#of mainly angst tbh...

[isacksteban]

Before — 4 out of ? (last part)

Marc leaned back in his chair, staring blankly at the telemetry in front of him. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, casting a harsh glow on the screens that displayed endless rows of data: throttle percentages, brake pressures, lap times.

Normally, this was where Marc found solace — in the precision, in the control. The data was supposed to make sense, to provide answers. But today, it was just noise. Just meaningless numbers and lines that blurred together, his mind refusing to process any of it.

He had managed to push through practice, forcing himself to focus on the track, on the bike beneath him, even though his heart wasn’t in it. The adrenaline of the session had carried him through, numbing the emotions that simmered beneath the surface. But now, sitting alone in the garage, the silence was deafening. The tension from two weeks ago still weighed on him, a heavy, invisible force that pressed down on his shoulders and made it hard to breathe.

Marc glanced at the door of the garage, half-expecting Marco to walk in at any moment. But he knew better. Marco was next door, in the VR46 garage with Valentino. Marc hadn’t see him yet, and a part of him was grateful for that. He didn’t want to see him, not after everything that had happened. It was easier this way — or so he kept telling himself. Easier to avoid the confrontation, to pretend that nothing had changed. But deep down, Marc knew it was a lie. Avoidance didn’t erase the memories. It didn’t make the guilt of goinh down on Marco in the same bed he slept next to Gemma in go away.

He shifted in his seat, the leather creaking beneath him as he tried to focus on the telemetry again. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the image of Marco standing at his door, bruised and broken, asking for comfort that Marc had ultimately pushed away. That Marc had sworn he'd give him. Sworn he'd be different than Valentino. It was foolish, thinking he was better than the older Italian man. Valentino's love was the only kind he'd ever known. He didn't know how to give Marco the softness he so deeply craved.

From the thin wall separating their garages, Marc could hear faint voices seeping through the cracks. Valentino’s unmistakable tone drifted in first, that easy, confident cadence laced with amusement as he laughed at something Bez had said. The sound was light, casual, but it gnawed at Marc in a way he couldn't ignore. His gut twisted, an all-too-familiar mix of jealousy and regret creeping up on him like an unwanted shadow.

Marc gritted his teeth, trying to push it down, trying to focus on the telemetry in front of him, but the noise from the other side of the wall was relentless. It filled the silence of his own garage, drowning out any hope of distraction. He clenched his jaw and turned his attention back to the screen, desperately clinging to the numbers, the data, anything to anchor him in the present and away from the memories that threatened to surface.

But then, cutting through Valentino's laughter, he heard it — Marco’s voice. Low, tense, with an edge that made Marc's heart skip a beat. It wasn't like the playful tone he usually associated with Marco in the paddock, where he bantered with the other academy riders and the teams mechanics. No, this was different. More serious. More strained. The sound of it sent an involuntary shiver down Marc’s spine, his body betraying the calm facade he was trying so hard to maintain.

He leaned forward in his chair, instinctively straining to hear more, to catch even a fragment of what Marco was saying. It was a ridiculous impulse, he knew that. Eavesdropping wouldn’t change anything, wouldn’t make the past two weeks any less painful, but he couldn’t help himself. Marco was so close — just on the other side of that thin wall — and yet he felt a million miles away. That wall might as well have been a fortress for all the good it did Marc.

The familiar ache settled in his chest, that gnawing emptiness that had taken root ever since Marco had left his room that night in Silverstone. And now, hearing Marco's voice, his Marco's voice, knowing he was right there with Valentino, only made it worse.

Marc’s fingers dug into the edge of the seat below him, the metal biting into his skin as a surge of jealousy flared up inside him. He could hear Valentino’s voice so clearly now, the way he laughed and encouraged Marco, and it twisted something deep in Marc’s gut. He hated it. Hated that Valentino was the one there with Marco, the one offering him comfort and support.

It should have been him. Marc clenched his jaw, trying to push the thought away, but it was impossible. He was the one who understood Marco’s pain, who knew what it was like to carry the weight of the crashes, the injuries, and the pressure to keep going despite it all. Ok, sure Valentino understood all of that, too, but he was the one who had held Marco when he was vulnerable, who had seen the cracks beneath his confident exterior. And now, Valentino was swooping in, offering the comfort that Marc had denied Marco two weeks ago.

The sound of Valentino’s voice grated on his nerves, each word a reminder of how much he had been hurt by the man who now sat just on the other side of the wall. Valentino had been everything to him once — mentor, lover, rival — and the way things had ended between them had left scars that still hadn’t healed. Marc had been crushed by Valentino’s coldness, by the way he had been discarded when things got tough. And now, to see Valentino playing the supportive figure for Marco… it was too much.

Marc’s grip tightened on the desk, his knuckles turning white. He couldn’t stand the thought of Valentino anywhere near Marco, not after everything that had happened between them. He couldn't stand the thought of Vale manipulating a handful of riders just because he knew he could. They didn't deserve that. Marco didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve to be hurt the way Marc had been.

But at the same time, Marc knew that he had pushed Marco away. He had been the one to tell him to go to Pecco, to find comfort elsewhere. And now, here he was, wishing he could take it all back. Wishing he could be the one by Marco’s side, reassuring him, holding him the way he had that night. But he had made his choice. He had drawn the line, and now he had to live with the consequences.

Through the thin wall, Valentino’s voice cut through again, this time softer, more intimate. “You’re doing great, Bez. Just keep pushing. You’ll get it.”

Marc’s stomach churned at the words. He didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to picture Valentino kneeling before the younger man, hand on his shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile. It brought back too many memories, too much pain. He wanted to be the one telling Marco he was doing great, that he would get through this. But he wasn’t. And now, Valentino was filling that role, the same way he had once done for Marc before everything fell apart.

Marc exhaled sharply, trying to shove the emotions down, trying to focus on anything but the voices coming through the wall. But it was no use. All he could think about was Marco, and the fact that Valentino was the one offering him comfort, the way he had once offered it to Marc before leaving him behind.

In the next room, Marco forced a smile as he nodded along to Valentino’s words. He could feel Marc’s presence, even though they were separated by a wall. He saw the Gresini colours through the cracks, heard the quiet Catalan from the other side, heard that name. He wished it was Alex sharing a wall with him, leaning against the same cutout of drywall as him, it would hurt less if that was the case. Every laugh from Valentino stung, every word of encouragement felt like salt in a wound he couldn’t quite heal. But he kept his head down, pretending that everything was fine. Pretending that Marc’s rejection hadn’t left him feeling more alone than ever.

Valentino clapped a hand on Marco’s shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts. “Don’t let it get to you, Bez. You’ve got this. You’re stronger than you think.”

Marco offered a weak smile in return. “Yeah. I’ll do my best.”

The words felt hollow in his mouth. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up. Especially with Marc just on the other side of the wall.

In Marc’s garage, he leaned forward, burying his face in his hands, his elbows digging into the tacky leather of his suit. The weight of his own guilt pressed down on him like a vice, making it hard to breathe. Gemma had stopped by earlier, offering him soft words of encouragement, but her presence hadn’t lifted the oppressive cloud hanging over him. If anything, it had only made things worse. She had looked at him with so much concern, so much love, and all Marc could think about was how undeserving he was of any of it.

He didn’t deserve her kindness, her loyalty — not when he was still so tangled up in thoughts of Marco. Not when every time he looked at her, all he could see was the betrayal in her eyes if she ever found out what he had done. He had cheated on her with another rider, and no amount of excuses could erase that. The guilt gnawed at him, a constant reminder of how far he had fallen.

Marc clenched his fists, the tension in his body coiling tighter with each passing second. He could hear the murmur of voices through the thin wall separating his garage from VR46, muffled but unmistakable. Marco’s voice cut through the low hum of conversation, softer this time, almost as if he were talking to himself.

“I’m trying, Vale. I really am.”

The quiet desperation in Marco’s voice pierced through Marc’s defenses, driving a sharp ache into his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it out, but the words lingered, wrapping around him like chains. He knew what it was like to try so hard, to push through the pain and the doubt, only to feel like it was never enough. He knew how much Marco was struggling, both physically and emotionally, and it tore at him that he couldn’t do anything about it.

He wanted to reach out, to tell Marco that he understood, that he knew exactly what it was like to fight against your own body and mind. He wanted to tell him that he was trying too, that every day was a battle just to keep going. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. The line had already been drawn, and he couldn’t cross it now, no matter how much he wanted to.

So instead, he sat there, listening to Marco’s voice through the wall, every word cutting into him like a knife. He could hear Valentino’s low, reassuring tone, could imagine the way the older man was probably looking at Marco right now, offering him the kind of comfort that Marc had refused to give. It twisted something deep inside him, a bitter mix of jealousy and regret that he couldn’t shake.

Why had it come to this? Why was Valentino the one Marco turned to now? After everything that had happened between them, Marc didn’t want Valentino anywhere near Marco. He didn’t trust him, didn’t believe for a second that Valentino wouldn’t end up hurting Marco the same way he had hurt him all those years ago. Marc had been in Marco’s shoes once, desperate for validation, for affection, and Valentino had taken that and twisted it into something painful, something damaging. The scars from that time still lingered, buried deep beneath the surface, but they were there. And Marc didn’t want Marco to go through the same thing.

But what choice did he have? He had pushed Marco away, told him to find comfort elsewhere. And now, that comfort was coming from the one person Marc didn’t want involved. The one person who had left him broken and alone.

Marc’s grip tightened on the edge of the desk until his knuckles turned white, the pressure grounding him, keeping him from spiraling too far into his own thoughts. He couldn’t let himself go there, couldn’t afford to let his emotions take control. Not now, not when everything was so precariously balanced. He had made his bed, and now he had to lie in it, no matter how much it hurt.

Through the wall, he could hear Marco’s voice again, quieter now, like he was struggling to keep it together. Marc’s heart clenched painfully in his chest, the urge to get up, to go to him, almost overwhelming. But he stayed where he was, forcing himself to remain still, to do nothing. Because that’s all he could do now — nothing.

Marco leaned back in the chair in the corner of the garage, his legs bouncing with nervous energy. He stared at his phone, willing Alessandro to respond. His mind was racing, and the weight of everything he was carrying felt too heavy.

"Ale," he typed out, his fingers moving faster than he could think.

"ALESSANDRO."

"Pls come back."

"Sto impazzendo."

Minutes ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity. Marco bit down on his lip, glancing up at the team bustling around him, seemingly oblivious to the storm inside him. He needed Alessandro here. Alessandro was the only one who knew. The only one he could talk to about… Marc.

Finally, his phone buzzed with a reply.

"omw 🤙"

Marco let out a shaky breath, his body sagging in relief. Alessandro would understand. He always did. He was the only one that could.

A few minutes later, Alessandro appeared in the doorway, his face immediately softening when he saw the look on Marco’s face. He walked over quickly, concern etched in his features.

"Hey, what’s going on?" Alessandro asked, his voice low as he pulled a chair over to sit next to Marco, the garage emptier now, safer without Vale lingering since he had found his way to the Ducati garage by now.

Marco looked down at his hands, twisting his fingers together. "It’s… him," he muttered, barely above a whisper.

Alessandro sighed softly, leaning in closer to hear him better. "What about him?"

Marco took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I heard him. Through the wall. I know he’s there, Ale. And I can’t stop thinking about him."

Alessandro frowned, glancing at the wall Marco had mentioned. "Did he say anything?"

"No… not really. But… he’s there. And it’s just…" Marco trailed off, his voice catching in his throat. "It’s stupid. You know?"

Alessandro nodded slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes. "Yeah, I know."

Marco swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words. "I keep trying to move on. To focus on racing, on the team, on anything else. But every time I hear his voice, it’s like everything comes rushing back. Everything that happened between us. Especially last time."

Alessandro leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he listened. He had been there when things had fallen apart between Marco and Marc. He had seen the aftermath, the pain that Marco had tried so hard to hide from everyone else. And he had been the one Marco had confided in when it all became too much.

"What do you want to do about it?" Alessandro asked gently, his voice calm and steady.

Marco shook his head, frustration bubbling up inside him. "I don’t know. I want to talk to him, but I can’t. Not after everything. It’s just… too much. And then there’s Vale, and… I don’t know what to do, Ale. I feel like I’m losing my mind."

Alessandro reached out, placing a reassuring hand on Marco’s shoulder. "You’re not losing your mind, Marco. You’re just dealing with a lot right now. But you’ve got me, hm? I’m here. Whatever you need."

Marco looked up at him, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and despair. "Thanks, Ale. I don’t know what I’d do without you."

Alessandro gave him a small smile, squeezing his shoulder. "You don’t have to figure it all out right now. Take it one step at a time. And if you need to talk to him… maybe that’s something you’ll do when you’re ready. But don’t push yourself too hard."

Marco nodded, though the uncertainty still lingered in his chest. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready to face Marc again. But for now, having Alessandro by his side was enough.

But don’t push yourself too hard.

Don’t push yourself too hard.

Marco soaked in Alessandro's words, or at least he tried to. He didn't care once he stood up from his chair and left the garage, shamelessly wandering to catch even the slightest glimpse of Marc.

Marc didn't notice Marco at first. He was too absorbed in the numbers on the screen, trying desperately to find solace in the familiarity of his data. But something tugged at the corner of his consciousness, a familiar presence that he couldn't ignore. He looked up, and there, standing in the doorway of his garage, was Marco.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The world seemed to narrow down to just the two of them, the buzzing of the lights and the hum of the paddock fading into the background. Marco looked at him, his eyes shadowed with an emotion Marc couldn’t quite place — anger, hurt, maybe even regret. Marc’s breath caught in his throat, and for the first time in weeks, he felt completely exposed, as though Marco could see right through him.

Just as he processed the other mans presence he turned around, caught off guard by the sight of Ale filming the sunset.

All he could do was smile and look away. Fuck. Knowing him, this was going to be posted and everyone would see him acting a fool. Looking at Marc. Looking for Marc.

The day had dragged on with a suffocating heaviness that clung to the atmosphere of the paddock. The tension in the air was palpable, and Marco had tried to lose himself in the routine of race preparation, but his mind was elsewhere. Despite Alessandro's comforting words, Marco couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was spiraling out of his control.

It was late afternoon when Marco finally stepped out of the back of the garage. The sun had almost set, casting long shadows across the tarmac and bathing everything in a golden hue. The cool breeze offered little comfort as he took a deep breath, trying to clear his head.

As he rounded the corner, he froze. Marc was standing just a few feet away, having stepped out of his own garage at the exact same moment. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

Marc looked as tormented as Marco felt. His usually sharp, confident gaze was clouded with guilt and something else — something that made Marco’s heart clench painfully in his chest. They stood there, neither of them saying a word, the silence heavy with unspoken emotions.

Finally, Marco couldn’t take it anymore. "Marc," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the distant sounds of the paddock. He didn’t know what he wanted to say, didn’t know how to bridge the chasm that had opened between them. But he knew he couldn’t keep avoiding this, couldn’t keep letting the silence fester.

Marc took a hesitant step forward, his hand twitching as if he wanted to reach out but didn’t know if he should. "Marco," he replied, his voice rough and strained. "I—" He stopped, his expression twisting with frustration and regret. "I’m sorry," he finally said, the words spilling out in a rush. "For everything. For pushing you away, for… for everything I did."

Marco swallowed hard, the apology hitting him like a punch to the gut. He had wanted to hear those words, but now that he had, they felt hollow, empty. "Why now, Marc?" he asked, his voice trembling with the weight of his emotions. "Why are you sorry now, after everything? Before the race?"

Marc’s face fell, and he looked away, unable to meet Marco’s gaze. "Because I was scared," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was scared of how much I felt, scared of losing control. We slept together, Marco. I have a girlfrienf and I continue to come crawling back to you." He whispred, as though he was full of shame. He should be, Marco thought. Though he knew he didn't mean it. "I hurt you because of it. I didn’t want to admit how much you meant to me, how much you still do."

Marco’s breath caught in his throat, a wave of conflicting emotions crashing over him. He had dreamed of hearing Marc say those words, but now that they were out in the open, they didn’t bring the relief he had expected. Instead, they only deepened the ache inside him.

The tension between them was unbearable, the air thick with everything they weren’t saying. Marc's apology hung in the space between them, raw and full of regret. Marco’s heart pounded in his chest, torn between the pain he felt and the pull he could never fully escape.

“Marc…” Marco whispered again, his voice wavering as he tried to hold onto his resolve. But something in Marc’s eyes, the depth of his guilt, the vulnerability he so rarely showed, shattered the last of Marco’s defenses.

Before either of them could think, before the weight of their words could push them further apart, Marco stepped forward. His hands found their way to Marc’s face, cupping his jaw with a tenderness that belied the turmoil inside him, a tenderness that Marc never dared to think about giving Marco. He saw Marc’s breath hitch, his eyes wide with surprise and something deeper, something they both had been avoiding for too long.

And then, Marco kissed him.

It wasn’t gentle; it was fierce, desperate, like trying to hold on to something slipping away. Marc responded instantly, his hands gripping Marco’s waist as he pulled him closer, closing the distance that had kept them apart for so long. The kiss was messy, full of pent-up emotions, a mixture of anger, sadness, and the undeniable love that neither of them could deny any longer.

Marco could feel Marc trembling against him, could feel the way Marc was pouring everything into this one moment, as if trying to make up for all the hurt with a single kiss. He kissed back with the same intensity, letting himself get lost in the sensation, in the taste of Marc that he had missed so much.

For a fleeting moment, it was just them, lost in a world where nothing else existed. The noise of the paddock faded into the background, drowned out by the rush of blood in their ears and the rapid beating of their hearts. The world outside the garage — the spectators, the cameras, the relentless demands of the race — ceased to matter. In that kiss, the pain, the misunderstandings, and the mistakes that had plagued them melted away, leaving only the raw, undeniable connection they had began to share.

They clung to each other as if trying to capture something they had both feared was gone forever. Marc’s grip tightened on Marco’s waist, his fingers digging into the fabric of Marco’s shirt as if afraid to let go. He poured everything he had into that kiss, desperate to convey the feelings he could never quite articulate, the feelings he'd never dare to articulate. Not with Gemma still determined to stay by his side. The love that had always been there despite everything. Despite Marco's hurt. Despite Marc's hesitance to love another man in fear that he would hurt him how Vale had all those years ago. Marco responded with equal intensity, his hands trembling as they cradled Marc’s face, holding him close as if he could anchor himself in the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

But as the kiss deepened, as Marc’s lips moved against his with a need that bordered on frantic, Marco felt something else rising within him — something cold and sharp that pierced through the warmth of their embrace. The tears prickled at the corners of his eyes, and with them came the cruel reminder of the reality they couldn’t escape. The weight of everything unsaid, of every moment of doubt, of every wound they had inflicted on each other, came crashing down on him with a force that stole his breath.

He pulled back suddenly, gasping for air as if he had been drowning and only now resurfaced. His forehead rested against Marc’s, their breaths mingling in the small space between them, and Marco struggled to steady himself, to hold on to the fragile moment before it shattered completely. “Marc…” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, the words trembling on the edge of a sob. He could feel the tears slipping down his cheeks, each one a testament to the depth of his pain. “This… this doesn’t fix anything.”

Marc’s eyes, wide and desperate, locked onto Marco’s as if searching for something — anything — that would tell him they still had a chance. His hands, which had been holding Marco so tightly, softened their grip but didn’t let go. He was afraid, Marco realized, afraid that if he did, this fragile connection between them would break forever. “I know,” Marc said, his voice hoarse and heavy with the weight of everything he had been holding back. “But I needed you to know… I still need you, Marco. Please.”

The plea in Marc’s voice cut through Marco’s heart like a knife, and he had to close his eyes against the flood of emotions threatening to pull him under. The tears came faster now, spilling down his cheeks unchecked. He knew Marc meant every word, knew that Marc’s need for him was as real and as powerful as his own feelings. But he also knew that words and desperate kisses couldn’t undo the damage that had been done. They couldn’t erase the betrayal, the lies, the hurt that had driven them apart in the first place.

Yet, in that moment, with the echo of Marc’s lips still lingering on his, Marco allowed himself to believe, if only for a fleeting heartbeat, that maybe, just maybe, there was a way forward. It was a dangerous, fragile hope, one that wavered like a candle flame in the wind, threatening to be snuffed out by the harsh realities of their past. But still, it flickered, offering a glimmer of warmth in the cold uncertainty that surrounded them. Despite the hurt, the betrayal, and the countless times they had torn each other apart, Marco wanted to believe that the love they shared — something that had always been so raw, so intense — might still be strong enough to mend the fractures that time and pain had wrought between them.

The memory of their kiss lingered like a bittersweet melody, playing over and over in Marco’s mind, making it hard to think of anything else. It was the taste of what they could be, of the connection that had always drawn them together no matter how far they strayed. But as much as he wanted to cling to that hope, as much as he yearned to believe that they could find their way back to each other, the fear was still there, dark and insistent. It whispered doubts into his mind, reminding him of every time they had tried and failed, of every promise that had been broken. The fear that this fragile sliver of possibility might only lead to more heartache loomed large, casting a long shadow over the hope that flickered in his heart.

Marc seemed to sense the hesitation, the conflict that warred within Marco, and his hands tightened their hold just slightly, as if by sheer force of will he could keep Marco from slipping away. The desperation in his eyes had softened into something more tender, more pleading, as if he understood the weight of the decision Marco was wrestling with. “Let me take you back,” Marc whispered, his voice gentle but filled with a quiet intensity that spoke of how much this meant to him. “I’ll get us a hotel. Please, Marco.”

The words hung in the air between them, filled with a mix of hope, longing, and a deep-seated need for something that had always felt just out of reach. Whether or not Marc’s offer was just about finding a place to be alone together, Marco didn't care.

But as Marco stood there, looking into Marc’s eyes, he couldn’t ignore the gnawing uncertainty that gripped him. Could they really start over? Could they just pick it up where they left off and pretend like the hurt had never happened? The fear of repeating their mistakes, of falling into the same destructive patterns, weighed heavily on Marco’s chest. Yet, despite it all, there was something in Marc’s voice, in the way he looked at Marco with such unwavering determination, that made it hard to say no.

Marco searched Marc’s eyes, feeling the weight of the choice before him. The pull between them was undeniable, stronger than the pain, stronger than the doubts that plagued his mind. And despite everything, despite the voice in his head warning him of the risks, Marco found himself nodding, almost imperceptibly, but enough for Marc to see.

Marc’s expression softened with relief, his breath escaping in a shuddering exhale as if he’d been holding it all this time. “Thank you,” he whispered, his thumb brushing gently over Marco’s cheek. There was no need for more words; they both understood what this meant.

Marc reached out, taking Marco’s hand in his, their fingers intertwining naturally as if they belonged together. With one last glance around to ensure no one else was watching, Marc led him away from the garages, their pace quickening as they moved out of sight. They walked side by side, neither speaking, but the silence between them was comfortable, laden with the unspoken understanding that they were heading toward something they both needed—somewhere they could be alone, where the weight of the outside world couldn’t reach them.

The drive to the hotel was quiet, the hum of the engine filling the space between them. Marco’s mind raced, his thoughts a jumble of emotions — anticipation, fear, hope. He kept his gaze focused on the road ahead, but every so often, he’d glance over at Marc, catching the way his hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white with tension. It was clear that Marc was just as nervous, just as uncertain about what came next, but there was also a quiet resolve in his expression, a determination that gave Marco a sliver of comfort.

They arrived at the hotel, a discreet place on the outskirts of town, far from prying eyes. Marc parked the car, and for a moment, neither of them moved. The gravity of what they were about to do settled over them, heavy and palpable. Then, without a word, Marc got out of the car, walking around to open Marco’s door. He extended his hand, and after a brief hesitation, Marco took it, allowing Marc to help him out. Their fingers remained laced together as they made their way inside.

Marc handled the check-in quickly, keeping his voice low as he spoke to the receptionist. Marco stood a little behind him, his heart pounding in his chest as he took in the surroundings. Everything felt surreal, like they were in a bubble removed from reality, where the usual rules didn’t apply.

When Marc returned with the key, he offered Marco a small, reassuring smile before leading him toward the elevators. They stood close together as the doors slid shut, the quiet hum of the elevator the only sound between them. Marc’s hand found its way back to Marco’s, squeezing it gently as if to remind him that he wasn’t alone in this.

The room they entered was simple, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was the privacy, the sense of sanctuary it offered. Marc closed the door behind them, the soft click echoing in the stillness of the room. They stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, both searching for the right thing to say, but words seemed inadequate.

Finally, Marc took a step closer, his hand cupping Marco’s face as he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. It wasn’t rushed or desperate like before, but slow, careful, as if Marc was savoring the moment, memorizing the feel of Marco’s lips against his. Marco’s eyes fluttered shut, and he kissed back, the tension in his body slowly easing as he let himself be pulled into the warmth of Marc’s embrace.

They moved together, Marco’s hands finding their way to Marc’s shoulders, clinging to him as if he were the only solid thing in a world that had suddenly become uncertain. The kiss deepened, but this time there was no urgency, no need to prove anything — just a quiet, shared understanding that whatever came next, they would face it together.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless and a little unsteady, Marc rested his forehead against Marco’s, their breaths mingling in the space between them. “Stay with me tonight,” Marc whispered, his voice low, laced with a vulnerability that Marco hadn’t heard from him before.

Marco nodded, unable to find his voice, but the answer was clear in the way he tightened his hold on Marc.

Marc’s eyes softened at Marco’s silent agreement, and for a moment, all the tension between them seemed to dissipate. He let out a shaky breath, pressing a gentle kiss to Marco’s temple before pulling back slightly to look at him, really look at him. The uncertainty in Marco’s eyes was still there, but there was also something else — something that gave Marc hope.

Slowly, Marc led Marco to the bed, their hands still entwined. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lamps casting a warm, intimate light over the space. Marc sat down first, pulling Marco down beside him. They sat there, side by side, their shoulders touching, both of them acutely aware of how close they were, yet neither making a move to close the remaining distance.

Marc turned his head slightly, his eyes searching Marco's face, lingering on the curve of his lips. There was a quiet tension between them, an unspoken understanding that had been building for so long. Marc's breath hitched as he lifted a hand to gently brush a stray lock of hair away from Marco's face, his fingers lingering on Marco's cheek, the touch light, almost hesitant.

Marco leaned into the touch, his eyes half-lidded as he let out a shaky breath. The air between them felt charged, electric, and Marc could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the intensity of his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He knew what he wanted — what they both wanted — but still, he hesitated, as if waiting for Marco to make the first move.

Marco, feeling the weight of Marc's gaze, finally turned to face him fully, his lips parting slightly as he met Marc's eyes. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the world around them fading away until it was just the two of them, alone in the quiet of the room.

Then, almost as if drawn together by an invisible force, Marc leaned in, his eyes fluttering closed as his lips brushed against Marco's in a tentative, searching kiss. Marco responded immediately, a soft sound escaping his throat as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss.

The world seemed to slow down as their mouths moved together, lips and tongues exploring each other with a mix of tenderness and hunger. Marc's hand slid to the back of Marco's neck, pulling him closer, while Marco's hands found their way to Marc's chest, clutching at his shirt as if to ground himself in the moment.

The kiss grew more urgent, more desperate, as if they were both trying to make up for lost time, for all the moments they had held back. Marc's hand tangled in Marco's hair, tilting his head back to gain better access as he kissed him deeper, their breaths mingling, hearts racing.

Marco wants to bite him.

He doesn’t — he feigns smugness instead, a confidence he doesn’t have right now as their lips part, his body feels like it’s about to crumble under Marc's touch. He grabs the headboard behind Marc with both hands, one arm on each side of Marc's head — it’s either this, or his hands will start wandering, touching and grabbing and exploring because they have seen each other naked, but Marco wants everything. He wants to swallow Marc in the physical and metaphorical sense, he wants Marc to be his and also a part of him at the same time, he wants Marc in his mouth and down his throat and around his neck.

Marc lifts a hand and grazes the fingertips on Marco’s cheekbone to move some tendrils of hair that have escaped his fluro yellow claw clip, of course it's the vr46 colour, which he then tucks behind Marco’s ear. Marc looks at him like he knows that Marco would splay himself open for him - does he know? Marco wants to tell him, but he fears he’ll run - and Marco feels that gaze right in the middle of his sternum.

“I know I might fail,” Marc rests his hand on Marco's cheek now and Marco's grin freezes on his face, “But do I have permission to try?”

Fuck.

Marco doesn’t even know why Marc is asking— well, he does know, and it’s because Marc is being way too fucking nice, and will keep asking for consent until his throat is dry, and god if that isn’t so fucking sexy of him. Marco swallows and nods frantically, suddenly unable to make a sound — but he knows what Marc is going to want from him, so he takes a deep breath to ready himself for the demand.

“Words, lindo.”

Marco only has one word, and that’s ��fuck” yelled out loudly for an hour straight ideally — but he’s ready, so he clears his throat to answer.

“Yes, please.”

Marc smiles contentedly. “Good boy. Come here?” He says in a low tone, sliding his fingers along Marco's cheek and then under Marco's ears until he can gently hook them behind Marco's neck to pull him into a kiss.

And what a kiss, Marco thinks when he leans down for it, bracing himself by wrapping his arms around Marc's shoulders.

Marc always kisses him like he’s delicate, like he’s the most succulent of meals, like he wants all of him and at the same time wants to make sure he’s kept safe. One hand on Marco's cheek and the other on his thigh, Marc holds him through the kiss as if Marco was even thinking of going anywhere.

Marc's kisses almost make Marco think Marc would want to keep him.

Marco pushes the thought away by deepening the kiss and tightening the hold of his arms around Marc's shoulders, using them to push himself against Marc's chest and also give Marc's crotch a little rub with his own. It can’t hurt, can it?, to make Marc feel how much Marco wants him at all times, including right now when all he had to do was have Marco sit in his lap and Marco is desperately hard in his sweatpants.

Marc's fingers dig into Marco's skin in all the spots Marc is touching him — Marco feels them on his jaw and right behind his knee. He drinks the little “mmhh” that Marc releases in the middle of the kiss like it’s ambrosia, he can almost physically feel it fill up his mouth and slide down his throat, leaving fire in its wake. And Marco would burn, he would do it gladly if only Marc asked him to — but Marc doesn’t ask. He'd never dare to beg for anything. Never again. Instead, he pulls back from the kiss just a little, leaving Marco's lips open and wanting.

“You need to learn how to slow down, darling.” Marc whispers, lifting a hand to rub his whole palm on Marco's forehead to brush more strands of hair back. He’s smirking, still, and Marco can’t help but huff out a little laugh in response. He’s been caught red-handed, but this is not news for either of them: they’ve known each other long enough for it not to be a big revelation — he’s the one who wants things and wants them right now, Marc is the patient soul who reins him in. Except, this whole dynamic has gained a whole new layer now that one of the things Marco is allowing himself to want is Marc himself. It has made Marco more demanding, and Marc more firm.

And Marco loves it.

“You know me, amore. I haven’t slowed down one day in my entire life.” Marco grins, cupping Marc's jaw with one hand and rubbing the pad of his thumb on Marc's lips. Marc purses them to kiss Marco's finger, and Marco's eyelids and chest and stomach flutter.

“I know.” Marc nods, resting both hands on Marco's sides. He rubs them up and down until Marco's team shirt lifts up enough for him to slide under it and press his fingers into the softness just above his hips. “And I wouldn’t have you any other way. But I wonder—” Marc inhales sharply, furrowing his brows in the exaggerated expression of someone who is concocting the most articulate thought (he’s an absolute loser, Marco adores him), “Is there any way I could perhaps help you do that? Pause, for a moment?”

It’s a twinkle in Marc's eyes, and Marco catches it immediately. His whole body lights up.

“Maybe.” He arches an eyebrow, “You could try. You’re a very resourceful person.”

“Well. I do have something in mind.” Marc sits up, wrapping his arms around Marco's waist and straightening his back up until their faces are incredibly close again. “But I’m going to need you to be a very good boy for me. And some lube.”

It’s a good thing that Marco is being securely held in Marc's lap, because the bout of dizziness he feels all at once almost sends him flying straight to the floor. Fuck, is he actually insane? Marc knows by now the effect he has on him — and the bastard knows how to use it to his advantage too, because why would he call him a ‘good boy’ from that distance, lips that almost touch, breaths that almost combine?

“Gesù. Yes.” Marco breathes out, starting to reluctantly slide a leg off of Marc lap to turn around. “It’s just—”

“Now, now.” Marc grabs him promptly by his hips and Marco stops immediately, eyes fixed on him and his shit-eating grin that Marco wants to bite, “What did I just tell you? You need to settle down.” Marc tells him, and his tone is gentle but doesn’t give Marco any room for complaining. Not that Marco would want to, anyway — he feels his bones melt at the vigorous hold on his sides and at the rumble in Marc's voice, but he still manages to slide back into place and sit where Marco wants him.

“Where is it?” Marc asks him, running his hands over the small of Marco’s back purely because he wants to touch him. Marc has never been the tactile one between them, but Marco's love language is touch — which basically means that he has subjected Marc to his hugs, touches, caresses, to his fidgeting with various edges of various pieces of Marc's clothing until the whole thing rubbed off on Marc, and now every time he runs his hands over Marco's body, his skin goes up in flames.

“There’s a small bottle in the smallest pouch of my zaino.” Marco’s voice isn’t even stable right now — it trembles just as his body is doing — but he knows that Marc wants him to be present, and he doesn’t want to let him down.

Luckily his whole being is shaken back into existence the moment Marc's hand on the small of his back slides around his waist so that Marc's arm can hug him, holding Marco against his toned chest with one firm movement; Marco feels Marc's torso lean forward and instinctively wraps his arms around Marc's shoulders to avoid falling backwards, a surprised yelp escaping his lips.

“Marc, cristo—” Marco chuckles as he hugs him, pressing his cheek against Marc's as the man leans over and stretches an arm out to reach the bag.

They’re both laughing now, and Marc's laughter so close to Marco's ears makes Marco's insides feel like they will never be solid again. How could he live without this?

“See? It worked, and you didn’t have to move a muscle.” Marc chirps happily and kisses Marco right under his ear — then on his jaw, on his cheekbone, on the corner of his lips while he sits back again and takes Marco with him. Marco's eyelids flutter closed and he holds Marc's face again, a soft breath breaking against Marc'z lips a few moments before Marc kisses him once more.

It really feels like Marc kisses him because he likes to do it, and Marco lets himself believe it; one hand still splayed open on Marco's back, Marc holds him as he savours Marco, sucking on his bottom lip, taking up all the space that Marco has in his mouth — Marco gives it up gladly — until he breaks the kiss with one of his little moans that make Marco's ears tingle.

“You took my fingers so well last time,” Marc whispers right against Marco's lips, and wow, shit, he’s going straight for it, okay, “Do you want to show me how good you are with my cock?”

At this point, the hold Marco has on Marc's face is more of an anchoring point than something borne of affection, because he feels like he’s going to tumble right off Marc's lap even though he’s securely sitting on it. Who taught him to speak like that?!

“Cazzo, mate—” Marco drops his head forward, eyes closed as if it’s enough to soften the blow of the fucking punch in the chest he just received, “God, yes. I want nothing more. Please.” He remembers, in the haze of the moment, what Marc had told him to do the last time they had found themselves in this situation — he likes it when Marco asks nicely, and Marco is hellbent on not letting him down.

And sure enough, Marc smiles — Marco would fight a thousand wars if it meant he could always see him like this — and he pops the lube open with the flick of a thumb. They don’t even look at the bottle — they only have eyes for each other, with Marc's hand still in the small of Marco's back and Marco's hands delicately resting on the line of Marc's jaw. They stare at each other in what frankly looks like a silent battle for who can hold the most affection for the other in their gaze. Marco hopes it’s a tie. Convinces himself it is.

He shifts his hips back a bit and reaches for the band of Marc's jeans, but Marc tuts, arching his eyebrows. “Ah-ha. Don’t move.” He says, slow and low — and they’re so close that the words roar in Marco's chest. He puts his hand back on Marco's upper arm, finger grazing lightly over the scars litering his skin as he forced himself to keep as still as possible. It’s quite the undertaking for him, as someone who wants to touch, move, get things going. He has no patience and that is especially true when what he wants is right in front of him, but Marc has made it very clear what the rules are, so Marco waits. The last thing he wants is to be kicked aside again.

He waits, but he watches — he watches as Marc wriggles his hips enough to be able to slide his bottoms down. Not all the way, because of course he wouldn’t want Marco to move an inch — but then he takes his cock out, which is already half-hard just by making out with Marco, and he can’t help but feel a tinge of pride at the sight.

“You are so beautiful.” It comes out of Marco before he can even stop it, and his breath hitches a bit at the end of the sentence, but now it’s too late to take it back anyway. They’ve always had words of praise for each other, regardless of the context in which they were said — and yet these words now taste like a brand new thing. Like something that isn’t blooming yet but it’s desperately asking to, something that feels tentative and shy and that maybe Marco should’ve kept for himself, on second thought.

He searches for Marc's gaze in a subtle panic — he needs to know immediately if he has ruined everything, if he has given away too much, if Marc hates him—

He finds Marc's hazel eyes staring straight back at him, and for a moment Marco could swear something flashes in them, just as Marc's eyelids flutter for an instant. His lips part ever so slightly, almost as if Marc would like to say something but he's stopping himself at the last second. his stomach drops a bit, because what is Marc thinking right now? Perhaps that he's not beautiful? That he doesn't deserve the compliment? And he doesn't know how to fix it, he doesn't know how to tell him without breaking the atmosphere of the moment, so Marco holds his face gently, softly, fingertips subtly rubbing the skin under them. You are, you are, you are, one small rub, and then another, then another, you are, you are, you are.

Marc takes a deep breath, slowly, and Marco feels the hand on his back give him a very quick caress. “Nothing, compared to you, tesoro.”

No, no, no, Marco pulls him into a kiss, his thumbs rubbing Marc's cheekbones, you are, you are, you are, and he vaguely registers Marc drizzling the lube on his cock and his own fingers as they kiss, you are beautiful, you are so beautiful, you are the most beautiful, and now one of Marc's hands is wrapping around his waist and ending up on his back and it’s sliding, lower and lower and lower, you are the most gorgeous creature I have ever laid eyes on, and it slips inside Marco's pants and surpasses his boxers, and Marco is still kissing him, there’s no one more beautiful than you, and then the first finger breaches him, and the whimper he lets out into Marc's mouth sounds a lot like his name.

“Si, amor?” Marc murmurs and oh, maybe Marco did say his name.

“I— I want— I need you, Marc, please—”

In a different universe - one where the mere act of looking at Marc doesn’t make Marco want to drop to his knees — Marco would be telling himself to get it together. That the state he’s in after a short makeout session and one mere finger is way too much, that he needs to reel it in — but in this universe, the one where Marc is smiling at him as he adds a second finger, Marco is not holding back.

“You need to be patient, Marco.” Marc's words follow Marco's moan almost in one unified sound — they’re an extension of Marco's noises, Marc fits them in between one whimper and the other like they belong there — and they do, like puzzle pieces perfectly coming together.

Patience, patience — by the time Marc has added a third finger Marco is a writhing, whimpering mess, desperately seeking some sort of relief by attempting to push his hips against Marc's fingers. He can’t, though, because Marc told him not to, he told him to stand still and be patient, and Marco feels like his head is about to explode. He knows why Marc is doing that — he wants Marco to learn to take his time, to not rush things, to wait, but all Marco wants is this beautiful man to be inside him and he is not sure if he’s learning any lessons here.

“Right,” Marc breathes out just as his fingers still, earning a disapproving moan from Marco, “You’re being so very good for me”, Marco squirms ever so slightly as the fingers slide out with ease, “But last time I forgot to ask you something very important and the mistake has been eating at me.”

Marco's brain is way too liquified to even focus properly on Marc's words, but what Marco knows is that there is nothing he would change about their first time. He has been replaying that night over and over in his head, and if Marc asked him what he would change, he wouldn't have an answer.

“What—” Marco swallows, trying to get his words out, “What is it? You were perfect.”

Marc shakes his head. “No, Marco, and I'm sorry. I'm— still learning.”

Marco catches a hint of hesitation in Marc's voice. He doesn't understand why, but if Marc doesn't tell him immediately what the issue is, he's going to go insane.

“I didn't ask you what your safeword is,” Marc sighs, rubbing Marco's side with his other hand. “And I'm so sorry. I should have.”

Leave it to Marc Marquez to apologise for not properly taking care of him. Leave it to Marc Marquez to realize he was far too similar to Valentino. To realise he'd rather die than continue to hurt Marco how Vale had hurt him.

God, Marco could start crying.

“Amore, it's fine, I promise,” Marco tries to reassure him, cupping his jaw with both hands to direct Marc's gaze into his own — and oh, Marc's eyebrows are knotted in the middle, and he's concerned, so very concerned. “I know you wouldn't hurt me—”

“Marco, please, don't brush it off.” Marc's hand on Marco's hips grabs him firmly enough to get Marco's attention, “It's always important to know. I— people— should be asking you, and you should make it known.”

It doesn't feel like Marc is telling him off — rather, this sounds a lot like something he's been reprimanding himself about for days.

“I— I want— I need you to be safe, Marco, please—”

Marco's hands almost scramble to grab Marc's face to pull him in until their foreheads touch.

“I am, I promise, I am.” Marco tells him gently, rubbing circles into Marc's skin with his thumbs.

Marc speaks as if Marco would be able to sleep with anyone else now — as if he could desire someone else the way he desires Marc, viscerally, primordially— and Marco knows it's true that Marc would never hurt him — not physically — but his heart still swells up at the thought that Marc is being so attentive towards him.

Their faces are still close when Marco speaks again.

“Lavender.”

Marc looks up at him. “Mh?”

Marco smiles. “Lavender. My safeword.”

Marc's shoulders relax all at once, his face painted with relief.

“I’m sorry,” He says, low and soft, “I’m trying.”

Marco frowns. Trying what? Marc doesn’t have to try, not with him at least. No one knows Marco more than Marc does, embarrassingly enough, and there is nothing he could do wrong when it comes to dealing with him in Marco's eyes. He could do no wrong. His pedestal was far too high for him to be making lowly mistakes.

But the words are cut off right from Marco's throat when Marc wraps a hand around his own cock, taking his lower lip between his teeth as he slowly strokes it a couple times. It is a vision to behold — this perfect man with this perfect face and these perfect hands and this perfect cock — and Marco's jaw falls open, quite literally. He fears he’s going to start salivating in a moment, and he’s thankful for Marc manoeuvring him to lift himself up just a little while he pulls the elastic of Marco's pants and boxers low enough to leave his ass uncovered.

“Just like that… good boy.” Marc's voice guides Marco as he sits back down, the praise making him feel dizzy — as if the feeling of Marc's cock sliding inside wasn't exhilarating enough.

It fills Marco up, inch by inch, and he feels like he's not taking it fast enough — he wants Marc inside him, and he says it with a whimpering moan as he tries to take him to the hilt. But Marc isn't only dictating Marco's movements with his voice, no — his firm grip on Marco's hip is deciding the speed at which Marco is going, and it's too much and it's not enough.

“Marc—” Marco moans in frustration, receiving a gentle shush and a hand stroking his hair in response.

“It's okay, mi amor. Patience. There's no rush. You're being so good for me.”

Marc's praise stays with him until Marco has taken him to the full length, until he's sitting back down in Marc's lap with a groan and he's full, and Marc is all around him and inside him and outside of him, and he's safe.

“Well done, good boy.” Marc strokes Marco's sides gently with both hands, in stark contrast with Marco's fingers gripping Marc's shoulders for dear life.

He wants to move — he wants to make Marc feel good, to show him what a good boy he is for him — and he tries it, he pushes himself up just slightly, even though it doesn't last long. Marc's hands are promptly back on his hips, keeping him down and still.

“It's alright, darling. Just sit still for a minute. You feel so good around me.” Marc says softly as he's smiling at him, and jesus fuck, does he want him dead? Not only is he talking to him like that, but now he’s stopping him from moving, from allowing Marco to give him what he wants, and Marco whimpers again. He likes Marc so fucking much, and the mere idea that Marc might like him back enough to at least want to do this with him makes him want to scream — fucking god, why is Marc Marquez so hard to understand.

“Marc, I—” Marco wants to say it, he wants to ask him why and when and why again. Why does Marc take care of him like this, why does he love him and cherish him and touch him in a way no one has ever touched him before, and when will Marc tell him that this is all just for fun, just so they can fool around for a while, and why.

And what's more frustrating out of this whole fucking situation is that Marco is still hellbent on giving Marc all that he can and all that he has, he wants to see Marc lost in the throes of pleasure because of him and his body, he wants Marc to look at him the way he looked at him before his crash — the lump that forms inside Marco's throat is heavy and painful and Marco lets out a choked noise.

“You'll be okay, amor. I promise. Sit still, I'll take care of you.” Marc's words slide across Marco's skin just like Marc's hands are doing, touching and caressing and caring, “Please, let me fix this. I'll make it up to you. I'll never hurt you again, tesoro.”

Deep down, Marco knows that Marc is right — that things are not as dramatic as he’s making them out to be, that they're both adults who aren't even commited to eachother how Marco so deeply wishes they were — but in reality, Marco's hands are itching and his brain is buzzing.

And if it’s because of the thought of that night or because of Marc, Marco doesn’t want to investigate this further either; all he knows is that he’s trying really hard to be good for Marc, to stay still like he’s asking him — and he doesn’t even realise that his hands have slid from Marc's shoulders to his chest and are now holding Marc's shirt in two tight fists. Marco wants Marc to kiss him, he wants Marc to fuck him into the cheap hotel bed, he wants Marc to tell him he loves him— oh fuck, he loves Marc, doesn’t he? Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

The sob leaves his throat before Marco can even notice, and when he does, his hand flies to his mouth to try and stop himself from releasing any more. His eyes are warm and his vision is getting blurry, and— shit, this is a terrible time to start crying. What would Marc think? He is equipped to carry the weight of Marco's emotions - though he wasn't the best as sticking around - but this is a completely different situation they find themselves in.

He’s sitting on Marc's cock, crying over the fact that he's not so different from Eos, the goddess of the dawn. He feels powerless in this love he has for Marc, much like Eos's unrequited feelings for Ares. No matter how hard Eos tries, Ares will always return to Aphrodite. Just as Marc will always go back to Gemma.

“Marco, oh, amor—” Marc's soothing voice reaches him very quickly and so do Marc's hands, cupping his face and drying a tear with the pad of a thumb. “Are you okay? Do you want to stop?”

Marco knows that he could use the safeword at any point. They have never been in this predicament before, but just by knowing the type of person Marc is, Marco knows he can trust him fully to respect their agreement. He knows that, and for some reason the thought makes him feel much better about his decision.

He shakes his head, uncovering his mouth. “No,” he says, voice quivering, “No, I’m okay. I’m just very overwhelmed.”

Marc strokes rebel strands of hair away from Marco's face with so much care and softness that Marco could genuinely sob about it for a day or two; he knows Marc is trying to calm him down though, and he wants to stop crying before his brain starts telling him he’s ruining everything, so he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Good job.” Marc whispers, and it takes Marco all his willpower not to whimper in the midst of his own tears, which would be absolutely ridiculous.

“You are doing so well.” The Spanish man continues. Marco decides to keep his eyes closed for a while longer, to focus on Marc's voice and hands stroking his face. “I know it’s hard for you to calm down. But it’s okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you, you’re safe. No need to be scared right now. I just want to feel you around me for a little while longer. You feel so good. I wish you could stay here forever.”

Marc doesn’t know, but Marco would. Marco would stay there, in his lap, in his hands, for the rest of time if necessary.

He does his best, anyway: he breathes in and out slowly, and soon it feels like Marc is breathing in sync with him — maybe to regulate Marco's breaths, maybe because they just do that, but it helps a lot, and soon Marco calms down fully. It’s like magic.

The sensation of Marc filling him up is still very much there. Marco comes down to Earth with another whimper, his back arching when a little giggle from Marc makes both shake slightly.

“There you are.” Marc coos. Marco finally opens his eyes, his vision still a little blurry, but he’s blushing like a schoolgirl now, because Marc is smiling at him with that smile Marco keeps so close to his heart — the slightly crooked one, with his eyebrows gently bending upwards in the middle like he’s constantly looking at the most beautiful thing in the world.

Marco wants to be that, for him.

“Good boy. See? You did it.”

Marco feels his brain snap into place.

He wraps his arms around Marc's shoulders and pulls him in, slowly, almost lazily, their bodies impossibly closer now and then kisses him. He realises only halfway through opening his lips up for Marc that he didn’t ask for permission, he didn’t say please — but Marc's hands immediately run up his torso, from Marco's hips to his shoulder blades and take Marco's shirt with them; the fabric bunches up in Marc's fists and leaves the lower part of Marco's torso bare.

Without breaking the kiss, Marc keeps Marco's shirt up with one hand, while the other one slides lower and lower until it reaches Marco's entrance, fingertips running over his outstretched rim, right in the spot where their bodies are, statically and frustratingly so, joined together. Marco moans into the kiss, biting down on Marc's lower lip.

“Mh,” Marc smiles, pulling back just a bit, “You really feel so good, you know?” He continues, using his fingers to push onto the underside of his cock so that it sinks even further inside, eliciting a begging moan from Marco.

“You can ask me, now.” Marc smirks.

Marco needs to take a deep breath before speaking. “Ask what?”

“Ask me to fuck you, Marco.”

And it comes out of Marco like a landslide, like something Marco can’t run away from: he pushes his knees into the mattress at Marc's sides, pressing even further against him with a long, drawn out moan as he arches his back, ready to start moving the moment Marc allows him to.

“Amore, please— please, fuck me.”

He thinks Marc is going to grab his hips, to finally allow him to start bouncing up and down like his body is craving to do — instead, Marco feels Marc's arms lock around his waist and, in a moment, he finds himself being lifted up and laid on his back on the bed quicker than his brain can even begin to process.

“Good boy.” Marc growls into Marco's mouth before reclaiming it with the hunger of a man starved; Marco's mouth and body and soul are all for him — they open up for Marc like a blossoming flower, letting the man in as much as Marco is able to handle.

Which — turns out — is more than Marco imagined, because Marc is soon thrusting into him, half-kneeling on the bed, one foot planted on the ground. Marco barely has time to gasp, kick his pants all the way off to wrap his legs around Marc's waist and arms around his shoulders, and then his brain fully disconnects once more; Marc pounds into him like he’s trying to mark him — Marco likes to think that Marc is making him his own, and even if Marc's thrusts mean something else to his friend, to Marco they’re saying mine, yours, mine, yours, mine.

“Oh, tesoro, you feel so good—” Marc pants in Marco's ear and Marco closes his eyes; maybe, if he doesn’t look, he can pretend that Marc is saying this as he lazily wraps his arms around his waist on a warm Sunday morning in their bed in the house they share, pressing himself against Marco's back and leaving a kiss behind the shell of his ear, both of them smelling of sex and fresh sheets, right before Marc gets up to cook breakfast.

And then Marc's cock hits that spot inside Marco that makes him let out a moan that is much louder than the others and arch his back, and Marco really doesn't know if the ringing he hears is from Marc's phone or from his own ears — but it doesn't matter. He tightens the grip of his legs around Marc's hips to get him to go deeper, deeper, deeper, and Marc does — he plants his knee into the duvet and his foot solidly on the floor and shifts his hips forwards just enough to pound into Marco with a relentlessness that makes Marco feel dizzy.

Marc's cheek is still pressed against Marco's when he cups his jaw on the opposite side with a hand; Marco turns his head into the touch, eyes closed, until Marc's thumb grazes his bottom lip. He opens his eyes, then, and without hesitation, he tilts his head forward to take the finger in his mouth, wrapping his lips softly around it. He feels Marc's thrusts stutter and has to do his best not to smirk around Marc's digit, especially because Marc is now lifting his head up to look at the pretty picture in front of him and Marco is not going to miss the opportunity to employ his best doe eyes if he can.

He looks up at Marc, thumb in his mouth, and gives the pad a quick lick before sucking on it. Marc is looking at him like he has never seen anything so beautiful — at least, that’s what Marco makes himself think in order to stay sane — with his lips parted in surprise and a little gasp that escapes them when his eyes land on his finger being enveloped by Marco's supple lips.

“Fuck,” Marc mutters, pushing the thumb deeper — Marco feels it slide across his tongue and thinks about Marc's cock doing the same — “You are so beautiful, amor. I’m so - ah - I’m so lucky I get to have you like this—”

Marc isn’t the lucky one, Marco thinks. Looking up at him, brunette locks falling over his forehead and bouncing to the rhythm of his thrust, mouth agape in the throes of pleasure — Marco wants to tell him. He wants to tell him that he’s pretty sure he loves him, and that he’s sorry if this ruins everything between them, and that it’s fine if Marco doesn’t love him back — it’s not fine, but what else is he going to do? Lose him? Again?

He says nothing, though. He hums around Marc's thumb as his lips hit the base of it and he keeps sucking and licking just as he feels Marc's thrust get faster and more frantic. Marc presses the other four fingers against Marco's jaw and now he’s practically holding his head, and Marco's eyes roll to the back of his head at the thought of Marc handling him that way. He slides one hand away from Marc's side to try and reach his own neglected cock, but Marc is faster, always. He pushes Marco away with his free hand and wraps his own fingers around Marco's erection instead.

“No. Mine.” Marc growls, and Marco would cry again if he wasn’t too busy trying not to come on the spot.

Marco is literally everywhere, he’s inside Marco and around his cock and in his mouth and on top of him and Marco sucks on his finger like it’s the source of the oxygen he needs to live; Marc looks mesmerised and Marco believes him, he believes that Marc loves him back within the confines of the orgasm that is building up inside both of them — that it’s real for a moment, for a brief, intense moment where their bellies tighten and the pressure builds up and their moans almost become one, and Marc is pounding and pounding and pounding and saying Marco's name over and over again — and then Marc comes, and then they both come, and Marc is filling him up and Marco is spilling all over his stomach and Marc's fist, and it’s bliss.

Marco loves him, in the space of their panting breaths. Marco loves him, with their cheeks pressed together once Marc flops forward for a moment. Marco loves him, with his fingers carding through the waves of his hair.

And he imagines that Marc loves him too, with his thumb slipping out of Marco's mouth but his hand still firmly pressed against his face. He imagines that Marc loves him too, with the little sigh of relief when Marco mindlessly and softly scratches his back with his nails, delicate as he can be. He imagines that Marc loves him too, in the little giggle he releases before kissing his neck.

“Did your phone ring?” Marco asks lazily, as if they’ve just woken up from a good night’s sleep.

“Mh,” Marc hums, face still hidden against Marco's neck.

“Want me to leave you alone while you call them back?” Marco asks, Marc only throws but a glance at his phone on the bedside table next to them. He thinks about the idea of leaving, and he feels like things matter a little less.

It can wait.

“No,” He mumbles, turning his head again and wrapping Marc into a hug, closing his eyes so that he can smell him. “I'll stay.”

And he did, for that night. Stayed in bed with Marco, their limbs entertwined the whole night before they had to wake up and return to the paddock. Before Marc had to return Gemma's calls.

[scumvillainess]

look, it’s been a while since i’ve read svsss so there’s definitely some things about the novel that i’ve forgotten (and also i’m more of a qijiu girlie anyways (doomed yaoi? doomed yaoi!)) but can someone explain to me why people hate bingqiu/bingyuan so much?

[cloudbearsapphire]

thinking about how L, Light and Matsuda are the primary colors and how that makes my heart swell so much, especially considering how even from the authors (Idr which one, either Ohba or Obata) casted him aside themself

BUT, HE A PART OF THE PRIMARY TRIO !!!! AND FUCKIN KILLED LIGHT !!!!!!!

HE IMPORTANT !!!!!!!

LOVE HIM !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[hyuneskkami]

i NEED angst fic recs (x fem!reader) PLS 😭🙏

[miraclespin]

So sorry for the wait; their birthday is coming up, so I decided that now would be a good time to have this poll:

Once again, I have my own opinions on the matter. Once this wraps up, I'm gonna have to come up with a ninth entry, and then sort through them all to better weed out any doubles, and make sure appropriate forms are assigned to the best suited characters- which might mean more polls in a similar vein in the future.

[jamiethebeeart]

Sketches

[iridescentis]

are there any fic prompts circling rn that i haven't seen because i reallyy want to get back into writing but i have not a single idea

i might end up posting some random ass puckentine drabbles at some point because i have ideas for specific scenes but nothing else, and 90% is just a couple lines of dialogue 😭

[lynxalon]

HOLY SHITTTTTTTTTTTTT THAT CRITROLE EP WAS AMAZING!!!!!!!!!! im SO glad we had the set up of the last one so we could have the big thrills of this!!!!!!!!! this had everything!! it had ira's bad (and good!) decisions! it had sam's out of pocket wacky can shenanigans!! it had deception and sneaking! it had badass plays and some.. eye-catching talents 👀 it had gross shit that's kinda actually sad if u think about it! it had walking (running) away from explosions (NOT a sunglasses moment this was a loserfail) it had .. terrifying parents. it had imodna momence !! :D it even had some unprecedented wins for our typically fighty/flighty adventurers!!! i will ABSOLUTELY be watching that again come monday!!!!!!!!!!

[blueberryfics]

goodnight n go

You text your ex-spouse to say goodnight. (Inspired by a tiktok trend, mainly these vids: here & here)

Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, Shoko Ieiri, Choso Kamo, Takuma Ino, Toji Fushiguro, Ryomen Sukuna

f!reader

CONTAINS: mild angst (you’re divorced what did you expect), crack, still pretty fluffy tbh, you have kids together

My blog is 18+. Minors please DNI!

a/n: if anyone gets the reference in Shoko’s contact name I’m kissing you on the mouth. Also Toji was definitely giggling and kicking his feet behind his phone screen

[axetivev]

— Summary: Being nothing other than a servant for the Ishikawa clan, even though they treated you horribly. You took care of their heirs. Even if the king of curses came. Ryomen Sukuna's first plan was to kill everyone in the clan... But he found a bride instead!

— Warnings/Tags: Smut + Fluff + Angst, Mentioned of Violence, Blood, Reader died (I'm sorry not sorry), Feminization, Sukuna has Two Dicks, Jealous Sukuna, Nipple Play, BDSM (Shibari), Double Penetration, Degradation (?). Belly Bulge, Self-insert Reader.

— Words: 3.5k

— A/N: tbh i haven't thought of this idea but shout out to @carnalcrows for asking this to be a fic. [here's the idea if you're curious -> 🎭] there's new shits i add because why not, this in semi-rushed. i'm not really in the mood to do anything these past few days... but i promised I'll deliver the Thief x King reader idea. welp, that's it from me. i hope you enjoyed this fic !!!

— Pairing: Heain Era!Ryomen Sukuna x Male!Reader

Being a servant for the Ishikawa clan sure is a work. How couldn't be?

You work for the rest of your days. Not to mentioned, the people of the clan were assholes, morons… abandoning everything and anyone if they had power, extremely thirst for power. You often avoid handling with the older folks, so you mainly dealing with the kids—heirs. You teach them humanity, something their supposed “guardian” never gave them.

Even if you can’t use curse techniques yourself, you teach them swordsmanship. Giving them attention that they barely obtained other then told that they were just a tool. It was nice to know that they would still had a child heart even you knew when they got older—they were no different with the elders. Until, that day.

In the middle of the night, after an exhausting day of serving the elderly. You were somehow able to take a break. Even though it was a quick nap and nothing much, but it’s better then never. You slowly rosed from your sheets. Right as you about to tidy up, you heard a scream—a scream of horror and terror.

You glanced at the door that showed a glimpse of what happened, you saw a figure—210 cm tall. His eyes were four, that information alone was enough to think of one thing; Ryomen Sukuna. The kids of Ishikawa once told you about him, a blood thirsty sorcerer and his description matched.

You don’t know what’s going on inside your head. You just wanted to make sure that the kids would be alright—you didn’t care if they became a good heir or not. You just wanted them to be… save. You rushed to where the kids’ room was, holding a katana in hand. Thankfully, the king of curses was in his way—just in the right amount of time when you finally made it to the door, defending the wood with your left hand.

Sukuna looked down at you, well. He was abit too tall for an average male, he saw your right hand gripping the black tsuka. Your face somehow didn’t even show fear when your hand clearly trembled, but he doesn’t knew why. Sukuna’s four eyes were look down at you, his upper right arm slowly gripped blade of your katana—lowering it.

Confusion was written all over your face—Sukuna bore into you, with his lower arms grabbing your waist as he then throw you over his shoulder. Walking away from the door, where you saw the kids looked relieved and terrified.

“You damn—!” “Shut it, brat.” Sukuna spat, as he walk with a… white haired human?

That shut you up quickly, but you squirm. Hitting the back of the Sorcerer’s back, even if didn’t do much. You look forward to look for the kids, the adult there—you can’t see it clearly. But they seemed to have disgust written on their face, it’s not because of Sukuna.

But… you?

A frown form on your face, is it because of you just, didn’t try to fight back? Or what it because you spend too much time with the kids and they prefer you over their parents? You honestly had many questions. But thank to Sukuna’s large hand spanking your ass when you were on the gate of the Ishikawa clan.

“Stop thinking about them.” Sukuna said, as if he read your mind, you froze as you felt his hand rough fingers trying to sooth your cheeks.

Sukuna narrowed his eyes at your back, you turned your head in confusion by why did he stop moving. His lower arm grabbed your back knee, while the other on your back, trying to make you stable. Sukuna’s other lower hand was on your back, carrying you in bridal style, your arms were slowly and awkwardly wrapped around his neck.

“You’ll be my bride from now on.” Sukuna said, it’s not an ask. That’s a command.

The word “bride” was weird to you, but you were honestly too scared what would fate do to you if you didn’t agreed to what he said. So you nodded, hiding your face over the King of Curses' chest (what does this man even do to make it this big?). Sukuna, again. Look at you, making you squirm under his grasp. But he shrugged, continued to walk with the same white haired human.

Uraume.

That was their name. After your wedding with a few amounts of sorcerers which, you noted looked terrified most of the time during the ceremony. In your now home, for now, you spent most of your time with Uraume.

The minka you currently lived in is quite big, but average from an average sorcerer’s home. In the middle of the forest. But it had a small garden in the inside and in the back, it was close to a river with fishes swimming to the clear water, and some Baikamos, White lilies… it was surprising how clean the water was, Uraume would often company you when you admired the beauty of the waters in the river. They admitted; “He asked me to watch you.” Which you imagine it was Sukuna asking them to do so.

When Sukuna was home, Uraume will usually gone in the speed of light. You swore, they were beside you before the the king of curses came. Well, you don’t know if it’s normal or not. You already cleaned the house with Uraume, the sun was slowly loosed it’s shine as the moon rose. You saw him—he was in front of you, and weirdly enough. You didn’t find him scary in any sort of way. Just nervous.

“Is there… something wrong with me?” Sukuna heard your nervousness, he let out a sigh. Shaking your head, he saw you tilting your confusion. Until he finally grunted, his lower arm holding your wrist. “Let’s go out.”

His voice was sharp—but you somehow heard a softness in it, weird that someone like Ryomen Sukuna to be able to had a little softness, you sighed as you shook your head amusingly. Arguing with him seemed to lead to absolute nowhere. So, you followed along.

Your destination was lead to the same river behind the house. The flowers there were more then expected. Baikamo was blooming, white lilies looked like they’d shined the dark night. But your eyes landed on the Hasu flowers. You liked them, it’s white, pure and simply beautiful. Sukuna was watching you from a distant which you failed to realize because of your enthusiasm with flowers.

Sukuna’s four eyes looked at you, his arms crossed—the Hasu flowers and your face showed something that tugged some strings in his heart, in a good way.

The way you smiled kills him, the way you just happily looked at flowers like you never seen them in your existence, even if it's just a day after the wedding. He realizes something fast—instant. Ryomen Sukuna, a suppose special grade sorcerer, picked up a random man and decided to make him his bride, he thought you are the one falling for him hard. Instead, he was the one falling for you, harder.

“[Name]…” Sukuna muttered your name—as if he tested the waters, he saw you turning your head. Titling your head in confusion, but still, a smile played on your lips.

“…Yeah?” Fuck, your voice—sounds too good. If the Heain Era had something technological, he’d record that voice of yours and then listen to your voice and masturbate.

Sukuna stayed silent, his eyes flickered between the Hasu flowers and you. Pure, handsome, innocent… and it’s all for him. Forever.

Forever? You and me?

It had been weeks since that day, you now found Sukuna more often in the house. Therefore, making you cleaned the house while making sure it was nearly spotless. You knew Sukuna liked eating humans, once. You asked what he liked other then human’s flesh, which. His answer was straight to the point; “Figure it out yourself.”

It annoyed you with a burning passion. But you’d shrugged, leaving you asking for Uraume which they only said human flesh. Eventually, this leaving you by asking random sorcerers to hunt for random animals in the wild. Seeing their face turned to pale isn’t what you really thought of, but you often feel something—someone was watching you from a distance.

And after you asked a sorcerer to hunt form something—anything really. He never came back like how it suppose to be, it questioned you, but you can conclude that it may be caused of the harsh rain that suddenly came without a warning. Sitting on the engawa of the minka, the sound of thunder and rain echoed from the distance. The sky was covered by gray and waters already dropping from the gray clouds.

“[Name].” Uraume called, you watched as they stood in front of the door. “Sukuna is looking for you.”

You gave Uraume and polite nod as you walked your way to your room, well. Eyeballing that you thought Sukuna was in your room, and you were right. You saw a hand—Sukuna’s exact hand coming from the wooden door, you walked right in front of the door as that hand dragged you in—thr door behind you immediately closed shut without a way out.

Sukuna stood in front of you menacingly—you studied him, his very expression and movements. Sure, he looks bigger up close, but you never seen him so close before. The mouth on his stomach gritting it’s teeth, the urge to just punch his stomach was unreal—“Why did you ask those sorcerers to do those things?”

“…Those things?” You echoed, genuinely confused by Sukuna’s question. “Ah, asking those sorcerers to hunt for—”

Sukuna huffed, his expression hardened, his upper arm—its hand wrapped tightly around your wrist. “Can’t you asked for your husband’s help, at the very least!?” He snapped, his voice was loud enough to made you shut up. “I let you walk in this world still alive, I’m here now more often, can’t you just ask me for help? What? You scared?”

His face was actually showing anger. You? Ah, dumbfounded. Honestly, you motives of doing so is because of wanting to surprised Sukuna—not to get him angry, but you found out something new that’s a mixed of something laughable, stupid somewhat concerning.

The king of curses? Jealous of other sorcerers? You held back a laugh by bitting your lip, you raised your hand up to a fist. With a light force, you hit Sukuna’s head with your hand. Like those arcade games where you had to hit animals to get scores, Sukuna didn’t looked amused when you finally laughed your ass off. Crying over the fact he was jealous over humans—sorcerers he can beat without even doing much.

“[Name], it’s unacceptable,” Sukuna said firmly, his grip over your wrist tightened. “I hope it’s not considered rushing to do this.

“I hope it’s not considered rushing to do this.”

Sukuna’s voice—that exact words of his echoed in your head as you were tied by Uraume themselves. They didn’t looked surprised or in any some sort of embarrassment as red ropes circling your naked body. The texture was rough… it felt somewhat comfortable, but it didn’t really hurt your skin as much. Not for now.

When you came out from the next room, in ropes, your arms on your back, it felt fucking uncomfortable. But Uraume said earlier it was Sukuna who requested it and it’s his idea. Not theirs, your dick flopped down sadly. Sukuna, who was sitting comfortably on the bed, he uncrossed his upper arm, using his fingers. Sukuna called you forward with a simple command, you stood between the king of curses’ thighs. His fucking huge thighs.

Sukuna didn’t looked up, his fingers found their to your bare chest he soon enough called tits. He didn’t even hesitate to pulled the bud, making you gasp out of Sukuna’s boldness. His fingers then circled your areola, before gently switching your nipples.

“You humans are sensitive when it comes to this,” Sukuna spat out, he then leaned forward, his teeth catching your already hard buds. “It’s embarrassing.”

His tongue went all in to your left nipple, his slimy tongue was circling your nipple again… rougher. Sukuna left a bite over your bud, your whimpers was music to his ears. He seems to be neutral about it, but deep down. He knew he was a stupid freak under the title “King of Curses”.

His lower hand mover their way down—rubbing your ass, you looked back to then flinched feeling Sukuna’s thumb rubbing your entrance, how big was that? You don’t know neither wanting to know. Your hands grabbed his shoulder when Sukuna inserted his middle finger—soon his index. It hurts if you can be honest, does sex feel like this? Really you don’t now, but it slightly feel good. That’s a plus, right?

Two fingers fucking you wide—Sukuna’s tongue moved to your other nipple. Both sensation made your dick erect and legs trembling. Hot breaths escaped your lips that reached to Sukuna’s ears, he then brushed over your prostate which let out a loud gasp out of you, he pulled his fingers out, you whined by the lost. You finally looked back at Sukuna who didn’t seemed to look impress at your expression; a whiny bitch who just begged to be breed.

Sukuna flicked his tongue as he made you sat in his thighs, he opened up a bottle and poured something similar to a voice like oil, you about to turned your head but Sukuna smashed your face against his chest. You felt something rubbing against your hole before something huge was slammed inside of you.

Guess Sukuna’s fingers did something…

Your eyes were watery—he didn’t even moved. Not yet, but you felt so full. Sukuna ignored your whines, he simply slammed his hips up, a whimper escaped your throat. Soon, that one slam turned into many thrusted. Your hands clawed his back, Sukuna’s lower arms captured your waist. While his upper hand kept playing with your red erect nipples.

“What? Does it hurt?” Sukuna faked a cooed, your hole tightened. He laughed at your pathetic state. “It’s just one cock. You haven’t feel both of them.”

You grit your teeth, Sukuna entered his thumb, forcefully letting his second cock in. But he’s kind enough to stop his pace and letting you adjust. Yeah, you’re too full for this. One was making you full, but both? Yeah…

Sukuna gripped your waist—right as he tried to thrust his hips, cum filled your tight puffy hole. He couldn’t like, it caught him off guard to reached his climax early, but he’ll definitely deny that it’s because your hole feel good. Sukuna looked down to your stomach, the visible bulge amused him. The fact that you can still take both of his dicks cumming inside of you sure made him interested.

He studied your expression—your fucked up face, his hand gently touching the tip of your cock, making pre-cums. Sukuna dragged his upper right hand, gently taking your own hand to intertwined your fingers together, like blood and heart. Unable to be separated. Sukuna didn’t say much, but he simply leaving kisses all over your jaw as he now gently thrust his hips upwards.

He isn’t satisfied… Fuck. Poor hole.

Now Sukuna insisted of brining you everywhere…

Even if Sukuna met other sorcerers, he’ll always bring you. Leaving you often helping him while Sukuna himself tried to not go insane when you’re next to him, neither him trying to kill the other sorcerers who linger their gaze at you. Well, that’s most on your part to hold him back to do so.

And you, being his wife—husband. Usually got your payment too! Eating… asking Sukuna to do the work instead, and most importantly, the river. Sukuna was now more often beside you as you admire the waters, it’s honestly a reason for him to loved everything about you, worship you, loving you, really. Just about everything. Thanks to that too, he now barely killed clans for food, And till now. You questioned yourself neither it was a bad thing or good thing.

But everything doesn’t last forever. That, was what Sukuna always forget to remember.

Mornings was always filled by you and Sukuna walking together for a morning walk, it was calming. The birds are singing and the air was fresh, everything was perfect. Since, today. Sukuna doesn’t had anything busy going on, spending time with his husband sounds like a good idea. Isn’t it? Walking together inside of a forest side by side, your face was the only thing that kept Sukuna entertained.

“Sukuna,” the name owner turned his head directly at you. The way his name runs on your lips nearly made his heart stopped. You then pointed at a bird that was singing happily. “It looked pretty, don’t you think?”

Sukuna stared at the bird that’s in front of his very own eyes. He’d just kill the poor fellow on the spot, but the way you looked at it with those lively eyes, he nodded. “Indeed…”

“Can we… have it?” You looked at him with a grin on your lips. “Please~?”

He didn’t seemed to be amused, rather. Sukuna pinched your cheek. “[Name], there’s already many wild creatures at home.”

His answer isn’t enough, you grabbed his palm. With such innocent and… sex eyes, you begged Sukuna. It was a silent beg which usually doesn’t work, but seems like he can’t take it anymore. Sukuna rubbed his face, looking at you as a sigh of defeat escaped from his lips. Giving you an approving nod, your eyes lit up as you carelessly run to the tree where the bird still hummed.

Sukuna kept his eyes on you from a distance, as the bird laid at your finger, you brought it close to your cheek, it happily snuggled at your cheek. The bird’s ear coverts was rubbing against your cheek, it trickled but doesn’t really hurt. You looked at Sukuna, the distance isn’t far, just a few steps and he’ll able to carry you. But what he didn’t calculate is a blade coming at you with the speed of light.

It was fast—and definitely uncalled for. A blade—a katana strike perfectly through your heart, it’s almost impossible but there it was. It hurts like wild. Not to mentioned that there’s a weird feeling of something was blooming inside of you like a flower during spring, blood slowly came from your mouth like a vampire eating their first target. But they aren’t eating their target, you were the target.

“Fuck… ‘kuna—” you coughed—more blood came out, your eyes widened as you used your palm to hold the blood—the crimson from your insides. Sukuna was staring down at your, he was in front of you. You forced yourself to look up, why does he looked… blurry?

“Suku—” “Keep that mouth shut.” Sukuna’s voice was firm, you could hear the urgency within in. You wanted to tell him—wanted to cry and ask why does he look so blurry… until then, you saw black.

Black… everything was gone insight. Sukuna, who was blindingly looked around for some sort of clue, saw you on the ground—even more blood now coming from your mouth which you can’t even feel. Sukuna… lost you? He couldn’t be… right? Why… does it hurt? His heart arched with someone he can’t explain. Sukuna kneed down, using his hand to moved your body as if he was trying to see if a cat died nor not.

Fuck, he may lost you now.

Sukuna looked down at your corpse. He lost everything, his favorite smile, what makes him genuinely happy, what filled the empty useless gaps… now it’s all gone with a blink. The king of curses lost someone special to him…

Special?

He threw the katana that pearced your heart, his arms wrapped around your body, making sure you were in a comfortable position even if you can’t feel it anymore. Your head resting against his chest, Sukuna carried you like the day where you two meet. He doesn’t know what to do now, but he just walk to the now gloomy forest until he reached where… ah you know it.

The river looks more… gloomy now, everything felt empty, at least. That’s what Sukuna saw, he sat down—his hand gently touching your paled mouth, where the blood already tried out. His eyes met with the white hasu that now resembles you even more. Sukuna doesn’t know neither to be happy or sad about it, he reached out to the clear mineral to wiped the blood from your lips.

He stared at you, and for a moment. He realizes something. He loved you. He fucking loved you so much.

Sukuna knew he loved you, but he never expected to feel such lost. A human—something that’s not eternal. But here he was, grieving to his husband, his forever love life. Since you weren’t here anymore… killing that piece of shit who killed you wouldn’t end with a scolding.

“I hope we can meet again, someday [Name].”

last minute note; i legit uploaded this in my office... welp. thief oc coming up ! be a lil patient here :). curious, since both @carnalcrows and @sooniebby did a face claim for their ocs... are you guys interested for me to do it next?

[akutasoda]

hold my hand, lean on me

synopsis - jiaoqiu adjusting to domestic life with you

includes - jiaoqiu

warnings - gn!reader, spoilers for 2.5, angst w/ some comfort, fluff, maybe ooc, wc - 1.3k

a/n: i actually cannot get this darn foxian out my mind :( shouts to @thelightofmylife for some vv helpful pointers and information ^^ tbh i feel like this is just 1.3k words of word vomit HAHA

the healers finished informing you of the situation, thanking them you then closed the door to the shared abode. a sigh you didn't know you were holding back escaped alongside a glance down to the papers the healer's handed over. you could read them later, the news followed by the details of it wasn't exactly a pleasant thought, if anything it might be a final push for the tears to start falling.

your thoughts were distracted by the sound of hesitant, shuffling footsteps. turning around, you were met with the sight of jiaoqiu standing idly not too far from you - almost as if he was taking in the surroundings, although now it was more him trying to piece together the memories of what it looked like.

jiaoqiu had arrived back at the yaoqing not too long ago, admittedly rather late, but the luofu's alchemy commission had kept him for a while. he'd been forced immediately to the yaoqing’s alchemy commission as they were now the ones responsible for his treatment plan for the future. a short talk with them had then led to him being escorted back home. to you.

upon arrival, some of the alchemy commission healers explained to you about the entire situation. they kept it short but soon handed you a full document containing everything from “patient’s injuries” to “doctor’s post-charge advice” - each and every sentence pained you more and more, you refused to acknowledge what would've happened if moze hadn't found him, you would have to thank him later.

the healers had asked you to take upon the responsibility of looking after him at home, and in most day to day life scenarios - at least until he adjusted properly. they asked you to keep strict to the “post-charge advice” as otherwise it probably would cause more harm to him, making his healing process longer and maybe even worsening it beyond healing.

“jiao-ge” you called out, to let him know that you were still near. it pained to see the somber look on his face. the last thing jiaoqiu saw wasn't anyone, anywhere or anything he loved. no. it was something he hated, someone he loathed in unfamiliar territory surrounded by no-one he knew.

now he stood in familiar territory, with the person he loved the most. but he couldn't bask in the sights or even see you. all he had was memories to cast images in his mind, to help pretend that nothing was wrong and that he could see what he remembered.

you knew that he wouldn't want you doting on him. jiaoqiu needed to adjust, to learn how to go about his life as usual and you overly fussing over him would only probably annoy him and prolong that.

it had been a long day, any proper conversations could be held tomorrow. to no surprise, jiaoqiu insisted he could get ready and do everything by himself. you granted him that independence. eventually, admittedly with some help, you two were ready for sleep. and even though you were right there beside him, jiaoqiu never felt further from you.

---✩

the process was slow. nobody would've said that it was going to be anything other than that. jiaoqiu very clearly wanted independence. he didn't want to seen as a burden, he chose to do this, and knowing that people were constantly doting on him instead of continuing with their lives made him feel awful.

one of the first things you did was help make your shared abode more compatible with his needs. an easy step was making sure that everywhere was clean and free of obstruction, normally moze always

showed up and helped with cleaning as well. another step was helping jiaoqiu become able to navigate the home on his own, mainly he acted on memory but you needed to make sure that where he frequented was always obstruction free.

occasionally you could hear a bump or hurried shuffling from the room over, each and every time you dropped what you were doing and checked up on him. it was never anything major and if anything it always resulted in jiaoqiu silently cursing at the piece of furniture he walked into.

you two always adopted a verbal calling system at home. should you need to leave the room he was in, you would tell him exactly where you were going and what you were doing - that way he knew where you were. jiaoqiu would also inform you of where he planned on going just in case something happened or he got lost.

although, admittedly, for the first couple of weeks jiaoqiu stuck to you like glue. to him, it was a way to quickly adjust and therefore he wouldn't have to be a burden for long. however jiaoqiu subsequently had developed a rather interesting habit, one neither of you addressed - you because you thought it was sweet and didn't want to embarrass him, him because he didn't want to admit it.

and that was him using his tail as a guidance. at home, it was either curled around your waist, wrist or leg. in public, it lingered around your wrist, so much so that it constantly tickled you. it was a way of him making sure you were there with him, you hadn't left him and he was okay.

although most admittedly it was worse at night. he would hold you close, an ironclad grip that usually you would ask for him to let up but you knew he needed this. tail curled around your waist, preventing you from escaping. in his opinion, you helped him sleep easier, much easier than any fragrances he was prescribed.

however, this always came with a risk. due to residual lupitoxin still in his body, jiaoqiu became frequently prone to nightmares which plagued him constantly. everytime his mind was tricked into believing that the borisin were waiting, patiently looking for an opening to get revenge.

he wakes up because of them, drenched in fear and swear, and because he's so fearful the lupitoxin can take hold easier. suddenly he's tricked into believing that the borisin have found him. unbeknownst to the fact that it's you. so you sometimes take the liberty of sleeping away from him, but then he wakes up to an empty bead but he can hear someone in the room over and when he finds out it was you, sleeping away from him, he becomes consumed with guilt.

a major change for him was his inability to cook anymore. jiaoqiu was determined to do so with his impairment but he needed to learn. nowadays you cook with him. instead of being hushed out of the kitchen, you stood closely beside him, handing him the tools he needed, telling him where you put them so he could find them again on his own.

gently reminding him to lay off the spices when he requested more, he was to avoid spicy foods at all costs for the time being. a hard change, one that he absolutely despised but he knew better than to go against a doctor's order. helping him go out and buy ingredients, listening to what he told you and carrying out the tasks diligently.

---✩

and that was a shortlist of changes. you were very happy to accommodate anything for him, so long as he felt comfortable and loved. it wasn't uncommon for jiaoqiu to experience major lows, it was only natural and you needed to be there for him.

to listen to him, to show him that the support he needed was always a simple ask away - you didn't want to push to dote on him for many reasons. but that was different to showing genuine care and love to him when he started seeing himself as a useless, dependent person.

life would be different. for a while or maybe even forever, perhaps feixiao would strike lucky in her search for a healer that knew how to help. but for now, you two would have to learn how to adjust. to be there for eachother.

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn

[doomedmoth]

Three’s a crowd

Pairing : Poly and bisexual fem!reader | reader x alexandra saint mleux x charles lerclerc

Warnings : use of y/n, polyamory, fluff, very light angst, request, not much more tbh

Synopsis : Request : Could you write a poly fic about Charles, Alexandra and Y/N ? Everyone is celebrating Charles’ brand LEC but since Charles and Alex are the public couple (for Ferrari PR etc), Y/N can’t do anything. She’s starting to feel left out because of it since they’re going out and celebrating without her, they keep leaving her out and forgetting important dates (her birthday or smthg). Happy ending please !

Moth’s prophecy💡: Thank you to the anonymous cryptid for the request, I tweaked it a bit but still kept the main plot, and I hope you and the other poly enjoyers will like it ! Thanks again for the support and great ideas !

“Okay one… two… three… and posted !” You threw yourself in Charles’ arms as he clicked on the button and threw his phone away immediately, catching both you and Alex in a cuddle.

“You did it !” Alexandra pinched at his cheeks and you ruffled his hair, hands trembling with excitement.

Finally his ice-cream brand, Lec, was out, the main announcement posted on Instagram. The end of countless sleepless nights and never ending zoom calls, meetings at the worst time possible, and secrets to keep. Of course, now the promotion would be another handful, but at least the three of you would deal with it together. And you had always been pretty good at supporting your lovers.

You got into a more comfortable position on Charles’ lap, head resting against his, as Alexandra had gotten up and started her, as she called it, “happy dance”, which consisted mostly in jumping in circles screaming until she got dizzy. As you snorted, Alexandra very clearly loosing balance, Charles took your hand in his, softly rubbing it with his fingers.

“Thank you… I know it hasn’t been easy to deal with this on top of the races and everything… You’ve been amazing. I’ll never be able to thank you enough.” You could not help a smirk from coming up your lips, and thought this was the time to charge again.

“I know how you can repay me…” You straddled him, and as he did his best to appear confident and in charge, his blush betrayed his shyness. Alex had stopped spinning, seemingly much more interested in what was taking place on the couch. “Maybe you could…” You got closer to him, and peppered his neck with kisses until you got to his ear, in which you whispered as seductively as you could. “Maybe you could get me a dog ?”

He immediately rolled his eyes and playfully pushed you away as you laughed at his bright red cheeks. You had dreamt of having your own dog for so long, specifically a longhaired dachshund, and both Alex and Charles had said no multiple times. Charles’ arguments were mainly that he was away too often to properly care for it, and your girlfriend, who called the breed “hairy sausages”, argued she would have to deal with all the responsibilities of it because both yours and Charles’ works took a lot of time. And though she actually found dogs very cute, she did not have an interest big enough for them to manage her schedule around one.

You had pleaded to Lewis to use Roscoe to convince them, managed to go partly remote with your job, and flooded their messages with videos of dogs almost daily. At this point, you were seriously considering getting one in secret just to see how long it would take for them to realize, and then argue it is too late to give it back.

“Sure.” What ? You sat straight up on Charles as he pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. You couldn’t have heard well. You turned to Alex, who shrugged.

“I can’t deal with seeing you cry over reels anymore, and Mimi’s pretty cute.” She gave you a warm smile. Mimi was your friend’s dog, the one who got you into dachshund in the first place.

“You’re not serious, are you ? You’re just in a good mood. You’re joking.” Charles actually laughed, and you thought your heart wouldn’t be able to handle a prank.

“Promis juré ma princesse. Why not, you want one, you can take care of it, who am I to deny you ? Let’s get you a dog.”

No matter how well isolated was your apartment, you thought you would be lucky if no neighbors came to complain tomorrow. There was a lot to celebrate for one night.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I really need you to give Leo back, we’re going to take pictures…” Searching desperately for support in Alex’s eyes, you felt sick when you saw her staring at the ground. You were so shaken you let the event coordinator take the puppy from your arms and give him to Alexandra, who sheepishly turned her back to you and walked towards the press wall.

Charles himself was nowhere and everywhere at once, it was no use trying to get him to advocate for you. Too stressed by the beginning of the racing season combined with the launching events for Lec, he had mindlessly agreed to most of his agent’s suggestions, including playing what the Ferrari PR team had called “happy family”. Following the announcement of Carlos’ replacement, they needed good news to balance, and thought emphasizing Charles’ couple and furry kid would pull at a few heartstrings. But in their good Italian traditional beliefs, there was no place for a third, and since you had always been more busy, and therefore more discreet, than Alexandra, the cut had been made. They were to be the hit couple for a while, in a vain but admittedly successful attempt at calming the fans.

You had had little to no say, Charles having always been your voice in those kinds of businesses, and Alexandra being media trained to perfection. You thought back on your promises, on your dedication to be supportive of them, and decided the best thing to do would be to go get some air. It wasn’t as if you would be missed anyway.

As you stepped on one of the secluded balconies, the cold breeze of the night came to slap your face, and without anyone’s arms or jacket to comfort you, you suddenly felt very lonely. The evening had dragged on enough, you just wanted to go home. Debating between taking a cab or waiting for your lovers, you took out your phone, only to be flooded by notifications from your socials. You barely used them, so had no idea why they would be so active all of a sudden.

Both Instagram and Twitter greeted you with the same pictures taken either by fans or paparazzis. You shopping with Carlos’s girlfriend, Leo trotting happily by your side, as well as another few at a restaurant with friends, where Leo was sleeping on your lap while Charles and Alex were somewhere in the background, probably discussing going dancing after. The usual. But this time, all the comments seemed to agree on one thing. The dog wasn’t yours.

“Did they lend her the dog for the day ?”. “Leo’s godmother.” “Is she gonna be the babysitter while they’re gone ?” “Me when my friends get a baby”.

You three had always been private, but not secret. People made their own opinions anyway, and you did not care much about polishing a public persona. You did not use socials, Alex had private accounts, and Charles’ were managed by his PR team. In the end, even though you had dated Alexandra since high school, and Charles for a bit more than a year, the lack of official pictures or announcement, coupled with Ferrari’s new strategy, only served as validation to those who affirmed the real couple were Alexandra and Charles.

You felt sick, cold, and particularly lonely. Cab it would be.

“Babe what are you doing outside like that, you’ll get a cold !” You felt his jacket fall on your shoulders before you even heard him walk up to you. Ears buzzing, eyes watering, you weren’t sure you were able to face him.

“I’m gonna go home. I’ll leave you with your girlfriend and your dog if you don’t mind.” When you turned to him, you saw right behind one of the girls in charge of the party holding Leo, and your blood started boiling again. Charles was looking at you all confused, and you felt an itch to slap him.

“What ? What are you on about ? How ‘bout you come back inside, I think Leo misses you.” He chuckled, and you thought a full punch would probably be better than a slap.

“I don’t think your dog misses me.” The words felt like poison in your mouth, but you wanted him to get it. To understand how ridiculous this situation was getting. And why wouldn’t the girl put him down, he was clearly uncomfortable in her arms ? Why was no one taking it seriously ?

“Leo’s your dog, Y/N, I don’t get it…”

“Then give him back to me !” You screamed and the puppy yapped back, before jumping from the assistant’s arms, who shrieked and struggled to get him back. Too late, he had found your arms before she managed to pull the leash. “You should probably talk with your team, Charles.” He frowned at the use of his name, which almost always meant you were pissed. “Goodnight.”

As they finished filling their suitcases, you thought back on this evening, and that you probably should have shut your mouth. Following Lec’s launching party, what you hoped would be a wake up call for your lovers turned into something even worse. Charles was indeed called in for a talk with the PR team. And then Alex too. Your turn never came, and the more the days passed, the more it appeared your relationship was being taken over by management and marketing teams.

The following weeks had been a blur of unspoken tensions and meaningless routines. Breakfast alone, walking Leo only in the areas pre-approved to avoid pictures, going to work without him and coming home to new communication materials published with his face on it, work calls for your boyfriend stretching into the night, and your girlfriend going out so often it seemed her side of the bed was getting colder with each passing day. They both seemed to have undergone a sad transformation, their fiery and protective spirits dampened by forced compromises. Something told you they had been pushed to agree to the new directive, and yet you couldn’t help but stay mad at them. You understood Charles. The pressure he was under, the expectations of the whole team, the weight of his responsibilities. But Alexandra, you had known for too long. She had never been one to bow down and blindly agree to unfair decisions. She had loved you, through good and bad. She had promised you, together forever. And now she kept her hands by her side on the street and you wondered when her clothes had stopped smelling like you.

They kissed you goodbye, promised you mountains of gifts and a magnificent restaurant when they returned, but the door had not even closed when you fell crying to your knees. You had moved to the couch and slept there, your puppy watching over you, when your mother knocked on the door the following morning.

“Happy birthday darling !” She opened her arms and you ran in them, grabbing at your siblings behind her to get them in the hug too.

You had hoped to be out of tears by now, having spent the night reading articles speculating on why you were living with Formula 1 hottest couple -were you a distant relative ? A friend of Alex in need of a place to crash ?-, but the warm embrace of family members you hadn’t seen for months was enough to bring you back to the edge.

“Where are my favorite in-laws ?” She was beaming as she settled her belongings on the kitchen counter. “Oh that’s my baby grandson, come here baby !” She took Leo in her arms and you thought you had more time to breathe, but your younger brother tugged at your sleeve.

“Can Charlie take me on the boat ? I learned how to do a backflip at school and he can film me do it from the boat and then the others are gonna be so jealous and” You put your hand on his head and ruffled his hair softly.

“I’m sorry… Charles isn’t there. Alex too.” Your mother furrowed her brows and gave you a puzzled look. “Race weekend, and they were expected at an event they couldn’t cancel.” Your voice, barely above a whisper, was already shaking. You felt your tears ready to spill over, and gritted your teeth. “Last minute decision.”

Your brother only groaned and ran to the balcony to look at the port, already over it, but your mother came to hold your hand, and you exchanged a look of “we’ll talk about it later”.

Unfortunately, by the time you all came back from your evening out, and the kids were in bed, your mother was faced with the situation without leaving you any time to explain.

“Y/N, dear, come here please…” You sat next to her with two glasses of wine, and looked over her shoulder to her phone, where she had some celebrities gossip website open. “Is that the event they couldn’t cancel for your birthday ?” Her tone was cold, and you took at better look at the pictures.

A sunset movie-worthy, one of those that always brought tears to your eyes. A small table with candles and flowers on the beach, cocktails so colorful you could almost taste them from afar. Holding hands, looking at each other like the world had stopped, your lovers were apparently having the time of their life in a romantic restaurant, on your birthday evening. You took out your own phone. No messages.

The panic attack struck you without warning. Your heart had clenched all at once, and despite your mother’s attempt at laying you on your back, your muscles kept you rolled in a ball. You felt as if every breath was tearing apart your lungs, and could feel your heartbeat from your ears to the tip of your fingers. You could vaguely hear her talking to you, but it was as if a wall was standing between you, yet her touch felt very close, too close, as if her usually soft fingers were now burning your arms. Was it the end ? Was it how your great love story ended, alone on a Saturday night, crying so much you were drooling on the couch ? Your body was aching like never before, were you about to pass out ? To simply die ?

In the end you only managed to fall asleep after your mom calmed you down. You thought before closing your eyes that even your pain was disappointing.

You were helping your siblings pack up their bags when they came home, arms filled with packages. The little ones jumped to them, glad to have at least been able to say hello before leaving, but your mother stayed by your side, not even greeting them. She thanked them coldly for the gifts, and pushing the children towards the door, gave you a sympathetic look. She said she would always be there for you. She said you could come home if needed. But when Leo jumped on the couch and laid next to you, you knew no matter how painful it was, your home was here and there. You just needed time. You would figure it out, together. But not tonight. Tonight you just wanted out.

“Happy belated birthday, princesse.” Charles said tentatively, his voice tinged with uncertainty as he gestured to the mountain of gifts piled on the table. Alex sat by your side, but you got up before she could hold your hand.

“I don’t want your gifts. I want an apology. Think well about what you’ve done.” You kissed your puppy’s head and left the apartment immediately.

Almost running in the hallways and stairs, you got to his door panting. You knew he was back, they always made the journey together. So when he opened the door, clearly exhausted and surprised to see you, you broke down once again.

“I’m sorry Max… can I come in ?” He immediately closed the door behind you and called for his girlfriend, while his step daughter Penelope came to hug your legs. You collapsed on their sofa, shoulders shaking with silent sobs, unable to find the words to explain the depth of your pain. Kelly and Penelope tried to soothe you with soft voices and hugs, but Max only managed to pace the room, his jaw clenched in anger.

“What the hell happened ?” He had always been so sweet to you, so welcoming in this unfamiliar world. You felt bad for seeking comfort in his home after he had just came back. But the gates were opened, and while you cried, you still managed to make out a few words, enough for the couple to piece out the situation.

Penelope stayed close to you, hugging you with all the warmth a child could muster, while Kelly had been forced to stand in front of the door to prevent your friend from committing murder. They were now arguing silently, and you felt your eyes get heavier by the minute, strangely lulled to sleep by their hushed whispers. You had finally put words on what was happening, and the little girl’s cuddles had managed to calm you down to the point of dozing off.

“I think you should take her home.” Kelly murmured, still worried.

Max nodded in agreement, and he carefully scooped you in his arms, cradling you against his chest as he carried you back to your apartment. Charles was standing in the doorway, Alex pacing behind him, and both let him pass, faces etched with concern.

“You two stay right there.” Max’s voice was sharp, commanding not to argue. He laid you down in your bed, tucking the covers around you and stroking your hair until sleep finally claimed you. When he tried to leave the apartment, your two lovers were still standing by the door, begging to be heard.

“Max, please, what’s going on…” Alexandra tried to get close but he immediately took a step back, and pointed his finger at her.

“You had your chance to make things right by staying this weekend. You blew it up. Take your responsibilities.” He then turned to Charles, and almost spat to his face. “And you… I thought family was supposed to always come first. Maybe I was wrong.” His face was distorted with anger, and his knuckles white on the door handle. “You two have to man up for once in your fucking life. Either you tell Ferrari, and everyone who’s putting their noise in your business, to fuck off, or you loose her.”

With that, he slammed the door, leaving Charles and Alexandra with the consequences of their actions. They knew they had been fooled. Manipulated. Two nights ago, when the pictures of them had been taken, they were having one of the worst conversation possible. One they wanted to share with you as soon as possible, and in person, and not on your birthday. They were now wondering how they could do so without sounding like liars.

Would you trust them ? Believe Charles, when he would tell you the PR team had said you weren’t cut for fame, that the spotlights were obviously making you stressed, that you would be happier away from it all ? Believe Alex, when she would admit that they had threatened her with your boyfriend’s career, as well as your own, reminding her that she had never needed to work, and that if she loved the both of you, she should let professionals handle the situation ? Believe them, when they would say that’s what they talked about at the restaurant, and that their look of love was captured when they thought of you home, and wished you were with them ?

They weren’t sure. The thought that you could decide to end it all, and you would be smart to do so, frightened them. When they finally went to bed, hands shaking and eyes wet, each one cuddling by your side, hoping this night would not be the last, you did not even wake up.

“Still not forgiven ?” Max pushed Charles’ shoulder softly, half teasing him, half genuinely concerned for his friend, even though he hated to admit it. He had moved away from the group of men having a drink in the shared garden of their building, and had been staring at the moon for too long for someone in a good mood.

“I don’t know… She keeps saying everything is fine, but it’s clearly not. Even when we told her of our meetings, she was like… she agreed with them ?” Charles turned to his friend, disbelief written all over his face. “Said they knew what they were talking about, that it was for the best. Keeps walking behind us in the street, encourages us to go out just us two, even refuses to hold Leo when there are fans ! Her own dog, Max !” Charles felt the arm of the taller man lay on his shoulder, and he rested his head in the embrace, sighing.

As he was about to turn for a full hug, he heard Carlos whistle from the table, and Daniel signed at them to get back and away from the hedges.

“Paps.” The Aussie simply said when they got back, pointing a finger at the light of a camera through the bushes. “What a waste of money living here if they still manage to get in.” Max groaned and started to pick up the bottles, inciting everyone to go back inside.

“What a pain those fuckers…” He grumbled, clearly annoyed to not be able to enjoy his evening out with friends without the sound of camera shutters ruining everything. “What fucking interest is there to our lives, go get one of your own or something for god’s sake…” Everyone agreed but still followed him to one of the shared inside spaces, frustration hanging heavy in the air.

As they settled around the pool table, anecdotes about obsessive fans and annoying paparazzis were shared, but Charles’ mind was drifting elsewhere. An idea had begun to take root, a small glimmer of hope for his relationship, to maybe get back his girlfriend, before sadness had taken over most of her. He chugged down the rest of his drink, and called for the attention of his friends.

“What if… what if we used the paps ? What if I said fuck you to Ferrari without dealing with the legal issues ?” A spark appeared in their eyes, and in their last sober decision, they called Alexandra to come down, all agreeing she would be their voice of reason.

Oblivious to it all, you were reading in bed when the gathering happened, and would never know of it.

Only a few days later was the plan put into action. Charles’ idea of using actual paparazzis was turned down by Alex, who reminded the boys of the consequences on their careers if anyone found out who made the call. Despite his drunken arguments of being ready to fuck it all for his girls, soundly supported by his friends, she had found a much safer solution.

When you stepped on the huge balcony, you felt tears come to your eyes, happy ones, for the first time in weeks. Your lovers had crafted a perfect romantic dinner for you, straight out of a movie. The table was laid out for three, candles lit up and rose petals everywhere on the ground. A bottle of expensive champagne was chilling in a bucket of ice, waiting to be popped podium-style, and Leo was waiting by the door with a little bow tie on his collar. You had missed being just the three of you, no waitress, no management, no friends, just a homemade dinner and loving looks.

So when they took you in their arms, wrapping you in love and affection, peppering your skin with kisses and sweet compliments, you simply gave in without a care for anything else. You hugged and kissed until you had no breath left, and let them treat you, for you had deserved it.

Yet the whole time, unbeknownst to you, Daniel and Max had been stationed right under your balcony, hidden from view as they snapped pictures of the intimate scene unfolding. They did their best to capture every shared glance and affectionate touch, every kiss and hug that would make it impossible to deny the love shared between you. They had all warned paparazzis were roaming in the area the night before, which would make the whole thing even more believable for the PR teams. The secret mission was going to perfection, and when you retreated indoors with a seductive wink to your partners, Charles and Alexandra gave a subtle thumbs up to the boys to signal the end of the work for tonight.

As you awoke to the gentle rays of sunlight through the curtains you had not closed well last night, a sense of peace came over you for the first time in a while. Yesterday’s romantic dinner, and night, was still fresh in your mind and body, and you smiled when greeted with your lovers’ sleeping faces when you turned in the bed. Reaching as quietly as possible for your phone, your soft morning suddenly turned to hell as you saw hundreds of notifications and missed calls appear on the lock screen.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you scrolled them all. Missed calls from Ferrari. Messages from long lost friends. And obviously, dozens and dozens of pictures plastered across every gossip account related to Formula 1. It seemed an anonymous account had taken and posted pictures of your very private dinner during the night, and then disappeared, right after the pictures had been reposted everywhere.

With trembling hands, you turned to look at Charles and Alexandra, still sleeping peacefully by your side. Instead of finding solace in their presence, a wave of dread washed over you, the fear of losing everything you held dear threatening to consume you whole. Would this be the breaking point for them ? Would Ferrari ask you to move out ? Would they all lie, deny completely your existence ?

The sound of Leo’s plaintive cries echoed through the room, snapping your partners from their slumber. They came even closer to you, filled with concern as your breathing got more and more erratic, tears streaming down your face. They took turns kissing away your tears and whispering words of comfort until you managed to give them your phone, as well as theirs. You tried regulating your breathing as they scrolled, and sat down, expecting a tough conversation straight after.

Alex simply threw her phone away after not even two minutes of screen time, coming back to lay her head on your chest and faking purring. Charles sighed, and opened the camera of his phone. Had they asked him to make an apology video ? He turned the camera to Leo, and added his hand to where Alex’s fingers were already intertwined with yours. Snapping a pic of the small dog with your three hands next to him, he immediately posted it on his story on Instagram, which he had apparently gotten back the login details for, with the caption “Family 4️⃣❤️”.

“About time it was out officially, right love ?” Charles stroked your cheek lovingly while your girlfriend hummed in agreement, nuzzling closer to you. “I was thinking your red dress for the event next week, and we could get me a new suit but” He kept rambling on, his phone buzzing non stop on his side table, head in the crook of your neck. Too stunned to speak, you simply laid back in the bed and let him talk your ear off. It wasn’t over then ?

By the time of the next Lec event, you were sure it was far from over. Alex was holding your hand, and you had gotten matching nails the day before. Charles had insisted you were the only one to wear red tonight, and he kept you as close as physically possible, one hand always on your waist. The little pup struggled to find his place in all this affection, but you made sure to keep him in your arms whenever he needed comfort, and otherwise refused to give the leash to anyone else. When Charles’ agent came to warn you there would be trouble, Alex stepped in front of you with the look of defiance you had always loved, and simply told him “With all due respect, fuck off.” Charles shrugged, saying this wasn’t a Ferrari event anyway, and smiled as he took you two away.

You finally stood tall and proud, at peace and at home. The party was quite private, you were mostly surrounded by friends and well-wishers, and one in particular came to greet you with the biggest smile on his face.

“As pretty as ever querida !” Carlos took you in his arms, and gave a small pet to Leo’s head. He congratulated you, and gesturing to the PR team seemingly having a breakdown in the corner of a room, he chuckled. “The only thing I won’t miss at Ferrari is their shitty strategy.” He winked at you before going back to the buffet, not without a last word “It’s clear the only happy family they should advertise is you three, with how they’re looking at you.”

You turned back to meet their eyes. Charles raised his glass to you, and Alex’s smile was brighter than the neon lights. You felt filled with pride, love, a sense of validation like no other. You thought of your mother, of her warm embrace and comforting words. You hoped she would see the pictures of tonight. You hoped she knew you had a home away from home in them. And so you ran to them, and laughed until your cheeks hurt, and danced until the lights went out, and promised to love until the very last star in the sky burnt out.

[sturnsmadl]

bf!matt headcannons!

warnings!- swearing, angst (light ig), mostly fluff, some smut, not proof read, lover boy matt tbh, cuddling, kissing, idk what else :).

bf!matt who loves holding hands.

bf!matt who is possessive at parties.

"who's that?"

"some drunk guy. thought i was his girl."

"right.."

kisses you

bf!matt who refuses to let you do anything.

"the laundry.."

"nuh uh. move."

bf!matt who ties your shoelaces for you.

"i can do it matt."

"so can i."

bf!matt who keeps his hands warm in your jeans back pocket.

bf!matt who loves physical touch.

bf!matt who always drags you on late night walks during fall.

"we went last nightt!!"

"babe. fall doesn't last forever."

bf!matt who wipe your tears and hugs you when your upset.

"shh..your okay.."

bf!matt who adores carrying you.

"matt i can walk."

"i knowww. but carrying you is fun."

bf!matt who gets you a cat.

"its for you!"

"is it..?"

"i mean...mainly me..but yeah.."

bf!matt who can't stop touching you.

"matt its too hot. let go."

"your too hot."

"fuck off matt."

laughs

bf!matt who isn't massive on PDA but will do small touches.

bf!matt who loves hooking up in his car.

"fuck...yes baby.."

"matt! yes..fuck! yes!"

bf!matt who gets hard from you just sitting in his lap.

bf!matt who is definite that you're the mother of his children.

"we all have that phase matt."

"its not a phase. she's gonna be the mother of my kids chris."

"okay buddy.."

bf!matt who buys you a lot of makeup.

bf!matt who loves giving you hugs and cuddling.

"hi baby."

"oh hi. your back early huh?"

"yep..cuddles?"

bf!matt who made you your own drawer in his room.

bf!matt who always wants to be helping you.

"okay..lets wash this hair. huh?"

"i can wash it.."

"your tired and i love you so im gonna help."

bf!matt who needs to be near you at all times.

"where'd you go?!"

"to the bathroom.."

"jesus..could've told me.."

"wha- yeah..okay. go to sleep."

bf!matt who sits outside the shower door while you shower.

"and i was thinking. what if i just taught you to drive?"

"do we need to talk about this while im showering?"

bf!matt who loves filming sex tapes, especially backshots.

bf!matt who is extremely moody when you're gone.

"matt can you take the-"

"fuck off!"

"jesus..the fuck happened to you.."

bf!matt who hates arguing but you clearly pushed too far.

"probably my other man."

"what...?"

"what? i was kidding..matt.."

bf!matt who gives you silent treatment all day.

"can we talk..matt? come on.."

bf!matt who just cooks for himself he's so mad.

"you made my favourite? oh.."

walks away with a plate for himself

"fucking hell.."

bf!matt who doesn't pay attention to your apologies.

bf!matt who shoves past you, not realising how strong he is.

bf!matt who feels horrible when he accidentally hurts you.

"ow.."

"oh shit.. sorry baby. im so sorry okay? you're okay.."

bf!matt who finds you crying and is immediatley there.

"hey..is it still hurting? im so sorry.."

"no..im pregnant.."

bf!matt who attacks you with a hug when he finds out your pregnant.

"what?! oh my..oh my god! yes yes yes!"

bf!matt who is obsessed with your bump.

"so cute. a whole life's in there.."

"yep..you excited?"

"so."

bf!matt who is extremely overprotective while your pregnant.

"no!!"

"jesus..what?!"

"i can load the dishwasher. you sit."

"you made it sound like i was commiting a crime.."

bf!matt who always texts you while he's filming/streaming.

"can you put your phone down for 2 minutes??"

"yeah one second.."

"you said that 5 minutes ago!"

bf!matt who lets you force him into doing a tiktok dance with him.

bf!matt who freaks out at the birth.

bf!matt who takes the drive home a bit too carefully.

"babe, i know your nervous but we are barely moving."

"im not hurting the baby. im doing 20.."

"thats the problem."

a/n- this is just general bf matt unlike my others but yeah so this may push me back into my break because its absoulutely awful!! but im thinking of doing a halloween theme, doubt ill pull throught though! im so tired :)

taglist! @bellaonthelow @hrtsdollie @sturnclouds @christophersgf @ellizzyy @moonk1ss3d @phoenix062 @pixxiies @conspiracy-ash @blahbel668 @monroesturnns @gwennybenny @sturnobsessedwh0re @xoxo4chriss @pixie-sticks-are-good @wurlibydominicfike @anitahunt @ilusa @mattstrombolii @stvrlighht @asherrisrandom @amelia-sturniolo3 @lianomer

[starry-sophrosyne]

Oh! Uhm.. so about that... Yeah.. let me just...

what i think is funny about you coming at me with this specifically is that this au has the most, genuinely, correlation to a post that we previous bounced ideas back and forth/between XD /pos /gen

also because, you know that one arcane thing that we talked about? that au? yeah uh... it’s not exactly that but.. the societal makeup of it with Zaun and Piltover is.. that’s there!.. uh. it plays a big part too in his reasoning ahaha...

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ACTUALLY no, deleting my prior words because i will spoil a little too and MAN swizard i hope this hits you like a truck /j /pos /lh XD but anyways, the ending of the first part of the au uh.. it also mimics a certain duo that i talked about in that post too *COUGH* jayvik *COUGH* WHO SAID THAT-

(i say first part btw bc the second part of this au is, well, i've talked about it before; it's related to this one post i made, and i have kinda "talked" about the first part of the au in another one, but i think you guys dont know what im talking abt so i wont spoil just yet XD)

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anyways uhh, yeah!- Hey, atleast they do get their happy ending in a kind of way ahaha.. and yes the other two are affected by this but hey, that's what the second part is for! they don't come back but i'm a girl who HATES no closure, for better or for worse, so XD /hj /silly

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also the reason im so avoidant/obscure in this post is bc i dont i wont to fully explain the au in this post, atleast when it comes to specific details (unlike the mermay post i did, which, i WILL get to the second part guys i swear- ( ´ ᗣ ` )՞ )

this is mainly bc i have a few other posts i want to make and don't have the time lest my motivation disappear, but also because I'd like to treat it as its own post with somewhat of an thorough explanation/plot overview alongside world building premises, but again, similar the merfolk-pirate au i made

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also pen (@pen--anon), i was in the process of responding to swizard when i saw your tags so here you get your own little bit too XD

not living shield but indeed, self sacrificial.. also YES YOU bc you wrote WOTC but then spent your sweet time joining our ranks, and your recent writings posts too.. (⚆ ⚆) /hj /nsrs /lh /pos ; and I'd be genuinely honored if it sparked anything, really, your writings are unparalleled. ( ´﹀` ) /gen /pos

"maybe in another universe, i can save us you."

"no you can't."

[strawbvrrry]

࣪ ۪ ̃ ✿ STUCK WITH YOU

Synopsis -> Y/N, a bubbly and ambitious young girl, is shocked when her parents announce that they've arranged for her to marry Karina, the powerful and ruthless CEO of a large corporation. Y/N has always been driven to succeed on her own terms, and the thought of being tied down to someone she's never met is suffocating.

Paring -> ceo!Jimin x f!reader

Genre -> fluff, angst, arrange marriage au, ceo Jimin, written

Warnings -> a bit of toxicity, y/n is just an angel tbh, cold and mean Karina, angst like (lots), loveless marriage (or so Karina said), y/n’s gonna get hurt ALOT (not physically), mtba?

Status -> ongoing

Tag list -> opened

A/N -> okay soooooo created this account mainly with the purpose of writing written series like ughhh i j realized that smau isn’t the thing for me (even tho I wanted to make my other acc smau centered) so this is my series account ;)

EP 000 -> prologue

EP 001 -> meeting yu

EP 002 -> first day in hell

EP 003 -> only on papers

Taglist -> @yeetaberry127 @spidrgamer @sunshinez4 @tjdc25 @aesculapi @peranoo @yuyuy90 @dreamingst99 @awhrin @jellaaa @syronns @siyooungi @hyunboo @gtfoiydlyj @r4cjh @wonyoluvr @deuxae @jjjaliyah @saysirhc @gigislovergirl

[thelov3lybookworm]

Flicker Out

Summary: Azriel's chest becomes hollow, and the place where once love bloomed, only emptiness remained.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 1950

Warnings: angst, angst, death (but she comes back) az in agony, a lil bit of me being poetic ofc 🤭 did i mention angst? oh and more angst and angst

A/n: based on this request by an anon. i adore this request and it was litterally one of my fav ones to write. i just couldnt stop writing once i started tbh 🥹

(@potatoplace this is the fic i mentioned hehehe 🤭😏)

anyways, enjoyyy🥹🤭

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

There was almost nothing that could distract Azriel when he was locked in battle. He could not afford to let his mind stray from plotting the next defence, the next manoeuvre, the next attack. It was almost similar to a dance, except he did not know the song and hated his partner, and he also had to be mindful of anyone who might attack him while he was focused on this waltz between life and death.

The soldier whose sword had come within an inch of Azriel’s throat- only the second one since the battle began, unsurprisingly- sneered at Azriel, his teeth stained red and almost half of his face slashed by a vicious stab wound.

Azriel almost pitied the male. Almost. And only because he knew a thing or two about having untreatable scars after escaping the clutches of death.

Still, Azriel heaved his whole body weight against his sword forcing the soldier to yield a step. Azriel’s eyes moved quickly, searching for places the soldier might have left open for him to attack, and gleefully, Azriel noted that his ribs were open. His armour seemed to have chipped off in a corner, and seemed a size entirely too big.

That’s stupid, but good for me.

Azriel moved his blade away from his opponents, swiftly bringing it down to the side of his ribs. The blade had almost touched the male’s unarmoured body when Azriel faltered.

Too empty.

Void.

How?

Azriel breathed in, his eyes losing their focus before a sharp sting brought his attention to the dagger that now seemed to have befriended the skin and bones of his thigh. He looked up, feeling the blood drain from the wound on his thigh- though the concern was in the back of his mind- and his heart. The place where constant love from his mate flowed, a gaping wound had appeared. That hurt more than any fatal wound to his body could.

How?

Azriel did not see nor hear anything around him, his consciousness too busy scrambling to figure out why he could no longer feel her. But it was the warrior instincts in him that his peers had drilled into him, making him instinctively raise his sword, eyes slowly moving to meet the spooked gaze of his enemy, and within the moment, those same eyes stared up at the open, vast sky, unseeing and unfeeling.

But Azriel was already bolting towards where he had felt the last pump of love coming from, and nothing and no one, even the mother, could have stopped him from cutting through the soldiers trying to get in his way as smoothly and viciously as a hot knife cut through butter.

Y/n. Please.

Azriel’s chest heaved, tiny needles stinging his sides and the muscles in his thigh protesting, but still, he ran. Ran towards his love, the one he doubted but refused to admit was…

Gone.

Azriel spread his wings, despite knowing it would just drain his energy faster. He could not walk through his shadows either. They were tired too. Running took too much out of him, and flying would take him to her faster, even if it hurt his muscles and wounded wings.

Please. Just please stay.

From the height his wings took him to, he looked around, and then leaned forward, gliding through the air and riding the breeze that took him closer to where his mate was.

The first thing he saw was a small crowd of his family members. Mainly, Rhys, Feyre and Cassian. The second thing he saw as he touched the ground was the cauldron.

And then…

Y/n.

She lay motionless on the ground, staring up at the sky.

And in that moment, Azriel didn’t care that Rhys stood over his sister’s body, crying. Azriel did not care that his family members who did not know of his relationship with Y/n stared at him wide eyed as he pushed them away from her.

He simply dropped to his knees, his thigh protesting. But he gently grabbed Y/n’s cold hand, his own scarred ones shaking and covered in blood. He let loose a ragged breath, eyes filling up with water as he stared into the empty gaze of his beloved.

He screamed.

A loud, wordless scream ripped from his chest, the sheer pain and longing and regret echoing through the battlefield, even worlds not his own. His heart no longer beat in that familiar, unnoticeable rhythm people come to ignore most of the time, instead beating like a wardrum.

Hollow and empty, but still too loud for him to not hear.

Where once love bloomed, only sadness and pain remained, and Azriel continued screaming.

When he could no longer scream, he weeped.

He let his forehead rest on his mate’s chest, and he wept. Deep, sorrowful sobs ripping from his throats. They were as deep and powerful and soft as his love for his mate.

And when he couldn’t weep, he whimpered. Sorry, quiet whimpers resembling the silence and lack of warmth in his body and the bond that had once tied the bridge between two souls. The sounds escaping him were low, almost silent, but they were just as loud and impactful as his silent love for Y/n when they could not afford to love freely and loudly.

Azriel’s shadows had regained enough of their power to brush against his ears, his hair and shoulder like Y/n’s hands had once touched him, gentle and soothing and calming.

But there was no calming now, for the storm rising from the shattered pieces of his heart would no longer let him live in peace.

The only peace for him now was death and burial with his beloved.

"Az." The unmistakable shakiness in Rhysand’s voice made Azriel raise his head and meet the sorrowful eyes on his friend.

Azriel said nothing, only letting his eyes wander and take in the crowd that had only grown bigger since he had arrived. The high lords, all seven of them, stared down at him, some with tears in their eyes, like Rhysand, Helion and Tarquin. Some with empathy and pity, like Thesan and Kallias. And then some with quiet sadness and understanding, like Tamlin and Beron.

Under other circumstances, Azriel would have wondered why Beron looked like he knew and had been through what Azriel was experiencing, but in the moment as he tightened his grip around his mate’s hand and curled closer to her cooling body, he could not care less.

"Az," Rhys repeated. "What are you doing?"

But Rhys looked like he already knew what Azriel was doing. So Azriel said nothing, just let his forehead go back to resting on her shoulder.

Muffled words surrounded Azriel, but he heard none of them as he focused on somehow reaching his mate. There must be some way, some sort of… connection to bring her back. Maybe her lingering soul.

Something, anything.

Moments later, Azriel felt a familiar hand grip his shoulder. Despite his lack of will to look at the person, he lifted his head slightly to meet Cassian’s gaze.

"Move back, they’re trying to bring her back."

Azriel stared at Cassian, the words looping in his head for a moment before he could truly process them, then he nodded and scooted back. It was almost unrealistic, but still, Azriel was a drowning male and the hope a wood plank that he latched on without thought.

Azriel watched as Rhysand stepped forward and lifted his hand, staring at it for a moment, tears rolling down his cheeks before he turned his hand, a drop of moonlight dropping straight onto Y/n’s chest.

All the high lords took turns repeating the action one after another, and Azriel watched numbly, still on his knees on the ground, refusing to lose hope but at the same time forcing himself to not hope.

At last, Tamlin stepped away from Y/n’s body, and Azriel leaned forward, his eyes wide as he waited for that feeling to take root in his chest again, the one he had cherished for the past ten years.

But nothing happened for a long moment, and the flame of hope that had begun warming his insides began to flicker out.

"Rhys." Azriel mumbled, his voice cracking. "What happened? Why is she not…"

"Oh Az." Cassian whispered, wrapping an arm around Azriel’s shoulder from the back.

Azriel just stared at her. "Why?"

Long moments passed, and then…

There.

Life.

Just life, pure and untainted, began glowing at the end of the bond, and Azriel laughed.

He laughed, tears pouring from his eyes.

"Az?"

It took Azriel a while to form the two words he uttered, the smile on his face making it impossible to speak.

"She’s back."

Azriel felt Rhysand’s gaze on him, but after Y/n’s eyes slid closed, his gaze was ripped away.

Then Y/n opened her eyes again, blinking twice before her eyes found Azriel’s, unprompted and instinctive.

"Hey." She whispered, and Azriel laughed again. He leaped forward and tackled her into a hug, his hands shaking worse than they had before.

"Hey." He whispered in her ear, and she giggled, patting his back before she stopped suddenly.

"Az… Rhys."

Azriel pulled away, glancing up. He did not care about what Rhys might do to him anymore, considering he had very nearly lost his mate without even having the chance to scream and proclaim his love for her from the tops of Velaris’s mountains like he had sworn to her he would one day. Rhys’s wrath was the least of his worries.

Everyone who was not a part of the inner circle had departed while Azriel had been busy breathing in the fact that Y/n was alive, that she was here. Rhysand stood with his arms folded against his chest, in that protective stance every brother had when it came to their sisters.

But there was that slight tilt to the corner of his lips, a happiness in his stern eyes.

Azriel could not tell if it was because of Y/n being alive or something else.

"Uh…" Y/n mumbled, sitting up. "Hey, Rhys."

He sighed, rubbing his brows as Azriel helped Y/n stand. He quietly stepped forward and gathered his little sister in his arms, holding her close to his heart as Azriel watched, his chest feeling full again.

Though a certain hollowness lingered, and Azriel almost knew it would follow him around like the ghost of his past.

Rhysand pulled away, holding the back of Y/n’s head.

"I don’t know what you two have been up to, and frankly, I don’t think I even want to know, but I will not interfere. When you’re ready, I want to know everything." He glanced at Azriel, the single glance telling Azriel he would have been ten feet under ground by now if his sister was not watching.

Azriel dipped his head, gaze moving back to Y/n. She smiled at him, reaching out to take his hands.

Rhys turned to Feyre, taking her hand too. "Freshen up, rest. Then we’ll talk."

Cassian was already gone, left to find Nesta by the time Rhys winnowed Feyre away. Azriel turned fully to Y/n then.

"Don’t you dare do that again."

She giggled, grabbing his collar and pulling him down. She pecked his cheek, then turned her head to rest it against his chest as he lifted his arms in a practised motion to hold her close.

"Will try."

He pinched her waist, making her squeal. He savoured the simplicity of the moment before pecking the crown of her head.

"I love you, Y/n."

The bond flickered.

And stayed.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Permanent Taglist: @berryzxx @sarawritestories @milswrites @throneofsmut

@daycourtofficial @sweetorangeblossom @secret-third-thing

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