

“yeah, i know,” you lightly smack him as he laughs. “that’s what a fucking surprise is.”

“i’m not telling you anything. but it’ll be a proper celebration of your 21st. it’s a big one, you’ll go home and be able to party now.”

“you act like i’ve never had a sip of liquor in my life,” you pull him in for a tight hug. “love you.”

“love you, too.”

you pull away and playfully jab your finger in his nose. “you need a soap opera on your life after the drama you caused the other night. don’t drag me into it again.” he swats your hand away with a grin.

“you shithead. get out of my room.”

at exactly 12:01 am, your phone sings:

takuma ino: happy birthday pretty girl :)

✰✰✰✰✰

your birthday flies by before you know it. papa, suguru, satoru, kento, and shoko wake you up with your favorite breakfast and gifts, including one that your mom mailed to you from back home. your bed is littered new clothes, jewelry, trinkets, and liquor at the end of the morning. suguru makes you play passenger princess in your own mustang for the day while he takes you around the city, while the others all seem to have excuses for why they can’t come spend your birthday with you.

suguru drags you all across tokyo. he takes you shopping, out for lunch, and then coffee when you get sleepy. he pays for your manicure, takes all your instagram photos for you without complaining, and to the sushi boat restaurant you’ve been wanting to visit. it’s not as good as ino family's sushi shop.

you’re exhausted by the time the sun has set, begging your brother to take you home so you can finally spend time with your papa before the night ends.

“your garage remote isn’t working,” suguru says as he fumbles with the buttons, the engine idling just outside the house.

“suguru, this has been the best day ever and i love you so much,” you start. “but i’m about to get real fucking cranky if i’m not in the house in 10 seconds.”

“relax,” he laughs. “go open the door for me and head on upstairs. i’ll pull your car in.”

you’re punching in the code when you hear suguru cut the motor of your mustang. the garage door groans open behind your back as you watch him walk up the driveway toward you.

“i thought you were gonna pull my car in?”

“i would but,” he points behind you. “there’s no room.”

your drowsiness had distracted you from realizing the shop’s lights were on when they shouldn’t have been. you look over your shoulder with wide eyes. suguru’s a fucking liar after all.

the shop is crowded with bodies that shout and holler excitedly when you finally turn around, and in the center sits your papa, satoru, kento, and shoko. between them, however, is a dark, blood red body of metal. there’s not a single scratch on the paint, and the chrome wheels gleam under the bright lights of the garage. the front license plate, brand new and snowy white, reads “CLUTCH”.

“what the fuck…”

“we all pitched in,” suguru slings an arm around your stiff shoulders and holds a key out before you. “still wanna go to bed?”

your life isn’t real. you stand there like an idiot, dumbfounded with your jaw hanging open. this is a movie— no, a dream. no, this is a prank. a sick, sick joke.

“liar,” you finally choke out. “you’re a liar. you’re lying.”

“never,” he says, finally letting a wide grin spread across his face. he pushes you into the garage and past the strangers. “i hope you don’t mind, but everyone here helped pitch in something and wanted to meet you. these are the phantoms…” he opens the driver’s door of the silvia and gently pushes you into the seat. “…and this is the newest phantom’s newest car.”

you’re crying, sobbing, bawling. you’re an absolute blubbering mess. suguru crouches down in the open door as you shakily fumble with the ignition. it roars to life and shakes the walls of the shop. the turbocharged engine sounds so good, so sweet. you wail along with it as you slump over suguru’s shoulders and wet his shirt with your tears.

you can’t stop your tears as your loved ones embrace you, it’s all so much, too much. this was much different than when your mom helped you purchase the mustang, matching whatever amount you saved up from countless hours working as a waitress from her seemingly endless bank account. the time, effort, and love that your family on this side of the world had put in just for you makes you want to burst.

you think about your papa, long hours underneath greasy hoods, meticulously tuning and fixing each motor for each client that rolled into the shop. you think about kento, serious eyes and rough hands toiling away at his side. suguru, who your father also pays for his help, and his hours flipping street cars to sell on the other side of the shop— all three of their automotive technology degrees from college being put to work constantly. shoko’s exhausting 12-hour shifts at the hospital, usually during the late hours of the night. god, even satoru, who probably poured a significant amount of his father’s bank account into this gift to make up for his constant loitering.

the nissan silvia s15 spec-r, used but practically in mint condition with only 2,500 miles on it. a 4-cylinder turbo engine with horsepower up to 250. a 6 speed transmission, of course, and 274 newton-meters of torque. 

it’s fucking beautiful.

it’s yours.

✰✰✰✰✰

it’s deep into the night when suguru, satoru, and shoko step outside for a cigarette. your papa has already gone to bed and the rest of the phantoms are gone. you had made sure to thank each and every one of them before they left. most stayed close during the evening, taking turns watching papa and kento guiding you through the foreign engine and its components. 

it was just you and kento now, gently wiping down the sparkling red paint with soft towels in the peaceful silence of the garage. you sit on the concrete, getting the low corners of the nose while he leans over the hood, carefully erasing any fingerprints and dust.

“it’s quite the ride,” kento says quietly. his eyes droop with exhaustion from running around all day with papa and satoru to get the silvia in time.

“it really is," you smile. "thank you so much again, ken."

“you’ll be cruising along with us now,” he adds. “no need to ride in our passenger seats anymore like you used to.”

you can’t help but giggle, floating high and light through your sleepiness with the liquor and adrenaline of today. you think of all the times you’ve rode shotgun with each of the boys growing up, clutching onto the handles as they’d fly around just to make you shriek with happiness. it almost makes you want to cry, knowing those innocent days have ended, but you blink away the tears.

“i’ll still hop in with you every so often, don’t worry,” but kento doesn’t respond at first, instead he crouches down to your level.

“y/n, you should know that…” his voice is low, barely above a whisper as he pauses to glance at the cracked door. in the second of silence, you can hear your brother’s voice outside. kento’s brown eyes turn back and bore into you with insane intensity.

“…i saw you yesterday.”

he sees the confusion in your face. yesterday? wait—

“with takuma ino.”

fuck.

“…y-you did?” your voice shakes. you internally panic, you don’t know what to say.

“at the skate park, didn’t i?”

oh, he’s got you now. you hesitate in how to respond, but then silently nod your head. you’ve never lied to kento, and you won’t start now.

“i thought so.”

“i’m sorry…” you whisper. your heart pounds so loudly in your chest that you’re afraid kento can hear it. his eyes soften just the slightest bit.

“you didn’t know i live in that area as well, didn’t you?” his question sounds more like a statement. you shake your head, frightful tears forming in your eyes. you can’t even imagine the angry words your brother will chastise you with when he finds out, or worse, the angry fists he'd throw at takuma. “calm down. i’m not going to tell suguru.”

“you’re not?”

“no. it’s not my business.”

he stands up on his feet once more. you swallow harshly, willing the blush on your cheeks and the beating in your chest to calm down. kento has never scared you, but as you look up at his towering stance from the floor, you’re nothing but intimidated.

“but you will tell him when the time is right. and you will be careful around ino and the shadows. do you understand?”

“i understand,” you manage to croak out. you feel like you’re being disciplined by your father, or maybe your high school principle. kento just nods and motions for you to stand up beside him.

“you will also drive safely and responsibly with this new car,” his finger taps the hood. “only your father and i are allowed to tune this engine. if you get in an accident, it will be because of your driving. i will not allow this motor to fail on you under any circumstances whatsoever. if there is even a speck of dust positioned incorrectly on this motor, i will not allow you to race. do you understand?”

“yes, i understand.”

“i know your brother has told you about what happened to yu. i won’t allow anything like that to happen to you,” his face changes ever so slightly, an unreadable expression. your heart skips a beat, you know all about what happened to yu haibara. 

you’ve seen glimpses of the burn marks on kento’s side, the ones from him pulling his childhood friend from a blazing car. yu haibara didn’t stand a chance, he had died in the initial wreck before the engine even caught on fire. kento had crawled out of the passenger seat, bones snapped in half and stabbing through his skin, before crawling back in when he realized yu hadn’t come out yet. bleeding and broken, he had cradled yu’s lifeless body on the touge of mount fuji until help finally came to him. kento has never raced since.

“thank you, ken,” you whisper. you know he's dead serious, he would never say such a thing if he didn't truly and absolutely mean it.

kento pulls you in for a swallowing hug, the musk of his cologne filling your lungs as he wraps you into his chest.

“damn,” you turn at satoru’s teasing voice. “someone take a picture, ken’s showing emotion.”

the trio enters the garage with drowsy faces, reeking of tobacco. kento lets go, you pray they only caught the last part of your conversation.

“all cleaned up, huh?” suguru whistles.

your brother steps between you to lean over and closely inspect the glowing red paint, kento stands stiffly on the other side of him. you glance at him. he has a soft, knowing look in his eyes, and dimples emerge in his cheeks as he puts on gentle smile. you have complete trust in knowing that kento will keep your secret safe as he opens his mouth to speak.

“yeah. all cleaned up.”

✰✰✰✰✰

all week long, you wake up early and stay up late. the boys work with you every day while your papa tinkers alongside you between his own clients. shoko stops by after her shifts for a beer and cigarette to watch the boys work. 

the first engine modifications include a better cold air intake and exhaust, while kento insists that he reprograms the ecu so your throttle response is absolutely perfect. suguru orders brand new coilovers while satoru and your papa lightly argue over which strut and sway bars will be best for you. 

the five of you spend an entire day on new tires and cambers until the angle is exactly the way you want it, and another few days installing a gorgeous wide body kit for the wheels. papa focuses on replacing the stock clutch and gear shifter. kento helps you with the brake calipers and pads. you thought you knew plenty about cars and motors, but each hour you feel like you’re being introduced to a new component or tool that you didn’t know existed. 

at the end of every night, you’re leaning against the shower wall with sleepy eyes trying to scrub the grease and oil from the crevices of your skin and the bed of your fingernails. you’re not sure the dark smell of the motor will ever leave your hair, but you slide into your bed light-headed and happy knowing your family loves you enough to provide so much for you.

you don’t talk to takuma much as week passes, only a few messages here and there. you’re too busy feeling filthy with guilt every time the boys open up a box of brand new parts for your car. but every time you start to say something, someone is shushing you. you know how expensive each part is, and on top of the expense of the car… you feel sick to your stomach just thinking about how many digits follow the dollar sign.

although you’ve taken your new silvia for a few spins, you’re itching to get out to the mountain as the week comes to an end and the car comes closer to completion. it’s all you’ve wanted to do all summer, all you’ve wanted to do for years, and now you finally have your very own vehicle to do so.

the large door of the garage is wide open and the sun is setting, shooting rays of gold into the garage and over the silvia. warm summer breezes sift through the shop. suguru talks you through properly applying a sticker on your back windshield. it’s the same one you’ve seen on all the boys’ cars; a bright white hooded ghost figure with glowing red eyes— a phantom. when you’re finished wiping it down, your brother ruffles your hair and smiles.

“let’s go to mount hakone.”

you truly couldn’t be happier. there’s no races tonight, but there’s still a few scattered cars hanging out around the straight. a few of them take casual passes through the mountain, but nothing high stakes. you recognize a few familiar phantom faces and make sure to take the time to greet them and show them your finished project, thanking them incessantly for helping your family purchase the silvia until they’re practically begging you to stop.

everyone shows respect when suguru announces he wants you to have a turn through alone. they stay back on the shoulder to wait until you come back through again, giving you supportive words as you start warming up the engine. suguru hands you the black helmet from the passenger seat for the nth time.

“where did you even get this?” you ask him as you pull it over your hair. “you’ve never even owned a motorcycle.”

“it’s for your safety,” he reaches over to make sure the chinstrap is tight enough.

“i asked where, not why,” you giggle.

“i don’t even remember. it’s been laying around in my closet for a while.”

“it’s a cool helmet! practically brand new.”

“you’re the only one to wear it.”

you fasten your new seatbelt across your chest, a red racing harness that matches the maroon paint of the silvia. suguru does the same before pulling on your straps once more.

“i got it!” you whine. “it’s tight enough.”

“i just need to be sure,” he settles back in the passenger seat. “let’s run it.”

you press the gas, making the glistening new tires spin in place against the rough concrete until your gut tells you they’re sticky enough. your foot lifts from the brake, and the car is set free. your mind thinks of nothing except redlining the engine and the upcoming turn the entire way through.

your mind has made friends with each bend, rock, and tree along the path. every time you come to mount hakone, your confident builds higher and higher. and with the silvia now in your control, you’re raring to go. each day that passes means your time in japan is getting shorter, and you want— no, need— to get faster.

back at the straight, suguru whistles as you pull the handbrake for the final time and take out the key. the engine stands still and hot, you can hear the faint tick tick ticking under the hood as you tear off the constricting helmet. your hair sticks to your forehead, damp with sweat, as you try and catch your breathe. suguru shows you his phone screen.

8:42:35

it’s nowhere close to suguru’s. although unofficial because of its illegality, all the street racers in tokyo know that your brother holds the fastest time at mount hakone— 6:48:02.

“8 minutes?” you whine, even though it’s a whopping 5 seconds faster than the last pass you completed.

“this is an insanely good time,” suguru chuckles.

“no it’s not! it’s over 2 minutes slower than you.”

“relax, clutch—”

“—and a minute and 40-something seconds slower than toru.”

“you’ve already gotten so much faster since you—”

“—and a minute and 38 seconds slower than kento!”

“cool it,” suguru warns against your rare show of brattiness. “don’t pout about it. this is still faster than a lot of racers around here.

you’re still panting. you unclasp the seatbelt, slouching as your head falls back into the black suede of the headrest and close your eyes.

“you’re right, suguru. i’m sorry,” you say softly. “i’m sorry, i’m just tense from all that. it’s a good time, i know that.”

“don’t apologize, it’s alright,” he reassures. “let’s take a break.”

you pull your car to the shoulder and practically kick open the door to get out. although the icy air you had blasting during the race kept your skin cool, the cool mountain air made you feel as if you could actually breathe again. a handful of phantoms come over to you, complimenting your improving time and suggesting helpful tips while another round of racers loudly speed into the mountains.

a pair of boys your age stand off to the side, listening closely until the others leave. the dark-haired one with sleepy eyes holds a hand out to your brother first. unlike takuma, it seems like he already knows how not to piss suguru off.

“geto-san, nice to meet you,” he smiles. “my name is yuta okkotsu.”

suguru returns his smile and shakes his hand. okkotsu and his friend turn to you with a small bow before he places a hand on the shoulder of the smaller blonde boy wearing a black mask over his mouth and nose.

“this is toge inumaki,” he continues. “he’s mute, but he can hear you just fine.”

“oh, nice to meet you!” you smile.

“inumaki was wondering if you’d like to race tomorrow night, before ino-san and gojo-san,” okkotsu explains with his eyes trained on you. you look back at him but your mind is elsewhere. you didn’t know takuma and satoru were set to race tomorrow.

“uh, me?” you ask. you’re a little surprised, you weren’t expecting someone to approach you first, especially knowing now that people didn’t want you to race. inumaki raises his hands, fingers swimming through the air as he signs to okkotsu.

“if it’s alright with the both of you,” he explains. you can see the raised cheekbones of inumaki’s smile from under his mask. “inumaki just started racing as well, he thought it would be good experience for the both of you.”

“what’s your time?” suguru asks, but he speaks directly to inumaki. the boy’s eyes dart from suguru to okkotsu, nervous that suguru won’t be able to understand him. but he raises his hands anyways, and the slender fingers start to move.

eight. three. nine.

“8 minutes, 39 seconds?” suguru clarifies, inumaki nods. he clearly doesn’t care that the boy can’t speak, he just wants to know how fast he is.

“and what team are you two with?” he asks.

“we aren’t on any team,” okkotsu answers. “we’re pretty new to the scene, we just race for fun. and we don’t race for pinks or money.”

“how old are you two?”

“…17,” the boy smiles sheepishly. your brother chuckles lightly.

“well, how ‘bout it, clutch?” suguru hums. “you wanna race this guy?”

“…can i?” you respond. you’re asking suguru if he thinks you’re ready for a true touge race more than you’re asking for his permission to.

“if you want. i think you’re ready.” you smile at your brother and turn back to the boys. you hope you don’t seem too giddy, but your heart pounds with the anticipation of your first real race.

“let’s do it, inumaki-kun!”

he puts his hand to his chin and out, thank you. then, a fist with his pinky and thumb out with a gentle shake, shaka. you giggle lightly as you mimic his hands.

“but first,” suguru steps forward, towering over the boys. “we’ll do three practice passes right now with the two of you. she’s never gone through with a second car. we’ll take it slow and easy, keep your distance from her.”

inumaki nods and your brother turns to you.

“i’ll ride with you in the first round, but that’s it,” it’s your turn to nod to suguru. “helmet on, clutch. let’s go.”

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆ ｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

redline masterlist // previous: chapter 2 // next: chapter 4

tag list // @stillnotherapy @rieamena @magiamad0ka

© vorfreudevortex | all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, repost, or otherwise share my work.

[valentine-cafe]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE BABYGIRL(S) EVER!!! Can we give the Rishens a little smooch for their special day, mayhaps? 🥹

-🙇

˖⁺. ﹙ all of the rishens  x reader. ﹚ .𖹭 ݁

. . . awh.. . . thank you darling !! 🍒 :  angel ˖ admiral ˖ guardian angel ˖ preppy nerd ˖ hero ˖ mantis-moth-spider character ˖ admiral spy ˖ assassin character ˖ mad scientist ˖ villain ˖ cultivator ˖ cultist ˖ detective ˖ reader﹙ verse 9948e rishen, 781 rishen, 1311 rishen, 209 rishen, 9819 rishen, 9948v rishen. ﹚

you wish all of the rishens a happy birthday with a lovely birthday smooch

﹙rishen 781. ﹚. . . strawberry shortcake !! 🍓 :

a big smile etches across her face. arms immediately wrapping around your and giving you a big squeeze as he presses kisses all over your face.

“what a wonderful gift.” a bright light takes on her expression and she nuzzles up into your neck before she pulls at your hands. “come on, the other two got cake!”

﹙rishen 209. ﹚. . . red velvet cheesecake !! 🍒 :

the soft lips against his has him melting, in an instant crashing into you. while his arms move to squeeze at your waist. smiling happily.

“Oh cariño. . .” he sighs against your lips before pressing a few more to them. “you always make me feel so good.” he whispers and nuzzles into the side of your neck. teary, but happy eyes spilling onto the fabric of your shirt.

﹙rishen 1311. ﹚. . . vada !! 🍓 :

when you pull away his maroon eyes swipe down to you. the stoic expression melting for once with a hint of a curl at the corner of their lips.

a hand raises and his thumb swipes at the corners over your lips before she pulls you back in, closer. “think I deserve one more. it’s my birthday after all - hm?”

﹙rishen 9948e. ﹚. . . tres leches cake !! 🍒 :

as you pulled him in for a kiss, his wings fluttered happily at the contact. the ones behind his ears and the three sets on his back.

“mi amanecer.” he sighs and brings you up into his arms. twirling you around with a big grin on his face. golden eyes shining, “you’re the best gift i have ever recieved in my eternal life.”

﹙rishen 9819. ﹚. . . choc-raspberry pudding cake !! 🍓 :

when you move to part - he cups the back of your head and presses his lips firmer onto yours. prolonging the kiss and reaching down to hoist you closer by the waist.

“spoil me a bit won’t you? it is my birthday today,” he murmurs once he he pulls away, pressing a smooch to your cheek before fluttering his lashes to yours and smiling softly. a hushed murmur whispered: “thank you.”

﹙rishen 9948v. ﹚. . . kulfi !! 🍒 :

The somber presence that usually loomed the cultivator would come to fade the second your lips were on his and that sweet: ‘happy birthday’ left your lips.

her eyelashes fluttered, while she bit down on her bottom lip. and slowly crept the smile up upon his features. his palm cupping your face. “My beautiful light. . . thank you, for always being so kind to me.”

[surrogate-fawn]

Im a fan of #7.

Nesting (Werewolf AU)

Prompt: "The baby feels so low" [Also inspired by @hush-writes-preg's "Spooky Season Day #3" prompt. He can consider this an early birthday gift as well!]

Characters: Fawn, Newt/Asher - Pre-Polly Relationship ((Newt is owned by @mittysins, and Asher is owned by @killer-orca-cosplay.))

Context: This takes place in a modern world where werewolves are common amidst human society. Fawn is a packless Beta who is about to give birth to her ex-mate's pup. Newt, an Omega, and Asher, an Alpha, are a mated pair who took Fawn into their home -- despite the fact they're expecting a pup of their own in a few months. The three have formed a close friendship, though Fawn still feels like an outsider. After all, she was human only a year ago.

Disclaimer: This fic contains lore for my, Mitty's, and Orca's werewolf AU -- be forewarned there will be worldbuilding mixed in with the kink stuff. If story-heavy kink is your kind of thing -- like it is for us three -- enjoy!

TW: A/B/O dynamics, but within the context of a werewolf society; mentions of past abuse, werewolf-related birth troubles.

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

Smoky whisps of incense scented the room with lavender. The shades were drawn over the windows to block the fading sun. Golden fairy lights twinkled in the gossamer curtains woven through the support beams of the nesting tent, the only dots of light in the dark room.

The nylon pop-up tent was specially designed for those who were nesting. It clung to the baseboard and covered the entire bed in a snug, arched shelter. It could be zipped or unzipped in sections to create windows and doors as needed, or it could be shut tight for total privacy. The interior of the tent was stuffed full of jumbo-sized Squishmallow plushies, three oversized duvet covers, and one very pregnant werewolf.

"How you doing, Mama?" the mop-haired Alpha sitting bedside asked.

Fawn's pointed ear flicked in the direction of his voice in acknowledgement before she opened her eyes. She lay curled around a giant fox pillow, the soft material supporting her belly as she lay dozing in the tent. She had opened a section of the tent by the headboard so she could leave the nest if she wanted, but at the moment she didn't feel safe anywhere else.

"I've been better," she said, her voice lagging with fatigue.

A dewy layer of sweat clung to her whole body. Her clothing was shed to the bedroom floor, save for a black tank top and pair of boyshorts. The air around her was temperate, but her body burned with a mild fever. Her muscles felt heavy and useless, tired from months of carrying her pregnancy whilst fighting the tremors of rejection sickness. The worst of it had passed over time; but here she was, still feeling the effects of breaking her pair bond almost ten months later.

Oh, and being in labor for the last nine hours was not helping the situation.

The soft click of the door handle caught their attention. The pair of cryptids lifted their heads to look as it opened, the hallway light reflecting green in the mirrors of their eyes.

Newt's familiar scent -- much stronger than his mate's -- overpowered the lavender as he entered the room. Fawn's sinuses tingled with the spicy-sweet aroma of his smell, comparable to sassafras, that indicated his pregnancy as much as the grapefruit-sized swell of his lower belly. Fawn still struggled to describe the scents that were new to her.

The Omega approached her nest and held out the glass of tap water he'd been sent to fetch. Fawn craned her neck and lapped from it, her mouth too parched to obey her command. Her tongue was longer than it had once been, able to bring water to her throat as easily as any straw. She didn't pause to wrap her lips around the edge of the glass until her thirst was mostly quenched.

"Jeez, don't drown," Newt chuckled as Fawn took the drink from his hand.

Asher, the Alpha, got up from his seat and offered it to his mate with a nod of his head.

Fawn gulped down the last of the water and came up panting for air. "Don't tell me what to do," she retorted with a tired, playful grin.

"Don't tell her what to do, babe," Asher said, unable to disguise the smirk on his face as he set the empty glass on the bedside table.

The three shared a brief, quiet laugh.

Fawn's eyelids drifted closed as the room settled back into silence. She shimmied herself deeper into her pile of softness, falling easily into a twilight sleep; at least, for a few more minutes.

A huff of air left Fawn's nose a split second before her brow creased in discomfort. "Ash, start it," she said, curling tighter around her pillow.

"Yes, ma'am." Asher fumbled to unlock his phone and started the timer on his stopwatch app. "Started."

Fawn filled her lungs with air with one long breath and released it as a drawn-out exhale. The contraction coiled itself around her hips and squeezed, growing tighter by the second. The pain grew like a stinging vine around her belly, her ribs, her back, even wrapping around her upper thighs.

With a low groan, Fawn rolled herself onto her back. Her legs fell open at a wider angle than normal -- a sign her hips were loosening in preparation for her large pup to come through. She continued her ritual of slow, deliberate breathing as the contraction continued to climb to its dreaded peak.

Newt leaned into the opening in the tent, enough for him to run a gentle hand over the clammy skin of Fawn's arm. He didn't say anything, but his touch brought her a sense of ease. Even knowing that Asher was in the room, even if she couldn't see him, made her feel better. They'd only known each other a month, but she couldn't imagine surviving labor without them.

Fawn flashed her fangs in a snarl as the contraction reached its apex, the part she dreaded each time. "Ugh!" she growled through her teeth, her head pressed back into the pillow.

Newt's eyes widened when Fawn hooked her hands beneath her knees, drawing her legs up on either side of her belly. "Are you pushing already?"

"She's what?!" Asher gasped in alarm, his face appearing over his mate's shoulder.

"No!" Fawn growled, hardly able to breathe enough to speak. "My legs are about to fuckin' dislocate!"

She could feel the pup pressing its way out, prying open the flesh of her cervix as her womb squeezed it down. The pressure sent stabbing waves of agony between her legs. Her birth canal opened a little more with each millimeter the pup dropped, and now it was putting unbearable pressure on the ball-socket joints of her pelvis.

Fawn grunted in relief as the contraction ebbed. She released her legs, draping them wide apart over her plushies. Thankfully, Newt and Asher's guest bed was queen-sized and allowed her plenty of space to spread out.

"It's done," she announced, so Asher could stop the timer.

"Ooh, getting close," Asher said. "That one was thirty-eight seconds."

Even that short burst of work sent drops of sweat rolling down Fawn's sides. She pulled her tank top over the curve of her belly and tucked the fabric under her swollen breasts. She caressed the sore underside of her bump in long, soothing circles. The skin around her womb was pulled smooth as glass from the weight of the pup inside. She could feel where its surface was gouged by deep, purple stretch marks. Her pup wriggled impatiently beneath her hands, as if able to sense her touch through the thinness of the skin.

"Call me crazy," she said, "but I'm hoping this baby takes its time. It might rip me apart if it tries to break the speed record."

Asher checked the recorded times in his phone. "You'll be fine, it doesn't look like they're in a hurry," he said. "Just stay relaxed and the pup will keep working its way down."

Fawn gave a thumbs-up. "Copy that, Sarge."

"So, guys, are we taking bets?" Newt asked, resting his upper torso inside the tent.

Fawn tilted her head to peer up at him from inside the canyon of her pillow plushie. "On what?"

"Boy or girl," Newt grinned. He propped his chin up on his hand and beamed down at the redheaded wolf woman. "Should we take bets?"

"You boys can if you want," Fawn said.

"Just you versus me, babe," Asher chuckled from somewhere else in the room. "Fawn already knows, that would be cheating."

"No, I don't," Fawn said, quiet and matter-of-fact. She turned her eyes to the little golden lights twinkling over her head. "I didn't know if a doctor would make me contact my mate, so I never went to one."

At the mention of him, the mating scar at the nape of Fawn's neck became hot. She grimaced, able to feel each small wound his teeth had left when he'd inflicted her with the curse of the wolves. It wasn't as strong of a reaction anymore; the pain had at one point been overwhelming.

When she'd taken that first step out of the apartment with the intention to never come back, the mark had burned so intensely she thought she could smell her flesh searing. She was lucky Todd hadn't been home, because he'd no doubt felt the same sensation on the back of his neck -- where he had forced her to mark him as her mate as well. Had he been home, Fawn wouldn't have made it out of the building before he'd realized what she was doing.

"Besides," Fawn added, "I have no idea if I should go to a doctor or a vet now." Her freckled face paled, and she looked back up at Newt. "Shit, is that offensive?"

Newt laughed and leaned in to rub his cheek against her forehead. "Nah."

Fawn smiled as he brushed against her, leaving a bit of his spicy-sweet scent on her skin. She was still adjusting to perceiving the world through scent as much as sight and touch, but she grew more comfortable with it each time the pair scented her. Scent was transforming into language the more she utilized it. Maybe she wasn't sure how to communicate with it, yet; but there was something about it she was starting to understand.

"We'll show you the ropes once you're over the rejection sickness," Asher said, leaning against the nightstand so he could peer into the nest. "So . . . this guy didn't explain any of our lifestyle to you?"

Fawn shook her head. "Not anything us hum-," she paused, pressing her lips into a thin line. "Not anything humans don't already know. Transformation and full moon stuff, basically. He had me sell my silver jewelry before he'd even kiss me. I didn't know werewolves were that sensitive to it."

The boys shared a concerned look.

"Um," Asher cleared his throat, "we aren't. Silver allergies are rare as hell. A few poor bastards had a fatal reaction hundreds of years ago, and humans assumed it was a rule for all of us."

"Good old stereotyping," Newt said.

The lines in Fawn's brow deepened. "That piece of dogshit," she muttered under her breath. "I sold my grandma's pendant for him!"

Goddammit! Why hadn't she thought twice about Todd suddenly needing to "borrow" that money?! Her mating scar throbbed, seeping heat like an open wound where their pair bond had once been. A fresh sweat dampened her brow.

Newt brushed a few stray curls from Fawn's eyes and tucked them behind the point of her ear. "Fuck him. He's a dick."

"Yeah, fuck him," Asher agreed with a frown. His ear twitched as his scowl deepened, knocking his glasses askew. "Alphas are supposed to protect our mates, not take advantage of them."

There was a brief pause. Asher took off his glasses, cleaned them on his shirt, and added: "For what it's worth, Fawn . . . I'm sorry on his behalf."

"Me, too," Newt nodded. "Not as an Alpha, but as a wolf."

Fawn sighed and draped an arm over her eyes. "Thank you for that, boys. It helps . . . at least a little."

She felt like the world's biggest idiot.

When they'd met, she'd been seduced by Todd's hyper-masculine physique and charmed by his overly protective "doting". How special she'd felt, having an Alpha werewolf want her -- an average human woman -- as his mate. In hindsight, being an average human woman was exactly what made him want her. Easy prey.

How quickly she'd regretted her decision to let Todd put her in a mating press. After she'd endured the weeks it took for her anatomy to shift into that of his kind, Todd had convinced her they needed to breed as soon as possible. He wanted a large pack, as many pups as she could give him. It didn't take her long to realize they were the only reason he'd claimed her. Days after leaving him, she'd detected the strange smell of sassafras on her skin -- though she wouldn't know what that meant for two months.

The rejection sickness had masked any symptoms of a pregnancy. The effects were like that of withdrawal: fevers high enough to cause delirium, tremors, nausea, and full-body aches. She'd spent endless days and nights confined to the bed of a sleazy motel room. What carried her through was the knowledge that Todd was feeling just as shitty as she was. Yet, in her darkest moments, Fawn considered going back to him just to make it stop.

Then, her world changed when a fellow wolf woman at the drugstore offered congratulations based on her scent. This prompted her to buy a pregnancy test, and the thought of going back never crossed her mind again.

"Fellas?" Fawn asked, still blindfolding herself with her forearm. "Is a large pack, like . . . a status symbol for y'all or something?"

Asher shrugged. "Not as much as it used to be," he said. "It used to be a big deal in the past, like before we had the treaty with humans. That was because our packs needed the numbers for defense. But now? Not as much."

"Except maybe for those freakishly traditional families," Newt chimed in.

"Mmm," Fawn hummed in acknowledgement. She placed her other hand on the upper swell of her belly and gave it a thoughtful rub. "Well, this baby is mine. I'm not giving birth for the sake of some insecure asshole. This is my baby."

"Damn right it is," Newt grinned, his blue eyes glittering in the low light.

After a few seconds of silence, Fawn's limp-hanging hand curled into a fist. "Mmm, Ash . . . " Her voice trailed off into a chesty groan.

Newt looked over at his mate. "Ash, start it."

Asher pulled out his phone with a nod. "Starting."

Newt massaged Fawn's shoulder as she once again pulled back her legs. The pressure in her hips was immense, and the contraction was heaving the baby down with unholy force. Fawn pulled harder on her knees until she felt her pelvis widen, the bones drifting apart like tectonic plates.

"Breathe, Fawn," Newt gently reminded. "You're holding it."

Fawn hissed out her breath like a deflating tire. "God, it's coming down," she groaned. She shut her eyes and whined as the pup pressed harder against her cervix.

"Change position," Asher offered, bending down to see inside the nest. "Let gravity help you out."

Fawn released a high-pitched whimper. "My hips . . . my hips hurt."

"Here, hold on." Newt reached around Fawn and pulled out another of her oversized Squishmallows from the pile. He left his chair and climbed onto the bed, crawling through the opening of the tent with the plushie in-hand. "Sit up, love."

Fawn reluctantly let her legs fall. Her bones were lead. With Newt's help, she got to her knees and straddled herself atop the large pillow plushie so her hips could remain open.

"There, that's better!" Asher said, sitting on the edge of the mattress. His phone screen reflected in his lenses, revealing the contraction had lasted twenty seconds already.

Fawn bent forward onto all-fours, rhythmically dipping her hips into the pillow as the pain climbed higher than it had before. The Omega at her side dug the heel of his hand into her lower back, allowing Fawn to rock back against the counter-pressure. Her deep breathing wavered, each inhale growing shallower until the wolf woman was full-on panting.

"Calm down, you're doing fine," Newt lulled, ghosting his claws over her spine. "Deep breaths, like you were doing."

Sweat appeared in shining beads on Fawn's reddened face, dampening the frizzy curls around her temples. "I can't," she gasped. All four limbs trembled, fatigued muscles giving up the last of their strength. "I can't . . . I need to lie down."

Fawn sank chest-first into the fox plushie, arms unable to support her weight. Her tongue dipped in and out of her mouth as she failed to control of her breathing. Her fingers sank into the duvet, claws tearing holes in the fabric.

The end of the tent unzipped, creating an arch-shaped door that Asher climbed in through. While Newt continued to knead Fawn's back, Asher laid himself beside her.

"Hey, Mama, look at me," he crooned, his face appearing in the corner of her vision. When her hazel eyes met his, he said: "You are owning this! There's no need to get freaked out. You're too tough for labor to beat. Take a deep breath for us, alright?"

Fawn wet her lips and maintained eye contact with the Alpha while she drew in a big breath.

"Good!" Asher smiled, patting her shoulder. "Now let it out and make the next one even deeper. Show that pain who's boss!"

She obeyed, but mid-inhale she choked on air. With a canid yowl, Fawn pressed herself against the Alpha's body. Her hips ground against the pillow, as if it would cushion the force of her pelvis being forced apart.

"Ugh, gravity's helping too much!" Fawn moaned into Asher's shirt. "This pup is about to fall outta me!"

"That's a good thing!" Asher encouraged, draping his arm over her and motioning for his mate to lie down beside them. "You're making progress. The pup will be here before you know it!"

Fawn's hips finally settled as the contraction eased off, but she still felt unable to move. Her pelvis sat wide open, and the hefty weight of the pup was sinking deep inside it -- even without the contraction.

“Augh, fuck,” she moaned, the sound rumbling in her chest. “Fuck . . . the baby feels low. It feels so fucking low!"

"Ash?" Newt asked as he rearranged the pillows to better support the three of them. "Are you still timing?"

Asher caressed Fawn's thigh as she shifted to support her upper body against the mountain of Squishmallows Newt had piled up. Newt reclined on his side beside her, flashing her a bright smile -- his fangs always hung over his lower lip when he smiled.

"No, I think we're just feeling it out now," Asher said. He'd left his phone charging on the nightstand, just in case they needed it. "I think we're 'reaching a checkpoint' as it were."

Newt rolled his eyes. "Gamers."

Fawn snuggled into the pillow mountain, trying in vain to get comfortable. It wasn't as dramatic as what they showed on television, but Fawn knew exactly what the hot rush of fluid was as it soaked the pillow between her legs.

"Umm, hey . . ." She nudged the pillow aside, revealing ribbons of cloudy water running down her inner thighs. "I think it's time to lose the shorts."

Asher pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "And checkpoint reached!"

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

For five hours, no one left that tent. The room grew darker as the evening gave way to the early morning hours of pre-dawn. The boys stayed at either side of the laboring wolf woman, holding her steady in positions that allowed her pup to ease down with gravity.

Between contractions, the three werewolves lay side-by-side in tranquil silence. The sweat on Fawn's brow would dry, her feverish body would cool, but the warmth of two other bodies prevented the chills from returning. That quiet peace would be broken when Fawn vocalized during a new contraction, signaling the boys to sit her up and widen her stance.

Fawn was growing restless, wanting to switch positions several times during every contraction: squatting against the headboard, kneeling against one guy or the other, or falling into a half-squat in a pile of her plush pillows. The longer the night wore on, the more fidgety the laboring mother became.

At around four in the morning, as the trio rested together beneath the fairy lights, Fawn suddenly spoke:

"Is the cradle ready?"

"Hmm?" Asher sat up and readjusted his glasses.

"Is the cradle ready?" Fawn repeated. There was a glint of urgency in her eyes, although her tone was soft and even.

The fold-out mesh bassinet was visible from inside the nest, placed against the opposite wall. The pup's first outfit was already laid out atop the blanket lining the mattress -- a cotton quilt with embroidered rubber duckies that Newt had donated from the stash he was buying for his own pup.

After a quick glance, Asher responded: "Yep, it's ready and waiting."

"Can you grab some extra blankets or something?" Fawn pleaded. She gradually drew her legs up until her heels touched the underside of her thighs. "Just anything that's soft."

Newt sat himself up and gave his mate a knowing look. "Babe? You think this is that 'final nesting' the baby books talked about?"

Asher's eyes widened. "Oh, crap. It might be."

"What?" Fawn asked. She suddenly realized she couldn't remember what either of the boys had just said -- she wasn't fully aware of what was going on around her. It was so, so hard to focus on anything other than the pounding pressure that had come to rest in the curve of her tailbone.

The mated pair gave each other a nod.

"Ash and I have been reading books about pups like crazy this month," Newt explained in a lighthearted tone. "'Final nesting' is just what your brain does right before the pup is ready to come out."

Asher grabbed the corner of the topmost duvet and rolled it towards them until it became a padded cushion. He carefully slid it beneath Fawn and said: "Yep, it's an instinct. Got to make sure the pup has a safe place to land, you know."

Now it was Fawn's turn to go wide-eyed. "Wait . . . wait, is it happening?" she gasped, her head shooting up off the pillows.

"Maybe," Newt said. "You'll know if it is." He placed a pillow over his torso to protect his belly and scooted behind Fawn to support her into a squat.

"And if it isn't, then we'll just wait some more," Asher concluded. "Don't try to bear down if you don't need to."

Fawn nodded, gulping down the dryness in her throat. She had no idea what to expect with the next contraction. If the monstrous pressure she was feeling hadn't triggered her body to push by then . . . oh, God above, what was about to happen to her?

"I don't . . . don't know if I'm ready for this," she muttered.

Newt leaned in and rubbed his cheek against the side of her neck. "You're as ready as you'll ever be," he said. He intertwined his clawed fingers with her own.

Fawn didn't feel the next contraction as pain, only as a familiar tightness wrapping around her womb. All other sensation was snuffed out . . . massacred . . . left bleeding in the streets! . . . by the wicked downward thrust of her pup moving through her effaced cervix. There was nothing holding that baby in her womb any longer, and it was not waiting another minute to leave.

"Oh, my God!" she screamed -- out of fear more so than pain. Her hips jerked back, trying to escape the demonic pressure burning inside.

Newt squeezed her hands -- his claws never marking her skin. "You feel it?"

"Yes!" Fawn cried, her body shuddering under the hellish urge to push.

"Go with it," Asher encouraged, placing his hand on her knee. "Let's meet your pup."

Fawn held her breath and gave a shallow, hesitant first push. She wasn't sure if she was using the correct muscles, but it felt . . . how could she describe it? . . . it felt like she was doing something. A few seconds of strain later, she let up with a sharp yelp. Yes, she'd been doing it right. That slight nudge had sent the pup rushing forward.

"It's moving . . ." was all she had time to say before her body demanded she continue her efforts -- and double them!

Those few millimeters of progress kicked her urge to push into overdrive. Fawn braced her weight against Newt, put chin to chest, and bore down with every ounce of force she could. The crown of the head pressed deeper against her innermost walls with a fiery, thorny tug. The sensation of her baby moving through her after so many passive hours of labor was startling -- yet beyond rewarding.

Had her eyes been open to see, Fawn would have observed Asher's tender smile as he watched primal focus harden her features.

"Just like that, Mama," Asher praised, again stroking her thigh. "Don't hold back, give it your all!"

Sweat trailed down her flushed skin. Unable to hold the push any longer, Fawn emptied her lungs with a harsh grunt.

"It's already hurting me," she growled through closed fangs. Her voice strained as, for just a few horrible seconds, she resisted the urge to push. "Goddamn, this is gonna suck!"

Newt laid his chin on Fawn's shoulder as she sank into another deep push. "Whatever you feel, don't fight it," he offered evenly. "Your body knows what it's doing, Fawn. Listen to what it's telling you to do."

Fawn's ears pressed back against her head as her hips dipped lower to the duvet. She felt a small trickle of fluid drip from her labia, but the flow stopped as soon as she stopped pushing. A groan escaped the back of her throat as the contraction eased off and she was able to relax.

"That was great," Newt praised, unlacing their fingers and letting Fawn have her hands back. "You got the hang of it right off the bat."

Fawn sighed and balled the duvet beneath them in her claws. Her chest rose and fell quickly, and her pulse hammered in her neck. Any sense of physical comfort was gone now, even between contractions. She knew there would be no peace for her until this pup was out and in her arms . . . but God only knew when that would happen. God only knew if that would happen! The pup was barely inside her birth canal and Fawn was already terrified that it was going to get stuck.

"What if . . . what if I can't get it out?" she panted. Her lower back was screaming, so she shifted her hips forward. It didn't help. "What do we do if I can't get it out?!"

"Hey, hey, don't think like that," Newt helped Fawn recline a bit further against him. He steadied her in his arms, his hands gently massaging the curves where her belly met her ribcage. "There's no doubt in our minds that you can do this!"

"And I'm down here if you need a little extra help," Asher said. He carefully took Fawn's leg and draped it over his lap, helping to open her hips now that she was in a more reclined position. "We won't let anything happen to you or your pup, Fawn. That's a promise."

"You're safe here," Newt said in a low, soothing tone. He continued to apply soft pressure to her sides and back, kneading over her sore body as if smoothing out a delicate fabric.

Fawn never doubted for a second that she was in loving hands. She dreaded to think where she would be right now if the pair hadn't opened their home to her. Without their kindness, chances were that she'd be delivering her baby in a motel bathroom or on top of a cot in a homeless shelter. These two had given her the ultimate gift: a warm, safe place to give birth. She owed her pup's life to them.

"I know," Fawn said, snuggling down further into the nest. "I don't want to be anywhere else right now."

Newt bent down and pressed a kiss to Fawn's hairline. "Keep listening to your body. Don't rush what it's trying to do."

Fawn nodded, puffing out a breath as she felt the next contraction roll up from her back to her belly. "Okay . . . let's go."

She took in a slow lungful of air, waited for the contraction to build in strength, and pushed.

Her loosened joints spread easily for the pup's skull as it squeezed its way down her passage. It became an endless pattern: Fawn would push, the head would squeeze down, and her pelvic bones would spread over its shape as it passed beneath them. She could feel the rhythm of the changes.

Push. Squeeze. Spread.

Rest.

Push. Squeeze. Spread. Spread.

Rest.

Push. Squeeze. Spread. Spread. Spre-OW!

OW! OW! Oh, fuck! Now it was so too big! Her hips were filled to the maximum, her canal stretched wide around a huge pair of shoulders as they slipped from her womb. She could feel her labia bulging from between her legs -- and oh, God, they ached! There was nothing but a layer of her skin holding the pup in, and it felt like a bubble of gum about to burst!

But she couldn't stop pushing. Not now, not when everything was raw and stretched and open and hurting so goddamn bad! Fawn curled her toes into the mattress and wailed as she threw herself harder into pushing. Her voice grew louder as she felt the inflamed skin between her legs starting to open.

"Good job, Mama! Here it comes!" Asher cried, his voice raised to be heard over Fawn's roar of effort.

Asher had his eyes glued to the pale, wet sac pressing out of Fawn each time her body strained. He'd read in their books that it was common for werewolf pups to be born with their membranes wrapped around them. That was fine, he just had to be prepared to remove it.

A tiny spurt of fluid leaked out from around the sac as the head began to stretch the skin of the perineum. The pup's size seemed to be keeping most of its sac unruptured, the fluid too pressurized to leave the birth canal. Asher furrowed his brow but said nothing.

Of course, Newt took notice of his mate's unease. He swallowed the unease in his chest, and scented Fawn's hair with his cheek again in the hopes it would distract her.

"Ash sees the head," he crooned. "Keep going, you're pushing like a pro!"

With renewed vigor, Fawn gave into her body's needs. Asher waited until a few centimeters of the solid white membrane stretched open Fawn's lips, then he placed his index finger against the bulging sac to gauge how much fluid was inside. He felt the semi-solid squish of the pup's head just beneath the film, but his finger pad felt the swish of water when he pressed down. That wasn't a very good sign, but Asher still felt confident that he could handle it.

"I'm going to help you out a little, okay?" Asher told Fawn, cupping his hand over the crowning pup. "Focus on pushing, and I'll help you open up. I'll go slow."

Newt once again sensed Asher's unease and made it his mission to protect Fawn from sensing it, too. "Pup's almost out, Fawn," he said as he gave her shoulders a brief hug. "It'll be out quicker with Ash helping you. Just take a deep breath and let yourself stretch."

"I'm trying," Fawn whimpered. "I'm trying."

As Fawn bore down against the pup, Asher ran his fingers against the sides of her lips. He nudged her skin open bit by bit around the sac, watching as it stretched from a small oval to a wide circle over the course of several minutes. Asher cringed as he saw the skin of her labia discolor from a raw red to an almost beet purple with the width of the head.

Fawn, meanwhile, had fallen completely taciturn. Aside from wolfish growls and whimpers, she made no efforts to express her pain verbally. Her focus had shifted solely to bearing through the ordeal, working with her body to bring it to a swift end.

"Keep going, we're almost there!" Asher cheered. He had his hands positioned at the apex of her inner thighs, supporting the tight skin as Fawn pushed the head to its widest point.

Fawn shuddered and let her head fall back on Newt's chest. Her mind was a mess of black static as the pup's shoulders ground against her pubic bone. She arched her spine as the pup ceased to move for one heart-stopping moment. Then, in a sudden lurch, the sac-covered head popped free into Asher's waiting hands.

"Awesome! Awesome, Fawn!" Newt cheered, peering over her shoulder as much as he could. He could see the white membrane resting in his mate's palm. "Babe, you got it?"

Asher nodded. "I've got it, don't worry."

Without drawing attention to it, Asher took the claw of his thumb and carefully -- oh-so-carefully -- punctured the membrane at the base of where he felt the pup's neck should be. A quiet sploosh filled the nesting tent as amniotic fluid rushed over Asher's hands. He hooked his claw inside the tear and slowly peeled the sac over the pup's head.

There wasn't much hair on the pup's head -- unusual, though not uncommon -- but that wasn't what Asher was looking for. He craned his neck at a painful angle until he could catch a glimpse of the pup's face. When he saw it, he paled. The features were predictably swollen, but the puffy lips were hanging open and dripping a thick yellowish mucus. Asher thanked the stars above that he and his partner had read up about whelping -- for he was able to recognize the tell-tale symptom of waterlogged lungs.

The mates locked eyes with each other and nothing else needed to be said or done. They both understood.

"This is it, love," Newt said, leaning in to help Fawn hold her legs apart. "This next contraction is going to be the one."

Fawn's jaw gaped like a suffocating fish, but finally her voice obeyed her command: "Is my baby okay?"

Oh, hell. She must've smelled the pheromones of their stress. Newt had been hoping she wouldn't understood what the scent of fear was, yet.

Newt smiled at her and brushed her sweat-plastered hair away from her eyes. "They're fine, they just need some extra help."

"When you push, I'll give them a little tug," Asher said. "It's going to hurt, but it'll be over before you know it."

Fawn squeezed her eyes shut. "Can't hurt any worse than this," she mumbled. "Just do it."

The boys were expecting the horrific scream Fawn released when Asher began guiding out the first shoulder, but it still made their sensitive ears ring.

"You're so strong, Fawn!" Newt said into her ear. He felt her legs trying to close against the pain, and he had to pause to pull them back apart. "I know it hurts, but you're handling it so well! We're so proud of you!"

Asher kept his focus locked on delivering the pup as fast and as safe as possible. One hand supported the pup's body while the other pulled down on the emerging shoulder.

"Come on, little guy," Asher muttered under his breath. "Come on, you can do it."

With an audible pop of Fawn's hip joints -- and another yowl from the wolf woman herself -- the pup's first shoulder slipped free. Asher wasted zero time in hooking his thumb under the tiny arm and continuing his steady, gentle tug.

A rather disgusting squelch accompanied the pup as it slid onto the duvet. The remains of the membrane bunched around its feet as Asher scooped it into his hands. The body was grey and limp, and all three heartbeats stalled.

"What's wrong?!" Fawn cried. "What's wrong with it?!" She reached for her baby on instinct, but Newt held her back.

"It's okay!" he said, adjusting himself to block her veiw of Asher and the baby. "It's okay, I swear! Asher's taking care of it."

Newt stroked her sweaty face with the back of his hand, doing anything he could think of to soothe her. It didn't stop the tears from flooding the exhausted mother's eyes.

Behind his mate's back, Asher brought the pup's face to his lips. His mouth easily covered the nose and mouth of the newborn, and he gently sucked the sour-tasting fluid out of its airway. Asher spit the gunk into his sleeve and repeated the action, rubbing his thumb against the baby's chest as he did.

It was a process that lasted less than twenty seconds, but to all three werewolves it felt like eternity. But eternity ended when the pup sucked in a deep, squeaking breath. The sound of its first cry was shrill, but to the trio it sounded like singing.

Asher couldn't help but start crying as the little body he'd resurrected wiggled to life in his hands. "Here he is!" he said, voice wavering with joyful tears.

Newt sat back immediately, allowing Fawn to see the baby alive and well in Asher's arms.

"Here's our boy!" Asher announced, laying the crying baby over his mother's heart.

Through the haze of her tears, Fawn looked over every detail of her little boy. She saw the layer of damp fuzz covering his skin, the points on his pink, folded-over ears, and the coating of protective skin over his miniscule claws. She thanked whatever power was out there for that last detail, because such tiny needles would've been horrible to feel coming out.

"Sweetheart," she told the baby, wrapping her arms around him, "don't make a habit outta scaring me like that."

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

"Is he already nursing again?" Newt asked as he placed the glass of water on the nightstand.

"He eats like a horse," Fawn chuckled, adjusting the nursing pillow under her baby. Jacob was the name she had settled on.

The sun was coming up now, filling her bedroom with a soft white light. Asher was on the floor, disassembling the nesting tent. It would be taken out again in a few months for Newt to use, but the Alpha was determined to Tetris the pieces correctly into their box.

Jacob was an aggressive nurser. Three hours old and this was his third time demanding his mother's milk. Newt and Asher insisted such an appetite was normal for a larger werewolf pup, but Fawn wasn't too thrilled to learn she was going to get even less sleep than she anticipated with a new baby.

Fawn quickly drained the glass of water. She wasn't sure if she would ever feel not-thirsty again. "So, Newt," she said, "I didn't scare you into wanting a C-section, did I?"

"Nah, not at all." Newt laid down on the bed beside Fawn, propping himself against the Squishmallow pile. "If you could get him out, I'm pretty sure I'll be okay."

Newt pet the thin strands of hair on Jacob's head. The newborn swiped a clumsy, mitten-covered fist over his head with a teeny-tiny growl. All three adults stopped and stared.

"Was that him?!" Asher asked from the floor.

"Yeah . . ." Newt said, withdrawing his hand. "He's very protective of his food."

Asher almost fell over laughing. "That's Alpha behavior if I've ever seen it!"

"How do you guys even determine that stuff?" Fawn asked. "Is it a sex thing?"

"Eh, a bit," Newt shrugged, "but it's also a personality thing." He tickled the folded tip of Jacob's soft ear, and got the same response as before.

"Ow!" Fawn jerked as her son bit down on her breast. "Stop annoying him, or I'm biting you, too!"

"Sorry," Newt chuckled.

"I can't thank you boys enough for this," Fawn said. "This werewolf shit is all sorts of weird for me, and . . . now I know for certain that Jacob wouldn't have been alright if you weren't with me."

"That's what packs do," Asher said, re-folding a segment of nylon tarp. "We look out for each other."

"Do we even . . . " Fawn stopped herself mid-sentence and looked away.

Newt grinned and touched his forehead to Fawn's temple. "I don't know. What do you think?"

Fawn grinned in return and rubbed her cheek against his hair, leaving her scent on his skin.

[wally-darling-hyperfixation]

Happy Birthday Wally: Actor Wally x Stage hand one off

Do not tag clown bee cause they don’t want to be tagged in written fan art but for everyone else to se HAPPY BIRTHDAY CLOWN AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY EVERYONE WHO HAS BIRTHDAY TODAY 🎂 make sure to keep you eyes out for random birthday cakes

🍎Today was just another day for Wally. Drive to the stage area. Park his car in his private spot. Head on in to go to his dressing room and get a team to do his makeup. He actually forgot it was his birthday because the week had been so busy. They had been making a Mother’s Day post and talking about moms on the show and people who we see as moms. It was exhausting to Wally. He never really talks about his mother. Though he loves her a lot. He just gets so busy with work that he barely has time to contact family. He heads to the stage shooing away the makeup artists who finished with him so he can go to wardrobe. He notices you and his fellow cast mates whispering but is whisked away to be in todays outfit.

🎬 You were talking with the cast the other day and they told you about Wally’s birthday. Barnaby told you how busy they all been lately and how Wally may have forgotten. So you all got together and formed the Wally Birthday 🎂 surprise group. Poppy would bake the cake. Howdy would get the supplies and Sally would decorate. Since those three weren’t in this weeks episode. They really wanted to help out. So you tell them to bring everything to the dressing room on Wally’s birthday and while everyone is filming the show , they set up for the surprise party. You watch Wally walk by and wait for him to leave the dressing and as soon as he left , the party set up started!

🍎 Wally exits the dressing rooms and sees that Howdy , Poppy, and Sally walk away. He just assumes they going to go chill at the food court area since they weren’t in todays episode. He watches you run around seeming to do even more extra stuff. He wonders what you are doing but he does the episode. Barnaby was talking about his chicken mother. Julie was talking about her oldest sister who she sees as a mom. Frank talked about how his mother used to put bandages on his knee when he fell and Eddie talked about how his mother made the best biscuits he ever had. Wally talks about his mother with the others as they record the show. Not knowing what was happening behind the scenes. Soon enough. They finished filming and everyone packed up. His friends left him like they ran. He was confused . But he heads to wardrobe to get in his regular clothes.

🎬You hush everyone. Making sure they have their gifts in their hands for Wally knowing he would be coming in. The door slowly opens and in comes Wally. You all yell , “SURPRISE !!! Happy Birthday Wally!!!” Confetti flew at him and his face looked shocked. Poppy showed a cake that had his face on it. 🎂 He was so shocked . Everyone hand their gifts and gave him hugs and sang happy birthday and he just smiles tearing up. You hand him your gift last. He opens it and it was a picture of all of them when you first started working together with them. “Thank you (y/n). And thank you for the birthday party,” he says which surprises you. He guessed right it was you. “I got one last gift for you Wally,” you say and give him a cheek kiss finally showing you like him . “Happy birthday Wally,” you say after it and his face turns bright red but he just sighs happily looking at you. “Thank you (y/n) ,” he holds your arm after was swooning over you . Best birthday ever

Ta Da. Some little fluff for my darling. Happy birthday to Clown and everyone else who has a birthday this month!!!!!

Wally tags: @akilaporu001

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by @chennqingg <3 | divider by @jiyaxedits <3

Through The Years

Jotun!King!Loki Laufeyson x fem!Æsir!Queen!Reader

Summary: This story takes you and Loki on a journey through the twins life. From their first steps all the way to their first time falling in love.

Warnings for this Chapter: bit angst? sad/slightly desperate Loki, drama, yelling? fluff

Word Count: 3k

a/n: This chapter is a very important one, I'd say. After all, we are going to find out who is going to be the heir to the throne! 👀

Also, I thought I post this today, because it's Tomathy's birthday! 🥳🥰

Tags: @eleniblue @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jaidenhawke @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @multifandom-worlds @huntedmusicgardenn @lokiforever @captain-camille @lokisgoodgirl @smolvenger @hisredheadedgoddess28 @glitchquake @chennqingg @icytrickster17 @princess-ofthe-pages @crimson25 @buttercupcookies-blog @elegantcheesecakecrown @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @loz-3 @herdetectivetheorist @simping-for-marvel @km-ffluv @stupidthoughtsinwriting @jennyggggrrr @lady-rose-moon @salvinaa @lovingchoices14 @irishhappiness @sheris532 @princessdragon23 @xxannyxx

❄️ Chapter Three ❄️ Chapter Five ❄️

Ice Flower AU Masterlist ❄ Loki Masterlist ❄ Masterlist

Chapter Four - The Crown Prince

"What bothers you, my king?" You asked your husband in a soft, hushed voice - not to startle him. He was standing on the big balcony of your shared chambers, gazing into distance. Loki and the landscape to his feet were bathed in bright, soft blue moonlight; illuminating the dark. Summers on Jotunheim were beautiful, you learned. Some might would not expect this, but it was true. It wasn't super warm though, unlike on Asgard. Warm enough to grow crops and such, but that was it. Certainly not warm enough to run around naked - at least for you. While Loki stood there in nothing but his sleep loincloth, you were tightly wrapped up in your Asgardian dressing gown - plus some warm fur slippers. The nights were colder anyway.

"Is it what I think it is?" You questioned him further; now wrapping your hands around his strong torso; hugging him from behind. "The announcement?" You felt how Loki took a deep breath and sighed, "Yes, my queen." before he put his big hands on your smaller ones. "I... I am afraid I made the wrong decision and..." You ran your thumb in a caressing manner over the bulging muscles of his abs. "And?" He swallowed. "I never wanted to choose. I knew from the moment they were born that I had to one day, but... I never wanted to carry this burden. Why cannot decide someone else? The people? Or our advisors?" You sighed as well, knowing how bad he felt. "I know, my love, I know, but... Unfortunately, it's the king's decision. It always was; always will be." He scoffed, clearly affected by all this. "I remember that day... Clearly. Father chose Thor. Being the first born was to his advantage, but... Nevertheless, Odin would've chosen my brother. He believed he was the better king. Wiser. More mature. I accepted it - and in the end, I'm glad he didn't choose me. Because if he had, who knows if our paths ever crossed? I doubt it." The king squeezed your hands gently; loving - bathing in your embrace. "Well, I am glad, too, love. I am lucky to call you my queen now - and wife. I wouldn't want any other princess. Just you. Always you..." He muttered, pausing. "But this is different... Our boys are twins. No first born. No one of them has an advantage. By the norns, I wouldn't even want that... We always treated them equally - how it should be and now... Now I am forced to favour one of them. As a father, this is cruel."

Your heart broke at his words. You knew very well how he must feel. It wasn't fair - but that was a burden of being alive... Sometimes it was just not fair. "I know, my love, I know," you whispered and pressed a lingering kiss on the soft skin of his bare back. "I find this just as cruel as you do. Parents shouldn't have to ever put one child over the others and it's just not fair, but... Life unfortunately isn't fair..." You spoke the words on your mind, but stopped to press another reassuring kiss on his skin. "You need to remind yourself that this is a decision you make as a king. Not as a father." You could hear your husband swallowing again, before he turned in your embrace and lowered his upper body, in order to press his forehead against yours. "Should I mirror your words in front of them? Tell Áki and Váli that I'd never make this decision as a father, but have to as a king?" You nodded. "Yes. I think it would be important for them to know." Another deep sigh left your husband's lips. "I hope they'll understand... I don't know what to do if they don't."

You loosened your grip around his torso and lifted your hands to cup his cheeks; giving Loki a soft smile. "They'll understand. I know they will." The king nodded, squeezed his eyes shut and held you even closer. You let him, of course, enjoyed the tight embrace you were in.

"Let's go to bed, my king, shall we?" "Yes." You led Loki back to your marital bed then, sunk together with him in the sheets and held him close. It was just what he needed that night. The undying, unshakeable love and support of his wife.

Nevertheless, didn't have Loki a restful night. He tossed and turned from time to time; thoughts running wild inside his head. That was the reason why he was up quite early; watching the sun rise over Jotunheim.

You woke up with the sun as well; sleepy eyes searching for your husband. "Loki?" "Over here, my love." Your eyes followed his voice. He was sitting on the settee in front of the empty fireplace; gaze settled on you. "Good morning, darling." You smiled sleepy; stretching your limbs. "Good morning." You could feel his beautiful ruby eyes on you; watching you with an overwhelming amount of love and gentleness. But when your gaze met his, you could also see how troubled he was. Still. Your expression softened. "C'mere, my love." Reaching out your hand towards him, you waited for him to take it.

It only took him a few seconds to bridge the distance between the settee and bed; eagerly taking your hand into his and intertwining your fingers. You pulled him gently closer, until his legs hit the edge of the bed and he had no other choice but to lean down. With a soft, loving smile, you caught his lips with yours; kissing him lazily. Loki's eyes fluttered shut; heart beating faster. He'd never get tired of kissing you. Never.

"Have you decided yet?" Your sweet voice urged to his ears; pulling the king down on the harsh reality. Perhaps he got lost in your eyes for a few moments... With a deep sigh he nodded, "I have, yes." and told you this important decision.

"What do you think of it? Do I... Do I make the right choice, my queen?" Loki was so uncertain and troubled. You'd even go as far and say that he was afraid. So, you tried your best to comfort him. Just like you did last night. "I'd say you do, yes." You said honestly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "He'll make a great further king. I am convinced by that."

Mere hours later, the king of Jotunheim was in his throne room, sitting upon his throne. His leg bounced nervously up and down; he definitely felt the burden of the upcoming event on his shoulders, weighing him down. Like hypnotized, he stared on the big doors, waiting for them to open - which they did only a few minutes later, revealing two guards and his twin sons. The guards let them in, took a bow and closed the doors again, leaving the three men alone.

"You wanted to see us, dad?" Áki was the first one to talk; being definitely the braver twin. Puberty changed the young men, of course, but not their characters. Áki was brave and talkative, while Váli was shyer and more reserved. Not that Váli didn't have braveness within him, but not as much as his brother.

Loki nodded, took a deep breath. "How to begin with?" He muttered to himself, before standing up and stepped closer to his sons. "I have to talk with you both about something important. But not here. Let's take a walk, shall we?" Said and done. Father and sons left the palace only minutes later. "Do we have to be afraid of what you need to tell us?" Váli asked, eyeing Loki with a slightly worried gaze. "No, it's... It's..." The king took another breath. "You are now 20 years old. You've grown into big, strong and wise men - without a doubt. And I couldn't be prouder of you. I really am - and so is your mother." The twin brothers exchanged a sceptical look. Not that they never heard those words from their father before, no - quite the opposite, but... Something in Loki's voice was different. Áki and Váli could tell. "You learned so much in all those years. About Jotunheim, about your heritage, about how to act as princes - and you're doing it to perfection." Loki paused. "It is time for me to make a decision. I avoided it for a long time; tried to escape it, but... I can't do it much longer. Our people, the advisors - yes, the whole kingdom expects from me to finally decide. And I have. I had to."

Váli frowned at his father, while Áki already had a guess. "What is this all about, dad?" Loki sighed. "The throne. My successor." Váli was definitely more surprised than his brother. "T-The throne? You are telling us who the crown prince is going to be?" "Exactly, my son." Áki just nodded. "We're ready for it. I am ready for it." Loki smiled at his sons. "I know you both are. I just don't know if I am ready. Well, I guess I'll never be - but that doesn't matter." The king swallowed hard. "But before I am going to tell you this, I want you both to know that it wasn't an easy decision for me. I thought long about this. Mostly even at night. I want you to know, that I made this decision as a king - not as a father. I never would. My love for you is equally strong. It always was and it always will be. I love you more than life itself, my sons." Áki smiled, just like his brother. "We love you, too." Váli agreed. "We do - and we know that you'd never favour one of us above the other as a father, but have to as a king."

Those words meant a lot to Loki; helping to ease his fear and worries a bit. He stopped and turned to place a hand on a shoulder of each twin. "This means a lot to me. I'm glad you understand. Now that that's settled..." Loki swallowed hard. "Váli, Áki... Each of you is perfectly qualified for the throne, but... I'd like you to be the future king of Asgard, Váli." The young man's eyes widened. He absolutely hadn't seen that coming. He always had expected his brother to be the future king. Áki was stronger, braver - a warrior and a true Jotun, while Váli was... Just himself. A bit dreamy, quiet and had his nose always buried in a book. Despite that, he looked like his mother - an Æsir. Not Jotun. Was that really what his father wanted? What the people wanted?

"W-What? M-Me?" Loki nodded. "Yes, you, Váli." "B-But... Why?" The king smiled softly. "Because you are smart, wise and kind. You always make the right decisions. You are well-read and know how to rule." Váli was literally speechless. His lips moved, but now words left his mouth. "And I am not?!" The angry, clearly jealous voice of Áki cut through the air. Loki quickly redirected his attention, looked his other son in the eyes. "I never said that, Áki. You are smart and wise. You have a lot of kindness in you as well, but-" "But what?!" The furious prince literally spat. "You're a bit hot-headed. You have so much passion and energy flowing through your veins. You, my son, are the greatest warrior I have ever seen. Even greater than I am - which is why I believe, that it would be better for you to defend our home. Make sure it's safe. I want you to stand at your brother's side as his first advisor and leader of our army."

Unlike his brother, Áki rather had expected to be crowned future king. He always found himself perfect for this. Worthy of becoming a king. He didn't want to be jealous of his brother. He really didn't, because he loved Váli dearly. But the heat of the moment and his slightly hot-headed nature blinded him.

Áki answered nothing to his father's almost desperate try to explanation. He just scoffed and stormed off, leaving a distraught Loki behind. This certainly didn't go as planned. That was exactly what Loki always wanted to prevent... What he was fleeing from...

It was already quite late, when Loki decided to approach his son again, in order to talk to him. The king knew, that he couldn't spend the night in peace without having talked to Áki. You told Loki to give him some space, which he understood - but he couldn't wait any longer. He had to talk to him. So, Loki went to his chambers, but found them empty. Áki wasn't there. It didn't stop the king, though. He had a guess, knew exactly where he would most likely find the prince. While Váli preferred to escape into the secret room in the library, whenever he needs to be alone, his brother fled to the training grounds. That's where Loki went next - and he was successful. Áki was there, letting out all his anger and frustration on a Jotun sized target. His sword beat down on it, over and over again; abusing the wooden surface and causing it to splinter. Loki took a deep breath, feeling his nerves again.

"Son..." Áki immediately stopped at the sound of his father's voice. Breathing heavily, with his chest rising and falling quickly, he turned around to face Loki. "What do you want?" "I want to talk with you." Áki released a breathless, derisive chuckle. "Didn't we already talk enough?" Another deep sigh left Loki's lips; desperation crawling up in him once again. "Please, Áki. I know this frustrates you, but-" "No!" The young prince cuts him off. "I don't understand your motives, father! We both know I'd be the better king!" Áki insisted; fury ruby eyes meeting his father's identical ones. "I never denied that! I know you'd be a great king!" "Then why I won't get to be king?!" Loki inhaled sharply and closed his eyes for a moment. "Because of your temper and hot-headed nature. Those aren't exceptionally bad characteristics - and you know that, but-" "But what?!" The prince spat. "Let me finish my sentence, young man, and you'll hear!" Loki had a short fuse sometimes as well. Like father, like son... Áki clapped his mouth shut at Loki's small outburst and took a submissive step back; turned into a little boy again within seconds. "A-Apologies, father." Loki gave him an intense look and crossed his arms over his chest. "I believe that you can use those... abilities of yours way better in being the leader of our army. You fit perfectly in this role. You were always destined to be a warrior. Just like I am. Just like your mother was." The king's anger deflagrated quickly again, when he saw the hurt and sorrowful look in his son's eyes. A little boy once again, indeed.

Loki sighed and stepped closer to his son; placed a hand on his bare shoulder. "Look, I... That is exactly what I always wanted to prevent. What I always was afraid of - since yours and your brother's birth. I knew I had to choose someday - and it scared me to death. Because of that. Because I had to disappoint one of you. I am sorry, son. I truly am. I... I hoped I would be able to compensate your loss of the throne with the position as the leader of our warriors and first advisor, ruling at your brother's side and supporting him like nobody else could..." Loki swallowed, "But I'm afraid, I failed." and shook his head. "But my decision stands. My offer stands." He sighed. "Again, I am truly sorry, Áki. I hope that one day you can wrap your head around this and forgive me - and perhaps accept my gift for you. You can be angry. You have every right to be angry, but please... Don't blame your brother for this. Don't let him feel your wrath." With those words Loki let go of Áki and stepped back in order to leave. "And please... Don't let me lose my son. I couldn't bear it." The king knew when he lost - and that was the case, so he turned around and walked away.

What he didn't expect, though, was Áki's voice, holding him back. "Dad, wait!" He almost yelled, before adding in a quiet voice: "Please..." Loki stopped dead in his tracks. "I... I didn't mean to react the way I did. I shouldn't have reacted that way. It was... inappropriate." Loki swallowed and turned around slowly to face Áki again. "You're right. I have a temper... And I am hot-headed as well. It took over. I got lost in the heat of the moment. I should be grateful for what you're giving me... Not angry." Loki's words hit the young prince; cleared his foggy brain. He could see straight again. "If anyone should be sorry, it's me. Please forgive me, dad." Áki lowered his head in shame and regret.

The king couldn't believe his ears. His son's opinion changed within seconds. His heart skipped undeniably a beat; hoping for an immediate reconciliation with his son.

Loki stepped closer again - and once more found his hand the young warrior's shoulder. This gesture caused him to lift his head again; looking straight in his father's eyes. All Loki could see now in those pools of red was regret and pure honesty. He smiled softly. "Apology accepted." Áki's eyes widened. "W-What? Really?" Loki nodded. "Yes. Like I said... You had every right to be angry. I often acted the same way when I was your age." "Really?" "Really." "S-So... You're forgiving me?" Another smile grazed Loki's cerulean lips. "Of course, son. You're forgiven - but... Apologise to your brother as well. He's blaming himself already the whole day... He even thought about refusing the throne, handing it over to you and learning to fight...." Áki's eyes widened. "By the norns... Of course, I am going to apologise!"