#i have no doubt these thoughts have been voiced before

[lidiasloca]

hi!! can you write Azriel x reader (established mates) where reader is worried Azriel only wants to be with her because they're mates but in reality he's been in love with her for centuries but thought he didn't deserve her or something like that. maybe angsty at first because she's kinda avoiding him but with happy ending please and thanks :')

is it love, or just the fear of loneliness?

azriel x reader

summary: Is Azriel’s love for you born from only the mating bond that he was always so desperate for—or was his love always there, hidden beneath the surface? As doubts rise, only he can reveal the truth.

You were on your second refill when you realized Rhys and Cassian had drunk the rest of the bottles themselves.

“I mean,” the High Lord started, already laughing at his story. “I mean—”

“What do you mean, Rhys?” Feyre asked, watching her mate stomach the influence of the wine.

“I mean,” he tried yet again, but his laughter kept interrupting.

Cassian was chuckling as he eyed him with half-closed eyes. “Finish the sentence, brother.”

“I’m trying,” he laughed, now looking at you. Then to Azriel at your side, whose face lay freely joyful.

“I mean, do you remember,” he asked Cassian, “how all Azriel could talk about was having a mate?”

You could feel through the bond the quiet embarrassment of your mate.

But they didn’t, so Cass continued. “Oh—yes. He was desperate.”

“I want a mate? When will I find a mate? Where is she?” Cassian imitated with a stupid voice.

Feyre’s little giggle wasn’t half of the hysterical roars of the Illyrians. However, Az, instead of laughing, gave you a quick shy glance.

Rhysand had a hand on his stomach as he continued laughing with no end. Feyre gave you and Azriel an apologetic look. “Rhys, you are very drunk, my love.”

But Rhys’s eyes widened with a thought. “Do you remember—do you remember when Azriel got drunk?”

Cassian's grin only grew. “Oh, gods. It got even worse.”

“I want a maaaaate,” Rhys drawled, his imitating voice even worse than Cass’s. “Where is sheeeee?”

You couldn’t help but snort, trying to catch Azriel’s eyes. When he didn’t let you meet his gaze, you shifted your attention to your ring, instinctively rolling it. 

“Alright, that’s enough for tonight,” Feyre said softly when Rhys tried to gulp down another glass of wine.

“What do you mean? We're just getting started,” Cass said, then turned to you. “Y/N, you don’t know how much we owe you.”

“Yeah,” Rhys nodded. “I don’t think I could’ve listened to one more hour of Azriel begging for a mate.”

At least now, Azriel was smiling faintly, as if remembering. As if grateful.

But something in your chest… pained.

You suddenly felt it difficult to get air into your lungs, as if you were falling from great heights. 

He was desperate for a mate.

You never let your mind linger there for too long, it always hurt too much. You were scared of what you might grow to believe if you looked at the puzzle pieces for too long.

Desperate.

“I think I’m going to sleep.” The words spilled out before you could muster a believable tone. “Good night,” you said as you rose, not daring to look back at your mate’s face as you headed to your room.

Trying to make no noise, you slowly closed the door of your room and leaned your back on it.

The questions in your head were far too swift for you to dodge them.

What if that was all you were to Azriel? His mate?

Did he only want you because of the bond?

Because he finally found what he was desperate to find? Not necessarily love—but a mate.

‘He was desperate.’

You and Azriel had known each other for many years, and Azriel had barely noticed your existence.

You even believed he avoided you.

He never spoke to you, never looked at you for too long… until the bond snapped for you both at the same time.

And then, and only then, had you found the bravery to get to know him, even asking him out yourself.

Then, and only then, had he started to grow interested in you.

Everything… everything was just because of the mating bond.

A light knock sounded, startling you enough to take a step away from the door.

“It’s me,” the voice said. Azriel’s voice.

Not now. Not now.

You quickly wiped the tears from your face and took a deep breath.

You found that worried look on your mate when you opened the door, and it made it an effort not to cry again.

“The party is over?” you asked, trying to sound somewhat calm.

“I… I’m here to see if you are alright.”

You made yourself breathe before you fainted. “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You left,” he said as he came inside the room. “You seemed… sad.”

You closed the door and watched as he silently awaited your answer. It didn’t come.

Azriel took a step, leaving no safe space between you. One deep breath and your skin would brush his.

“Tell me, love. What is it?”

You shook your head.

“Is it… is it about what they said? About me?”

You didn’t say anything. But you didn’t shake your head either, so he took that as a yes.

There was something wary in his eyes as he asked, “About the mate thing?”

You felt dizzy, like you were falling from a cliff.

You had to hold on to somehting.

You tentatively took his index finger between your fingers, making him look down at where your hands joined. A faint smile bloomed on his worried face. “Are you mad at me about it?”

“No,” you murmured. “Not mad.”

“Then?” he urged, moving his other hand to cup your cheek. “You… you feel so quiet on the other side of the bond… I can almost not feel you at all.”

You met his eyes, saying sorry over and over through the sad colors on yours.

“I just,” you breathed. “I just thought about what they said, that you were desperate. And it made me think if maybe… if maybe you only wanted me because I am your mate. Not because—” You had to look away from his face. “You love me.”

Azriel’s long moment of silence was torture, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything else.

At last, he spoke. “Y/N, look at me. Please. Look at me, my love.”

You did, even when you felt another tear slipping down your cheek. He gently wiped it away.

“I love you. I need you to know that. I love you more than anything in this world. And I don’t love you because you are my mate.” More tears rolled down, yet these were not sad. “I’ve loved you long before I knew you were my mate.”

Your mouth opened partly at his confession, yet you didn’t know what to say.

He understood your confusion and further explained. “I did, Y/N. For so long, I loved you from a distance. From the moment I first met you, and you spoke—not to me, but… just hearing your sweet voice, I realized I was going to fall for you.”

“What?” you whispered low enough you weren’t sure he had even heard you.

But maybe he did, for he nodded, caressing your cheek with heartbreaking softness. “I thought you would never like me back.”

“But- I thought you disliked me, Azriel.”

His brows furrowed and his hand fell from your face. “Why would you ever think that?”

“Because,” you said. “You never spoke to me. You didn’t even look in my direction. And when you did speak to me, all you said was one word, nothing more.”

A sheepish smile appeared on his face. “Well, I was… shy around you. It wasn’t easy to talk to you, or to stare too long without making a fool of myself, so I tried to avoid both.”

You tried to take in his words, finding it very difficult to digest this new reality.

He had been in love with you… and you hadn’t even noticed.

“Y/N,” he spoke, seriousness lacing his words. “That ring,” he gestured with his chin, and you looked down at the golden band with a diamond on your finger. “I…”

“You what?”

“This is embarrassing,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “I bought that ring the very first day I met you.”

You were pinned in place, failing to even breathe or blink.

“What?” It seemed like the only word you knew.

“It’s both romantic and psychotic, I know,” he smiled.

You inhaled deeply, meeting his gaze. “You knew? You truly knew it was…”

“You?” he finished. “Yes.” 

You couldn’t help but smile at the sincerity in his words. Azriel pulled you gently into his arms as you let the warmth of him embrace you.

It was no more than a whisper, yet you heard him murmur against your temple, “From the very first moment, I knew, Y/N.”

You closed your eyes, finally accepting the fall.

-Charcaters by Sarah J Maas

azriel masterlist

a/n: what is this thing with your titles being a question, lidia? mmmm, 🤷‍♀️. anyway, hope you like this one, thanks for the request. and have a wonderfull 2025!!

[ka1rin]

With Strings Attached

Isagi Yoichi x Reader , 2.4k words , genre: smut

You and Isagi have been best friends for years, but your relationship has always been more like a couple's— cuddling, teasing, and sharing intimate moments. One night, while you're both curled up together, the lines between friendship and something more blur, leading to an unexpected twist in your relationship.

Isagi Yoichi didn’t know when his feelings for you shifted, but he knew they were no longer simple.

You were his best friend—his anchor. From the moment you walked into his life, you’d been by his side through every win and loss, every dream and doubt. But somewhere along the way, the lines blurred.

He noticed it in the little things. The way his heartbeat sped up when your fingers brushed against his. The way his mind replayed your laugh like a favorite song. The way he leaned into your hugs, hoping you wouldn’t pull away too soon.

Isagi wasn’t blind to how you two looked to others. He heard the teasing from his teammates, the whispers when you’d show up at his games and run to him first, arms wide open. They’d laugh and call him lucky, and he’d grin, pretending it didn’t get to him. But it did. Not because he minded their jokes—but because he wished he had the courage to admit that maybe they were right.

The cuddling, the hand-holding, the cheek kisses—those weren’t things best friends typically did, were they? But you never seemed to question it, so he didn’t either.

Isagi Yoichi didn’t know how he ended up like this—your back pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped loosely around your waist as the two of you lounged on the couch. You were focused on the movie playing on the screen, while Isagi couldn’t concentrate on anything except how close you were.

Your scent—something soft and familiar—filled his senses, making his thoughts scatter. He tried to calm himself, but his heart was racing. Every small movement you made, every shift of your weight against him, sent a jolt through him.

This was normal, he told himself. Best friends could cuddle like this, right? Except, nothing about this felt normal to him. It felt far too intimate, too perfect.

Then, out of nowhere, you turned.

The sudden movement caught Isagi off guard as you shifted to face him. Your arms slipped around his neck, pulling him into a hug. He froze. Completely. His body stiffened as if his brain had short-circuited.

You didn’t seem to notice. Your head rested against his shoulder, your breath warm against his neck. “This is nice,” you murmured, your voice soft and content.

Isagi felt like he was malfunctioning. His face burned, his hands hovered awkwardly in the air as he debated where to place them. Should he hug you back? Should he say something? His thoughts were spiraling, and he was acutely aware of how close your lips were to his cheek.

“Y-Yeah,” he managed to stutter, his voice embarrassingly shaky. He finally let his hands settle lightly on your back, but his muscles were still tense.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, your face mere inches from his. “Are you okay?” you asked, tilting your head in concern.

“Y-Yeah! Totally fine!” he blurted, his blush intensifying. He was lying through his teeth. His heart felt like it was about to explode, and he was certain you could hear it.

You blinked at him, studying his face for a moment, before a small smile tugged at your lips. “You’re blushing, Yoichi.”

“I—I’m not!” he protested, turning his face away, though he knew it was futile.

You chuckled softly, the sound sending butterflies through his chest. “You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”

Isagi thought he might actually die right there on the couch. His heart was pounding so hard he was sure it would give out. You, however, didn’t seem to realize the chaos you were causing inside him.

You leaned back into his chest, settling comfortably in his arms again, as if nothing had happened. Isagi let out a shaky breath, trying to calm himself.

Best friends, he reminded himself. Best friends.

But as he held you, feeling your warmth against him, he couldn’t help but wonder how much longer he could keep pretending that was all you were.

Isagi was absolutely losing it.

You had just turned around, wrapping your arms around his neck in an embrace that felt way too intimate for his already scattered thoughts. As if that wasn’t enough, you pressed yourself closer, resting your head against his chest. That small, innocent gesture sent his heart racing so fast it felt like it might break out of his chest.

And then… it happened.

He felt it—down there, shit he got hard. Heat rushed through his body, and he froze in sheer panic as he realized what was happening. The weight of you in his lap, the warmth of your body pressed so snugly against his—it was too much for him to handle.

Oh shit. This can’t be happening, he thought, his face going scarlet.

His hands hovered awkwardly for a moment before settling stiffly on your back, but that did nothing to help the situation. Every shift you made as you adjusted yourself only heightened his awareness of his… problem.

She’s going to feel it. Oh god, she’s going to feel it, his mind screamed.

You shifted again, completely unaware of the chaos you were causing, and Isagi’s breath hitched. He was as tense as a coiled spring, his entire body screaming at him to do something, anything, to make this less awkward.

“Yoichi?” you asked softly, pulling back slightly to look up at him. Your brows furrowed in concern. “You’re so stiff. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” he yelped, a little too loudly, his voice cracking embarrassingly.

You blinked at him, your concern deepening. “You don’t seem fine. Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”

He scrambled for an excuse, his mind racing. “It’s—uh—my leg! Yeah, my leg’s cramping from training earlier. That’s all!”

Your eyes widened, and you immediately tried to pull away. “Oh no! Do you need me to move? Should I get you water or something?”

“No!” he blurted, his hands instinctively tightening on your waist before he quickly loosened them. “I mean—no, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Just… stay.”

You tilted your head at him, clearly skeptical, but you eventually nodded and leaned back into him. “Alright… but tell me if it gets worse, okay?”

“Y-Yeah, sure,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible as his face burned.

As you settled against him again, Isagi tried to focus on anything else—the movie, the rain outside, literally anything. But all he could feel was you, pressed so perfectly against him, and the humiliating reminder of his very obvious reaction.

This is a nightmare, he thought, gritting his teeth. She’s definitely going to notice.

And yet, even through his panic, a tiny voice in the back of his mind whispered what he’d been trying to ignore for so long. That this wasn’t just a physical reaction—it was you. It was always you. You were the reason his heart raced, the reason his thoughts spiraled, the reason he wanted so much more than just being your best friend.

But right now? He’d settle for surviving this without you noticing his very inconvenient problem.

Isagi thought he was barely holding it together.

After your hug, you leaned back against him again, your body pressed close, warm, and perfectly relaxed, while he was anything but. His face was still burning, his heart pounding, and his problem wasn’t going away.

Just stay calm, he told himself, trying desperately to focus on the movie playing in front of you. But then, you shifted

It wasn’t intentional—you were just readjusting yourself to get comfortable—but as you did, your hips pressed firmly against his crotch. Specifically, against him.

Isagi froze. Completely. His breath caught in his throat as every nerve in his body went haywire.

Oh god. Oh no. She’s right there. She’s going to notice my fucking boner.

He wanted to move, to say something, to do anything to fix this, but it was impossible. His hands hovered awkwardly in the air for a moment before clenching into fists at his sides. He couldn’t risk touching you and making it worse.

You, blissfully unaware of the chaos you were causing, sighed contentedly and settled deeper into his arms, pressing yourself even closer. Isagi’s jaw tightened, his eyes wide and unfocused as he stared straight ahead at the TV, pretending to care about the movie.

But he didn’t hear a single word of it.

His entire focus was on you and the way your body was perfectly fitted against his, and the very obvious reaction he was failing miserably to suppress. He was sure you could feel it now—there was no way you couldn’t—and the thought made his face burn hotter than ever.

“Yoichi,” you mumbled, your voice soft and casual, “why are you so stiff? Relax a little.”

Relax? Relax? He almost laughed, but it came out as a choked noise instead.

“I’m—uh—just cold!” he lied, his voice embarrassingly shaky. “Yeah, cold. That’s all.”

You tilted your head slightly, looking at him out of the corner of your eye. “Cold? But it’s so warm in here. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Y-Yeah! Totally fine!” he blurted, his hands gripping the couch cushions to stop them from trembling.

You gave him a small, concerned smile before turning your attention back to the screen. But as you shifted again, pressing even closer to his crotch, Isagi let out a quiet, involuntary groan that he immediately tried to cover up with a cough.

She didn’t hear that. She didn’t notice. She didn’t notice, he chanted desperately in his head, though the heat in his face and the tension in his body were telling a very different story.

This was torture. Absolute torture. And the worst part? He wasn’t sure if he wanted it to stop.

You turned to face him, your eyes locking together in an unspoken moment. Without warning, Isagi couldn’t hold back any longer. He leaned in and kissed you softly, and you kissed him back, the connection feeling electrifying. This was the first time your lips had met, and though you two had shared countless intimate moments as friends, this kiss felt different—more significant, more vulnerable.

Isagi then deepened the kiss, his tongue gently brushing against yours.

It was the first time either of you had crossed that line, and it took you by surprise. For a moment, you hesitated, but then, unable to resist, you kissed him back with equal fervor.

The kiss grew more passionate, the connection between you both intensifying with each movement.

Isagi suddenly grabs your thighs, pulling you closer until you're flush against him. You can feel his obvious arousal pressing against your core through his pants. A soft, needy whimper escapes your lips as you instinctively grind against him, seeking more friction. “I-Isagi..”

You bit your lower lip as you slowly unbuckled Isagi's belt, his eyes locked onto yours with unspoken permission. As his boxers become the only barrier between you and his obvious arousal, you can see the massive bulge straining against the thin fabric.

You hesitantly pull down Isagi's boxers, revealing his throbbing, massive member. You wrap your small hand around it, stroking slowly as he whimpers and bucks his hips. Suddenly, he grabs your wrist, stopping your motion. Fuck... I need to be inside you.

Isagi swiftly lifts you up and pins you beneath him, flipping your skirt up in the process. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, tugging them aside to expose your glistening folds. Look how fucking wet you are for me already...

His fingers trail up and down your slit, gathering your wetness before circling your clit. You arch your back, desperate for more contact as he teases you. You're so ready for me, aren't you, baby? Look at how you're dripping...

He wraps his fingers around his thick, throbbing length and positions the plump, pinkish head at your slick, trembling opening. He rubs himself against you, teasing your entrance without pushing in, making you whimper and beg. "Please, please, please, yoichi put it in"

Unable to resist your desperate pleas any longer, Isagi surges forward, sinking his hard cock deep into your tight, welcoming heat in one powerful thrust. A low groan tears from his throat at the exquisite sensation of your walls clutching him. “Fuuuck yes, take my cock”

He begins to piston his hips, driving his massive length in and out of your soaked pussy with brutal intensity. Your moans echo through the room as he fucks you relentlessly, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the air. “Ahhh fuck, you’re so tight.”

He hooks his arms under your thighs and lifts your legs over his shoulders, changing the angle and allowing him to plunge even deeper inside you. He pounds into you mercilessly, hitting spots inside you that make you scream and writhe beneath him. “Yo-ichi feels so good! M’so close ichi” you say.

His breathing grows heavier, his movements becoming slightly more frantic "Fuck, I'm close too... You feel so good, baby." He leans in, pressing gentle kisses along your neck and collarbone, a stark contrast to his rough thrusts "Cum with me, okay?"

He buries his face in your neck, his moans and heavy breaths warming your skin. His thrusts become more erratic, his grip on your waist tightening as he nears the edge. "Fuck, I can't hold back... Come on, baby, squeeze me just like that..."

You let out a breathy cry "Ichi, I'm gonna—" Your body convulses around him, your inner walls clutching desperately at his cock as you climax. The sensation of your orgasm pushes him over the edge "Fuck, baby—"

He throws his head back, his body stiffening as he finds his release, pulsing hot and thick inside you. He stays like that for a moment, their bodies entwined and breathing heavily, before slowly collapsing on top of you, his face buried in your neck. "Damn..."

He lies there for a while, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he tries to catch his breath. Slowly, he lifts his head to look at you, his eyes soft and satisfied. "You okay, baby?" He asks, brushing a strand of hair out of your face gently.

Isagi rolls off of you, pulling you close to his sweat-slicked chest. He chuckles softly, his voice warm and tinged with affection. "I guess that confession was more...physical than I intended. But hey, actions speak louder than words, right?"

[strwberri-milk]

Maybe this is a bit angsty but could I request the LADS men’s (or just Sylus’s) reaction when reader randomly, casually says in a conversation, ‘Well you’re probably not gonna stick around with me in the future anyway’ (so in short, they think they’re temporary).

Zayne's attention snaps to you so quickly you would have thought you told him you're experiencing a cardiac event. He takes a second to process the words, brows furrowing as he asks you why you'd say something like that. His reaction is so visceral you can't help but laugh awkwardly, asking him what he means by that. The confusion tinged with something unreadable and sad hurts his heart, wondering if he hasn't made it clear enough that he's madly in love with you and only you.

He falls silent, pondering your words and his own actions. Has he not been affectionate enough with you? Has he not been obvious enough about how in love he is with you? You start to squirm, usually used to his thoughtful pauses but the tension rising in the air has you suffocating.

Eventually he tells you that you're going to be stuck with him for quite a while because he doesn't intend on giving you up that easily. He cups your face in his hands, telling you that you're the most precious thing to him in the world and he's going to love you until his dying breath, then past that. The confession is quite intense especially since he just looks very intense for the most part so it steals your breath away before Zayne pushes air right back into your lungs with a desperate kiss.

Xavier immediately tells you off, raising a brow as he asks why you think he wouldn't be there in the future. He's spent so many years yearning for your warmth - it seems blasphemous to him not to stay with you until the universe tears you apart and then some. You see the hurt in his eyes immediately, trying to backtrack as he asks you if you really thought he'd leave.

He takes your hands in his gently, taking a palm to cup his cheek as he nuzzles into your warmth, looking up at you with those baby blues that seem to tempt you to fall into them as he repeats the question. Your words are dry in your throat as you look away, his hand coming up to tilt your face back to look at him.

He swears his life to you again, peppering your hand in kisses as he speaks. If you had any doubts about his feelings for you before there's no way you can now, not with the way his voice settles around you. He solidifies his feelings for you, devoting his entire being to you in the quiet space between the two of you.

Rafayel is totally unamused, brushing your comment off as a joke. He fully thinks you're just trying to get under his skin, teasing him because that's the sort of relationship that the two of you have. When you don't respond with your usual enthusiasm he looks at you with a scrutinizing gaze. His lips press together as he starts to realise that you were serious, rolling his eyes as he pulls you against his chest.

He's shaking, thinly veiled anger running through his veins. He isn't really mad at you, but it would be wrong to say that he isn't at the same time. He doesn't understand why you'd think something like that, under the belief that he's made it very clear that he's in love with you and only you. I mean, have you seen him in a room with other people when they aren't you?

His words are soft in your ear, the quietest hint of a threat in them as he asks if you're serious. Nothing about this was temporary, about his feelings for you were fading. They never did and they never could, not even if he fell to his knees and begged for someone to take them from him. He's built on the anger of a dead civilsation and the inability to do anything but love you, telling you that even if you try to leave him he'll just wait until you're ready for him again.

Sylus doesn't even stop what he's doing, chuckling softly at the notion. He thinks you're joking, unable to fathom that you're fully serious in thinking that he won't be sticking around. You feel a little upset at how easily he brushes you off, deciding that you're done for the day as you fall silent. He notices that right away, looking up at you and beckoning for you to crawl into his lap. If you refuse to he'll simply come over and pull you into his lap without question, telling you to repeat yourself.

You repeat the statement, now more unsure of yourself since he's staring at you intently. You can see the slight quirk of his lips, his smirk making your heart beat a little faster as you tell him that whatever the two of you have isn't serious. He laughs at the notion, shaking his head as he cups your face in his hands. He takes in every detail of your face, sighing softly as he buries his face into your neck, peppering kisses as he shakes his head.

He doesn't know what to say, the words all caught in his throat as he holds you. You don't need him to say anything though, the desperate way he clings to your body and his lips muttering the beginnings of words just to abandon them convincing you more with every passing second that he's going to love you until the end of time.

[westside-rot]

Talk To Me Nice

Pairing: Terry Richmond X Black reader

No warnings for this one. Hopefully there aren't too many errors cuz it's only lightly edited. I'm trying to squeeze in my last post of the year lol

This little idea is the result of a writing prompt and @megamindsecretlair keeping me honest about writing something every day. Figured I'd share the results with whoever else wants to check it out.

“That’s a bit harsh my love…”

After spending the last 20 minutes filling your home with negative energy you expected reciprocation.  Instead you were being derailed with a new form of gaslighting, the kind reserved for evolved men who appeared harmless on the surface but harbored a petty side few got to see. Though impressive, you knew Terry was only using kind words to paint himself the victim. It didn’t matter how many steps ahead you thought you were. The guilt still hit with the same bruising force.

Six months of newlywed bliss cruelly interrupted by disappointment you never wanted to feel so early into your marriage. Perhaps there was a better way to convey that hurt to your husband. Maybe sitting him down for a mature conversation would’ve spared you from the growing pressure around your temples and the rawness in your throat from all the yelling you’d been doing. You were convinced the window for apologies and grand romantic gestures had closed. He'd started it. You were damn sure going to finish it.

You pushed through your doubts and committed to your frustrations with arms folded tightly across your chest, the initial urge to roll your eyes shifting to a hard, resolute stare. “Well Terrence sometimes harsh is necessary.”

He scratched his beard and nodded as though you’d just agreed on what to have for dinner. Silence took over the room once again, intensifying the conflict between you. His eyes never broke contact.

“Are you done?” From anyone else the question would’ve triggered your inner toxic and possibly resulted in the police being called. But there was note of calmness in your husband’s voice that exonerated him from the accusation before it became your new truth. Terry wasn’t being dismissive. He was simply better at regulating his emotions.  His inability to stop wringing his hands together revealed the stress hidden within. For a second time you were forced to ignore your guilt for the sake of winning. Mirroring his casual demeanor, you continued to stand firm and prepared for whatever he intended to say next.

“I must’ve imagined sitting in premarital counseling for all those weeks. Or maybe I was the only one taking it seriously. That must be it 'cause at the first sign of a problem you’ve broken every promise we made to each other.” His words landed direct hits on your conscience. Everything holding you together began to cave under the weight of his response. Terry wasn’t wrong. Instinctively, you went into defense mode anyway.  

“That’s not fai—”

“Nah, you’re not about to interrupt me. I let you speak. You’ll show me the same respect. Understand?” The natural base in his voice instantly got your attention. Yes sir rang so clearly in your mind you weren’t entirely convinced you hadn’t said it out loud. You prayed Terry couldn’t somehow feel the lust pulsing alongside everything else flooding your system. One day soon under normal circumstances you were going to explore his newfound aggressive side. How, you weren’t entirely sure. With a new goal seared into your brain and soaked through panties clinging to your ass you managed to retain a sense of dignity as you obeyed your husband’s command. 

“You’re my wife. One day you’ll be the mother of our children. I refuse to let them hear us talking crazy to each other, so I’m gonna need you to find a better way to communicate your feelings. If I need to sign us back up for therapy I will but this shit ends tonight.”

All the fight drained from your body. Shame took its place. In its presence you were finally able to recall those important conversations leading up to your wedding, the dreams you shared, the legacy you wanted to create. If not for your anger you could have revisited them sooner and found a better use for them. Now you were facing an evening apart, perhaps more depending on how long Terry held on to a grudge.

All you could do was stare at the ground and wait for it to be over with. Hopefully you’d find a way to sleep knowing you had failed your first test as a wife. When your lip started to quiver you promptly bit down on it to keep your hurt feelings in check.  You hadn’t behaved in a way deserving of care but when Terry's long fingers reached out to palm the side of your face you sought out his warmth like a needy kitten.

“Now you’re breaking my heart.”

“I can’t help it. Did you have to be so mean?” Though you found your ability to speak you burrowed your pout lips further into his hand. The loudest person in the room didn’t deserve to cry. If you were lucky you'd disappear and rematerialize tomorrow with more sense.

“It got your attention. Besides, I thought harsh was necessary. Or does that only apply when you’re cursing me out?” He chuckled.  You weren’t persuaded by the playfulness in his voice to look up. Terry initiated the gesture with fingers affectionately placed beneath your chin. It wasn’t lost on you that he'd repositioned your face at the same proud angle you held while lecturing him as if two nights apart somehow equated to years of neglect. You wanted to look away but soon discovered his eyes remained steadfast and beautiful in the aftermath of the storm you’d caused. They connected with your soul in an instant providing a gentle assurance that you were safe with him.

 The words flowed through your upturned lips effortlessly. “I’m sorry baby. You didn’t deserve all those ugly things I said to you.” Before you could say more he captured your face in both hands, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“You’re already forgiven my love.” Terry’s lips grazed yours as he spoke. The distance was torture. Finally, after what felt like an unbearably long time, he covered your mouth with his, reestablishing his dominance with a tenderness that sets your heart and mind at ease.  It was a proper reconciliation, but it also wasn’t enough. Not after the way you behaved tonight.

You treated the sincerity on his lips as your own personal buffet. When it became difficult to breathe you pulled away to regain control over the situation.  “I still have a lot to make up for.”

A smile tugged at his lips as he pushed the curls back from your face. “We both do. Your approach needs some work, but you had a right to be upset with me.” You nodded and yet nothing in you wanted to celebrate the vindication. You were simply relieved to know you hadn’t caused any irrevocable damage by overreacting. Even more relieved to see him smiling again.  "I think my beautiful and extremely childish wife should get the honor of going first.”

The frown you attempted to hold cracked under the pressure of his wide grin. You hate being teased. You were also guilty on all counts and willing to take your punishment. “I suppose that’s fair.”

“It’s very fair.” He mumbled between prolonged kisses down your neck.

You exhaled and curved your fingers over his broad shoulders. It was becoming harder to think or even breathe with him sucking everywhere his lips could reach. “Can we talk it out like grown-ups tomorrow?”

“Of course, baby. It's mandatory from now on.” When he spoke the guttural quality possessing his voice registered deep in the places he’s yet to touch. You felt painfully empty but knew you wouldn’t stay that way for long. At the rate his lips were moving you weren’t convinced you'd make it past the couch. You preferred the comfort of your king-sized bed the scene of your crime was a fitting place for getting down on your knees to make proper use of your mouth.

Terry surprised you when he broke the suction on your collarbone to reunite at eye level. There was a noticeable glint of mischief in his eyes before he bent down to throw you over his shoulder. You squealed and braced a hand at the center of his back for support you really didn't need.

"You better not drop me trying to be cute!"

"I was planning on letting you off easy tonight. Now I'm thinking your apology needs to be as loud as all that shit you've been talking."

"Yes daddy. Remind me what all these big strong muscles are really for. Also, please send help!"

With a single act you reclaim the home you’ve built, your gasps and combined laughter echoing along the walls as he carried you upstairs.

[loveharlow]

SEVEN [POGUELANDIA] - FEVER DREAM

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[3.7k] It's been a week since you and your friends were dropped into the middle of nowhere. But the self-proclaimed 'Poguelandia' has served as a break for you all from the drama and chaos back home, but it may also present chances for growth and changes, good and bad...

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, kie x reader drama (again), omission, mentions of self-doubt, allusions to suicidal thoughts (if you squint), mentions of injuries

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ I think I finally found my motivation again so here's chapter 1/3 of Poguelandie before we get into season 3 of SVN, also, taglist ppl, ik it's been acting funky for a minute so I'll see if it works better in the comments, also new taglist people, please use the taglist form in my pinned post to be added, it makes it a lot easier to keep track of new people who want to be added so i don't have to go through my replies and mentions and blah blah blah

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

THE SALTY OCEAN BREEZE WHIPPED THROUGH YOUR HAIR AS YOU SURVEYED THE VAST EXPANSE OF THE DESERTED ISLAND, Poguelandia as you’d all claimed it. 

It’d been a week since you and your friends washed up on the shore of the unclaimed piece of land — carving your symbol into a tree and crafting a flag that swayed in the wind. Sure, a chicken in a coconut bra, smoking a J in Crocs wasn’t the most intimidating “stay off of our land” flag but it was something.

You were planted in the sand, next to your dwindling bonfire, watching your friends surf in the water using the poorly constructed boards the guys had made — unreliable pieces of driftwood and lots of twine apparently made an oddly useful flotation device.

Unfortunately, you weren’t able to join in on the festivities. Your personal island nurse, Cleo, basically forbade you from entering the water, claiming the salt water would only soften the scar tissue she’d burned into your leg with a heated knife she’d held over a raging bonfire. The smell of burning flesh and the pain of the scorching metal against your thigh only served as a distant nightmare, making you cringe at the memory. 

“Hey,” A voice appeared next to you, looking up to find Kiara’s bikini clad frame looking down at you, brown curls dripping with sea water. “How’re you doing?” Over the last week, you two had found some common ground. You didn’t expect things to be normal right away, or possibly ever again. But you were glad you could still talk to her. “Need some company?”

You shrugged, a longing smile on your face as you glanced at the rest of your peers fooling around in the water before turning back to her. “I’m doin’ okay, but feel free to join me. …Or did my nurse send you over here to make sure I don’t sneak into the water?” You asked, playfully squinting your eyes as Kie took a seat next to you, digging her feet into the sand.

The girl laughed lightly, head dipping down as the lowering sun illuminated the highlights in her hair while casting an orange hue over the deserted island. “No Nurse Cleo supervision here. Promise.” But the humor in her words didn’t seem genuine, almost like she had something to say. As if something else was on the tip of her tongue. “...How do you feel about her, by the way?” Kiara asked quietly, avoiding your eyes as she played with the grains of sand — letting the materials slip through her fingers.

“Who? Cleo?” You asked, a lopsided smile on your face.

“Yeah, like…do you trust her?” Kie asked, finally meeting your eyes. “Do you think she even really trusts us? I mean, she said it herself — we’re just her better option.”

You simply shrugged, making a face of uncertainty. “I don’t know…I don’t think she meant it like that.” You defended the girl. “I wouldn’t say I fully trust her just yet, but I do think she’s genuinely on our side.” You told your friend, watching as she drew her lips into a thin line, nodding almost as if she expected your answer but still wasn’t satisfied with it.

“...And you don’t find it weird that she just decided to up and run off with six strangers?” Kiara prodded, tone growing increasingly more confused, bordering annoyance. “And then saying she wants a cut of the gold? Like, come on...”

You couldn’t help but chuckle out of mild disbelief. “You don’t find half of the things we’ve done weird? Running from the cops even though we’re innocent? And, like, one-hundred other things that don’t make sense?” You countered, shaking your head. “And her wanting a cut of the gold isn’t crazy, in my opinion.” You shrugged, leaning back on your arms, fiddling with a leaf between your fingers. “I mean, she saved half of our lives. And she’s the main reason we made it off that ship. Without her help, who knows what could’ve happened…”

“I think you’re giving her too much credit.” Kie scoffed, standing from her spot and brushing herself off. You couldn’t help but make a face of offense at words, hearing the clear disagreement and disdain in her tone.

“...I’d probably be dead without her, Kie.” You spoke slowly, eyeing the girl as she paced smally on her feet, rolling her eyes as you continued speaking. “If anything, she deserves more credit than we’ve given her.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that we can’t trust everyone just because they help us. And I think being on this island is making everyone forget the fact that she could still be a threat to us-”

“But she isn’t. She’s stuck here, too-”

“She chose to be.”

“Exactly.” You quipped, tone short. “She chose to come with us and be stranded here. We all did.” You put it simply. “Look, I know we should be weary of who we let around us, but you’re not even giving her a chance.”

At your words, Kiara fell silent, running a tense hand through her mess of wet curls. “None of you get it.” She sighed under her breath, shaking her head side to side. “When she screws us over, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Was the last thing she offered in response to you before walking off into the trees, disappearing. 

You simply shook your head — what could Cleo have done for Kie of all people to have such a disdain for her? Distrust was one thing and that was reasonable. But it was clear that the island girl put a sour taste in Kiara’s mouth. Just days ago, Kiara brought up how much you’d been hanging out with the girl in question, making a joke about being replaced. But maybe there wasn’t as much humor there as you’d initially thought…

“Hey, where’d you go?” Kiara asked, looking up at you from where she was digging holes near the shore, looking for turtle hatches.

“Banana Leaf hunting. Cleo says they're good for healing and she was gonna try to make a bandage for my leg.” You replied, shielding your eyes from the sun as you limped closer to her.

“Well, when you find one, make sure it’s big enough for both of you.”

“...What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing. I just figured it’d be easier if it was bigger considering you and her are like attached at the hip now.” She muttered, side-eyeing you with a slight smile that let you know her words were lighthearted.

“Oh, whatever. Don’t be like that. I just don’t want her to feel like an outcast.” You scoffed with a playful smile.

“Yeah, yeah. Just know you can’t replace me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

…Did Kiara feel that Cleo was a threat to the group…or to her? Caution or jealousy? And if it was the latter, was it platonic or something deeper? You guessed that would always be the question now…

“CAN YOU FEEL IT NOW?” JJ asked for the fifth time as his index and middle finger pressed into the skin below your knee — wide, blue eyes boring into your own. The boy was still slightly damp from surfing as the two of you sat under the shade of a palm tree — your other five friends some feet away, laughing around a bonfire as the sun finally set.

“Yes, I can feel it, JJ.” You reassured the boy once more, rolling your eyes in playful annoyance. “I’m not going to lose my leg, you know.”

“Cleo said to make sure that your leg isn’t cold or discolored and to make sure you still had feeling. I’m just following the doctor’s orders.” He told you, continuing to press his fingers up the length of your leg. “Especially when the doctor has a machete and an attitude problem…” He muttered.

At this, you sighed, throwing your head back. “Ughhh. You too?” You asked, cocking an eyebrow as JJ made a face of confusion —sitting up straighter. 

“What do you mean “me too”?”

“Why is everyone giving her such a hard time?” You asked, tilting your head.

“Who? Cleo?” JJ inquired, sitting down across from you and dusting the sand off of his hands.

“Yes.” You answered. “I mean, she saved our asses when she didn’t have to. And she hasn’t given us any reason to not at least try to trust her. We’ve been stranded for a week. If she had some trick up her sleeve, I’m sure she would’ve used it by now. We don’t really know her and she doesn’t really know us. She’s not as rude as she may come off once you get to know her. But you guys won’t talk to her.” You defended.

“...Well, I was just joking, Princess. Cleo’s good in my book, she even taught me some knife tricks.” JJ chuckled, surprised at how you jumped to the girl’s defense. “And I’m not sure what you mean.” He continued, face contorting in confusion. “John B and Sarah seem pretty cool with her and I’m pretty sure Pope has a thing for her, even if he doesn’t know it. And Kie… hasn’t said much to her, I don’t think.” He pondered, seeming to connect the dots. “Did Kie say somethin’? Is that it?”

“I don’t know…” You started, twiddling with your fingers. “She’s suspicious of her, I guess. She thinks Cleo’s only with us because we’re her best bet and because she’s still holding out on the hope that we’ll get the gold and she basically thinks we’re all being blind to the possibility of Cleo being a threat. And she came at me so… aggressive about it. It was weird…”

“...Are you sure Kie doesn’t have another issue with you?” JJ asked, squinting his eyes from the emerging moonlight as he looked at you. “I know girl drama is usually lowkey.”

You met his eyes as his words registered in your mind. It was at this moment that you realized JJ still had no idea of the real reason for the crumbling of your life-long friendship with Kiara. Or rather the reason for it. And you were questioning whether to speak now or forever hold your peace…

“I noticed you guys kind of seemed off for a while. But I figured it was just something small.” 

“Uh, yeah…” You trailed off, avoiding your boyfriend’s eyes. “Something like that.” You shrugged, jutting your bottom lip out.

“I’m sure you guys will work it out.” He shrugged mindlessly, rubbing a hand up and down your calf. “You always do.”

“...I don’t know, I think it’s a bit different this time…” You said solemnly. It was the first real wave of emotions that you’d felt about the situation. Kiara was in love with you. And your friendship with her would never be the same. It was a strange, unwelcomed thought. Kiara was like a sister to you. To experience the fall of your relationship with her had a particularly rough sting to it. 

“What makes you say that?” JJ asked, pinching his eyebrows together. You didn’t respond immediately, eyes flicking up to his then back down to where they were focused on his fingers rubbing circles into your leg. “Hey,” JJ called to gain your attention, your eyes finally locking with his own. “You can talk to me. You know that, right?”

You shook your head with vigor, pinching your lips together before speaking. “No, no, I can’t. Not this time.”

“Baby-”

“JJ, I can’t.” You said exhaustedly. You wanted to tell him so bad, to get the weight and confusion off of your shoulders. But it wasn’t your place. “It’s Kie’s business. It’s not my place-”

“It is.” He tried, clearly growing frustrated. “Whatever happened is clearly affecting you both. That makes it your place and I’m sure Kie will get over you telling me-”

“It’s not that simple.” You snapped, expression softening when you realized how aggressively low your tone had dropped. Sighing, you continued. “I’m sorry, okay? But it really isn’t that easy, J. It’s really…weird and complicated and-” You stopped your ranting when JJ leaned forward, moving the hand that was on your leg to cradle your cheek.

“It’s okay.” He assured you, offering a light smile before pecking you softly on the lips --- the taste of sea salt lingering faintly. “I don’t want to make things worse between you two, okay? I get it.” He told you, but you could see that he was still, if not more, curious about it now. You realized you may have put yourself into a tighter space than you were sitting in before. Which would only make it harder to get out of. 

NIGHT HAD COMPLETELY FALLEN BY NOW. It was so weird how the days seemed to go by much faster. It was like there was never enough time in the day now to do anything. Where it seemed like the sun never went down when you were being shot at, chased, and kidnapped — it seemed like there was nothing but the moon and stars now.

The boys were starting another fire, since yours had gone out, while you and the other girls lounged around — watching them twirl sticks and blow into the smoke. Eventually, John B sighed, side-eyeing the four of you. “Since none of you want to help, can you at least go and find more firewood? Or something to eat? These fish are only gonna last us tonight.”

“The sun’s gone down.” Sarah quipped, a quizzical brow raised. “Can’t exactly fish in the dark.”

“No, but you can hunt.” JJ retorted, shooting the girl a grimace from his place in front of the growing fire.

“Do we look like hunters to you?” Cleo shot back, twirling her knife around her fingers. “Plus, I thought we agreed the woods were off limits. Tigers, bears, and all that?”

“And there’s no reason to go right now.” You added, adjusting your legs where you were sitting in the sand to be more comfortable. “We have tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that…”

“Normally, I’d agree.” Pope sighed, looking up at the sky where the clouds that did still remain, there but faint, loomed. “But I’m eighty-percent sure there’s a storm coming. All the birds and whatever else will eat all the plants and fruits and they’ll be less fish because of the falling tide. And who knows how long it’s going to last…”

“...Do you guys think we should start looking for ways to call for help?” Kie offered meekly. "It's been a week and I don't think anyone's looking for us..."

“And how would we do that?” JJ asked.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged, sitting up straighter. “This can’t be all there is to this island. There has to be something — a house, an abandoned shack — anything. But…we can’t stay here forever.”

“It’s only been a week, Kie.” JJ dismissed, tending to the fire. He didn’t seem to be fond of the topic of conversation, almost avoidant of it. “I’m sure someone will come soon enough for you.”

“...Why are you acting like that?” She asked, an expression of offense on her face.

“Like what?” He sighed, finally looking at the girl.

“Like you don’t want to leave.”

...A silence fell over the group, looks exchanged between one another as JJ stared tensely at the fire, jaw clenched. It was an unspoken topic among you all — whether you were going to be rescued at some point. Whether you wanted to be. Some people had been taking more kindly to the newfound freedom of island life — you, JJ, Cleo…

The others…it seemed like they couldn’t wait until someone came to swoop you all up. It was reasonable, you understood. But going to Kildare would be like getting thrown back to hell after getting a backstage pass to heaven.

“Why don’t we go see if the trees have started producin’ again? Hm?” Cleo broke the ice, standing up and looking at you, Kiara, and Sarah. “Pope’s right. If a storm’s comin’, best to stock up. A little wander in the dark neva hurt nobody. Come on.” She urged, outstretching a hand to you to help you up that you went to take.

“Hey, no,” JJ protested, eyes fleeting between you and Cleo. “Your leg-”

“I’m fine, J.” You dismissed, using Cleo’s assistance to stand up, mindful to keep your leg off the ground. “I can’t just sit around until someone shows up to save us.”

“I know, it’s just-” He struggled to find words. “Can’t you wait until you’ve healed?” He asked, eyes pleading.

“JJ,” You started, leaning on Cleo for support to keep yourself up. “I don’t think that’s gonna happen out here. We don’t have any first aid or medical supplies. The best thing I can do is let my body try and heal itself. And the best way to do that is to stop laying around like a starfish.” You explained the words Cleo had given you when she patched you up on the first day. “And I’ll have Cleo with me.” You smiled at the girl.

JJ’s blue eyes went between you and the dark-skinned girl, sighing in defeat. “Alright, fine. But take this with you.” He demanded, tossing his Swiss Army knife in your direction, you managing to catch it with one hand.

“We’ll be back.” You smiled, turning to walk away with your girls. “Fire up the grill for us, boys!” You shouted over your shoulder.

“THAT BOY REALLY CARES ABOUT YOU, Y’KNOW?” Cleo spoke, holding a branch out of your way to duck under, guiding you with a hand on your back. The four of you had split in half — Kie and Sarah taking one side of the forest while you and Cleo foraged the other.

“Yeah, I know.” You acknowledged, getting further into the trees. “I just wish everyone would stop treating me like I’m…broken, or something.” 

“Well, your leg is pretty banged up, girl-”

“No, I know.” You cut her off. “But…it’s not just that.” You sighed, stopping in front of a bush to pluck off the berries, handing them to Cleo for her to put into the basket she made of twine and sticks. “...Some stuff happened back at home and I think they’ve been trying to be subtle about it, but I can see the way everyone keeps me in the corner of their eyes. I can feel it. It’s like they’re tip toeing on eggshells but they’re still cracking underneath their shoes. And they have their reasons to be worried, I know that and I appreciate it. But I feel like they’re always helping me or saving me. I don’t wanna be the weak link.” You explained, brows furrowed as you threw the last of the berries into the basket, limping further into the mess of trees with Cleo following closely behind. “I hate feeling like I can’t help myself. And my leg isn’t exactly helping the problem…”

“Weakness is deception.” Cleo said, matter of factly. “I learned that from a close friend.” She told you, looking at you briefly. “It’s usually hidin’ a strength you haven’t discovered yet.” She said simply, stopping in front of the fruit tree as she handed the basket to you and began to climb.

“Well, how am I supposed to find this ‘strength’?” You asked, eyeing the girl as she climbed the bark effortlessly.

“You learn to overcome the weakness.” She said, snatching one of ripe fruits off the vine. “Everybody is weak. It’s just that some are stronger than others. When you’re stronger than everyone around you, of course you’re not going to look weak — brighter lights cast deeper shadows. But the truth is, everyone is a weak link in some way. Strength isn’t about never fallin’, it’s about gettin’ back up every time you do.”

“But what if I don’t know how to do that?” You asked, brows furrowed as you got lost in your thoughts, watching as Cleo dropped the fruit into the basket from the top of the tree. “What if all I know how to do when I fall…is keep falling?” 

“...Why would you do that?” She asked, voice softer than you'd ever heard it.

“...Because it’s easier than getting back up just to fall again.” 

“But you can’t fall forever.” Cleo asserted. “You’ll hit rock bottom eventually. And when you hit rock bottom, there’s nothin'. And you can’t live with nothin', so you have to make your way back to the top eventually. You can never let yourself fall that far.” She spoke, climbing down from the tree. “It’s easier to swim to the surface from five–feet down than it is from fifty.” You pondered on her words, finding a good amount of wisdom in them. The girl stopped in front of you, taking the basket off of your hands. “And you’re lucky.” She added after a moment's pause. “You have a good group of people to help you up. Don’t see their help as weakness. Them people out there are your family. I don’t have that.” 

“They could be that for you.” You told Cleo as the two of you began walking back the way you came, using the moonlight for guidance. "We could be that for you."

“Nah.” She shook her head, eyes looking at her feet. “They don’t trust me.”

“Not yet.” You emphasized. “We don’t trust people easily. You can probably imagine why…” You trailed off, Cleo nodding in response. “But they’re actually taking to you pretty well. Most of them, anyway.” You mentally rolled your eyes, remembering you and Kiara’s previous conversation. “Like Pope?” You continued, moving branches and leaves out of the way. “He’s usually the first to be skeptical. But he seems open to you.”

“Hm...” She hummed under her breath — her lack of response prompting you to look at the girl, the moonlight illuminating the faint redness of her cheeks. You couldn’t help but gasp.

“Oh my God, do you like Pope?” You nearly shouted to which Cleo vehemently shushed you, looking around herself.

“Shut up, loud mouth!” She whisper-shouted lightheartedly. “...And no, I don’t. Boys are stupid. And useless.” She said, although you didn’t believe her. 

“Uh-huh…” You said, squinting your eyes with a sly smile. “...Well, he’s on the market, just FYI.”

“Ughhh.” Cleo groaned, throwing her head back and walking far ahead. “Shut up!”

“I’m just saying!” You shouted behind her, attempting to catch up.

“That’s ya problem!” She called over her shoulder. “Less talkin’, more walkin’, slowpoke!”

“Hey! I can’t help it!” You argued, still trying your best to catch back up to the girl. “JJ will kill you if you abandon me out here!” You joked to which you were met with a playful scoff that reverberated through the trees.

“I’ll put ya lanky, blonde boyfriend on his behind before he can shout for help!” She quipped, a smile thrown over her shoulder. “Come on!”

next chapter >

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

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©loveharlow.

[lucentloo]

Broken Vases and Hot Chocolate

Summary: A broken vase makes you believe the brief paradise you gained at the Potters will be shattered but James helps you realize that you won't get hurt again.

James Potter x fem!reader

Wc: 1070

Content Warning: Fem!reader, Black!reader, reader is Sirius' sister, flinching, past abuse, Mrs. Potter to the rescue with her emergency hot chocolate!, Comfort, James and reader are in a relationship.

A/N: Hello guys! I am posting one fic after the other and there might be more bc I've got a lot of free time but I wouldn't expect this for the future unfortunately. I hope you're enjoying the New Year and I hope you enjoy my fifth fic on this blog! Have a good rest of your day/night and make sure to have some water!

You knew deep down that this was a mistake; your instincts screamed at you that you shouldn’t have followed Sirius when he begged you to come along. The intensity in his gaze, the way his heart ached for you to join him—along with Regulus—made it impossible to say no. With a heavy heart, you left your little brother in the care of those who had inflicted pain upon you and stepped into the unknown alongside Sirius at the Potters’ house.

Sirius was relentless in his reassurances, insisting that the Potters were kind and that you had no reason to fear them. He spoke with such conviction, claiming they would never raise a finger against you, but as the shards of glass glistened ominously at your feet, doubt clouded your mind.

You had been playing a spirited game of pass with James, the vibrant quaffle soaring back and forth between you, laughter escaping your lips like music on the warm afternoon breeze. But in an unfortunate moment, the ball slipped through your fingers, crashing into one of Mrs. Potter’s beautiful vases. The sound was deafening, a shatter so loud it seemed to echo through the air, alerting not only James but likely every neighbor on the block. In that instant, the blissful atmosphere transformed into one of panic, leaving you with the weight of uncertainty and dread.

James muttered a string of curses under his breath, his frustration palpable in the air. You flinched at the disturbance it caused, instinctively dropping to your knees to swiftly clean up the mess sprawled across the floor. The cool surface pressed against your skin as you worked, your heart racing. Sirius had mentioned that the Potters were generally more forgiving than others, so perhaps if you hurried, you could erase the evidence of your mistake before they noticed. You hoped that your diligence would spare you from their displeasure.

“Woah! Hey, what are you doing?” James asks as he watches the glass dig into your knees as you clean it up with uncovered hands.

“I’m cleaning,” you responded in what you hoped was a collected voice but knew that there were some cracks in there.

James quickly put on his deer slippers Sirius gave him for Christmas and stepped over the glass to stop your hands. “Sweet thing, you don’t have to do that, it was my fault the throw was too hard, come on.” He says gently as he brushes off the few small flakes of glass off your palm.

‘But I didn’t catch it. If you just let me clean it up then there would be less trouble and-”

You were cut off by James who put his on your waist and hoisted you up like you weighed nothing. He carried you over to the couch and set you down gently. “There is no trouble, just a knocked-down vase. Sure I might get in trouble with my mom but it was a vase given to her by my grandma, and honestly? My mom's been complaining about it for years.”

The only thing you managed to get from that was the fact that James might get in trouble with his mom. You thought Sirius said that the Potters weren’t as bad as your guys’ parents.

When James went to leave you grabbed his hands tight. Anxiety courses through you as the image of Hogwarts golden boy getting hurt flashes through your mind. That’s not right, he’s too good to be hurt like that. “Tell them it was me, that it was my fault.” Your words are desperate and pleading and James’ eyebrows furrow in concern when he starts to realize what this is all about.

“It’s fine, it was my fault and I’m fine with taking the blame.”

“But I don’t want you to get-”

“Nobody’s gonna get hurt,” James says with conviction. He raises his hand and slowly places it on your cheek. When he wipes away your tears you finally realize how much you were crying and shaking. You sniffle and try to hide your face in embarrassment but James wouldn’t let you.

“No matter what happens here, what you or anybody else does, no one will get hurt. I promise.” He says the last two words a bit softer as his hand travels from your cheek to the back of your neck so he can move your head to his chest.

You let him as you slump against him. You start crying even more and he doesn’t move or give any indication of how uncomfortable he is while crouching. “That’s it, just let it out. No one’s gonna hurt you anymore.”

You hear the door open and hear the silence that follows. You try to move out of James' hold, and he lets you, but he keeps his hand on your back while he looks at his parents. Sirius gives you a concerned look but you look down in your lap.

“What happened, dear?” You look up as Mrs. Potter comes over to the two of you. You choke up before you answer and look over to the corner of the living room instead. When she follows your line of sight she relaxes and sighs. “Oh James, again?”

You look over to James who has now moved to help his dad and Sirius with the groceries. He wears a shit-eating grin as he shrugs. “That boy.” Mrs. Potter says and to your surprise laughs while shaking her head. With a single wave of her wand, the mess is cleared and your injuries are healed as she places her hand on your back as she stands up.

You both make your way to the kitchen. “Do you like hot chocolate? I say it’s a must in the holidays.” With that, your usual smile comes back and you nod. You make your way to where James and Sirius are talking by the counter.

“Thank you, James, for dealing with my mini freak out.” You say quietly as Sirius pulls you into his side.

James just smiles fondly. “How many times have I told you, sweetheart, it’s not dealing with you, it’s loving you. Two different things.” He kisses your head and squeezes your hand before going to help his mom with the hot chocolate.

“I still think it’s disgusting that he’s dating you.”

You laugh and nudge Sirius's side. “Sirius!”

He shrugs his shoulders and holds you closer. “Just saying.”

You smile warmly and lean in more, knowing you could use a few minutes of just hugging.

[drewstarkeysring]

She did what?- Drew Starkey

˚⋆ ୧ ‎ ࣪ Warnings Cheating , Odessa , swearing Summary Hollywood is so overrated, but when Larissa finds out what our beloved Drew is up to, shit hits the fan 💋

The windows are open and the breeze couldn't feel any better.

The past few months have felt way too long. Drew is away filming Queer, and interviews for my new movie Anora have kept us away from each other. Every day felt like agony. I miss my boyfriend.

Calls were answered, Facetimed was longly awaited, and text messages were delivered for hours. You needed date nights in the apartment you bought with wine and your hand and pizza you bought from down the street from both you and Drew's favorite spot.

Your head snaps away from the thought when your phone starts ringing.

"hello," you say, The familiar voice echos in your apartment.

The voice you miss, and want all over you.

"Hi, beautiful," Drew responds, his sweet voice blessing the lonely voice in your apartment. Giggles are filled in the background of the hotel he is staying at, but you ignore it and continue your talking.

"I miss you so much; it hurts," I say while twisting my hair and looking out the window of my apartment. "who are you with," you say nervously.

"No one, it's the TV you hear, I miss you more, baby," He says. He lying; she is in his room, and he staring at her. " I fly back tomorrow night, I can't wait to see you, pretty girl." He says.

You get up and go to the mirror in your room. "I am so excited to see your face and kiss you again, I hate being far away from you". you say. Throwing your hair in a bun and going back to your bed. You feel something going on with him but do not want to ruin the moment you miss his voice.

The girl in his room he knew forever, and rumors always went around with them, Odessa. She was always with Drew. Pogulandia was with him, Paris for Loewe, Disney for her birthday, and New York. And now she is in his bed in Rome. You hated her but how could you express that to Drew when he and her were best friends before you had a relationship with him.

You had your doubts, but you're a people pleaser, you never wanted to upset anyone. You trusted Drew and thought of him highly. Plus, when did he have time for cheating when he was so busy filming.

After 20 minutes, you and Drew ended the call with exchanges with "I love you."

Drew ended the call, " Finally done with her yet, her voice is exhausting," Odessa said. "Stop," Drew expresses. She climbs on him and kisses him. "make me feel good," she says.

9:32 in the morning, Drew woke up and packed for his flight. Odessa left an hour ago to go back to her house. He did feel shame, but in his stupid boy head, he needed familiarity. He had always had a thing with her in secret.

In LA, it's 12:32, 13 more hours to go, and you get to see the love of your life. I missed waking up to him with his bed head and the smell that filled the room, and I missed him in general. 2 months away from him was the longest time they had been separated. 2 months he wasted with her. his free time would be with her.

13 hours later 1:32 pm

At the airport, waiting, counting down the minutes. "He told me 1:30," you whispered to yourself. You see him, and he sees you. you get out of your car and run to him.

"I missed you so much, baby," you say while hugging him. Felt like the world was so silent, and it was only him and you that existed.

He kissed me and whispered in my ear "Miss you more pretty girl" he says. It feels like you are you again, him being with you and you cannot wait to get him home.

The drive home felt like an eternity; it didn't feel real that he was with you. He has been away so long that you could only feel him so far away. He landed his hand on your thigh, and you laid your head on his shoulder.

After he settled in, it's been a couple hours. He was lying down in bed, saying he was jet-lagged.

*Ding* *Ding* *Ding*

His phone was on the nightstand next to you. Do or do not look at his phone. You never look through a boy's phone before. Yes, you trusted Drew, but you have your doubts. What could you possibly find, little did you know...

The contact said Odessa, This fucking bitch. You looked over at Drew. Sleeping Tight, you knew you had time to look at what she said. The Devil is telling me to do it.

"I miss you how you made me feel last night"

"When can you leave her house already, I need you"

You're Gut feeling all your friends talked about having when they have gotten cheated on. You said to yourself you would never feel that. Drew was good to you, no signs, no evidence. Until now, you can't breathe. heartbroken is the feeling you felt.

[brokenlovesong]

The JPC Darrel analysis I promised

Alright guys same deal as the last with just as much chaos. Sorry this took three years

Anyways. JPC DARREL LETS GET INTO IT

So he plays the youngest Darrel, no doubt. He’s tall but much smaller both physically and the way he portrays himself on stage. Using this he really plays into it. He’s a much less angry Darrel, more tied than anything else.

I think runs in the family reprise is where his version of Darrel really shines. He plays it very differently from Brent, Victor, or even Dan. He’s just so tired of it all. He doesn’t even start yelling until the end once pony has pushed him to his brink. When he sits down during the “you don’t tell me when you’re coming home lately” line it’s much less confrontational. He’s trying to stay calm and reason with his brother. It’s not until the “tired of lifting you up” part that he’s finally losing control and breaking. That’s the first time I think I genuinely saw him angry and even then he’s consciously trying to reign himself in but pony keeps pushing. And dude he YELLS “You have no idea what I give up for you” and because he didnt spend the song nearly as angry as like Brent does, that scared me so much because he just snapped.

I wanna talk about the scene between Darrel and dally because that scene was done in a way I’ve never seen it before by both Jpc and Josh Boone. Jpc is a much less physically intimidating Darrel. Especially compared to Josh Boone. That was taken into account by both of them which I have to give so much praise for because they did such a wonderful job. Darrel went in thinking he could push dally into revealing. He clearly had no intent to fight him. He was taunting him. But let me tell you dally knew how to play Darrel like a fiddle. He knew exactly what buttons to push in a way Darrel couldn’t. While he normally yells half that scene, dally didn’t raise his voice ONCE. He was even SMILING at the end because he wanted Darrel to swing at him. Dally loves fights and he knows he could easily win against jpc Darrel. So he played him. Decided to see how far he could push because if Darrel swung he could easily take him. Absolutely fantastic scene and lemme tell you Josh Boone calmly speaking the last bit of the scene with a smile? ABSOLUTELY TERRIFYING

Now throwing in the towel. So jpc flubbed the first part and bro I’ve never been more stressed (probably not as stressed as him tho LMAO) but he managed to keep it together which I give him so much credit for. He took his anxiety and stress and used that as a focus for his acting the rest of the scene. Other actors usually play this scene as very defeated. But he was much more anxious about pony and what’s to come next. And tbh this is the most in it I’ve ever seen Jason. Now I love Jason but I have found his acting style to be more passive then I’d like in some scenes (JUST MY OPINION PLEASE DONT ATTACK ME) I think because of what happened to jpc not only was he soda trying to comfort Darrel, I saw Jason trying to comfort jpc and it made the scene so much more beautiful and strong.

Overall, jpc Darrel is wonderful. My only main issue is that I felt like he read too similar in age to Brody as ponyboy and frankly Jason read older than him. Nothing to do with his acting. Jpc is an incredible actor. But I just feel like with the cast the way they are, while he reads as Darrel’s actual age, much of the cast reads older than their characters and so this does affect how he’s seen.

I did see him as soda too, with Dan darry, and I thought he was literally like who I envisioned soda to be when I read the book. Like he gave such soda energy it was incredible

[bright-side20]

Part two of the headcanon scene 🫶

With smut

And happy new year love ya 💗

Elain had met the prince for the daytime tour, as planned. He was polite and charming, his words perfectly rehearsed, his compliments just the right side of too much.

But Azriel hadn’t come.

She’d caught herself glancing over her shoulder more than once, hoping he’d step out of the shadows. She could hardly focus on her purpose, her mind kept wandering, thoughts returning again and again to him,his absence, and what had happened between them the night before.

By the time the sun set, Elain made her way down the dimly lit corridor. She paused outside Azriel’s door, her hand hovering just shy of the wood. She had a reason to be here,she had a very importante update about the treaty. That’s all this was, she told herself, even though deep down, she knew she was only fooling herself.

With a shaky breath, she knocked.

There was a brief pause, then the sound of footsteps, and the door cracked open. Azriel stood in the doorway, his damp hair curling over his forehead, droplets of water still clinging to his chest. A towel hung low around his hips, and the dark tattoos that swirled over his shoulders seemed to absorb the faint light.

For a moment, she forgot why she was even here.

“Elain,” he said, his voice soft.

Her tongue felt clumsy in her mouth.

“I…” She swallowed hard, her eyes darting anywhere but his chest, her hands smoothing down her dress. “Am I disturbing you?”

“No,” he replied simply, stepping back to let her in. “Is everything all right?”

She nodded, stepping further into the room as she heard him softly close the door behind her. The room was dim, light spilling from the bathroom door he hadn’t fully shut. She could see the steam curling in the air, the clean, woodsy scent of his soap still lingering.

"I wanted to update you on the treaty," she said.

One brow arched slightly, skepticism flickering across his face. "The treaty?"

"Yes," she replied. "I wasn’t sure if you’d come to dinner, so I thought I’d come and talk to you now."

"I'm listening," he said.

She tried not to let her gaze linger on the towel around his waist, but it was hard. She had imagined many things, but never had it crossed her mind that she would be discussing political matters with Azriel, freshly out of the bath.

She inhaled, steadying herself. “The prince didn’t agree to the terms outright, but he seemed receptive. He asked a lot of questions about the Night Court’s political relations with the other courts. He seemed...” She paused, searching for the right word. “Convinced. Or close to it.”

Azriel’s expression didn’t change, but she could see the tension in his shoulders.

“He said he would support me when I speak to the king and queen tonight during dinner,” she added, her voice uncertain. “He thinks they’ll be more inclined to agree if he stands with us.”

“Good,” Azriel said simply.

Elain frowned. “You don’t seem pleased.”

“I am,” he replied, though his voice lacked conviction.

He stepped past her his wings shifting slightly, and she couldn’t help but notice the muscles in his back flexing, the light catching on his golden skin. He still hadn’t bothered to grab a shirt, and didn’t seem to care that she could see every line, every curve of his body.

“I’m glad it went well. I have no doubt you’ll convince the king and queen tonight,” he said, his voice too even.

"Why didn’t you come to the tour?" she blurted out.

"I had no interest in watching the prince trying to woo you," Azriel replied, his tone flat. But all she had to do was look into his eyes he was jealous. She knew it. And she should have been angry, he had no right to act that way, but a part of her thrilled at it.

Her gaze drifted to the tattoos etched across his chest, the black lines curling down his skin . She’d only ever caught glimpses of them before, faint edges visible above the collar of his Illyrian leathers. But now, with nothing to hide them, she could see them fully, and they were beautiful. He was beautiful, in a way that made her head spin.

Elain’s fingertips burned with the urge to touch him. Her gaze lingered on his chest, on the tattoos curling over his golden skin, bold  against the hard muscle beneath. He looked powerful,dangerously so...Her eyes drifted lower, following the sharp definition of his abs, the way they tensed and shifted with each breath, down to where the towel sat dangerously low on his hips. Heat pooled in her stomach as she imagined running her fingers over those dark lines, feeling the strength beneath them. Maybe she’d let herself get closer, let her lips brush the ink. Maybe she’d even let her tongue follow their path...

“Elain,” he said suddenly, his voice low , pulling her back to reality.

Her cheeks burned as she realized, mortified, that she’d been shamelessly staring fantasizing about tracing his tattoos with her tongue while he stood there, fully aware of her wandering gaze.

“Why are you here?” he asked, his wings shifting slightly.

“To update you about the treaty,” she managed to say, her voice barely steady.

He didn’t respond immediately, just arched a brow, his expression one of disbelief as if to say, Are you serious?

Her eyes drifted to the nightstand, and that’s when she noticed it,the small bottle of headache powder she’d given him two years ago. How was it still here? Had he ever even used it? Her gaze shifted to the earplugs resting beside it, the ones she’d gifted him last Solstice. Why did he keep them? Weren’t they just a reminder of that night, of the mistake they’d nearly made? She shook her head confused .

Azriel’s gaze followed hers before he moved, stepping in front of her and blocking her view.

She looked up at him, searching for answers in his hazel eyes. He was a mystery, one she longed to understand, but one she could never quite reach. Every time she thought she was close, he pulled away, retreating into silence and distance.

She took a step back, but as she turned toward the door, his hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling her into him so fast she stumbled into his chest. The sudden closeness of him ,the warmth of his scarred hand on her skin...Her gaze betrayed her, drifting to the towel slung low on his hips, barely hanging on. One tug ,that was all it would take.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice a low rasp.

Her eyes snapped back up to meet his. You, she thought. I want you. But instead, she said, “You never answer my questions. So why should I answer yours?”

His hand slid from her wrist to the back of her neck, holding her in place as he leaned in. His breath fanned over her lips, sending a shiver through her. “Because,” he murmured, “it’s the only way you’ll get what you want.”

Her heart pounded as heat coiled low in her belly. She pressed her thighs together, desperate to calm the ache. Before she could think better of it, the words slipped past her lips.

“Touch me,” she whispered. “Just this once.”

She could’ve sworn she saw a flicker of pain in his eyes before he growled low in his throat. She closed her eyes, waiting for his kiss, but instead, his hands gently gripped her waist, pulling her closer until he was seated on the edge of the bed and she was sitting on his lap.

His gaze swept over her, lingering on her eyes, her lips, her throat. His fingers brushed the side of her neck as he pushed a strand of hair aside. His voice almost a whisper, repeating, “Just this once.” Then, his lips pressed hot against her neck, biting down gently before his tongue flicked over her skin. She bit her lip, trying to stifle her moan .

When he tugged the strap of her dress down and trailed kisses over her shoulder, she shifted, grinding her ass against his length. He hissed, the towel doing little to hide anything. A whimper escaped her as he nipped at her earlobe, his teeth grazing her skin. Then, he slowly lifted her dress. His scarred hands kneaded her thighs before parting them gently. They were so beautiful against her skin.

She tensed as his fingers slid up until they brushed the edge of her underwear, her body jerked, almost falling off his lap, but he caught her, his free hand sliding to her waist. “Relax,” he whispered, returning to kiss her neck. Her head fell back onto his shoulder, breathing in his scent, which now mixed with something she couldn’t describe.

He tugged her underwear aside and immediately pressed his finger to her clit, making her moan. He rubbed in slow circles, his free hand moving from her waist to knead her breast. He continued in slow circles until she was trembling. She knew that his towel was now soaked with her arousal. His hand left her clit, and she shivered as a finger thrust into her. He kissed her neck before adding a second finger and began to move in and out. She closed her eyes, panting, her hand gripping his on her breast,but then she heard him.

"Open your eyes and look at me, Elain," he pronounced her name like it was a prayer. She obeyed, meeting his gaze, and she knew this wasn’t a just this once. He began moving faster, his fingers working inside her as he watched her face, as though he was trying to memorize it.

She began grinding against him, her movements desperate, and he matched her rhythm, never breaking her gaze. A low growl rumbled from his chest, giving her permission to continue. She felt herself tightening around him, and his fingers quickened, driving her closer to the edge. She shuddered, threading her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer . His mouth hovered just inches from hers, but neither of them moved to kiss. His eyes burned with an intensity that made her lose herself in the depth of their gaze, every hue shining with hunger

She gasped as he slid a third finger inside her, stretching her further. Her walls fluttered around him, and she knew she was close ,she was going to come right here, on his lap. His movements slowed, each thrust going deeper as his palm pressed against her clit. She whimpered when he pinched her nipple through the thin fabric of her dress, then curled his fingers slightly inside her. She came, waves of pleasure overtaking her ,her body trembling in his hold.

He held her close, pressing soft kisses to her shoulder. As her breathing steadied, she glanced back at him, her eyes locking with his. He pulled his fingers from her, guiding them to his mouth. His gaze never wavered from hers as he moaned softly, savoring the taste, and slowly, deliberately licked them clean.

"You’re sweeter than I ever imagined," he said, his voice thick with desire.

A deep flush spread across her cheeks as she stared at him, her breath catching in her throat. "Oh, gods," she whispered. It was the most erotic thing she had ever witnessed.

She shifted slightly, acutely aware of the hardness still pressing against her. She pushed gently against his shoulders, attempting to coax him back into the bed, but he resisted. "I'm fine," he muttered through clenched teeth.

"Let me, please," she whispered, her voice breathless, as she leaned in, pressing a kiss to his shoulder before trailing her tongue over the swirl of his tattoo. Her hand slid down to his chest, feeling the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her palm, before drifting lower, her fingers grazing the hard line of his abdomen. She felt the subtle twitch of his muscles under her touch .

She needed more.

Her eyes darted to his wings, spread wide and powerful behind him, the dark, leathery texture gleaming faintly in the dim light. They were beautiful, and she couldn't help but imagine how they'd feel ...the way his wings twitched when he moved, how they were so much a part of him. She wanted it all.

The clock chimed. Their eyes locked, both of them panting. She was a mess her body aching for him, and he was rock hard beneath the towel, his hands gripping the bed, struggling to restrain himself from pulling her closer. The reality of the moment hit them both: they had to join the royal family for dinner... now.

[brooklynnbbg]

omg could u do a luigi smut where u guys have to be quiet bc u dont want his frat bros hearing🫶🫶 be as descriptive as u want theres no good smuts put there😭

♡ WARNINGS - Smut! Oral (m+f), unprotected p in v, Luigi is mean!

♡ A/N -  Ugh guys idk if i prefer mean frat boy Luigi or lover boy Luigi… this is so difficult. Also idk if this is descriptive enough but it's kinda long lmao so hopefully that makes up for it!

He’d been watching you all night- Luigi Mangione. You knew his reputation for being a fuck boy, and you didn’t doubt it either. The way his eyes ran over you as you danced, it was hard for you to keep your composure. But no, you weren’t going to let him have it, not until he walked over and flashed you that smile. Fuck. 

Before you knew it, the door was slamming shut behind you, and Luigi was wasting no time pushing you up against it, his lips crashing onto yours. The dim lighting in his frat house bedroom cast long shadows across the room, but the muffled sounds of his roommates laughing and talking just down the hall made everything feel more intense. You broke away, gasping, and Luigi grinned against your lips.

"Gotta be quiet," he whispered, his voice rough with arousal. "Don't want them hearing, do we?"

You shook your head, your cheeks burning at the thought. You were a good girl, squeaky clean. You wanted nothing to do with the torture you’d endure if anyone found out.  No, we don’t."

Luigi smirked, his hands sliding under your shirt, tugging it up and over your head. "Good girl, huh? Too scared to be caught?” his tone was condescending, rude. You wanted to smack him and fuck him at the same time. But something about the way he smirked at you made you want to prove him wrong. 

You sank to your knees almost instinctively, the heat in his gaze making your pulse race. He watched you intently as you undid his belt and zipper, freeing him from the confines of his jeans. His cock, already hard and leaking, twitched under your touch. Luigi let out a shaky breath as you wrapped your hand around him, pumping slowly before leaning forward to take him into your mouth.

"Fuck," he hissed, his head falling back against the door. One of his hands tangled in your hair, pushing your head down forcefully. "Take it all baby.. shit” You hummed around him, hollowing your cheeks as you took him deeper. The way he was reacting satisfied you, and the way his tip was hitting the back of your throat made your eyes fill with tears. The vibration made his grip tighten, and a strained groan escaped his lips. You slowed your pace, teasing him with your tongue and pulling back to kiss along his length, your eyes flicking up to meet his. His jaw clenched and his eyes rolled back  as he fought to stay quiet, his free hand slamming against the door to steady himself.

You looked up at him through your lashes, mascara streaming down your cheeks and spit mixed with precum  leaking from your mouth. "You’re gonna kill me," he murmured, his voice low and ragged. "Come here."

Luigi pulled you to your feet, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. His hands found the waistband of your jeans, tugging them down along with your underwear in one swift motion. He backed you toward the bed, his mouth never leaving yours, and roughly pushed you down onto the mattress.

"Lay back," he instructed, his voice softer now but no less commanding. You obeyed, your pulse quickening as he settled between your thighs. His lips trailed down your body, leaving a path of heat and satisfaction in their wake. When he reached your core, he paused, his eyes locking onto yours.

"Quiet, remember?" he reminded you with a smirk before diving in.

His tongue worked you with precision, flicking and circling your clit while his fingers teased your entrance. Your hands flew to your mouth, stifling the moan that threatened to escape. The pressure built quickly, and when his fingers slid inside you, curling against that perfect spot, you couldn’t hold back the muffled cry that escaped into your palm.

"Fuck, perfect cunt" he murmured, his voice vibrating against your skin. "You taste so fucking good."

You came undone, your thighs trembling around his head as your orgasm washed over you. Luigi didn’t stop, his tongue and fingers drawing out every wave of pleasure until you were gasping for air. You moaned loudly, trying desperately to quiet yourself with your hands. 

"Think you can my cock? Quietly, that is?" he asked, his voice laced with amusement and desire. It was like a game to him, he knew you couldn't. He liked knowing you couldn't. 

You nodded, barely able to form a coherent thought. Luigi stood, shedding the last of his clothes before positioning himself at your entrance. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Remember, love. Quiet."

He pushed in slowly, stretching you in a way that made your back arch off the bed. You bit your lip hard, trying to suppress the cry threatening to escape. Luigi groaned, his forehead pressing against yours as he pounded into you. 

"Fuck, you feel amazing," he breathed, pulling back only to thrust in again, setting a steady rhythm.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, your muffled whimpers spurring him on. Each thrust was deliberate, his hips rolling against yours in a way that hit all the right spots. The bed creaked softly beneath you, and Luigi smirked, his lips finding your neck.

"Gonna get us caught," he teased, his voice low and teasing. "Can’t have that, can we? Don’t want everyone knowing your a fucking slut, do you?"

You shook your head, clinging to him as he drove you closer to the edge. He reached between you, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing gentle circles that sent you spiraling.

"Lu," you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper.

"That’s it," he encouraged, his movements never faltering. "Come for me, love."

Your orgasm hit you hard, your body trembling as you buried your face in his shoulder to muffle your cries. Luigi groaned, his thrusts growing erratic as he chased his own release. With a final, deep thrust, he spilled into you, his body shuddering against yours.

For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing. Luig ipulled out gently, collapsing beside you on the bed. He reached over, brushing the hair from your face and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, a rare moment of tenderness.

"You felt so good, never felt anything like it” he murmured, his voice filled with lust, but you thought you heard a trace of affection hidden in it.

You smiled, your body still tingling from the aftershocks. "I think we were quiet enough."

Luigi laughed now, loudly, pulling you into his arms. "We definitely weren’t, but dont worry, i wont let them give you shit.” 

You laughed softly, burying your face in his chest. Whatever the consequences, you knew you wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

Tags: @nicholaschavezslut69, @ddlydevotion, @italianbabydaddy, @rckerbell, @slavicdolls4mangione, @perfumeaddicted @yeeterang @days12 @v1rtualsalvat10n @bricapellan16 @sleeepytimebear @preiyers @hdh-57jcidm-blog

[azrielmasterlist]

His Shadows & Their Starlight

Storyline:-(Ver.2.0) Azriel is sitting next to Elain as you sit by the fireplace reading. You've been staying with Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand for the past two months in Velaris. You're a mortal but Rhysand says you have different abilities that no mortal should be able to have. For example, winnowing or teleporting. Azriel is in love with Elain Archeron even though Elain already has a mate.

Word count:- 1.3k

Warnings:- Insecurity, Lonliness, Jealousy, Angst.

Series:- Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Chapter 3: A Mortal's Heart

Isla's POV

I didn't realize how lonely I had been until I started feeling like I wasn't anymore.

The Night Court was not an easy place to belong. Everyone here seemed to have a purpose, a role carved out of fire, magic, and history. They were warriors and dreamers, protectors and rulers, each of them larger than life in ways I could barely fathom. And then there was me—a mortal girl who had stumbled into this world like a leaf blown in by the wind.

Rhysand had a way of making me feel at ease, though. There was a kindness to him, a patience that never felt patronizing. He spoke to me as if I were an equal, even when I doubted I ever could be. Feyre, too, was warm and inviting, her smiles carrying the same quiet strength that seemed to define the Night Court itself.

But Azriel... Azriel was different.

He was always watching me, though he seemed to think I didn't notice. His gaze lingered in ways that made my skin prickle—not out of discomfort, but out of something I couldn't quite name. It wasn't just the way he looked at me, though. It was the way he didn't look at me, too. The way his attention would flicker away, as though he were fighting something within himself.

I could see his pain, even if he tried to hide it. It was in the tension of his shoulders, the careful way he moved, as though he were always ready for a battle that might never come. It was in his silence, in the way his shadows curled around him like armor.

But those same shadows—they didn't act that way around me.

They moved differently when I was near. Softer, gentler, like they were reaching for me, offering something unspoken that I didn't fully understand. At first, I thought I was imagining it, that I was seeing things that weren't there. But the more time I spent in Velaris, the more certain I became.

It wasn't just the shadows. It was Azriel, too.

I didn't know what it meant, but I couldn't ignore the way he seemed to be drawn to me, even as he tried to keep his distance.

One evening, after dinner with the inner circle, I found myself wandering through the halls of the House of Wind. It was quiet, the kind of silence that felt alive, as though the walls themselves were listening.

I didn't realize where my feet were taking me until I stepped out onto a balcony overlooking the city. The view was breathtaking, the lights of Velaris shimmering like a sea of stars. But I wasn't alone.

Azriel was there, standing at the edge of the balcony with his back to me. His wings were partially unfurled, the faint moonlight catching on the dark, leathery expanse.

I hesitated, unsure if I should interrupt. But his shadows shifted, curling around him before stretching out toward me, as if they were inviting me closer.

"Couldn't sleep?" I asked softly, stepping up beside him.

He glanced at me, his expression unreadable. "Something like that."

The silence between us was heavy but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that felt like a conversation in its own right.

"You're always watching," I said after a moment, my voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel's gaze flicked to mine, sharp and searching. "And you're always noticing."

There was something in his tone—an edge of curiosity, maybe even amusement.

"I can't help it," I admitted. "You're... not easy to ignore."

He let out a soft, almost bitter laugh. "That's not usually a good thing."

I turned to face him fully, my heart pounding in my chest. "It's not a bad thing, either."

Azriel didn't respond right away. His shadows shifted around him, curling and uncurling like restless creatures.

"You don't belong here," he said finally, his voice quiet but firm. "This world—it's not meant for mortals."

The words stung, but not because they weren't true. They were. I knew that. But hearing him say it—it felt like a rejection, even if I knew he didn't mean it that way.

"I know," I said, my voice steady despite the ache in my chest. "But I'm here anyway."

Azriel's gaze softened slightly, and for a moment, I thought I saw something flicker in his eyes—something raw and unguarded.

"You're stronger than you realize," he said quietly. "Stronger than most of us."

The words caught me off guard, and I didn't know how to respond.

Before I could say anything, his shadows moved again, brushing against my arm like a gentle caress. The sensation was strange but comforting, like a warmth I hadn't realized I was missing.

"Do they always do that?" I asked, nodding toward the shadows.

Azriel's lips curved into the faintest of smiles. "Not usually."

I didn't know what that meant, but I didn't press him. Instead, I let the silence settle between us again, the weight of the moment sinking into my bones.

As the days turned into weeks, I found myself spending more time with the inner circle. They were kind to me, in their own ways, and I began to feel less like an outsider and more like... something else. Not quite one of them, but not entirely separate, either.

And Azriel—he was always there, hovering at the edges of my awareness. He didn't speak much, but his presence was impossible to ignore.

It was in the quiet moments, though, that I felt closest to him. The moments when his shadows would reach for me, offering a silent kind of comfort that I couldn't put into words.

I didn't know what it meant, this bond that seemed to be forming between us. But I knew it was real, even if neither of us fully understood it yet.

One night, as I lay awake in my room, staring up at the ceiling, I couldn't stop thinking about him. About the way his shadows moved around me, the way his gaze lingered just a little too long.

I didn't know what to do with these feelings, these thoughts that seemed to consume me. But I knew one thing for certain: Azriel was more than just the sum of his pain and his shadows.

And maybe, just maybe, I was more than just a mortal girl trying to find her place in a world of immortals.

Maybe we were both something more.

Taglist:-

@donnadiddadog

[aonemanarmy]

Faced with the stranger before him Sephiroth had no idea how he was supposed to react or what Vincent expected from him. The only reason he'd agreed to the other man's request was to slate his own curiosity, but things were swiftly turning in a way he hadn't expected and that he didn't like in the slightest. With the way things were going he also felt deeply unsettled which was a feeling he wasn't accustomed to and coupled with the stabbing pain behind his eyes made him all the more agitated with the situation.

Surely this had to be some sort of trick. An attempt the ex-Turk made to try to distract him from his true goal, but why would he do so in such a manner and why use one of Jenova's discarded puppets? It was a thought that gave him pause before it was disrupted completely by a wash of blinding white light that filled the dim cavern.

With a hiss the madman narrowed his eyes, the light burning his already abnormally sensitive sight and adding a new layer of pain. Fortunately, the blinding light didn't last long and faded away to reveal Jenova's discarded puppet standing outside of her crystalline prison, a strange expression on her face that Sephiroth couldn't begin to understand much like the tears she freely shed.

“Is it really you… Sephiroth?”

He didn't like the way she said the word. It felt wrong and conjured old memories of how for the vast majority of his life he didn't have a name, at least not of the kind that any ordinary person could possibly comprehend as one. Shinra and Hojo in particular had no reason to care if he had a normal name or not and he'd only been granted one for the sake of convenience, since ordinary people wouldn't have been able to remember what he was called or address him properly if needed. It was only because of that he was called Sephiroth, but for all other purposes his true 'name' was #S13106 and he'd never forgotten that fact.

How dare this woman act as if she knew him? She was a stranger to him, one that caused an inextricable sense of dread to gnaw at the back of his maddened mind in a way he'd never felt before, one that went even beyond that feeling back in Nibelheim before his mortal life came to an end.

He didn't like it.

'Lies.' Jenova's voice filled his mind, dark and venomous in response to Lucrecia's words. 'A pitiful broken thing such as her believes she can maintain a shred of relevance and power in her attempts to control you. If what she claims were true then where was she this whole time?

'All it means is that she chose to abandon you to your fate, to discard you for the sake of her own safety. No true mother would willingly abandon her child to such a fate.'

The sting of those words wasn't lost on Sephiroth. It brought to mind the idealized concept he'd had of a mother as a child, as someone that would do anything to protect their child. Now he couldn't help but think he was horribly naive and that despite all her faults that at least Jenova had never truly abandoned him – more like it was Shinra and Hojo that had kept her from him. But if this woman claimed to be speaking the truth then she had to realize she was confessing to him that she had willingly left him to suffer a fate worse than death.

“I’m not worthy of your forgiveness, and I do not ask for anything. But if you would grant me one thing…”

Forgiveness? No, that was the last thing that Sephiroth was capable of given the circumstances, especially if any of these claims were true, which he seriously doubted. If anything, simply considering the possibility made him feel more angry and bitter.

“…May I hold you? Just once?”

A flicker of barren white tile walls and bright fluorescent lights suddenly filled Sephiroth's mind. Alongside it came the sensation of the bite of steel into his restrained limbs, locking him into place on the chill table beneath him as stared up into an expressionless masked face. A face he knew that was smiling a familiar twisted smile at him even as the razor-sharp scalpel sunk into his flesh and slowly dragged through it, opening gaping red mouths that filled the sterile air with a sickly metallic scent that was practically drowning him.

Then he could feel as they reached inside of his trembling body and started to slice and pull until he could feel pieces of him being removed. The very same pieces he witnessed being held aloft by scarlet painted gloves and placed on a waiting tray which was swiftly whisked away by other masked people, all of whom looked at him like one would look at an insect pinned to a cork board.

All the while he could only silently scream behind the leather strap in his mouth, his whole body writhing as tears streamed down the sides of his face. It was only when scalpel hung over his face, blade glinting in the blinding white light that he could feel anything other than pain, but that didn't last long as it dropped closer and his tears turned crimson.

The unbidden memory had Sephiroth step back, a hand lifting to clutch at his head as the pain behind his eyes reached a new crescendo. How fitting that the pain so perfectly mirrored that in his memory to the point he thought it to be one and the same. It was almost as if he was back there again, back in that place where he'd first come to learn the truth of the world.

'Foolish woman,' in that moment Jenova made herself known to Lucrecia, reaching out speaking into her thoughts through the cells that bound her to the creature since the first day she trod down the path of her magnum opus. 'You are too late. He is mine and you shall not have him.'

“It will be the same,” he shook his head, fingers digging into and threatening to tear into his own flesh. “Your touch, theirs, it is always the same.”

It had long been Vincent’s desire to see Lucrecia smile once again; it was a strong as Lucrecia's desire to hold her son. Nevertheless, Vincent wasn’t naïve to think that bringing Sephiroth to Lucrecia could grant him that lovely smile. There was too much tension, too much sorrow and regret, and of course the issue of Jenova’s presence. If there was one individual who could understand Lucrecia’s heart, it was Vincent. Even if his love was one-sided, it didn’t matter. Her single most wanted desire was to see her son, and he would carry it out, even if it terrified him.

The cool misty cave winds gently brushed across Sephiroth’s hair and face as if guided by the woman’s voice. Regardless of Sephiroth’s harsh tone, the voice responded just as gently as before. Sephiroth… The words were a bit clearer this time, and the Ex-SOLDIER could begin to hear emotion riddling the feminine voice. Undertones of sorrow, perplexity, and bridled happiness could be heard. “Lucrecia,” Vincent quietly called to her beyond the crystal. “Don’t be afraid. I’m right here.” He then briefly glanced over at Sephiroth with a wary eye. …This time… I won’t let you suffer. A bright light slowly began to form around the crystal, filling the cave like a flood of white. It caused Vincent to shield his eyes. The sound of soft shimmering crystals echoed in the cave as the woman’s figure began to once again take shape in front of them. Her body was encompassed with a hazy glow. Slowly but surely, the light faded away, revealing the woman standing near the base of the crystal, her silk white dress flowing free. Her hazel brown eyes were locked on Sephiroth; surfacing with all of the past years of regret in the form of tears. Silence fell between them for some time, until the woman seemed to find her voice again. “Is it really you… Sephiroth?” Tears streamed down both her cheeks. Sephiroth… her son. He was beautiful, powerful, and outwardly the pride of any mother. Her arms ached to hold him, but as a mother is want to do, she could sense the darkness resonating in him. She knew that she meant nothing to him, even if he was everything to her. She could sense the bitterness and hatred—all that Hojo had ever wanted for Sephiroth to become. Ultimately, he had won. Vincent remained silent, keenly watching them both in anticipation of anything, though challenged with the occasional reminder of the pain shooting down his abused lower body. Lucrecia finally shook her head, turning her gaze from Sephiroth to stare at the rocky ground. “How can I say I’m his true mother? Or any mother at all?” A pained furrow crossed Vincent’s brow as her words brought back every memory from that time. Lucrecia turned to look at Sephiroth once again, her heart aching every time she looked upon him. “Sephiroth,” her words tender and warm. “…It is true. I carried you in my womb. I gave birth to you. But I….” Her small hands clenched at her sides as more tears of horrible memories flooded into her mind. “Lucrecia—” Sensing where her words were headed, Vincent began to plead with her, but then held his peace, knowing he had to allow her to have closure. “If only I could have been a true mother to you. Someone to comfort and protect you, to shield you from pain…” Her voice softened into almost a whisper as she once again met Sephiroth’s eyes, seeing those eyes laden with cruelty and years of torment. “I’m not worthy of your forgiveness, and I do not ask for anything. But if you would grant me one thing…” Vincent looked up in confusion and held his breath as he listened. The woman in white took one small step forward, folding her hands over her chest pleadingly, her fingers trembling. What Lucrecia asked caused Vincent’s heart to stop. “…May I hold you? Just once?”  

[syndrossi]

Rhaegar telling Jon who the Knight of Stars really is, if you please.

"Just 100 words, or to the nearest closing sentence," she said foolishly. (I should know myself better by now.)

Look, I TRY to keep them to 100 words, but sometimes the setup takes a bit..

x~x~x

Jon’s heart had yet to calm, even after they had seen with their own eyes that Daemon was safe and whole and only slightly bruised from the melee, his arms around them strong and reassuring. Our idea, he thought, the horror of it still fresh. We risked his life because we thought it would be fun.

And it was only the sharp instincts of the Knight of Stars, who Jon had already decided was almost certainly an enemy, that had saved him.

They were escorted back to the holdfast, despite Jon’s vehement protests, while his brother walked in a silent daze. He knew that Daemon would be surrounded by Kingsguard, and that Ser Arryk would be back at his side, but that was not enough. He needed to know precisely who had made the attempt on their father’s life, and now more than ever, who the Knight of Stars was.

He could yet be an enemy. The attack could have been designed to earn their trust by giving the mystery knight an opportunity to prove himself in as dramatic a fashion as possible. But the melee, even as gentle as this one had been designed, had been chaos. It would have been no simple thing to coordinate.

Once the doors to their apartment had shut, with Ser Erryk on the other side, Rhaegar turned to him. “We must get to the small council chamber.”

He was still pale with shock, but there was an urgency in his voice that made Jon straighten. “What is it? What is the matter?”

Rhaegar glanced about, presumably to see if Rolen had returned yet from the tourney, but there was no sign of the servant. “The Knight of Stars, I saw his face.” His stare seemed to pass through Jon. “I know him. Knew him. From before.”

“Before?” Jon echoed, half in disbelief.

“What if there are others like us?” Rhaegar blurted. “Others who went to Summerhall, perhaps in search of us? What if my—” He cut himself off, but Jon knew the source of the painful yearning in his voice.

His mother. Jon’s mind went to the warlock’s first attempt at luring him, using his mother’s voice. Is this another trick of theirs?

“I know the Knight of Stars,” Rhaegar repeated firmly, seeming to recognize his sudden doubt. “He was one of my father’s Kingsguard, sworn to protect me, and he has reason to hide his face and name here. He is Ser Arthur of House Dayne.”

Jon forced his mouth shut. That name he knew, though he did not dare explain to Rhaegar how. The Sword of Morning. One of the greatest knights and Kingsguard, slain at the Tower of Joy. Slain defending my mother and me from my father—my uncle.

A needless death. Ned Stark would never have harmed his sister or his nephew. Jon had found himself wondering on occasion how different it might have been had the knight been at his father’s side instead, at the Battle of Trident.

He left his best to defend me, and kept so little for himself.

“Once they learn that he is Dornish, they will think that he was part of the plot,” Rhaegar said. “Or at best, refuse to allow him to join the Princesguard.”

I wonder if he has his sword—Dawn. Jon shook himself, forcing his thoughts to the matter at hand. Rhaegar was right. Their father was a suspicious man, and the attention that the Knight of Stars had paid to Rhaegar, which made sense now, would only have inflamed such suspicions.

But if the Knight of Stars truly was Ser Arthur Dayne, brought into this world by the same means that had stolen them away, then it would be madness not to gain him as an ally.

And there could be others.

“What do you propose?”

[jesterday00]

Reunion

Bonus spoiler warning just in case

A clock ticked quietly and creating a peaceful melody with the crackle of a fire; snow fell gently outside, glittering through the window panes. Theodore Layton sat lost in thought, tea warming his hands as he lounged on his couch. Something was keeping him awake, and he was sifting through his memories like an archaeological dig.

Of course, because of recent events, he was regularly brought back to the Triton family - though he’d come to terms with their move long before Luke had told him, so he knew his restlessness was tied to something else.

Perhaps it was Flora, then? She’d been quite upset at the professor for not telling her sooner that Luke was moving away, and he’d admitted he’d never found the right time or words. It hurt so deeply to realize he’d given her no time to process the fact that he was leaving. He doubted that was the problem though, as they were making good strides in their conversations about processing these feelings.

The thought of Claire came up for a moment, but after a gentle squeeze of the heart, the thought passed. She was gone now, he knew for sure, and he had come to terms with that not long ago.

Then, finally, another face graced his mind.

It had been a year, maybe longer, since he’d been seen. The days seemed to have slipped by after that event, what with Saint Mystere and the Molentary Express, and just recently Future London. That letter still sat in his desk, the words burned into his heart.

“I will return to you someday, hopefully soon. But for now, I must take my leave. Stay strong, Teddy.”

He gripped the cup tighter as its warmth faded, then took a sip. Perhaps this…

As the clock struck midnight, he decided it would be better to speculate in bed. At least if he fell asleep mid thought, he wouldn’t be stiff in the morning. Swinging his legs down, he grabbed the blanket to fold it back up-

A knock, quiet but firm. Someone who knew the hour but wanted to be heard. One of the neighbors, perhaps?

He stood, then, setting the half-full teacup on the table and approached the door. He undid the deadbolt and lock quietly, then slowly opened the door.

Standing on his doorstep, damp coat in hand, was Hershel.

In the span of a heartbeat, Theo took in the details of his brother’s appearance - he’d trimmed his hair again recently, and it looked more gray than before; he looked well rested, though the late hour was beginning to show. When he glanced up from the doormat, Theo noted shame, then relief, then tears.

Without warning, his knees gave out as he crossed the threshold, and Hershel caught him in a hug. Body trembling, he could only whisper, “Hershel..!” Tears burned down his cheeks and he found himself clutching his brother’s shirt tightly. He didn’t want to let go, couldn’t bear the thought of losing him again.

“I’m so sorry,” Hershel said, his own voice cracking with emotion, “I’m so sorry for leaving… after all we went through…” Theo felt his brother’s grip tighten on his own jumper. All he could hope was that this meant they would be staying together from here on out.

[clarkeyhill]

Does he know? | Arthur Hill

Angst.

The breakup with Arthur had been messy. Six months ago, we stood in the ruins of what we’d built, our voices raised, our words sharp. We’d said things that couldn’t be unsaid, done things that couldn’t be undone. I’d walked away, thinking it was the right choice, the healthy choice. But time had softened those jagged edges, and I’d convinced myself we were better apart.

A few months later, I met someone new. He was kind and thoughtful, everything Arthur wasn’t. He listened without interrupting, never let his temper flare, and made me feel wanted in a way that felt safe and steady. With him, I thought I could finally leave Arthur behind.

But Arthur had always been the storm, the fire.

One evening, I posted a fit check on Instagram—a sleek, black outfit I’d spent weeks piecing together. I admired the photo as it went live, the angles perfect, my confidence shining through the screen. I didn’t expect to see his name in the notifications.

Arthurnfhill liked your post.

My breath hitched when I saw the comment:

"Love the outfit 👀"

I stared at my phone, my heart skipping a beat. It felt like an echo from the past, like he’d reached through the screen and pulled me back to him.

“Who is that?” my new romance asked when he noticed me staring too long at my phone.

“Just…an ex,” I said, brushing it off.

“Do you still talk to him?”

“No,” I admitted, my voice wavering slightly. “We ended things months ago.”

But the comment stuck with me. That night, as I lay next to someone who treated me like I was fragile, my mind drifted back to Arthur. To the nights when he’d grip my hips like I was his anchor, his lips fierce against mine. To the arguments that burned hot and ended in tangled sheets. To the way he’d look at me, like I was the only thing he ever wanted.

The memories haunted me, filling every quiet moment with doubts about the life I’d started to rebuild.

It wasn’t intentional, reaching out to him. Or maybe it was. A simple “hey” turned into hours of texting. Every word brought back the intensity of what we’d shared.

“Do you want to come over?” Arthur asked one night.

I knew it was wrong. But I went.

When he opened the door, he was everything I remembered and more. His messy hair, the slight smirk that tugged at his lips when he saw me, the way his eyes darkened as they swept over my body.

It didn’t take long before I was in his arms, pressed against him, every part of me screaming that this was where I belonged.

But when it was over, as we lay in the dim light of his bedroom, he turned to me, his voice low and gravelly.

“Does he know?”

The question hit me like a punch. My stomach twisted, guilt rising in waves.

“No,” I whispered.

Arthur’s hand brushed against my cheek, his touch both tender and possessive. “You can’t keep doing this,” he said. “If you want me, you have to want me all the way. None of this half-in, half-out stuff. I’m not waiting for you to figure it out.”

And in that moment, I realized how much I’d shattered—not just my new lover’s trust, but my own sense of who I was. I’d been selfish, caught in the pull of a love that consumed me while pretending I could leave it behind.

Tears pricked my eyes as I pulled away. “I need time,” I said.

Arthur looked at me, his jaw tight. “Don’t take too long. I won’t be here forever.”

And as I walked out of his apartment, I knew I was standing on the edge of a choice I couldn’t avoid much longer.

-

🫶🏻

[dragonerd8224]

New Year’s kiss: A Nevermore oneshot

idk man I felt like it ok?

—

“Annabel, what’s wrong?” Prospero asked, his voice quiet and careful not to ring through the halls of the Academy.

“Nothing, love,” Annabel lied. “Just dreams, memories, memories of dreams…” In her mind’s eye she kept seeing a moment. A moment that never happened. Or maybe it did. She didn’t quite remember. She couldn’t stop remembering the toll of a bell, the joyous shouts, the unexpected feeling on her lips.

It had felt so wrong, but so right.

“The year is drawing to a close, isn’t it?” Prospero whispered.

“I’m not sure how, but I know that you are correct.” Annabel mused. “Do you think the Deans will initiate any festivities?”

Prospero shook his head. “It’s unlikely, and besides, it doesn’t matter. A ball would only take away our focus.”

“Yes, I agree,” Annabel replied. She nearly said something else: It would never be as good as that night. A night that may never have happened.

That night, spent with her dearest friend, who offered to kiss her when the clock struck midnight. She remembered the words, unsure if she had ever heard them or only dreamed them. “Better me than some boring man who you barely know, yes?”

And Lenore had been right. It was better. Much better.

—

“It’s December thirty-first.” Lenore spoke with a certainty that surprised even herself. She didn’t know how, but she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Duke nodded, standing next to her and looking out at the water. “Indeed it is.” He turned to her, a small smile on his face. “Do you remember anything about how you celebrated the New Year in life?”

Lenore was lucky she didn’t gasp. When he had said that, memories began to flow into her head. They felt more like fantasies than anything. Memories of fantasies, thoughts that stuck with her but were never real.

She had put her lips on Annabel Lee’s. She had kissed that woman. And she enjoyed it.

Looking back, Lenore wasn’t sure if she wanted the memories to be real or not. Was the idea too good to be true? Was she a little bit… scared of Annabel deep down? She didn’t know what she felt.

She finally opened her mouth and responded to Duke: “No, nothing special that I can remember.” It was a lie, a blatant lie. If her New Years Kiss with Annabel was real, then there was no way that ‘nothing special’ happened in any of the New Years Days in her life. But she wasn’t ready to tell him about all that.

She couldn’t forget the scene that night, regardless of whether it was a dream or not. Her and Annabel, sitting together, looking out a window as they waited for the bell to toll, signaling the coming of a new year. Lenore had quietly, uncertainly, asked if she could kiss Annabel when the clock struck midnight. Annabel had never really kissed anyone before that moment, and Lenore believed that it would be better to kiss her than her future husband who she likely wouldn’t care for.

And when the clock struck midnight and the bell rang, Lenore Vandernacht and Annabel Lee Whitlock had put their lips on each other’s, creating a memory that felt too fantastical to be true.