#i think i love it so much because its just so disorienting

[illyrianbitch]

Are We Still Friends? — Part Six

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: The night of the gratitude banquet arrives. Your life will never be the same after it.

Warnings: insecurity and overthinking, deep introspection, reader processing every feeling ever, IC friendship dynamics, Az is in his jealousy era, reader chewing him out, a kiss, a confession and more!!

Word Count: 12.6k (happy finale!)

Part Five | Series Masterlist

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

The days slipped by quickly. You spent most of them in your head, avoiding social interactions except for the ones you deliberately made time for—helping Adrin pick out his clothes for the banquet and shopping for a dress with Mor and Feyre. Azriel had been busy. You hadn’t seen him.

You felt guilty for being relieved. But you were. You couldn’t handle seeing him. 

It hit you last night, after Mor dropped off your dress—neatly wrapped in its protective bag—and you crawled into bed. When your gaze landed on your wrist, on the hair tie still there, everything suddenly became clear. You couldn’t run anymore. You couldn’t ignore it.

You were in love with Azriel.

There was a certain discomfort that came with realizing you had been walking through your life half-blind. Like a fog had lifted, revealing a path you had already been traveling, except now you could see it for what it was. And you wondered—how long had this been true? How long had you been this blind?

All these years of knowing Azriel, of loving him in some way—platonically, protectively, whatever it was—you had never truly seen it. But now that you did, you couldn’t unsee it. And it ached. Deeply.

Your fingers pressed absently against your sternum, rubbing small circles over the bone as you made your way down the hall. Over and over, like it might ease it. Like you could massage the feeling away.

You knew better.

It didn’t subside. If anything, it settled deeper, curling into your ribs. Lingered. Even as you reached the kitchen—and faltered.

Because you heard him.

A quiet hum, soft and unhurried, the way he always did on slow mornings when he thought no one was listening. And his shadows—they slipped past the doorframe, curling like wisps of ink, reaching. They knew you were there. They always did.

You thought about leaving.

But before you could turn, the humming stopped. A beat of silence. Then—

“Y/n?”

You exhaled sharply, bracing yourself before stepping inside.

Azriel was already watching you, his expression unreadable for a moment before it shifted into something softer. Familiar.

“Good morning,” you murmured.

He smiled—small, easy, like nothing between you had changed. Like your world hadn’t tilted on its axis.

He lifted a cup in offering. “Tea?”

You accepted it with a quiet thanks, leaning against the counter as Azriel took a seat, his own cup cradled loosely between his fingers.

Silences like this weren’t unusual. They were often comfortable—the kind of quiet that settled when you were both still waking up and bracing for the day ahead. But this morning, it was different.

Azriel glanced at you. “You okay?”

You were almost tempted to laugh at the question, but you suppressed it.

You nodded, exhaling. “Yeah. Just… lots on my mind.”

He hummed in understanding. His gaze had yet to leave yours.

A beat passed. Another. You shifted your weight against the counter, eyes flicking down to your cup. “You ever feel like you have too many thoughts, and it’s just… disorienting?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I know exactly what you mean.”

Another stretch of silence. It wasn’t quite tense, but it wasn’t easy, either. Then, after a moment, he cleared his throat. “So, tonight…” He hesitated. “I was wondering if maybe you’d want to get something beforehand. I’m assuming the finger food will be too extravagant for us, like usual.”

You hesitated. His words were fumbling a little, but you didn’t think too much about it. You had been overthinking everything lately. 

“I would, but I’m actually bringing someone tonight,” you said. “I’ll be waiting for him.”

Azriel stilled. “Oh.” His head tilted slightly. “You’re bringing a date?”

“It’s not exactly a date. I just asked him to come with me.”

Azriel nodded slowly. “Who?”

“Adrin. I invited him the other day.”

“Adrin,” he repeated, like he was testing the name on his tongue. “Madja’s apprentice?”

"That's the one."

You could practically see the wheels turning in his head, but he said nothing at first, just watched you, his shadows flickering across the floor like they knew something you didn’t.

He studied you like he was waiting for something more. When nothing came, he frowned, his voice turning cautious. “And he’s coming with you… tonight?”

“Yeah,” you replied, “I thought it’d be nice. He’s helped us before. He's nice.”

Azriel didn’t say anything, but you saw it—in the way his breath hitched, in the flicker of hesitation in his eyes. He had something to say.

You exhaled sharply. “Okay. What is it?”

His gaze shifted, like he was considering denying it.

“Hm?” he hummed, feigning innocence. “Nothing.”

You leveled him with a look. “Az.” A beat. “Just spit it out, yeah?”

A frown tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t know. It just feels... strange, don’t you think? I mean, inviting him to something like this?”

You bristled at the words, at the insinuation that you needed a reason to bring someone. Needed to justify it to him.

 “Az, it’s just a regular banquet, and I wanted to invite someone. That’s not a crime.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

"Then what is this judgmental look you have?" Your voice came out more defensive than you meant. “I’ve known him for a while. It’s not like he’s a stranger.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like it’s just some casual get-together, either.”

You hated that this conversation made you wish for something else. Made you wish it was a date. A real one. That tonight was light and exciting—the kind of night that made you blush, that made you feel wanted. The kind of night that made you feel like someone falling in love, not someone realizing they already had. So deeply, so entirely unreciprocated that you hadn’t even noticed it had happened.

“I’m not making some huge statement by inviting him. It’s just a banquet.” You swallowed, forcing the irritation down. “A banquet to show appreciation for those who help us. I thought it’d be nice. He’s helped us before, you know that.”

You thought back to what Azriel had said about not wanting to be the last one standing, like love, companionship, was a prize to win before someone else did. A race. And maybe, mentioning you were bringing someone made him defensive, made him feel like he needed to be looking again. The thought made something bitter rise in you. Something akin to embarrassment. 

Azriel didn’t reply right away. When he finally spoke, there was a resignation in his voice. "Right. I do know that."

You couldn’t find the right words to reply, so you settled for silence once more. You finished your tea, rinsed out the cup, and set it in the sink. You felt his eyes on you as you turned and told him, “I think, for now, maybe we should stay out of each other’s personal lives. Not comment on any romantic prospects.”

It sounded like a good idea—like a boundary you could hold, something to protect yourself.

But Azriel’s expression flickered, a discomfort settling across his face. “So Adrin is a romantic prospect?”

You huffed, shaking your head. “Well, that's not–that’s not the point.” You pressed your fingers to your temples, willing away the irritation clawing at you. Then you dropped your hand, looking at him again. “Way to pick and choose what you hear, by the way.”

"I'm just clarifying."

"Look. I know I was right about Selene. But I think we have very different approaches to our personal lives.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

You tilted your head slightly, studying him. "Well, I do. It might be better for us to keep our opinions to ourselves."

Azriel blinked. Then, quietly—“I don't want you to keep your opinions to yourself.”

Your breath caught.

His voice was careful, his fingers curling slightly around his cup. “Your opinion is the most important thing to me.”

And then your chest tightened. Azriel couldn’t say things like that to you.

The words slipped out before you could stop them. “Maybe it shouldn’t be.”

Silence.

Azriel’s grip tightened around his cup.

You swallowed. “I should go.”

And with Azriel’s eyes still following your every movement, you left— the ache in your chest even deeper than before.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

The entrance to the banquet hall was a grand display of velvet-draped archways and soft golden faelight. You spotted Adrin just beyond the doors, hands tucked neatly behind his back, his casual, loose, linen clothes traded for deep navy formalwear. He looked up as you approached, a large, bright smile forming.

"You clean up well," you teased, stopping beside him. "I could’ve picked you up from your apartment. Like a proper date."

Adrin huffed a quiet laugh. "And risk making the citizens of Velaris burn with jealousy over how we look together? I’d never be so cruel."

You rolled your eyes and laughed. The lightness of the sound surprised you. "I suppose we do look rather stunning."

His gaze lingered for a moment before he said, softer, "You do. That dress is quite beautiful."

You barely resisted the urge to fidget, instead smoothing your hand over the fabric. 

Mor and Feyre had helped you get ready at the river house, the way they always did before events like these. The three of you, despite everything—despite mates, despite growing older, despite how much life had changed—still made time for it. A tradition you refused to let go of. It was something sacred, in a way. The girlhood none of you had ever really gotten to experience, stolen by war or circumstance.

You suspected Mor had noticed you were in your head more than usual, that something about tonight felt different. She kept checking in, little glances through the mirror, hesitation when you’d asked her to help pin your hair up. Her fingers had lingered as she tucked the final strands into place, ensuring the hairpiece she used hid the infamous hair tie beneath it. She hadn’t asked, but you could feel the question lingering in the way she looked at you.

“Mor chose it for me,” you said, offering Adrin a playful curtsy. "I’ll let her know her taste is still undefeated."

A few more guests drifted past.

"This home is beautiful," Adrin murmured, his gaze sweeping over the high ceilings and intricate paintings covering the marble walls— all painted by Feyre herself. "I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Your High Lord and High Lady have elegant tastes. I must admit, I feel slightly out of place."

"It’s just another event," you said lightly. "Don’t let the elegance scare you. Most of the guests already know you, anyway. The ones that don’t will have the pleasure tonight. Nothing to stress about."

Adrin exhaled, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. "I wouldn’t say I’m stressed. Out of practice seems more fitting. I haven’t been to many events like this."

"Oh? Does Thesan not throw many?"

He tilted his head. "Some. But even then, I wouldn’t attend. Not everyone is as close to their High Lord as you."

You blinked. "I never thought of it like that."

Adrin smiled faintly. "It’s not a bad thing. It’s quite beautiful, really. It humanizes Rhysand—far more than the stories some might hear about Night."

For you, Rhysand had never been just High Lord—he was Rhys, the friend who stole the last pastry off your plate just to be an ass, who gave the best advice when you needed it most, who once drunkenly tried to shove more marshmallows into his mouth than Cassian. You knew he was powerful. Knew that the weight of his title was immense. But it was easy to forget. Easy to take for granted just how rare it was to have a ruler who felt like family. A ruler who was family.

“I appreciate your open mind. It’s not easy for many people to see past Rhys’s past.”

Adrin’s eyes softened. “I can see the heart beneath the power.”

You glanced around the hall, watching as laughter and conversation rippled through the guests. When you turned back, you caught Adrin scanning the crowd as well. You took the spare moment to examine him further.

Adrin had the kind of beauty that belonged to the quiet hush of morning. His golden-brown skin carried a softness—not kissed by the sun, but by first light, the gentle warmth before the world fully woke. Vitiligo traced around his right eye, trailing down his cheek, leaving a streak of white in his dark curls. Even his eyelashes and brow were dusted pale. There was nothing severe about him, nothing unreadable.

You wondered how many admirers he must have. How many people in the streets of your city turned to gawk when he passed. How many hearts he’d left broken when he left his home and moved to Velaris.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” you said, drawing his attention back to you. When his warm eyes met yours, you continued. “What made you come here? From Dawn?"

He titled his head, taking a moment to collect his thoughts.

"When I heard that Night and Dawn were fostering more exchanges—trade, apprenticeships—I jumped at the chance," Adrin said. "It seemed perfect. It’s been an honor to train under Madja, to learn from one of the most talented healers of all Fae alike." He shot you a look. "I have you to thank for that opportunity."

You raised a brow. "Me?"

"I heard it was your diplomacy that strengthened those relations between our courts," he said. "That made Velaris known for the oasis of opportunity it now is, rather than the secret gem of Night it once was."

You hummed, a smile pulling at your lips. Even now, after all these years, it still felt nice—validating—to be acknowledged for your work. For the vision you had continually strived to achieve for your court, for Prythian.

"Well then," you mused, "you’re welcome."

It was fascinating, really—how simple his answer had been. That he had made the choice to leave home with such certainty. You didn’t think you could ever do the same.

"Do you miss the Dawn court?" 

Adrin exhaled, thoughtful. "Yes, but not how you might think. I rather love change." He glanced at you, curiosity flickering in his expression now. "Do you?"

"What—miss Dawn?"

He laughed. "No. Do you like change?"

The answer should have been easy. You’d never been afraid of new things—your entire life had been built on pushing forward, on carving out space where there was none. But lately, change felt like something different. Like something looming. Like something you weren’t sure you wanted.

You fought the urge to glance over your shoulder, to scan the crowd for a familiar figure wreathed in shadows. You hadn’t seen him since this morning.

"No, actually," you admitted. "I despise it. I know it’s necessary for growth, but… I like things the way they are. I don’t think I’d want to leave my court. Not for long."

Adrin nodded. "With a life like this, I’m sure I wouldn’t either."

You let the words settle between you for a moment before exhaling. "Come on. Let me introduce you around."

Adrin extended an arm, eyes gleaming with humor. "Lead the way, shepherd of change. I am your sheep for the night."

You chuckled, looping your arm through his as you stepped into the light.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Adrin had slipped easily into conversation with Cassian and Nesta, asking them about their mating ceremony with a curiosity so good-natured even Nesta had warmed to him. You’d been content just standing there, watching as he made the connections you’d hoped he would.

When he left to get you both drinks, you lingered, half-listening to Cassian’s exaggerated retelling of something Nesta had told him from a recent book of hers. Your eyes drifted across the scene—the candlelit tables, the swirling gowns, the food laid out in delicate arrangements that looked more like art than a meal. Unlike most elaborate events Rhysand and Feyre threw, tonight had hors d'oeuvres that actually appealed to you. You made a mental note to try some of the rosemary and honey tartlets once your stomach felt less uneasy.

You let your gaze drift once more, scanning the crowd without much thought—until you saw him.

Azriel.

For a second, everything else faded. The music, the conversation, the clinking of glasses. The world narrowed to the space between you and him.

He looked good—unfairly so. He’d cleaned up well, the sharp lines of his suit making him look effortlessly put together, dark hair styled just enough to look like he hadn’t tried at all. 

If Adrin had been handsome in a way that was warm, inviting, then Azriel was beautiful in a way that stole the breath from your lungs. It was gut-wrenching, disarming, the kind of beauty that felt borderline sacred.

And gods, the way he was looking at you. Not just looking. Watching.

Your stomach flipped, something deep inside you tightening painfully. The air between you stretched thin. Humming. Waiting. It made your fingers twitch at your sides, made your feet shift like they might carry you forward without your permission.

And yet, somehow, you couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think—

“Here you are.”

The moment shattered. You blinked, the noise of the banquet rushing back in as Adrin reappeared at your side, pressing a glass of champagne into your hand. You took it with an appreciative smile, downing half of it in one go and ignoring the way your fingers trembled around the delicate flute.

Adrin turned back to Nesta, launching into another carefully respectful question, something about her Valkyrie training, but you barely heard it.

Not until Adrin nudged you, drawing you back. “Should I be concerned?” he murmured. 

You blinked. “About?”

“That the Shadowsinger is currently glaring at me like he wants me dead. Have I offended him?”

Confused, you followed his gaze—

Azriel was still watching. Only now, the look was different. The sharpness of it, the intensity—it was aimed at Adrin.

A full glare.

You barely swallowed down the sound of disbelief that threatened to escape. What the hell was his problem?

Heat rose to your face. You forced yourself to breathe, to roll your shoulders back. “It’s nothing,” you muttered, waving it off. “Don’t worry about it.”

But when you turned back, Nesta was looking at you. A direct, knowing look. You glanced back at Azriel, still staring, then back at her. She knew.

You gently brushed your champagne flute back into Adrin’s hands. “Excuse me for a minute?”

"Of course," Adrin said easily, though concern flickered in his warm gaze. Nesta took the opportunity to step in, calling over Gwyn—a plan you’d both briefly gone over before the night began.

"Adrin," she said, "let me introduce you to my friend and fellow Valkyrie."

Adrin’s voice drifted after you as you stepped away.

“Oh, by the Mother, is that an Invoking Stone?” His breath caught, reverent. “Beautiful—I’ve only ever read about them.”

You didn’t need to turn to know Gwyn was smiling, could already picture the soft pink dusting her cheeks. But the moment barely registered, drowned out by the weight of the gaze still burning into you.

You had more pressing matters.

You didn’t spare Azriel a glance before grabbing his forearm and dragging him into the nearest empty room.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Azriel barely moved as you pulled him in, letting you manhandle him like a bag of heavy rocks. His brows had only just begun to furrow when you spun on him, still gripping his wrist. His skin was warm beneath your fingers, the corded muscles of his forearm shifting under your grip—but you refused to let that distract you.

Not now.

It took you half a second to realize where you had dragged him. A library. A new one, judging by the scent of fresh wood and the pristine bookshelves lining the walls. You hadn’t even known this room existed. Your gaze flicked over the tall windows, the deep blue rug, the shelves still waiting to be filled. You hadn’t explored the house since the construction finished, too preoccupied with—

No. Focus.

You turned back to Azriel, finally letting go of his wrist. His wings twitched slightly, and his shadows curled at his feet like smoke, their edges sharper than usual.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you demanded, crossing your arms.

Azriel blinked, his head tilting slightly. “What?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“No,” he said flatly. “Or else I wouldn’t have asked.”

A heavy breath caught in your throat as the words lodged themselves somewhere between your teeth and the pit of your stomach. Azriel’s voice was cool and even. It only made you angrier.

“Are you serious right now?”

His hazel eyes studied you.  A flicker of something passed through them, quick as a shadow in candlelight, but then it was gone.

Fine.

You squared your shoulders. “I’ll spell it out. Why are you glaring at Adrin like that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I wasn’t glaring.”

You forced a breath out of your chest—through your nose, just to keep yourself from losing it. A sharp, humorless laugh left you. “If that wasn’t a glare, I’d hate to see what you classify as one.”

His expression didn’t change, but his wings tucked in a little tighter, hands flexing at his sides. You noted that his shadows had stilled, barely a ripple in the air now. They’d decided to be a quiet, unassuming audience, it seemed.

“I have known you long enough to recognize a glare, Azriel. Stop it.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

You huffed, your fingers twitching at your sides. “I don’t know what the hell your problem is, but you need to fix it. Now.”

Azriel’s jaw ticked, and for the first time, his expression hardened. He remained silent.

“If this is about me bringing someone and you being here alone, then you need to get over it,” you said.

“That’s not it.”

“Then what is it?”

Silence once more.

His shadows stirred again, coiling around his boots, floating across the ground beneath you two. You could see the muscle in his jaw tightening, but he didn’t speak.

You sighed, pressing your fingers to your temples before meeting his gaze again. “Okay, well, whatever it is, I need you to find the reason, and I need you to swallow it. And if you can’t swallow it, I need you to shove it so far up your ass that you’re too focused on the discomfort to glare at him like that again.”

His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to respond, but nothing came out. His eyes flickered, scanning your face. Then they glazed over, as if he’d been pulled deeper into his own mind.

It didn’t stop you from continuing.

“Adrin is a guest here,” you went on, voice firm. “I invited him. He is kind, he is nice, and he hasn't done anything to you. In fact, he has helped you. So do not treat him like shit.” You stepped closer, tilting your head. “You haven’t even bothered to talk to him. The least you can do is not look at him like you’re imagining his head on a spike.”

Azriel’s gaze met yours, his voice low as he finally spoke, “I just think it’s rude that your date isn’t paying attention to you. He’s had his eyes on Cassian more than you tonight.”

You blinked, disbelief tightening your chest. “What?”

“You heard me.”

You scoffed. “Adrin has been perfectly attentive and respectful. What, did you expect him to have his hands all over me? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Azriel didn’t respond, but his shadows gained speed as they curled closer to his boots—like they were restless now, waiting for an order.

“This event is supposed to be about harmony,” you continued, “You’re embarrassing this court. You’re embarrassing me.”

That seemed to land. His lips pressed into a thin line, and something flickered in his expression—something raw, something almost like guilt.

“Do not give me a reason to be mad at you,” you added, voice low. “Because I will take it. You have no idea.”

A long beat of silence. Then—

“…Alright,” Az muttered. “Fine. I’m sorry. That was not my intention.”

The apology came so easily. You narrowed your eyes, studying him. He was still too quiet. But for now, you’d take it.

“Good. So, we go out there, and if you interact with him at all, you need to be pleasant. Maybe even smile.” You tilted your head. “And if you can’t do that, at least fix your face.”

Azriel blinked, brow twitching. “My face?”

“Yes. The one you’re currently wearing. You look like I just asked you to kill yourself.”

“I’m not wearing a face,” he said dryly.

“Yes, you are.”

“This is just my face. I don’t have many faces.”

“Well, find a new one.”

The sharpness faded from his eyes and the frustration in your chest loosened slightly, giving way to something else—exhaustion, maybe. 

“Okay, okay,” he said after a moment. “Fine.”

You nodded once, steadying yourself before turning for the door.

Right before you stepped out, you glanced over your shoulder. “Fix the face.”

Azriel exhaled through his nose, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “Consider it fixed.”

Then, he gave you a large grin—so obviously forced it made you cringe.

You rolled your eyes. “That is not what I meant.”

Still, you smiled despite yourself. A little amused, a little tired. And for a brief moment, before you turned away, you swore you saw a real smile flicker across his face, too. Soft and fleeting. It made your heart skip.

Before it could beat faster, you left.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Azriel found you again an hour later.

You sensed him before you saw him—the shift in the air, the way the room seemed to settle in his presence. Then his shadows, curling toward you before slithering back, as if unsure if they were welcome.

You weren’t even sure why you’d walked away from Adrin and your friends. Maybe you needed space. Maybe you needed to breathe. It wasn’t until you stepped back—from the conversation, from the laughter, from the gentle touches shared between lovers—that you realized.

This was the first time you’d noticed. The first time it had stung.

How alone you were.

You didn’t look as Azriel approached. Instead, you fixated on the guests around you, on their easy smiles and warm hands clasped together. It would hurt to look at him. You already knew.

And yet, you felt him watching. Felt the heat of him beside you.

It was sad. All of it.

You’d assumed falling for your best friend would be a gift. Imagined it would be easy, uncomplicated—a love that came with a quiet understanding, someone who knew you better than you knew yourself. It sounded simple enough. You would know, and they would know, and that would be it. The kind of love that people dreamed of, that stories were made of.

It was funny, in a painfully poetic way, how reality differed from daydreams. You almost wanted to revisit every love story you’d ever read, to pick them apart, to see where they’d lied—where they’d dared to be hopeful.

A shadow curled at your wrist before slinking away. 

"Do you have another complaint for me?" you murmured, just loud enough for Azriel to hear over the music. “Maybe feeling bothered that Adrin isn’t slobbering at my feet like a hound desperate for food?”

Az huffed a quiet breath. "No."

Your lips pressed together. You wanted to hold on to the annoyance, to the way he’d been needling at you all evening, but the weight of the room was different now.

Azriel must have known it too, because after a pause, he shifted slightly, extending a hand toward you. "Dance with me?"

Your gaze flicked to his outstretched hand, then back to his face. His expression was carefully neutral, but his wings… His wings were tucked in tight, the only real tell of his discomfort. You knew he didn’t love events like these. The crowds, the attention. He wore it well—carried himself like he belonged, like nothing touched him—but you knew better.

And that’s why, despite everything, you sighed, placing your hand in his.

His shadows stirred again, wrapping briefly around your wrist before dissipating. Pleased with your choice.

"Your perfect date seems to be enjoying himself."

You felt it again—that ache in your chest.

Your eyes flicked over Azriel's shoulder, landing on Adrin. He was still standing alongside Gwyn, but the two had been joined by Lucien and Elain as well. Adrin was laughing at something Lucien was saying. He looked… comfortable. Bright. Perfect.

Perfect in the way that should have made your heart skip, that should have made you feel something when he smiled. But you felt… nothing. Just awareness, a passing observation. And then your gaze drifted back to Azriel, to the sharp lines of his face, the way the faelight caught in his eyes. Made something in them simmer.

"Not perfect," you murmured.

You didn’t like perfection. It was too neat, too curated—like something fragile on display, meant to be admired but never touched. It didn’t crack, didn’t bleed. And you didn’t want that. You never had.

"I wouldn’t want perfect anyway," you added, glancing briefly at Adrin and then back to Azriel. "Perfect isn't real."

Azriel said nothing at first, but his grip on your hand tightened briefly. You wondered if he understood.

His other hand rested against your waist as he led you through the steps. You felt his touch like a burning mark, your heart beating faster at the way he stroked his thumb along the fabric of your dress. The tension from earlier still lingered between you—thin, stretched taut. You wondered if he still wanted to bring up Adrin once more. But instead, Azriel said, "I didn’t get to tell you earlier, with you scolding me and all."

You rolled your eyes, casting your gaze aside.

"Which was very warranted," Azriel added, the corner of his mouth twitching as he leaned in further. "But, you are… breathtaking."

Your eyes snapped back to his. The way he said it—quiet, certain, like it was fact, undeniable and absolute—made something shift beneath your ribs. You forced yourself to keep breathing, to move past the moment before it could settle too deeply.

"Thank you. Mor helped me pick the dress."

Azriel guided you into a spin, and when you turned back to face him, he said, "I wasn’t referring to your dress."

His hand found yours, fingers lacing through before you could think too much about it. It was an easy thing, effortless—like it was second nature to him.  "I was referring to the person wearing it."

Your pulse stuttered. How could anyone else compare to this? How were you ever going to find someone who could make you feel like this?

The thought unsettled you. Maybe because it was the first time you let yourself acknowledge it. Maybe because you were starting to think he felt it too.

Because you knew Azriel. Knew him well enough to sense the shift—not just in yourself, but in him. There was something new in the way he watched you, something careful, deliberate. At first, you thought it was guilt, that he was still making up for the way he hurt you. But it was more than that. The way he looked at you now—really looked at you—it made you wonder if this realization had struck him too.

But you had seen him with Mor. With Elain. With Gwyn. You had seen the way he watched them, the way he softened, the way he held himself differently in their presence. And never—not once—had he looked at you like that.

So maybe this feeling was yours alone. Something to swallow like a bitter tonic, a remedy that only worsened the sickness.

The dance was slowing. You saw it in the way couples began to separate, the way the musicians readied to shift into something new. You and Azriel stilled, as if time itself was reluctant to move on.

His eyes traced over your face. "It’s different," he murmured. "Seeing your entire face like this."

Your brows furrowed slightly, and his lips twitched, like he knew you didn’t fully understand. Then his free hand lifted—hesitating for just a second—before his fingers brushed lightly against the side of your face, just above your ear, where your hair had been pinned back.

"You usually let it fall forward," he said. "I’m used to you hiding behind it."

You didn’t know what to say to that. You didn’t know what to do with the way he was looking at you. You wondered if he knew how much this pained you.

And when the music came to an end, you all but scrambled away from him, seeking out Adrin again.

Adrin told you about everything he’d learned from Lucien—the invitation the Vanserra had extended to explore the Day Court. Autumn too, if Adrin wished. You tried to listen. Tried to pay attention. To ignore the burning gaze of Azriel, to pretend you hadn’t seen the way his expression faltered when you pulled away.

You stayed by Adrin’s side all night, introducing him to more court members. Always finding your way back to Cassian, Nesta, and Gwyn. But no matter how much space you put between you and Azriel, you felt him.

Always, you felt him.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

The banquet had begun to settle into its last echoes of laughter and music, guests beginning their slow trickle home.You stood with Adrin near the entrance, the golden glow of the banquet spilling onto the front gardens.

He turned to you, his expression softened in the dim light. “Thank you,” he murmured, and before you could ask for what, he leaned in, pressing a warm, fleeting kiss to your cheek. When he pulled back, there was something earnest in his gaze. “For sharing the night with a friend. For showing me all these connections I might not have made on my own.”

You smiled, something fond curling in your chest. “You would’ve made them eventually.”

“Maybe. But I like the way it happened tonight.”

“Thank you for keeping me company,” you told him. “You don’t know how much I needed it.”

With one last smile, he turned and disappeared down the path, his silhouette vanishing into the dark.

You exhaled, rolling your shoulders before making your way back inside. The warmth hit you immediately—the lingering energy of the night still alive in the laughter, the flickering faelights, the press of familiar faces.

Your family. 

Rhys stood at the center of it, Nyx in his arms, tossing him into the air. The babe let out a shriek of joy, his chubby hands clapping together as he was caught again with ease.

“Bachelor of the evening,” Cassian declared, raising a half-empty glass. “In all his two feet and six inch glory.”

Nyx, unaware of the meaning but basking in the attention, beamed a chubby smile, curling into his father’s chest. 

You watched them, something warm and tight settling in your chest, even as Cassian snorted at his own words, making a joke about another six inch glory. But still—still—there was something else stirring within you. That restlessness in your bones. That all-too-familiar, infamous ache.

Before you could think twice, you turned, feet carrying you swiftly down the halls, toward the back of the manor.

The stone steps were cool beneath you as you descended into the garden. You exhaled, lowering yourself onto the edge of a stair, forearms braced against your knees. The air was cooler here, quieter, the sky stretched wide above you—clear and endless.

Behind you, the door creaked open. Light footsteps. Familiar.

Mor lowered herself onto the step beside you, the silk of her dress brushing against your arm. She didn’t say anything at first, just settled into the silence with you.

Then, gently, “You okay?”

Your thoughts were loud, pressing in from every angle, twisting over themselves until they became nothing but static. You let out a laugh, dry and brittle. “My head physically hurts from how much I’ve been thinking.”

Mor nodded, tilting her head back to look at the sky. “And have you come to any conclusions?”

“I might not be as patient as I once thought.”

Mor laughed, the sound carried off by the night breeze. “What makes you say that?”

You turned to her, lips pressing together before you admitted, “I was tempted to throttle Az in front of everyone.”

Mor’s lips quirked up, the faint remnants of her red lipstick catching the glow of the faelights through the windows. You were sure there were countless champagne flutes and wine glasses that now bore the mark of her lips, a kiss print of her perfect lipstick. There was something sweet about how the color was faded now. Years ago, it would still be perfect—because years ago, Mor would’ve excused herself to touch up her makeup almost every half hour. She didn’t do that anymore. These days, Emerie held her attention, made her forget anything other than the night unfolding around her.

“Not interested in adding to your growing reputation as a public street fighter?” Mor teased. “I would’ve helped you drag him to the street.”

You shot her a scowl. “Not funny,” you muttered. Then, hesitantly, “Do people really think that?”

She snorted, shaking her head. “No. I’m messing with you. But imagine how fun that would be.”

“We have different definitions of fun.”

“And that’s what makes us such great friends.”

Mor leaned in, looping her arm through yours, pressing it to her chest as she rested her head on your shoulder. The cool metal of her jewelry sent a shiver through you. You resisted the urge to frown at the large, chunky bracelet on her wrist—the one she’d taken from Selene. You’d already rolled your eyes at it earlier in the night, warning her it was probably cursed. She had only shrugged and said that nothing related to her could be bad luck—and that it matched her gown perfectly. She wasn’t wrong. It did.

You hummed, amused, and rested your head against hers.

“So what did Az do?” she asked after a moment.

“I don’t know what got into him. He was so rude tonight.”

“To you?”

“To Adrin,” you clarified, huffing. “Gods, it infuriated me. I had to scold him like some child before I lost my own mind.”

Mor lifted her head slightly. “Is that where you pulled him off to?”

You turned just enough to meet her gaze. “You saw that?”

She sat up, stretching her legs out in front of her. “I’m very observant.”

“Nosy is the word I’d use.”

Mor nudged you with a laugh. Then she shifted, pulling her arm away as she readjusted her position. “Do you know why it bothered you so much?”

Your brows knit together. “It was rude,” you deadpanned. “Adrin was a guest. Az had no right acting like some pompous guard dog.”

Mor nodded solemnly. “Yeah. Maybe we need to get him retrained.”

Despite yourself, you smiled, a quick image flashing in your mind of Azriel’s unimpressed face whenever one of you made a dog joke at his expense. Even the ones about his loyalty. Not that you could blame him—you probably wouldn’t appreciate the comparison either.

“It was also a bit offensive that Az paid more attention to me tonight than he has for months,” you admitted. “Not even to me. To Adrin. I don’t know why that bothered me so much, aside from it being bad manners.”

Mor gave you a knowing look. “Can I ask you something? But you have to promise you won’t get mad.”

You narrowed your eyes. “When you say stuff like that, I don’t want to promise anything.”

She pouted slightly. “Please.”

You sighed, turning to face her more fully. The new position left you exposed to the chill, no longer shielded by your hunched posture. Your knees brushed, the fabric of your dress rustling against hers. “Fine. Tell me.”

Mor hesitated, studying you carefully. Then, softly, “Do you think it bothers you because you want him to pay attention to you this much… normally? And not just when you bring a date?”

You dropped your gaze to your lap, to your fidgeting fingers. “I mean, maybe. Yeah.”

Mor craned her neck, trying to meet your averted gaze. “Maybe because you have feelings for him?”

Your head snapped up so fast you were surprised you didn’t break something. Though, based on the sharp pull in your neck, you might have strained a muscle.

“What?” 

The sympathetic look Mor offered you was enough to draw the ache in your chest back to full strength. 

“Am I wrong?”

You could’ve lied. Could’ve shaken your head, laughed it off, brushed past it like it was nothing. And maybe Mor would’ve let you. Not because she let things go easily, but because she knew you—knew when to push and when to step back.

But you didn’t lie.

Because the weight of it, the truth of it, had been pressing down on you for too long.

“Maybe,” you admitted quietly.

The words settled over you like a breaking wave. The minute they were out in the open, everything rushed back—every ache, every stolen glance, every frustration and lingering sadness. The realization of it felt like a stone lodged behind your ribs, pressing into you from the inside. Your throat burned. Your eyes stung.

You swallowed hard, but it did nothing to push down the lump forming there.

Then your lips quivered. And that was enough to make you break.

You turned away, hands pressing against your face as a shaky breath left you.

“Gods, Mor,” you mumbled, voice unsteady. “I feel so dramatic. I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Oh, honey.” She placed a hand on your shoulder, gently squeezing to call your attention back to her. When you met her eyes, something flickered across her features. “Are you crying?”

“Not yet,” you sniffed. 

She blinked. Once, twice. Then said, “Give me a minute, okay? I’ll be right back. And then I want you to tell me everything.”

You didn’t question it, just nodded as she disappeared inside.

When she returned, her presence was quieter. She sank beside you, draping a shawl over your shoulders—one that matched the color of her dress. Her shawl. And on her own form, she wore one in deep purple. Emerie’s, you assumed. You hadn’t seen her wear it before.

You noticed, too, that Mor’s jewelry was gone. The rings, the collection of bracelets. She tended to do that when she was overstimulated by the sounds—when the weight of metal felt unbearable against her skin.

You tipped your head back, staring at the sky. No more tears fell, but they lingered, heavy behind your eyes. The lump in your throat was smaller now. Bearable. You swallowed against it, against everything that wanted to rise with it.

“I was content,” you said finally. You inhaled deeply, swore you heard your ribs rattle with the effort, and turned to look at Mor. “With being single. With waiting for whatever was supposed to happen. I never thought I’d be the last one standing, but I didn’t mind. It never felt like something was missing.”

Mor’s brown eyes scanned your face, a small crease forming between her brows. “And now?”

Now.

Now, you wondered if you had never felt that ache because you had been loved so deeply by people like Azriel. Loved in a way that had made you think—foolishly, blindly—that it was enough. That it would always be enough.

But the words tangled in your throat before you could voice them. Your mind was funny like that sometimes—so many thoughts, so fast, so loud, and yet, when you reached for them, they recoiled. Shy. Timid. As if they, too, were embarrassed by their own existence.

“Now, I feel like something was stolen from me.”

Mor blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I always thought…” You paused, digging through your mind, clawing for the right words. “I thought love would feel different. That I would know when it happened. That it would be this big, overwhelming thing—fireworks, explosions, something cinematic.” You shook your head. “But with Azriel, it never felt like that. It felt… calm.” Your voice softened. “Like home.”

Mor’s expression gentled, but she didn’t speak. Not yet. And you were grateful for it, because now the words were spilling out, untamed and raw.

“And I hate that I didn’t get to figure that out on my own,” you admitted, your voice cracking with the confession. “That Selene and this ridiculous situation forced me to see it before I was ready. I didn’t get to sit across from him at breakfast, watching him drink his tea, and realize—slowly, comfortably—that this could be the rest of my life.” You swallowed hard. “Instead, it feels like everyone else saw it before I did. Like my feelings aren’t even my own. I feel… embarrassed.”

Mor’s brows knit together, and she reached for your hand. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You know that, right?”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Doesn’t matter. It feels that way.”

And maybe that was the worst part. That something so personal, so yours, had been made into something for everyone else to witness. That, maybe, they had already formed their own conclusions.

“I’ve never really dated.” The words felt foreign, like they didn’t belong in this conversation. But they did. “Not really. I never searched for it, never felt like I needed to.”

Mor traced her thumb in slow circles against your knuckles.

“I thought it was because I was happy. Because I was fulfilled, platonically. That I never ached for a mate or a partner because I was already surrounded by love. But now—” Your throat tightened. “Now, I wonder if it was just because of him. If I loved Azriel this whole time and never noticed. If my heart already knew there was nowhere else to look.”

Mor’s grip on your hand tightened.

“But he looked,” you continued, barely above a whisper. “Azriel has looked.” You swallowed hard. “Gods, Mor—he even looked to you.”

Mor’s lips parted slightly, guilt flickering in her expression before she caught herself. “That was—”

“I know,” you cut in. “It’s not about that. It’s not about you. It’s just—” You exhaled sharply, rubbing your temple. “I’ve never been this aware of myself before. My shortcomings. My inexperience. I’ve never thought about any of it because I never had to.”

But now, every interaction with Azriel felt different. Now, every glance, every touch, every conversation—changed.

And gods, maybe, just maybe, people would think Selene was right.

Maybe they would think you had pushed Azriel away from her because you were jealous, because you had always wanted him for yourself.

You looked at Mor. “I didn’t talk to Az about Selene because I was jealous. I swear, Mor. It wasn’t like that.”

Mor shushed you. “I know.”

“But what if he doesn’t? What if everyone—”

“No one else matters.”

Mor’s gaze softened. She brought her free hand to your bicep, her palm warm as she ran it gently down your skin. The cool night air clung to you, but beneath it, you still burned. From your thoughts, from your grief, from the overwhelming realization that had come too soon.

“Y/n,” she said after a moment. “Do you truly think Az doesn’t feel the same way?”

“Yes,” you said with certainty. But after the words left your mouth, they felt hollow. You bit the inside of your cheek. “And even if he did, I’m not sure that would help me.”

“What do you mean?”

You stiffened. Loving Azriel was not the same as loving anyone else. Loving him was easy, yes—but the way Azriel romantically loved was sickening. It was obsessive, gluttonous.

You were afraid of what it might mean to be on the receiving end of it.

Because Azriel had always glorified the ones he loved, turned them into something untouchable, something divine. It was the kind of love that replaced religion. And you—you—were not divine. You were not flawless. And that alone made you doubt yourself.

Azriel had seen your faults. The way you held grudges, the way you sometimes bit down your emotions until they cut into you, the way you weren’t always kind. In a friend, those things were forgivable. But in a lover?

Flaws in a lover could be a sin for Az.

And you didn't think you could survive it—the moment he realized you weren’t something worth worshiping.

Better, then, to never let him try.

You decided not to answer Mor’s question— not properly at least. Instead, you shrugged, turning your gaze back to the night before you, to the calm gardens and the skies that illuminated them.

“I just do.”

Mor hummed. She understood that the conversation was over. You were tired. And there was nothing she could say that you hadn’t already dissected a thousand times in your mind. So she pulled you closer, and you let her, resting your head against the crook of her shoulder.

The door creaked open behind you. You didn’t acknowledge it, but you felt Mor shift, felt her hair brush your cheek as she turned to greet the new addition to your self-pity circle.

And then you felt another familiar presence. The scent of night-chilled wind, sea, and citrus, the familiar shift in power—a presence heavier than Azriel’s, but just as consuming. Even more at times. 

Rhys settled beside you with a groan, joints creaking as he got comfortable.

It made you smile, just a little. Old man.

“I was wondering where you two went off to,” he said. “What are you doing out here?”

You let out a small sound—something noncommittal, something that didn’t quite fill the silence. “Oh, you know. Contemplating every single sense of existential dread.” You gestured vaguely. “Talking about the weather.”

Rhys lifted a brow. You paused, sparing him a quick glance. “It’s nice weather.”

He made a sound—half a hum, half a laugh—and rubbed his knee. “I don’t know. I can feel rain coming.”

You didn’t say anything, just glanced up at the sky—still clear, the stars bright. Some rain sounded nice. Peaceful. Something to wash away the past few days.

Rhys looked over at Mor. “Emerie is looking for you.”

Mor exhaled, glancing between the two of you before pulling away. Her hands, fingers now cold from the night, squeezed your face gently. “I love you,” she said softly. “Come find me if you need anything, okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

She hesitated for just a second before standing up and disappearing into the house. You watched her go, the warmth of her touch still lingering on your skin as you turned back around, finding Rhys already watching you. He had that look—one of quiet concern, of something like careful patience. The image of a concerned father. An older brother. 

“You don’t have to babysit me, you know,” you muttered.

Rhys snorted. “Trust me, I’ve had enough babysitting for the night.”

“Yeah, but don’t you want to be inside with everyone else?”

“Are you trying to kick me back into my own home?” he asked, amused.

You shook your head. “No, I just don’t want you to feel like you need to be out here with me.”

“I don’t feel like I need to be anything,” he said simply. “I haven’t spent much time with you lately. I want to be out here.” His voice softened. “After all, this is a banquet thanking people who’ve helped this court. Who has helped more than you, the one I trust to help repair our image?”

You let out a quiet laugh. “Well, I did some damage recently, too.”

“Until you get banned from an entire court, I think you’re alright.”

The conversation settled into a lull, quiet stretching between you. 

Then you said, “I’m assuming Mor told you some things.”

“Not really. But I can assume.”

You swallowed, looking away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” he said easily. “We don’t have to.”

“But…” You glanced at him, suddenly tired of holding it all in. You had always been honest with your family—always told them the truth, even when it was difficult. And after opening up to Mor, after feeling the weight of it ease just slightly, you realized how much you had missed this. How much lighter a burden felt when it was shared, when you weren’t the only one carrying it.

Rhys seemed to understand before you even said another word. His expression shifted, something like realization settling in his gaze. And then, carefully, you felt the light press of him in your mind. A knock.

You let your walls down.

You felt his presence as he sifted through the memories—watched his face change as he saw it all.

After a long moment, he straightened slightly, exhaling as he looked at you. He squinted, tilting his head. “Oh,” he said. “I see.”

“Yeah.”

You turned away again, resting your head in your hands. Your chest felt a lot lighter now. Your thoughts a little less heavy. Rhys didn’t say anything. He just stood, brushing off his pants before stepping down the stairs.

You frowned, watching as he descended a few steps, then extended a hand toward you.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“We’re going on a walk.”

“A walk?”

“Yes,” he said. “I think you need to clear your mind.”

You hesitated, eyeing his outstretched hand. He only smiled. “Someone very special in my life used to take me on walks when I was overwhelmed.”

Your lips parted slightly, a flicker of recognition sparking in your chest. You thought back to those early years—when Rhys was newly High Lord, when he was drowning in responsibility and grief he wouldn’t even acknowledge. You had forced him to go on walks back then, dragging him away from his desk, ignoring his protests. He had hated it at first. And then, eventually, it had just become something you did.

A quiet tradition.

You smiled—small, almost sad—as you pushed yourself up. “Are you sure you want to leave everyone?”

“I think they can handle us leaving for a few hours.”

You scoffed. “Don’t speak too soon.”

Rhys huffed a laugh, shaking his head as you stepped down to join him. And then, without another word, you walked.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

There was a certain shared understanding between you and Rhysand— two people who had seen each other at their best and worst. For an hour, as the familiar rhythm of your footsteps matched each other’s perfectly, it felt as if the world had paused just enough for you to feel like you belonged again.

When you finally reached the townhome, Rhys stopped, his hand on your arm like he was trying to keep you from walking away too soon.

“You’re not foolish for not realizing it sooner,” he said. “It’s a gift, really. To love so fully, so completely, that you don’t even notice where friendship ends and something more begins. Most people can’t do that, you know. We’re… very lucky to have you.”

You could only manage a smile in response. Rhys pulled you into a hug, his arms tight around you as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Get some rest,” he murmured, pulling away. Then he grinned, a familiar one that only he could pull off. “If you keep overthinking, I’ll have to start charging for my emotional support. I don’t come cheap, you know.”

“Are businesses no longer discounting damaged goods?”

Rhys let out a dramatic gasp, clutching his chest. “Ouch,” he said, eyes wide with mock offense. “I take back everything about you being loving.”

“Night, Rhys,” you said, your voice warmer now. Genuine. “Love you.”

His smile softened, no longer the teasing grin. “I know.”  And you could hear the affection there.

Then he turned and began walking down the path, whistling a nursing song that you were sure Nyx had been fixated on. Rhys reached the corner, paused for a moment as if to make sure no one was watching, then disappeared, winnowing into the night.

Dramatic even without an audience. You shook your head, a small smile still tugging at your lips, before entering the townhouse and making your way up the stairs. 

You stopped when you saw him.

Azriel. Sitting against your door like he was waiting for something—someone. You. His eyes met yours, locking in place as if he’d been holding his breath this whole time. And in a blink, he was on his feet, moving like something had snapped, urgent, too fast for comfort. 

“Y/n,” he said, his voice low. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

You paused, pushing the door to your bedroom open slowly, not fully meeting his gaze. “Why?”

“I was hoping we could talk.”

You sighed, shoulders sagging as exhaustion settled over you. You didn’t want to have this conversation—not right now. It wasn’t that you didn’t care about what Azriel had to say, but everything just felt too much in this moment. You needed space, time to breathe and clear your head before diving into whatever this was between you two.

Tomorrow. You could deal with it tomorrow, with a fresh perspective, when you weren’t so drained. Tonight, you just needed to sleep, to wake up with your head in a better place, ready to handle it all. You wanted Rhys's words to be the last thing in your mind. Something comforting. Soothing.

“Maybe tomorrow,” you muttered, stepping inside. “I’m tired.”

“I’ll make this quick.”

You moved toward your bed, placing Mor’s shawl across your sheets. “Az, seriously. Tomorrow.”

He didn’t move, and when you glanced up, he looked at you then—really looked at you—and your breath caught in your throat as he asked, "Do you have feelings for me?"

You froze. A strange, cold knot twisted in your stomach. “Oh, not this again,” you groaned. You looked away, instinctively crossing your arms across your chest.

“Yes, this again,” he pressed, stepping closer. “I want an answer. Please.”

“Come on, Az.” You forced control over the tremor rising in your chest. “What did I do this time? Stare at you too long? Breathe too loud? Did you mistake me scolding you for some strange forepla—”

“I heard you,” he interrupted, and the words hit like a slap.

It felt like the air stopped moving. You couldn’t breathe.

“What?”

“Tonight,” he said, voice quieter now, “I heard you and Mor. I found this in my pocket.” He pulled out a bracelet—Selene’s, the matching piece to the one Mor had worn earlier.

Your heart slammed into your ribs. You opened your mouth to explain, but nothing came out. You needed something—anything. "You—you misunderstood."

"Did I?" His shadows stirred restlessly around him. “I-I didn’t hear much. It went quiet too fast, but from what I did hear… Did I really misunderstand?”

Your face burned, the heat spreading so quickly it felt like your skin might catch fire under his stare. You turned away, pulling your arms tighter across your chest. “Azriel, I don’t—”

“Just tell me the truth,” he urged, his voice cracking. “Please.”

You couldn’t respond. The words wouldn’t come.

A long silence stretched between you.

“Okay,” Az said, and his voice was so soft, so unlike his usual tone, it almost felt foreign. “Then I need to say something.” 

"Az…" You turned to him, meeting his eyes as you said, "Just, please, don’t.”

Your response didn’t seem to register. Azriel closed his eyes, taking in a slow, deep breath, like he was steadying himself before a plunge. 

“That night,” he started, “when I cleaned up your cheek, you asked why I listened to Selene. Why I said you had feelings for me. I told you I didn’t know.” He paused, dragging his hand over his face. “I lied. I know why. It bothered me when she said it. More than I wanted to admit. I told myself it was just because it made me uncomfortable—but that wasn’t it. I think the real reason I couldn’t stop thinking about it was because a part of me wanted it to be true.”

Maybe it was the exhaustion, or the way Azriel looked so exposed in front of you, but his words didn’t land right away. You blinked, trying to process, but before you could speak, he continued—his voice somehow even softer now.

“I thought if I said it out loud, you’d laugh it off. Call me crazy. Maybe you’d correct me. Then I could force myself to never think about it again. But you didn’t. And gods, the look on your face when I said it... it was like I’d hit you.” 

Another silence settled between you. For the first time, you were grateful for it, because one look at Az told you he wasn’t finished, that there was more he needed to say.

“I think I’ve always loved you,” Az said, and the words cracked something open inside you. “I didn’t know it—not at first. I thought it was normal. Of course, I wanted to be around you all the time. Of course, you’d be the first person I thought of in the morning and the last person at night.” His voice wavered, and he shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips as his wings fell lax. “But it’s not. It’s not normal.”

His gaze finally met yours, steady, like he was holding you there with it. You’d never seen him look at anyone like this—not Mor, not Elain, not Gwyn. 

“I can't lie to you, Y/n. I can’t pretend I don’t love you. You’re everywhere. You’re everything.”

You couldn’t breathe. The world around you narrowed, collapsing inward until there was nothing left but him. Azriel loved you. The relief that hit you almost made your knees give out. 

His chest rose and fell quickly, like he was bracing for impact. The earlier desperation was gone, replaced by something more timid. "Please," he whispered. "Say something."

The pressure in your chest—the ache that had burrowed beneath your ribs for weeks—dissipated in an instant. Every concern, every gnawing worry. All that remained was the quiet comfort that Azriel had always given you. That ease, that feeling of home you’d only ever found in him.

You exhaled, and before you could stop yourself, a laugh slipped past your lips—breathless, almost disbelieving. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk that much. Like, ever.”

Azriel blinked. For a moment, you thought you’d broken something—but then, his lips twitched, a hesitant smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. 

“Well, there was a lot of ground to cover.” He exhaled through his nose. “But if you don’t feel the same—if this isn’t what you want, I’ll step back. I won’t push. I promise.”

You wanted to cry, to laugh, to praise the Mother that he felt the same. Instead, you closed the space between you. Slowly, you reached up, fingers threading through the mess of his hair, smoothing away the strands that had fallen across his forehead. You traced the line of his cheekbone with the barest brush of your fingertips, committing it to memory, savoring the way his breath hitched beneath your touch.

You hesitated—just for a heartbeat—before cupping his face in your palm.

And then, you kissed him.

He didn’t react at first. He just stood there, completely still, like he hadn’t even processed what was happening. You started to pull away, suddenly unsure—

But then he made a sound, something like a sigh of relief, and his hands found you.

The next kiss wasn’t hesitant. His fingers pressed into your waist as he pulled you in, tilting his head, deepening it, like he didn’t want to waste another second. And you felt it—every inch of it. The ache, the longing, the unbearable relief of finally knowing. Every agonizing thought, every moment spent convincing yourself this was one-sided, crumbling beneath the warmth of his mouth against yours.

No kiss had ever felt like this. Not in all your years, not in all your life.  Like something was finally, truly yours. It was sharp, it was bright, a rush that sent you spiraling in a way you hadn’t known you could.

But even with your heart glowing in your chest, there was no dramatic shift. No world-altering moment. It just felt right. A quiet kind of certainty. The kind that settled into your bones and left you with nothing but butterflies.

You pulled apart slowly, foreheads resting together, lips still brushing as if reluctant to let go. The cool touch of his shadows grazed your skin. You weren’t sure if it was them or the kiss itself that made your skin tingle.

Azriel’s eyes fluttered open a second after yours. The way he looked at you—so close, his hazel eyes bright with green flecks—had your chest tightening. It made you breathless. His smile softened the furrow in his brow, the motion pulling at his cheeks in a way that made your heart stutter all over again. 

His thumb ghosted over your cheek. “Are you crying?”

You blinked, still so caught up in the haze of everything, in how your heart was doing this erratic dance that you couldn’t quite follow. You lifted a hand to your face, and—shit, there were tears. You hadn’t even noticed. “Oh. Well, guess I am,” you said, a half-laugh slipping out before you could stop it, but it sounded hollow, a little shaky. “Awkward.”

Azriel made a sound, something close to a laugh of his own, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, not fully. “What is it? Did I do something wrong?” 

“You have no idea how much I’ve been overthinking the past few weeks.”

Azriel’s expression softened as his finger moved, brushing over your lips now. “If it makes you feel better,” he said, “I’ve been in complete agony too.”

A proper laugh slipped from you. “Well, good,” you said, a little teasing, but it felt good to say it. “It does make me feel better. You deserved it a little bit.”

He smiled, amused, his gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips. “I did, didn’t I?”

A soft hum rumbled in your chest in response, something between a smile and a sigh. His thumb continued its slow, deliberate path across your lips, tracing the edges like he was memorizing them. You didn’t stop him.

You let your hands fall, landing gently against his chest, where you could feel the steady, rhythmic pulse of his heart beneath your palm. 

“So, what do we do now?” You asked quietly, the question coming out before you could stop it. 

Azriel’s motions slowed. “What would you like to do?”

“Well, we probably have to talk about what this means.”

He nodded. “Probably.”

You couldn’t help it. “And we really need to figure out how we’re going to move forward, how this changes everything…”

“Mhm,” he murmured, his focus now completely on your face, his fingers tracing your features, exploring them in a way he’d never been able to. 

“Az,” you murmured. “Are you listening to me?”

He didn’t hesitate as he met your gaze and responded, “I would never make the mistake of not listening to you again.”

The sincerity in his voice made your breath catch, every other thought fading in the wake of it—until your stomach growled. You grimaced. 

“Actually,” you said, tapping a finger against his chest. “You know what I would really like to do now?”

“Tell me.”

“I could really go for some food.” 

Suddenly, Azriel stepped back, eyes lighting up like an excited child. You frowned at the loss of contact. “Wait here.”

Before you could even process what was happening, he was already gone, running out the door. A few seconds later, he returned, breathless, looking slightly too pleased with himself as he held both hands behind his back. “I  have something for you.”

You eyed him. “Is it a bug?”

Realistically, you knew it wasn’t. Or at least, you hoped it wasn’t. But Azriel had never looked this pleased with himself before, never this close to giddy. That, combined with the way his hands were securely tucked behind his back, reminded you that—before anything else—Azriel was your best friend. And your best friend knew exactly how to mess with you at the strangest times.

Azriel’s expression faltered for a second. “What? No. Why would it—never mind.”

Then, hesitantly, he revealed it: crumpled in a piece of an appetizer liner, slightly worse for wear, was the rosemary and honey tartlet you’d eyed earlier. You melted at the sight and reached for it gently, cradling it in your hands like something precious.

Azriel looked almost sheepish. “We can get a proper meal, but I noticed you were looking at it earlier—at the banquet. You never grabbed one. So I thought…”

A laugh slipped out before you could stop it. A real one. Centuries. Centuries of friendship, of knowing him better than anyone, and somehow you’d never seen this. Never noticed how deeply he noticed you. How foolish you had been. How lucky you were now. 

Azriel frowned. “What? What’s funny?”

“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head, still laughing softly. “Its just— of course you noticed.” 

His lips quirked like he wasn’t sure whether to be amused or suspicious. “Well, yeah.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, reaching out again, pressing your palm against his cheek for a beat before turning your focus back to the tartlet. You turned it over in your hands. “Why is it squished?”

Azriel winced, like the question itself embarrassed him. “Doesn’t matter,” he muttered, brushing it off.

You lifted a brow. “Okay.”

You stared at it for another moment, then turned, setting it carefully on your bed.

He frowned. “But the crumbs on your bedsheet—”

You shook your head, smiling with a teasing eye roll. “Just kiss me, neat freak.”

His protest faded as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your mouth to his. Once, then again, and again, until you were sure even his shadows felt the need to look away.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You and Azriel hadn’t slept.

Not for any reason that would have had Cassian waggling his eyebrows at you—though you did, naturally, find yourself thinking about it—but because the night had slipped away in conversation over greasy food from a little restaurant south of the townhouse.

The early morning light stretched through the windows, soft and golden, as Azriel stood at the kitchen counter making tea. You watched the familiar sight of him steeping the leaves, the way he moved like this was just any other morning.

But it wasn’t. Twelve hours ago, this had felt impossible. And now it was here.

You curled your fingers around the edge of the table, trying to process the weight of it. It wasn’t heavy, though. That was the strangest part. Not that you now knew how his lips felt against yours, or how his heartbeat sounded when it synced with your own, but how there had been no grand shift, no dramatic revelation. No bolt of lightning splitting your world in two. 

Just this—Azriel placing a mug in front of you, his fingers brushing yours, his lips quirking as he sat by you like he always had. Except there were small differences now— his chair was closer, next to you more than it was across. You found yourself focusing on smaller details, his dark lashes as he looked down at his cup, the way his fingers curled around the ceramic. You did your best to suppress any fleeting thoughts at the sight of them. Those ideas could be addressed later. 

It all made sense—the infuriating, vague notion that people had told you over the years: when you know, you know. You’d always hated that. How could no one ever explain it? How could no one ever find the words? But looking at Az now, you understood. There were no words. Just this. Just the way your heart settled at the sight of him. 

“You’re staring,” Azriel murmured, watching you over the rim of his cup.

You hummed, taking a sip of your tea. “You’re pretty.”

Azriel choked. Caught completely off guard. He set his mug down, coughing once, and when he looked at you again, his eyes were narrowed. “That was disgustingly sincere.”

“I know,” you grinned. “You’ll survive.”

Your mind drifted back to the night before—how the two of you had been desperate to catch up on all the things you had missed over the past few weeks. You’d told him about Adrin’s extensive mirthroot collection and how well you thought he’d be suited for Gwyn. He’d groaned, muttering something about needing to apologize. And then Az had told the story of how Cassian had slapped him for being an idiot. Three times. You’d really laughed at that one.

Somewhere between it all, between the easy conversation and the warmth of having him near, it had hit you again and again—this is it. This is what you could have for the rest of your life, if you were lucky.

Azriel hummed, setting his cup down. He knocked his knee against yours—once, then twice, like he was testing something. And then he reached over, grabbed the side of your chair, and scraped it just an inch closer to his.

You shot him a flat look. “Don’t tell me you’re a clingy boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Azriel raised a brow jokingly. “I don’t remember us labeling anything.”

“Oh, right. My mistake. In that case, I should probably tell Nesta to back out of the Gwyn and Adrin plan—”

“Don’t you dare.”

You smirked over your tea. “Why not? It’s not like I have a boyfriend to be upset about it.”

He stared at you for a beat, smiling as his eyes softened with a warmth that made your stomach flip. Seconds later, you were both laughing. Quiet, warm laughter that filled the kitchen, that curled around you like an embrace.

And then—

A shift, a subtle pull, like the air had thickened and the room was just a little smaller. It wasn’t a shock, nothing sudden or harsh. It was smooth, like a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding until you exhaled, like the feeling of stepping into the sun after hours in the cold. 

This was it. He was it.

Azriel froze, eyes widening as the feeling settled. Then, like he was testing something—searching—he tugged, just a bit, like he wasn’t sure if it was real. You sucked in a breath, hand instinctively rising to your chest. You felt it, in the way it seemed to resonate through every nerve, like a pulse echoing through your ribs.

He cleared his throat, a soft sound, almost nervous, and then his voice came out, rough but teasing, “Clingy mate, actually.”

Your heart stumbled over itself. A laugh caught in your throat, half breathless, half disbelieving. And then you were kissing him, pressing your forehead against his, letting the warmth of him, of this, sink into every part of you.

“Bold of you to assume I accept.”

Azriel laughed deeply before he was kissing you again, grinning against your lips as you laughed into his. And when you pulled back, breathless and giddy, you knew—without a single doubt—that you’d never stop choosing this.

Never stop choosing him.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

authors note:

and.... it is a happy ending after all :D awsf? nation how are we feeling tonight🎤

theyre mates, your honor!!! theyre mates and in love!!! im so sorry this took so long my loves, i rewrote it like 6 times. im still worried it doesnt do them justice but hehe we ball

i do have at least two more works for this little universe! a small lil epilogue planned for these sweethearts AND another surprise piece... which is already at 10k (hint: we get…another perspective of the night. plus a fun lil convo with a certain matedhaired male...). the surprise should be out next week, and the proper epilogue (with a timejump!) sometime after. and im always so so open to doing lil one-shots for this universe

thank you all again for reading <3 i hope i've done this lovestory justice.

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten  @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon  @glam-targaryen 

@cheneyq @darkbloodsly @motheroffae @azrielsbbg @evergreenlark 

@marina468 @azriels-human @book-obsessed124 @bubybubsters @starswholistenanddreamsanswered 

@feyretopia  @yesiamthatwierd @azrielrot @justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli 

@mrsjna @anarchiii @alittlelostalittlefound @melissat1254 @secretsicanthideanymore

@m4tthewmurd0ck @beardburnsupersoldiers @isnotwhatyourethinking @tothestarsandwhateverend @raginghellfire

@angel-graces-world-of-chaos @acoazlove @paradisebabey @inkedinshadows @mellowmusings

@paankhaleyaaar @curiosandcourioser @thisrandombitch @casiiopea2 @w0nderw0manly

@rottenroyalebooks @jurdanpotter @casiiopea2 @gamarancianne @weesablackbeak

@booksaremyescapeworld @knoxic  @wynintheclouds @dacrethehalls  @louisa-harrier

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"Waking Up in Vegas"

Prologue, Chapter one:, Chapter 2,Chapter 3, Chapter 4:

ok guys! we're back and reader's hot girl summer has started! Sorry I was gonna put this chapter out earlier today but i've just been so busy today plus i'm cooking up a 3rd part for "older" I got my period AND i have a math test and english essay coming up. If some parts don't make sense, its on purpose. Reader is disoriented and drunk half the time, the days blur together for her. Lmk what yall think of readers hot girl summer and what you want/think will happen in the next chapter .Sorry for any mistakes! Comments, reblogs and ASKS make my dayyyy and encourage me.

Saint-Tropez wasn’t just a place, it was a playground, a haven for those who didn’t care about consequences or anyone else’s rules.

And you? Well, you were done with rules.

For the last two weeks, you’d been living like this, untouchable, free, and completely lying to your family.

You had told Bruce you were staying with Ariel and her father, which was true, for the first two days anyway.

Ariel's father is a busy man, he couldn't take 2 and a half months off work to babysit two 16 year olds who would do what they wanted anyway. As soon as he left, Ariel began calling your two other close friends, Claire and Rory. Together, all four of you were unstoppable at school though it was an unspoken rule that you and Ariel were the dynamic duo. All four of you stayed in Ariel's ocean front villa, relaxing, tanning, and just getting settled.

God, let's not even start on how drastically everything changed while you were at boarding school and the family found out Tiffany's true colors. They were all so.....protective now. You got calls everyday, from each of your 'siblings' separately, dozens of texts asking you what you ate, who you were with, and what you were doing. You didn't entertain them. The only person you replied to was Bruce, and that's only because you knew if he wanted to, he could call off this whole trip.

You didn't answer Tim's random, vague questions like, "Who's that on your story? Do you know them? Are you sure they're safe to be with?" He was asking about a simple sunset dinner picture you posted with Ariel, so you blocked him. He's way too nosy.

You didn't reply to the groupchat the girls, Barbra, Steph, and Cass added you in called "The girls!!"

What a creative name!

You left after you saw 'Tiffany was removed from this conversation'. Maybe you were being petty but they obviously had this chat before and didn't bother to add you to it before Tiffany was exposed. It was your turn to ignore them.

You definitely didn't reply to Damian's outright threatening messages that he sent almost every other day, they all sounded something along the lines of "You will regret this. You cannot simply leave and run away from your family. Come home or else."

He's such a strange little boy, he spoke and acted like an angry Victorian prince. He texted you like you were close before, like it wasn't him who pushed you away. You were coming back in two months and yet he acted like ran away and changed your name.

Jason, Bruce, and Dick were the most consistent and annoying, in that order exactly.

Jason texted you every morning at 8 and every night 11, like clockwork. His texts were daily updates what he was planning on doing that day, asking you the same, and reminding you that he's sorry and that he loves you. It tugged at your heart not to answer him, and sometimes, you gave in and you could feel the joy in his response when you replied. You and Jason's conversations went like this, on the odd occasion you replied,

"Good morning." - Jason

"How are you? No trouble in paradise I hope."- Jason

"My days gonna be pretty dull today, nothing much except patrol. Might go to that bookstore you used to like." - Jason

Your cold heart would melt when he said things like that and you would reply,

"awww! jason, thats so sweet." and follow with "I'm good!! how bout you??? staying out of trouble?"

Jason was your softest spot and he knew it.

Bruce texted you three times a day. Morning, afternoon, and evening. His messages were dry and authorative, demanding answers. He wanted to know who you were with, what you were doing, if you left the house, and if you were okay. The fatherly care and authority isn't something your used to, it was strange. You weren't sure if you felt cared for or suffocated. You answered Bruce once a day, your tone straight to the point, answering only what he asked, nothing more.

Dick is by far the worst. He texted you constantly, as if trying to make up for 11 years of not texting you at all. He texted you when he woke up, when he slept, when he ate, what he ate, and sent you pictures of everything. Once he sent you a picture of a tiny bird saying it reminded him of you. You nearly blocked him after that, the only reason you didn't was because you liked how desperate he was. Not long ago, it was you spamming him like that. Plus he can be funny most of the time. You don't even want to think of the constant selfies he sent. You only ever replied once.

Dick sent a selfie of him hanging with some of the Titans, you forgot why or what he said along with it, but you do remember seeing Connor Kent shirtless in the background. You giggled and showed Ariel how hot he is. You replied to Dick almost instantly hearting the picture, screen shotting it, and drawing a heart around Connor saying something like, "WHO DAT IN THE BACK????" and "Tell superboy to hmu".

Dick was not happy about that, that was the last group selfie he ever sent. He got more frequent with his texts after that. He must've snitched to Jason because not even five minutes after you got a text from him.

"Remember what I said. No boys, i'll kick his ass." - Jason

You ignored him of course.

The sun beat down in the south of France, but you were far from concerned with the blistering heat. Not when there was a private yacht at your disposal, a poolside filled with strangers and familiar faces alike, and the soundtrack of Drake keeping your pulse racing. You felt the vibration of your phone against your palm for the third time in ten minutes. Another text from Bruce. He was becoming more insistent you answer him the longer you were gone. It's only been two weeks! Another "where are you?" or "be careful." As if you were gonna listen. Or reply to him.

Bruce. The man who'd ignored you for the better part of your life, suddenly acting like a worried father because Tiffany, the perfect sister, had betrayed them all. Tiffany, the adopted daughter who had somehow replaced you in their world. Now, she was the enemy, the traitor, the spy, and she was gone. That meant you had all the freedom you could ever want.

The more you thought about Tiffany the angrier you got. She had everything. How many summers has she spent on yatchs partying? How many times has she blown thousands of Bruce's dollars? Why were you forgiving them so easily? Why were you even listening to him?

Just because he apologized and said he'd change?

Why should you forgive Jason so easily and respect his rules, he ignored you for years and replaced you with Tiffany. The more you drank, the more you thought and the angrier you got. Who do they think they are? You've always been too nice, too obedient, and they're still taking advantage of it. You'd show them, show them what its like to be ignored and forgotten and made fun of.

For the next two months, you were going to ignore them. Bruce and jason included. You've been too nice, too good these two weeks, your friends were begging to party but you didn't want to, you were scared of disappointing them.

You were so angry nothing changed in you that you finally caved and decided to do what Claire and Rory were doing, give your phone to a worker here and have them turn the location on and send updates to Bruce. You still used the same icloud so you could read their messages and make sure they weren't suspicous.

He'd think you were always at the villa or just going into town, they won't know what hit them.

You turn to Ariel and grin, "I'm free. What are we doing tonight?" You were done obeying their rules and living your life for them. Who knows when you'd be alone in Europe with your best friends again.

Ariel hopped off her chair and squealed, her dark skin glowing from the sun, she grabbed you and twirled you around, your giggles echoing through the yacht and drawing Claire and Rory's attention.

Ariel grinned and explained to Rory and Claire, "Little Miss good girl finally came to her senses and went M.I.A with her dad. Now we can finally party! Hot girl summer starts now."

All three girls start squealing and join Ariel in her celebration.

You rolled your eyes feeling guilty, "I told you, you could've gone without me!"

Ariel wrapped her arm around you, "Nonsense, it's not a party without you. Now, come on we gotta go shopping if we're going out tonight. It's lucky that we both have daddy's black cards. It's really lucky that they have Dior, Hermes, and YSL down the street."

You weren't sure how much you spent and the drinks kept you from feeling guilty. Bruce is like, a bajilionaire, what you spent won't make a dent.

Somehow, you ended up on an even bigger yacht filled with guys, in your brand new Dior bikini with a matching bag.

By the time night fell, the yacht was buzzing, the VIP lounge overrun by people who hadn’t even been invited. The bass was so loud you felt it in your bones. You didn’t care. You've never felt so alive.

Your new phone wasn't getting any messages except DMs, and the woman you hired confirming Bruce thought you were sound asleep in the villa.

You can practically taste the summer air as you step onto the deck of the boat, laughing with Ariel and your friends and the others you’ve met along the way. No one cares about where you’ve been, where you’re going, or who your family is.

As the DJ cranks up the volume, a cute guy with long blonde hair catches your eye. You wink at him and saunter over. This summer is all about freedom, and you’re ready for it. His hands are already on your waist, pulling you close, and suddenly you’re lost in the rhythm, spinning and laughing, his lips brushing against your ear.

The night wears on, you drink more, laugh louder, flirt harder. The yacht turns into a blur of lights, drinks, and music. As midnight rolls around, the party shows no signs of slowing. You could stay here forever, with no rules but your own.

But then it happens. You wake up in a completely different city.

London.

You’re sprawled on a plush couch in a ridiculously luxurious flat, a half-empty bottle of champagne next to you. The room smells like expensive perfume, and the decor is all sleek lines and minimalist chic. You sit up slowly, your head pounding from last night.

You sit up straighter, rubbing your eyes.You vaguely remember a private jet, but it’s all blurry. One moment, you were on the deck of the yacht, living it up, and the next, you're waking up in an entirely new country.

You look around the room in panic and spot Ariel sleeping on the couch and a random guy, butt naked on the floor next to her. You sigh in relief at Ariel being okay and the fact you weren't kidnapped.

There’s a knock at the room door, and when you answer, it's a random guy from last night, British accent, disheveled hair, wearing nothing but boxer shorts. He grins at you sheepishly. “Hey, you good?”

You, Ariel, the naked boy named Christian, and the Brit named Thomas, have breakfast and exchange stories of what you remember from last night. It was fun, but you and Ariel flew back to St. Tropez where a jealous Claire and a worried Rory were waiting.

Last night was fun, but it couldn't happen again. It was dangerous and if anything happened Bruce wouldn't know.

Except it did happen again, and again, all summer long.

The next weeks were a blur, Venice, Monaco, and Madrid, with stops in Dubai and Los Angeles along the way. Each city more vibrant and intoxicating than the last. Every place you went, you had the freedom to be whoever you wanted to be. There was always a fresh crop of people, and you reveled in not having to answer to anyone. No father, no brothers, no sisters, just you and your friends against the world.

You and Ariel lived your lives like you were gonna die tomorrow. You were unstoppable, no family, no rules, no responsibility. Your abilities weren't acting up at all, everything was perfect. Bruce and the family were off your back, being made to think you were at the villa all day.

The “No Boys Rule” was completely disregarded, though. It seemed that whenever you let your guard down for just a moment, you’d end up surrounded by someone new. Whether it was a guy from a club in Monaco or a guy you met on a private yacht in Venice, you were always finding someone new

Despite all the parties, the alcohol, and the private Instagram posts, and funny Tik Toks, there was still a growing sense that you weren’t living this life for you, you were living it for the rebellion, to spite Bruce.

It wasn’t just about freedom anymore. It was about finally being seen, even if that meant drifting away from everyone you once called family.

You only had one month left of absolute freedom, and you were gonna make the most of it. With Ariel, Rory, and Claire by your side, you partied in just about every city.

The final month of your wild European escapade had arrived, and things were only getting wilder.

The clock had no meaning anymore. Days and nights blended into each other as you danced from one city to the next, your world a whirlwind of music, champagne, and endless laughter. Ariel, Rory, and Claire had become your partners in crime, literally when you got arrested, but thats not important.

Each morning you woke up in a new place, groggy and confused, only to remember the night before—flashing lights, pounding beats, and the promise of more. Cannes, Monte Carlo, Paris, or Dubai, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the freedom you’d found in them, and in yourself. You were more than the neglected, ignored girl from Gotham; now, you were the life of the party.

there was always someone waiting to whisk you away to the next nightclub, the next gala, the next beach party where the world’s richest men tried to get your attention.

First, it was Paris. You could feel the eyes on you as soon as you entered the hotel lobby. The air smelled of expensive perfume, freshly polished marble, and the faintest trace of guilt, because in some corner of your mind, you could still hear Bruce’s voice echoing in your ears. But it quickly faded as the first private yacht rolled up to the dock. The deck was crowded with Parisian socialites and half-drunk billionaires, but it wasn’t about the crowd, it was about the feeling of being wanted. Being worshipped.

It was in Paris that you really started feeling the distance between you and the life you’d left behind. The champagne flowed easily, the laughter came effortlessly, but there was an ache you hadn’t anticipated. A pang that struck at the edges of your satisfaction, the kind you couldn’t drink away.

You thought about Bruce. His pleading words, his desperation, and how, for a moment, you almost felt sorry for him. But only for a moment. You couldn’t let him win. Couldn’t let them see that you’d needed them. Because that would mean giving up everything you had now, the freedom, the endless nights, the city hopping, the boys who adored you.

You let it all sink in, just for a second, how much control you had over them now. How much they wanted you back, how much they needed you back. It felt good, knowing that you could walk away and have them chase after you, like you used to chase them.

Maybe it was the brief, fleeting moments when you thought about Gotham, about Bruce, about your family, and how none of it felt real anymore. They’d played their games, ignored you, and now it was your turn.

Meanwhile, your phone was a constant buzz of messages. Tim had sent at least five texts, each one more urgent than the last. Jason called twice, his voice sharp and filled with that annoying overprotectiveness he just developed. And Bruce… well, Bruce sent you one long, pleading message, something about understanding, about giving him another chance, and answering his calls. You didn’t even bother reading it all. You didn’t need to. You didn’t care enough to respond.

You had no intention of being tied down by anyone, but when a French prince with dark, tousled hair and eyes that burned through your soul offered you a glass of champagne and a seat next to him, you took it.

You didn’t even have to look for him, he found you. He was the one with the perfect jawline, the one who could be a model if he wasn’t already a prince. His eyes, blue locked onto yours the second you entered the VIP area. A raised brow, a subtle smirk, and you knew that for tonight, he was yours.

You didn’t speak much. He didn’t ask questions, and that was the kind of energy you craved. A few words, some flirting, fleeting touches, and then you were in his Lambo, the leather seats smooth under your skin as the city sped by. He went as fast as you wanted, loving the thrill and impressed look in your eyes.

The thrill was intoxicating, the feeling of being someone else, someone free. The kind of person who didn’t have to answer to anyone. A few hours later, you were standing on a balcony, watching the sunrise, your lips tingling from the kiss he’d stolen.

Your mind was a haze of laughter and the aftertaste of expensive whiskey. The view of the French Riviera was far too beautiful to appreciate right now, and your thoughts wandered back to Gotham, to the family you’d abandoned, the ones who had never cared for you.

But as the days wore on, it was harder to ignore the hollow feeling creeping in. The message from Dick, the one where he told you that he loved you, stayed in your mind longer than it should have. You told yourself it didn’t matter. You didn’t owe him anything. But you couldn’t help but wonder, just for a second, what it would have been like if things were different.

You turned away from those thoughts quickly. You couldn’t afford to get attached. Not now. Not when you were on the verge of something bigger. The freedom you had now was everything you wanted. No one could take that from you.

You couldn’t let them control you. You wouldn’t let them.

You and Ariel were inseparable now, pulling Claire and Rory into your whirlwind of recklessness. You all had your roles, Ariel was the carefree partier, Claire the quiet one who always managed to keep ya'll out of trouble, and Rory was the one always ready with a camera and a new Tik Tok idea. You were the star, the one they all gravitated toward.

Each day was a new city, a new set of challenges, a new set of eyes who wanted to be close to you. You knew the game, knew how to play it. You knew how to keep them guessing, how to make them want you more.

So, you danced. You partied. You lived in the moment and let your life spiral further from Gotham’s grasp.

From there, it was off to the next city.

Las Vegas; Sin City, there was no place like it. You couldn’t even remember how you got there, your mind fuzzy with a mix of adrenaline and whatever was in that last glass of tequila. The strip was lit up like daylight, people everywhere, the air thick with smoke and the sound of slot machines ringing through the night.

You woke up in a penthouse suite that could have been mistaken for an entire floor of the Bellagio, the morning sunlight filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. And there he was, a prince. The same French prince, draped in a robe embroidered with gold thread, a fresh glass of mimosas on the table beside him. He was smirking, lounging on the couch like this was all part of his daily routine. You couldn’t even remember how you got to the suite. What had happened between the bar and now? You didn’t care.

He didn’t seem to care either, his hand casually tracing the rim of his glass, his eyes never leaving you. You laughed, feeling the surrealness of it all wash over you, the weight of your last 48 hours in Ibiza and Monaco still fresh on your skin. One minute, you were dancing at a celebrity’s secret after-party in Monaco, and the next, you were here, on the other side of the world with some mysterious prince who had probably already forgotten your name.

The rest of the night was spent taking private jet rides to exclusive clubs, partying with people whose names you couldn’t even pronounce, and waking up to the flashing lights of a casino floor. Vegas was the kind of place where everything felt fake, but that didn’t matter. You really are Brucie Wayne's daughter.

Next stop, Ibiza, the heart of Europe’s clubbing scene. Ariel and you slipped into the club, stepping past the velvet ropes like it was second nature. The security guard practically bowed as you walked by. The crowd parted for you, the clinking of champagne glasses and the hum of expensive conversations filling the air.

This was where you belonged. The heat of the island, the night that stretched into forever. You and Ariel danced on top of the table at Pacha, popping bottles like they were nothing, the music vibrating in your bones, the crowd chanting your name like you were the star of the show. It was your second night there, and you had already met a Spanish duke who was more interested in buying you a yacht than actually getting to know you. There was white powder everywhere, tempting you to try but you didn't give in. Who knows what could be in it. Your friends and most people at the club didn't share the same idea.

You just wanted to enjoy the view and keep the party going but you were worried, maybe this was too much.

“we’ve got to live for the moment,” Ariel grinned, taking a shot of something that made her eyes water. “Who cares if we’re in a foreign country surrounded by dangerous people? It’s the best kind of chaos. When else are we gonna do this?”

Somehow you ended up on a private yacht again, this time surrounded by Ibiza’s elite. You weren’t sure how many shots of tequila you’d had, but you knew that the man at your side had given you a diamond bracelet to match your dress. You accepted with a grin asking him to put it on for you, your hair wild, your makeup smudged from hours of dancing, but it didn’t matter. You were untouchable.

It was getting close to 3 AM, and the music hadn’t stopped. The drinks kept flowing, and the Duke’s yacht you somehow ended up on was finally leaving the dock. You couldn’t remember how you ended up on the boat, but you were there now, floating on a million-dollar boat with peopl you’d only seen on TV. One of the men from the night before was already making eye contact, his glass of sangria in hand.

It was hard to be shy in a setting like this. Rory, who’d never been afraid of attention, was deep in conversation with a couple of supermodels who were likely on their third or fourth drink. Claire was wrapped up in a flirtation with the duke who owned this yacht, and Arie was in her own world, laughing with a group of guys who were definitely not short on cash.

The next morning, you woke up on the yacht, the sun blazing over the Mediterranean. You stretched lazily, your body still buzzing from the night before, and found yourself face-to-face with the man from last night.

He smirked, “Care for another round?” he asked, his accent thick, the sound of the waves crashing against the boat providing an oddly peaceful background.

You laughed and agreed. It was all so easy, this life. This endless, carefree abandon. No rules, no family to answer to, no obligations. It was just you, your friends, and a bunch of gorgeous strangers who only saw you for the party girl you had become. And for now, that was enough.

Next, Monaco, the grandest of them all. You didn’t just go to Monaco, you ruled it. You, Ariel, Claire and Rory crashing the most exclusive gala in the world; rich industrialists, F1 drivers ,tech moguls, the faces that appeared on the front of every magazine. But to you, it was just another game to play. Every conversation was a carefully curated performance, everyone vying for your attention, for your approval.

The days blurred together. Each city more beautiful, each party more decadent than the last. Monaco was wild, filled with the world’s elite and their very bored children. The private yacht parties were nothing short of a movie set, jet skis, champagne, drugs, and the sun beating down relentlessly. The thrill of it all never left, and every night you found a new billionaire, actor, or race car driver to distract you. It wasn’t about them, not really, it was about keeping the power in your hands, it was about feeling good. Taking away the pain that came with your powers, fortunately, men were jumping into your bed.

You didn’t even have to try. One wink, one smile, and suddenly you were in a Bentley, whisked away to a private after-party in a hidden corner of Monaco’s coastline. The prince of some oil-rich kingdom was at your side, and the night was long, filled with laughter and stolen kisses under the stars. You didn’t care what his name was, where he came from, or who he was, he was just another prince who could buy you anything you wanted.

You met guy, almost as rich as Bruce, who you beat at poker, he was more than happy to throw a yacht party in your honor. The invitation was clear: “Come party with us. No rules. No limits.”

Ariel had already decided to make a game of seeing how many men she could flirt before sunset, while Rory was doing her usual thing, charming people with her wit. You, on the other hand, had become the center of attention, as if the whole event was designed around you. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a conversation that didn’t involve someone trying to buy you a drink, or a private island.

As the weeks stretched on, you could barely keep track of all the cities you had visited. You spent one night in Berlin, dancing until dawn in one of the city’s most infamous clubs. The next, you were in Milan, draped in designer clothing and laughing with the most influential fashion people in the world. Every day felt like a new chapter, filled with new people, new parties, and a new sense of power.

It was intoxicating. Everyone loved you here, you were the life of every party. You had so many friends, you'd never be alone again.

There was something so exhilarating about being surrounded by people who knew your last name, who were used to rubbing elbows with people like Bruce Wayne, but didn’t realize you were his daughter.

You felt it in your bones now, the distance between you and Gotham was growing wider. The weight of the past, the guilt that had once threatened to crush you, was nothing more than a distant memory. Each city, each new face, each new party was a reminder that you didn’t need them. You didn’t need anyone.

But deep down, something shifted. Maybe it was the late-night conversations with Ariel on the balcony of a villa in Santorini, the wine flowing freely as you discussed the future, her dreams, your dreams, how you’d never go back to the way things were. Maybe it was the quiet moments alone on the edge of some private infinity pool, staring out at a horizon that seemed endless and just… empty.

You didn’t know when you started to feel it, but you knew one thing for sure: when you finally did come back to Gotham, you weren’t going to be the same person who had left.

The Final Stop, St. Tropez. You did a full circle. Your last hurrah before you returned home, or where your family assumed you were all this time. The private beach parties, the yachts that lined the harbor, the whispers of billionaires in their private jets. You danced in the sand, surrounded by flashes from cameras and jealous glares from women who had no idea who you were, but wanted to be you all the same.

A private villa awaited you, and there, amidst the most extravagant décor, you found yourself facing yet another prince, yet another man eager to claim you as his own.

You turned to find a prince—probably from denmark—standing next to you. You immediately recognized his face from magazines. He was the one who was always pictured at galas with his equally famous family. He was beautiful, dark-haired and dangerous, with a body like chiseled stone. But the only thing you could think about was how long it would take before you got bored of him, before you moved on to the next.

His thick accented voice cut through your thoughts, "Well, if it isn't the infamous party girl." He smirked eyeing you up and down.

"Oh, so you've heard of me" You said smiling. You had no idea how he knew you, all your socials were private and theres no way you had mutual friends. You froze for a second, just how far has your reputation proceeded you, did Bruce hear?

You brushed the thought away as soon as it came, Bruce didn't exist. Not tonight, your last actual night of freedom. Not when you were boarding the flight to gotham after tomorrow.

"Hard not to. You've been everywhere. Paris, London, Ibiza, Monaco, Dubai, Vegas. You're practically the princess of Europe." He grinned leaning closer.

After two months you were finally starting to feel the rush of it all catching up to you. But for now? Who cared? You were a 16-year-old filled with confidence, chaos, and fun. The world was yours, and there was no one who could stop you, least of all, your father, who were still clueless about your whereabouts and secretly obsessing over your every move. You were too busy living in the moment to care about that.

You were officially the European Party Girl, the one everyone wanted to be friends with, the one they all wanted to take selfies with.

Ariel once called you a prince magnet, she wasn't wrong. You woke up next to him the next morning, his strong arms around your waist.

When you went back to Gotham, you weren’t just going to show up. You were going to treat them like they treated you all these years, you were going to laugh in their faces, ignore them like they ignored you.

As you and Ariel spent your last night together packing, you couldn't help but smile. In these two months with her, you lived more than you had in your entire life.

When you boarded the plane back to Gotham, you were different. You were someone new, someone who had tasted freedom and wasn’t sure if she could ever go back. The Waynes had no idea what was coming for them, but you were ready. The game had shifted, and you were about to play it all the way to the end.

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[slutofpsh]

strip for me.

part five | lhs.

pairings: hyungline x reader

synopsis: hyung line got you trapped in a situation that you can’t get away from.

wc: 8k

warnings: smut, minors dni, fivesome, bullying (not promoting violence or bullying), degrading, raw sex (please use protection), dirty talks, curses, masturbation, hyung line being mean. this is not proof read.

note: lee heeseung’s solo part. next one will be jay’s. thank you so much for supporting my works and loving strip for me series. also, this doesn’t have heavy smut since i want to show the boy’s affection with reader outside the bed even more. anyway, reblogs and replies are highly encouraged.

part one; two; three; four

slutofpsh 2024 © all rights reserved.

you got sick the day after. maybe because your body got overwhelmed and didn’t expect that kind of activity. they let you rest for as long as you like until you finally regained your senses.

it was almost 10 pm when heeseung drove you home. both of you silent throughout the drive. heeseung’s glancing at you from time to time, but you refused looking at him.

your mom isn’t really skeptical about it. its also a good thing that she didn’t wonder why the hell did you get sick the day after because you have no idea what will you tell her.

today’s saturday. you skipped school yesterday and just laid on your bed the whole time.

your mind is still occupied by the big question: ‘what are you for those boys?’

they did took care of you that definitely ruin the whole concept of you being their toy and made you confused. the switch up is totally odd as well. they’re always so rude and harsh towards you, then suddenly they went soft and gentle.

that tho, didn’t change the fact that you felt used. (name)’s words kept repeating inside your mind like a broken radio.

a faint knock on your bedroom door snaps you out of you thoughts.

“y/n?” its your mom. “you have visitors. your friends are here.” she announced that draws your brows together.

“friends?” you’re beyond confuse.

nobody ever visited you, and more importantly, what friends? while feeling a little disoriented, you forced yourself out of the bed then faced the mirror once.

the smile on your mother’s face is bright, looking so delighted. she feels excited by this visit she’s referring to, you can tell by how she ushered you down the staircase.

“mom, wait.” you tried calming her down because you can’t think properly on who those friends she’s talking about.

“come on! they’re waiting.” and finally, you made it to the last step then she almost drag you to the spacious living room.

your lips gapped when you saw them dominates the sofa set by the middle. its just the four of them but it seem too crowded. maybe because they’re all so tall and now the average looking sofa looks a bit small for them.

they all whipped their heads on your direction the moment you stepped inside. you cannot exactly tell the look on their faces. your mom smiles and tugs your arm lightly.

“they said they’ve been worried, sweetie. why didn’t you told them that you’re sick?” she pouts.

you blinked, pushing the tears back inside your eyes. its a bit annoying. how you planned to ignore them after what happened and now you can feel your heart warms up just by seeing them here. how all the courage to finally end it dissipates along with your anger for the four fine men in front of you.

its kind of sickening. you find yourself pathetic for actually letting them affect you this way. they make you feel worthless, but at the same time they’re the only ones who can make you feel special.

“i’m s-sorry, it slipped off my mind.” you sniffed and tried to hide the real emotion through a half-smile.

your mom totally bought that reason. she hums and then she can hear a faint ringing from the other side of the house.

“oh! that must be my workmate. i’ll leave you guys here, okay? i will order food for you guys.” she coos and then exits the living room, leaving you alone with them.

their eyes settles at you, flashing with an foreign look on it. that made you feel uneasy so you glanced away.

“sweets,” jake was the first one to approach you closer, reaching for your arm.

his heart sank when you yank it back, declining his affection. he looks surprised and he wanted to try again, but he doesn’t want to push it.

“why are y-you here?” your voice cracks and looked at them one by one.

jay looks concerned, heeseung have his usual calm composure and sunghoon’s brows are furrowed. you can’t tell if he’s mad or worried. he stood up, stopping himself to advance towards you. he doesn’t want to scare you.

“we just want to check on you...” sunghoon says in his softest tone. he licked his lips, blinking multiple times to try and calm himself.

your view of sunghoon got covered when jake steps closer, his brows furrowed hardly and eyes glistening with sadness. his hand hangs mid way, attempting to get in touch of you, craving it.

“we got worried when you skipped class yesterday. we tried to call you, sweetheart.” jake looks desperate. it slightly broke your heart seeing him this way. his mischievous smile long gone.

“but you ignored all of us...” it was jay who talked this time.

you gave him a short glance. the stare stays for a while before you pursed your lips to sigh heavily. chest tightens and mind all messed up.

“what happened, sweets?” jake steps closer.

out of all of them, he’s the most touch deprived. one day without you and he’s all over the place. not to mention that you’ve been ignoring all of them. none of their attempts to contact you became successful and its sending him in distress.

you glanced at him then took a step backward. it pinned him on his position, eyes blank. jake looks in pain, but you looked much worst.

heeseung may seem calm, but behind this composed demeanour is his mind being a mess. he’s in panic. he never seen you this way and honestly he’s not prepared. he gulps and tries to gather himself.

“jake...” he calls his friend to stop him from advancing more.

as expected, he didn’t listen and attempts to take another step but a tear escaping your eye is what halts him from doing so. they never seen you this bothered and terrified before.

“sweets...” jake almost chokes on air when he softly tries to call you.

“p-please leave.” your breaths heavy, and chest painful from thinking that you’ll be ending what you have with them

its messed up. its very wrong. the set up is fucked up, but you can’t deny that you’ve gained more than you lost from this—whatever you call this.

it may sound exaggerated, but you think you saw all of their faces lose color. their eyes flickers fear and shoulders hangs low after hearing what you said.

“s-sweets...” jake’s voice cracks, trying to earn some sympathy. he never done that. he isn’t someone so weak. he always know where he stand and his power he holds over people. but not at the moment, specially not in front of you.

heeseung clenches his jaw to hide his trembling lips. he unclasped his fist, realizing he’s been doing that ever since you’ve walked inside the room.

jay’s in shambles. he doesn’t know what to feel at the moment. he’s always been the nonchalant one. never shown that there’s a weak spot in him. but now that you seem to be slipping away from him, he’s lost. he can feel his heart aching, hands shaking and breaths shorten.

sunghoon’s silent. his eyes never left you, fists balled tightly. he’s cursing himself. for being so ruthless and aggressive. he’s blaming it all to him and his friends. they’re so selfish. and you’re just too perfect. you did nothing wrong. it was all on them.

“y/n,” heeseung licks his lips and this time he trudges closer. jake glances at him, eyes full of hope. maybe his heeseung hyung can fix this mess. he can, right? that’s what echoes inside his mind.

“angel...” he gulps and you noticed how he’s a little off right now. he’s far from the reserve and calm, heeseung you’re used to.

he looks... anxious. the fear and trepidation flashes clearly through his eyes. something you’ve never seen before.

“tell me what’s wrong, hmm? we’ll talk about it.” he says using his calmest tone. “we’ll figure things out.”

that caught you off-guard. if there’s something about these four men have in common is that they love being in control of you. they get off seeing fear and watching you submit to them.

so to hear him saying those words are new for you. talk? will they really listen? what if they just laugh at you if you opened it up to them.

those questions clouded your mind to the point that you didn’t notice jake approaching closer. heeseung wanted to stop him, but he knew there’s no preventing jake from getting close. its either he lets him or he’ll completely lose it.

jake’s warm hands wraps over your wrist is what snaps you back in to your senses.

“sweets...” he calls you. his eyes scanned your face and wait if you’ll resist his affection once again.

he gulps, hope igniting when you didn’t shove his hold off. he took a step closer and this time cups your face. your cheeks warm that sent comfort to jake.

“tell us what’s wrong...” he whispers, pleading. he rest his forehead on top of yours and shut his eyes. “please.” he added.

that made you cry. because you got scared. you’re afraid to confront them because it may end everything.

“what a-am i to you, really?” you started that caught them off-guard.

“y-you guys...” they kept their stares right at your face, waiting attentively to what you’re about to say.

“you treat me like a toy. you’re playing with me like as if i d-don’t have feelings.”

if the scene moments ago hurts them, then this surely broke everything in them. they were silent for a while. reflecting to all the things they’ve done so far to you. yes, they were a little less insolent the other day, but what they did to you probably made you misunderstand it.

jake was the first one to retract, “what? no, sweetheart.” he licks his lips and cares your cheeks gently. he shakes his head continuously.

“we...” he gulps, nervous. he locks his gaze at you and softens, tears brimming his eyes. “i love you.” he blurted out that made you hitch your breath.

that obviously is not what you expected to get from him. specially from jake. he’s the player, always have girls around him. you’ve never heard him say those words to anyone.

your eyes stares right at his desperate ones, trying to search for any traces of mischief over them. but none. sincerity and desperation is all you can see through them.

a warm hand rests at the small of your back then someone rests his forehead at the side of your head. his familiar manly scent invades your nose.

jay’s eyes are tightly closed when you try to glance at him. his jaw clenched hard as his hand bore onto your back.

“i’m sorry if you misunderstood us, baby. that’s not how we want things to escalate.” he mumbles so softly. nuzzling close to you, like as if it will help ease those pain away.

it made you sob. heeseung approaches and his friends gave space for him. he grabs one of your hand and caress it. while staring at your eyes, he placed a gentle kiss on it while the other two boys tries to hugs you. jake’s got his face buries on the crook of your neck, jay remains standing beside you.

“i’m sorry, angel. we...” he couldn’t continue right away. he gulps. “we didn’t know this is how you feel.”

tears streams down your face. continuously. and your chest aches, but this time its for a different reason. you didn’t expect any of these. you imagined them scoffing and laughing at you for actually catching feelings for them. they basically mistreated you.

jake tightens his hug on you, refusing to let go. his warmth envelopes you. jay has his hand placed at the small of your back, caressing it up and down. heeseung has your hand, kissing it from time to time.

the three of them whispered their sorries. they totally feel bad. as your eyes roams around, it caught sunghoon’s.

he’s still standing at his place. didn’t move a step. he’s just there, watching all of this unfold. his heart aches, that’s for sure. he wanted to come close to you too just like how his friends are trying to console you, but his feet are stoned.

he cannot do it. he’s afraid.

out of all of them, he’s the meanest. he says the most hurtful and degrading words towards you. of course, he meant none of them. he’s just caught up in the moment and to the thought of dominating you.

his heart drops at the sight of your tear stained eyes. all those times he’s been rough on you flashes back through his mind like a montage. he hates it. he hates himself.

heeseung whips his head back to look over his shoulder. he can see how sunghoon has his fists balled. how he looked scared. he’s never seen him this way.

“dude.” he calls.

jake lifts his head to look at his friend, jay’s watching too. sunghoon kept silent, his lips shaken.

“h-hoon?” you called him out, now starting to feel worried by how he’s acting.

sunghoon’s eyes stings as it heats up. he knew he’s tearing up, but he won’t let you see him shed tears. not because he’s trying to mask it ouy, but 'cause he knew it will make you even sadder. he’s scared that he will cause more damage.

his eyes met his heeseung hyung and he nods with a small encouraging smile. the four of them grew up together. they’ve known each other their whole life, so he knew why sunghoon’s not approaching.

its not because he’s mad. he’s being careful. and sunghoon’s never been like this towards someone.

sunghoon gulps then take small courageous steps. your eyes watch him carefully, waiting patiently.

when he’s steps away from you, his eyes softens and you saw how his hand trembles when he lifts it to touch you. he backs out, hesitating to lay his hand on you.

“i’m sorry.” he says in a low voice.

it was such a short sentence but the amount of emotion his eyes shows is enought to let you know that he has so many more that he wants to say.

your eyes scanned his face. slowly, you laid your hand out for him. its a way to let him know that its fine and that you allow him to touch you.

his eyes darts at it. he contemplates, but eventually reaches out. your warm hands sent comfort to sunghoon’s cold ones. it gave him life.

“i’m sorry, pretty. w-we’re really sorry.” he mumbles as he buries his face on your neck. his big figure almost covers you up from heeseung’s perspective.

they watch silently. thankful that you’re just too nice to even let them be this close to you. they exchange look to each other and knew they had to do something to make it up to you.

“forgive us, angel. we’ll do better from now on.” heeseung says and rest his big hands on your hip.

you looked at him and kept silent.

honestly, you’ve been thinking of ending it between them. the amount of stress and overthinking you’ve been going through because of them was unhealthy. you promised that after confronting them and if they confirmed that they’re just here for the fun, you’ll bolt out.

but... this is totally a big turn of events.

your lips stretched a little. a subtle gentle smile, but still visible to their eyes are what relieved them.

“okay.”

jake rushes closer and kisses your cheeks multiple times. “really, sweets? thank you! i love you!” he excitedly mumbled between his kisses.

you felt sunghoon’s big strong arms wrapping tightly around your waist.

“thanks, baby. we will try our best.” jay caught your attention when he rest his hand on top of your head, giving it light taps.

the corner of his lips lifts before leaning to kiss you on the lips. “i love you.” he whispers, like he doesn’t want the other boys to hear. like it was only meant for you.

jake steps in, the sulky boy in him coming out. “kiss me on the lips too!” he argues and pouts his plump lips.

jay snorted and swat his arms. you chuckles and lets him lean in for a swift kiss. his eyes sparkling after that smooch.

heeseung’s hands digs on your hip as he leans silently to drop a kiss on your lips. it was soft and lasts for a few seconds. when he pulls away, he remains close and smiles.

“thank you, angel. we’ll be good boyfriends. right?” he says and looks at his friends which they responded with nods.

you blushed, “b-boyfriends?” surprised.

heeseung smirks then nods, “you’re our girl.” he pinches your cheeks lightly. “not some toy.”

sunghoon places a kiss on your neck then pulls away. his eyes bores to you. they glisten affection and relief.

“our pretty girl.” he whispers and dips his head to give you a feathery hot kiss on the lips.

your eyes opens when he pulls away.

“we need to work on our issues in order for this to work. we don’t want another misunderstanding like this.” heeseung announces.

“do you have anything else you don’t like, angel? except from us being total assholes...” he cleared his throat.

your mind wonders. “i d-didn’t like what we did the last time. its o-overwhelming...”

they all looked at you with cute eyes then jay chuckles. “i mean she did passed out that time. her stamina couldn’t handle it.” he says.

heeseung nods, “at least we get to try it once, right?” he smirks, the memories of the night still lingers to his mind.

you blushed and glanced away.

“is that all, angel?”

you look back at heeseung and nodded.

“please stop being aggressive.” you reminded, ears turning red.

they almost cooed at how adorable you looked.

“we promise.” they say almost in unison then approaches for a group hug with you in the middle, making sure they aren’t squishing you too much.

“but we can still do threesome, right?” jake asks innocently that made all of you whip your heads at his direction.

“jake!” they all hissed at him for still being horny despite the wholesome situation that only made you chuckle.

“hi!” you shyly greets when you saw heeseung outside of your house, leaning over his black audi.

its monday morning and you’re beyond surprise to receive a text message from him saying he’ll be picking you up for school. of course you got excited. this will be the first time.

“good morning, beautiful.” he smirks and snakes his arms around your waist to pull you closer.

your cheeks blushed at his words then stomach churns when he leans in for a kiss. it seems so natural. like this is your usual morning routine.

“get in.” he instruct and even open the door for you.

once inside, he swiftly walks around to ride the driver’s seat. then off you go. it was a short drive, but it isn’t awkward. heeseung’s asking questions from time to time to start a conversation while a low music plays on his radio.

the moment his car enters the parking area designated for the students, you saw familiar boys. jay’s leaning over his car while jake and sunghoon bickers about something.

“oh they’re early.” you mumble because usually you arrive first.

heeseung’s always on time since he’s the school’s president. jay and jake arrives at school just on time. sunghoon’s the one always late, unless he have his morning practices.

their heads whips at your direction once they heard the familiar blaring of heeseung’s car. jake turns his back over hoon then waves like an excited puppy. he for sure cannot see you yet as the car is heavily tinted, but it made you smile. he’s so cute.

he’s on your side of the door once heeseung’s done parking it. he waits until the car’s unlocked and then open it for you.

“sweetheart!” he greets happily then hugs you.

heeseung shakes his head while smirking then unclasped your seatbelt for you as you’re busy greeting jake, returning his hug.

jay and sunghoon walks closer as well then hoon went to grab your things from the backseat. he naturally carries it, letting one strap hangs on his arm.

“hey, baby.” jay greets and placed a kiss on your cheek.

“hi jay.”

“i arrived earlier than both of them!” jake interrupts, proudly letting you know how he’s very punctual today.

“wow, that’s great jakey.” you complimented him and his eyes sparkles.

“yeah, right. you’re so childish.” sunghoon commented before leaning towards you for his kiss.

all of you walks on the hallways together. sunghoon and heeseung’s is a few steps ahead while jake’s beside you telling you about his dog. even showing you her cute pictures and bragging how she’s the smartest dog ever. which sunghoon quickly argues that his dog is much better.

jay’s on your other side, silently listening to his friend’s playful banters. he’s very used to it already and slowly, you too.

curious eyes follows the five of you. there’s a hint of surprise and judgment through them. some are whispering, some just stares with mouth slightly gapped and others just don’t care.

honestly, it bothers you. their eyes carefully watching you is making you uneasy. it felt so weird being watched that it makes you wonder how these boys got used to this.

jake’s warm hand envelops yours that caught your attention. he smiles, his red plump lips distracting you.

“don’t mind them, sweets. they’re just jealous.” he whispers, eyes staring straight at yours.

with blushing cheeks, you blinked twice. “w-why? because i’m with you guys?”

he shakes his head and leans closer, his lips grazing your ears that made your stomach drop. “because you’re ours.”

to say that your face turns red is an understatement. your heart races and he just winks then continues talking about other things.

when you arrived at the classroom, they’re all looking curiously. wondering why these boys are acting this way around you. as far as they remember, they used to bully you around. basically why you end up becoming a loner.

“here, pretty.” sunghoon says and placed your things at the side of the chair. you thanked him and he just smiled before walking to his seat.

jay and heeseung did the same but jake remains near you, pouting hardly.

“can’t i move seats?” he complains.

you chuckle and cares his arm, “go to your seat now, jakey.”

he sighs and wants to lean to give a kiss but stops himself. you did talked about them not to do pda in public or at least when around a lot of people. not everyone is open for this kind of relationship, you just don’t want any issues.

“jake, stop being sulky and sit down.” jay calls him then rolls his eyes.

the said boy just raises his fist and showed his middle finger to his friend. you chuckled and just sat down so jake can go to his chair.

eventually, the homeroom teacher walks inside for morning reminders. she mentioned the upcoming fieldtrip which slightly riles you up. you’re excited to go at the museums and such.

during the breaktime, the boys accompanied you. sunghoon and jake to be specific. the other two are busy on student council so its just the three of you.

“what do you want to eat, doll?” sunghoon asks while pulling a chair for you.

jake’s playing with the edge of your hair while watching you carefully.

“anything is fine.”

hoon nods once, “i’ll order for you.”

“thank you, hoon.” with a smile.

he smirks then squeezed your hand before walking off. jake and you sat down at the table.

“did heeseung hyung told you already?” he starts.

“about?”

“he’s taking you out on a date later.” he says casually while doing something to his phone. his forehead narrows, very focus.

“a d-date?”

he hums, answering your question with a short nod. he’s not looking at you, still hooked to his phone. “where?”

he shrugs, “have no idea.”

your heart hammered just by the thought of going on a date with thee lee heeseung. yes, they did said that they’ll make it up to you and that confirmed your relationship with them, but sometimes it still don’t sink in.

they’re your boyfriends...

your eyes caught the glimpse of what jake’s doing and you got distracted. its a picture of you. that was the first time you saw it.

“is that me?”

jake whips his head at you then smiled, “yes! i’m putting you as my wallpaper.” then he clicked something before locking it and opening the screen to show you.

its a candid picture of you. you forgot when it was, but it was obvious that you’re unaware of him taking that photo. you’re focused on something.

“beautiful, isn’t it?” his smug smirk looked adorable. he cocked his eyebrow once, smirking wider. “that’s my girlfriend.”

you blushed even harder. “stop it.”

he chuckled, finding you adorable. instead of stopping, he stared more intensely making you even more flustered.

“j-jake..” and you glance away.

“fine, i’ll stop.” finally, he glances away, his big grin not wiping off.

sunghoon arrives afterwards and the three of you enjoys the time together before going back to your class.

during your vacant, some of your classmates are doing random things inside the room. you find it a waste to just do nothing and remembered about the history assignment.

you stood up and instantly, four heads whips at your direction. when the bell rang and one of the students announced that it was your vacant, they all naturally gathered around you.

“where are you going?” they almost ask at the same time.

“a-at the library.” you answered, shy that all of their attention is now directed at you. its slowly becoming a habit, but that’s something you will never get used to.

“i’ll go with you.” heeseung was quick to stand up and fix his uniform slightly before carding his soft black hair once.

you gulped, “o-okay...” and your eyes dropped at the three boys who remains sitting down.

sunghoon smiles, “see you later, doll. i’m sleepy.” he reasons then leans over his table.

jay just smiled. jake have this pout on his lips. “i really want to co—” his words got interrupted when jay covered his mouth.

“shut up.”

heeseung covers your line of sight from them then flashes this soft smile. “let’s go?” he says and just like being hypnotized by his gaze, you nod your head.

heeseung ushered you to the library, asking what you’re going there for. once informed about the assignment, he said that he’s already finished with his so he’ll just help you.

you can’t help but to be at awe for this man. can he be more perfect? he’s good in everything.

he find you guys a vacant table and asked you to sit down. he said he will look for the book he used and you thanked him. it didn’t took long before you saw him walking back with a handful of books. strangely, he fits this image well.

you’re in complete trance when he walked closer then placed it on the table. he then started pointing the references he used and told you that you can gather information from those articles then summarize it to your own words.

that was plenty for you. considering it will save you time doing this assignment. with a small smile you thank him then proceed on focusing on the task. heeseung sat beside you and watch how your brows draws closer.

his grin grew wider and fingers starting playing through his lower lip. his stares never left you then it slowly trailed down from your brows to your nose and then lips. those damn lips...

he inhaled and licked his lip, cleared his throat in the most silent way.

now, he went here with you with the most genuine intention of helping you. but then his thoughts are starting to wonder into something... inappropriate.

you did said that you only disapprove of them being mean and aggressive, right? being horny is not mentioned. so you probably won’t mind if he fingers you knuckle deep right now.

god, just by thinking of it, heeseung’s already salivating.

besides, its not his fault that you look so innocent and very pretty looking all serious.

he rests his hand on your thigh that made you jolt in surprise. you blinked twice then turns your head at his direction. he’s giving you this lazy look while biting over his lips.

your chest hammered and stomach churns when he started caressing your thighs gently. making sure you can feel his rough palms rubbing against your exposed skin.

“h-heeseung...”

he raised an eyebrow, “yes, angel?” he asks innocently like as if he’s not doing trailing his hands upwards into your inner skirt.

“w-we’re in the library...” and you roam your eyes trying to check if there’s people near enough to get suspicious of what’s going on under the table.

“exactly. go study.” he says with a grin.

“w-what are you doing? they might see—”

“shh, don’t worry. just be a good girl and do your assignment, okay?” and he leans to drop a kiss on the side of your head, ushering you to continue doing your work.

after staring at him for a while and realizing he ain’t going to stop, you decided to just go with it. besides, you can’t hide the arousing feeling that slowly poisoning your whole system. your head starting to get fuzzy, core getting wet as he started to trace the line of your pussy.

you hummed, teeth sunk onto your lower lip in attempt to stop any moans that wants to come out. “ungh,”

he chuckles sexily, “try to be quiet. we’re at the library after-all.” he whispered.

he pulls his hand out then gave it a lick before dipping it back in. “open your legs for me, please.” he demanded in a very soft tone.

you’re already in deep thoughts, unable to even respond properly and just obliged his dirty desires. once he have a better access, heeseung pushes your underwear to touch you bare.

his fingers are hot and rough. feels so good. he started on your clit, rubbing it in a very delicious way.

“fuck, you’re so wet.” he curses, enjoying how your face contorts out of pleasure. pleasure that he’s currently giving you.

“h-hee..” you calls him.

he smirks, loving the way you’re so needy for his fingers.

“all right, i'm going in angel. focus on your assignment.” he stated like as if its even possible to do that. but you tried to pull yourself together. heaved a sigh then looked at the books in front of you. none of the words made sense, but that’s not important.

your mouth slightly gaps as he inserted one finger inside you. the stretch felt so good it makes you want to moan loudly.

“shh.” he reminded, chuckling.

he’s enjoying it. he’s loving it as much as you’re loving being finger fucked.

he didn’t stopped and put another finger. he let it rest inside, trying to take time feeling your tightness around his long fingers. he wants to imagine it to be his dick and he bet it will feel heaven. he shove that thought right away, he needs to focus on you.

“you’re so tight around me, angel.” he whispered huskily. “even after being fucked by all of us, you’re still so fucking tight.” he started talking in nasty way.

the way he say it in a calm tone just hits in a different way. you gulped and breath out, calming yourself.

“p-please.”

he smirks and gave you another kiss on the side of your head. he started moving his fingers that almost sent your soul out of your body. the way his fingers moved in and out in your tight hole just feels perfect.

he continues, slowly catching his pace that just added to your pleasure. one of your hand grips over his thighs, squishing it that he quickly find adorable.

“how i wish its my tongue inside that hole, angel.” he says that he truly means.

you whimpered lowly and tried to keep your eyes open. the words on the book starting to became blurry. it went on for a while until you feel a knot forming on your stomach. a sign that you’re already close.

“heeseung...” you calls out.

he chuckles then rutt his fingers even faster making you whimper softly. you glance at him and he already knew that you’re close. from the way your eyes are half-lidded and teeth digging unto your lips, you are definitely about to release.

he fucks deeper and just a few moments after you came to his fingers, head hanging low and grip over his thighs tightening. you shake lightly that made him chuckle, leaning his head closer to kiss you by the head.

“you did so well.” he complimented then kept on thrusting in and out in a slow pace, helping you ride your high.

once you calmed down, he pulls it out making you wine. he stares at you then shamelessly took his fingers over his lips to suck it. your eyes grew and cheeks blushed hardly.

“heeseung!”

he smirks, “i deserve a reward, don’t you think?” then he winks at you making you lose your mind. he’s going to be the death of you.

“bye baby.” jay smiles and kisses you gently before moving away to give way for sunghoon. he’s already holding his helmet by one of his hand.

“bye, pretty.” he says with a playful grin over you.

you smiled before pouting, “please drive safely.”

his eyes soften after what you said and leans in again for another kiss. “i will, i promise.”

you nodded and a sulking jake came into your view.

“bye sweets.” he says half-heartedly that made you chuckle then insisted for a kiss just to ease his bad mood.

sunghoon rolls his eyes then grabbed his sulking friend by his uniform and drag him out of there. jake complains and started to argue, but jay helped to drag him away.

heeseung sighs and snaked his arm over your waist, “let’s go?”

you glance at him then nod your head once before going to his car. he opened the door like always and guides your inside.

“where are we going?”

he glances, “i’m taking you to our small vacation house by the lake.” he smiles.

you smiled back, “hmm. okay.”

“i called your mom and told her i’ll get you home a little late.”

“you called her?” you’re surprised he even remembered telling it to her.

“yes. i don’t want her to be worried or get you in trouble.” he says while eyes fixed at the road.

you pout your lips and looked at more with so much adoration. that was so sweet of him. you can feel your heart races and butterflies going crazy inside your stomach.

heesueng notices your stares and chuckles, “why?”

you shake your head, “its just you’re so sweet. it makes my heart melt.”

his smile grew wider, totally proud that he made you feel more special.

“anything for you.”

he said it will took a bit time to get there so you guys went to drive thru so he can buy some food you can eat while on the way. while on the way, you naturally fall into conversations, giggling and teasing each other.

it feels so good. heeseung used to be very intimidating for you. his serious demeanor and the way he seems so calm about everything just makes you feel agitated around him. but eventually, he starts to feel warm. like someone you can entrust yourself fully. they all feel that way, honestly. but heeseung’s the most reliable one, you must admit.

when he noticed your eyelids looking heavier, he chuckles and told you that you can sleep for a while.

“but how about you?” feeling a little bad that you’ll leave him driving.

he smiles assuringly, “i’ll be fine, angel.”

and with that you slowly dozed off. he lets you sleep until you’re already pulling over the driveway of their small vacation house. its not particularly small. its actually above average, but maybe for people like him who probably have many vacation houses, this is small for him.

“careful.” he mumbled and quickly reaches for your hand when the rocky path greets you.

the house is very cozy and simple. the clear view of the lake can be seen from the big glass windows. it was beautiful.

“you can go roam around while i set our food inside the fridge.” heeseung says then kisses you at the head before heading to the kitchen.

your eyes wanders around with curiosity and admiration. everything looks expensive. your eyes darted at the table filled with picture frames. with full curiosity, your feet trudges closer.

“wow...” was the first word that came out from your mouth. you can see pictures of their family. his dad and mom. him and his older brother.

“cutie!” you exclaimed when you saw heeseung’s baby picture. he does resembles him that you can tell right away that it was him.

your smiling ear to ear then fished your phone to take a snap of that pic. after getting satisfied with your shots, you slowly head over the small balcony where you can see the lake.

“wow, its so refreshing.” you mumble under your breath then leaned over the railings, letting the wind blow onto you.

you jolted when a pair of arms wrapped over your waist. “enjoying the view?”

“y-yes.”

heeseung kisses your cheeks then place his chin on your shoulder. the two of you admired the view while holding that position. the breeze is kind of cold, but heeseung’s hug kept you warm.

“do you want to walk around for a bit before we start dinner?” he asks then finally pulls away.

your eyes sparkles, “yes!”

he chuckles, finding you adorable then leans down. “give me a kiss first.”

your cheeks blushed then blinked twice. the two of your stares at each other for a while until you decided to give in to his request. a big satisfied smile spread across his handsome face then stand back up.

“let’s go.” and he intertwined your fingers.

looking at the lake in a much nearer distance gave you comfort and peace. you never thought watching the soft currence while holding heeseung’s warm hands can make your heart race.

“do you know when i started liking you?” heeseung breaks the silence.

you craned your neck to glance at him, eyes flashing curiosity. “when?”

he stares at your for a while before chuckling lightly then pinching your cheeks.

“you look adorable, but i have to resist. come on, try to guess.”

his compliment and how he said that using his softest tone soothes something in your heart. it made you blush instantly. despite all of it, you tried to guess like how he requested.

“when you started this thing with me?” that was the first one that came in your mind.

you barely remember any interaction with lee heeseung before all of this.

his brows narrowed, “this thing?” he sighs. “relationship, angel. that’s how you call it properly.” he says using a salty tone.

you chuckled and just nods as acknowledgement. he kept his stares, his eyes returning to being gentle and full of affection. a small genuine smile then appears over his lips.

heeseung’s out of words to describe how precious you are for him. he’s usually good on saying the things he wanted to say, but with you his thoughts are starting to be messed up. there’s just so much he wanted to say yet he don’t know where to start.

“it was on seventh grade.” he stated that made your lips gap.

7th grade? but you’re already on eleventh grade. still surprised, you cannot say anything.

“during that time i experienced my first loss. it may be nothing for a normal high-school kid, but for someone who comes from a perfectionist family who doesn’t accept defeat, it is a pretty big deal.”

instantly, you feel slightly bad. of course, you’ve heard about his family. they are pretty strict when it comes to him. maybe that’s why he’s very reserved because he has no time for failure. they’ve put too much pressure on him.

your free hand extends and travels from his arm towards his neck, up to his face. slowly, he relaxes to your touch.

“i remember feeling so worthless while staring blankly at my silver medal.” he resumes telling you the story.

“while i stare with despair at it, already imagining the disappointed look from my father, someone approaches me.” he stops.

“guess who?” he smirks. “i'll give you a clue.” then smirk grew wider.

“she’s very pretty and currently holding me softly right now.”

“me?” you wonder.

he nods. “you were pretty amazed at my silver medal.” he states, a big smile on his face now.

just the emotion he was showing was enough to tell how delighted he is by reminiscing that moment.

“i was actually annoyed at first because i thought you were mocking me.” he chuckled and you pout jokingly.

“hey, you’re so judgemental.”

he shrugs his shoulders. “can’t blame me, angel. i was still very introverted that time.”

“you’re still a little introvert now.”

he cocked his eyebrow and you did the same thing, staring back. that made him chuckle.

“okay, maybe you’re right.” he surrenders then drop a kiss on your forehead.

“and then what happened?” you curiously asked.

he smiled. “then i told you harshly that what’s so great for second place?” he continued.

you grow silent then tries hard to recall the memory.

“and then you said,” you glanced at him, eyes starting to water a bit.

“that there’s nothing wrong with being second place. that it doesn’t mean that you failed or you didn’t won. that instead of being sad, you should take it as a chance to become better. that it only means you still have a room to grow.” you finished it that made him smile.

“right...”

“hee...” eyes brimming with tears already. “that was years ago.” you stated, couldn’t believe that he started to get interested that time.

his eyes dropped at your intertwined hand and he raised it to gently place a kiss on top of it.

“hee...” you mumbled again, this time voice cracking a little.

he smiles, “sorry if we approached you the wrong way. we just really don’t know what to do.” his eyes sparkles, getting a bit teary as well.

“i-it’s okay... i didn’t know.”

he chuckles, “obviously. you’re too dense to notice.”

“hey!” you playfully shoot him glares that he just laughed at before leaning in to give you a kiss.

the two of you stared at each other affectionately, enough to communicate what your hearts wants to tell one another.

“i know that with all the responsibilities and the expectation from your parents, it felt heavy. like you feel that you can’t be flawed.” you started.

“but for me you’re just perfect the way you are. with your achievements and failures.” those words tugs his heartstrings, a tear escaping his eye.

the moment you two steps inside the vacation house, heeseung’s lips are attached to you. his kisses are gentle yet passionate. his hands holds you closely to his hot body.

his kisses moves from your lips, down to your chin then neck making sure to suck on your skin making you moan, fingers tangled on his hair.

he slid his arm over your legs then carries you towards the bedroom. he went back to your lips and kisses you once again.

he gently placed you on the bed hovering above you, his hand starting to remove your clothes. and you let him.

when he pulls away, you try to even chase him that made him chuckle.

“wait, angel. i’ll just remove my clothes.”

your eyes trailed down his now erect member.

“d-do you want me to...?”

he smiles then shakes his head, “no. today, its just about you.”

then he kisses you again, resuming on discarding every clothing that you still have on you. once fully unclothed, he positions himself in front of you. he started rubbing his head on your now wet core.

your brows narrowed and whimpers sexily.

“i’ll go in now, okay?” he glanced at you and a nod is all you gave him.

and while your eyes staring back at each other, heeseung pushes his dick inside. the stretch feels so good, his thick cock making you moan his name. it made him satisfied, hearing you getting comfortable on letting out your moans.

“that’s right, let me hear you.” he whispered then pinned your hand on the sides, intertwining his fingers to yours.

he lets you get more comfortable with having him inside and connects his lips on yours again, couldn’t get enough of your lips. his tongue pushes in, wanting to taste every insides of your mouth.

when he started to move, your head starts to get blank. nothing inside but the man above you and making you feel this good.

he slides in and out. starting with a slow pace then going faster. he thrusts deep and fast sending so much pleasure.

“heeseung...” you moaned after his lips moves away.

“i love you, angel.” he suddenly said that made your heart jumped. you didn’t have the chance to say anything as he leans in for a peck.

“i love you so damn much.” and then start thrusting even faster.

“i...” you pursed your lips, eyes shuts as the pleasure from his dick takes away your ability to think and speak properly.

“i..” you attempted again, opening your eyes so you can look at his pretty face.

“love you too...” you finally finished it.

heeseung’s heart thumped faster and he fucked you even harder. he smiles and leans in for another heated kiss. he loves and adore you.

he continues drilling his cock inside until he felt you tightening around him, indicating the approaching release. he kisses your chin.

“cumming for me, angel?”

you open your mouth, “yes. feel so good.”

he smirks, “i know. pussy so good for me.” and then he rut his cock deeper.

“i’m cumming too..” he announces, feeling the knot on his stomach.

“cum with me.” he orders then attach his lips before going rapidly.

not long after you came around heeseung then he filled you with his hot cum. he pulls away to look at your fucked out face, brushing off some hair. he smiles.

“i love you.” he whispers, still going in and out but in a slower pace. riding both your highs.

you opened your eyes and reaches for his face. this time, you lift your head to give him a sweet kiss with a smile on your face. then you laid back down, staring lovingly at him.

his thrust starts to go faster again and a playful smirk spreads across his handsome face, some of his hairs sticks on his forehead due to sweat.

“round two, angel.” and then you let out a whimper from both pleasure and overstimulation.

the two of you spent the rest of the time just going for each other. heeseung making sure you felt how special you are for him.

lee heeseung is scared of failing. always aiming to be the best and to be perfect. he’s too obsessed on pleasing his parents to the point that he almost lose himself. but with you, he felt at ease. he felt safe and confident knowing that despite all his flaws and just being his true self, he’s still admirable.

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[lowkeylaufeysons]

forget me not

Caleb loses his memories, again. It turns out he's even more embarrassing about you without his memories.

caleb/afab!mc | xia yizhou/afab!mc

author's note: this is pure teeth rotting fluff. the power of love baybee, established relationship, i just wanted to write caleb being even sappier because he's high from painkillers, not proofread or beta'd, happy ending.

The light above Caleb's bed blinds him when he wakes up, piercing through his skull. It's aggravatingly bright, and he would really like to return back to nothing, thank you very much. Who the fuck interrupted the best sleep of his life?

He tries to swallow around the sandpaper in his throat, but he can barely move. He doesn't even know if he can open his eyes, settling instead for a half-assed groan.

Explosion, he thought, I had to escape...where?

"You're awake!" a voice cuts through the fog, "Caleb oh my god--".

Slowly the room comes into a sort of focus, and Caleb vaguely registers that he's in a medical facility of some kind. Not again. Before he can panic though, he turns to the sound of the voice and that's when he sees it.

There's an goddess sitting on his bed, holding his hand.

Caleb's heart starts to race, and the monitor next to him beeps angrily. There are purple shadows underneath her eyes from crying, was it something he did? and she's clearly exhausted, but there's no doubt about it. He had been sent a literal angel. Angels are real.

His jaw drops and he stares at her, mouth agape.

The angel looks at him, gaze searching his face, "Caleb are...are you alright? You probably don't remember but--".

Oh my god even her voice is perfect. Caleb thinks. Before he can stop himself, he blurts out-

" Who are you? Are you an angel?"

--

All around the room, jaws drop.

Your eyes widen in shock at Caleb's question. Zayne had warned you that he would likely be very disoriented when he woke up, and that his memories may not be fully intact after removing the Toring chip. You were prepared for that possibility when you signed his surgery waiver, after all, you were more concerned that Caleb was alive and free of the chip, even if it meant forgetting everything that you had built together.

But this wasn't what you were expecting.

Caleb continues to stare at you in wonder as he takes you in, purple eyes slowly going over your form, a look of naked innocent awe as he brings your hands to his cheek. Despite a lifetime together, you've never gotten used to the full intensity of his gaze.

"I must be dead..." he whispers, nuzzling your hand. "There's an angel here to take me away this time at least...right? That's what you're here for?"

Gideon leans forward, grinning, "Oh he's so high."

An emotion you can't name threatens to burst out of your chest.

His speech is slurred, but he continues to nuzzle into your hand, a dopey smile making its way across his lips. Suddenly he groans.

"Oh my god, you even smell good," Caleb declares, "You must be God's favorite. Seriously though, am I dead? If I'm not dead, why did they send a model to my room?"

Gideon starts laughing, "He's even more embarrassing stoned, holy shit".

--

Caleb didn't know that angels could blush. She's looking at him in shock, face warm, so lovely. So lovely, and she smells so good. In his delirium he can't place it, but he wants to live in the scent forever. If he's dead well, he better try to savor this feeling for as long as he can before it all turns to nothing.

She's trying to respond to him, but all she can manage is a very eloquent, "...What?" before turning to the door as a man with black hair steps in.

"You're not dead," this black haired man who looks like a doctor says, " She's your fiancee."

Caleb snorts in derision, "There's no fucking way. Me? Engaged to her? I'm dead and my head hurts, but I'm not stupid."

The doctor, Zayne or whatever based on his name tag, flips through a chart before turning to address her. "We don't know the full extent of his memory loss yet, but his physical signs are trending in the right direction. This is good."

He turns back to Caleb with a sigh, "I swear on my medical license. She's your fiancee. You're also not dead. Now can you sit up? I just need to run some assessments,"

-

Caleb looks at you, fingers tightening around your hand. "It's not funny to lie to someone," he insists. "Angel, are you both making fun of me?".

With some effort, you help Caleb move to a sitting position. He starts a little at the feeling of your hand on his bare back, and you can see his cheeks and ears flush red.

The entire time that Zayne runs his tests, Caleb stares you with a mixture of joy and disbelief. His mouth seems to be on autopilot, unfiltered sentences praising your looks, your voice, the clothes you're wearing, the entire time mumbling about how lucky he was. He's overjoyed when you slip his dogtags back on him, marveling out loud at how of course you picked the perfect gift for him. He listens with rapt attention as you describe your shared apartment, his proposal, the past few years. When you scroll to the engagement photos on your phone, his eyes well up.

"There's just no way. How did I get so lucky? My fiancee is you? You're perfect."

It's all a little bit much, and you giggle. You're not sure how it's possible, but Caleb smiles even harder upon hearing you. "You think I'm perfect?" you ask. "Really?"

With great effort, Caleb sits up straighter, " I know you're perfect. God you're so-- you're so-- really??? I'm going to be your husband?". Out of the corner of your eye, you see Zayne roll his eyes. Caleb had always been forthcoming with complimenting and praising you, but this was on a whole other level.

You clasp both of his hands in yours. "Look, here's the ring." It's a beautiful band, with stones that you had picked together. He had confessed afterwards that he had purchased the centerpiece with the first few paychecks he got from the DAA, and had been holding onto it ever since. "I'm your fiancee Caleb, I've been waiting for you to wake up from your operation."

Suddenly, he scowls, "I made you wait? God, I'm sorry I should've---" his voice falters as he suddenly looks at your lips, "You're-- can we...kiss? I can kiss my wife right? Can I kiss you?"

Wife.

You laugh, "We can kiss as much as you want", you say as you gently hold his face and press your lips to his.

Just like your first kiss, he stares at you after you pull away, his eyes filled with adoration. It reminds you of how the Caleb is when it's just the two of you, open, honest, exuberant, as warm as a beautiful summer day.

"Holy shit" he whispered, "We're gonna ...I'm not dreaming. You're real."

His exhaustion catches up to him, and he sinks back into the pillows. "Do I....have I treated you right?"

Your heart catches at the question. Despite his addled state, you can hear a trace of fear creep into his voice. The guilt and self-hatred omnipresent in his mind. Softened now, but forever there. His ever present concern for you, despite the state he was in, brings tears to your eyes.

"You're actually a stupid jerk sometimes, but you do," you say, "I love you so much."

His eyes start to flutter close, "Oh good...I have to...keep doing that. I gotta be with you forever."

You lean to kiss his forehead, "I need you forever too. Please stay by my side."

-

"Who are you? Are you an angel?"

Caleb groans as the crowd turns to the screen. Gideon promised a surprise was involved in his best man speech and could he pretty please use a projector too? Unbeknownst to Caleb, Gideon had managed to record the entire episode, and now he's playing it at max volume at your wedding.

"I'm dead and my head hurts, but I'm not stupid."

You turn to him, beaming, " You know I'm going to use this against you for the rest of our lives right?"

He scoffs in mock outrage, "As if you didn't already have enough ammo against me,"

The ammunition is my heart, my soul, it was promised to you since we met.

"I've always made it clear that I love you."

"Yeah but you think I'm an angel, literally sent from the heavens."

Caleb presses a kiss to your forehead, "That's what I thought since the moment we were kids, when we first met. Now I'm the lucky man with an angel for a wife."

When we first met in that sterile room, I knew my destiny was always going to be intertwined with you, is what he doesn't say out loud.

But it's always been obvious hasn't it?

a/n: This was originally way angstier at first but I scrapped all the backstory (it involved a ship exploding and like end-of-life flashbacks). Slinking back to my cave to write Xavier/MC/Caleb next I think. Reblogs and comments and likes are always appreciated!

divider is from CafeKitsune

[hedwig221b]

Hello! First, I want to say that I absolutely adore all of your fics, and I love your recommendations. I was wondering if you have any super long Derek fics, I'm not picky on tropes. I just love long fics, peferably 50k or over! Thank you :)

Hi! Thank you so much! I don't know if you wanted Derek-centric fics, or if that was just a typo, so I put together a list of sterek fics over 50k words. Lmk if you wanted Derek-centric ones!

This one's very long...

If You're Lost, You Can Look and You Will Find Me by DaisyBeats

Derek left once the Nogitsune had been defeated, needing to get away from that god forsaken town. 18 year old Stiles is just trying to get through the rest of his senior year without killing his 'best friend' Scott… and missing Derek too much. Stiles goes home one day to find a young man sitting on his bed with no idea how he got there. "Derek?!"

Again, From the Middle by rlnerdgirl

One would think the nogitsune rearing its ugly head again twelve years after having arrived in Stiles’ life the first time would have been the worst of his problems. Surprisingly, or not, it’s the beginning of them. In the aftermath of trying to find a solution to eradicate a thing that cannot be killed, Stiles finds himself a stranger in a strange land. One where the nemeton is a whole tree, the Hale house isn’t burnt to a crisp, and all the Hales are alive and living little Hallmark miracle lives. It’s… disorienting to say the least. Though getting to know a Derek that’s never killed, never been a victim, and never lost is an entirely different matter altogether. It’d be the perfect world, if it were his. For better or worse, Stiles has a world and a home of his own. A dad, friends, and thriving entrepreneurial employment that he’s left behind. All, hopefully, sans nogitsune. Unless he managed to mess that up along with displacing himself. Of course, getting back isn’t nearly as easy as getting… wherever he is. Partly because he has no clue how he got here.

My Name is Derek Hale by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

"What day is it?” Derek demanded. “What?” “The day! What day is today?!” Derek let Stiles go, but only so he could reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. He tapped at the home screen, and then went so perfectly still that Stiles was pretty sure this guy wasn’t human. No human could stand that still. When it was clear Derek wasn’t going to move again without some prompting, Stiles said, “It’s Wednesday.” “That’s impossible,” Derek whispered. “Not really, it comes around every seven days.” “This is impossible,” Derek said again, looking around himself, as if he was searching for something.

Actions Speak Louder than Words by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

"I apologize.” The cop finally looked back up at his face, seeming thrilled. “It’s just—it’s been so long. And we finally have you.” That was a bad word. Not found. Have. Stiles wrenched his hand free and took a step back, but before he could even think up a gameplan, he felt a prick in his neck and jerked away, reaching up to slap one hand against it and twisting in the same moment. One of the others had come up behind him while he hadn’t been paying attention, and his vision began to swim even as his eyes caught sight of the half-empty syringe the guy was holding.

My, What Big Shoulders You Have (The Better to Help You Carry the Weight) by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

"Talia was just telling me an interesting story,” his dad informed him. Stiles didn’t have the nerve to glance over at him, because he knew no matter how much he argued, the proof was all there. The wolves had found him, Parrish had picked him up on the side of the road, he had a fucking picture on his phone. He was screwed. No point in arguing, all it’d do is piss his father off even more. “You don’t say,” Stiles offered slowly. “What uh—you know, I like stories. Is it a uh, good one?” “It seems to be a matter of opinion,” Talia said with another kind smile. “I hear you had quite the night last night.” Okay, time to cut his losses. He was already fucked, all he could do was apologize and hope she didn’t press for him to get fined and arrested. Given he was her husband’s friend’s son, he had high hopes. “I’m really sorry,” Stiles blurted out. “It was stupid and-and irresponsible and just—I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have crossed into your territory. I should’ve known better, I do know better! It was a complete lapse in judgement and I am just—I am so sorry.”

What Fresh Twilight Bullshit Is This? by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

"I am not Bella!” he insisted, shaking his fist angrily at Jackson, as if he’d been the one to suggest he was. “I am not Bella! I am, like, a Jacob, at least!” Lydia made a noise of debate from his right and he whipped around to look at her. “What?! What was that sound?!” “You’re more of a Mike,” she insisted, shrugging neatly and flipping some curls over her shoulder. “Wha—” Stiles had never been so offended in his life! “I am not! No way! I am a solid Jacob!” “Mike,” she argued. “Who’s Mike?” Scott asked. “Shut up, Scott!” Stiles insisted, pointing a finger at him but still glaring at Lydia.

Don't Savage The Messenger by exclamation

There is an uneasy truce between the werewolves in the woods and the humans who live in Beacon Hills, protected by a magical boundary that gives warning any time a werewolf crosses it. Then the sheriff is taken by the werewolves and his son offers himself in exchange. Stiles promises to serve the werewolf pack, not knowing what horrible use they might have for him. But it turns out his most useful skill is the ability to cross the boundary line between humans and werewolves. Life with the werewolves is nothing like he feared and the werewolves themselves are nothing like the hunters' stories would have him believe.

Waiting by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

Not wanting to think on it too much, Stiles took a step forward and passed his hand between the bars, moving the bleeding side closer to Derek’s mouth. “Not too close, he bites.” Stiles snatched his hand away just as Derek had been about to lick at it. The snarl he got in response was not comforting. “He what?” Stiles asked nervously, turning to Deaton. The man looked a little amused. “Don’t worry, only if he doesn’t like you.” “Well, he probably hates me, now!” Stiles insisted, turning back to Derek. He looked extremely displeased.

By Any Other Name (I Will Always Feel the Same) by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

Stiles very slowly reached up with both hands and covered his neck as best he could before whispering, “Are you Vampires?” “What? No.” Derek couldn’t help the small laugh of disbelief that slid up his throat, crossing his arms defensively over his chest. It didn’t matter that he was thousands of years old, or that he was bigger and stronger than Stiles was. Somehow, he was pretty sure once this conversation was over, Stiles was going to be able to crush him like a bug, and he hated that feeling. “Didn’t you say he was smart?” Boyd asked. “Hey,” Stiles insisted, turning to him with a glare but not removing his hands from his neck. “Vampires is a perfectly logical guess in this case. And he said I was right on the Supernatural front. Vampires are Supernatural.” “He said you weren’t wrong,” Boyd corrected. “Not that you were right.” “Well, the opposite of wrong is right, so…” Stiles gave him a look, but turned back to Derek relatively quickly, as if realizing he was delaying his own answers. “We’re not Vampires,” Derek said, then let out a small sigh before admitting, “we’re immortal.” Or: The Old Guard AU nobody asked for (except me).

the poets are right by endversed

"Actually, I don’t give a fuck who you are,” Derek says, curling his lip harshly. “This is private property. How the fuck did you even get in?” In an act of quick placation, Stiles throws up two palms facing outwards in front of his chest. His eyebrows knit together as he hastily and vehemently begins to shake his head, trying desperately to telegraph just how severely Derek has grasped at the wrong end of the stick here. “Hey, whoa,” he says. “That’s not –” “You need to get the fuck out of here before I call the cops.” Derek pauses a moment, his nostrils flaring just a second before his eyes flash burning red, his entire face screwing up in this expression of pure disgust that sends a shiver down Stiles’ spine. “Christ, and you’re a human? A human omega? What kind of fucking moron breaks into a werewolves’ house when they’re just a weak fucking human?” An alpha werewolf and a human omega: a love story that was never supposed to happen.

Divided We Stand by KouriArashi

Derek is being pressured by his family to pick a mate, and somehow stumbles into a choice that they didn't expect and aren't sure they approve of….

With Blood on Your Teeth by Melpomene (Aconitehart)

When his dad speaks, it's in a carefully neutral voice. "You saw two wolves tonight." "One wolf," Stiles corrects. "The other was messed up. It had a wolf face, yes, but it was…" He trails off, not sure how to describe the wrongness of it. The way its muscles moved beneath its skin, rippling and bulging unnaturally. "It wasn't right." The sheriff nods. "And you magically threw this deformed wolf across the store?" "I didn't say it was magic." "A beam of light shoots out of your hands," the sheriff says dryly, "and tosses a wolf several feet away. You don't consider that magic?" Stiles fiddles with his IV. It's pumping fluids into him, but not morphine, unfortunately. He could use some unconscious euphoria right now. "I don't know what it was," Stiles says finally. "It's just what happened." His dad sighs. "Do you know that all wolves in this state are tracked? They have electronic collars on. Every wolf in California is a dot on a map somewhere." Stiles bites the inside of his mouth. "There are no wolves around Beacon Hills," the sheriff says definitively.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation by grimm

There's something weird about Beacon Hills that Stiles can't quite put his finger on. The way everyone in town knows his name the day he arrives. The way they insist the melancholic howling that echoes through the forest every night is just a dog. The way his dad denies getting a dog, even though Stiles comes home to find one sprawled across his bed, some big black thing whose eyes gleam red in the right light. The way that massive oak tree out in the woods vibrates under his touch, pulsing with sickly life. There's something weird going on in this town, and Stiles is determined to get to the bottom of it.

A Tale of Two Princes by AllTheseSquaresMakeACircle

Given his nature of who he was, Derek Hale, only son to Talia and Marcus Hale, never expected to be married. Hell, he didn't even appear in public. But, after the war with the Argents, their country needed stability. And a political marriage suited that. Shame it had to be the prince of their neighbors to the south. Stiles had no idea where his life would take him. But a marriage of convenience to the crown prince of one of their neighboring countries wasn't exactly on his mind. He had to admit, it would have it perks. Both for the royal family, and for his country. He just didn't know anything about werewolves. Especially ones who were cursed out the ass. Oh well, he'd figure things out as he went.

between the click of the light and the start of the dream by thepsychicclam

A twig snaps, and then Stiles hears breathing and the rustle of leaves. He strains to get a better glimpse into the darkness, but it’s pointless. There’s nothing but a black void. It's Stiles' senior year, and he's trying to concentrate on normal things - like the lacrosse championship, spring break, prom, graduation (and definitely not Derek) - when he starts having nightmares and waking up in the middle of nowhere. Oh yeah, and he's being haunted by a hag. Great.

Protect and Serve by MoonlitMemories

Stiles discovers the Nemeton starting to grow again in the preserve on Hale land. What does that mean for the pack? More importantly: why does the Nemeton seem so attached to Stiles?

Not Alone by ModeratelyScathed

When an unexpected visitor shows up with news that leaves Stiles reeling, he suspects that his entire world is about to change. But maybe that's not such a bad thing.

Daybreak by TheObsidianQuill

"There . . ." Stiles swallowed and looked down at the bottle in his grasp as he slowly swirled the amber liquid inside. "There's really nothing left. For me. Everyone is . . . gone, and it feels like I haven't thought of tomorrow in years." His words rang in the air like a gunshot, he took another heavy drink. "I would trade every last breath I take to just have another shot—not even a guarantee, just a chance to make things right and bring back even one of them." The pack was gone. He had nothing left. He had no one. With nothing to lose, Stiles puts everything on the line to go back in time to try to prevent the future from becoming his past. Broken, guarded, and haunted by his past, only one overgrown-pup of a wolf seems able to get past his defenses. Changing the future? Easy. Finding a place for himself in the Hale Pack? Impossible.

Shatter My Reality by Halevetica

Months after the nogitsune, Stiles starts to see his own face around town. He dismisses it as PTSD. That is, until Lydia starts having a feeling that Stiles is going to die. As the pack scramble to find out what is going on, Stiles is forced to face a ghost from a past he didn't know he had and a future that seems to threaten his place in the pack.

In Case The Daylight Never Comes by plume_bob

There's a relentless dark shape tearing through the pack and that's only the half of it. Stiles just wants to sleep and stop being haunted by the faces of his night-time tormentors. His dad thinks he's suffering from post-traumatic stress, Scott thinks he's suffering the after-effects of the ritual; Stiles thinks they're both reasonable theories, except for the part where Derek Hale is the only thing that can take his nightmares away and it seems that fact is no coincidence.

An Apple's Blossom by Dexterous_Sinistrous

Derek had an aura about him—one that drew you into his orbit despite the warning of an imminent threat. It was like a dream, more than Stiles realized at first. Because it wasn’t real. Nothing about the man Stiles had started to fall in love with—romanticize—was real. ~*~ Stiles is a recently graduated art student who agrees to marry his family's rival, only to realize that maybe love is a little more complicated than he first thought.

Cloaked in Gold by kaistrex (weishen)

Stiles' world tilts, the bed dipping as a weight settles over him, caging him in. Growling. His eyes flutter open in distant confusion as hot air sweeps over his throat and he stares up at twin beams of gold shining inches from his face. Werewolf. Stiles does the only thing he can. “DAD!” The werewolf jumps at the sudden shout, blanketing him tighter, and it’s only seconds until his dad is in his bedroom doorway with Melissa close behind, flicking on the light. Stiles' mouth drops open as he stares up at the thick eyebrows, sharp nose and perfectly groomed stubble of a golden-eyed and fanged Derek Hale. - When son of the Alpha, Derek Hale, ends up in his bed in heat, Stiles decides to use it to his advantage and secure the Bite for his sick stepbrother. As he and his family are welcomed into the Hale pack, Stiles grows closer to Derek than he'd ever dreamed he'd get, but with the fanged Soulbite of a born wolf on Derek's neck, he knows he's just setting himself up for heartbreak. Derek has a Soulmate out there, and it definitely isn't Stiles.

When the Dust Has Settled by halcyon1993

After Gerard’s defeat, no one is sure where they stand. Stiles is angry at Scott and doesn’t know why his head is suddenly filled with thoughts of Derek Hale. Derek doesn’t know why Scott’s betrayal isn’t as painful as the prospect of Stiles being in on it. As they ignore their developing feelings for each other, a freshly resurrected Peter Hale schemes to get them together. No one ever said he’d go easy on them, though. After all, where would be the fun in that?

Shovels and Dirt by bellefire

The nogitsune’s power doesn’t leave Stiles after the spirit is defeated. No, it seems Stiles was changing and knowing what that darkness did to his friends he refuses to put them in danger again. He leaves without a word. Now in a new city with not quite new friends Stiles realizes no one can run forever. Because family doesn’t back down and also, yeah, that fuckin’ tree really is talking to him.

And some of mine, as a cherry on top

Twilight

Derek. Stiles thought about him the most. Something told him that it wasn’t the last time, far from it. He thought about his softness and his open desire to kill. Stiles’ hands remembered the heat of his hands. His neck longed to feel the coating warmth of Derek’s breath. His lips burned from the kiss that never happened. Everything was so fucking complicated. Except one thing. It was the only clear thought in his head. The one that made his stomach clench from fear, his heart stutter from hope, and his lips stretch in a smile. He was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with Derek.

Yes To Heaven

Stiles ruined him. The damage was irreparable. He didn’t want the food that wasn’t made by Stiles or shared with him; the water tasted stale; the clothes were asphyxiating and scratchy; the air was wrong, wrong without Stiles’ scent in it. Fuck, what was wrong with him? How could that pretty little thing change him so much? He had an iron grip on his control before, being in tandem with his instincts, but within weeks, all of it was gone. As soon as he thought of Stiles, though, of his scent, his moans, and the little wrinkle on his forehead as he orgasmed, his mind settled. What was life before Stiles? Everything was somewhere far, far away, forgotten, bleak, and meaningless. Derek thought he knew what light was as he looked at the microscopic dots of the stars above. Then Stiles came into his life and showed him the sun.

Predators

He was born for this. Nature itself whispered into his ear where he should put his hands, how to twirl his tongue just right and when to bite. Stiles knew well enough that his saliva was currently working its magic on this unfortunate man, making him hungry, lustful, and insatiable. Soon, all his thoughts would be consumed by Stiles. And, just this once, Stiles would allow Derek to consume him.

Treasure

"I know you don’t trust me,” Derek grunted. When Stiles inhaled to retort, Derek caught his chin and pressed a finger against his lips, making the boy freeze in place, eyes impossibly wide. “Don’t argue. I expected it. Wolves don’t trust easily, too. I just wanted you to know that… I’m sorry. I was selfish and didn’t see what was in front of me. You don’t need to worry. I’ll take care of everything.” It was a thought that grew in his mind, spread to his heart and took root there, reincorporating into a deep desire and a vital need. Derek will take care of him and his little pup, he’ll bring the hearts of his enemies and put them at the boy’s feet. He’ll court and he’ll conquer.

Wait For Me

"Stiles, we know about your Spark,” Scott looked at Stiles with desperate eyes, trying to convey something. “He is the Werewolf who's been chasing you. You must run. We’ll help you…” Stiles stared at his friend, genuinely concerned for his sanity, because the nonsense he was sputtering was really fucking confusing.

[masterlist link]

[pellucid-constellations]

If It All Fell (2)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst!! (poor Az :/)

a/n: I hope you enjoyy!! :) More to come obvi <3 This is gonna be a long one.

Part 1 ♡, Part 3 ☾

Series Masterlist

~~

Did the small wooden box on the top shelf of the closet have meaning? 

Was it significant? 

From the bed centered in the middle of the room, you let your eyes take you along the delicate carvings in the wood. They looped and curved, dropping off in the pattern of a star, and then a moon, and then a misshapen cloud. 

You knocked your head to the side, ignoring the deep pain lingering there, and glanced at the empty spot on the dresser by the door. It was the exact size of the box. And the box—in its new, seemingly hidden location—looked haphazardly placed. 

Did they move it for a reason? 

Did they think you wouldn’t notice? 

Was this even your bedroom? 

You figured it must be. Clothes that looked to be your size were hanging in the closet. A vanity sat by the window with products on it that might compliment your complexion. There were paintings you found yourself enjoying hanging on the walls. 

So this must be your bedroom… but there was something missing. 

And it looked as if nothing was in the right place, but you had no frame of reference for where it was all supposed to be. 

You just knew that that wooden box didn’t belong under a knit sweater in the closet. 

The creak of the door drew your attention away from the apparent inaccuracy of the room. Two people entered, and it was a small mercy that you found some recognition in their faces. Majda and Mor slinked into the room, the latter with a sheepish, shy smile on her face, and clicked the door shut with a muted click. 

“Hi,” Mor greeted, as Majda set an absurdly large bag on the bedside table. The blonde shifted her weight between her feet. “My name is Mor. We met in the forest, do you remember?” 

Do you remember? 

It was unintentionally cruel. 

You nodded your head, not trusting your voice when it was so unfamiliar. 

Mor’s smile brightened a touch. “I was hoping you would. Although, with everything that happened I wasn’t going to put too much pressure on you.” She winked, and you were left feeling like an outsider in your own conversation. 

Majda bustled around your bed, asking permission before touching your head and your neck. You granted it to her, if only because she was the only person in the room not attempting to drive an uncomfortable conversation. Mor seemed very sweet, but she was hovering over you and glancing your way as if you were going to explode. 

Maybe you were going to explode. 

It’s not like you would know if that was a common occurrence for you. 

“I know you’ve woken up a few times since returning ho—here,” Mor quickly corrected, playing with her fingers and shifting onto her toes. “You were confused for a while before you fell back to sleep. Do you remember that?” 

Do you remember that? 

You shook your head. Majda’s hands glowed and warmed against your skull. 

Mor pursed her lips. “Hm, I suppose that’s to be expected. It was all a bit disorienting.” 

There were a few moments of silence. Mor dropped herself into the chair that had been pulled up beside the bed, fidgeting every so often. The old healer continued her assessment of you as you stared blankly out the window and tried to pretend there weren’t a pair of brown eyes burning a hole into the side of your face. You could hear footsteps beyond your door. 

They would pace one way, and then the other. 

“No change.” Majda’s voice startled you out of your stupor. She gave you kind eyes and a pat on your cheek. “This is above my abilities. I’m sorry. You are in good health, otherwise.” 

“My head,” you croaked out. Gods, how long had you been asleep? “It hurts. Hasn’t stopped.” 

The healer hummed. “I can give you some tonics, but until the source of this amnesia is sorted out, there will be no definitive fix.” 

A few glass vials clinked against the side table as Majda placed them there and slung her bag over her shoulder. She shared a few hushed words with Mor and then went to the door, swinging it wide as she stepped through it. You caught the tip of a wing in the doorframe, saw those same shadows from before curve around the hinges and pull towards you. 

They were ushered back just as quickly, and then the door shut as well, hiding the hints of your visitor. 

You hadn’t noticed you’d craned your neck to catch a glimpse until you righted it. When you heard more voices in the hall, you looked down at your fingers, blinking back tears you didn’t understand the origins of. 

“Sometimes, you like to read,” Mor said, breaking the silence. “You were in the middle of this book.” 

She placed the thick novel on the blanket beside your legs. Glancing up at Mor’s encouraging smile, you picked it up, feeling its weight in your hand instead of giving in to the one in your chest. You thumbed along the spine and then at the edges of the pages, stopping when your fingers caught on a sharp edge at the top. 

A bookmark—a place where you’d left off. You flipped it open but couldn’t follow a bit of it. 

More tears left your throat feeling thick. 

“What happens now?” you quietly asked, trying desperately not to cry in front of this woman that you didn’t know. 

“Now—” Mor began, clearing her own throat, her voice just as raw as yours. When she sat by your legs, you let some of the glossiness in your eyes show. “—we take things slow. Majda said we shouldn’t rush things until we find a source. Rhys—Rhysand… the one with the pointed ears and a pompous attitude—is in contact with other courts to try and get some help. There are other people in our Inner Circle that might be able to help as well.” 

You bit into your bottom lip until it hurt. “I’m part of this circle?” 

Mor’s smile was sad. “You are.” 

~~ 

You shifted in front of the mirror, uncomfortable despite being alone. It had been three days since you woke up, and each of those three days had been spent in your bedroom. Your bedroom, you had confirmed with Mor. 

The only two people you had been in contact with were Mor and Majda. You could hear other voices in the hall, sometimes see a shadow pass by your balcony at night, but you only ever spoke to Mor. Majda didn’t say much when she came in to check your head and drop off more vials.

“We don’t want to overwhelm you,” Mor had said, but there was something else, too. You weren’t comfortable enough to pry. She looked disappointed that you accepted her reasoning so easily. 

The three days were spent mostly alone, which you hadn’t minded, but the time spent with Mor was filled with stories about you. Where you grew up, how long you studied, all of your favorite things; she was in the business of introducing you to yourself, and she was definitely qualified for the job. 

You had asked her who she was to you, and you received a simple answer at that. 

“I’m your family,” she had said, and then she began talking about you again. 

She always got quiet when you spoke of your connection to others. 

Which was why you had suggested a lunch. 

You spent the better part of the last three days panicking, and then moping, and then aimlessly searching your bedroom for any hints of the life you led before this. All avenues either left you with a headache or emotional exhaustion. 

You remembered the three other men from that day—Rhysand, Azriel, and the one with the longer hair—Cassian, Mor had called him. You wanted to meet them properly… introduce yourself? A ridiculous notion; according to Mor, you’d known everyone for the past 300 years. 

But you didn’t know them, not really. 

And Azriel’s shadows—you wanted to see them the most. You’d been searching for the calm they offered you since the day you woke up, but couldn’t find it in their absence. 

“Are you ready?” Mor asked, a soft knock on the other side of the door. 

“I think so,” you called back. You’d grown more accustomed to the sound of your voice. It was still strange to hear the sound echo back in your head, but as long as you didn’t scream or yell, it was tolerable. 

Mor opened the door, took in your choice of clothes—a purple dress with sleeves that flowed past the wrists—and tried to hide the flutter of her lashes. 

Embarrassment immediately found you. “Was I not supposed to wear this? It was in the back of the closet so I thought—” 

“You look lovely,” Mor assured, linking your arm with hers. Touch was another thing you were growing accustomed to. It was easy with Mor. “You just haven’t worn that in a while. I was surprised to see it.” 

As she walked you down halls you had never seen before, you huffed out a dry laugh. “Well, this is the first time I’m seeing it.” 

Your joke fell flat. Mor smiled back at you, but it was the same smile you always saw. Sad, pained, bittersweet. 

“Who did you say was attending?” you asked, attempting to steer the conversation away from her sad smiles. 

“Just me, Azriel, and Cassian. There are a few more people we typically see on a daily basis, but we wanted to start out small.” 

“To not overwhelm me.” 

“Precisely.” 

Your steps were silent on the marble floor, the silk slippers you chose allowing some of the chill to seep into your toes. “So, why did they choose you?” 

Mor blinked and turned a confused expression your way. “What do you mean?” 

“Why did they choose you as the one person that speaks to me? Are you the least overwhelming of the bunch?” 

“Well that title certainly wouldn’t go to Cassian,” Mor grumbled out. She guided you to a large wooden door and offered you a shrug of her shoulders that looked far too nonchalant. “I was just the best fit for the job. I love you, but… I could handle this.” 

“Handle this? Am I really so terrible?” you asked, trying your hand at another joke. 

Mor’s smile looked more genuine this time as she shook her head. “No. No, you are absolutely wonderful. And that’s the problem.” 

You took a moment to try and decipher her words. Did you mean that much to these people? Did they care so deeply about your memories that only one person could stand to be around you now that they were gone? 

It was difficult not to fall into the immense vat of guilt you now found yourself teetering on the edge of. It was difficult to pretend Mor wasn't looking at you as if you had stolen something from her. 

That was the truth that was missing before—you would be too overwhelming to everyone else. Not the other way around.

Mor gave your hand a fond squeeze as if she could hear your thoughts, and then opened the door. The hinges squeaked and the sheer size of it caused a rather loud echo in the room, but neither of those sounds drowned out the sharp intake of breath from the dining room table. Your eyes immediately shot to the blue glow and the shadows twisting around wide wings. 

Azriel. 

He looked back at you, unblinking, mouth parted. His hair was clean cut and cared for, but something about it looked frazzled and untamed. It didn’t suit the stiffness with which he sat, nor the white-knuckled grip on his fork that he maintained. 

Black wisps slinked across the floor, stopping at your slippers and twisting around your ankles. You broke your stare from Azriel in favor of watching them swirl up your legs. True to your memory—which wasn’t a testament to much these days—their cool presence eased some of the pain in your head. 

A throat cleared. 

You snapped your head up. 

“Uh, I’m Cassian. I don’t know if you remember me from the other day—”

“I do,” you softly interrupted. 

Azriel choked out a shuddering breath. Your eyes lingered on the side of his face before returning to Cassian as he continued with, “Good. That’s good. New memories and all that. Very nice.”

“Cauldron, Cassian,” Mor admonished. “She’s not an invalid.” 

He threw his hands up in a placating gesture. “I didn’t say she was! I was being encouraging.” 

“Great, I’m sure we all feel very encouraged. Come, y/n.” 

You followed Mor blindly until a chair was pressed to your back and a plate was ushered in front of you. There were a few moments of silence, just the clinking of plates and forks, before the panic began to build in your chest. It was a familiar feeling for you, one of the only you could draw memories from. 

You should say something.

Azriel and Cassian, they were doing this for you—taking time away from whatever it was they were supposed to be doing to have a silly lunch. In a normal world, you wouldn’t need to have lunch as a way to reintroduce yourself to your family. 

Were they still your family? 

You knew nothing about them, could reciprocate nothing.

There had been no news about the witch that did this to you and no one told you if Rhysand found anyone to help. 

What if you were stuck like this? 

What if they grew tired of you wasting away in your room and forcing them into lunches and—

“That dish is your favorite.” 

Azriel’s deep voice rasped at the end of his sentence and sent every thought shooting away from your brain. You came back to present, catching yourself taking quick, shallow breaths and staring down at the table with no clear target. 

“You eat it every other week. I—We picked it up from a restaurant along the Sidra, a river in town,” Azriel explained. 

You brought your gaze up from staring a hole into the wood to find Azriel directly across from you, his posture more relaxed than before. His expression was patient, kind, and you nodded back at him. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. But that was odd—whispering during a meal. “Thank you,” you tried again, clearer this time. “I appreciate that—”

“Azriel,” he filled in, not allowing you the possibility of a mistake. “My name is Azriel.” 

You knew that. You knew all of their names as well as their faces. There were a few paintings shoved into the back of your closet that you had taken the time to study. 

Did they shove them back there on purpose? 

“It’s nice to meet you, Azriel.” 

Azriel’s jaw quivered, his lashes fluttered. 

He took a bite of salad. 

“I don’t know if you’d be interested,” Cassian began, clearing his throat again. “But we used to—well, no, we currently have a weekly arrangement where you drag me to the theater and make me watch a show and I pretend I hate it but I actually have a great time.” 

The lingering joy on his face made a small smile creep up onto your own. 

“Sound fun to you? Might be nice to get out of that room.” 

You took a deep breath, biting the inside of your cheek. This was a good sign, him wanting to spend time with you… him wanting to be in your presence and not break down into tears or anger or distaste.

“I would love to,” you said. “Although, I don’t know much about theater.” 

Cassian dropped a heavy hand on your shoulder. “Wouldn’t expect you to know much about anything, sweetheart.”

Mor snorted the water she was drinking back into her glass, you let out a surprised, scoff-like laugh, and Cassian grinned from beside you, all teeth and snark and playfulness. 

But Azriel. 

Azriel stood up, his chair screeching as it pushed out abruptly. His napkin was clenched tightly in his hand and the rigidness from before was back and in full-swing. The shadows that had stayed with you for the duration of lunch zoomed back to their master, displacing the material of your dress as they went. 

He had a bleak, hard look in his eye as he stared at no one. 

“Azriel?” you asked, and it was the first time you’d started any semblance of a conversation on your own. Even when you spoke to Mor, she was the one prompting you to speak. 

At the sound of your voice, Azriel quickly turned his gaze toward you, his eyes softening immediately. But just as quickly, his shoulders slumped, his napkin fell to the floor, and his hand came up to cover his mouth. “I—I’m incredibly sorry. I can’t do this.” 

And then he was gone.

Part 3 ☾

[hcneymooners]

✸ TRITWWISIYTSTICS ⤷ chapter ii. i was in the shower, shaking, and she was outside.

( read on ao3. )

synopsis & masterlist: here.

cw: animal death (non-graphic), mentions of grief and loss, the eroticism of feeding the woman you don't know but you're dreaming about already.

notes: thank you so much for all of the support on the first chapter. please let me know what you think. i would love to know anything you would like to tell me. my inbox is always open, and i always love you.

all of paige’s ghosts flooded her in sleep, so she dispelled them by gasping awake and rolling over the hills of azzi’s bare thighs. 

they’d flipped, two coins rusting in the dark, left to tarnish together until even god forgot which one was heads, and ended up curved together—two moons of women, half slivers barely a forehead apart. azzi’s mouth had parted slightly as she dreamed, and maybe paige was too disoriented to process anything else, but she swore it smelled sweet. she could’ve sworn that the sun had come through earlier, but maybe that was a figment of her imagination.

she lay in the dark for a while, rolling her neck and trying to loosen her body from its military indoctrination. this woman is not a threat, she thought repeatedly like a prayer. she hadn’t seen the inner body of a church in so long. 

and even if she was, paige continued, you are stronger. 

the thought made her feel more ill than anything. she clenched her jaw, flexed her fingers until the bone threatened to bubble and split the skin. she tried to recall her family members, tried to say their names or attach them to fading faces. when she got to her younger brother, her throat closed, and her hips twitched just enough to tell her that this venture was over. she tried to say his name, just one more time. her throat closed around it like a fist.

she would not fall back into sleep, she knew this. so, she lay there with her hands palm up across her chest. she resisted the urge to place a palm against the warmth of azzi’s side. 

the lack of touching was useless. she could feel something deep inside of azzi radiating into her, seeking out the similar fog that smothered whatever it was that had remained. 

it was like spores.

✸

azzi was dreaming; this much she knew. it was a nice dream, a calmer one. it was one without inês’s empty eye sockets, now filled with bejeweled bells. it was one without inês’s gaping, fat, pink mouth trying to close over her name. it wouldn’t hurt too much to wake from. 

still, it had its own pain. perhaps it was the joy.

in this dream, azzi was stock still on a basketball court. she stood alone, hair braided down into two thick plaits that brushed at the tops of her shoulders. every time she moved, the ends of the braids kissed her. again, and again, they kissed her because she was curious and couldn’t stop neither her hunger for this new world nor the hunger for the faux-intimacy of that faux-touch.

she was unsure of whether or not she was in uniform. when she looked down, she could only see how her hands were pulsing around a ball. maybe it was the world. she dropped it and reached back, clawed her fingertips through the braids until her curls fell thick and sweet around the fullness of her face. she turned to look over her shoulder. 

she saw a river of blonde hair. 

she knew the nape of that pale neck.

azzi slipped into the sweetness of late morning. at first, she didn’t understand, and then she felt that her existence was different.

she sat up, no stranger to the velveteen darkness, and listened to the sounds of that strange woman tiptoeing around her house. with a tender breath, she finally slipped from the bed, skin dappled in the little light let in through the balcony window’s curtain, and turned the warm water valve outside of the room’s bathroom. she tucked herself into the porcelain body of the bath and let the heat send light through her body. 

she straightened her hair.

when she came into the kitchen, she found paige sitting still with a hand around the thin limb of her gun’s trigger. she remained respectful of azzi’s instruction to leave it by the door, sitting cross-legged by the entrance to the cabin. she twisted to follow azzi’s dance throughout her home. 

paige didn’t mean to watch her, but she did. she watched the way azzi’s hands moved with care, not hesitation. she watched azzi shoulder open a cabinet and pull out a thin pack of dried meat. then: a few wrinkled peaches, coaxed from the solar-powered belly of the fridge. she gazed on as azzi sliced the peach gently, carefully, clinically as if she were handling a heart.

medical background, then. as if to agree with her, azzi’s full lips parted and let words slip out like a wrong birth; too early and exposed. 

“you’re underweight,” azzi said, flinching slightly when the duck hit the pan. paige watched a spray of oil droplets go high.

she didn’t answer. her jaw set. her gaze went down to her hands and outlined the bones of her rifle, before she transferred it back to its leaning post and stood. she shuffled into the kitchen and sat awkwardly at the round, oak table. 

azzi skewered a slice of peach and fed it to the fire. she turned it over after a few minutes, the caramelized side now dark and gleaming.

“you need protein. fat. salt.” a pause. “the others fed you?”

“there were no others,” paige said, “but i had rations.”

azzi turned toward her, the sun frail against her cheekbone. she pressed her lips together and then,

“your voice.” a pause, as if she hadn’t meant to say that. “are you—did you come from the midwest?”

paige gazed at her, blue eyes gleaming, before she answered. “minnesota.” then, “where were you?”

something seared through azzi’s stomach, and her hands tightened around the ridge of the knife. “virginia.”

she plated the food without speaking again. 

the smell rose warm and smoky between them. somehow, there were greens tucked in. paige couldn’t help the wrinkle of her face at the sight of the leaves. azzi set the plate down and finally looked at her. 

“this is the last of the duck.”

paige’s eyes met hers. “you didn’t have to.”

azzi gave her an almost tired look. barely fond. “yes. i did.”

they ate until the silence grew stiff. azzi could feel all of her disquiet boil within her. the fragments of her dream pressed into her nerves like blades.

paige chewed slowly, methodically, her jaw working through both the meat and the unfamiliar act of being cared for. she didn’t make a sound, but azzi could feel the hesitation in her. she noted the way paige avoided the peach, the way her eyes swept the room like she was already counting exits.

azzi’s curls began to press forward at her temples, kissed free from the water’s steam and the slow march of time. her straightened hair, warm and glossy only minutes ago, had started to ripple at the roots, like even it no longer wished to be held so tightly.

carefully, she leaned forward and picked up a limp sliver of grilled peach off the other woman’s plate. she carefully dusted a duck-wet sprig of kale from the top of it and then dropped it onto paige’s unused fork. paige watched her arrange it—god, did she watch. then the peach fled into her mouth.

“you can’t only eat what’s not good for you,” azzi told her.

paige wiped her mouth on the back of her wrist, then pushed her plate forward. her eyes didn’t leave azzi, not exactly, but she didn’t stare. she traced the space between them. she observed like a soldier, tracking something she hadn’t decided whether or not to kill.

“you don’t like greens?” azzi asked, tilting her head but adjusting nothing in her tone.

paige shrugged one shoulder, finally letting her tongue brush peach from the roof of her mouth. the tip of her tongue was dark pink as it swirled across the vermilion of her bottom lip. “never did.” she didn’t apologize.

azzi smiled faintly. “good to know.”

she rose and leaned back against the counter, a faint crescent of sweat beneath her collarbone. she didn’t bother hiding her fatigue. or her distance.

“so,” paige said, voice dry as flint, “how’s this work? you feed the strays, or am i a special case?”

azzi arched a brow. it wasn’t an offense. it wasn’t warm either. 

“you’re not a stray,” she said. “but you are a disruption.”

paige’s mouth twitched. maybe that was the closest she came to a laugh. azzi went on. 

“the commune lets me live my life as i want it. i patch up the children when they fall, and i touch the wrinkled and weathered skin of the elders when the wind breaks their hips. people are still terrified of growing old even when there’s not much life left.” paige’s mouth twitched again. azzi, again, thought of her tongue. “i give them antibiotics, help them with supplemental ivs, and provide makeshift hospice services. otherwise, i take nothing.”

“and in return?” paige asked.

“they let me have my perimeter. they don’t come knocking. they don’t ask about the water system. or how many solar panels i have. they don’t ask about the cabin, or why i’m—why she—” left me. “they don’t ask about why it’s just me.”

paige ran her tongue along her teeth, considering that.

“and me?”

azzi crossed her arms, her sweater sleeve slipping down her forearm. her skin was smooth and reminded paige of the dunes she’d spent nights scoping. her eyes were not.

“will they ask about you?”

“no,” paige said. “what do you expect from me?”

“you haven’t taken anything yet,” azzi said. “but you will. that’s just human nature. so, i guess i’ll know then.”

a long pause. paige nodded once, then looked away. her jaw worked slightly, like she was chewing on something bitter. azzi softened. slightly.

“there’s work, if you want to stay.” her voice was even. “i don’t feed idle mouths. you can track. you’re quiet. that matters.”

paige’s gaze flicked back to her. still cautious, but clearer now.

“i don’t make messes,” she said.

azzi turned back to the sink. “everyone makes messes.”

outside, the wind picked up, brushing past the curtains like a second thought. the light shifted—blued and white, like the bones of morning trying to stay alive. azzi reached up and tucked her curls behind her ears. they popped right back out. she didn’t bother again. she began to wash the dishes.

at the third plate, azzi said it. not dramatically, because it wasn’t a warning, but it still had some gravity.

“we’ll need to hunt. you need protein, and meat will get you there somewhat while i figure out the greens situation.” a beat. “i prefer a scalpel to a rifle.”

paige didn’t ask why. she only rose to azzi’s side, reached down, and dried a plate. she set it down. then:

“it’s not easy to be a good shot.”

“i never said i wasn’t a good shot.”

paige thought of speaking, but didn’t. she couldn’t understand it. 

“were you always a doctor?” the question came unbidden, surprising both women.

azzi shook her head. “pre-med.”

something about the way she said it made paige envision the anatomy of her throat, dark inked lines spiraling across smooth skin. lines without any label. a learning curve.

paige dried another plate. “i’m going to take a walk along the north loop,” she said. “won’t go far. just get the lay.”

azzi didn’t turn, but she nodded. and that was that. when she finished cleaning the sink, she turned away and sent a spoon spinning from the counter to the floor.

they both went to reach for it. their spines bent in the same way. their hands nearly touched. 

neither looked up.

azzi stayed down.

✸

it was only a few days later that paige better understood what azzi meant when she clarified preference over capability. 

it had rained the night before. the ground was as soft as a body returning to earth, and the grass still held the chill of early morning. dew sparkled like beads on the long, green tongues. azzi stepped forward, quiet in her boots, the wind tugging at the ends of her scarf.

she stayed in place for only a moment, watching as paige brought her hair up into a loose loop at the base of her neck. she watched the blonde’s body flex, her muscles extending and tensing to become a part of her weapon. she was well-trained. azzi’s gaze lifted to what sat at the other end of the gun’s muzzle.

“wait.”

paige locked up, twisting to look at azzi standing small in the backyard. azzi maneuvered past her, body shivering avidly through the loose cotton of her tee. across from her: a feral cow. most likely abandoned or escaped. it watched her approach, blinked at her. 

brown eyes, long lashes, a gaze that made it hard to lie. for a moment: inês. her brothers. 

azzi knelt. grief slid low through her, ringing out, unclean and unstoppable. she crawled the rest of the way, uncaring of whether or not paige thought she was debasing herself.

(paige didn’t. she’d crawled, once.)

“i promise,” azzi whispered, voice hoarse, coming close enough to haul up on her hands and press her forehead to its temple. her hand slid over the thick ridge of its neck, the skin soft as churned butter, pale and rippling with warmth. “you’ll feed us. warm us. i will use your bones, your hide, your fat. nothing will go to waste. not a piece of you.”

the cow didn’t move or spook. it shifted minutely, head pressing into azzi’s cheek. its eyes were so large. azzi wondered when the last time someone had loved it like this was.

“i promise,” she said, louder but still hoarse. “i promise to use all of you.”

she crawled to her feet. stepped back. 

paige coiled again, finger twitching. again, she didn’t take the shot. now, she stood and approached the cow with an open hand. 

i prefer a scalpel to a rifle.

before, paige could not understand it. she did now.

two lithe fingers came to the middle of its head and slid down to the gnarled twist of its overgrown horns. she tilted it downward, coaxed it into turning with the familiarity of a farmhand, and led it away into a patch of wood so thick azzi could not see inside of it without a deep strain. 

azzi did not strain. instead, she retreated into the cabin. the shot rang out, quick and merciful.

when azzi finally came into the world again, only the pressed grass remained, still warm where the cow’s knees had folded as it accepted her covenant. paige was taking longer to come back than she’d expected. 

when paige returned, dusk painted her in rust and hush. there was blood across her cheekbone, a drying thread at the hinge of her jaw. azzi looked at the body in her arms, wrapped in fabric. she looked up at paige’s chest, bare now except for a well-worn sports bra.

their gazes collided for one suspended moment, earth against sky. 

“less mess,” paige said.

it wasn’t really. azzi would have to wash the wood off it. the dirt would sit, hard and vengeful, and azzi would have to strip and cleanse it. 

that was alright.

azzi wiped her cheeks. 

her mouth trembled, and paige thought of touching it.  her cunt clenched.

again, the bed. their bed.

that night, they lay as before: backs pressed close beneath the canopy, breath steadying in tandem. azzi listened to the wind soften against the linen drape, to the slow shift of paige’s shoulder as she reached back blindly, fumbling. two fingers brushed azzi’s stomach, missing their mark.

azzi lurched forward, then back. caught her breath.

paige, without apology, trailed lower, hand skimming across azzi’s hip until she found the curve of her wrist, the pulse tucked there like a secret. her fingers settled over it.

azzi pressed back, not pulling away but into. it is very strange.

they shifted, slowly. backs to backs become shoulders side by side. both of them on their backs now, the space between them thinned to nothing but shared breath.

still, no words.

paige’s fingers pushed upward, into the opening of azzi’s palm as if she meant to hold the whole hand. azzi stared into the dark and widened the spread of her fingers. tomorrow, she would clean the remnants of blood from underneath paige’s nails. 

she was sure to have missed some.

© hcneymooners.

[cocoreallylovesraiden]

How about the mk1 characters getting annoyed ( cause you know women like to sleep with pillows or blankets or something between their legs and just lay there cuddled up with a pillow) cause they're cuddling a pillow one I'm their arms and one between their legs

MK1 characters genuinely beefing with a pillow

(bi han, johnny cage, syzoth, tomas vrbada)

this is actually so real of you anon i cannot sleep unless i have 4 pillows with me (requests open as always :D)

Bi Han

-Is offended by the gratuitous amount of pillows you’ve managed to populate the already cramped bed with.

-In the beginning of sharing a bed with him he’d just sleep faced away from you so he never realized this was always something you did; and probably took it personally 

-He suggests that you are being childish and in a moment of mild embarrassment, says you can just hold onto him instead.

-Good on him for voicing his needs and opening up to his partner! But you don’t have the heart to tell him his arms are too muscly and less comfortable than your pillows. 

-In the mornings he stores the extra pillows under the bed or on the seats to make everything look neat because you DON'T no matter how much HE TELLS YOU.  

-In the warm summer months when shit is hot as hell you will forgo it because who needs them when you have the equivalent of “cold pillow side” all night! 

-It makes him feel like he’s the little spoon, which he doesn’t appreciate, and you get really sweaty at around 4am, which he appreciates even less, but it’s very grounding and the pressure makes it easy to sleep 

-He always wakes up really disoriented and mistakes you for the blanket (read: almost tosses you off the bed as he gets up)

 Johnny Cage

-This is equivalent to letting your dog sleep at the foot of the bed (except let's be real you’ve probably done something similar to him) 

-Thinks its super cute when he comes into the room after his shower and sees you all comfy and snuggled up, expecting you to reach for him all sleepy once he gets under the covers

-And when I tell you it hurts his pride like nothing else, when you turn around to get into a better position

-Babe i'm RIGHT here (gets a bolster thrown at his head)

-Out of spite he’ll copy you and sleep with the bolster instead of holding you, and immediately gets the appeal

-Because yes he loves you dearly, but he can’t exactly fold you three times to fit under his bad knee (as much as he wants to)

-As time goes on you both now have more extra pillows, bolsters and djungelskogs than you know what to do with.

-(you two both have one except he weighs like a brick shit ton so his is extremely disfigured and looks like a sack)

-He thinks you look really hot when you lay on your side cuddling all the pillows

-You’ll just be watching TV and he’s got the googly eyes ok calm down buddy not while you’re wearing the muumuu…

Syzoth

-Thinks you are building a nest because there is no other reason someone needs five pillows and two throw blankets

-Though this is coming from a man who spent most of his life sleeping on the cobblestone floor 

-Over the next few weeks he comes back to you with an assortment of sort fluffy…things

-You don’t have the heart to ask why he’s suddenly showering you with gifts, initially thinking it’s good nature but hey ok there’s a limit to your patience AND space on this bed. 

-The teddy bears are adorable, but spa…towels? Does he know what a spa is? You have more questions than answers.

-Every time you thank him he gets quietly excited since he thinks this is confirmation that you are nesting and possibly want to start a family with him

-Doesn’t actually mind the part with you not cuddling with him as often, he usually just lightly holds your hand or big spoons you 

-The day you actually ask him about it, and eventually have to break the news that no you are not nesting and that it’s just for your comfort, he deflates like a balloon

-Bless his heart you spend the rest of the day begging for forgiveness and clinging onto him like a koala explaining your side

-“Does that mean… you are uncomfortable with me?” NO IT’S JUST SECOND NATURE SYZOTH!! LIKE WHEN YOU WANT TO BASK ON A ROCK!! SECOND NATURE!

-He looks at you pointedly. Just because he’s zaterran doesn’t mean he’s going to behave like an iguana…. Not the zaterran discrimination…

-You compromise using him in replacement, and grow to enjoy the feeling of your new pillows occasionally squirming under your iron death grip.

Tomas Vrbada

-Will cheerfully use his herculean strength to just wriggle through your grip so you hold him and not the pillows. 

-Wiggles up like a snake coming out a pot until he can wrangle his arms above yours and hug you

-Just starts telling you about his day like its a normal conversation while you lay there completely stunlocked 

-It’s also just a reminder that as sweet and kind your partner is, he is also insanely strong and is just careful to be soft with you 

-If you’re both laying in bed and you prefer to cuddle up with pillows he’ll just stare at you with the saddest, wettest boba eyes using his curled up forearm as a pillow 

-And since you are merely a mortal man you relent and cling onto him instead

-At the same time he likes when you rest your head on his chest and hold onto a bolster, a perfect combination of not overheating and physical touch

-Biggest flaw is that he tends to spook you with how quietly he enters the room, so more often than not he is getting PELTED by that soft Egyptian cotton pillow at light speeds

-He’ll catch it 80% of the time and laugh, the other 20% he’s equally scared and the thing takes him down like it’s Sisyphus’ boulder and he’s the hill

[soberpluto]

Examining Neptune's Spell

Apologies for not being here after so much time, but now I'm back and very thrilled to share this with you all! I'm hopeful many can find this helpful.

Unnecesary context aside, just recently I was having a long and deep conversation with a friend of mine about my semi-recurring mini existential crises. After hearing me patiently, with the dear intention of making me realize I was drowning in my tiny glass of water, he simply (and brilliantly) replied:

"I think you're problem is that you have unrealistic expectations about yourself."

Any attempt to blurt out in self-defense ceased instantly because of how deep these words sunk in my mind. I stared into the wall before for me and felt how the missing puzzle piece finally dropped into the perfect spot. Obviously, the thought of having my sun in Cancer and Neptune in almost exact opposition popped inside, and it took a WHOLE new dimmension. How could this statement not be true?! OF COURSE he was right! It's not that I wasn't told that before or haven't read about it multiple times in my astrology studies, but the truth is, (a very Neptunian thing now that I think about it) I didn't believe it quite applied to me. Because I don't like to feel mediocre and because I think of myself as a spiritual and highly self-aware woman, I was convinced that holding myself to "unrealistic standards" was definitely NOT the reason that triggered me to want fleed to a desert islands at times when reality felt like too much. It was bitterly humorous when I realized I evidently missed the fact that Neptune was making a hell of a job doing what he does best: casting its spells of illusion and glittery distorted beliefs about how things were "supposed to be" in a surprisingly unadverted way into my life. I was truly relieved to actually understand (or accept, better said) why trying to have a simple and happy life seemed too tricky at times. It all made sense.

Now, let me introduce Neptune, if you happen to be unacquainted.

Neptune in astrology is like the ultimate dream weaver, spinning a web of intuition, imagination, and mystery. It’s the planet of all things ethereal, where reality gets a little blurry, and you’re invited to dive into the deep end of fantasy, spirituality, and idealism. Neptune whispers, "What if?" and suddenly, we're seeing the world through a kaleidoscope of possibilities, but a "little" foggy on the details. We're all influenced by Neptune one way or another, but when it touches personal planets or points in our charts, it’s like life hands us a pair of customized rose-colored glasses, but the prescription is way off. Suddenly, everything feels a bit magical, like we're starring in your own fairytale, except the castle is made of mist, the prince might just be a mirage, and that enchanted forest? It’s actually a parking lot.

But why bother making us feel loony? On a more serious note, our master illusionist possesses the higher purpose of awakening our connection to something greater than the everyday grind. It gently pulls us out of the rigid boundaries of reality and whispers, "There’s more to life than meets the eye." It invites us to explore the depths of our imagination, spirituality, and compassion, blurring the lines between self and universe. The illusions it creates are really a nudge to dissolve our ego’s grip, helping us see beyond the material and embrace a higher sense of love, creativity, and unity with the cosmos.

As inspiring and touching as it sounds, the catch is that fulfilling Neptune’s mission can feel like chasing fog—just when we think we’ve got a handle on it, it slips through our fingers. Neptune wants us to transcend reality and connect with the divine, but let’s be real: that’s not exactly a day-to-day, grocery-list-friendly goal. For someone with heavy Neptune influence, this pursuit of higher meaning can be disorienting, leaving them feeling lost in a sea of "what ifs" and "maybes." And thanks to its grandeur idealism, it can push people to be hypersensitive, highly fearful of failure and completely inaccurate with what they may achieve in a day, let alone a lifetime!

For a Neptunian, the intuitive desire to be flawless and sufficient does not come from wordly expectations, but from a place of soulful calling that more often unconsciously than consciously tells them they're limitless beings living in a limited reality. And this is exactly the greatest challenge of all: to accept that the truth must be known while respecting the illusion, just as a spiritual teacher Michael Mirdad states.

That said, you can imagine what happens when mystical and whimsical Neptune gets cozy with your personal planets. Let's see in detail how it sprinkles its glitter them:

Sun

Soft Aspects: With soft aspects, your Sun is shining brighter than ever! Neptune sprinkles fairy dust on your creativity and confidence, making you feel like a superstar in your own musical. It’s all about embracing your spiritual side and believing that you can conquer the world—cape optional!

Hard Aspects: You’re the artist of your own identity, but the canvas keeps shifting. One day you’re an astronaut, the next day you’re a poet, and by the end of the week, you’re contemplating becoming a full-time mystic. Neptune tells you, "Be everything," but sometimes that just leaves you wondering, "Who am I, really?"

Moon

Soft Aspects: Your emotions flow like a gentle river, and you’re tuned in to everyone’s feelings like a super empath (you could be a cool wizard/witch or clairvoyant!). Neptune wraps you in a cozy blanket of intuition, making heartfelt connections feel like a warm hug from the universe. Cue the happy tears!

Hard Aspects: Enter the emotional whirlpool! Neptune can stir up your feelings like a cosmic blender, leading to mood swings and a general sense of overwhelm. You might find yourself daydreaming your way through real-life emotions, and good luck figuring out what you actually feel!

Mercury

Soft Aspects: With Neptune’s gentle nudge, your thoughts become a beautiful symphony! Communication flows like honey, and you’re bursting with creative ideas. It’s a fantastic time for writing, brainstorming, or chatting about all things magical and dreamy! You could be a music lover, a great singer or a romantic poet.

Hard Aspects: But when Neptune goes rogue, it’s like trying to read a recipe in a funhouse—everything’s upside down! Your thoughts get scattered, and communication feels like a game of telephone gone wrong. Get ready for misunderstandings and the occasional “Wait, what did you just say?” This aspect looks very similar to a Piscean or Sagittarian Mercury, a common link to ADHD.

Venus

Soft Aspects: Love is in the air! Neptune turns your romantic life into a whimsical fairy tale, where everything feels enchanting. Your heart opens wide, and connections deepen, making even the smallest moments feel like a scene from a rom-com.

Hard Aspects: But hold on! Neptune might have you wearing those rose-colored glasses a bit too tightly. You might find yourself idealizing partners or being swept away by fantasies, only to crash back to reality when things don’t match your dreamy expectations. Ouch!

Mars

Soft Aspects: With Neptune in your corner, your drive becomes a creative spark! You’re ready to take action with a burst of inspiration, making you feel like a superhero on a mission. Time to tackle those goals with flair and imagination!

Hard Aspects: When Neptune throws in a twist, it’s like trying to run through quicksand. Your motivation might wane, leaving you confused about where to focus your energy. It’s a cosmic case of “I had a plan… what was it again?”

To wrap it up after such long post, living with Neptune’s influence means you’ve got a backstage pass to the land of dreams, creativity, and big feelings. But it also means you might find yourself getting tangled up in illusions, setting sky-high standards that real life simply can’t meet. So when Neptune touches your personal planets, just remember: it's okay to dream big, but keep a little reality check in your back pocket. You can chase those rainbows, but don’t forget to pack an umbrella for when they dissolve into rain.

Thanks so much for reading, love you! 🥰

Written by @soberpluto

[thinkingotherwise]

Hello! Just a girly obsessed with Umemiya, requesting a scenario where he thinks reader and him are dating but he didn’t officially ask. A little bit of panic happens before he realizes his mistake 😆🥹🩵 (any levels of spicy 😆) 🙏🏼

Cute, it's like dating but not really.

Hajime is a little chaotic in this and acts before thinking.

Hajime Umemiya x reader

A little spoiler to Hajime's backstory, not much he just wants to introduce you to his family.

- Umemiya's touch was more frequent, you noticed recently. It was surprising but you didn't mind it at all. - It brought you a sense of relief even if you felt warm whenever it happened. - Of course, your mind searched for the source of what exactly brought this new wave of touchiness. - You remembered it all started during the latest BBQ party that the Bofurin Leader organized and you helped, as usual. - Yet you couldn't recall the specific moment that could bring it, that could deepen your relationship with him. - So you went with it. The fact that you had a crush on him might have been an additional reason.

- But then he asked you to visit his old orphanage together and oh dear, if you knew what it would entail. - You agreed, why wouldn't you when he smiled at you like that with eyes full of excitement? - You walked with him up to the front doors voicing how nervous you were to meet such important people in his life. - "Don't worry, I'm sure they'd love you, I know I do." - He said and that made your mind blank. Did you hear him correctly just now? - Noticing your absentminded stare he thought you were really anxious, so he stepped closer placing his hand on your cheek before connecting your lips together. - Okay, now saying you were confused would be an understatement. - Your brain shut off as you let his lips move against yours. You felt your blood pumping rapidly as warmth spread all over your body. - Then he pulled away sending you his pretty smile and your eyes moved frantically over his features. Your mouth opened as you breathed heavily trying to calm yourself. - "What was-" - You were cut off as Hajime brushed your cheek before letting his hand fall to grip yours. - "You're gonna do well. Don't worry." - His voice was calm and comforting, complete opposite to how you were feeling right now. - Everything happened way too fast for you to catch up. First, he saying he loved you, kissing you, and now the front door opened showing some kids as they cheered seeing Hajime. - An older man appeared behind the group and you felt as if you were about to get a heart attack when Hajime's next words left his mouth. - "Hello guys, as promised, I brought my partner with me. That's (Y/n), be nice to them." - This man, he really wanted to put you in hospital with his unpredictable behavior. - "Ex-excuse me?" - You questioned your hand tightening around Hajime as he still held it. - The older man brought the kids back inside and motioned for you two to join them. Yet you didn't move. - Your hand pulled on Bofurin leader's as you finally collected some confidence to question him. - "Hajime, what is this all about? We're not dating, are we?" - You asked with wide eyes questioning even yourself, if maybe you forgot about something. Did you have some short-term memory loss? - His head tilted to the side as his eyes looked at you disoriented. - "We are, aren't we?" - He questioned back. - And now both of you stood, in front of his orphanage with doors open wide, frozen in place instead of entering. - "Since when?" - You tried to remember when it did happen, was it why he was more touchy with you recently because he thought you were going out? - "Umm.. since the BBQ." - He replied his voice losing its volume, but as he stood close to you, you heard him perfectly well. - "I confessed to you and you reciprocated my feelings." - He added and you went back the memory lane to the day.

- In your mind, it seemed like a normal conversation, well slightly normal as you certainly remembered him saying he liked you in front of everyone, but he did so with others as well and you thought he meant it in a friendly way, so you replied that you liked him too. - You described the memory to him and watched as his mouth opened wide and his ears colored red. - He covered his mouth with his hand and turned away from you as he gasped when reality crashed into him. - Why? Well, he remembered the moment a little differently. - He was looking at you, enchanted by your smile, so much so that he didn't realize that instead of saying things out loud he was thinking them inside his head. In his mind, he confessed all of feelings to you before finally voicing out a short 'I like you'. Which honestly, was supposed to sum up all of his confession but how could it make sense for you when you couldn't read his mind? - So when he heard you saying you also like him, he immediately thought you also shared the same deep feelings he did and that meant you were together.

- The realization appeared in his eyes as he slowly turned to you, his eyes glistening with tears as he looked so apologetic. - "I'm so sorry. Oh my God.. I really apologize I-" - His voice cut as he recalled the last minutes and what he did as well as his previous actions that must have made you uncomfortable, in his opinion. - His knees bent as he kneeled in front of you head bowed down. - You gasped in surprise and embarrassment as he apologized to you. - Your hand moved to grab his biceps as you tried to pick him up from the ground, your eyes darting behind him to the open doors trying to see if someone was watching. But when you found no one you pulled on his arm and he finally stood up. - "I really am sorry, I'll tell everyone at the orphanage that you're my friend and explain it." - He rambled on and you covered his mouth to make him listen to you. - "Umm I really was surprised and confused when you did all that." - You waved your hand as you started talking. Flustered like never but also a little amused at the fact that he confessed to you in his head. - "But I really didn't mind when you became closer. I mean, I do like you, like as more than just a friend but it would be nice to know we were actually dating." - A small smile appeared on your face and Hajime slowly became more relieved seeing that you didn't mind his actions as much as he thought you would. - "So if you still want to, we can make it a reality and this time confess out loud." - His head moved rapidly nodding at your words as he grabbed your hand and pulled it away from his mouth. - "Yes, sure. Of course, I really liked the thought of dating you and the last days when I thought we did." - He replied excitedly before pulling you into a hug which you reciprocated. - That was until the old man that was leading the orphanage appeared at the doors again asking if you were going to join them or would you just stand outside. - You smiled at him, more confident, now that you cleared things up with Hajime, before walking into the building with your new boyfriend following after you.

[youremyheaven]

Jupiter & Rahu Influence Among Popstars

When I look at pop-stars across industries, I have noticed them all often having the same planetary influence showing up one way or another (usually nakshatra's ruling planet but less often, rashi lord as well).

Now, lets look at what or who a "pop-star" is. The simplest definition is that "a pop-star is a highly successful singer of pop music". Some would say that being a pop-star is the pinnacle of fame. They are at the very top of the entertainment industry food chain.

Actors pretend to be other people for a living but a pop-star is one who has to pretend to be an exaggerated version of themselves for a living. Most pop-stars have an alter ego or stage persona that they project, sometimes these alter egos have different names, other times they don't.

If you think about it, being exalted to the status of a superstar, akin to a God or deity and being adored, worshipped and obsessed over by millions of people, for being "you" is a bit bizarre in itself. Actors spend months making movies and playing a character, someone singing and dancing on stage and "being" themselves sounds simpler even though, in truth, it is a much harder job. If your full time job was being an exaggerated version of you, you'd struggle immensely with your sense of self. Most people would have some kind of breakdown, being unable to distinguish between what is "really" them and what belongs to the persona.

I'm by no means suggesting that Jupiter influenced people are exempt from having an identity crisis. In fact, I would say its the opposite. I think due to the expansive and boundless nature of Jupiter, which has a tendency to exaggerate the effects of whatever it touches, most Jupiter natives kind of permanently live in a state of "in-between-ness" , this feeling of being stuck in limbo is reflected in how each Jupiter ruled nakshatra falls between two rashis, one air and another water.

Punarvasu- Gemini & Cancer

Vishaka- Libra & Scorpio

Purvabhadrapada- Aquarius & Pisces

These 2 elements are very different from one another, Air element is typically associated with the intellect and ideas, whereas the Water element is associated with emotions, spirituality, wisdom etc. So, Jupiter, the planet of luck and abundance, the "Guru" (teacher) is one that is "well rounded" in the sense that it is both practical as well as spiritual and emotional. This also insinuates that, in order to amass abundance and be fortunate in life, one has to have a mixture of opposite qualities and be "well rounded". Duality is an innate theme of Jupiter, and whilst many think of duality as having opposite qualities, its wiser to think of Jupiter as the union of opposites. Light and dark, good and evil, feminine and masculine, peace and violence, love and hatred, all co-exist together here. Due to the scholarly "Guru" nature of Jupiter, it becomes the duty of its native to rise above the lower manifestations of these energies and embody the principled nature of it. In this sense, its not just the "meeting" of good and evil but the triumph of good over evil.

I had already explored in a previous post about how having an alter ego/multiple identities is kind of a Jupiter thing. Most Jupiter influenced individuals majorly struggle with their identity simply because they feel like they're "all things" and this sort of commercial marketing of "aesthetics" and "niches" is very limiting. They're all things, all at once. This can be disorienting for others who struggle with their identity for other reasons (Nodals who struggle with over-attachment and detachment, Malefic gworls who don't have very many hobbies/interests/passions to base their personality off of). Its hard to explain what "being everything" is like to people who don't have a sense of self/reality to begin with, or those who have a very narrow or rigid understanding of themselves. We're familiar with Rahu mania but Jupiter mania often flies under the radar because they seem so put together on the outside, unlike Rahuvians who wear their madness on their sleeve.

Most people would have a tough time figuring out how a Jupiter native actually felt or if they were going through something in their personal life because they're usually stoic af and very well kept. Their world could be falling apart but they will never lose their etiquette or their manners. This can lead to scenarios where they're either not given adequate consideration for their suffering because they dont "look/seem" like they're going through it OR people tear them apart for seeming too "cold/nonchalant" even in the face of crisis. People like to see vulnerability because it makes others more humane and relatable and sometimes the stoicism of Jupiter natives can irk others because it makes them seem robotic or beyond human.

How does all of this tie into Jupiter being the most common planetary influence among pop-stars?

I had already mentioned that pop-stars are idolized for simply existing. Having the expansive energy of Jupiter helps one become a vessel for the projections of others. You can be anything or anyone to everyone. I have observed Jupiter influenced individuals code switching irl, in the sense that they have an entirely different personality depending on who they're interacting with and usually have several different friend groups that have nothing remotely in common with each other.

Many anons have mentioned dating Jupiter men who seem very sweet and giving and then being mindblown when they turn out to be insane party animals who smoke and drink till they drop and go batshit insane at the club. They seem too "goody two shoes"-y to be about that life, yet they are.

Being a performer/pop-star seems to suit Jupiter natives because it gives them an outlet to channel their manyyyy sides. Even their alter egos have alter egos and if they had to live normal lives, it would kinda drive them crazy unless they found some phenomenal ways to compartmentalize all that stuff. Not to rely on anecdotal evidence (I'll cite more "celebrity" examples after this) but there's a guy I know whose chart is heavily Jupiter influenced and he is the most responsible family man ever and provides for his whole family but he is also extremely passionate about weed, does not say no to a drink and LOVES to party. He lives in an apartment complex with a lot of people our age and mf is always at someone's house party 😭😭 I am in no way implying that these things CANNOT co-exist, that you can't both be a hardworking family guy who looks after everyone AND drown yourself in booze but typically the kind of person you associate with one kinda lifestyle is not who you associate with the other, if ykwim

There are many examples of these "contradictions"

Miley Cyrus, Vishaka Moon

She is known for her wild, freaky stage performances and her no-nonsense personality but beyond all that, Miley is a homebody who has a gazillion animals and lives a very "simple" (or simple, for a celebrity anyway) life.

Beyonce, Vishaka Moon

Beyond all her glamour, Bey is veryyyy lowkey and raises honeybees in her backyard and harvests her own honey. She's very spiritual and is all about her family and minding her own business. I know this isn't news to anyone but isn't it interesting how the biggest pop-star of our time, known for her fierce performances and larger than life persona, is actually a tradwife? A proper Southern lady, if you will.

Jennie, Vishaka Moon

In a recent interview, she said:

"Anyone who meets me will say I’m so far from what I represent as me onstage...it's a part of me , a switch inside of me that I can just click.”

(This is SOOO Jupiter coded of her)

Jennie's friend Deb Never described her as:

“She’s shy and really humble and very sweet,” she says. “And then as soon as it comes to music and how she performs, it’s this flip side, this opposite person where it’s like in your face and very outspoken. It’s not like she’s acting. It’s being able to let out a whole other side of you that you don’t get to in real life. There’s a vulnerability in that.”

I had mentioned a few times previously about how Jupiter and Rahu's energies can be veryyyy similar. Jupiter has more structure and can keep the mania and obsession under wraps a bit more than the average Rahuvian (Jupiter is a benefic, Rahu is a malefic, so the limitless energies are channelled in more "beneficial" ways by a Jupiterean and in less beneficial ways by a Rahuvian). Looking at the charts of entertainers who were/are highly successful, the Jupiter + Rahu influence recurring is crazyyyy.

Frank Sinatra is considered one of the earliest pop-stars. He is a Shatabhisha Moon.

Elvis Presley, Shatabhisha Moon

Aretha Franklin, Punarvasu Moon, Vishaka Rising

Billy Joel, Punarvasu Rising

Michael Jackson, Shatabhisha/Purvabhadrapada Moon

I am not trying to imply that people without Jupiter influence can't be pop-stars, they can!! But when they aren't Jupiter influenced, they're usually Nodal

Mariah Carey, Punarvasu Moon

Whitney Houston, Shatabhisha Rising

Celine Dion, Venus atmakaraka in Purvabhadrapada and Mercury amatyakaraka in Purvabhadrapada

Taylor Swift, Ardra Moon

Diana Ross, Vishaka Rising

Eric Clapton, Swati Moon

The shapeshifting ability of these natives is what allows them to flourish in an industry where you're essentially selling yourself as a product.

Adele, Ardra Rising

Lady Gaga, Swati Moon

Ariana Grande, Ardra Sun

Rihanna, Shatabhisha Sun

Dua Lipa, Ardra/Punarvasu Moon

Katy Perry, Swati Sun/Mercury/Rising and Vishaka Moon

Billie Eilish, Purvabhadrapada Rising

Shakira, Punarvasu Moon

Lana Del Rey, Ardra Sun, Vishaka Rising

Halsey, Punarvasu Moon & Mars, Vishaka stellium (Venus/Jup/Rahu) and Swati Mercury conjunct Rising

Janet Jackson, Ketu conjunct Rising in Vishaka

Lorde, Vishaka Sun & Mercury

Sabrina Carpenter, Purvabhadrapada Moon & Rising (she's also Bharani Sun and that's why she's an it girl)

Chappell Roan, Shatabhisha Sun/Jupiter/Ketu

Charli XcX- Ardra Rising

[disguting-girl-reads]

“John mentioning how 15 year old Sam and 19 year old Dean are not getting along as well as they used to (I have a weecest headcanon about that)”

would love to know your headcanon for this ❤️

ooh I'll gladly tell you lol

I talked a bit about my take on weecest on this post

so yea, i do think they’re acting weird around each other, and - in john’s eyes - not getting along as well as they used to, because they’re drowning in guilt over their new, confusing thoughts about each other...

sam is growing up. he’s starting to look and act less like a kid, pushing back against their dad more and more. he’s not falling into the role of dean’s little brother as easily, and that, on its own, is already disorienting for both of them

at this point, they’re both teenagers, dean on the edge of adulthood, sam leaving childhood behind, and they’re isolated from the world in a sense (always moving around, not being able to be truthfull with their colleagues, john even avoid other hunters much, so their world is really small). john even mentions that they have no friends, no roots anywhere. so, in that kind of environment, it’s not hard to imagine things shifting into a boundary-blurring situation

sam is fifteen, his hormones are all over the place, and he’s painfully embarrassed about it. he starts noticing dean more, not that he never did before. his brother has always been otherworldly pretty, and everyone around them noticed that. but now, sam is dreaming about him... his hands, his lips, his freckles. he tries to redirect his attention to the girls at school, because that’s what he should be doing. but it never works. every time, he just ends up comparing them to dean, and no one ever measures up.

dean's has an even more messed up approach to this. he's straight. he’s never had trouble picking up girls, and he’s never really noticed other guys before (maybe once or twice, but never enough to think about it). so when he starts catching himself staring at sam, he doesn’t even realize what kind of stare it is at first. sam is growing, almost as tall as him now, getting stronger. so if dean watches him train a little too closely, it’s just because he’s proud of him…

so they start avoiding each other, both trying to push down what they’re feeling

sam is more aware of what this is, so in a way, avoiding dean is his way to punish himself, because in his mind, dean would never have thoughts like this. dean is good and pure. he’s the freak. he always has been.

dean, on the other hand, is a bit more clueless about what’s happening, or more likely, he’s just repressing it harder. he tries to counteract his attraction by going out with more girls, doubling down on treating sam like a kid, because that’s what he’s supposed to do. If he keeps seeing sam as a boy, it’ll stop him from seeing him as a man, and that solves this issue because he's not that much of creep. but sam pushes back, refusing to fall into that role anymore, and it shatters dean’s illusion...

and that’s when the resentment starts, both of them hating the way the other makes them feel...

so yeah, I do think they’re not getting along as well, weighed down by guilt and repression and resentment, and that causes that sense of "weirdness" between them that John catches...

sorry for such a huge response 😭 I'm just so insane about this

[bamfkeeper]

Above.

RQ: 'Hello 👋 I was hoping your requests are still open and I'm not too late! I know my oc Haven is very specific, and I completely understand if you need to work around. I wanted to request a fic centered around the idea that Haven returns to earth in their Seraphim form with like a whole new bunch of traumas, and they think Kurt will not like them anymore because they're a freaky-looking angelic alien with seven eyes and shit. I hope it's not too much, I completely understand if u ignore this request, lmao.' - @ladylorem

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x GN!Reader // Warnings: None

A/N: My very first X-Men oc was a 'fallen seraph' so your oc really brings me back. I love them, and I'm happy to write this for you. I hope I do a good job, I took some liberty since oc work isn't something I am currently doing, but it will heavily be based on the scenario you gave me. No specific names will be used in this. Also tried a new writing style <3 WC: 2.4k

Deep breath...shit.

You sat up slowly, your eyelids fluttering open as consciousness gradually returned. A deep, pervasive ache radiated through every fiber of your being, accompanied by a disorienting fog that clouded your thoughts. The pulsating pain in your head served as an unwelcome alarm clock, forcing you into full wakefulness. As your senses sharpened, you became acutely aware of your surroundings, taking in every detail with newfound clarity.

An unfamiliar sensation coursed through your veins, a palpable energy that seemed to hum just beneath your skin. This newfound power, a direct result of your celestial descent, both exhilarated and unsettled you. The transformation you had undergone during your otherworldly journey altered you in ways you had yet to fully comprehend, including your physical appearance.

As the initial shock of your awakening began to subside, a single thought crystallized in your mind: Kurt. The overwhelming desire to find him, to see a familiar face in this sea of uncertainty, consumed you. Yet, even as you yearned for his presence, a nagging doubt crept into your thoughts. How would he react to your metamorphosis? Would he recognize you? Accept you? The fear of rejection battled with your need for connection, leaving you torn between seeking him out and retreating into solitude to process your transformation.

You stood on wobbly legs, reminiscent of a newborn fawn taking its first, shaky steps into the world. The sensation coursing through your body was an enigmatic blend of strength and weakness, as if a potent mixture of adrenaline and warm gasoline was flowing through your veins, igniting every nerve ending. You felt hot, your skin almost smoking and emitting waves of warm rays that coated you from the cool night air.

Your physical form had undergone a transformation, taking on what you could only describe as a more... biblical appearance. Though you couldn't discern the exact nature of your new visage, you knew it was likely most who gazed upon you would react with fear.

All you yearned for in this moment was to see Kurt, nothing else mattered. The ordeal you had endured left you craving the comfort only he could provide. You longed for the familiar warmth of his embrace, the gentle strength of his arms encircling you, creating a sanctuary where you could momentarily forget the events that had transpired. Your heart ached for the soothing words he always seemed to know how to offer, his voice a gentle blanket to your frayed nerves and turbulent emotions.

"Kurt..." you whispered softly, your voice barely audible as you set off on your quest to find him. The unfamiliar surroundings did little to deter your determination. Despite having landed in an unknown location, a mysterious force seemed to guide your every step. It was as if an invisible thread connected your heart to his, pulling you gently but insistently in the right direction. Your intuition, honed by years of connection and shared experiences, acted as an unerring compass, leading you through the unfamiliar terrain of the thick forest.

As you navigated, your thoughts drifted to Kurt. You couldn't help but reflect on the unique bond you shared - a connection so profound that it transcended physical distance and the constraints of the ordinary world. He had always been the one person who truly understood you, who held your heart with a tenderness that both comforted and amazed you. He was the first person, first mutant who didn’t try to hurt you. Instead, he approached you like a person, talking and making you feel more at ease despite your first introduction to the team. He made you feel safe.

When you finally reached the mansion, exhaustion had overtaken you. Your body felt like lead, weighing you down with each step. Fatigue clouded your mind, making even the simplest thoughts a struggle. A gnawing hunger twisted in your stomach, reminding you of how long it had been since your last meal. Damn, some of Kurt’s cooking sounded great right about now. The biting cold had seeped into your bones, causing involuntary shivers to run through your frame. All you could think about was the warmth and comfort of Kurt's bed, imagining yourself wrapped in soft blankets, safe from the harsh world outside.

With sheer determination, you willed your leaden legs to keep moving. Each step was a battle against your body's desire to simply collapse where you stood. The mansion loomed before you, almost taunting your weary state. Just a little further, you told yourself, even as your muscles screamed in protest. Finally, your strength gave out.

Unable to take another step, you felt your knees buckle beneath you. The world tilted, and you found yourself falling forward, your hands and knees sinking into the damp, cool grass of the mansion's lawn. The moisture from the ground seeped through your clothes, you swayed and ended up falling over on your side. The world faded to black after that, and you felt all the pain disappear.

When you regained consciousness, your numerous eyes slowly flickering open, you found yourself lying in the sterile environment of the mansion's infirmary. Not the best place to wake up to…it didn’t exactly have a good record in your mind. The stark white ceiling above you gradually came into focus as you blinked away the lingering haziness of unconsciousness. As your vision began to clear, you noticed a blurry blue figure standing nearby, its presence both comforting and familiar.

Your mind, still foggy from whatever ordeal had brought you here, immediately conjured thoughts of Kurt. With a surge of hope, you attempted to speak his name, your voice coming out as little more than a hoarse whisper. However, as you blinked more forcefully, willing your eyes to cooperate and bring the world into sharper focus, the blue blur began to take on a more distinct shape.

As the figure's features became clearer, a wave of disappointment washed over you. The furry blue form standing at your bedside was not the lithe, acrobatic shape of your Nightcrawler, but rather the broader, more imposing silhouette of Beast. You couldn't help but let out a small sigh, your expectations dashed even as you recognized the concern evident in Hank's intelligent eyes.

"There we are, take it easy now...you're okay. Just exhausted and a little weak. Nothing some rest and medicine won't help." Hank noted, his voice gentle and reassuring. He maintained a respectful distance, carefully observing your condition without encroaching on your personal space. His medical expertise was evident in the way he assessed your state, but he was mindful not to overwhelm you with too much attention or proximity. He understood that in your vulnerable state, even well-intentioned gestures might be misinterpreted or cause discomfort. Especially knowing your history with him and the others.

Despite Hank's soothing words and professional demeanor, his voice seemed to fade into the background of your consciousness. Your mind was singularly focused on one person, the one you desperately needed to see. The concern etched on Hank's face barely registered as your thoughts raced, wondering about Kurt's whereabouts and whether he was aware of your current situation. The urgency to connect with him overshadowed everything else, even your own physical discomfort.

"Kurt...I-" you managed to utter, your voice weak but filled with longing and concern.

"He's coming. I promise," Hank interjected quickly, his tone reassuring and firm. He recognized the importance of Kurt's presence in your recovery and sought to alleviate your worry with this simple yet powerful assurance.

The door swung open with a sudden creak, and there he stood, your beloved Kurt, framed in the doorway. His striking yellow eyes were wide with concern, brimming with a mixture of worry and relief as they locked onto your form. Without hesitation, he rushed into the room, his movements urgent and slightly clumsy in his haste. He nearly stumbled over his own feet in his eagerness to reach your bedside, his tail swishing anxiously behind him.

In an instant, he was at your side, his hands enveloping your own, having ripped off his gloves so he could feel you. His grip was gentle yet firm, conveying a multitude of emotions through that simple touch. You could feel the slight tremor in his fingers, his concern ran deep and he looked as though he had seen a ghost, like he believed you died. The warmth of his hands felt nice against the cool, sterile atmosphere of the room, providing a comforting anchor in the otherwise clinical environment.

Kurt's lips parted, and for a moment, he seemed at a loss for words. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper, thick with emotion. "L-liebling..." he managed to utter. His gaze never left yours, silently communicating all the things left unsaid between you.

His expression remained steadfast, never wavering for a moment. His eyes meticulously scanned your appearance, taking in every detail with a mixture of confusion and worry etched across his features. However, contrary to your expectations, there was no trace of disgust or fear in his gaze. Instead, his eyes held a depth of emotion that spoke volumes.

"D...Don't...scare me like that..." Kurt finally managed to articulate, his voice barely above a whisper as he swallowed thickly. The words seemed to catch in his throat, as if he was struggling to voice the tumultuous emotions swirling within him. "I was...so afraid I would never see you again. I had no idea where you had gone off to," he continued, his voice cracking slightly with the weight of his confession.

Though his words carried a hint of admonishment, as if he was attempting to scold you for your disappearance, the underlying pain in his voice was unmistakable. The tremor in his voice betrayed the fear he had experienced during your absence, and the palpable relief that washed over him now that you were back in his sight.

"I'm sorry...you're not...afraid?" Your voice quivered with a mixture of disbelief and vulnerability. "Look at me now. I look utterly..." Your words trailed off, unable to find the right descriptor for your current state. A tumultuous blend of emotions washed over you - sadness at your appearance, anger at the situation, and confusion at his unexpected reaction. You had braced yourself for revulsion, for fear, for any number of negative responses.

Yet here he was, his eyes filled with nothing but genuine concern. It defied all your expectations, leaving you feeling both comforted and somehow more exposed. "Why are you so concerned despite my appearance?" you found yourself asking, your tone a blend of wonder and wariness. "I was certain you'd react differently, that you'd recoil or..." You left the sentence unfinished, the possibilities too painful to voice.

But contrary to your fears, he sat there unwavering, his worry for you evident in every line of his face, in the way he leaned towards you as if wanting to offer comfort but unsure if it would be welcome.

"Why would I care about your appearance? I... I mean, yes, you do look different, but that's not what matters," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. He slowly reached up, his three-fingered hand gently caressing your cheek. He allowed his fingers to tenderly trace the contours of your face, memorizing every new detail. A soft, reassuring smile spread across his lips as he gazed into your eyes.

"You're still... you," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. That gentle smile widened slightly, revealing his pointed canines, "The essence of who you are, your spirit, your heart - that hasn't changed. And that's what truly matters to me."

His eyes sparkled with warmth and understanding as he added, "Besides, mein Engel... I'm blue from head to toe and have a tail. Who am I to pass judgment based on appearances? We're both unique in our own ways, and that's what makes us special."

You felt a wave of relief wash over you as that particular stressor dissipated, leaving you with a sense of renewed calm. Kurt remained silent for a moment, his eyes filled with relief that you were okay and compassion as he knew your mental struggles were flaring.

Then, with a gentle voice that carried the weight of his sincerity, he spoke up again, "And whatever else you're grappling with, whatever challenges you're facing... I want you to know that I'm here for you. Not just now, but always. No matter where life takes you, no matter how far you might wander, I'll be here, waiting. You are the beating heart of my existence, the love that gives my life meaning. In me, you will always find a sanctuary, a place of unconditional acceptance and unwavering support. You are my home, and I promise to be yours, forever and always."

"I... I'm at a loss for words. Your reaction is so unexpected, given my altered appearance and... the events that transpired." You murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, thick with emotion. "I love you too, more than I can express. I'm truly sorry for my sudden disappearance. There were...complications I needed to resolve. But now, being back here with you, I'm relieved. Seeing you, seeing how you look at me...nothing has changed, has it?" You let out a sigh of relief, your hand weakly reaching and holding onto his.

"I've missed you. You've always been the one person who could see through my façade, who could truly understand me despite everything. Your acceptance...without any kind of ill thoughts, it means everything to me."

"As do you, liebling...Ich liebe dich. I am here now, you are not alone anymore," he whispered tenderly, his voice a soft caress in the quiet room. With gentle movements, he carefully shifted closer, the bed dipping slightly under his weight as he settled beside you. His arms enveloped you in a warm, comforting embrace, pulling you against his chest with a tenderness that spoke volumes of his affection. This was all you wanted…his arms tenderly holding you. "You've been through so much, mein schatz, but I promise you, those days of loneliness are behind you now. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. Let me…"

His lips quirked into a playful smirk, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes as he added, "Besides, now you have more eyes to gaze into, hm? Twice the charm, wouldn't you say?" His attempt at lightening the mood was met with a gentle swat to his chest, your hand connecting with the soft fabric of his uniform.

"Kurt..." you murmured, a mix of exasperation and fondness coloring your voice. "You absolute dork." Despite your words, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips, betraying the warmth that spread through your chest at his endearing antics.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover image: Nightcrawler (2015) # 10 ; Pinterest

[rotthepoet]

Enz and theo threesome 🫠🫠

Omg omgomg okay im using your corrected ask to write the actual fic but i woke up at 5:26am in a blind panic(y’all ever have texting dreams? Fuck that shit. Theyre so disorienting) anyways!!!! This was such a treat to wake up to! Youre a beautiful genius and i love you and im so excited to write this

Because enzo and theo both treating you like a princess during foreplay. Youre so shy and sweet and theyre buttering you up and you have NO idea how rough theyre about to get. Just imagine Theo muttering sweet words in Italian while he feels all over your body, and Enzo is kissing down your neck and tracing his name into uour skin. Theyre soooo gentle and so sweet

I mean until youre on your hands and knees. Then theyre not as sweet anymore. In fact theyre really mean :( theyre so rough with you and they’re making fun of you for crying when youre overstimulated and its a complete 180° from 20 minutes ago!!! Like!!! They spent so long easing you into a pretty little sub for them and now they’re just using you like a toy?? What the freak guys.

I stand by asshole lorenzo for all my days, and I think hes so much meaner than Theo. He has your mouth and hes making fun of the sounds uou make and the way your eyes roll back-youre absolutely stunning but let a man have a bit of fun.

Theo… still not super nice but def more likely to talk you through it. “Oh Enzo is just mad its not him inside this pretty pussy…” “oh thats right, keep on moaning my name around his dick, it makes him so angry.”

Anyways! Will have an actual fic uploaded aaaaaaaa by the beginning of next week for sure. I have a busy weekend give me some grace pls my love 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

[onesidedradiostatic]

aromantic alastor headcanons for aro-week (with some ace in there as well, because I think for alastor those things are so entwined, it's hard to separate them):

tried going out with girls a couple of times when he was alive, to make his mother happy, but always found a way to extricate himself from the attachment. this ties into his learning how to have complete control over any situation he's in

I wonder as well about whether or not he "passed" as white, or whether his community knew that he was creole, and how that affected his dating opportunities, and his paranoia, his need to be in control, basically his constant hyper-vigilance

got a lot of fanmail for his radio host work, women (and men, but more furtively) loooved his voice. this was acceptable, because (apart from some of the weirder ones) he could use this as a metric for how accepted he was in society, as well as how well he was passing -- both in terms of race and orientation, but also youknow, as someone who is definitely not clockable as a serial killer

although of course we know he also enjoyed company. he'd go out drinking and dancing a lot. was mimzy a bit in love with him? I just like the idea that people kept being incredibly taken with his charm and his politeness and his poise, because he does have all those traits. whether he notices...? (no). I mention this point not so much as headcanon, I just like that alastor as aroace and repulsed on both of those points, was never a shut-in about it. he's always been very lively (ha) and outgoing, and clearly likes being in the company of others... but maybe that last point has gotten to be a little difficult during his time in hell, due to having to be so careful about showing any kind of emotional "weakness." speaking of...

post-death became a more extreme version of himself -- that is, a man on a mission to be in control and create emotional distance between himself and others through the power of voice, rather than having to faff about pretending emotional connections where there were none. very suited for hell because of his precarious political lived reality whilst alive, and because hell is built on who has power and who doesn't. these are rituals he understands better than the strange romantic ones during life

the smile as mask and unhealthy coping mechanism -- wonder if when he was alive people swooned over his having a lovely smile (as well as its being useful to placate and to disorient people who had more violent intentions, and in both cases potentially to lure in victims). so the smile likewise became the most extreme version of itself. the smile in essence as the signifier of someone who doesn't fit into any boxes and needs to hide that fact, both by being mixed race and aroace, but then the smile itself becomes something that effectively owns him, because he literally cannot let it drop, ever (honestly if alastor ever stops smiling, it'll be the biggest gasp moment on this show)

all that being said, surprising connections do occur: rosie, I think, sees through him from the beginning, and she's so disarming (ha, disarming... cannibal joke) that she never feels like a threat + they're both cannibals, so there's a relaxed kinship there and maybe she reminds him of the parts of home he (secretly) misses a bit

I wonder how rosie figured out that alastor wasn't into dating. I think at first she might have thought he was gay, but then quite quickly seen that that's not it, he doesn't even like men much, and she feels like she's been around the block enough to piece together peoples' natures from one of a million other people she's known, so way before she knows the terminology, she knows, and crucially, she never judges or tries to force the point

I wonder how vox and alastor met -- whether vox was able to gain power on his own and this attracted alastor's attention, or if alastor saw something of himself (that turned out to be surface level) in vox, that is, they both wear smiles as masks, they're both presenters, their mediums may be different, but their aims feel similar. perhaps alastor was comfortable enough in hell at this point -- probably in a way he never was whilst alive -- that he was feeling magnanimous towards what must have felt a bit like an upstart. and most importantly, the constraints of alloromantic ideas are a comfortable 20 years in the past by now, alastor can barely remember that this was ever anything that was expected of him, or that others' could possibly feel about him

cue vox falling head over heels, the way people so often did while he was alive, and he... does not notice at all (barely a headcanon). I kind of feel like I don't have much to say on these two, because this blog is already a treasure trove of vox and alastor hcs!

I think rosie is the only one who knows alastor is aroace, although... maybe husk? not in so many words, but he knows alastor isn't interested in those things. nifty Does Not Notice Nor Care (in a good way). charlie i will forever think will at some point do a deep-dive on modern queer lingo and get everyone flags (this is practically word of god canon considering that older piece of art you shared). vox definitely doesn't know. val....... sort of kinda knows but in an evil way. vaggie does not care, but she'd be chill about it. mimzy... I don't think knows, mainly because she never cared to think about his behaviours, as someone who's quite self-centered on what alastor is to her. jeez, who am i missing... angel, does not know, head empty

speaking of angel, I think if he ever found out, especially with where he's at in his journey rn, would be very unhappy in some way about having stepped over his boundaries so often so casually at the beginning. dunno how he'd act about it, but i like the idea of vigilantly (and crudely, and bluntly) supportive angel if they ever manage to get alastor out on the town. more on the ace side of things but i can see him going: "do not try to fuck this guy! this guy is unfuckable!"

(i like hypersexual and deeply romantic angel + sex and romance repulsed alastor as unlikely friendship in my head. opposites finding common ground type stuff is always good)

at the end of the day, alastor living and dying in an amatonormative world and having to orient himself within that by building walls that persist/worsen after his death because of the culture of hell being predicated on who controls whom, veeeeery slowly discovering that he can be vulnerable on his own terms without people demanding things from him that he cannot give (smthinsmthin the hotel gang as the opposite of vox in that sense -- not only that sense, but also that)

also something about imagining his mother hoping he'd find a nice girl and settle down (in the way parents often do, because that's the metric of happiness right.....) and how he never could give her what she wanted, and maybe feels some very locked away guilt about that, which he thinks he'll never be able to deal with because his mother is in heaven, but perhaps in this story she'll get to see what he's built with the people at the hotel and that's really all she wanted for him in the end

OH MY GOD ANON THIS IS ALL SO GOOD?? THANK YOU SO MUCH HAHAHA. happy aro week everyone!! (x2)

[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 9 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: What are you supposed to do when you don't know how to talk to your husband? How is he supposed to love you and your body when you can't even figure out how to love yourself anymore? You watch Bradley leave for deployment. 

Warnings: Angst, sex, swearing

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

When you woke up on the bathroom floor the morning after your promotion banquet, and remembered what happened, you started crying. Your dress whites had been so perfect and crisply pressed. The excitement for your new piece of hardwear had fueled you along. You had forgotten about how much you hated your body right now, at least for a few hours. 

Everything ached as you stood up and tried to stretch out all of the kinks you had from sleeping on the bath mat. Bradley was leaving tomorrow. He would be gone for eight weeks. And you didn't even want to leave this bathroom and see him right now. 

But when you opened the door, curious about what time it was and ready to pack your back and go home, you nearly tripped over your husband. He was sleeping on the floor outside the bathroom, curled up with a pillow and a sheet. You braced yourself on the doorway so you didn't fall. 

"Baby Girl," he croaked, his voice still hoarse.

Your eyes were stinging, and you felt miserable knowing he had slept on the floor, too. But he had ruined your night, and you didn't even want to have to listen to him apologize to you. 

"I want to go home," you informed him with a steady voice that betrayed how terrible you felt. 

"Can we talk about this?" he asked, getting to his feet and looking as miserable as you felt. "I wasn't trying to hurt you."

You just closed your eyes and shook your head. The sooner you got home, the sooner you could take a bath and change and start to feel better. "I don't want to talk about this right now."

He ran his hand over his face and swallowed hard, and you slipped past him to get your stuff together. 

You were back home by nine o'clock. Part of you wanted Bradley to vanish and leave you alone. The rest of you was panicking inside, because by this time tomorrow, he would be gone. And then what would you do? It might be weeks before he could call you. But even though you knew you needed to straighten things out right now, you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. 

So you sank down into a bubble bath while he muttered something about taking Tramp for a walk. Good. He was gone now. The house was quiet. And you were left alone to think about how out of control your emotions were. But you decided were allowed to be frustrated that your night got ruined, and you were allowed to be annoyed with Bradley. However, today was also your last chance to see him for two months. And you were ovulating. 

So you shaved your legs and got out of the bath. Then you tried to do your normal routine of drying off and applying lotion, but you could hear Bradley messing around in the bedroom. When you wrapped your towel around yourself and poked your head in, he looked up from his duffle bag. "Hi," he said softly. He had his underwear and some clothing in stacks on the dresser. He was packing to leave. 

You shifted your weight from foot to foot, your fingernails digging into your palms. Never had you ever, not even once, felt this awkward around him. It was disorienting and unsettling. You couldn't have imagined this if you tried. His brown eyes were sad and apologetic, but he seemed to be holding back what he wanted to say. And you were sure your expression was similar. 

You had no idea how to make any of this better. So you blurted out the first thing on your tongue. "You're right. We shouldn't be wasting time. And maybe there's something physically wrong with one of us, but maybe there's not. So I think we should have sex today. While I'm ovulating."

But Bradley didn't budge. He blinked at you and licked his lips. "I'm sorry I upset you. And I really don't know if having sex right now is the best idea, you know?"

It's not like you even wanted to. But you felt like you should. So you let your towel drop to the floor at your feet, because you knew it was impossible for Bradley to feel nothing when you were naked for him. 

His lips parted, his pupils went wide, and his breathing was ragged. "You really want to?"

"Yes," you said softly, lying to your husband even as he took a step closer to you. When his lips met yours, you turned your head so that his mustache skimmed along your neck instead. He kissed down to your shoulder, and it felt good. It always felt good. But you had to force yourself to lay out on the bed as he quickly undressed. 

When Bradley settled on top of you, he stroked his fingers along your slit and then met your eyes. You knew you weren't wet. You bit your lip and had to hold back your tears. 

"We don't have to-" 

"Yes," you said, cutting him off. "We do."

Once again, he looked like you'd physically hit him. He just nodded and brought his fingers up to his lips, coating them with his saliva and returning them to your core. You let your head tip back against the pillow and tried to think about your honeymoon or the way Bradley once gave you a hat trick. You tried to imagine being back in La Jolla. Anything sexy. But all you could think about was how desperately you wanted to see a positive pregnancy test. 

You hiccuped softly, squeezing your eyes shut as Bradley lined himself up with your opening and pushed himself inside you. He just needed to cum. The sooner the better. 

"You okay?" he asked, pushing himself deeper. 

You nodded, barely meeting his eyes. "Yeah."

And so he started to thrust as he kissed softly along your collar bones, but after a few minutes, you could tell he wasn't even as hard as he usually was. Tears stung your eyes. You couldn't do anything right. You couldn't get pregnant. And you couldn't keep your husband hard. You couldn't even seem to go five minutes without wanting to disappear into thin air. 

When Bradley met your eyes, he muttered, "Sorry." 

"It's probably my fault," you whispered, but he pressed his lips to yours and shook his head. 

"It's not, Sweetheart." But he had to bury his face against your neck and stroke himself with his right hand until he was hard enough to fuck you while you laid there beyond mortified. And the sound of his soft grunts as he came inside you was such a relief when you finally heard them, you sank back with your forearm over your eyes. 

Bradley didn't collapse in bed with you. He didn't snuggle up with you in his arms. You felt the bed dip as he climbed out and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. 

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

It was a long time before Bradley felt like he could walk back out into the bedroom and face you. What was happening here? He had fucked up last night. He knew that. He burst your bubble, tainted the delight you felt when you were being promoted. And he hated that he did that. He was proud of you, and he never wanted to disappoint you. But he'd just disappointed you again today. 

You were gone when he opened the door, and he felt relieved. Embarrassment washed over him again. He wasn't hard for you. He was always hard for you. Even at the most inopportune times, he was ready to go just thinking about you. He didn't even need to touch the porn they gave him when he jerked off to collect a sperm sample for testing. He just pulled up one of the videos you and he made on his phone and went to town. Two minutes of looking at your body and listening to your voice and he was filling up that little cup. 

"Fuck," he grunted, returning to his duffle bag instead of looking for you. Because he didn't even know what to say right now. Tears were collecting in his eyes as he packed his bag. His stomach was growling for lunch, but he didn't think he deserved to eat anything. 

As he put the finishing touches on his uniforms and flight suits, he finally tossed his bag aside. He wasn't even going to be here tomorrow. He needed to fix all of this right now. He hadn't told you he loved you all day, and you hadn't said it to him. Maybe starting there would be a good jumping off place to try to fix things. 

"Baby Girl?" he called out as he walked down the hallway into the kitchen. And he was treated to the sight of your beautiful body, gorgeous face and elegant hands. But you were holding the piece of mail he'd been trying in vain to hide all over the house. And when you met his eyes, you looked angry. 

"I can explain," he said, holding his hands up in surrender. But that just seemed to make you more upset.

"What the fuck, Bradley?" you asked, the paperwork shaking in your hand. "Were you going to tell me about this? Or just try to avoid all of it?"

"I-" he started before freezing up. Your face was righteous with anger in a way he'd never witnessed before, and he wished he could go back to yesterday and do everything right. 

Then your face melted into sadness. "You weren't going to say anything. Were you?" When he didn't respond, you screamed, "Were you?"

He watched you ball up the papers in your hands before you threw them at his chest with as much force as you could manage. He caught the paper ball, heart pounding and skin on fire. And then you rounded on him. "I can't believe you got your sperm tested without saying anything to me about it!"

He sucked in a deep breath. "I was just trying to help," he managed as angry tears flowed down your cheeks. When he took a step closer, you pressed your palms to his chest and pushed him back. 

"You didn't fucking help anything! It's all my fault that I can't get pregnant!"

"You don't know that," he said as you shoved him harder. "We don't know that."

You reached out and smacked the balled up paper out of his hand and shouted, "Yes! I do! It's actually my fault. It's a fact. I saw it right there on that paper! Your sperm is perfect. So my body must be fucked up!"

"Baby Girl," he gasped in agony. "Don't. Please." To him, you were perfect. And having a child really wasn't worth seeing you like this. Seeing how you'd been sinking in on yourself over the past few months. But maybe right now you weren't wrong. He didn't even know anymore. 

"And you were just hiding the results from me?" you asked, your voice still shaking with rage. "Blaming me quietly?"

"I'm not blaming you for anything!" he said, louder than he anticipated. His voice boomed through the kitchen, and you looked up at him like you didn't even know who he was. Even Tramp had run for cover by this point. 

"That's okay," you whispered, your eyes unwavering even though they were filled with tears. "I'm blaming myself enough for both of us."

He looked at the floor. There was nothing he could do to fix any of this now. And you were literally the last person he wanted to disappoint. As he raked his fingers through his hair, he whispered, "Maybe it's a good thing that I'm going away tomorrow."

He heard you sob as you kicked the sperm test results across the room and stormed down the hallway. 

You were in bed the rest of the afternoon, and Bradley wasn't sure if you were asleep or not. So he avoided the room altogether as he wallowed in this pain that he brought on himself. And on you.

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

You cried in bed for so long all afternoon, you must have fallen asleep at some point. Bradley's sperm was perfect. It was of higher quality than 95% of men in their mid-thirties. It was ideal for impregnation. The most desirable quality you could imagine. 

And you kept imagining it. He'd come inside you hundreds of times. Thousands of times. Countless times. Even since November, he'd put his Grade A sperm inside you more times than you could possibly keep track of.

So, this was your fault. And now you knew it. You tried for hours to think about work or your friends or even the fact that you should have been able to go to brunch this morning to gush about your promotion banquet. But everything was turning to shit now. It was probably time to think about alternate options. Or consider just giving up completely. 

But why should Bradley have to give up his dream of being a dad just because you weren't able to give him what he wanted? You couldn't be that selfish. As sleep overtook you, disturbing and hurtful ideas filled your mind. You were vaguely aware of Bradley in the room as the afternoon light got dimmer. You could hear him put something in your nightstand. You heard the zipper on his duffle. But you couldn't open your eyes through the haze of pain and exhaustion. 

When you jerked awake in your pitch black bedroom, you heard Bradley's voice next to you. "Are you okay, Sweetheart?" 

You reached for your phone. It was after eleven o'clock. He'd plugged it in for you. He must have gotten himself dinner and taken Tramp out and finished packing for his deployment. 

And then your heart sank as you reached for him. Bradley laced his fingers with yours, and you squeezed your eyes shut at how good it felt to simply hold his hand. 

"I don't know," you whispered, because you weren't really sure. Bradley brought your hand up to his mouth and kissed your fingers. You sighed against the sensation of his mustache on your body. You wanted to keep this feeling alive. This little glimmer of hope. But you muttered, "It's late. Go to sleep," as you withdrew your hand and rolled onto your side.

He was silent for so long, you weren't sure if he was still awake. Finally he said, "I hate leaving you more than I hate anything else. But we'll figure this out. I love you."

But instead of responding, you let him doze. When you both woke up at five to the sound of his alarm blaring, there were several feet of space between your body and his in the king sized bed. You felt like absolute shit. It was hard to breathe as you watched Bradley climb out of bed and head for the bathroom. You knew everything he was going to do: shower, shave around his mustache, apply deodorant. But you didn't want to see it. You went into the kitchen where you had all of the ingredients to make him heart shaped pancakes and strawberries. But you didn't want to make them. 

Instead you made some French press coffee and cried softly. You took a few sips and felt like you were going to throw up. You tried to eat a granola bar, but you gagged. You had forty one minutes until the Admirals would start calling everyone aboard the aircraft carrier. Less than an hour until your husband would be away for two months. But even when he cautiously walked into the kitchen in his uniform with his duffle bag, you still couldn't quite formulate what you wanted to say to him.

Because maybe he was right. Maybe you and he needed to spend some time apart. You hated yourself and your body, so how did you expect him to love you right now? And you resented him for the decisions he was making and the things he was saying to you. It felt like he didn't understand how it feels to be you. And then you laughed darkly, because of course he didn't. And you were doing a shitty job of describing it to him. A horrible job of communicating with him in general.

"Let's go," you said, heading for the front door in the old lounge pants and shirt you'd slept in. You felt disgusting, so you might as well just look disgusting, too. 

But he headed you off, keeping his hand on the doorknob so you couldn't turn it. "I can't go until I know you're listening to what I have to say."

"What?" you snapped, because that was just a lie. He'd be leaving shortly even if you refused to listen or drive him there. That was just a fact. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ruin your night. I didn't mean to hide the test results from you."

"But you did," you whispered harshly. "On both accounts."

"I know," he said solemnly, reaching for you before dropping his hand to his side. "And I'm sick over it. But this doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you or that I'm perfect. And we can keep trying as soon as I get home, okay?"

"If I even feel like it," you sobbed, pushing his hand out of the way and wrenching the door open. "If you even want to. If you can even stay hard for me." 

"Sweetheart!" he called out, running after you as you got into the driver's seat of your car. You'd drop him off in this one instead of the Bronco, just because it would irritate him. 

You were turning the key and shifting into reverse before he even had his door closed. You wanted him gone. Now. You needed the silence of the house without him in it. Keeping your tears at bay was impossible, but at least the drive was quiet. Bradley had his hand over his eyes, and his head was tipped back. You saw the way his Adam's apple worked against his neck as he swallowed hard, but you didn't say anything to ease his mind. If you had to feel bad, then so did he. 

You made it to the docks in just a few minutes, and you were out of the car right away. You saw Bob and Nat on the dock, waving and waiting for the two of you, but you just couldn't go over there. You didn't want to see them or have to explain why the two of you were miserable. 

As you turned to face your husband, you were shaking with tears, and so was he. There was just a foot of space between you, but you hesitated. And it was clear to him that you didn't know what to do. So he just stood there and wiped at his eyes, shaking his head.

"This is not how I wanted to leave things between us," he rasped, and you looked down at the ground. He was the one who kept telling you he wanted to talk, but you kept shutting him out. 

When you opened your mouth to try to tell him that you still loved him, he held up his hand to stop you.

"You deserved more than what I gave you, okay?" he whispered, and your tears just came faster. "You deserved the world, and clearly I wasn't delivering on all of my promises. At the end of the day, if I'm the one responsible for all of your tears, then what fucking good am I as your husband?"

"Bradley," you croaked, sucking in a deep breath. 

But he just kept going, even though whistles were blowing and his squadron was being called. "I love you so much. I'm always going to. And I'm sorry I'm leaving you like this. I should have tried harder, because you are everything."

Your heart was breaking as he wrapped one big hand around the back of your neck and kissed your forehead. You tried to say his name again, but nothing would come out except a wretched sounding sob. So you reached for him and kissed his lips softly. But then he was pulling away, and you felt bile in your throat. 

"I love you." Your voice was so soft and broken, you weren't sure if he heard you. As he joined Nat and Bob, you cried next to your car, overwhelmed by the feeling of finality. You stayed until he boarded the carrier, but then you climbed behind the steering wheel again. You needed to go to work. You needed to go home and change first. When you tried to start the engine, your fingers fumbled the keys. After three tries you screamed and pounded on the steering wheel with your fists. 

Your heart was broken, and now you had nothing to show for it except some bruised hands. But as you finally got the car started and headed home, you thought to yourself that at least your day couldn't get worse. 

That was just wishful thinking on your part. As soon as you walked inside your bedroom with the intention of taking a hot shower, your eyes caught on something gold on Bradley's nightstand. He had left his wedding band. He never took it off. You couldn't recall a single time he had removed it since you slipped it on his finger last November. 

It was cold to the touch when you picked it up. It was supposed to feel warm from being on his finger. You wanted to call him and demand an answer as to why he was going away on a deployment without his wedding band, but you were too scared to hear the answer. And as his words came flooding back, you climbed into bed with the ring held tight in your sore fist. 

You deserved more than what I gave you.

Bradley deserved more, too.

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

Well. Now they are both on their own for two months. And I hurt my own feelings. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 10

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