#everyone already knows and understands that they were married at one point and if it gets offhandedly mentioned later on no one would bat

[designernishiki]

probably for the best that kiryu was asleep/passed out/??? for the whole majima/park/katsuya conversation in new serena cause I think at that point he’d have an aneurism if one more thing fucked him up emotionally

[aizenat]

There is this girl I went to hs with and the nicest way I can say this is this girl was smart but not particularly so, and had a high sense of self despite being remarkably average. Again, that's the nicest way I can say that. She also got very triggered whenever I was better at her than something (in all fairness, she was like that with anyone better than her, but my friend caught her shit talking me once when I was the only person in my English class to get an A on my Catcher in the Rye essay--something I expected simply because I'm a writer, was then, and I never once got anything less than A on an essay my entire hs career--and that pissed me off particularly because my writing is the ONE thing in this world I can truly say I do better than most people).

Anyway, I learned a while ago that she moved to Boston, and she was associated with Harvard in some way. Without getting too into it, she works there in the weirdest and most random department (not as a professor or anything meaningful or prestigious, which will make sense in a second), doing basically admin shit it seems. I was curious because she's still listed on their site and it says she's been there for like eleven years. I was wondering if she ended up going there as a student in something, but without a linkden or something, I couldn't see. But every time I googled her name and the school, the only thing that came up was her staffing position. No information to indicate she was a student.

Which is funny. I looked up to see if you can go to Harvard for free if you work there, and the do have a reimbursement program, but you'd only get like 75% of fees back, so you'd still have to come out of pocket. And this is an IVY, so that's going to be pretty. And considering what she does, I can't imagine it paying that much where she could easily afford it. Maybe she does take classes and is slowly working her way to some kinda degree, but I doubt it. I feel like she'd at least be able to brag by now given how long she's been there (the site fucking says when she started lol).

Either way, the reason this is funny to me is because she was never even close or talented or impressive enough to anyone let alone college admissions to get into a school like Harvard (I know for a fact she didn't get in in hs lol), and transferring into schools is typically easier, she didn't get her degrees from there according to the site. So I just lowkey find it funny because the closest she'd ever get to Harvard is not as a student or even as someone brought in to teach, but by getting some admin job and sticking around long enough to get her picture on the school's site. She looks so proud in her Harvard shirt, thinking she finally "made it" but never in a way that would actually impress everyone.

It just all feels very fitting for her. In the right spaces to be around more impressive people while being overwhelmingly mediocre her own damn self lol.

[starlightkyeom]

lost in the west | kmg

(where your best friend pretends to be your boyfriend for the holidays so you can avoid more nagging from your mother. except your whole family thought you were already dating)

pairing: mingyu x f!reader genre: fake dating (kind of), friends to lovers, holiday!au | fluff, smut, romance rating: explicit, minors do not interact word count: 18.1k warnings: eating, drinking, mentions of christmas and holiday celebrations, reference to mingyu being afraid of heights, some minor family dynamic issues, so much kissing, fingering, big dick!mingyu, sex (just plain old missionary), i think that's it

author's note: thank you to the amazing @camandemstudios studios for hosting the winter with you collab! it's been so fun to be part of (even if i forgot for a second that i had to include sunrise sledding, but we're ignoring that). i'm sorry this is a little late as a holiday fic but sometimes life happens and inspiration just doesn't want to strike. i'm not even going to say it's longer than i intended because that's just my brand atp. this is largely unedited.

author's note 2: i think there's going to be an epilogue but idk when that will be possible

tag list: @vitaminkyeom, @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizon, @klecksstorys, @gyuminusone, @aaniag, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @haolistic, @vanishingboots, @babybae-shisui, @harry-the-pottypus, @pyeonghongrie, @nuttywastelandmentality, @writingbarnes, @tomodachiii, @gyuhao365, @jjin-kun, @divinityyy, @dibidibidismynameisleeknow, @tinkerbell460, @aidanjoon, @cookiearmy, @kaepjjangiya (join my taglist here)

“You’re bringing your boyfriend back with you, aren’t you?” your mom asks, which makes you look sharply toward the phone. It’s on speaker because you’re in the middle of folding laundry. Your best friend also looks over towards your phone with a grimace, which makes you wish it wasn’t on speaker.

The thing is…you haven’t told your mom that your ex and you broke up about two months ago. Didn’t want to deal with all the sighing and interrogation while you’re rushing to finish end of the year deadlines at work. Somehow, you know it’ll be your fault. Never mind the fact that he cheated on you in your own apartment. But, that’s another story. Your mother will say something about how you shouldn’t be so picky and everyone makes mistakes. Say that sometimes it’s not your most attractive trait that you’re dedicated to your job. Say that you’re not getting any younger and remind you how many of your friends from school are already married or even having kids of their own. That’s one reminder you don’t really need. You see it every time you aimlessly scroll through your feed. Or when you open the mail and see another wedding invitation. 

You sigh. “Well, actually…” 

“Oh, don’t tell me,” your mother says with her own sigh. “You broke it off with this one, too?” 

“I’m not going to get into it with you,” you say, gentle but firm. 

“I don’t understand what could have made you break it off. You said he was like your best friend,” she reminds you. 

This earns an eye roll from one of your actual best friends, Mingyu. He takes over folding your clothes for you as something to do and as a way to speed up the whole process. 

“Well, he’s not and I don’t see any reality where I will forgive him for what he did to me. So, let’s move on,” you say. 

“Maybe that’s okay. You know, one of my friends has a son who’s single and I could just…” she starts.

“No, absolutely not,” you say. This causes Mingyu to stifle his laughter with a hand.

“I don’t understand what the harm in meeting him is. He seems very nice and you’re not exactly getting any younger,” she says. 

There it is. The conversation always somehow ends up at the same point. You’re not getting any younger. All your parents’ friends have been planning weddings and getting grandchildren. They all seem to understand the importance of building a family. Why do you have to be so focused on what’s wrong with every person you date? Why are you too wrapped up in work? Your parents constantly remind you how you seem too wrapped up in the city life to realize what you’re missing.

“I just don’t think…” you start but then trail off when Mingyu starts waving at you to get your attention. He’s pointing at himself and mouthing something you can’t understand.

“I know you don’t think, but just…” your mom starts and you mute yourself so you can figure out what your best friend wants.

“What, Mingyu?” you ask, sharper than you intend.

“Take me back with you for the holidays,” he says. 

“What?” you ask.

“Take me…” he starts.

“No, I heard you. What are you on about?” you ask. 

“You can just feed your mom some line. Tell her you and I just started dating. It doesn’t matter. Anything to just get her off your case,” he says.

“I’m not…what is wrong with you? I’m not going to just fake date you like some weird holiday movie,” you argue.

“Okay, first of all, rude. Those movies aren’t weird, they’re great. And second of all, what do you have to lose?  Your mom loves me and she’ll be thrilled to see me. I already know everyone that’ll be at the parties and dinners. My parents are out of the country visiting my sister and her new boyfriend for the holidays, so I was only going to my cousin’s as kind of a pity invite. It can’t possibly fail,” he says.

“There are a lot of ways it could fail, actually,” you point out.

“Wow, are you going to leave me stranded for the holidays? I’m already rethinking this relationship,” Mingyu says through a pout. “My own partner doesn’t even want to spend the holidays with me. Are you embarrassed to bring me around your family?”

“So what do you say?” comes your mom’s voice. You had been blocking it out while talking to Mingyu, yet it still catches your attention.

You quickly unmute yourself and look away from Mingyu. “I…actually can’t, Mom. I’m sort of seeing someone different, but it’s new so I wasn’t going to mention…” 

“Oh, you already found someone new, that’s wonderful!” she exclaims. 

You don’t have to look at Mingyu to know that he’s wearing a grin that’s entirely too satisfied. Even if he’s mostly kidding about being abandoned for Christmas, you know that it’s been bugging him that his parents decided to go abroad. You also know that he wouldn’t ever dream of inviting himself to tag long even if that’s what he wanted to do. He actually likes your family, sometimes more than you do. 

“I’ll have to ask him if he’s willing to come with me, but…” you try to say before your mother cuts you off again.

“Tell him it simply wouldn’t be the holidays without him. I can’t wait to meet him. Oh, I’m going to tell your father. We may manage to get you married after all,” she says in seemingly one breath.

“I still haven’t…” you try again without any luck.

“I can’t wait to see you both! Love you!” she says. 

“Love y-...” you say, but she’s already ended the call. 

“I guess I have holiday plans after all,” Mingyu says and you fight the urge to throw a pillow at him.

“This is a terrible idea. I can’t pretend we’re dating,” you say and crinkle your nose.

“Oh, wow, have I offended your high standards?” he asks. “Should I remind you of your last two relationships?”

You do throw the pillow at him this time. 

Despite all the questions from your parents about just who is coming home with you for the holidays, you insist that it needs to be a surprise. You definitely think that your parents will be surprised when they see Mingyu on their doorstep. Even though you only met Mingyu in college, the two of you have been nearly inseparable since then. He’s come with you to countless family events to keep you company, especially between other relationships. Your parents buy him Christmas presents every year and insist on video chatting with both of you on his birthdays. Your younger cousins ask when he’s going to be coming around again because they look up to him, both literally and figuratively. It’s kind of annoying sometimes because you wonder if they like him more than their own family member. But, you reason it away with them liking him for the same reasons that you do. He’s just so easy to be around, though they get more of his polite company attitude than you do. Around you, he’s much more relaxed and somehow more prone to pouting to get his way. 

More unfortunately, the pout always seems to work on you. You pretend to be annoyed with it (well, it’s not always pretending, actually), but you give in every time. Which is fine when it’s just the two of you. It’s less fine when other friends are around because they all have smug looks. Convinced that you and him are end game and neither of you realizes yet. The worst, though, is when he slips into the pout mode around your family and you have to deal with the looks from your family members. It’s all worth it to have someone to act as a buffer, even if you’ll never tell him as much. 

Before you get to that point of seeing your parents, you figure that you should stop by to see your childhood best friend first. Of course, he already knows the whole story with Mingyu and doesn’t seem entirely surprised. After all, he’s also known your mom nearly his whole life. Somehow you went from kids forced together when the parents hung out to adults that actually still genuinely love each other, which means he knows Mingyu well too. In his role as best friend, your current situation will not spare you from his teasing. That’s a role he’s happily embraced all your lives. 

The smirk on his face is present as soon as he sees you and Mingyu walk into the coffee shop. Mingyu hasn’t even spotted him while he unwinds his scarf and heads to the counter to order drinks. You say you’re going over to sit with your friend and only then does Mingyu notice you’re not the first ones here. 

“Hey Kwan, you good on your drink?” he calls.

“Yeah, thanks,” he calls back before his eyes turn on you like he’s got a secret. 

You make your way over to his table and try not to react to the look he’s giving you. Typical Seungkwan looking like he’s about to burst with the latest gossip. Even when he knows exactly why you have Mingyu with you and even said, over text, he gets why you agreed. Ugh. You know better than to think he’ll let you live for even a second. Sometimes you think you need better friends.

“Has he gotten taller?” Seungkwan asks, casting his eyes over at your other friend. 

“No, but for real,” you say with a laugh. “I swear, I see him constantly and I still feel like he’s getting taller.”

“Constantly, huh?” Seungkwan asks, raising an eyebrow.

“We’re best friends,” you say with a sigh.

“And what am I?” he asks. 

“Also my best friend. There’s no rule on having only one,” you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time. 

“Are you nervous to head back to your parents’ house?” he asks, entirely switching approaches. 

It’s not your first rodeo, though. “Why should I be? They like Mingyu, at least, so there won’t be any of the awkwardness beyond explaining that we’re dating now.” 

“Which probably isn’t going to come as a surprise to them,” Seungkwan says. 

“I mean, why wouldn’t it be a surprise?” you ask before you clock the look on his face. “Oh, don’t tell me this is more of that bullshit about how often I bring him around. You know my family is insufferable if I have to deal with them alone.” 

“No, I just know for a fact that they’ve wondered if you were dating him before,” Seungkwan says as Mingyu finally joins you with two coffees in hand.

“That would mean she would need to have good enough taste to date someone as great as me,” he says when he sets your coffee in front of you.

“I’m so torn,” Seungkwan admits. “I could insult her taste in relationships, which, love you babe, but really? Or I could insult you as not really being any better than anyone she’s dated.”

“That one gets us both, though?” you point out, only a little offended.

“Option two it is,” Seungkwan agrees. 

“Okay, enough of that. Fill me in on everything before I have to walk into the lion’s den,” you say. 

It’s always the same when you catch up with Seungkwan. He’s thriving even though he chose not to leave the area where you grew up. It’s not that big of an area, but he’s found opportunities. You just found those opportunities a little further away. Just far enough away that your mother can’t easily pop by unannounced. That lead time before she shows up is usually enough that you can mentally prepare. 

Seungkwan, for his part, really does brighten up the entire space, when he’s not being a demon. He’s got that kind of shine that can’t even be dulled by staying in the same general area as his family. He’s also better at setting boundaries, which he gently reminds you again. He doesn’t need the space and preparation time of his family showing up at his place unannounced because they all know that’s not allowed. It’s not that you’re a pushover, it’s just that it feels different. Even your parents seem to respect Seungkwan more than you at times. You try not to let the cynicism of being a woman seep into those feelings. But, it’s hard. Harder still when Seungkwan gives you the sympathetic look like he wants to agree and knows it won’t really help anything. He’s always been that special brand of ally. The one that actually does want to help and understands the inherent privilege.

Unfortunately, Seungkwan and his family won’t be coming to the events that your parents have planned for the next week, though they’re always invited. They wanted to do something more focused on their family instead. It probably seems like something over the top to anyone on the outside. To you, it just seems normal. This is how your parents always handle the holidays and most events seem to take place at their house. 

All too soon, Seungkwan says that he needs to get back to something and reminds you that you can’t put off going home any longer. You’re already getting dangerously close to what your mother considers late. It’s probably not the best idea to test her patience before the week even starts. 

Mingyu takes care of getting you over to your parents house. Maybe fake dating him for a week won’t be so bad when he takes care of driving without asking and doesn’t even need an address. Since he also already knows your entire family, he doesn’t need help with getting gifts to bring with him. That includes both something to give them when you get there as well as actual Christmas gifts. You remember telling him that wasn’t necessary and remember the look of horror on his face when he asked what kind of fake boyfriend he would be if he forgot. Despite the weirdness of the situation, you also find yourself far more at peace than the last time you brought an actual partner home like this. Mingyu has seen you through a lot of ups and downs. Knows when to be serious and when to crack a little joke to break the tension, even if it’s something only for your ears. 

That all disappears as soon as your mother greets you at the door with a look of genuine surprise on her face. 

“Surprise,” you say. It seems a little redundant because she seems shocked. “You, uh, you remember Mingyu, right?” 

“Of course, of course, come in out of the cold,” she says, recovering quickly as she steps out of the way. “Let me get your coats.”

“I know this is probably a bit of a surprise,” you start.

“It definitely is,” she agrees as she takes Mingyu’s and your coats. “Your father is just in the family room.”

“I figured it would be a good surprise,” you offer as you start to follow her into the house. 

“No, of course it is. We adore Mingyu, you know that,” she says with a soft smile for Mingyu. She’s always loved him. “We just, well, we thought you and him had broken up…”

“Broken…what?” you ask, your own shock now matching your mother’s as you come to a complete halt. 

Mingyu seems to just stay quiet through this entire exchange. You’re wondering why until you look over at him to see that he’s barely containing his laughter. Of course he would find this whole thing funny. Maybe he believes Seungkwan that your parents have wondered if you were dating him. Or maybe he’s just quicker on the uptake. Whatever it, it would be annoying if your brain wasn’t working overtime to try and catch up.

“Yes, you said you’d broken up with a boyfriend. Your father and I realized we hadn’t actually met the last person you dated and we just assumed, since you only mention Mingyu. Well, you said he was like your best friend and we knew it wasn’t Seungkwan. Mingyu only made sense,,” your mother says with a shrug. 

“Mingyu! What are you doing here?” your father asks, rising from his seat to shake your best friend’s hand. 

“Dating our daughter, apparently,” your mother says with a skeptical look. 

“Oh, good! I’m glad you kids worked it out,” he says. 

“Did…everyone just think I was dating…?” you start to ask, looking confusedly between your parents. “Mom, Dad, I was not dating Mingyu. We were only…”

“Friends?” your mother supplies through her heavy tone of disbelief. 

“Yes,” you say, eyes wide and desperate looking to Mingyu for support.

“We really were just friends,” Mingyu says. “I mean, I guess not just friends. But, seeing her go through another heartbreak just made me realize that I didn’t want to see her go through something like that again. I guess it just made me realize how much I do care about her. So, I finally said something.” 

There’s a lot that you can count on Mingyu for. Driving, having an endless supply of oversized hoodies to steal, a stocked kitchen, the best meals of your life, 2 am chats, support through break ups, hating the same people, being scared of his own shadow, a perpetual golden retriever energy, endless loyalty, and the list goes on. Something you never expect to count on Mingyu for, though? The lie that spills so easily from his lips to try and get your parents off your case. Sure, he knows just how much you struggle with your relationship with them. This is different, though. The lie sounds so sincere and his face looks so soft when he glances over at you. 

“You know, it’s okay if you just got back together,” your mother says, looking between the two of you. 

“Oh my god, that’s not what happened!” you say, throwing your hands up. 

“Of course, dear, of course,” your father says. 

“I should go take our suitcases upstairs. Am I just in the normal guest room?” he asks. 

It’s both a deflection from the conversation and a valid question all rolled into one. Whatever the case, it does work for long enough to have your mother refocus her attention on Mingyu to answer. That gives you at least a second to catch your breath. Bringing Mingyu was supposed to give you a break from your parents. And it will, you think, but it’s also bringing up a lot that you hadn’t planned on. You wonder what Seungkwan will say when you tell him about the reception. Probably that he told you so.

“Oh, no dear. We planned to have you stay in our daughter’s old room with her,” your mother says.

Great. Now you’re in an entirely new spiral because, what? She has you and Mingyu staying in the same room where there is only one bed? You can’t remember the last time she was this relaxed with a partner you brought home, which brings up even more questions. Has this really been the plan? Or is only the plan now because of how much they like him? Is this just another way for them to try and nudge you into marriage?

“But, mom…” you start to protest.

“We’ve got a full house with family, dear,” she says as an explanation. 

“I know where it is, I’ll just take the stuff up,” Mingyu offers.

“I can help,” you say as a way to get out of this whole thing and to talk to your friend.

“Pretty sure I’m strong enough to get some luggage upstairs,” he jokes and you roll your eyes.

“Why don’t you go up with him anyway? Then you can freshen up before dinner,” your mother says with a poorly disguised look at your slightly wrinkled clothing. 

Mingyu insists on carrying the bigger suitcases upstairs on his own, but you grab the smaller bags you had in the car with you. Well, except for his backpack that he also stubbornly carries. You don’t need a personal demonstration, you already know that he’s strong. You also don’t need to hear your mother talking about how nice it is to have such a polite young man around like he hasn’t been around a million times before. Once you’re inside the room and behind a closed door, you round on your friend.

“What the hell was that?” you ask.

“Your mom actually letting you and a boyfriend stay in the same room? I don’t know. It’s crazy, right?” he asks.

“Not that, what was with you?” you ask. 

“What do you mean?” he returns, looking up from his suitcase where he had been getting ready to unpack. 

“That whole answer you gave my mom,” you say and he looks almost pitying.

“I have to make it believable, don’t I?” he asks like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “Otherwise, she won’t buy it and she’s going to try to set you up.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you concede. 

“Kind of wild that they thought we’d been dating, though,” he adds on.

“Yeah, what was that?” you ask with more force than you mean. 

He only shrugs. “I don’t know, they’re your parents.” 

“Seungkwan said the same thing,” you remind him. 

“About people thinking we’re dating?” he asks, eyes back on his suitcase.

“Yeah,” you say.

He only chuckles before he looks up. “Come on, that’s not the first time either. How many of our friends have thought the same thing?”

“They’re just fucking with us,” you disagree.

“And my ex?” he asks with a raised eyebrow. 

“Okay, well in my defense, she was insane. The whole idea that people of the opposite sex can’t be friends is an insane take,” you say.

“Yeah, I’m not exactly upset to be rid of her,” he agrees.

“Come on. We better hurry up and get back downstairs,” you say.

The rest of the day is somehow just as weird, but also comforting. As the rest of the family starts arriving, either to stay or just for dinner, you find out that most of your family thinks you’ve been dating Mingyu. Or that it was him that you broke up with and are now back together with. It’s hard to tell if it’s something coming from your parents or just a general vibe that the two of you give off. You can at least acknowledge that you didn’t talk about your last relationship much with your family. Hindsight is always clearer, but you still think you knew something was off in that relationship the whole time. Knew that he wasn’t destined to go the distance. Maybe that’s why the break up didn’t hurt that bad. Honestly, the worst part was thinking of facing your family alone for Christmas.

Mingyu saves you from that as he’s saved you countless times before. 

That brings you to the more comforting part of the evening. You can’t tell if any of your family members actually buy that this is a new relationship. At least, none of them seem to think it’s fake. You can probably put up with it if they just think you’re lying about when you actually got together. That makes it all feel much easier. Then, there’s the fact that your entire family loves Mingyu. It’s the first time you can remember joining the dinner to kick off the family Christmas festivities in years. Your family takes the holidays very seriously and it’s Mingyu’s first time experiencing it like this. Yet, he slots right in with everything. 

It also feels like he’s thought through this whole fake relationship in ways you didn’t. Sure, you talked about some of the ins and outs since this isn’t just a quick overnight trip. But, mostly, you just decide it’s easiest to keep it as close to the truth as possible. The friendship is so deep that there’s genuine love there. You don’t have to fake that. What you did not consider is physical affection. You’re not the kind of person that drapes yourself all over a partner, never have been. There’s a moment where you worry, as you watch your cousin and her fiancé, that you and Mingyu could be found out for not showing enough affection. 

A few minutes later, you’re wishing he would be less affectionate. And you’re not even sure why you worried. The first thing you really learned about Mingyu was that he was incredibly physically affectionate. Tight hugs, random hand holding, an arm around your shoulder, a hand on your arm or leg. It’s all just par for the course with him. It’s gotten even more obvious now that he’s pretending to date you. It seems so innocuous, too. He’s got his hand on your thigh, giving the occasional squeeze, while he’s talking to someone else. He randomly plants a kiss on your temple. He leans over to whisper something to you on the pretense of being close and usually it’s nothing. You don’t even realize that it has most of your family giving each other knowing looks. Like they’re still not convinced you hadn’t been dating before. 

By the time it’s late enough to go upstairs, you’re more than ready to have time away from your family. Every time you think that you’re social, your family is there to humble you. Or maybe it’s just that being around them is too draining. In any case, you and Mingyu head upstairs together. Thankfully, your parents house is big enough that it feels like there’s a little bit of privacy in your old bedroom. 

“So, how’s this going to work?” Mingyu asks, glancing at the bed and then into the attached bathroom. 

Okay, so maybe, even with how big the house is, you haven’t fully considered everything. You’re not really sure what to do. It shouldn’t be weird. You and Mingyu have shared a bed before. This just somehow feels intimate when your entire family thinks you’re sharing because you’re in a relationship and don’t know this is all pretend so you can have a little bit of peace for the holidays. Your gift to yourself. Shaking it all off, you turn to Mingyu.

“I mean, we’ve shared before. It’ll be fine,” you say. 

“So are we not gonna talk about the last time we shared?” he asks with an eyebrow raised.

Racking your brain, you can’t really think of anything that would make him say that. Had something awkward happened? Did one of you do something that you should really remember? Just as you’re about to go into a full blown spiral, you feel Mingyu appear before you. He reaches out to smooth out the line between your eyebrows.

“Don’t hurt yourself there,” he says with a laugh. “You whined about me taking up too much space.” 

“Oh my god,” you say and swat at him. “It was a tiny bed and you took up the entire thing! You can’t do this to me when I’m already wound tight over my family.” 

“Sorry,” he says and throws up his hands. The sparkle in his eyes says that he’s anything but. 

“I’m going to change and then start my skincare routine,” you say as you move to grab something to wear to bed. 

Without even asking if you’re dressed, Mingyu comes into the bathroom to start doing his own skincare routine while you’re in there. He’s already changed into a t-shirt and shorts, which you know is more than he normally wears to bed. It’s somehow peaceful to go through your routines in silence like this. You consider that it might be in part because it forces him to be quiet. Not that you usually mind his chatter, it’s just that your brain is already tired from one night dealing with your family. You can’t imagine how the rest of the days are going to go and are thankful for the downtime when you’ll be able to get out of the house to do things. 

Once you’re back in the bedroom, you both finish off all the little things you need to do. You plug in your phone after checking for any important notifications, grab the TV remote to fling it over to Mingyu, and slide under the covers. Usually you just kind of scroll before going to sleep or sometimes you’ll read. But, you think it might be weird to do those things when you’re sharing a bed with someone else.

“Do I need to make a pillow wall or something?” he asks as he’s flipping through to find something to watch.

Your head whips to the side to look at him. Even though it’s only his profile, you can see that he’s smirking. Purposefully not looking at you because he knows it’ll break the little composure he has. To deal with that, you whack him with a pillow. 

“Just don’t drape your entire body over me,” you say.

“Why?” he asks and does turn to look at you now, wiggling his eyebrows. “Afraid it’ll be too close?”

“No, you fucking goober, you’re just heavy,” you say through a genuine laugh.

“How is this relationship ever going to work if we’re calling each other names?” he says, pretending to be heartbroken. 

“Same way it has for like 8 years,” you joke back with a soft smile. 

“Are you saying you love me?” he asks, hand on his heart. This is one of your favorite things about your friendship with Mingyu because he’s so dramatic that it takes your mind off everything else.

“I don’t know, I’m rethinking it,” you say and turn back to the TV. 

“I love you too, you know,” he says, voice soft enough to make you turn back to him.

“I know, Gyu. I don’t think anyone else would put themselves through this for me, so thank you,” you say honestly. 

He just shrugs and goes back to a lighter place. “Well, I didn’t have good holiday plans and who can say no to this level of entertainment?” 

The next day actually gives you time to catch up with some of your family members more personally instead of everything being such big conversations. That’s especially true for your cousin, Mimi, who’s only two years younger than you and has always been your favorite of your cousins. Even if you go months without seeing each other, it always feels like no time passes. There’s just a level of closeness and understanding between the two of you. You can complain about your mothers since they’re sisters and honestly the same person, just in a different font. It’s easy to be on the same page about things as well. 

You’re actually a little surprised to see that she’s here alone, even though you know she recently got out of a bad relationship. Somehow, it seems her mom is more understanding than your own. She was also much more honest about how the relationship fell apart after 3 years and her mom is sympathetic about it. When she says it like that, you understand. Your last few relationships have all been measured in months rather than years. 

“You’re not, like, actually dating Mingyu though, are you?” she asks quietly when it’s just the two of you.

“Mimi,” you hiss and look around.

“We’re alone,” she assures you with a wave of her hand. “So, spill.”

“No,” you say hesitantly. “Why?”

“I’m just curious,” she says unconvincingly. 

“He was with me when my mom was bugging me about the holidays and bringing someone with me. Then she was going to set me up, so he just offered…” you start.

“He was the one who suggested it?” she asks, far more curious than she should be. 

“Yeah,” you say simply. “Again, why?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ve just always thought he was cute and I was wondering if he’s actually single.” 

“You cannot hit on Mingyu,” you whisper through gritted teeth. She gives you a look you can’t place before brushing it off.

“Oh, I’m not saying I would. It’s just good to know I could,” she says.

“You can’t,” you remind her. “Everyone thinks we’re dating.” 

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t do it anywhere anyone else could see,” she teases. 

Of course, another of our cousins picks that moment to join you, so you can’t further chastise Mimi. It irritates you all the same though. How does she think it’s just fine to do something like that when you’re supposed to be in a fake relationship? Could she not just wait to hit on him until the rest of your family wasn’t watching with too much attention? 

Normally, Mimi is a respite from the rest of your family. She’s one of the few people that you’re always completely honest with. Now, she’s taken that away. You try to go about the rest of the day with her knowing that the relationship is fake and she seems like she’s trying her best to get under your skin. Every part of you wants to stop her from chatting so much to Mingyu and you can’t. It would seem weird when everyone knows that you and your cousin are close. Weirder still when she always knows Mingyu relatively well from every other time he’s been to some family event. 

When you excuse yourself up to your bedroom for a second away from your parents and their incessant hint dropping, Mingyu slips into the room just after you. Which is odd, considering you had not even seen him also slip away. The second odd thing comes when you look at his face. He looks more serious than usual, more tired. It doesn’t fully make sense because he’s incredibly social. Loves to be around people in the way all true extroverts do. Something must be wrong.

“Can I talk to you?” he asks after closing the door.

“You don’t ever have to ask,” you say with clear apprehension. 

“Did you tell Mimi we weren’t actually dating?” he asks, still looking at you in a way you can’t place.

You exhale, thinking it’ll be nothing. “Oh, that, yeah. I’m sorry I didn’t mention it to you, I just…”

“Did you also tell her that I’m very single and she should go ahead and shoot her shot?” he asks and you stop short hearing that.

“I - what?” you ask.

“She just kind of cornered me and was laying it on super thick, but she said it was fine because she knows we’re not really dating and that you’d encouraged her to…” he starts and you immediately cut him off.

“What the actual fuck, Mimi?” you say in frustration. 

“I mean, if you want me to…” he tries to start again, looking a little like a lost or kicked puppy. It makes you immediately close the space between you and him. 

“Gyu, no. I did tell her that we weren’t actually dating, but I absolutely did not tell her it was okay to do any of that, let alone encourage it,” you say. 

“So you don’t want me to flirt back?” he asks. He’s still looking Too Serious when he says it and you’re not really sure how to feel.

“Since we’re supposed to be dating, I’d prefer you didn’t. But, if you think she’s pretty it’s not like I can stop you,” you say noncommittally. 

“Of course I think she’s pretty. You and your whole family are pretty. It’s like something in a TV show or some shit,” he says and this is a Mingyu you recognize because he’s rolling his eyes. 

“Oh yeah, says the guy who looks like that,” you say and vaguely gesture at him.

“I…did you just compliment me?” he asks, totally off track from wherever he was going.

“That depends, did you compliment me first?” you deflect. 

“You’re such a shithead,” he grumbles and you tsk at him.

“Now, now sweetheart, should we really be name calling?” you tease.

He fixes you with his attempt at an unimpressed stare, but he’s nowhere near as good at it as you are. Like every other time, he relents first. “I’ve probably told you how beautiful you are hundreds of times in our friendship.” 

“Which I’ve always returned,” you lie.

“Be so for real. I have to pull most compliments out of you,” he says through a snort. When you open your mouth to protest, he cuts you off. “Most compliments that are not about my cooking, I should say.”

“People fall all over you,” you say with a good natured eye roll of your own. “Do you really need to hear me also say you could easily be a model?”

“Doesn’t hurt,” he mumbles through a pout.

“Oh, beautiful Mingyu,” you start, taking on the silliest voice you can muster. “You’re so pretty that I could cry. Your face breaks hearts every day, your smile lights up the room, your hair…”

“Okay, okay, enough,” he says even though he looks pleased.

“I cannot believe Mimi, though,” you say.

“I’m glad you’re not trying to push us together,” he admits.

“Why? Not interested?” you tease.

He answers seriously, though. “No. She’s pretty, sure, but no, I’m definitely not interested, even if I wasn’t pretending to date you.” 

That honest answer strikes something in you. Not that honesty is unusual between the two of you. It just feels like there’s also an element of vulnerability in the response as well. Like he’s saying something that you just can’t quite decipher. You just brush aside for now, though, since there’s nothing else you really can do. 

Mingyu, as it turns out, has one winter time tradition that he’s always wanted to try and never had the chance to do: sledding. He’s never lived in any place where it’s snowy enough or there’s enough free space. But, up here in the relative mountains where your parents live, sledding is a way of life. It’s something you’ve done countless times growing up with friends or family. Part of you is even a little thankful that he wants to do it, too. It’s been years since you’ve gone sledding and getting to see his face when you go for the first time feels special. Feels like something that’s just for you. 

Which is why you’re up before the sun. 

Last night, when you talked about sledding and getting an early start, Mingyu was on board. Now that it’s time to actually get up, you can see it written all over his face that he’s regretting every decision that’s ever led him to this moment. Like the true best friend that he is, though, he’s keeping the actual grumbling to a minimum. You’re not sure why you’re not also grumbling. You’re not a morning person. But, you’ve never gone sledding at sunrise either and something about it just seems like it’ll be magical. Like it really will make it an entirely new experience for you and him to share. 

The house is quiet as you grab the bag of snow pants and winter jackets that you packed the night before from the closet in the entryway. Everything feels so peaceful in the house and just as still when you leave. Like even the soft sound of the door is too much while the whole world sleeps. You can hear the slight crunch under your feet as you trudge over to Mingyu’s car and take care not to be too loud getting in. Thank him again for driving when you know it’s way earlier than he wants to be awake. All he does is smile like there’s nowhere else in the world he would rather be. 

The drive to the hill where you’re going to sled is quick and also tranquil. Even the music is soft like Mingyu is afraid of disrupting the peace. Or maybe you’re both just appreciating something different than the normal bustle of life in a city. It’s never this kind of quiet there and there’s something kind of beautiful about it. Even the parking lot is empty when you get to the small hill that you used to sled down as a kid. You’ve never seen it empty before. Then again, you’ve never been before the sun rose, either. Mingyu takes care to unload the sleds before you both bundle up. It’s not terribly cold, but you make him put on the waterproof gear anyway. 

He stops at the bottom of the hill and looks towards the top. “We’re going all the way up there?” 

You can hear a little bit of nerves in his voice. Mingyu has never been a fan of heights. This isn’t that high, though, and you nudge him playfully. Well, it doesn’t seem high to you. “I think you can manage. Come on.” 

Climbing up to the top is always your least favorite part because it uses the most energy. Not that you mind the activity, it’s just a lot of work for a relatively short ride back down the hill on the sled. At least this hill has stairs built into the slope off to the side to help you. Once you’re at the top, you plop down with Mingyu right beside you. It’s less about catching your breath and more about appreciating the view. It seems like you can see for miles even though you’re not that high up. The sun starts to rise and you know it’s all worth it. All the shades of orange and pink stretch across the horizon as the sun makes its way over the distant mountains. There aren’t any words that come to mind to really capture how beautiful it is. The colors are more vibrant against the white of the snow all around you. Everything feels magnified in the quiet space. All either of you can do is utter out a soft wow to express your awe. 

And then the quiet really is broken.

“Okay you expect me to slide down that on a piece of plastic?” he asks with a hint of panic in his voice. 

You follow his gaze and look down the hill, because it really is only a hill. Not anything crazy. It always looks a little more intimidating from the top, but it isn’t anything all that high. 

“Oh come on you giant baby,” you tease and nudge him. “We got all the way up here, how else are you going to get down?” 

“Walk back down the stairs they so nicely provided?” he offers. 

“That’s crazy,” you say.

“I’m afraid of heights!” he shouts, more panic in his voice. 

“I know, Gyu,” you say, instantly softening as you approach him to put your hand on his arm. 

“I didn’t really think this through,” he admits.

“Why did you agree to sledding down a hill?” you ask, genuinely curious. 

He’s quiet for a moment as he looks out over vista before him. You watch as a calm comes back over him. The kind of calm that can only come from a setting as pretty as this one. Watch him take a couple steadying breaths. Even though you’ve been friends with Mingyu for years, you’ve never really seen his fear of heights firsthand. Couldn’t have imagined it would kick in for something as seemingly innocuous as a small sledding hill. Though, admittedly, it is a pretty decent size. It’s definitely not just the kind of hill people sled down in their backyards or local parks. 

“Because I wanted to try sledding and do something new. And this hill seemed important to you,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m not going to say no to something you ask me to do when you get that look in your eyes.”

“What look?” you ask to avoid considering a deeper meaning to his words.

“I don’t know. You get all starry eyed,” he says with a shrug. 

“How about this? We can go down together and check it off the list. You don’t have to sled again,” you offer. 

“We came all the way out here,” he says, unsure.

“And I got to see the prettiest sunrise of my life with my best friend beside me,” you say easily.

“Okay, okay. I can at least try,” he says.

You get up and send the smaller of the sleds down the hill without anyone on it in case you really only take the one ride. It would be a hassle to have to come back up and get it. Then, you position yourself on the bigger sled that’s meant for two people (or three kids sometimes when you were younger). Once you’re in place, you motion for Mingyu to settle in behind you. Point out where he can put his legs on either side of you, which already feels closer than normal even with how affectionate Mingyu can be. You adjust so that your back is pressed against his chest. It’s about the right balance to the sled so that you’re less likely to topple over on the way down. Mingyu has to crowd into your space to wrap his arms around your middle because he’s bigger than you are, something you hadn’t considered when suggesting this. You can almost tell that he’s considering burying his face in your hair, but stops short.

At least, until you push over the edge with a combination of wiggling and using your hands to push your forward. That’s when he buries his face. Then, you’re slowly picking up speed as you slide down the completely untouched snow. It’s always best like this, in your opinion. Before there are lanes carved into the snow. Yes, those lanes pack the snow down and can make you go faster, but you can also catch an edge and topple over more easily. 

None of that is really on your mind once you start descending though. All you can think of is the way Mingyu’s body feels pressed against yours. How it’s very foreign but also very comforting. How you can understand why your whole family so easily believes that you’re together. The comfort is effortless, something you don’t ever think about. It just exists. You focus on how funny it is to have this giant of a man wrapped around you like a koala with his head buried in your hair now because he’s nervous. You don’t even consider any other way that it might make you feel. When you let out a squeal of delight as the sled picks up more speed, you feel, rather than hear, him grumble by the tickle of his breath in your hair. It only makes him cling more tightly to you. 

It’s almost disappointing when you feel the sled level out at the bottom of the hill and slow down. It’s been the perfect way to relive one of the parts of your childhood that you loved the most. Getting to do silly little things like this really was one of the best parts of winter. You’re fully stopped before you realize that Mingyu is still clinging to you with everything he has. So, you carefully place a hand over his and feel him untense the tiniest bit.

“It’s okay, we made it to the bottom in one piece.” 

Slowly, he loosens his grip on you and actually looks up. Again, you feel this rather than seeing it. You feel the absence of his body heat and only then realize just how tightly he was clinging to you. Mingyu pulls his face out of your hair and seems to look around, as if testing that you’re really at the bottom of the hill. Like he’s not sure it’s over that quickly. 

“That wasn’t so bad.”

“No, it was a lot of fun.” 

“Do you think…could we maybe go again?” 

Both of you are standing up again now and it makes you whip your head around to look at him because you can’t believe this scaredy cat actually wants to go down again after how much it took to get him down the first time. His face is hopeful, though, and you’re not about to start saying no to that face now. Not when you never have before. So you match his smile. 

“On one condition,” you finally say. Mingyu only looks at you like he’s waiting for you to continue. “You have to actually keep your eyes open this time.” 

“You don’t know I had my eyes closed,” he insists with a pout.

“Gyu, your face was in my hair,” you say through a laugh.

“Okay, fine. Eyes open. But, I have my own condition, too,” he fires back, still kind of pouting. 

“Yes?”

“I want to ride together again.” 

It’s easy to agree to that. Even though you don’t say it out loud, it’s kind of fun riding with him, especially when the hill is so untouched. He’s tall and muscular, very helpful when it comes to carving a path and also picking up speed. He adds to the momentum and you like going faster. You don’t consider telling him that he wouldn’t go quite as fast without you because you would be losing on as well. It’s not a bad deal for either of you, really. Mingyu gets to work a little on a fear of heights on something much more manageable and you get to live out your best sled dreams. 

Each run gets a little bit easier. Mingyu holds up his end of the bargain and actually opens his eyes, which is more entertaining to you than it probably should be as he curses all the way down that first run. But, he keeps wanting to go and you’re not going to stop him. Don’t realize that maybe he also keeps going because he loves to see the way your face lights up each run. Neither of you makes an effort to get the other sled again either. 

By the time the sun is fully risen, yours and Mingyu’s cheeks are rosy from the cold. And also from the way you’ve taken to running back up the steps to the top like kids. You have to admit, even if it means he’ll get a big head, this is the most fun you’ve had in your hometown during the holidays in a long time. Honestly, it might actually be the most fun you’ve had anywhere in a while. It’s nice to get back to something simpler without worrying about anything else. Life can get busy back in the city between work and chores and endless responsibility. Sometimes it’s nice to just take a break from it all. Remember that there are more important things than just working all the time or being stressed about things you can’t really control. Maybe there’s something to simplifying life a bit. 

Now that the sun is rising, it’s a more acceptable time for people to be out and about themselves. Kids can convince their parents to take them sledding as well. At the first sign of people approaching, you and Mingyu agree that it should be your last run. You’re starting to get a little tired and you know it’ll get loud. You don’t mind having the kids around, you just know it gets harder to avoid everyone and you have to wait longer between each run. Besides, you planned something post sledding as well. It catches you off guard that he actually seems a little sad to be leaving. 

That is, until you take him to this little hole in the wall of a breakfast place. It’s something new because you’re not usually in this area when he comes with you to family events. Not that it’s far, it’s just a few towns over and there are closer places. Until winter comes around again and the elderly couple that runs the place roll out their secret recipe for hot cocoa. Honestly, you could probably just drink that without even ordering anything to eat and be the happiest person in the world. The food is amazing too, though, and you didn’t eat before leaving to go sledding. You and Mingyu order a few things to share and laugh all the way through it, talking about sledding and the trip so far.

“Thanks for this,” he says as breakfast is winding up.

You’re a little surprised at both his words and the gentleness of his tone. “For what?”

“Taking me sledding like this. That sunrise was amazing and I, well, I guess I didn’t think I’d have as much fun as I did,” he admits, a little more shy than you’re used to.

“I’m glad you trusted me,” you say and can’t quite place the look he gives you.

“I think I’d trust you with just about anything.” 

The day before Christmas is always the same. By then, you’re in desperate need of a break from your family and you think they may be in need of a break from you as well. So, each year you get together with Seungkwan and some of your other friends that still live in the area. Anyone with a partner brings them along and you have a nice, boozy brunch. This year, Seungkwan is hosting because his place is spacious and the group seems a little bigger. It’s also nice to get to really spend some time at his place since he’s only been there a few months. 

Typically, a few people in the friend group will bring over some pre-made things to warm up the next day as well as everyone bringing whatever they want to drink and share. That’s the same for this year with a slight change. Mingyu, once he sees the kitchen, says that he just has to make some food as well. After taking an inventory, he heads back out to buy more things that he needs, ignoring any of your protests and only agreeing to take your card so you can sort out the cost with your friends. (You’re not going to do that because you don’t mind just covering it, but you don’t want him to cover it either.)

When he gets back, he immediately goes into the kitchen and your friend Vernon’s girlfriend offers to help. She drags Seungkwan’s sister, who doesn’t usually come around, with her as well. Mingyu only leaves the kitchen long enough to bring you one of the mimosas that he made, insisting there’s a special ingredient. Then, it’s back to fully focusing on the food. Not that you really mind. It’s nice to just be in a low stress environment with your friends to catch up, have some drinks, and laugh a lot. 

Vernon, after looking around to make sure nobody else is listening, shows you and Seungkwan the ring he’s been walking around with for the past few weeks. Apparently, he’s finally settled that he’s going to propose to his girlfriend tomorrow on Christmas Day. You’re thrilled because they’ve been together forever and she already feels like family. Seungkwan nearly bursts into tears, which you have to quickly cover so nobody realizes what’s happening. You love that your best friend is like that. It’s just not the time if you want to keep it a secret that Vernon wants to propose. 

It also feels nice to be in a group where you don’t have to pretend. Nothing changes all that much for how you and Mingyu are together because he’s always affectionate with you. But, you get to trade any of the not-so-subtle comments about when you’re going to get married to the relentless teasing about how he passes as your boyfriend so easily. It’s nice to have someone joking about it and you find you don’t even mind. Especially when Mingyu chimes in with his own little comments from the kitchen. There seems like there’s a lot of laughter in there as well. 

“You’re going to have to dress him better if he’s going to keep posing as your boyfriend,” Seungkwan jokes and you look over at the kitchen. 

Mingyu is wearing this kind of awful green zip up sweater. It’s not even that nice, soft material. But, he insisted on wearing it because he wanted to wear something with Christmas colors and it was the only thing he had apart from his outfit for tomorrow. It makes you roll your eyes again remembering it.

“I know,” you sigh. “Usually he dresses so well and then there’s that.” 

Your eyes drift back over to him in the kitchen again and you kind of wish you hadn’t looked back. You catch him as something falls off a spoon he’s using to taste test and onto his skin. And, without seeming to think about it, he sucks it off his hand. Then, licks along his finger for good measure. It makes your heart stutter a little in a way that’s completely foreign to you. Why are you so entirely transfixed by someone who’s supposed to be your best friend and fake boyfriend doing that?

“Hey, you good?” Seungkwan asks, snapping in front of your eyes.

You shake your head to clear it before turning back to him. “Yeah, sorry, zoned out for a second.”

“Uh huh,” he says skeptically, but you catch his eyes darting over to Mingyu. 

“Don’t,” you warn him, causing him to throw his hands up in defense. 

“I won’t,” he says. “But, if you decide you want to talk about it…”

“Talk about what?” Mingyu asks. You hadn’t even seen him leave the kitchen. 

“The issue she’s having with Mimi,” Seungkwan lies quickly. 

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “She won’t leave me alone.” 

“And that seems to be driving both of you crazy,” Seungkwan observes. 

“Well, yeah, our bestie is just being a good friend and she knows I’m uncomfortable,” Mingyu says before you can answer. Is that all it is? For the first time, you’re not sure.

“I’m not sure how I feel about sharing a best friend,” Seungkwan says with feigned distaste.

Mingyu tries to give The Look again, but fails even worse than with you. Nobody can outdo Seungkwan and so he gives up. “Food is ready.” 

“Oh good, I’m starving,” Vernon interrupts. 

The rest of brunch goes by without Seungkwan making any other comments. To you, at least. You don’t see him sit down next to Mingyu after the food is done like it’s casual and unplanned. Nothing that man ever does is either of those things, though. What you do notice is how easily he fits into this group of friends. Sure, he knows Seungkwan pretty well and he’s met nearly everyone there. But, he doesn’t get to spend much time around them. Not really, in the grand scheme of things. It isn’t really surprising, if you think about it, because they’re all close friends of yours and he tends to think you have good taste where friends are concerned.

It is a little weird, you think as Mingyu sits on the other side of the room, that he seems to be a little glued to his phone now that things are getting closer to wrapping up. He checks it mid conversation and furrows his brow at whatever he sees. Both seem unusual. Mingyu is always one of those people that gives his full attention to a conversation. Unless it’s an emergency, he likes to be present in a moment. It’s one of your favorite things about him. It’s also unlike him to be so upset by something on his phone. You can’t think of any person that would be creating that reaction from him. Or anyone that he wouldn’t just ignore until later. You try to put it out of your mind as best you can. If it’s something serious, he’ll talk to you about it. At least, you hope. 

Any other time, you would be thrilled to have your favorite cousin staying at your parents’ house for the holidays. She’s always been your confidant and one of your safe spaces. Now? You can’t stand it. You really wish she would be literally anywhere else. Just the sight of her is getting to be enough to set you off. It seems like she’s really taking it to heart that Mingyu is single. You’re not sure what her game is and you hate it. 

Of course, she manages to corner you the second you’re back to your parents’ house. You’re not exactly paying all that much attention, though. The end of brunch with your friends had been a little weird, even if nobody else noticed it. Mingyu accepted all the praise for the things he made, but was distracted by his phone. Someone, you’re not really sure who, kept sending him messages. Whatever it was didn’t seem to be making him happy. Not that you really have any right to ask him who’s blowing up his phone. It’s just a little weird. Usually he’s so present in events like brunch. It’s odd to see him constantly checking his phone. Odder still that he had headed off to the bedroom as soon as you got back. You’re a little buzzed from the mimosas. Mingyu, on the other hand, is very sober.

“There you are,” Mimi says, appearing as if out of thin air. It makes you jump back, hand on your heart.

“Jesus,” you gasp out.

“No, Mimi,” she jokes. Any other time, it would make you laugh. You’re not so entertained with her now. 

“What are you sneaking up on me for?” you ask instead. 

She rolls her eyes and looks around. “I’m not sneaking up on you. I was just trying to catch you away from the others.”

“Why?”

“Why do you have that fake boyfriend of yours on such a tight leash?”

Out of habit, you look around to make sure nobody is listening. Everyone seems too busy, though. “I don’t have Mingyu on a leash.”

“Then explain why he’s basically refusing to answer any of my texts,” she says, arms crossed.

“I don’t know why…wait a minute. Was it you texting him while we were at brunch?” you ask.

This, somehow, seems to satisfy her. “Oh, so he’s not telling you who’s texting him.” 

“I didn’t ask, honestly.”

“Well, I don’t see why he’d be ignoring - “

Your brain catches up then. “Hang on. How the fuck did you get his number?” 

Mimi rolls her eyes again with a huff. “Please. You’ve had the same passcode on your phone for ages. I just grabbed it when you left your phone out.” 

“That’s so fucked, Mimi. You can’t just go through my phone or take his number,” you say. 

“You’re no fun anymore,” she says with a whine.

You’re not interested in hearing anything else she has to say because you just want to talk to Mingyu. This is getting insane that she’s going to this amount of trouble just to try to get to him. Yet, it’s also weird he kept it to himself that she was texting him. The two of you have talked a lot about the shit Mimi pulls in order to get close to him. Why is it different now that she’s texting him while he’s out with your friends? Is he starting to get worn out from dealing with the insanity of your family? Every other time he’s been around, it’s been really chill. This time, not so much. 

Up in your room, you don’t initially see Mingyu. You’re not sure what you’re expecting. Maybe him on his phone texting or else complaining to another friend about how this whole trip is going. Or even talking to his sister about getting out to see her instead of staying here. None of that happens, though. Instead, you find him in the bathroom applying a face mask. It’s a little ridiculous and definitely the last thing you expect. But, you also know that it’s a sign he’s carrying some amount of stress. 

That’s the thing about being as close to someone as you are to Mingyu. To most people, he’s got this unfailing streak of energy and kindness. He’s the kind of person that lets himself be bullied by all his friends even though he could definitely take them. It’s all part of making sure everyone is enjoying themselves and most things just roll off his broad shoulders. There are hidden depths to him, too. Sometimes he gets a little worn out because he’ll keep things to himself instead of burdening someone else. He takes so much onto his own plate and you wish he wouldn’t. At least, not always. He’ll go until it feels a little unbearable and then finally speak up. He’ll force a smile even when he doesn’t feel like it just to make sure nobody else realizes anything is wrong. In a way, he folds in on himself a little. But, you’ve been friends for years so you know his tells. Know how to spot the signs. It takes you a little longer this time surrounded by family and some friends. This is one of those signs, though. Taking the time to do a face mask, even if it’s in the middle of the day, to just give him an excuse to be quiet. 

You’re not usually the one to initiate physical contact with him. Not because you don’t want to, he just never really gives you the chance. He’s like a human koala most of the time. With his back to the door and his eyes closed to enjoy the feeling of the mask, he doesn’t even hear you approach. Your hands wind around his waist, hugging him tightly from the back and your head rests between his shoulder blades. For the briefest moment, he tenses and you worry that he’s using this as a break from you. Then, he realizes it’s just you and his entire body relaxes. He puts his hands over yours and sighs softly. After a moment, it doesn’t seem like it’s enough because he turns in your arms and pulls you tight against his chest, wrapping you so tightly in his own arms that you would complain in any other situation. Not now, though. Not when he’s putting himself through all of this just so you don’t have to have a stressful holiday experience. 

When it’s like this, you don’t dream of pulling away from Mingyu. There’s so much that he does for you and it’s so rare that you can do anything for him in return. So, you’ll stay tightly pressed against him as long as he wants. You won’t be the one to break the hug first. If you can take even a little bit of whatever he’s feeling onto your own shoulders, you will. This trip has been so much better than you could have expected in most ways and you’re determined to be more conscious of his needs. Eventually, he does pull away and let you look up into his face. He looks much more at peace than you expect. Maybe your hugs do have healing powers like he always says. Mingyu turns to remove the face mask and wipe his face before turning back to you.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly into the space between you. 

“For what?” he asks. 

“For the whole drama that is my family,” you start. “Mostly, for Mimi, though.” 

“Ah,” he says and his face falls a little.

“Gyu, I would never have put you in this position if I had known she would be like this,” you say earnestly. 

“I don’t think anyone could have guessed she’d pull all this,” he says with a humorless laugh.

“You should’ve told me that she was texting you and bugging you like that,” you say without any accusation. You just want to be able to share in his burden.

He only shrugs. “We were with your friends and you looked so happy. I didn’t want to bring it down. How did you even find out she was texting me?” 

“She told me,” you say with an eye roll. 

“Really?”

“Well, she cornered me and asked why I had you on such a tight leash…”

“Kinky,” he interrupts and it nearly makes you choke. 

“And then, when I asked how she even got your number, she told me she’d gone into my phone and taken it,” you say to avoid thinking too deeply about Mingyu and any kinks he might have. 

“Bold,” he observes. 

“Do you like that?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

The second the question comes out of your mouth, you wish you could take it back. What is going on with your brain today? First you’re losing your train of thought watching Mingyu lick something off his finger. Then, you’re wondering about his kinks. Now, you’re wondering if he likes someone that’s a little bit bold. It’s got to just be the atmosphere that you’re in. Or that you’re pretending to date him. It’s messing with your mind and you’re not responsible for the way you act. 

The worst part is that Mingyu’s entire face changes. He gets that knowing look on his face when he meets your eyes. A little cocky. The look that says he knows just how attractive he can be. It’s not usually directed at you and you’re not really sure what to do now that it is. 

“Sometimes,” he says. “Not necessarily from someone I’m not actually interested in, though.” 

“Good to know.” 

Mingyu arches an eyebrow and okay, that’s devastating. Maybe you’re still a little under the influence of the mimosas. There’s no other explanation for the way your knees go a little weak at such a simple movement. “Is it?”

“Huh?” you ask, shaking your head to clear it.

“You said it was good to know and I asked if it was,” he repeats, smirk only deepening.

“Oh, sure,” you say and he seems momentarily surprised. “You know, so I can tell Mimi.”

You’re actually not entirely sure what makes you say it. It’s not like you would ever want him to consider Mimi. It might actually drive you crazy if he went for her. He gets that look on his face that you’re all too familiar with. Affection mixed with exasperation. Nobody seems to get it more than you.

“Too bad for her that I’m very much not interested,” he says. 

“Shame. I don’t know how I would get over the loss.”

“Luckily you don’t have to because you’re stuck with me.”

“Until you actually have a crush on someone again.” 

Even though you say it, you want to take it back as soon as it comes out of your mouth. Images come rushing into your mind of Mingyu falling in love with someone that actually lasts. Someone that could take your best friend away from you. Which should be what you want, right? You should want him to be happy. And you do.  You just can’t really stand the thought of a life where he’s happy without you being right there by his side. This trip makes you think about a lot more than you bargained for. 

“I do have a crush,” he says softly.

“Oh, of course,” you say and look away from him. That’s fine. This is all fine.

His finger is under your chin the next second to pull your face back around to his. It’s the look of patience that you also see a lot. Especially when he’s trying to teach you something in the kitchen. Or explain something from work. Or really just talk about anything he’s passionate about. 

“The crush is on you, dummy,” he says softly. 

“What?” you ask, not sure you heard him correctly. 

With a shake of his head, he steps back to lean against the bathroom. “Of all the times I pictured telling you this, I never considered telling you in the bathroom attached to your old bedroom at your parents’ house.” 

“We don’t…” you start and he shakes his head again.

“No, this probably fits,” he says with a light laugh. The kind when he’s just a little caught off guard himself. “I thought I wanted to tell you after brunch with your friends and, I don’t know, I could be misreading the whole thing, but I think you’re ready to hear it now too. I like you. I’ve been more than happy just to be your friend because I didn’t want to say something before we were both ready. I’m happy to be here as your friend that’s only pretending to date you because I’d do anything to make life easier for you.”

“Mingyu,” you say, so low it’s barely above a whisper. Like you’re afraid to break the quiet in the limited space between you. 

“You don’t have to say…” he starts, only to be interrupted by a loud knock at your bedroom door. 

Your senses are entirely overwhelmed and you wonder what he sees as you look up at him, eyes wide in wonder. Before this, you would say that your brain could process too many things all at the same time. That it always had a million things going on. Now, you can’t seem to do any of that. Can’t focus on anything other than your beautiful best friend before you and the fact that apparently he has feelings for you. You see his mouth move, assume it’s to answer the knock, and have to shake yourself back to reality. Need to come out of this day dream so that you can react to whoever is at the door. 

“Too bad, lovebirds, you have to come downstairs. Attendance for games and cookie decorating is mandatory on Christmas Eve,” your cousin calls back. 

“Mimi, just…” you start to call out to her and Mingyu shakes his head.

“We’ll be right down!” he cuts across you. He waits, seeming like he’s listening for the sound of Mimi walking away from the door. How he can hear anything over the pounding of your heart seems unthinkable. Somehow, he must hear something because he turns back to you with soft eyes and speaks in an even softer voice. “It’s okay, we can talk tonight after dinner or when we come to bed. There’s no pressure for you to even say anything. Our friendship is the most important thing in the world to me.” 

With that, he gives you a quick peck on the top of the head. Something that’s immediately gentler than anything you’ve experienced with him during the entire course of your friendship. The smile he gives you as he steps around you to lead the way down to interact with your family has you go weak in the knees. Has he ever smiled at you like that before? Or is it a new smile? Once upon a time, you would have said that you had every facial expression of his memorized from years spent in each other’s company. Years spent sharing private jokes, going on adventures, complaining about work and family and everything in between. But maybe, you think, there are still things that you can learn about Mingyu. Maybe there are still things that you can learn from him as well. 

When you don’t immediately follow after him, Mingyu turns around to grab your hand and pull you along with him. There’s something about the way he threads his fingers through yours and squeezes that makes your heart pound again before settling down. His touch is gentle, like it always is, and filled with complete care. You don’t notice the way he glances back at you every few steps. Not with concern, but with curiosity. He would have bet he knew your every facial expression and can’t fully place the way you look now. Somehow, even though he can’t completely tell what you’re thinking, he knows that he made the right decision. Knows it was time to tell you what’s been on his mind. Knows that, no matter what, he’s still going to have his best friend on the other side of this trip.

It’s chaos once you and Mingyu get downstairs, like it always is at your parents’ house on Christmas Eve. Though, this definitely seems a little busier than years past. You’re not sure why that is either, but everyone seems to want to join in on the traditions that your parents cling to. In any case, it’s a good thing for you because it lets you just blend into the group of people without your parents paying entirely too much attention to you. Mingyu uses your hand intertwined with his to pull you into him, the way he has countless other times on this trip, and presses a kiss to your temple. Then, he’s off into the kitchen, throwing a joke at your mom about how he’s here now and she doesn’t need to worry. He looks over his shoulder and winks at you as your mother puts him to work mixing ingredients. You honestly don’t even know how you react in response. It must be okay, though, because he smiles back at you.

You love to decorate the cookies and will happily help make them in other situations, but there are already too many cooks in the kitchen. Instead, you help to set up some of the card tables that your parents keep for times like these. It gives people the chance to figure out what they might want to play and who they want to join them. It really is a nice tradition, no matter how you feel about your parents. And since your mother usually spends more time on baking and decorating the cookies, she doesn’t notice if things get a little too competitive between you and the cousins. Or if your father eggs the rest of you on while he watches. She has her favorite parts and lets everyone else do whatever it is they want to do. As long as everyone takes a break to help with decorating the cookies. Not that it’s ever a concern, that’s most people’s favorite part. 

Once the tables are all set up, you settle into a board game with some of your cousins. Usually, you’re one of the more competitive ones. Board games come pretty easily to you and you pick up on the strategy quickly. If your cousins notice that you’re not nearly as invested this time, they let you have it. And they do notice it, pretty quickly, but let you have it. It’s easy to see you’re distracted and to see that you keep glancing into the kitchen at Mingyu. They just let you have it. It’s in their best interest, anyway. It’s nice to get the chance to win without you being fully committed to beating everyone around you. 

This kind of setting really gives you a chance to think without shutting yourself away in your bedroom. That’s too obvious. You can’t just say that your best friend confessed feelings for you and now you need to figure out what your own feelings are. Not when he’s pretending to be your boyfriend already. Not when your whole family already thinks you’re lying about having just gotten together with him. And not when your mother would probably kill you if you missed out on traditions that may be older than you are. 

All the spiralling in your brain is just cover, you realize, for the bigger picture. Mingyu likes you and he thinks this is the right time to have a conversation about it. He also knows that your friendship is the most important. You agree. He’s one of the most important people in your life, but is he more than that to you too? Is it possible that it’s more than friendship? That’s not something you ever considered. When you and Mingyu met in university it was through someone you were dating at the time. The relationship was, fortunately, very short lived. But the friendship with Mingyu, that was the stuff of stories. That instant connection that survived the breakup. The two of you always joke that your friendship was meant to be and that’s why it lasted when the relationship didn’t. Why others could come and go from your lives but you two are forever. Especially when either of you has dated someone that had an issue with the friendship. It’s insane to think that men and women can’t be friends. A completely archaic way of thinking. 

That makes you think about your friendship with Seungkwan, though. Someone in your life who has also always been a constant. Someone who supports all your rights and your wrongs, even if he gives you a hard time too. And that’s when something else clicks. Your past partners haven’t objected to your friendship with Seungkwan nearly as often as your friendship with Mingyu. It’s not that he’s not attractive, because he definitely is. It can’t be that you’re not as close. Seungkwan has been with you through a lot. It could be that there's been more distance between you and him since you moved away, but you’re not sure that’s it either. He’s a constant in your life even from a distance. When you can’t see him, you regularly FaceTime him. So, no, he’s still present even if he’s not in the same city. 

And then it hits you. You don’t watch Seungkwan lick something off his finger while he’s cooking.  You don’t get jealous of your cousin hitting on him, regardless of what else is going on. You don’t seek out physical affection in the same way. Don’t find yourself looking over at Seungkwan for his reaction to everything going on around you. Don’t want to know his thoughts on something before you make each big decision. Seungkwan is your best friend and he means the world to you, but the thought of him constantly kissing you on the cheek or the temple or forehead or even the back of your hand doesn’t unleash butterflies in your stomach. 

Holy shit. You’re in love with Mingyu. Definitely in way over your head with feelings that should have been obvious to you. It’s impossible to pinpoint when it might have happened or how. Maybe there isn’t a specific time. Maybe it’s something that happens slowly over time. You know that when you first became friends it was only that, a friendship. Someone that you could be yourself around and feel at home with in a very foreign environment. Somewhere along the way, it’s morphed into more. He really is the person you want to share all your news with, the person that you look to for support first. It’s so clear to you that your feelings are there now that he’s confessed and gotten you thinking about it. When you meet his eyes across the room, you wonder if he can see the realization on your face. 

Now that you realize that you also have feelings for Mingyu, you’re not sure how you missed it before. If you consider the traits you’re looking for in a partner, he ticks off every box. And if you’re being completely honest, he’s been the reason for adding some traits to your list. So, not that you’ll admit this to any of your most recent exes, but maybe they had a point when they questioned your relationship with Mingyu. Not a big point. They still had shitty reasons for disliking Mingyu, but a small point nonetheless. 

The rest of the evening seems to go by entirely too slowly, even if you do enjoy yourself. Much to the dismay of your cousins, you’re no longer distracted and you proceed to kick their asses at any game they suggest. You do go a little easier on them than normal, though, and avoid any of the trash talk. Thankfully Seungkwan isn’t there to point out that being in a good mood makes you soft. Even decorating the cookies is more fun than you can remember. You try not to think about whether that’s because Mingyu sits right next to you the whole time, trying to sabotage your cookie designs or make you laugh with his own. Spoiler alert: it absolutely is and you’re already down horrendous. It’s even easier to act like a cute couple in love now than it was before. And you also ignore the realization that it being so easy to pretend to be in a relationship with your best friend should have also been an indicator. Nobody ever said you were the most observant when it came to your own feelings. 

Finally, you get a free moment to go upstairs. It’s time to get changed for Christmas Eve dinner and that gives you both the chance to excuse yourselves. The only person who seems to be tracking the movement with some amount of interest is Mimi. You’re too caught up in reaching out for Mingyu’s hand to notice, though. His smile at the action is immediately familiar and new. Familiar because you know his face better than your own and new because you didn’t expect to see him looking at you like that.

“I didn’t expect your mom to have me working so hard in the kitchen helping with the cookie dough,” he says once you close the door. 

“Oh, I did,” you say through a snort. 

“How was the - “ 

“You were right.” 

You both go to speak at the same time and Mingyu’s mouth closes the second he realizes what you said. Whatever he wants to ask dies on his tongue over three words from your mouth. They might just be the second best three words you could say to him right then. 

“About?” he prompts. 

“It was the right time to tell me,” you confirm for him. It’s clear that he’s biting his tongue to let you say whatever you need to. Even if he knows by the look on your face. “I like you too.” 

“Thank fucking god,” he says with an exhale. “When Seungkwan told me that I should tell you because he caught you watching me, I thought he was being a shit and…”

“Wait, what?” you ask. Fucking Seungkwan. Of course.

“Oh, yeah, at brunch earlier he said that he noticed you watching me while I was cooking and that if I liked you like he thought I did, that I should probably tell you,” he says a little sheepishly. 

“You know what? Forget Seungkwan. I need to see something,” you say and close the space between you. 

Before Mingyu can ask anything, you’re on your tiptoes, hands cupping his face and lips pressed to his. He wraps his arms around your lower back to pull you tighter against his body without missing a beat. And that really is all you need to know. Everything is in that first real kiss. Any lingering hesitations slip away. You can feel his promises and the answers to the questions you know you’ll have to actually ask in that kiss. For now, it just feels like coming home. Like you found the person that can get through all the bullshit and remind you about what’s actually important in life. 

“Wow,” you say when you pull away.

“Yeah,” he agrees. 

“Is that what I’ve been missing out on?” you wonder.

“Just how long have you liked me?” he says with an all too knowing smirk. 

“I only realized today so I’ve got some catch up to do,” you joke. 

“We both do, I think,” he says. 

Without having to say a word, both of you get ready for Christmas dinner since your mother insists that you get dressed up. Every few seconds one of you seems to catch the other looking. It feels exciting, but you’re also a little shy. There’s a lot to talk about and a lot to navigate. You know you can’t put it aside. It just doesn’t feel as time sensitive now. This is one of the most important people in your life and it’s going to work out. At least, if you can get through the whole drawn out affair that is dinner first. 

Which you do. Through all your mother’s courses and all the formality that she insists on following, you have Mingyu by your side. You’re not even distracted by Mimi on the other side of the table. She can’t seem to take her eyes off you while you and Mingyu can’t take your eyes off each other. More than once, you entirely miss a question and Mingyu has to nudge you to prompt you. It’s not your fault, you reason. He’s just so insanely attractive and made all the more so because you know that he’s a genuinely wonderful person. 

Every part of you wants to skip the after dinner drinks and go back upstairs with Mingyu, but he quietly insists that you should stay. Even laughs when you turn his signature pout back around on him. If he makes a good point that you have nothing but time, you still want to take advantage of some of that time right now. Instead, you sip on your rumchata and curl into Mingyu on the oversized armchair by the fire. Despite trying to leave a little bit of space, you’re basically sitting on his lap at his own insistence. 

Once the first people start to call it a night, you look at Mingyu with nearly pleading eyes. That gets a light laugh out of him as he nods to agree that you can go upstairs to your bedroom. You say your goodnights to everyone in the room, wish people a Happy Christmas Eve, and lead the way back up to your room even though he doesn’t need the directions 

It’s nice to have uninterrupted time to figure everything out with Mingyu now that your feelings are out in the open. And once you’re both changed and through your skincare routines, you get into bed just to talk. It’s remarkable how much can fall into place so easily. It’s obvious that he figured out his feelings first. You insist that yours are already just as strong. The two of you depend on each other in everything without realizing it. Turn to each other for support. Share in all the best news. Suffer through any heartbreak together. In the years of friendship, there’s something deeper than either of you ever expected.

Honestly, it’s not even something either of you just held onto or harbored for years. The feelings really came suddenly. Mingyu shares that he wasn’t just waiting around to tell you that he had feelings for you. He also shares, though you already know, that no part of him felt entitled to your returned feelings. Had Seungkwan not said something, he’s not even sure if or when he would have said something. The last thing he would ever want was to make you uncomfortable. As much as he cares about you and wants to explore the relationship, you’re also the best friend he’s ever had. You feel the same. It’s a little scary and exciting at the same time. You trust Mingyu with your heart in a way that you’ve never trusted anyone else.

It’s entirely too late into the night by the time you and Mingyu fall asleep. How the two of you have so much to say at this point in the friendship is something to be studied. But, eventually you drift off, completely intertwined with Mingyu. He’s been a cuddler this whole trip and you’re not sure how he’s gotten himself even more attached to you. Yet, he does. It’s like any space between you would be too much. It’s too much satisfaction to give him that he’s right. He can tell anyway. 

When you wake up, it feels too early. A fact only confirmed when you check your phone. None of the little cousins or your cousins with kids are staying at your parents’ house. So, you know that it doesn’t have to be an early start to the morning. You consider if you can drift off back to sleep. In the night, you ended up with Mingyu spooning you. His arm is loosely draped over you and your back is pressed somewhat lightly into his chest. When you go to adjust to think about drifting back off, your ass brushes against his hips, you feel something press into you. That stops you for a moment. Obviously, you and Mingyu talked about sex the night before. About how you wanted to try to take it a little slower since this means so much to both of you. And obviously you know that it’s relatively common for a guy to wake up a little hard. Your brain knows all those things. Knows what you should do. You should just reposition and go back to sleep. 

That’s not what you actually do though. 

So carefully that it could be an accident, you wiggle against him, a little harder this time. You yawn like you’re actually just adjusting to get comfortable and fall back asleep. He might let you get away with it, too, if you didn’t do it more than once, pressing further back into him each time. You know he’s awake by the sharp intake of breath and then the way he moves his hand to grip your thigh. The way his fingertips dig into your skin there makes you grind back harder without pretending it’s anything else. 

Mingyu puts his lips to your ear. “Are you trying to drive me crazy?” 

“No,” you whisper. 

“I thought we said we were going to take it slow,” he says with incredible difficulty.

“I can move slower,” you answer immediately. It feels gratifying when he snaps his hips into your ass. 

“You’re teasing me,” he whines.

“Not if I follow through,” you say. “I want you, Mingyu. I don’t want to wait.” 

“Fuck,” he hisses as you continue to grind into him. “I want you to.” 

“Then…” you start and immediately cut off as his hand winds back around to your front. He grabs your pussy through your shorts that suddenly feel too flimsy. Runs his long middle finger up your core and you immediately know you started something that he’s going to finish. 

But his hand is gone entirely too quickly. Worse still, he pulls back. It’s only long enough for him to turn you towards him and then pull you on top of him. Your brain catches back up once you’re straddle over him and he pulls your face towards him. You kiss him like you haven’t yet. Full of desire and desperation. Nothing like the first few kisses you share. Those kisses were to make sure this was right. This kiss is to ruin him. Maybe to ruin yourself as well. His hands are on your hips, anchoring you to him, not that there’s anywhere else you could possibly be. 

It’s never been like this with anyone. Just some heavy kissing and you’re already getting turned on. Already wondering what’s next. What it’s going to feel like. If Mingyu is the type of person that will take his time with you. It’s hard to imagine when he seems just as desperate as you are. At least, he tries to anchor you in a certain position so that you can’t grind too much. Maybe he does want to savor it. You really are down horrendous for this man because you think you could just kiss him like this forever and never quite get enough. 

All too soon, Mingyu rolls the pair of you over again. Now he’s hovering over you and nobody has any business being that hot. And then he pulls back, somewhat straddling your legs without putting too much weight on you. In one movement, he pulls his shirt over his head and casts it aside. Okay, now you really think that nobody has any business being that hot. And sure, you’ve seen him shirtless before. This is just different. You don’t even realize as he’s reaching for your shirt until you feel his fingers brush the skin of your stomach. He’s looking for permission, but you’re a little impatient and pull the shirt off yourself. You’re not sure that anyone has ever looked at your body with so much love. Like he’s just as amazed as you are. He peppers your chest and your chest and your stomach with kisses. Showing you just how much he loves every bit of you. It’s the safest feeling in the world and you’re not really sure how you got this lucky. 

Mingyu is so gentle when he pulls your shorts off. Trails kisses along your thighs as well and makes you shiver. Chuckles when he pulls his own off and you swallow at the sight of him. He’s a big guy and somehow you’re still not expecting his dick to be big like it is. Haven’t ever really thought about it in all the time you’ve been friends. You expect him to be all confident seeing your reaction. There’s something else there too, though. Like he’s a little nervous about this. You’re not really sure what to say to reassure him, so you just pull him back to you to kiss him again. He adjusts into you almost immediately, half laying on top of you while still making sure that he’s not crushing you.

This time kissing him is very different, though. He moves one hand between your legs. It’s gentle at first. He only runs his finger up your center a few times. Catches each moan with his kisses. Slowly works a finger inside you and pumps at a languid pace. It turns you into a whiny, squirming mess entirely too quickly. Empties any thoughts or worries out of your head. You know you can’t be too loud and you hate it. Nobody should be able to kiss this well while also hitting the perfect spot with each pass of his fingers. He adds a second finger and you’re sure that you’re done for. Sure that nothing else will ever feel as perfect as him again. You reach to stroke him and he pulls back. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, unable to hide the concern in your voice.

“No, nothing,” he assures you quickly. “I just, um, well I really want to fuck you and I’m not sure I could handle it if…”

“Do you have a condom?” you ask, already ready to say it doesn’t matter if you have to.

“I might?” he says more like a question and gets off the bed to cross to his bag with too much speed. In any other situation you might laugh. Now, you just want to feel him. A moment later, after rifling through his bag, he comes back up with one. 

He’s moving back to you, unwrapping the condom, and then he looks up at you. There’s a question in his eyes.

“Yes, Mingyu, I want this. And yes, I want it here,” you assure him. 

Thankfully, that’s the only confirmation he needs. In the next second, he’s pumping himself a few times and rolling the rubber onto himself. You move to reposition, but he doesn’t let you. He gently presses you back and gets between your legs. Carefully, he lines himself up and presses in. 

“Oh fuck,” you hiss out, trying to stay quiet. 

“Too much?” he asks and stills.

“No, Gyu, just move, please,” you whine out, pulling him into you. 

He does exactly what you ask and snaps his hips so he’s fully buried inside you. It’s a stretch in the best way. Like this is exactly how it’s supposed to be. You can’t help it, you moan out the first time he thrusts and he catches the second moan with another bruising kiss. Probably better to have bruised lips than to have your family hear the screams you let out as he fucks you. Probably better than having them hear his moans as well. They vibrate through his chest and it gives you a sense of pride. Mingyu is a taker in every sense of his life. You know that it must be killing him to keep quiet now. 

The two of you fall into a perfect rhythm without even trying. There’s nothing awkward about it being your first time. Knowing each other as well as you do as friends seems to translate here. Or maybe Mingyu just pays much closer attention to you than you realize. You run your nails down his back and his thrusts stutter so you do it again. That seems to get to him. He picks up the paces of his thrusts. Pulls his dick almost all the way out of you before quickly snapping his hips to bury himself in your pussy again. Never in your life has sex as simple as this position felt so good. Never has anyone you’ve dated felt this perfect. 

When Mingyu’s thrusts start to stutter, you reach down between your bodies to rub your clit. Seconds later, your pussy clenches around Mingyu and your vision whites out. You can feel Mingyu release and try to pick up the pace to work him through his own orgasm. He half collapses on you, breathing heavy. Both of you have to catch your breath from all the kisses to muffle the noises as well. He tries to roll over so that he’s not on top of you and you cling to him, not ready to lose contact just yet.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assures you.

“I know.” 

“That was…” 

“Better than I was expecting.” 

You can feel his eyes on you even without looking and it makes you smile. Can imagine what he’s about to say before he even opens his mouth.

“Oh, you didn’t think I’d be any good?” 

You laugh at that as you turn to face him. “No, I thought you’d be good. I just didn’t expect our first time where we had to be quiet because we’re in my parents house to be that good.” 

He considers your words for a second.

“I guess I can take that,” he concedes. 

“Come on. We have to clean up and get downstairs,” you say and he sighs dramatically. But, then he gets up and helps you up with him. 

Half an hour later, you’re downstairs at the kitchen table sipping on a peppermint mocha latte and picking out your favorite pastries from the spread your mother has out. Mingyu has his chair pulled close to you and his arm along the back of your chair. Your cousin is sitting on your other side, cheerily humming under her breath. In a strange move, she isn’t even trying to speak to Mingyu. Just as you’re trying to figure out what’s going on with her, she turns to you.

“Have a good morning?” she asks knowingly.

“We’ll talk about it later,” you hiss back, casting your eyes around. 

“No need,” she waves off and shoots a smirk at you. “I got exactly what I wanted.” 

“I don’t…” 

“Seungkwan and I have been talking a lot. Plotting, I guess you could say. Seems like it finally paid off,” she says and your jaw hangs open. 

“Are you…did you just…” you stutter out. 

“As long as it’s real now,” she says and doesn’t wait for confirmation. Doesn’t need it, when it’s written all over your face. “We can talk about it later but I am sorry.” 

“You and fucking Seungkwan,” you grumble. 

It is a weight off your chest, though. Mimi has always been your favorite. A safe space in all the insanity of your family. It’s good to know that she’s still that for you. The two of you can argue about her methods, or her alliance with Seungkwan, later. It’s hard to ignore that it did actually help. You’re in this place because some of your favorite people meddled to help you and Mingyu see sense. Maybe you can say all is well that ends well. 

In between all the chaos of breakfast and making sure the presents are under the tree, you manage to tell Mingyu about what Mimi had really been up to. He seems relieved. Not even annoyed, just happy that things can settle into whatever the new normal looks like for you and him. You also find time to whisper all the things you want to do to him when there aren’t prying eyes around. It may be cruel, but you delight in the way the blush rises up his cheeks and the way he shifts in his seat. You’re going to have a lot of fun playing with him, you already know. He’s so easy to rile up. Now you have brand new material to use on him. 

Your mother works to corral everyone into the living room where the Christmas tree is so that people can start opening presents. You always hold back and watch at first. Don’t even make an effort to find anything that might be for you. It’s more fun to see people’s reactions. Does your mother like what your father picked out? Are your cousins humoring their parents? Did someone manage to get something that’s genuinely a surprise? There’s never a dull moment. In fact, you’re so lost in thought watching that you don't notice wasn’t beside you until he plops back down and nudges you. Hands a small, beautifully wrapped box over to you. 

“Go on, open it,” he urges you softly. It’s clear he’s trying not to draw too much attention. 

Exchanging gifts with Mingyu isn’t new. It’s something you do every year. This is unexpected though. Usually you exchange gifts away from other people because they can be a little silly. Nothing about this feels silly, though. With a final questioning glance at him, you pull the ribbon off and carefully ripping the paper. It’s immediately clear that it’s a jewelry box. That makes your heart hammer. You can’t even look over at him. Surely this is something he had already. It’s not like there’s been any time to go out and get something in the midst of all your confessions. 

There’s a necklace inside the box. Something that looks old, important. The kind of thing you can tell has been well worn and loved without looking cheap. There’s a pendant hanging from the chain with your favorite stone in a setting that you instantly love. It’s the most perfect gift that anyone has ever given you and it makes you a little emotional. You turn to Mingyu, tears welling in your eyes, and want to have the moment just for the two of you. Unfortunately, your mother and several other family members watch your reaction.

“It’s beautiful,” you say softly.

“Do you like it?” he asks, still unsure.

“I love it,” you say earnestly.

“It was my grandmother’s that she got from her grandmother before her. She told me to hold onto it and that I would just know when I should give it to someone,” he says and that does you in. Any last resolve disappears. 

The only response you can think of is to just kiss him. A real kiss pressed to his lips full of all the words you can’t say about how much a present like this means to you. How sure you are that you two are making the right decision. It’s so meaningful. 

“I love you,” he says quietly, trying to keep it just for the two of you. Which doesn’t happen. Not that it matters. Your parents have heard you saying you loved each other this whole trip. It means something different now, though.

“I love you, too,” you say back. “So much.” 

“It’s a beautiful necklace,” your mother offers as Mingyu helps you to put it on. 

“I thought it would look good on her,” he adds to your mother. 

“Almost as good as a ring,” your mother says. It’s the least subtle comment in the entire world.

Mingyu doesn’t miss a beat. Just smiles and nods a little. “Well, maybe you’ll have to invite me back next year and see what the gift is.” 

“You have a deal.” 

For the first time, you’re not upset with your mother for bringing up marriage and the idea of settling down. You’re just basking in the affection coming from Mingyu and appreciating your new necklace. Soon, you’ll have to leave this little bubble. Trade the idyllic snow covered scenery where everything moves a little slower for your life back in the city. But, you’ll be taking a different relationship with Mingyu back. You think that maybe he’ll be the key to you finally figuring out how to balance it all. Maybe he’s been the answer all along. 

[masterhallmark]

Rant incoming

I feel like the problem with a lot of Disney's live action remakes (and arguably Wish) is they're trying to appeal to a crowd that no longer exists, namely the people who used to claim that the Disney Princesses were sexist.

All the interviews tend to include, "Well she's not chasing a MAN anymore" which...almost no one sees the princesses like that, anymore. Virtually NO ONE still believes the princesses are man-chasing sexist caricatures of women.

Cinderella is now hailed as an abuse victim who stayed strong long enough to get help to get out of her situation. Anyone who says she should have saved herself is basically regarded as a victim blamer. And it's very clear in the film she wasn't looking to marry the prince, she just wanted a night off. She was the only one who wasn't in line to meet him. She didn't find out she met the prince until he went looking for her!

Snow White is now hailed for her negotiation skills, ability to calm down after extreme stress (she had a moment of panic and had to cry for a bit, but who wouldn't after finding out The Queen hired someone to kill you?), and ability to take charge of a house of adult men. And again, she was an abuse victim, this time trying to escape ASSASSINATION ATTEMPTS. While she dreamed of her prince, it was secondary to her main goal of SURVIVAL. There are also entire video essays about how Snow White gave hope to people during The Great Depression.

Everyone acknowledges that Ariel wanted to be human BEFORE meeting Eric. We all know she was a nerd hyperfixating on humans, and also standing up to her prejudiced father.

We understand Sleeping Beauty wasn't the main character, the Three Good Fairies were, AND PHILLIP WOULD NEVER HAVE BEATEN MALEFICENT WITHOUT THEM! He literally depended on them! WOMEN SAVED THE DAY! But even then, is it really such a sin for a girl to fantasize about romance and fall for someone with corny pickup lines?

We all understand Jasmine just wanted someone to treat her LIKE A PERSON. She rejected every Prince before Aladdin because they treated her like a prize. So why did they need her to want to be Sultan? How did that make her more feminist when she already wanted to be treated like an equal and have a say in her future? Is it only empowering if you want a career in politics?

We admire that Belle, despite living in a judgemental village, was kind to everyone (even though she found the village life dull), and her story teaches girls that the guy everyone else loves isn't always a good guy. What's sexist about teaching girls about red flags? And she didn't start being nice to The Beast until he started treating her with respect and kindness.

Do I really NEED to defend Mulan or Tiana? I think they speak for themselves.

Rapunzel was yet another abuse victim who just needed a little help to get out of her bad situation. In this case, she also needed to learn that she was an abuse victim, and that what Mother Gothel did WASN'T normal, much like many victims of gaslighting.

And don't get me started on the non-princess animals.

Perdita had a healthy relationship with Pongo to the point she was open to express her pregnancy fears to him, and was ready to TEAR APART Cruella's goons for daring to touch her puppies as well as adopting the other puppies. Like, she was so ferocious the goons mistook her for a hyena! She's basically that "I AM THAT GIRL'S MOTHER!" scene from SpyXFamily if Yor were a dog. She and her husband were a TEAM.....but they made a Cruella live action to turn her into a girlboss?! The literal animal abuser!? THAT'S the woman you wanted to put on a pedestal when Perdita was RIGHT THERE!?

Duchess kept her kittens calm after they had been catnapped and was classy as heck. Nice to everyone regardless of social class during a time period where that was uncommon.

Lady stood up to Tramp when she believed he had abandoned her and didn't really care about her. She found out he was a heartbreaker and was like, "Nuh uh. No. You are not doing that to me! You put me through enough."

Miss Bianca from The Rescuers was IN CHARGE the whole movie, and was willing to risk life and limb to save an innocent child. THAT TINY MOUSE TOOK ON ALLIGATORS! And she picked Bernard to accompany her because he was the only one who wasn't ogling her. And then in the sequel SHE DID IT ALL AGAIN! I wish I were as brave as her.

Like, the public haven't accused these ladies of being sexist caricatures since 2014 (Actresses and actors don't count, they're out of touch like the rest of Hollywood) yet Disney is operating under the assumption that the public still thinks that way, hence all the "sHe'S nOt AfTeR a MaN iN ThIs VeRsIOn" talk.

The live action remakes are trying to attract an audience that doesn't really exist much, anymore, and back when it did exist, was comprised mainly of people who didn't actually watch the films. The Disney princesses are no longer seen as sexist, and feminine qualities are no longer seen as weak or undesirable.

[moonlitstoriess]

Frosted Hearts-Azriel x fem!reader

Summary: Forced into a marriage neither wanted, Y/n (a Hybern Nobel) and Azriel vowed to keep their distance. But as walls crack and truths emerge, they begin to wonder if a union born of duty could become something real.

Warnings: ANGST ANGST AND MORE ANGST, reallyyyyy longgg, smut towards the end, some elain x azriel, mentions of injuries and violence, just an overall mix of everything lmao.

See masterlist

Azriel stood at the edge of the table, his fists clenched at his sides, the room thick with the weight of silence. The Inner Circle was gathered, all eyes on Rhysand as the High Lord gave one last glance around the room before fixing his gaze on Azriel.

“Azriel,” Rhysand’s voice cut through the tension, calm but firm, “I thought you were smarter than this. You’re the only one without a mate. Everyone else has already found their bond. But we’ve been given an opportunity to secure peace, and I need you to understand this.”

The words barely registered at first. Azriel's mind was a storm, his thoughts consumed with a single image: Elain. The image of her had haunted him for weeks now. The way her smile would light up the room, the way her gentle spirit reached for his own, the warmth she exuded. He had thought...

But it had never been. The bond, the pull that others spoke of, had never shown itself, not with her. She was bonded to Lucien, and Azriel, for all his desire, had no claim.

Still, the bitter taste of that unspoken love clung to his tongue. He swallowed it down as his eyes snapped to Rhysand.

"Peace," Azriel echoed, his voice low, dangerous. "You're asking me to marry someone from Hybern? After everything they've done?" His voice trembled with restrained fury. He could already hear the echoes of war—the bloodshed, the pain, the hatred that simmered beneath the surface of every court, but none more than his own.

Rhysand’s eyes never wavered. "I know it's not easy. But we need this alliance, Azriel. If we want any chance at peace, this is the price. You are the only one who has yet to be bound, the only one who has the power to seal this deal."

Azriel pointed to Mor, who was sitting on one of the couches. "What about her?! She also has no gods damned mate!! Why does it have to be me?!!"

He didn't give a chance for anyone to say anything else before opening his mouth once more.

"You’re asking me to throw away everything I stand for. To sacrifice my pride. To marry into the very court that has been our enemy, that has caused us endless suffering." His voice was dangerously cold, and the room held its breath.

"I know it’s not fair,” Rhys said, his tone a little softer. “But it’s necessary. Azriel, this isn’t just about you. This is about ensuring our people survive. And the new King of Hybern is willing to agree to terms. But only if the marriage goes through. It’s temporary, a means to an end. Once both sides get what they want, then..." Rhys trailed off, a look of finality crossing his face. “Then, we’ll negotiate further. Divorce, if need be.”

Azriel was silent for a long moment, struggling against the deep, primal need to lash out. Every fiber of his being screamed in opposition to this. But then there was that sharp, guttural pain in his chest—the thought of Elain, her soft gaze, and the way he had foolishly imagined a future that could never be.

"You want me to marry someone from Hybern," Azriel said again, but it was more a statement than a question now. His eyes, usually hidden beneath the shadows, were intense, burning with the fury of someone whose heart was being torn in two. "And you want me to do it for peace? For a treaty?"

Rhys’s expression softened, but his voice remained firm. "You are loyal to your people, Azriel. I need you to be loyal to them now, more than ever."

The words were heavy in Azriel's chest, pushing him down, trapping him. He couldn’t look at any of them. Not at Cassian, who had been his brother in arms for so long, not at Feyre, whose gaze was filled with understanding, not at Mor, who seemed to sense the weight of his hesitation. They all knew this wasn’t about politics. It was about something far more personal.

"You’ll do it, Azriel," Rhysand said, his voice unwavering. “I know this is hard, but there’s no other choice. Your loyalty to this court is everything. And you’ll hold up your end, as you always do.”

Azriel wanted to scream, wanted to throw his shadow blades and tear this whole room apart. But instead, he locked eyes with his brother. "And if I don't? What then, Rhys?"

A moment of stillness passed, then Rhys gave a quiet, almost regretful sigh. "If you don’t, you risk everything we’ve built. And I won’t allow that. Not again."

The weight of those words crushed him, and Azriel's chest constricted painfully. The High Lord’s authority loomed over him like an insurmountable mountain, and there was no escaping it. He couldn’t refuse.

"Fine," Azriel spat, his voice raw. "I’ll do it. But don’t expect me to ever forgive you for this."

He heard a gasp come from somewhere in the room but paid no attention to who it was.

"You don’t have to," Rhysand replied, his tone sharp yet understanding. "But you’ll see. This will be for the best. Just trust me on this. Peace is fragile, Azriel. We cannot afford to lose it now."

Azriel nodded stiffly, the words of agreement tasting like ash in his mouth. His gaze shifted to the map sprawled on the table, but all he saw were flashes of the life he would never have. The life he thought he might have had with Elain, the love he had never confessed, now buried beneath the weight of duty.

"Who is it?" Azriel asked through gritted teeth, knowing the answer would crush him further.

Rhys leaned back in his chair, his eyes flicking briefly to Cassian before he spoke. "Her name is y/n. A noble of Hybern’s court. Her family holds considerable power."

Azriel’s heart sank. Hybern. The very name twisted his insides. He had fought against them, bled for his people in the wars they waged. The thought of being tied to them—bound by marriage—was unbearable.

But in the end, there was no other choice. Rhys had laid out the terms, and Azriel had no leverage to pull back. The political game had been set. And so, with a sharp, resigned breath, Azriel forced himself to accept what he couldn’t change.

“I’ll do it. But I’m not doing it for Hybern. I’m doing it for you. For this court.” His voice was cold, void of any emotion.

Rhys’s gaze softened ever so slightly. "I know."

Azriel’s mind was a storm of bitterness and uncertainty, but deep down, he knew this was the only path forward. Even as his heart still ached for Elain, for the love that would never be, he forced himself to look at the bigger picture. This was the price for peace. And Azriel would bear it, no matter how much it tore at him inside.

-----

The carriage rumbled over the cobblestone streets of Velaris, but Y/N’s mind was a whirlwind, the sights and sounds of the city falling into a distant blur. She barely even noticed the glow of the lanterns lighting the streets or the way the city seemed to pulse with energy. All she could think about was the weight of the day ahead—the wedding, the marriage that had been forced upon her.

She had never once dreamed of this day. No, she had only ever dreamed of freedom. A life away from her father’s suffocating grip, away from the oppressive cruelty of Hybern’s court. But when the King of Hybern had made his announcement, that dream shattered. The words still echoed in her mind: "This marriage is your duty. It is for the good of the realm, for the future of Hybern. You will do your part." And her father, cold as ever, had simply agreed.

Her father. The man who had never once cared to listen to her, to understand her, who had always seen her as a means to an end. How many times had she pleaded with him to let her choose her own path? To let her make her own decisions? How many times had he silenced her with that patronizing smile and a cold word or two? He was no different from the King of Hybern, who had made this decision for her with no care for her opinion. She had been nothing more than a bargaining chip, an object to secure an alliance between two powerful courts.

The alliance with the Night Court.

Her stomach churned. She could feel the hatred rising in her chest as her mind wandered to him—the one she was about to marry. Azriel. The name alone made her skin crawl. She hated him. She hated his people. She hated everything they represented.

As someone from Hybern, she had been raised to view the other courts as the enemy. To despise them. To see their lands as the threat that had nearly destroyed her home, her family, her life. And Azriel… he was one of them. A member of the Night Court, the very court that had joined forces with the others to overthrow Hybern’s rule. He was a reminder of the battle that had torn her world apart, of the war that had left her with nothing but bitterness and a deep sense of betrayal.

Her heart pounded as the city stretched out before her. The streets of Velaris, with their beauty and elegance, felt like a mockery to her—another reminder of the life she would never have, a life she could never choose for herself. This wasn’t where she belonged. It wasn’t her world. She was being forced into a marriage with a man she loathed, a man who would never look at her with anything but disdain.

Why should she care? Why should she feel anything but anger? She had no reason to soften, no reason to accept this union as anything more than a political necessity. This marriage was about securing peace, about saving her people, and she would do her duty—if only because she had no other choice.

"Remember your place," her mother’s voice cut through her dark thoughts, as sharp and cold as always. "This marriage is for Hybern. For your family. Don’t forget that."

Y/n turned her gaze toward her mother, her face betraying nothing. She had long since stopped trying to earn her mother’s approval. Her mother had made it clear that affection was a weakness. Power was what mattered. And right now, that meant this marriage, this alliance.

The carriage came to a stop, and y/n’s stomach tightened even more. She was here. She was in Velaris, about to meet her future—her future with a man she couldn’t stand, in a city she didn’t belong to. The door swung open, and a servant stepped forward to assist her. She stepped out of the carriage, her eyes scanning the unfamiliar streets, taking in the sights, the smells, the people.

Everything felt so alien, so out of place. How could she stand here, knowing what was to come?

Her thoughts were interrupted as her mother’s sharp tone reached her again. "Come along, y/n. We must get you prepared. The sooner this is over, the better."

Her heart hardened, and she gave one last glance to the city before allowing herself to be ushered inside. There was no turning back now.

As she was led to the chambers where she would be dressed for her wedding, her mind remained fixed on one thing: Azriel. Her future husband, the male she would have to pretend to tolerate. A male who, like her, was a prisoner to the game of politics. And yet, that didn’t stop the rage that bubbled within her. She had to marry him, yes, but it didn’t mean she had to like him. She could be cold, distant, and bitter—and she would. After all, it was the only armor she had left.

The chambers they led her to were grand—opulent, even. The room smelled faintly of roses, a scent that would have once been comforting, but now only made her stomach twist in irritation. This was all too much. The fine silks, the elegant mirrors, the soft lighting—it felt like a cruel mockery of everything she had lost.

"Sit," a servant instructed her, guiding her to a large velvet chair. The disdain these people felt for her was palpable. Y/n obeyed without protest, though every fiber of her being screamed to run. To escape this whole situation. But she was not a child anymore. She had no more room to fight. Not in this.

Her mother stood off to the side, watching with a sharp gaze that never left her. "Do this right," she said coldly, "and remember why this is happening. This is your chance to bring honor to our family."

Y/n clenched her fists in her lap, biting back the words she so desperately wanted to scream. She would bring honor to no one, not for this. She wasn’t doing this for her family, or for Hybern. She was doing it because she had no choice. She hated the way her mother’s eyes gleamed with the certainty that this was all for the greater good. It was never about what y/n wanted. It was never about her.

The servants worked in silence, pulling the dress over her head and adjusting the delicate lace at the shoulders. It was beautiful—silk so fine it felt like water, ivory with subtle gold embroidery—and utterly suffocating. Every layer seemed to add more weight to her chest. She barely breathed as they fastened the gown and placed the veil over her hair. The look was regal, but it felt foreign on her. Like she was playing a role that didn’t fit.

“Don’t look so miserable,” her mother muttered, her voice bitter. “Smile at your future husband. This is your duty, and it will make you valuable. That’s all that matters in this world.”

Y/N fought the tears that threatened to spill. Her mother had never been kind, but this was the worst she had ever been. She had no room for sympathy, no space to feel anything but the weight of this arrangement. The day was about securing an alliance, a peace that would serve Hybern’s interests above all. It didn’t matter if she was happy. It didn’t matter if she was terrified. It didn’t matter if she was about to marry a man she couldn’t stand, a man who represented everything she hated.

"Isn’t that enough, Mother?" she muttered bitterly, her voice barely audible.

Her mother’s gaze flicked over her, sharp and calculating. “Do not think that you can win the affection of your husband. He does not care for you, y/n. And you should not care for him. If you do, it will be your downfall.”

Her words stung, but y/n didn’t allow herself to show it. What was the point? Her mother was right in one regard—this marriage wasn’t about love. It wasn’t even about friendship. It was about survival. Political survival. For Hybern, and for herself.

The weight of that reality pressed down on her once more as a servant carefully adjusted her veil. Everything felt far too delicate, too perfect—too much of a lie.

As they finished preparing her, y/n's’s thoughts wandered again to Azriel. She could feel the resentment building within her, a solid block of ice. The thought of him made her insides twist. A warrior. A spy. Cold and distant, just as his people were. Just as the Night Court had been. She had no affection for him. There was nothing between them, and there never would be.

His name echoed in her mind—Azriel. Her husband. The one who was not even there today, the one who had no interest in her. She couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same coldness, the same anger that churned in her chest.

But, then again, she didn’t care. Not really. She had no illusions about this marriage. The idea that he might be anything more than an obstacle in her path was laughable. This would be a cold union, one built on necessity, not love.

The door to the chambers opened once more with a soft creak, and her mother stepped forward, her eyes narrowing at her daughter. “Time to go, let us get this over with.” she said, her tone cold as ice.

Y/N took a deep breath, standing slowly, the weight of the gown pulling at her every step. Her heart hammered in her chest as she walked toward the door, the finality of what was about to happen closing in on her.

As they exited the chambers and made their way toward the venue, the sounds of the city faded once more. Velaris. The city of stars. She could see the grand procession ahead, and as the large doors of the venue opened before her, a rush of voices filled the air. The audience, the people waiting for this to happen, the ones who were so excited for the union. They didn’t know the truth. They didn’t know what she felt.

Her chest tightened with every step.

She had no choice in this, and that made it worse.

But once she entered the venue, the grand hall before her, her gaze flicked to the front of the room, where Azriel stood, tall and unmoving. Her future. Her marriage.

And she loathed every single part of it.

------

Azriel’s jaw was tight as he stood at the altar, trying to contain the fury boiling within him. His brothers flanked him—Rhysand, his High Lord, standing on his left, and Cassian on his right. They both tried to speak in hushed tones, but Azriel barely heard them, his focus narrowed on the heavy silence that pressed down on him like an unseen weight. The quiet mutterings of the guests around them faded, but the tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to make his wings twitch with unease.

“Az, calm down,” Rhysand murmured, his voice just above a whisper. “This is just for politics. You know what’s at stake here. We need this alliance.”

“I don’t care about alliances,” Azriel muttered under his breath, his gaze hard as he stared straight ahead, refusing to meet his brother’s eyes. His teeth ground together, the words of his bride-to-be echoing in his mind—“We’re both stuck in this. It’s not my choice either.”

Cassian leaned in, trying to catch Azriel’s gaze. “Listen, I know you’re angry. But this is the best path forward for everyone. You have no idea how much this will help us.”

Azriel’s lips pressed into a thin line. They don’t understand, he thought, his eyes flicking briefly toward the grand doors of the hall. The moment this marriage had been announced, he had felt as if the ground had been ripped out from beneath him. An arranged marriage with a stranger. A stranger from Hybern, no less. The kingdom he’d fought against, the same land that had caused so much suffering.

His fists clenched at his sides, and he resisted the urge to spread his wings, to take flight and leave it all behind. His thoughts were still consumed with Elain. His heart was still with her, even as his mind screamed at him to focus on what was in front of him.

Suddenly, the doors creaked open, and Azriel’s heart skipped a beat.

Y/N entered, her movements slow but purposeful, her posture regal yet somehow burdened. The long aisle stretched before her, and Azriel took a moment to study her, trying to push aside the bitterness gnawing at his insides. She was beautiful, no question about it. Atleast the slightly see-through veil suggested that. But there was something about the way she walked—something heavy in her gaze—that suggested a kind of sorrow he couldn’t ignore.

He felt her presence as she approached, like an invisible pull, yet his mind couldn’t seem to focus entirely on her. His chest tightened as she got closer, her figure framed by the soft glow of the candles lining the aisle. She was delicate, yet strong, the fabric of her gown brushing the floor with every step. Her features were soft, but her expression was unreadable, her eyes set straight ahead, avoiding his gaze. Azriel couldn’t help but notice the faint lines beneath her eyes, the subtle exhaustion that seemed to cling to her.

She looks nothing like Elain, he thought bitterly, his heart twisting in his chest.

When she reached him, standing by his side, the tension between them was thick enough to cut through with a knife. Rhysand gave him a pointed look, and Cassian nudged his shoulder, but Azriel remained unmoving. The ceremony dragged on in a haze. The words were distant, like an echo in his mind, meaningless and empty. Every word, every vow spoken felt like an iron chain tightening around his chest.

And then it was time.

The veil.

Azriel’s breath caught in his throat as the priestess gestured toward y/n, signaling that it was time for him to lift the veil. His fingers trembled slightly, his mind racing. The act felt too intimate, too personal for a woman he barely knew. But he did as required, his hands gentle but firm as he lifted the veil from her face.

Her features were more beautiful than he’d expected, her delicate bone structure and full lips something to admire. Her eyes, though—those haunted eyes—held a world of stories he could only guess at. She met his gaze for a fleeting moment, and it almost felt like she was searching for something in him, something that would reassure her. But he was too lost in his own thoughts, too consumed by the presence of Elain in his mind.

He forced himself to meet her gaze again, this time with more intent, and his heart twisted in his chest. What do I even see in her? The thought was fleeting, almost absurd, but there it was, gnawing at him like a bitter ache.

As the priestess finished, the moment arrived. The kiss. His gaze flickered to Elain, sitting in the front alongside her sisters, her face pale, her eyes filled with quiet sorrow. The soft curve of her mouth, the sadness in her expression—it was all too much for him. His heart pounded, the weight of the kiss pressing down on him as he slowly turned back to y/n.

She waited, her eyes still distant, her lips slightly parted in expectation. Azriel couldn’t breathe. His chest tightened, his mind a whirlwind of confusion and frustration.

He didn’t want this. He didn’t want her. He couldn’t—He couldn’t kiss her with his heart still tied to Elain.

So, instead of pressing his lips to hers, he leaned forward and placed a quick, cold kiss on her cheek. His mouth lingered for only a moment, and he felt her stiffen, but there was nothing else. The spark that he had hoped for didn’t come, and the hollow emptiness in his chest only deepened.

The ceremony was over. The weight of what he had just done—what he had just agreed to—hung heavy in the air.

This is not what I want.

----------

The ballroom was a sea of silk and jewels, a mixture of laughter and hushed conversation swirling through the air like a melody that grated against her nerves. It was meant to be a celebration, but all y/n could feel was the weight of the night pressing against her chest, suffocating her with each passing second.

She sat at the table, her hands folded delicately in her lap, eyes darting from one person to the next, trying to ignore the awkward silence that hovered between her and her new husband. Azriel sat across from her, his dark gaze scanning the room, occasionally landing on the various important figures in attendance, but y/n couldn’t help but notice how often his eyes strayed toward the back of the room, where a specific female stood with her family.

The sight of her made something sharp twist in y/n's chest, but she quickly pushed it away, focusing on the table in front of her, pretending she couldn’t care less.

It wasn’t that she hated Azriel—it was that she didn’t know him. And that lack of connection, that strange void between them, made the air thick and suffocating. She had never wanted this marriage. She had never wanted to be here in this alien city, surrounded by people who treated her like she was nothing more than a political pawn. But her family had made it clear—this union was for the good of Hybern, for the future of their lands.

And here I am, she thought bitterly, a trophy for a king’s game.

Across the room, Rhysand and her father stood deep in conversation, along with other key players from various courts. The laughter of her mother rang in the air, loud and unrestrained, as if she didn’t have a care in the world, completely oblivious to the fact that her daughter was not only married to a stranger but a stranger she loathed.

Y/n let out a slow breath. The only thing keeping her tethered to this wretched night was the fact that it would soon be over. She’d play her part, show her obedience, and then leave for Hybern with her family. She’d never have to see this place again.

Her gaze flicked back to Azriel, who hadn’t spoken a word to her all night, his attention still fixed on his surroundings. She was sure he hadn’t even noticed her—hell, he probably didn’t care. He didn’t need to care. She was nothing to him.

His gaze flickered again, this time lingering for an uncomfortable moment on that beautiful female, who was laughing softly with a group of friends. Y/n clenched her jaw.

His eyes lingered on her for too long.

She leaned forward, a flash of sarcasm lacing her voice. “Any mistresses I should know about?” she asked, her tone sharp.

Azriel didn’t flinch at her words. He simply raised an eyebrow and slowly turned his head toward her, his expression as cold and unreadable as ever.

“What do you mean?” he asked, his voice low and measured, as if the question didn’t even warrant his full attention.

Y/n’s eyes narrowed. “You seem to be spending an awful lot of time looking at her. You wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong impression, would you?” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm, though the sting of jealousy in her chest was something she refused to acknowledge.

Azriel’s gaze hardened for a moment, before his lips quirked into a barely-there smirk. “You’re paranoid.”

“Am I?” Y/n’s voice was sweetly venomous. “You’re making it hard not to be. I don’t know—maybe it’s just the way you look at her. A little too... familiar.”

His eyes flicked to her, momentarily narrowing, and for a moment, it almost looked like he was about to respond. But then his gaze slid away, scanning the room once more, seemingly uninterested in the conversation.

Y/n’s chest tightened. She wasn’t sure if the reaction stung more because of how indifferent he was to her or because of how right she had been.

A beat of silence passed between them, the music and laughter from the other guests growing louder in the background. But it was as though they were in a vacuum, isolated in their own bitter little world.

Azriel finally leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “You wouldn’t know anything about what I do or who I look at. But I’m sure you’ll be fine with it. You’ve got bigger things to worry about than what I do.”

The words were soft, but they hit her like a slap.

Y/N’s heart stuttered, but she didn’t let it show. She maintained her icy composure, the mask of indifference firmly in place. Don’t show him it hurts, she reminded herself.

With a quick inhale, she forced a small smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes. “Of course. You’re right. Why would I care?”

Azriel’s eyes flickered over her face, the hint of satisfaction lingering in his gaze, before he straightened up in his seat, seemingly satisfied with the exchange.

But y/n wasn’t done. She wasn’t about to let him think he’d won. Her voice was light, though the edge of bitterness was unmistakable. “Besides,” she added, glancing toward the door where her mother was speaking to her father, “I’m sure we’ll both find a way to keep ourselves entertained, won’t we?”

Azriel didn’t respond right away. His jaw tightened, and for a fleeting moment, she saw something in his eyes—a flicker of regret or perhaps something else entirely—but it was gone as quickly as it had come.

His attention shifted once more, and she knew he was back to his familiar indifference. Nothing new there, she thought bitterly.

As the night dragged on, the cold silence between them continued to settle over their table, only punctuated by the occasional sound of laughter or polite conversation. Y/n’s thoughts were still spinning, and she couldn’t shake the feeling of distance that loomed between them, both of them trapped in their roles, pretending they didn’t mind the inevitable.

Eventually, the night ended with little fanfare, and the room began to empty, guests trickling out one by one. But for y/n, the bitter taste of the evening lingered.

Her marriage, so far, had been nothing more than a hollow agreement. And nothing Azriel did—or didn’t do—was going to change that.

The house, the one Rhysand had gifted them, loomed large and grand, every corner gleaming with wealth and status. The grand chandelier hanging above them reflected the dim candlelight, casting shadows that felt like a warning. As they stepped inside, Y/N’s eyes scanned the space, noting the pristine perfection of their new home. She was supposed to feel some sense of pride, some excitement. But all she felt was suffocated, like she was drowning in a sea of expectations and lies.

The door clicked shut behind them, the sound so final it made her chest tighten.

Azriel was already walking toward the center of the room, his eyes flicking over the ornate furniture with the same disinterest he’d shown the entire night. The coldness between them, built on a foundation of mutual disdain, settled heavier in the air than anything else.

Y/n lingered in the doorway, her hands clasped together in front of her, unsure of what to do, how to react. Her wedding gown, so carefully crafted, felt like a prison around her. It was beautiful, intricate, but it was also a reminder of how far she had fallen, how deeply trapped she was in this life.

Azriel turned, his back to her now, as if he couldn’t care less.

But then, a sound from him—a low, deliberate sigh—snapped her attention to him.

He finally spoke, his voice colder than the night air outside. “Let’s get one thing straight,” he said, not bothering to look at her, his tone clipped. “This is a political marriage. I don’t like you. You don’t like me. And we both know it. So, don’t try to play any games or pretend that we’re anything more than this.”

Y/n stood frozen, her heart sinking with every word. “You think I don’t know that?” she replied, her voice icy, matching his. “I’m not here because I want to be. But I also don’t need a lecture on the obvious.”

Azriel didn’t flinch at her words, his back still turned to her. “Good. Then we’re clear. This union is for show. We present ourselves as a united, happy couple in public. But behind closed doors, you do whatever you want. I do whatever I want. We keep this civil—nothing more, nothing less.”

Y/n’s chest tightened. She didn’t want to think about him being with someone else, didn’t want to think about the reality of their arrangement. But her anger flickered, and she let it out with a bitter laugh. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? I already knew that much. You don’t have to tell me how little I matter to you. It’s obvious.”

Azriel turned then, his gaze sharp and calculating. The shadows in his eyes deepened, giving him a dangerous look. His jaw tightened, his voice dropping an octave. “Good. Glad we’re on the same page.”

Y/n’s eyes met his, and for a moment, she saw something in them—a flicker of something raw. But it was gone before she could understand it.

“Fine,” she said, her voice low. “I get it. Just… don’t think I’m going to pretend this is anything more than what it is.”

Azriel’s lips twisted into a half-smirk, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I wouldn’t expect you to. Neither am I.”

Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away, the sound of his boots echoing in the silence that followed.

Y/n stayed where she was, watching him walk away, a cold chill creeping over her skin. For a long moment, she didn’t move. She couldn’t. The weight of what had just transpired—the realization of how empty and hollow this marriage was—settled in her chest like a stone.

Her gaze dropped to the floor, and she took in a deep breath. The gown she wore felt suffocating now, the layers of fabric a painful reminder of the reality she had been thrust into.

She had known this wouldn’t be easy. She had known it would be cold and ruthless, but this—this level of isolation—hadn’t really hit her until now.

Azriel had left her standing in the hallway of their new home, alone with her thoughts. The grand mansion around her suddenly felt more like a gilded cage, and the silence of the night pressed down on her with an almost suffocating force.

Her fingers brushed the delicate lace of her gown, and she swallowed the knot in her throat.

This was it. This was her life now.

It wasn’t just a marriage. It was a trap. A game she had no choice but to play, and no matter how much she hated it, she would have to live it.

She turned toward the stairs, her gaze lingering one last time on the darkened hallway ahead.

It was then that the full weight of the situation settled in. She wasn’t just married to a stranger—she was bound to him in a way that no amount of anger could break.

And as she made her way to her room, the realization slowly crushed her under its weight: This would be hell.

---------

It had been a week since the wedding.

One week, and nothing had changed.

There was no warmth between them, no attempts to make this political arrangement bearable. If anything, the silence between them was thicker now, colder. Azriel couldn’t even bring himself to look at her for too long. Every time their paths crossed, he averted his gaze, unwilling to engage.

They hadn’t eaten together once, not a single meal. They were simply two bodies coexisting in the same house, but their lives were on separate tracks. She stayed in her quarters, and he in his. There was no need to speak, no reason to acknowledge each other. They both understood that.

There had been no words about the marriage, about the bond they were supposedly meant to share. No apologies, no pleasantries. Just cold indifference. Azriel hadn’t made the effort to ask how she was doing, and he had no intention of doing so. He didn’t care. He couldn’t.

He wasn’t sure why it bothered him, though. Why, in the back of his mind, something seemed to twist whenever he thought of her. Maybe it was because she was a reminder of everything he loathed—everything that made him feel trapped. But that didn’t change the fact that this wasn’t what he wanted.

It was easier this way. Easier to pretend she didn’t exist.

The days had been long, every minute spent avoiding his new wife. He still couldn't fathom how he'd gotten to this point. How he'd ended up in this forced marriage, trapped in an arrangement he hadn’t chosen. But what could he do? He had no choice. Neither of them did.

As he brooded in the garden, lost in his thoughts, a soft, familiar voice broke through his reverie.

"Azriel," Elain said gently, the sound of her footsteps approaching him.

He didn’t look up at first. He could feel her presence—warm, steady, and completely opposite of everything he felt. But Elain didn’t mind. She never did. She never pushed him for more than he was willing to give.

“I thought you might be out here,” she continued, her voice soft, but there was something in it—concern, maybe, or the hint of something deeper, something Azriel couldn’t quite place.

He finally turned his head, looking up at her. Her brown hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, and her eyes were filled with that ever-present sadness, the one she never let go of. Azriel hated it, hated that she was so full of quiet pain, but it was something he couldn’t fix. Not that he ever had the right to. He wasn’t that person anymore.

“You’re still upset about the wedding?” he asked, his voice more strained than he intended.

Elain sat beside him on the bench, her delicate fingers brushing against his arm in a familiar gesture. There was no hesitation, no need for words between them—they understood each other in a way no one else could. But there was something else in her touch today. A softness that felt almost too intimate, too raw.

“No,” she replied after a pause. Her eyes were sad, but she was trying to smile, trying to hide it. “It’s just... everything. It’s hard to pretend everything’s fine when it’s not.” She glanced at him, her gaze lingering for a moment before she looked away, her hands clasping together in her lap.

Azriel swallowed, the knot in his stomach tightening. He knew exactly what she meant. She had her own burdens to carry, her own emotional chains to bear. But right now, there was something more pressing.

“Have you seen her?” Elain’s voice broke the silence between them, as though she could read his mind.

Azriel’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he avoided looking at her. "Who?" he asked, his tone clipped. He already knew the answer, but he needed to hear it.

“Your wife,” Elain said quietly, the words dripping with the faintest edge of something Azriel couldn’t quite place. A stab of something too deep to decipher.

He felt his heart lurch. His mind drifted to the cold, empty halls of the estate. To her—y/n—always staying in her rooms, always keeping her distance.

"No," he replied flatly, his voice colder than he intended. "I haven't seen her. I don’t... need to."

Elain’s gaze lingered on him for a moment before she leaned in slightly, her voice lowering. “You can’t pretend she doesn’t exist, Azriel. You’re married to her. You need to at least try.”

Azriel turned to face her now, his anger bubbling up, but he bit it back. “I don’t owe her anything, Elain. This marriage is nothing. It’s a political arrangement, nothing more. There’s no pretending it’s something else."

His voice was tight, and he could feel the tension in his chest, the gnawing emptiness that only seemed to grow whenever he thought about her. Y/n. His wife. The one he couldn’t even bring himself to look at for too long.

“You don’t owe her anything, but she’s still your wife,” Elain said softly, her words more resigned than accusing. “And that’s something, whether you like it or not.”

Azriel didn’t respond at first, his gaze turning once again to the flowers in the garden. The peace in the air was deceiving. He hated it. The fact that everything around him seemed so serene while everything inside him was falling apart.

“Why are you here, Elain?” he asked quietly, not unkindly.

She met his gaze, her eyes soft. “Because you need someone, Azriel. And I... I don’t want you to be alone. I never want that for you.”

Her words hung in the air like a heavy weight. Azriel didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure he even deserved her kindness, but it felt good to hear it.

Before he could speak again, a gust of wind blew through the garden, rustling the leaves and carrying the faintest scent of saltwater from the distant ocean. It was a fleeting moment of calm, and then he felt the gentle pressure of Elain’s hand on his arm once more, reminding him that she was still there, still offering something he wasn’t sure he deserved.

He could have spoken. He could have said that instead of y/n, it should have been Elain who walked down the aisle towards him. How she is the only one whom he will ever feel this way for. But for some reason, there was a tiny voice in his mind that just didn't allow him to.

So, instead of responding, he remained silent, lost in the quiet chaos of his thoughts. The flowers bloomed around him, and yet everything felt frozen, as if even the seasons were trapped in time. Just like him.

--------

Y/n sat by the window, staring out at the vast expanse of the estate's gardens below. The flowers swayed gently in the wind, their colors a sharp contrast to the grayness that had settled over her heart. She wasn’t sure how many days it had been since the wedding, but each one felt the same. Empty. Unchanging.

Her fingers traced the edge of the windowsill, the cool stone grounding her as she tried to steady herself. She had been given this life, this title, this... marriage. But it had never been what she expected.

The sounds of the estate—footsteps in the halls, distant voices, the occasional laughter—were muffled to her ears. Everything felt distant, as though she were watching her life from behind a thick pane of glass. She had tried to reach out, tried to break the silence with Azriel, but he never acknowledged her, never let her in. They had been strangers before the wedding, and now... now, she didn’t even know what to call their relationship.

Y/n didn’t know how much longer she could pretend. She wasn’t just some political pawn. She had her own life, her own dreams before this. But those felt like a distant memory now, swallowed up by the reality of her new world.

She leaned her forehead against the cold glass, watching the sun set slowly over the horizon. The light dimmed, the world outside growing darker with every passing second. It felt... fitting.

A soft knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

Y/n didn't move at first. She didn’t need to answer. She already knew who it was. They’d all come to check on her once or twice, as if her silence was something to be fixed. But she wasn’t broken.

Another knock, more insistent this time, pulled her from her reverie. With a resigned sigh, she stood and crossed the room, opening the door just wide enough to see the person standing on the other side.

It was Nesta.

She stood there, arms crossed, her gaze sharp and unreadable. The tension in the air was thick, but it wasn’t just from Nesta’s presence. It was the weight of the expectations—expectations that Y/n didn’t care to meet. Not anymore.

"I thought I'd find you here," Nesta said, her tone a little colder than Y/n expected, though there was a sharpness to it that was unmistakable. She didn’t wait for an invitation before stepping inside.

Y/n barely moved as Nesta brushed past her and into the room. She closed the door quietly behind them, leaning against it as her eyes studied the woman before her.

"I’m not locked away," Y/n said flatly, her voice distant, though the words felt empty as soon as they left her mouth. She wasn’t lying, but at the same time, she wasn’t being entirely truthful. She was locked away—locked away by her own choices, by the distance that had grown between her and everything else in this house. Including Azriel.

Nesta didn’t bother with pleasantries. "Cassian sent me," she said bluntly. "He’s concerned because he hasn’t seen you leave this room in days. We barely see your face around here. You and that new husband of yours seem to be avoiding our gatherings."

Y/n’s eyes flickered to the floor, the words landing with a dull thud. She wasn’t sure what she expected—maybe a little more empathy, or at least a hint of warmth. But this was Nesta. Cold, direct, and unyielding. Just like everyone else in this court.

"Tell Cassian I’m fine," Y/n replied, her voice losing even more of its life with each passing second. "I’m just... adjusting."

"Adjusting?" Nesta scoffed, her tone turning more biting. "You’re barely even talking to anyone. It’s been a week since the wedding, and you’ve barely left this room." She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing as she studied Y/n’s face. "You’re not adjusting. You’re hiding."

Y/n didn’t flinch at Nesta’s words. She had heard it before, from Azriel and from the rest of the family. They couldn’t understand. They wouldn’t understand. How could they? They were all in different worlds, living different lives.

"I’m not hiding," Y/n repeated, her voice taking on a sharp edge. "I just don’t see the point in pretending things are fine when they aren’t."

Nesta seemed to take a moment before responding. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. "You’re right. Things aren’t fine. But that doesn’t mean you have to stay stuck in this... this misery. Azriel’s not going to change overnight. None of us expect that from him. But you can change. You can stop hiding."

Y/n’s eyes flicked to the ground, her jaw tight, and her heart twisted in a way she didn’t want to examine. "What do you want me to do? Go back to the life I had before? Pretend everything’s fine? Pretend I’m not married to a man who won’t even look at me?"

Nesta didn’t flinch at her words. Instead, she simply crossed her arms and regarded her with a steady gaze. "No. I’m not asking you to pretend. But hiding away like this won’t fix anything, y/n. Cassian wants you to stop isolating yourself. I think you need it, too."

Y/n’s gaze flickered over to Nesta, her expression a mix of frustration and disbelief. "You don’t understand," she muttered.

Nesta turned on her heel to leave, but before she did, she spoke again. "Don’t hide forever, y/n. You might not be able to change everything, but you can change this."

And with that, she was gone, leaving Y/n alone in the stillness of the room once more.

The silence closed in again, more suffocating than before. Y/n leaned her back against the door, her thoughts spiraling as the weight of Nesta’s words sank in. Maybe she was hiding. Maybe she was running from the life she had been given. But what choice did she have? What else was there for her in this house, in this life?

As she stood there, the darkness outside pressing in on the walls of the room, she knew Nesta was right about one thing—she couldn’t keep disappearing. But that didn’t mean she had any idea of how to stop.

-------

Two weeks into this miserable excuse of a marriage, and Azriel was still no closer to understanding how to make it work. The silence between him and y/n was deafening. Every word he tried to say felt like it would only widen the gap between them, and each glance he shot her way was met with nothing but cold indifference. She kept her distance, and he made sure to do the same.

Yet, in the quiet moments when he lay awake at night, his mind wandered to thoughts he couldn’t control. Thoughts of Elain. Of his real bond, the one that mattered. He had promised himself that he’d never let anything or anyone get in the way of that, especially not a woman he barely knew, one he had been forced into this union with.

But still... there were moments when something stirred in him, a fleeting feeling, a hesitation he could never quite place.

As he passed the dining hall, he heard the soft clink of silverware against china. His gaze flicked toward the open door, and he froze when he saw her. Y/n. Sitting at the table, alone.

It was always like this now. Y/n had taken to eating alone, isolating herself more and more. It wasn’t the kind of thing Azriel was used to—seeing anyone, especially someone he was bound to, so entirely separate from the rest of the world. But in that moment, as she sat there in solitude, his irritation boiled over.

She didn’t even look up when he entered the room, as if she had known he’d be here. Her gaze remained fixed on the food in front of her, the flickering candlelight casting soft shadows on her features. She might as well have been a ghost in the room.

"Is this how it’s going to be?" he asked, his voice sharp, his patience wearing thin.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t respond immediately, and for a moment, Azriel wondered if she even cared enough to acknowledge him. Finally, her eyes slid up to meet his, the coldness in them matching his own.

"Is what how it’s going to be?" she asked, her tone just as frosty, but there was a sharpness to it that was impossible to ignore.

Azriel let out a frustrated sigh, his wings twitching behind him as he stepped further into the room. "You’re avoiding everyone. I mean, I did say we don't need to acknowledge each other but not my fucking family too! You don’t even bother to show up for dinner with the others. What is this, Y/n? Is this some form of... rebellion?" His words were laced with more anger than he had intended, but at this point, he wasn’t sure if it was the silence, the tension, or something deeper gnawing at him.

She picked up her glass of wine and took a slow sip, as though he hadn’t even spoken. "Maybe I just enjoy my own company more than yours," she said dryly, setting the glass down without taking her eyes off him.

The words stung, though Azriel would never admit it. His jaw tightened, but for some reason, he didn’t leave. He didn’t turn away like he normally would. Something about the solitude in the room, the quiet, was oddly compelling. He should walk away. Go back to his responsibilities. Back to Elain.

But he didn’t.

"Fine," he muttered, pulling out a chair across from her. "I’ll stay for dinner. Don’t get used to it."

Y/n didn’t seem to care either way. She simply resumed cutting her food, the silence between them once again stretching thick and heavy.

As they ate, the conversation remained stiff at first, barely anything beyond a few biting remarks and cold stares. Azriel kept his focus on his plate, only offering brief glances at y/n. Her presence, though distant, seemed to wrap itself around him in ways he couldn’t escape.

"You know," she said, breaking the silence at last, "you don’t have to stay, Azriel. It’s not like you care to be here."

The words were blunt, but there was a certain weariness behind them that made Azriel pause. He looked up sharply, ready to snap back, but found something different in her eyes. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t contempt. It was... exhaustion.

"What’s your point?" he asked, his voice low, though his anger was fading, replaced by something else—something he didn’t want to examine.

Her gaze softened for just a moment. "You’re here because you feel obligated. We both know it. So why don’t we just call it what it is and stop pretending?"

Azriel’s stomach twisted. He looked away, unwilling to confront the raw truth she was offering. "I’m not pretending," he bit out. "I don’t have time for games."

"No," she agreed, her tone quiet but cutting. "You don’t. Neither of us do."

The conversation slipped into an uneasy silence, one that felt far less hostile than the ones before. They both ate in a strange truce, their proximity and shared space creating a tension that neither of them knew how to deal with.

Azriel’s mind drifted—back to Elain. To the bond he shared with her, the one that was real. Yet, even as the thought settled in, a small, almost imperceptible crack appeared in his carefully constructed wall. Y/n’s presence, her voice, even her sharpness had gotten under his skin in a way he didn’t want to admit.

And just as quickly as it had softened, the moment was over.

"Enough," Azriel said, standing up abruptly and pushing his chair back. "This was a mistake."

Y/n didn’t even flinch, her eyes already closed as if she’d anticipated his reaction. "Yes. It was."

Azriel’s wings twitched as he moved to leave the room, but as he passed the door, he hesitated. He couldn’t quite explain why, but the brief, fragile moment they’d shared had lodged itself in his mind, and for the first time in weeks, his thoughts of Elain became... blurred.

It wasn’t enough to change anything. But it was something.

-------

Y/n stood in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection as she adjusted the neckline of the dress. Three weeks into this marriage, and it still felt like she was wearing someone else’s life. The faint scent of lavender in the room did nothing to calm her racing thoughts.

She hated this. Hated the constant pretending. Hated that she was walking into Rhysand and Feyre’s home tonight as though everything was fine, as though she was part of their world. She was no more than a pawn in a game she hadn’t signed up for. A foreigner trapped in a world she didn't understand.

The Hybern enemies were now her supposed allies. Her chest tightened at the thought. How hilarious. How utterly fucking ridiculous.

Y/n smoothed the fabric down, unable to shake the weight of the mask she had to wear for the evening. Her life—her past—felt like a distant memory now. She was a stranger in her own skin, wearing the title of wife with no meaning behind it. Azriel, the man she was wed to, never looked at her. Never spoke to her unless absolutely necessary.

Her eyes flickered to the door. She didn’t want to be here, but it was too late to back out now.

The carriage ride to Rhysand and Feyre’s estate had been silent, save for the distant sound of the horses’ hooves and the occasional soft rustling of the wind. Azriel had been beside her, of course, but his presence was as cold as the space between them. Neither of them had spoken, and she had been more than content with that.

Apparently he thought it would be better to go this way rather than to fly her in his arms because that was just too....intimate. And she agreed.

As they entered Rhysand’s home, she couldn’t help but notice how alive it was. Laughter echoed through the halls, the warmth of family and friendship surrounding her. Yet, y/n felt none of that warmth. She felt like an outsider, like a ghost drifting through a place she didn’t belong.

The table was set, and everyone was already seated, talking and laughing. The moment she entered the room, their conversation quieted, but y/n barely noticed. Rhysand gave her a welcoming nod, and Feyre offered a smile, but it felt like nothing more than a formality.

Azriel pulled out the chair beside her, but didn’t speak. He sat down with his usual air of detachment, his eyes already flickering to the female who was named Elain, who was seated across from him. She looked at him with such warmth, her eyes soft, her smile effortless. It made Y/n’s stomach churn.

They were so familiar with each other. So easy in their connection. Elain reached across the table to adjust Azriel’s plate, her fingers brushing his hand just for a second. Y/n’s breath caught in her throat, but she quickly swallowed the surge of anger rising within her.

Focus, she told herself, trying to breathe through it.

They were happy. They had every right to be happy. She wasn’t a part of this, not really. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to be.

But it stung, nonetheless. She was his wife. Given, in name only but still.

The conversation flowed around her, but y/n found it hard to participate. Every word, every shared laugh, every glance exchanged between Azriel and Elain felt like a jab in her chest. Her stomach twisted as they continued to speak in their familiar way, each moment a reminder that she was the outsider.

She pushed her food around her plate, not really hungry, but unable to force herself to eat. She couldn’t stomach the thought of food while her thoughts spiraled. Every laugh, every smile from the others felt like a reminder of how alone she was in this room. She had nothing in common with any of them. And as for Azriel...

Azriel.

He barely acknowledged her. Not that she expected him to. But every time he spoke to Elain, it was as if y/n didn’t even exist. He didn’t look at her, didn’t speak to her, as if she was just another piece of furniture in the room.

It was almost too much to bear.

The moment came when Elain reached over to touch Azriel’s arm, laughing at something he said, her fingers grazing his skin in a way that made y/n’s heart ache.

Y/n stood up abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. The sudden movement caught everyone’s attention, but Y/n didn’t care. She wasn’t going to sit there anymore, pretending to be part of this farce. She had enough.

"Excuse me," she muttered, her voice sharp, betraying none of the hurt she was feeling. She wasn’t going to let them see it. Not when they didn’t care, when Azriel didn’t care.

Azriel’s eyes flickered up to her, confusion crossing his features for a moment before he quickly masked it with indifference. He said nothing. None of them did. They just watched her leave the table.

Y/n walked out of the dining room, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t know where she was going, but she had to get out. She needed air. She needed to breathe.

The cool night air hit her as she stepped into the hall, the silence of the house almost suffocating. She needed to leave. Now.

She turned the corner, her breath catching in her throat.

“Y/n,” came a voice from behind her.

It was Cassian.

He stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

“Are you alright?” he asked, concern in his voice, though he kept a safe distance.

Y/n stiffened, her hands clenched at her sides.

“I just need to go home,” she said, her voice cold. “Send me home.”

Cassian hesitated for a moment, looking past her toward the others in the dining room. Then he nodded, walking toward her.

“Alright,” he said, his tone gentler than she expected. “I’ll take you back.”

Y/n didn’t speak as they left the house, the silence between them heavy. All she wanted was to be away from them, away from the family she would never belong to.

When they reached the gates, Cassian turned to her. “You don’t have to do this, you know. You don’t have to isolate yourself.”

Y/n stiffened, not trusting herself to respond.

“Just... think about it,” Cassian said quietly, before walking away.

Y/n watched him go, her heart still heavy with the unspoken words between them. She turned back toward the house, feeling the coldness of the night settle in her bones.

Inside, Azriel would remain with his family. With Elain.

And she would be alone. Again.

---------

Azriel paced the length of Rhysand’s study, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared out the window. Four weeks. Four fucking weeks since the wedding, and nothing had changed. The silence between him and Y/n had only deepened. They were as distant as two strangers, trapped in a marriage neither of them had asked for.

But what else could he do? He had tried. He’d tried to give her space, tried to keep his distance, tried to ignore the way his mind kept drifting back to her. To the way she looked when she walked into a room, or how she had stood up and left the dinner table that night. But none of it mattered. She hated him. And he had every reason to hate her too. She was a foreigner in his world, someone who didn’t belong here.

“Rhys,” Azriel said, his voice low as he turned to face his brother, who was lounging behind his desk, eyes gleaming with that trademark amusement.

Rhys raised an eyebrow, knowing immediately where this was going. “What is it now? Another request for a solo mission?”

Azriel gritted his teeth, frustration clawing at his chest. He couldn’t do it anymore—being stuck in that house with her. Being stuck with the constant reminder that he was married to someone he didn’t even know. And it wasn’t like he was allowed to go out and do his usual work without being burdened by her presence.

“I need a mission, Rhys,” Azriel muttered, pacing again. “I can’t stay there with her. I can’t keep pretending like everything’s fine. Like we’re not just two people forced into this. I’m asking you to send me away. Please.”

Rhysand chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair as he watched Azriel’s tense movements. “You sure? Because the last time I saw the two of you together, you looked anything but hateful.”

Azriel froze mid-step, his heart skipping a beat. The words hit him like a punch, knocking the wind out of him. He hadn’t expected Rhys to say that. He’d kept his distance, kept his eyes off her as much as possible, but he couldn’t shake the truth in his brother’s words. He hadn’t seen the way he had looked at her—hadn’t noticed the way she had glanced at him when she thought no one was watching. They were still strangers, but those brief moments... they had felt different.

Azriel scowled, shaking his head to rid himself of the thoughts swirling in his mind. “You’re wrong. There’s nothing between us. I don’t even see her as my wife. I don’t want anything to do with her.”

Rhys’s gaze softened, but there was still a glimmer of humor behind his eyes. “You keep saying that, but the way I see it, you’re lying to yourself. I’ve seen the way you look at her. You can’t even hide it from me, Az. I know you.”

Azriel growled under his breath, but his brother’s words were like tiny shards of ice, piercing through the walls he’d spent years building around his heart. He couldn’t allow himself to feel. He couldn’t let himself think that maybe, just maybe, Rhys was right.

“You’re out of your mind,” Azriel muttered, taking a step back. “I don’t feel anything for her. I’m just stuck in this mess because you insisted on this ridiculous marriage.”

Rhys leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk. His voice was quieter now, but there was a sharpness to it that made Azriel pause. “You can lie to me all you want, but you can’t lie to yourself, Azriel. I know what I saw. And I’m telling you this because you’re my brother. Whatever this is between you two, it’s not going away just because you pretend it doesn’t exist.”

Azriel clenched his fists, his body tight with anger. “I don’t need your advice, Rhys.”

Rhys’s lips quirked up, but there was something more sincere in his gaze now. “I’m not giving advice. I’m telling you what I see. You’ve got two choices: face whatever it is you’re feeling, or keep running from it. But running won’t make it go away.”

Azriel’s mind raced, and he wanted to scream at Rhys, tell him to stop reading him like an open book, but he couldn’t find the words. He couldn’t even look Rhys in the eye for fear that his brother would see through all of his lies.

Instead, he let out a long breath, pushing past the thoughts that threatened to overwhelm him. “So what do you want me to do?”

Rhys’s expression was unreadable as he leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers together. “You’re going to stay with your wife, Azriel. I’m not sending you away on some mission. You need to work this out. You need to talk to her. But I know you won’t, so I’ll tell you this: You’re not as alone as you think you are. But you’ve got to stop pretending everything’s fine when it’s not.”

Azriel’s throat tightened at the implication. He didn’t want to hear this. Didn’t want to acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, Rhys was right.

“Fine,” Azriel spat, turning toward the door. “I’ll stay. But don’t expect me to like it.”

As his hand gripped the door handle, Rhys’s voice stopped him. “Az,” he said quietly. “Attraction isn’t always easy. But pretending it doesn’t exist? That’s even harder.”

Azriel stood there, frozen, the words echoing in his mind like a haunting whisper. Slowly, he turned to face his brother. “I’m not pretending. I don’t feel anything for her.”

Rhys’s gaze softened, but there was a glint of something that made Azriel’s heart pound. “We both know that’s not true. But it’s your choice, Azriel. I’m just telling you—don’t waste the time you’ve got.”

The weight of Rhys’s words lingered long after he had left the study. Azriel’s mind spun, and for the first time in a long while, his walls cracked just enough for doubt to seep through.

------------

The soft clink of porcelain against porcelain was the only sound filling the quiet, drawing Y/n’s gaze to the cup in front of her. Feyre had insisted she join her for tea—something about “breaking the ice” between them, as if it were that simple. But Y/n knew it was just another attempt to draw her into the circle, to make her feel like she belonged in their world. She didn’t. And she never would.

Y/n’s fingers tightened around the teacup, her knuckles going white as she stared at the swirling liquid, her mind a million miles away. The air in the room was thick with forced civility, and y/n hated it. The delicate sitting room with its cushioned chairs and soft lighting made her skin crawl. It was all a facade. Pretend. She didn’t belong here, and they knew it. Feyre knew it.

“Y/n,” Feyre said, breaking the silence, her voice warm, but still laced with that underlying curiosity. “I know this might not be the easiest thing for you... but I want you to feel at home here, even if just for a little while.”

Y/n’s lips twitched into something that might’ve been mistaken for a smile if one didn’t pay close attention to the coldness in her eyes. “At home?” she repeated flatly, her voice laced with distaste. “That’s funny. I don’t think this house will ever feel like home to me.”

Feyre didn't react to the bite in her tone, her expression steady and patient, as if she were used to it by now. “You’re Azriel’s wife now,” Feyre said, more matter-of-fact than anything else. “You’re part of this family, whether you want to be or not.”

Y/n’s gaze sharpened as she finally looked up, meeting Feyre’s eyes across the table. She let the words hang in the air for a moment, the weight of them settling in her chest. Part of this family. The irony tasted bitter on her tongue. A family she had no stake in. A family she would never be a part of. Not really. She could play the part, sit here, sip tea, and pretend for as long as she needed to, but that didn’t mean she would ever truly be one of them.

“Right,” she muttered, trying to rein in the simmering frustration that was starting to bubble up. “Azriel’s wife.” She forced the words out as if they didn’t sting every time she said them.

Feyre didn’t seem to pick up on the bitterness in Y/n’s tone, or maybe she just didn’t care. She leaned back in her chair, eyes still on Y/n, her expression more thoughtful now.

“How have you been adjusting to everything?” Feyre asked, her voice gentle. It almost sounded like a question of genuine concern, though Y/n knew better. Feyre wasn’t asking to truly understand; she was asking because she had to.

“Fine,” Y/n replied, her voice cold and clipped. “It’s only been a month, after all.”

Feyre nodded, her eyes flickering to the side for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts. “I understand that it’s not easy. I know Azriel can be… difficult. But he’s a good person, Y/n. He’s been through a lot.”

Y/n’s eyes narrowed, a small laugh escaping her lips. “Good person?” she repeated, her voice taking on a mocking edge. “That’s one way to put it.”

Feyre didn’t flinch. Instead, she leaned forward slightly, her tone shifting, becoming more serious. “I know this whole thing isn’t what you expected. And I can’t pretend to understand what you’re feeling. But I’ve seen the way you look at Azriel. I know it’s hard to… accept everything right now. But he’s not the enemy.”

Y/n’s eyes flicked up sharply, but before she could reply, Feyre continued, her words flowing like water, too fast to interrupt.

“And I know you don’t want to hear this,” Feyre said softly, almost regretfully, “but Elain—Azriel and Elain—there’s something between them. Even now. They can't stay away from one another, no matter what.”

Y/n froze. The words hit her like a physical blow, and for a moment, her vision blurred as a wave of something unrecognizable washed over her—resentment, jealousy, pain? She didn’t know, but it made her stomach twist. She quickly masked it, but Feyre had already seen the flicker in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Feyre added, her voice sincere but firm. “I know you’re married to him, but that’s the truth. Elain has her mate, and Azriel is now married to you, but… there’s something between them, something deeper than either of them can deny.”

Y/n’s grip tightened on her teacup, and she forced her voice to remain steady, even though everything inside her was screaming. “And what does that have to do with me?” she asked, her words clipped, her tone biting.

Feyre didn’t back down. “It has everything to do with you, Y/n. Whether you like it or not, this situation—this marriage—was never just about the two of you. Elain is a part of Azriel’s life, and you’re caught in the middle of it. I’m sorry.” Her words were almost too soft, too apologetic, and it made Y/n want to lash out.

Y/n stood abruptly, pushing her chair back with a screech that echoed through the room. “I don’t need your pity, Feyre,” she spat, her heart racing. “I never did.”

She didn’t give Feyre a chance to respond. She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, the sound of Feyre’s voice calling after her—soft, apologetic, and full of regret—fading as she made her way down the hall.

She didn’t care.

Not about them. Not about Elain and Azriel. Not about Feyre or any of it.

But deep down, she couldn’t shake the nagging thought that something had shifted in her since that conversation. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she felt it, burning like a brand beneath her skin.

———-

Y/n sat alone in their shared home, the silence of the space pressing down on her like a weight she could barely lift. The walls seemed to close in as she glanced at the clock. Another evening without Azriel. Another day where the distance between them only seemed to grow.

It had been weeks, two months now, since the wedding—an event she had reluctantly accepted but had done nothing to erase the bitterness in her heart. She had promised herself that she wouldn’t let her emotions get the best of her, that she would remain indifferent. After all, this wasn’t a marriage born of love, and that was clear from the start.

But the constant tension in the house, the subtle glances between Azriel and Elain whenever they were in the same room, was enough to make her stomach churn with something that wasn’t hatred—something else, something more destructive.

She could never escape it. They were everywhere. Azriel with Elain. Elain with Azriel. It was like the universe kept reminding her of the one thing she couldn’t control.

With a sharp exhale, Y/n threw herself onto the couch, eyes closing in frustration. She could hear them in the hallway just outside. Their soft laughter, their quiet conversations.

Her hands clenched at her sides.

No. No more.

She stood, her heartbeat quickening as she made her way down the hall. She couldn’t keep pretending. Not anymore.

Azriel stood at the door to the study, his posture relaxed, leaning slightly against the doorframe as Elain spoke softly to him. They were close—too close. The sight of them made Y/n’s skin burn.

She took a step forward, and they both fell silent. Azriel’s eyes shifted to her, but he didn’t look surprised. He never did.

“You don’t have to pretend with me, Azriel,” Y/n’s voice cut through the silence, the coldness of her tone making the words sharper than she intended. “I know exactly what’s going on here.”

Azriel’s eyes hardened, a warning flashing in them, but Y/n didn’t care. She had spent the last month walking on eggshells, suppressing the growing anger that had been building inside her. She couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“You’re in love with her,” Y/n spat, her words filled with venom. “I don’t know why I even bother. All this time pretending like we’re somehow in this together. But you can’t even look at me without looking at her too.”

Elain shifted uncomfortably, but it was Azriel who spoke first. His voice was tight with restraint. “Y/n, not now.”

“Not now?” Y/n repeated, her voice rising. “I’m tired of pretending that you and I are some happy little couple when all you do is look at her like she’s the only person in this world. How stupid do you think I am? I’m not blind, Azriel. It’s pathetic.”

Azriel’s expression darkened, but he didn’t move. “That’s enough.”

“No, it’s not enough,” Y/n snapped, her eyes flashing with anger. “I’m not your fucking fool. You’re married to me, and you can’t even act like it. You can’t even look at me without thinking of her.”

There was a dangerous quiet in the air now. Azriel’s jaw clenched as he took a step toward her, his voice cold. “Watch your words, Y/n. I didn’t marry you because I wanted to. You think I don’t see the way you look at me? Don’t pretend like you’re innocent in all of this. We’re both stuck in this arrangement. Don’t make it more than it is.”

Y/n’s heart pounded in her chest. “I’m stuck in this arrangement?” she echoed, incredulity lacing her voice. “I never wanted this! You’re the one who’s in love with her, Azriel. I’m just a placeholder. You think I don’t see it? The way you and Elain look at each other when you think no one’s watching?”

“Stop it,” Azriel growled, his tone low and dangerous.

But Y/n didn’t stop. She had no intention of stopping now. All the feelings she had been burying, all the resentment and jealousy, came pouring out in a surge of anger she could no longer control. “It’s obvious, Azriel.You wish she was your mate. You’re just waiting for some godforsaken miracle to undo this marriage, and the whole time I’m stuck with you—with someone who doesn’t even want me.”

The words hung in the air like a spell, suffocating her, but she didn’t care. It was the truth, and for the first time, she didn’t bother pretending otherwise.

For a moment, there was only silence. Elain had stepped back, her eyes wide, but Azriel stood frozen in place, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and something unreadable.

Then he spoke, his voice low, edged with something close to fury. “I never asked for this either. Don’t act like you’re the only one suffering through it.”

Y/n’s chest heaved as she swallowed back the rising tide of emotions threatening to overtake her. “You think this is hard for you? You don’t even know what this feels like. I don’t care about the Hybern blood in me. I don’t care about your hatred for it. But I’m not stupid. And I’m done.”

Azriel opened his mouth to speak, but Y/n was already turning on her heel, storming out of the room before he could say anything. Her footsteps echoed in the hall, the weight of the argument heavy in the air.

As she slammed the door behind her, she leaned against it, her breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps.

Her heart was pounding, a mixture of fury and hurt boiling inside her. She had just exposed everything—the truth she had been holding in for so long. And she didn’t know if she felt better or worse for it.

The next day, Y/n didn’t care. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself. The argument with Azriel had been explosive, and she hadn’t bothered to check on him since. He was probably off somewhere with Elain, as usual, ignoring her existence in favor of someone who truly mattered to him.

And that was fine. She wasn’t about to play the part of the desperate, insecure wife. She didn’t care what he did, who he was with, or what he had to say. The venom in her words from last night still echoed in her mind, but she refused to acknowledge the small, gnawing feeling in her chest that told her maybe—just maybe—she had gone too far.

But no, she wasn’t going to do this. She wasn’t going to let herself soften for him. She’d learned a long time ago that there was nothing worth caring about in this world. So why bother?

The morning had been cold, and she had spent most of it in her room, staring out the window, watching the city go about its business below. Her thoughts had drifted, as they often did these days, from one dark corner of her mind to another. She couldn’t afford to linger on Azriel or Elain. She couldn’t afford to care about anything.

But as she pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders and left the house for a walk—just to clear her head—the air felt heavier than usual. There was something about the silence that seemed too still, too quiet.

She passed through the marketplace, her boots clicking on the cobblestones, ignoring the looks from the locals. The city was full of people, but in this moment, Y/n felt more alone than ever. She could feel the weight of the fight from last night still hovering over her, but it was easier to let it sit in the back of her mind while she focused on the mundane tasks of everyday life.

That was, until a shadow fell across her path.

Before she could even register what was happening, something hard pressed against her side, a sharp pain searing through her ribs. Her instincts screamed at her to fight, but it was too late. She barely had time to react before she was pulled into an alley, her body shoved roughly against the stone wall. The smell of sweat, damp earth, and something sour filled her nostrils, and she choked on the sudden rush of fear that flooded her veins.

Her heart pounded as she struggled, but the grip on her arms tightened. Her breath came in shallow gasps as she fought against the strong hands holding her still. She twisted, trying to break free, but the attackers were swift—too swift.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed through gritted teeth, her heart racing with adrenaline. But the men—two of them—said nothing. One of them simply pressed a cloth to her mouth, and before she could react, darkness closed in.

The world around her spun, and everything went black.

When Y/n came to, the first thing she noticed was the cold, damp stone beneath her. She was lying flat on her back, and the air smelled stale, like a forgotten cellar. Her head throbbed, and a dull ache spread across her temples. She blinked, trying to make sense of her surroundings, but the flickering light from a torch just ahead didn’t do much to illuminate the small, cramped room.

Panic surged through her as she sat up, her hands immediately reaching for her body, checking for any weapons. There were none. Her throat felt dry, and her mind raced with questions.

Where was she?

Why had they taken her?

And who were these people?

A soft clink of metal on stone made her pause. She looked up, eyes narrowing as she saw a shadow moving in the doorway of the room. It was hard to make out much in the dim light, but she could feel the eyes on her. The presence of someone… watching.

“Ah, you’re awake,” a voice said, smooth and cold, like it was used to power. A woman stepped into view, her features shadowed but unmistakably cruel. “You didn’t think you could just walk through our lands, did you?”

Y/n didn’t respond, her chest tight with the remnants of fear. She had been captured—no, taken—by people who didn’t want a Hybern bloodline anywhere near their territory. How ironic. They probably thought they were doing the world a favor, ridding the land of her existence.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, her eyes glinting with anger. “I have nothing to do with Hybern,” she spat, her voice hoarse from the struggle earlier.

The woman smiled coldly, circling around Y/n like a predator eyeing its prey. “You’re still part of that bloodline. And that makes you dangerous.”

Y/n glared at her, unwilling to let her see the fear she felt inside. “You’ll regret this.”

The woman laughed. “Maybe. But first, we have to make sure you’re… disappeared.”

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat. She knew what that meant. But she wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

----------

Azriel sat beside Elain, his hand resting on her back as she sobbed quietly into his chest. He tried to focus on her, on the comfort he had been offering her over the past few days, but it was difficult. His mind kept drifting back to Y/n—her words from yesterday, the way she had spat venom at him like it was second nature.

He could still hear the bite in her voice, the sting of every insult, every accusation. “I know we’re not going to acknowledge each other, but this is too much. You’re clearly in love with Elain.”

“I’m sorry, Elain,” he murmured again, but his voice lacked conviction. He was trying to soothe her, to ease the hurt between them, but the more he tried, the more he realized something was slipping through his fingers.

He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Y/n since their argument. Her words had cut him deeper than he wanted to admit, and no matter how many times he tried to push the thoughts away, they kept coming back.

Azriel shook his head, trying to focus on Elain, trying to push the thoughts of Y/n away. He didn’t want to admit it, not even to himself, but the truth was undeniable. The space between him and Elain had begun to feel… too much.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said softly, his hand still resting on Elain’s back as she wept in his arms. But even as the words left his mouth, he realized they didn’t feel true—not in the way they used to. He wasn’t sure if he was apologizing for his actions toward Elain or for his lack of real feeling.

Elain’s crying began to quiet, her sobs fading as she pulled back, looking up at him through tear-soaked lashes. “Azriel, please... don’t be angry at me.”

“I’m not angry with you,” he said, though the words felt hollow in his chest.

He wasn’t angry with Elain, but he was angry with himself. Angry for not knowing where his feelings lay, angry for the distance he felt between them now, and for the strange emptiness he couldn’t fill.

But it wasn’t just Elain’s tears that had him unsettled. It was Y/n’s absence. It was the sharpness of their argument and the way her eyes had looked at him—like she saw through him, saw the cracks in his walls.

Suddenly, there was a loud crash at the door, and Cassian’s voice broke through the thick air.

“Azriel, we have a problem.”

Azriel’s head snapped up, his body instantly coiling in tension as Cassian’s words hit him like a jolt of ice water. He barely registered Elain’s shocked gasp or her hands gripping his arms.

“Y/n… she’s been taken.”

The words sliced through him, the shock of it freezing him in place for a moment. But the second the panic set in, his instincts took over. He surged to his feet, wings snapping out in a violent, protective motion. His heart pounded, and for a moment, he couldn’t even process what was happening.

He looked down at Elain, but the sight of her trembling face barely registered. His mind was on one thing and one thing only now—Y/n. The feeling of her absence, the way her anger had consumed him just the day before, now transforming into something far more urgent.

“Where is my wife?” he demanded, his voice dark and low, as though some primal part of him had snapped into place.

Cassian, too, was already moving toward the door, but his expression was grim. “We don’t know. We’re trying to track her, but—”

“I don’t care!” Azriel shouted, his wings flaring with rage. “I’m not letting anyone take her. I’ll burn the world to the ground if I have to.”

He didn’t wait for Cassian’s response. Without another glance at Elain, Azriel turned on his heel and shot out the door, his mind fixated entirely on Y/n.

The world around him faded, and all that remained was the overwhelming need to find her. He could feel it, deep inside—a pull stronger than any duty, any obligation to Elain.

Y/n had been taken, and he wasn’t going to stop until she was back in his arms.

-----------

Y/n’s head ached. The dull throb behind her eyes was only amplified by the cold stone walls surrounding her, the darkness pressing in on every side. She didn’t know how long it had been since they’d taken her—time felt like it was slipping away in the disorienting silence, the hours blurring into one another as the isolation began to eat away at her.

She had been caught. Captured by those who feared her connection to Hybern, to everything that had once been her bloodline. She had known the risks when she left her home, when she had left Azriel’s side. But that didn’t make it easier.

Her thoughts flickered to him—Azriel. The argument from the night before still stung like fresh wounds. She didn’t need to think about him, didn’t want to, but the ache in her chest had nothing to do with the physical restraints keeping her in place.

She felt nothing for him, right? He was married to Elain. He had his duty.

So why, then, did her stomach twist at the thought of him being with her?

She hated this feeling—the weakness, the vulnerability. All of it felt like a damn trap.

"Enough," she whispered harshly to herself, shaking her head. "Focus, Y/n."

The sounds of her captors outside the cell grated on her nerves, their laughter a mockery of her situation. She had to get out. She couldn’t be here, locked away like some caged animal. She was stronger than this. She had to remind herself of that, had to remember who she was. A fighter. Not some fragile creature waiting to be saved.

But even as she steeled herself for whatever was coming next, a part of her—a deep, raw part of her—felt that familiar, bitter feeling. The one that had started as anger and had transformed into something else entirely when she realized just how much it had all meant.

Azriel.

She had fought for control of her emotions, forcing herself to believe that nothing about their situation would ever change, that it was a marriage out of duty and hatred, but those words—the ones she’d thrown at him, the ones that cut her deep—had twisted something inside of her.

You’re clearly in love with Elain.

She hated that it was true.

She clenched her fists, the cold iron biting into her skin. I hate him. The words were as much of a command as a declaration, but the heaviness in her chest betrayed them.

She heard footsteps approaching, the sound of keys rattling as they unlocked her cell. A cold breeze swept in, and the faintest trace of her captors' low murmurs made her mind race. She wouldn’t be caught off guard again.

But it was hard to ignore the way her pulse spiked when she thought of what lay ahead, of the uncertainty, of whether she would ever see Azriel again.

She didn’t know what she expected from him—whether he would even care enough to search for her, or if he would return to Elain, who was probably sitting in his arms right now, not knowing that Y/n had been taken.

"Get up," a voice barked from the doorway, dragging her from her spiraling thoughts.

Y/n’s gaze snapped to the figure in the shadows, her heart racing, but she forced herself to remain still. She wasn’t going to break—she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

The figure stepped closer, and she recognized the glint of the knife at his waist. “You’re coming with me.”

Y/n narrowed her eyes, refusing to show any sign of fear. She had learned long ago not to let anyone see her weakness. “Where are you taking me?”

“Does it matter?” He sneered, reaching for her arm to yank her to her feet.

She didn’t answer him. Instead, she stood on her own, using every ounce of her will to push the emotions threatening to overwhelm her to the back of her mind. She had to stay focused.

One step at a time. She could get out of this. She could find a way to escape—she wouldn’t let herself be caught like this. Not again.

As the door slammed behind her, the cold weight of her situation settled over her. The farther they took her, the further she seemed to slip away from everything she once knew.

And, somehow, the emptiness in her chest—the one that had started with Azriel, with her own regrets—only seemed to grow.

-------

Azriel couldn’t breathe. The moment Cassian had burst into the room with the news that Y/n had been taken, something inside of him snapped. The tight, cold grip he’d placed on his emotions shattered, and for the first time in weeks, raw, unrelenting fury took control. He hadn’t thought about his wife much in the past few days—had buried himself in missions and training and Elain’s presence, but now, as the reality of her abduction set in, it was all he could think of.

Where the hell is my wife?

Rhysand’s voice had faded into the background as Azriel shoved past him, already moving, already planning. He wasn’t thinking clearly, didn’t care what anyone else had to say. They were in her land now. They had taken his wife, and that was something no one would get away with.

He was the shadowsinger, a mster spy, after all. So, it was only a matter of minutes before he found where the bastards had taken his woman.

The enemy camp was in a desolate part of the forest, surrounded by crumbling ruins. Azriel’s heart beat erratically as he winnowed in with Cassian and Rhysand by his side, their shadows flickering in the cold moonlight. Every inch of his body screamed for violence.

“Get her back, Az,” Cassian said, his voice low, but his eyes just as bloodshot with rage. They both understood that this wasn’t just about a fight—it was about protecting their own.

“Stay close,” Azriel muttered, but his mind was already focused on the task ahead. He couldn’t lose her. Not like this.

The chaos was immediate. His shadows lashed out, tearing through the enemy guards, their screams drowned by the sound of Azriel’s wings slicing through the air, the crack of bones breaking under his fists. He killed anyone who dared stand in his path, his every move laced with the rage he couldn’t keep contained. He didn’t need to think—just act.

And then, there she was.

Y/n.

She was slumped against the wall, pale and barely conscious, her body battered. Her arms were tied, her chest heaving with shallow breaths.

“Y/n!” he roared, voice hoarse with relief and fury as he saw her in that state.

Her eyes fluttered open for a split second, and then closed again, as if she didn’t even have the strength to acknowledge him. That did something to him—something he couldn’t name, something sharp and painful.

Without another thought, he was at her side, gently cutting through the ropes binding her with his shadows. His hands were trembling, but he couldn’t afford to care. “Please, stay with me, Y/n. I’m not leaving you here,” he whispered, his voice raw.

He picked her up carefully, cradling her against his chest as he shot one last look at the carnage around them. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Cassian and Rhysand were already clearing the way, ensuring there were no more threats. Azriel’s shadows fought off anyone who dared get too close as he winnowed them away from the enemy camp.

The moment they were back in the safety of their home, Azriel collapsed to his knees, his heart pounding in his chest. Y/n was limp in his arms, her face pale, her breathing erratic. His gaze flicked over her, and the sheer terror of what had just happened—of nearly losing her—made his stomach churn.

“Y/n,” he breathed, brushing her hair back from her forehead, his fingers trembling with urgency. He needed her to stay awake, needed her to hear him.

"Please, stay awake for me, please, sweetheart.” he begged, voice desperate, not caring if anyone heard the raw plea in his tone.

But her eyes remained closed, her breathing shallow and strained. The darkness beneath her lids said everything he didn’t want to hear: she was slipping away.

And that realization—how close he had come to losing her—shattered him in ways he couldn’t begin to understand.

His anger was still there, like a storm waiting to break, but all he could feel now was the overwhelming need to protect her, to hold her, to never let anything like this happen again.

Her body was growing heavier in his arms, and her fingers, which had once clutched at him with fury and confusion, were now limp.

"Y/n," he whispered again, more softly this time, pressing his forehead to hers, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please, stay with me."

But she didn’t answer, her breathing fading as the darkness of unconsciousness took hold. He felt the weight of her body as she collapsed fully against him, and his heart clenched painfully.

He couldn’t breathe. She was slipping away, and he couldn’t stop it.

Azriel stood there for a long moment, clutching her to him like she was the very air he breathed. His wings were spread protectively around them both, and though his body was screaming for him to act, to fight, to do something, all he could do was hold her close.

"Please," he whispered once more, his voice cracking. "Please don’t leave me."

A hand on his shoulder.

Feyre.

"Az, let go, we need her to be treated immediately."

---------

The first thing Y/n became aware of was the warmth surrounding her. She wasn’t sure where she was, but the soft texture beneath her body—silk sheets—told her that it wasn’t the filthy cell she’d just been in. Her mind was hazy, heavy, and every inch of her body ached, like she had been dragged through hell and back.

But the pain didn’t matter. She didn’t care.

Her eyes flickered open, and the first thing she saw was the dark silhouette of Azriel, standing beside her bed, his face strained and full of tension. His posture was rigid, his shadows curling around him, as if they, too, were on edge.

She swallowed the bitter taste of her own thoughts. She had no reason to feel anything, and yet her heart felt frozen in place. The emotions she had once tried to push aside were back, gnawing at her from the inside. Anger. Hurt. Indifference.

What had he done for her, really? She was alive, yes, but that was all. The person who had put her here—the person who had torn her life apart—was the one who had saved her. 

He was standing there, as if it all made sense, as if they could go back to normal, as if the last few weeks had been anything other than a farce. She could feel the pity in his eyes, though it wasn’t obvious. His brow was furrowed, and his jaw clenched, his emotions in turmoil.

But none of it mattered.

"Azriel," she whispered, the sound of his name bitter on her tongue. She didn’t want to care about his distress, didn’t want to acknowledge it. His guilt, his regrets, his useless efforts—it all felt like too much. She pushed herself up on the bed slowly, her head swimming with the effort, her hands shaking. The whole world felt like a haze, but the bitterness that had settled deep in her chest was crystal clear.

"How nice," she spoke again, her voice cold, cutting through the air like ice. "You saved me, only after your people did all this shit to me. After they kidnapped me, tortured me. It’s funny, don’t you think? How your people did this to me, yet here you are, looking like you give a damn."

Azriel didn’t answer immediately. She could see his hands tighten into fists at his sides. He was still looking at her with those dark, unreadable eyes, his chest rising and falling as if he were holding his breath. She didn’t care.

She had spent so many weeks in this hell of a situation, forced to live in a marriage that felt more like a cage than anything else. His coldness toward her, his complete refusal to acknowledge her existence—none of it was forgotten. If anything, it had only made her hate him more.

"I don’t expect an apology," she said with a brittle laugh, "because I know I won’t get one."

Azriel’s mouth tightened, but she wasn’t sure if it was in anger or frustration. He was silent for a long moment, and the only sound in the room was the soft rustling of his shadows, as if they were waiting for his command. His eyes softened just a little, but Y/n refused to acknowledge it.

“Y/n,” he said finally, his voice strained but laced with something she couldn’t place. “I know you hate me. I don’t blame you. But—”

She cut him off with a sharp glance. “But nothing. It doesn’t matter now, does it? I’m still here, stuck with you and your family. With your people.”

Her chest tightened again, but she forced herself to ignore it. There was no space for weakness. No room for softness.

Azriel swallowed, his face contorting with some emotion she couldn’t read. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if searching for words that could repair the irreparable. But there was nothing. Nothing that would fix the broken trust. Nothing that would heal the wounds he had helped create.

Azriel watched her closely, feeling the weight of her words, feeling the coldness emanating from her. His heart ached in a way he couldn’t explain. The bitter realization settled in his chest, a slow burn of understanding.

She was his mate.

He had refused to believe it when he first felt it but....it all made sense. And the more he thought of it, the more he was surprised to find himself not feeling enraged with the idea.

He had panicked. Gone feral. Of course it made sense now. Why he had been so frantic when they’d taken her. Why he felt this overwhelming sense of protectiveness, why his world had turned upside down when he thought he had lost her. Why he refused to leave her side for even a single second these past few days.

But he couldn’t tell her. Not yet. She hated him, and rightfully so. He had spent weeks ignoring her, fighting against a bond he hadn’t known how to accept. Now that he understood, now that it was clear... It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t believe him.

“Y/n,” he said again, voice softer this time. He reached a hand out toward her, but she pulled away. She didn’t want him near her. Not now. Not after everything.

"I’m not asking for your forgiveness," Azriel continued, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. "I just... I’ll do better. I’ll make an effort."

His words felt hollow, even to him. What could he possibly do to make this right? How could he fix what had been broken? How could he earn her trust back, when he had destroyed it so thoroughly?

Y/n didn’t answer him. She just stared at him, her eyes cold and unreadable. It made something deep inside him twist painfully.

“I don’t need your promises,” she finally spoke, her voice flat. “And I don’t need you to ‘try’ for me, Azriel. I don’t need you for anything.”

Her words stung, cutting deeper than anything he could’ve expected. But they were the truth. She hated him, and he deserved it.

Still, the pull between them remained undeniable, even if she refused to see it.

Azriel didn’t move. He didn’t know what else to say. There was nothing left to say.

Y/n felt the emptiness spread inside her. The room felt too small, the air too heavy. She wanted to be anywhere but here—anywhere but in this cage of her own making.

But she was still here. And nothing was going to change that.

And no amount of promises could make her believe that Azriel was ever going to be the man she needed.

----------

The days had blurred together since the night she had collapsed in his arms. Y/n’s body still ached, but it was a dull, almost forgettable pain now. It had been replaced by the ache of something deeper—something she refused to acknowledge. And Azriel was still there. Every morning, every evening. Silent, but ever-present.

At first, she had ignored him. At first, she’d kept herself isolated from him, refusing to speak, refusing to even look in his direction. But over the past week, something had shifted. It wasn’t that she had softened—no, it wasn’t that easy. But there were moments, fleeting, almost invisible, when his presence didn’t annoy her as much. When she’d see him at the door, a cup of tea in his hand, his eyes soft as he looked at her, and for a brief second, her chest would tighten—not with anger, but with something else.

Something like... relief?

“No more lectures today,” Azriel had said the night before, after yet another one of his silent offerings of tea.

Y/n had shot him a look, her mouth curling into a mock smile. “I didn’t ask for your company,” she snapped, but the words felt hollow even to her.

He’d shrugged and set the cup on the table beside her. “I’m not here for your approval. Just... here."

She had expected him to say something about his promise to “try harder” or some nonsense, but he didn’t. He just left, the sound of his footsteps faint as they receded down the hall.

It was... different.

--------

Two weeks after the attack, Y/n found herself trying to get up from the bed and walk again. Her fingers running over the old wooden dresser. There was a strange sense of isolation she couldn’t shake, despite the fact that she was under the same roof as him and his family. Despite the fact that he was so close, his presence was always felt, even when he wasn’t physically in the room.

It was impossible to ignore him, and for some reason, it frustrated her to no end.

Her mind drifted back to that night, to their conversation in the healing room. The one where Azriel had apologized again, as if it would fix things. She didn’t understand why he cared so much, and maybe that was what irritated her. Maybe that was the part she didn’t want to understand.

Just as she turned to the door, there he was, standing in the doorway, his usual shadowed presence filling the space.

“I don’t need you here,” Y/n said before he could say anything, her voice harsh.

Azriel took a slow breath, his gaze unwavering. “I know.”

She froze, the harsh words hanging in the air between them. She expected him to back down, to offer an apology. But instead, he took a step forward, his wings flexing in a fluid motion.

“I’m not leaving. But I’ll stay out of your way.” His voice was low, almost too careful. He came and gently took ahold of her arm, helping her move around. And for the first time in weeks, Y/n felt something different—something close to a sigh of relief.

----------

Another few days passed, and somehow, against every instinct she had, Y/n found herself standing next to Azriel in the heart of Velaris. The City of Starlight, as Rhysand called it, was beautiful beyond measure—its elegance, its warmth, its life, pulsing through every street, every corner.

The night was warm, the air fragrant with flowers, the glow of lanterns casting a soft golden hue over the cobblestones. For a moment, Y/n forgot about the tensions, about the animosity between her and Azriel. The city had a way of washing away that bitterness, as though its magic had seeped into her very bones.

This was truly the first time she came to explore the city since her arrival in here.

“You’re not afraid of it?” she asked, her voice soft as she turned to Azriel, who had been walking beside her, seemingly lost in thought.

Azriel glanced at her, his face unreadable for a moment before a small smile tugged at his lips. “Afraid of Velaris? No. I’m afraid of what I might do to you here, though.”

Y/n met his gaze, and for once, she didn’t feel the sharp edge of anger that usually followed whenever they spoke. “I don’t need your protection.”

“No,” he agreed, his voice quiet but firm. “You don’t. But I’d like to be here for you anyway.”

Y/n didn’t respond, but she didn’t pull away either. Instead, she let herself enjoy the night. It was small—so small—but it was something.

----------

The days had blurred together since the night she had collapsed in his arms. Y/n’s body still ached, but it was a dull, almost forgettable pain now. It had been replaced by the ache of something deeper—something she refused to acknowledge. And Azriel was still there. Every morning, every evening. Silent, but ever-present.

At first, she had ignored him. At first, she’d kept herself isolated from him, refusing to speak, refusing to even look in his direction. But over the past week, something had shifted. It wasn’t that she had softened—no, it wasn’t that easy. But there were moments, fleeting, almost invisible, when his presence didn’t annoy her as much. When she’d see him at the door, a cup of tea in his hand, his eyes soft as he looked at her, and for a brief second, her chest would tighten—not with anger, but with something else.

Something like... relief?

“No more lectures today,” Azriel had said the night before, after yet another one of his silent offerings of tea.

Y/n had shot him a look, her mouth curling into a mock smile. “I didn’t ask for your company,” she snapped, but the words felt hollow even to her.

He’d shrugged and set the cup on the table beside her. “I’m not here for your approval. Just... here."

She had expected him to say something about his promise to “try harder” or some nonsense, but he didn’t. He just left, the sound of his footsteps faint as they receded down the hall.

It was... different.

It had been three weeks since the incident that nearly tore her apart, and today was different. Today, something inside her had shifted. The cold walls she’d built around herself, the ones she’d reinforced with every cruel word, every insult, every bit of anger toward him—they were slowly crumbling.

Y/n had been in the courtyard of Rhysand’s estate, sitting on a bench, watching the sun set over the city when Azriel appeared beside her.

“I have something I want to show you,” he said, his voice low, hesitant in a way that was both surprising and familiar.

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “What?”

He extended his hand toward her, and for a long moment, she simply stared at it. His shadows curled around him, his presence unmistakable, but it wasn’t commanding anymore. It was... something else. Gentle. Inviting.

He didn’t say anything else. Just stood there, waiting for her to make the choice.

Slowly, reluctantly, she stood and placed her hand in his.

The world shifted beneath them.

In an instant, the ground disappeared from beneath their feet, and Y/n gasped, her body jerking slightly. She instinctively grabbed onto Azriel’s shoulders, her pulse quickening as they soared higher into the sky. The wind whipped through her hair, the city shrinking below them, and the stars stretched endlessly above.

Azriel’s voice was a soft hum in the air as they flew through the night. “I wanted you to see the city from here. From above.”

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t help herself. It was too beautiful, too breathtaking.

“I didn’t think you’d ever want to share this with me,” she whispered, her grip tightening slightly on his arm.

Azriel glanced at her, his eyes full of something she couldn’t quite place. “I don’t know why I’m showing you this. But I want you to understand. Velaris is mine to protect... and now, it’s yours too.”

Her heart pounded, but this time, it wasn’t from fear. It was something else. Something warmer, like the firelight crackling in the hearth back at Rhysand’s house.

And when they landed, her feet once again on solid ground, she didn’t pull away immediately. Her hand remained in his, his other hand still keeping her tight and close to his body, and for the first time, she didn’t feel the need to retract.

For once, she felt... safe.

-------------

And so it went on, day after day, as her an Azriel got closer and closer, him constantly making efforts to be with her.

"I never had anyone who supported me. My aprents aren't exactly the most.....nicest beings on the planet."

Azriel looked down at her, in his arms, as they both stood in the balcony. His grip on her tightened as he said firmly, “Then I’ll be the one who supports you,” He hadn’t planned on saying those words. They just... slipped out. But once they were out in the open, he felt a weight lift off his chest, like a truth he’d been trying to avoid for far too long.

Y/n shifted slightly in his arms, her gaze fixed on the horizon, where the sun was just beginning to dip below the skyline of Velaris. Her expression was unreadable, but the tension in her body softened, just a fraction. “You don’t have to. No one has to. I’ve always done fine on my own.”

Azriel’s hand moved slightly, tracing the line of her shoulder, his thumb brushing against her skin in the way he’d seen himself do to comfort others—except this time, he wasn’t comforting anyone else. He was comforting her. His mate. The thought still sent a jolt through him every time, but the longer he was with her, the more natural it felt.

“I know you’re used to doing things on your own,” Azriel murmured, his voice barely a whisper. “But you don’t have to anymore.”

She turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze. “Why? Why do you even care?” The question was blunt, almost sharp, but there was no anger in it—just the echo of confusion and wariness.

Azriel swallowed, feeling something shift in him. Something... softer, but stronger at the same time. “Because I’m not like your parents, Y/n,” he said quietly, the words coming from deep within. “I’m not going to turn my back on you. Not now. Not ever.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the sound of their breaths in the quiet of the evening. Y/n looked up at him, her eyes searching his face as if trying to figure out if he meant it, if he was lying.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and thick with unspoken words, and then she sighed softly, her eyes dropping to the ground. “I don’t know if I can trust that,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “I’ve been let down before.”

Azriel felt his heart tighten. He knew all too well the feeling of being betrayed, of being left alone. But now wasn’t the time for his own wounds to resurface. This was about her. He stepped closer, his hands gently cupping her face, forcing her to meet his eyes. “I won’t let you down. I can’t promise it will be easy, but I can promise I’ll always be here. For you.”

Y/n didn’t respond right away, her lips parted as if to speak, but the words never came. Instead, she just nodded, once, almost imperceptibly.

Azriel leaned forward then, slowly, hesitating for just a fraction of a second before pressing his forehead gently against hers. “I’m here, sweetpea,” he whispered again, his voice a soft, steady promise. “And I’ll keep being here.”

And in that moment, something cracked in her chest. It wasn’t trust—at least not yet—but it was a shift. A tiny step toward letting him in.

For the first time in a long while, Y/n didn’t feel so alone.

-------

As the days and weeks passed, the distance between Y/n and Azriel shrank. Slowly but surely, she let her guard down, just a little. His presence became more and more a part of her routine, his quiet support a constant in her life. They were no longer strangers trapped in a forced marriage. They were two people learning to understand one another, navigating through the walls they'd built up around themselves.

Azriel's efforts were unwavering. He would sit beside her when she needed company, but he also gave her space when she wanted to retreat into herself. They shared small, silent moments: him waiting for her to speak when she wasn't sure if she could, him showing her parts of Velaris she hadn't yet seen, him listening to her thoughts when she finally dared to open up. In turn, Y/n began to share more and more, until her ice-cold exterior started to melt, just a little at a time.

But still, she kept her distance emotionally. She was hesitant to allow herself to get too close, to let herself feel anything beyond the surface. Because underneath, she still wasn’t sure if she could trust it. Could trust him.

One evening, when the moon hung low in the sky, Azriel brought her to the edge of a quiet garden just outside the city. The stars glittered overhead, and the air was cool, the scent of night-blooming flowers filling the space around them. He stood beside her, quiet as always, but there was something different in his posture tonight. Something weighted, something serious.

Y/n was standing a few paces away, her back turned, arms crossed over her chest as she stared out at the vast, star-filled sky. She had gotten used to the silence between them, but tonight it felt heavy, almost as if he were waiting for something.

“You’ve been distant tonight,” she said, not turning around. She knew he was there, felt his presence in a way that had become familiar.

Azriel shifted, his shadowed wings shifting with him. “I’ve been thinking,” he started, his voice a bit quieter than usual. “About... everything.”

Y/n didn’t look at him, not yet. But she felt the weight of his gaze on her, pulling her attention in ways she couldn’t ignore. "About what?" Her voice was guarded, but there was a softness to it now.

Azriel took a step closer, his hand reaching out, though he hesitated before touching her. He wasn’t sure how she would react—if she would push him away again. “About us. And what comes next.”

The words stirred something in her. Y/n slowly turned to face him, her expression unreadable, but she was feeling something now—something she hadn't let herself feel before. Her heart, cold and distant for so long, was starting to thaw.

“What do you mean by ‘what comes next’?” she asked, her voice faintly trembling.

Azriel exhaled softly, his eyes locking onto hers, and for the first time in a long while, Y/n saw the full weight of his feelings—of everything he hadn’t said, hadn’t shown. "Y/n, you’ve been through so much. I know that. And we’ve both been trying to navigate a marriage that wasn’t our choice. But what I’m about to say... it matters. And I’ve been afraid, afraid to tell you. But it's time."

Y/n frowned, the confusion on her face deepening. “What are you talking about?”

Azriel stepped closer, closing the distance between them. His eyes never left hers, and she could see the vulnerability in them now. The walls he'd built, even for her, were starting to crumble. He had kept so much from her, kept his distance when he shouldn't have. And now, it was time to tell her the truth.

“You’re my mate,” he said softly, the words coming out almost as a whisper. "I knew the moment I brought you back, Y/n. I didn’t want to tell you then... We were both still so caught up in our own worlds. I thought you wouldn’t want me. I thought it was too much. But now I can’t pretend anymore.”

Y/n blinked, her heart stopping for a beat. The words felt like a punch to the gut—everything she’d been trying to avoid hearing, but somehow, deep down, she had known. It was always there, lurking just beneath the surface. The way they had gravitated toward one another, the way she felt when she was with him. It wasn’t just a bond created by circumstance.

“Wait... you knew?” Y/n’s voice was quiet, but the disbelief in it was impossible to miss. “You knew all this time, and you didn’t tell me?” Her voice started to shake with the sudden rush of emotions she hadn’t let herself feel. The anger, the confusion, the hurt. It all came rushing back. “Why? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Azriel took a step back, his hands flexing at his sides as if he were torn between stepping closer or retreating. “I thought—” he paused, trying to find the right words. “I thought you’d be angry. I thought you wouldn’t want me. You were already dealing with everything. You didn’t need the pressure of that on top of it. I couldn’t give you more pain.”

Y/n’s heart ached at his words, but there was anger too, rising like a tide inside her. “You couldn’t have trusted me enough to tell me? To let me decide for myself? You can’t just assume how I feel about you, Azriel. You don’t get to make those decisions for me.”

Azriel winced at her words, but there was nothing he could say to make it better. He had made a mistake. A huge one. “I’m sorry, Y/n. I was afraid. I didn’t know what to do with it. But now... I can’t pretend anymore. You’re my mate. I never should’ve kept it from you.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, the world felt still. She wasn’t sure how to respond. She was angry, but deep down, there was something else—something softer, something that wanted to understand, wanted to reach out. But trust didn’t come easily for her. Not after everything.

“I don’t know what to do with this,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I don’t know what to do with you.”

Azriel's heart clenched. “I’m not asking you to know right now. But I’ll be here. Whenever you’re ready.”

Y/n didn't respond immediately. Instead, she stepped back, her eyes still locked on his, but her heart was a tumult of emotions she couldn’t put into words. “I need time,” she said quietly, more to herself than to him.

Azriel nodded, his expression softening. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be here.”

---------

It was a week later that they fully gave into one another.

Y/n hadn't expected this, she truly didn't. She was still processing everything, how crazy it all was. How, for the past four months, her life has been nothing but a roller coaster.

At first, she was certain she hated him. Despised him even.

But now, after all that happened, and especially after his confession, she couldn't hide her growing feelings anymore. Her mother would have been disappointed. Feelings are a weakness. But-

"You seem to be lost in thought."

Y/n lifted her head from her bed to see Azriel, standing in her doorway, arms crossed, a small smile on his lips.

She just sighed and leaned back down on her bed, slowly gesturing for him to come sit beside her. "So much is happening...I don't know what to feel anymore."

She felt the bed dip beside her as Azriel sat, "Well, if you tell me-"

His words were cut off as his eyes lowered and he took in the sheer, dark blue, nightgown she was wearing. It wasn't intentional really, she just put on what her hand took ahold of first but now....as she sat there and watched as her mate's eyes went darker and darker as he stared more and more, y/n couldn't help but feel proud of herself.

And so, that was how it began.

How they slowly got closer and closer until only mere inches seperated them before they both succumbed to their needs and kissed.

Denying Azriel's attrctiveness was like denying the existence of life itself.

And before either registered it, they were both naked, with Azriel kissing, sucking and biting each part of her. Her moans echoing throughout the room, handds scratching his scalp, their bodies glued to one another.

"So beautiful." a kiss to her collarbone, "So fucking beautiful."

"Mother above, look at these breasts. Can't believe you've been hiding them from me for four months."

Praises kept falling from Azriels lips as eventually, they were both connected fully. The second his cock entered her, Azriel couldn't help the groan that left his throat. His thighs seperating her legs further as he started off slowly, to savour this moment. His hands were palming her breasts, eyes glued to her face, her body, her expression, every little part, really.

She was perfect.

Then she held her arms open, open for him to lay his head in the crook of her neck as his hips began taking on a faster pace, his breathy moans and groans mixing with hers.

"F-fuck, that's it, s-sweetpie. Keep making those moans for me."

They didn't stop the whole night, going at it like a newly mated couple which...they probably were at this point.

Eventually though, by sunrise, they were entangled together, his dick still semi-hard inside of her.

"You are all mine." Azriel's voice dripped with posession as he kissed her neck, nuzzling his head there.

Y/n smiled slightly.

"Oh really? and here I thought I was just another one of your many projects. How flattering.”

Azriel’s eyes flashed with a mix of amusement and something deeper. “You’re not just a project,” he replied, his voice low, serious even, as his fingers brushed against the small of her back. “You’re mine. And I don’t take what’s mine lightly.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, though her heart fluttered in her chest despite her best efforts to remain indifferent. “Uh-huh, and that’s supposed to make me feel special?”

Azriel chuckled softly, leaning in to press his lips to her temple, soft and lingering. “It’s supposed to make you feel safe,” he said quietly, the playful tone in his voice fading for a moment. “And you are special, Y/n. More than you know.”

She looked at him, unsure of what to make of his sincerity. For all his strength, his power, his ability to overwhelm her with his presence, there was a vulnerability in the way he said those words that caught her off guard.

“Guess I’ll have to get used to that, huh?” she muttered, her voice softer now.

He smiled gently, pulling her closer, his wings folding protectively around them both. “Only if you want to.”

And apparently, she did want to. Because as they lay there talking about their future, the new chapter of their marriage, she couldn't help but wonder how it had all shifted so unexpectedly.

But it also made her realise something. Maybe they weren’t perfect. Maybe they didn’t have all the answers. But they had each other. And for now, that was enough.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[sunrizef1]

Girl back home

Pairing: Logan Sargeant x wife!reader

Warnings: cursing (I think)

Authors note: this took forever, but now I can actually work on whiv now that I’ve finished this

Summary: Everyone keeps trying to set Logan up, but no one bothers to ask if he's already got a girl (surprise! he does!)

Word Count: 4.2k (jesus)

“What about her? she’s pretty,” Alex asks as he points at the five hundredth model to walk past the Williams garage that day.

If it hadn’t been his home race, Logan might have walked away an hour ago when Alex’s pointing started but instead, he stayed, choosing to endure Alex’s unrelenting matchmaking.

“No, Alex. I’ve already said no to about 50 other girls you’ve pointed out, what makes you think she’d be different,” Logan groans, his head leaning back to rest against the wall behind them.

Alex purses his lips, a frown on his face, “Why won’t you let me get you a girlfriend?”

Logan pauses to stare at the ceiling of the garage for a second before he turns his head to face the man next to him, “I don’t need a girlfriend.”

“Yeah sure man, I’ve seen you stare quietly at a wall by yourself more times than you’d probably admit. If that doesn’t scream “I need a girlfriend” then I don’t know what does,” Alex shrugs before turning back to face away from his friend, his hand coming back up to point at a pretty-faced blonde girl making her way past the garage, even smiling when she locks eyes with Logan, “Ooh what about her? She seems to like you!”

Logan just hums in response, his eyes closing as he leaves Alex to talk to himself.

In reality, Logan truly didn’t need a girlfriend. He had something even better, a wife. Who also happened to be you. You had met when you were kids and had been in love ever since. You liked to joke that it was love at first sight but every time you said it, Logan would wonder how much of a joke it really was.

You had been there for every step in his career, through the wins and the losses, through karting to Formula racing. So when he proposed after the end of the f3 season in 2020, no one close to you was really surprised.

You got married shortly after, neither one of you wanting a big, flashy wedding. Instead, the wedding was small but still nice, just some close friends and family in attendance. Even Oscar had been there and he made sure to reference the event to everyone who wouldn’t understand when around Logan. He loved to talk about the “party” Logan had in 2020 to the other drivers who, frankly, had no idea what he meant.

When he got his move to Formula One, you were over the moon for him. You didn’t worry about long-distance. You had made it work in the past and you both had total confidence in each other to make it work. You continued your degree in engineering and he continued his career in racing. You tried to make it to races when school would let you, which wasn’t often, and he was more than happy to fly you out when he could.

Logan genuinely loved you more than anything. With that being said, this meant that he did not have the time of day for anyone trying to set him up with the Instagram model of the week who had decided to visit a garage.

But at the same time, he also didn’t feel the pressure to share your marriage with anyone. He didn’t really know any of the other drivers very well and if they wanted to know more about him, they could ask. It’s just that no one ever did.

Except, it seems, when they wanted to set him up.

“Hey, Logan!” A British voice calls out to the American, whose head shoots up at the uncommon voice.

“What’s up, mate?” The blonde asks Lando, pocketing the phone where he had just been texting you to ask about your engineering final.

Lando grins and places a hand on the American's shoulder, raising his voice to be heard above the sounds of the paddock, “I was talking to Oscar and he mentioned something about your love life and something about you being lonely, I don’t really remember what he said but anyway, I’m talking to this girl and she has this friend who I think would be perfect for you.”

Logan’s face drops at the brunette's words, a frown replacing his smile, “I’m cool Lando, thanks though.”

Lando furrows his eyebrows, disbelief written on his features, “You sure, mate? She’s sooooo fine.”

Logan just nods his head in response, backing away from the McLaren driver slowly, “Yeah I’m sure Lando, you have fun thinking about your girlfriend’s friend though.”

Lando doesn’t seem to catch the diss as he just glances up and down at Logan before shaking his head and turning on his heel to head back to his garage. Logan sighs before taking his phone back out of his pocket to see another text from you. A grin breaks out on his face as he sees your name.

Logan hadn’t talked to very many of the drivers on the grid, often feeling on the outs of a lot of conversations. So he’s even more surprised to see Charles Leclerc making his way toward him at a club. A club he had only agreed to come to so he coule be Oscar's designated driver, by the way.

“Eyyy, it’s the American!” Charles says, the alcohol clearly present in his voice. The lights are too dimmed but if they were brighter, Logan would be able to see the lipstick smudges around his white collar.

“Hey, Charles,” Logan replies, scepticism laced in his voice. The Monegasque leans closer to him, the drink in his hand sloshing around in the cup.

“I have something to tell you,” Charles slurs a bit, leaning dangerously before a pretty brunette comes up and grabs him, based on her lipstick shade compared to Charles’ shirt, she had already been more than acquaintances with him before this conversation.

Logan glances at the pair before responding dryly, “Oh no.”

Charles grins before pointing back to where he had come from, a dark-haired girl sitting at the table, “That’s Natalie.”

“Navaeh,” the brunette pipes up to correct Charles as he nods in response.

“Yeah, Nivia. Anyway, she’s a friend of mine and she’s been eyeing you all night, thought you’d want her number.”

Logan rolls his eyes at the very clearly drunk couple in front of him, increasing his headache from the pounding EDM, “What an assumption there Charles. I’m actually good though.”

“What?” Charles asks, squinting to see the blonde under the club lights.

“No thanks,” Logan smiles tightly before moving to step around the couple and probably tell Oscar that either they were both leaving or Oscar was getting an Uber, “You guys have a good night though.”

The couple is already too busy sucking face to realize he’s left.

“I just don’t understand why they keep trying to set me up, I’m perfectly happy with you,” Logan complains to you over the phone a few nights later.

You were sat in your dorm, engineering work strewn across your desk and your roommate at a party somewhere. You were trying to get as much work done as possible before Logan came to Austin for the GP so you could spend the weekend with him.

“I mean, have you told them you’re married?” You ask, trying to stifle a yawn as your hand moves to write down the equation for the problem in front of you.

Logan shakes his head, the movement almost imperceptible through the small phone screen, “Nah, but it’s just that no one’s asked you know? I’m just waiting for someone to say “Hey Logan, you got a girl back home?” Before they try and set me up with some Instagram model they know.”

You smile softly as he talks, his hands moving to mess with his blond hair periodically. He eventually looks back to the screen once he’s done ranting and is met with your smiling face filling his phone screen, “What?”

“I love you,” you say warmly, your grin practically splitting your face.

Logan blushes before laughing and shaking his head to hide the redness on his face, “I love you too. I’ll see you next week yeah?”

You look down at the now-completed homework in front of you. Homework that could’ve taken about 2 fewer hours if you weren’t on call.

“Yeah I’m done with this. I’ll turn it into my professor tomorrow and after that I am free. When do you get in?” You ask, shuffling the papers together and sliding them into your bag before moving out of your chair and flopping onto your bunk, sleep clouding your eyes.

“Uhh,” Logan pauses, glancing at his suitcase. In reality, he was supposed to get in twenty two hours and six minutes from when he hung up the call, his flight leaving in three hours and arriving in Austin after a 16 hour flight and a 2 hour layover in DFW followed by an hour long flight to Austin. He would effectively be arriving about a week before any of the other drivers. Besides maybe Daniel. But he couldn’t say any of that. He wanted to surprise you, especially now that you had no work to do. So instead he just hums, “Next week I think.”

“That’s great, babe,” you yawn, a small smile on your lips at the idea of him being back with you again, “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Yeah?” Logan grins.

You hum, your eyes drifting closed slightly, “Yeah.”

Logan notices your less-than-awake state and finally decides to end the call, “Goodnight, I love you.”

You yawn again, your eyes fluttering shut, “Good morning Logan, I love you too.”

The call ends quickly after and Logan glances at the time, grinning when he sees the 8:24 am displayed on his phone screen. You’d both had to deal with the difference in time zones for so long, you probably had all the time zones memorized. Or at least you remembered enough to call out good morning instead of goodnight while he was in Qatar.

His flight touches down twenty-two hours later and the first thing he does is call you.

“Hey what's up?” It's about 10:30 in Austin and the only thing you were doing was picking up barbeque from this place on the edge of campus that your roommate had been raving about.

“Not much, just bored,” Logan replies, his eyes scanning the background of the face time call for where you could possibly be this late.

You glance down at your phone for a second to do the same, eyebrows furrowing, “Where are you? It looks dark.”

Logan glances around slightly before replying, “In a car,” he wasn't lying, he really was in a car. Just one that was ubering to your campus instead of one with his team in Qatar, “Where are you? It's like 10 pm over there.”

“Just picking up some food,” you reply, eyes looking over the moonlit sidewalk that threads through the well-kept grass that surrounds you.

“This late?”

You laugh, “I slept through dinner.”

Logan smiles before sliding forward slightly when the car stops, “Are you just going back to your dorm?”

You look around quickly, “Yeah it's like a quarter mile back though.” You tighten your grip on the bag in your hand, the plastic having started to slip. Maybe your Ugg slides hadn't been the best choice for this walk but you'd manage.

“Oh yeah I know where you are, I remember eating at that place last time I was there,” Logan pulls his suitcase out of the trunk and tips the driver, checking periodically to make sure you hadn't clocked him.

“Yeah yeah, really good stuff and the owner remembered me today, guess I've been there enough times,” You laugh, starting to move back in the direction of your dorm once again.

By the time you had stopped to readjust the bag of food and your shoes, Logan had already started to speedwalk in the direction of your dorm. As he walks he passes enough drunk college kids to fill the football stadium they had all visited so many times.

You're walking pretty slowly, enjoying the moonlight shining brightly on the campus. Your shoes definitely weren't making you any faster to be fair.

“You turn your assignment in?” Logan asks, hoping you don't notice his eyes darting around the campus in search of you.

You nod, reaching a hand up to rub at your sleepy eyes, “Yeah, he even gave me extra credit for turning it in so early.”

Logan nods absentmindedly and you raise an eyebrow as you watch him do it before his eyes lock on something and he abruptly ends the call, “I've got to go, love you!”

You stand staring at your phone with a confused look on your face for a moment, words dying on the tip of your tongue. Weird.

You shake your head before moving to walk again, Logan's weird actions at the forefront of your mind.

Before you can even take a step, someone calls out your name and you turn quickly to see Logan standing there with the biggest grin on his face.

You gasp and wrap him in a bone-crushing hug warmth spreading through you from his arms. You move to spread kisses all across his face and for a few minutes, you both just stand there, not having seen each other in a few months and taking the time to readjust.

“I missed you,” you mumble into his shoulder, unexpected tears starting to spring from your eyes.

He just sets you down before wrapping a hand around the side of your face, “I missed you too.”

You bring a sweater-clad hand up to wipe away a tear before grabbing the food in one hand and grabbing his hand in the other, starting to lead him back to your dorm.

He grabs his suitcase as you start moving, “Is your roommate here?”

“No, you know how she is. She'll be with her new boyfriend for a few weeks so we're fine,” you wave away his question as you walk toward the building a few hundred feet away.

He smiles in response, “Hope you got enough food for two.”

You just laugh joyously.

A week and a half later, you’re stood in the hotel room Logan’s team had provided him, the room much nicer than your cramped dorm room. You had spent the last 12 days exploring Austin with your husband, making up for the time spent away from each other.

You had accidentally slept through Logan’s departure for the morning, waking up to a text explaining that, with your busy class schedule, he wanted you to get as many days of sleeping in as possible but he had gotten you breakfast and it was currently sitting in the kitchen.

You smiled at the text, appreciating Logan’s thoughtfulness. In the kitchen was a coffee from your favourite coffee shop as well as a McGriddle from McDonalds, which, no doubt, hurt Logan to order considering he wasn’t allowed to eat them.

You quickly ate the food, texting Logan to thank him. He texts back surprisingly quickly, considering he was supposed to be in a meeting.

He filled you in on how his morning had gone before asking when you’d get to the paddock for the race. You replied that you’d be there soon, quickly sliding on a light jacket over your tank top and jean shorts, preparing for the Austin heat.

Considering you had never been in the COTA paddock before, you would rather be in any situation other than your current one. There were about three hours until the race and you had no idea where the Williams garage was. You had gotten in just fine but, for some reason, you couldn’t find the blue of the Williams employees anywhere.

Logan wasn’t answering his phone, which you expected considering he had already been reprimanded for being on his phone during a meeting once this morning. Now you were left by yourself, trying to navigate the busy paddock.

You were somehow in a sea of orange, eyebrows furrowed. You turn in a quick circle, eyes setting on a curly-haired man in an orange polo who you take a few quick steps towards, hoping he can help you with directions.

“Excuse me,” you call out to the man who turns around swiftly, eyes pulling across your figure before landing on your face.

“How can I help you, love?” The man replies, a British accent laced through his voice and a sharp grin on his rosy lips.

You glance around slightly, leaning away from the man’s hungry gaze, “Do you know where the Williams garage is?”

He nods his head but keeps his eyes locked on your face, his smirk unfaltering, “Yeah, yeah, it’s just down that way.”

He points to nowhere in particular, moving to lean against the wall you’re standing near, “What’s your name, darling?”

You have to hide the smirk that tries to escape you at the fact that this man clearly has no idea you were married and also clearly thought you’d be an easy girl to flirt with considering his unwavering confidence.

You tell him your name and a grin breaks out on his face, “Pretty name, I’m Lando.”

Ah, so this was Lando. You had only ever seen him with his helmet on and from what you heard from Logan, his current behaviour made perfect sense. Logan hadn’t talked a lot about the Brit but he had mentioned him a few times considering he was Oscars teammate.

You hum, glancing around amusedly around the garage. You and Lando talk for a few more moments before a shorter figure clasps a hand on his shoulder. You lock eyes with the newcomer, grinning when you see a familiar boy standing behind Lando.

"Hey Osc," You smile at the Aussie. Oscar glances sideways at Lando, eyes shifting across his face before they turn to you. You just smile sweetly at the man who reciprocates the grin back at you.

"Hey," Lando glances confusedly between the two of you at Oscar's response. When Lando's confusion goes on a bit too long, Oscar turns and swings an arm around your shoulder, effectively moving the both of you away from the still-confused McLaren driver.

"I assume you're looking for Williams, then?" Oscar asks, running his free hand through his hair which had already begun to stick to his forehead from the Austin heat.

You hum in affirmation, sliding your sunglasses down your nose as the two of you step into the sun to make your way to your husband's garage.

Oscar makes conversation as he pulls you along, talking to you about how his season had gone and also asking a lot of questions about your engineering classes.

“I’d do a video for you, shock all your classmates,” Oscar says when you tell him you had to do a presentation explaining the engineering behind a piece of machinery and you had chosen a Formula 1 car.

You laugh, shaking your head as you do, “Yeah? I'd take you up on that, but I have a driver who'd be much easier to get a video from.”

Oscar snorts, smiling as you reach the Williams garage, “Lando?”

You roll your eyes as the name leaves his lips, hitting the back of his head with the small bag in your hands, “Don't get me started on Lando. You know he tried to set Logan up with one of his friends?”

Oscar furrows his eyebrows, “What?”

“Yeah, Lando said you told him Logan’s love life was lonely or something like that,” You reply, glancing around passively in search of your husband.

Oscar somehow manages to furrow his eyebrows even deeper, mouth opening and closing in disbelief, “That’s not what I said at all.”

“Tell him that.”

You both walk into the garage after that, you move to make conversation with Benny who’s sat to the side, surprise crossing his face as he sees you.

Oscar, though, spots Logan and makes his way to him quickly. He clasps a hand on the blonde's back who turns to face him with a grin, “What’s up Osc?”

“Lando was flirting with your wife,” Oscar states flatly, trying to push down the grin on his face.

Logan blinks a few times in an attempt to understand what the Aussie just said, “What- why?”

“Don’t think he knew she was your wife, mate.”

Logan rolls his eyes before turning around slightly to resume his conversation with his engineer. He stops mid-turn and swings back around to Oscar quickly, eyes wide, “My wife’s here?”

Oscar laughs at the American's face, stepping out of his line of sight so he can see you conversing with Benny.

Logan grins, sliding past the other boy to step toward you as quick as he can, wrapping his arms around you from behind. Oscar can’t hear what you two say to each other but he can see the love painting your faces as Logan plants a kiss on the top of your head. Benny smiles at the two of you, walking away to let you two talk.

As Oscar leaves the Williams garage, he briefly debates telling Lando you were married, especially to Logan, but he eventually decides not to. He’d figure it out eventually. Also might help to have him learn the hard way.

You sat in the garage for the entire race. But when Logan ends the race in eight, you’re jumping up happily to follow the Williams employee guiding you to where he’ll be.

The moment he’s done being weighed, he runs over to you, pulling his helmet off and unzipping his suit to his hips.

He grasps the side of your face, pulling you to him as he kisses you softly. He pulls away slightly and rests his forehead against yours, lifting a hand to grab the one you have against the side of his face, fingers brushing over your wedding ring.

“Thank you for being here. I love you.”

You can’t help the lovely laugh that escapes you, throwing your head back a bit to escape the heat rising on your cheeks, “I love you too, dork. I’m so proud of you.”

He smiles before leaning to catch you in another kiss.

Lando had finished the race in 4th. Not bad considering who had finished in front of him. He’d already talked to his team so he was now just roaming around, looking for someone to talk to.

He locks eyes on you and takes a few steps toward you before someone comes running past him. He looks over to see Logan grasping your face in his hands before pulling you down into a kiss.

He can’t help but stand in shock for a few moments although he can sense a couple people walking up next to him. He glances beside him to see Charles and Alex, both also staring at Logan in disbelief.

“What the hell?” Lando asks, to no one in particular. Luckily, or unfortunately, for him, someone has an answer.

“Are you lot staring at Logan and his wife?” Lando doesn’t look over to catch the amused look on Oscar’s face as he asks the question. But Alex does, and he furrows his eyebrows at the younger man.

“Sorry?” Alex asks the Aussie who just smiles and turns back to the couple, still smiling in each other's embrace.

Charles is the first one to notice anything and he smacks the other two on the head when he does, “They’re both wearing wedding rings.”

Alex blinks for a second, caught in the strange reality that he hadn’t noticed his teammate wearing a wedding ring the whole season. He pulls out his phone to go through old photos and low-and-behold, Logan’s wearing a ring in every single one.

“Jesus Christ,” Lando mumbles, running a hand through his damp curls, “I flirted with her.”

“Yeah,” Oscar nods, hands on his hips, “I probably wouldn’t talk to Logan for a while if I were you. Unless you want to find out how they do it in Florida.”

Lando gulps at the boy's words, of course, having no idea how they “do it” in Florida but only assuming he’d end up with a black eye. Oscar has to stifle a laugh, knowing Logan would most likely just laugh it off if Lando genuinely apologized. Not that Lando would.

Oscar's eyes drift across the trio of confused drivers, most likely all going through their memories of the times they had tried to set Logan up.

“You told me he was lonely,” Lando finally whines out, turning back to Oscar who shakes his head.

“I told you he was lonely because his girlfriend couldn’t make it to any of the races. If you would listen, you would’ve heard that part.”

Lando has no defence to that and turns his head back again to watch as Logan laughs at something you said, fingers intertwined together.

When the news spread across the paddock the next day, Logan received a lot of incredulous texts from drivers and employees alike, all shocked that he was in a relationship, let alone married.

Logan didn’t read any of them, he was too busy hanging out with you.

Except, of course, the message from Oscar that included three specific drivers all with their eyes wide as they stared at him and you.

——————————————————

Tags: @casperlikej @evie-119

[thehauntedetheral]

hi, how are you doing? If is not a bother can you make a yandere ex fuckboy x insecure reader, she is insecure of his past and the girls he used to stay with before they start dating and is terrified of him cheating on her, that bothers the yandere a lot and he goes to the extreme to prove to her that he doesn't want anyone else.

Hello I am doing well and hope you are doing well too. I hope you like this work.

Yandere Ex Fuckboy X Insecure Reader

Requests are open!

• You were always on edge thinking that your boyfriend is with some other girl cheating on you when he is not with you.

• You love your boyfriend a lot. And he has been an amazing boyfriend to you all the time being caring, protective, sweet, understanding towards you. But his past. His past always haunts you and makes you feel insecure.

• In the past before you two got into the relationship yan was the Fuckboy of your college. Girls always surrounding him and being attracted to him like a moth to a flame as he was tall, good looking, rich and extremely good in bed with his smooth as butter flirting skills and charming personality.

• Some even say that he slept with more than half of the girls in campus.

• But after meeting you this man gets changed for forever. He has never felt something so strong like this for anyone ever.

• He tries his best to court you. Begging to you on his knees to make him your boyfriend. This man becomes a simp when it comes to you.

• But you ignored him knowing his infamous Fuckboy image.

• To get your attention he follows you around like a lost puppy, Spoiling you with flowers, meals, coffee anything you want just please let him be your boyfriend and let him love you.

• Frustrated by his constant chaos you finally give him a chance and say yes.

• He tries his best to be the best boyfriend for you not wanting to disappoint you on the chance you have given him. And true to his words he is a really good boyfriend to you.

• You don't know that this is the first relationship yan ever had. Yes he slept around a lot but never dated anyone. You are the first.

• When he gets to know his love, his darling is feeling insecure due to his past he does all the possible ways to show you that he belongs only to you and no one.

• Wearing tshirts which have things like this written all over it " My girlfriend is hotter than you" or "I love my girlfriend" while walking around the campus showing everyone. If his tshirt doesn't have this written on it then it definitely will be a photo of you printed all over his tshirt.

• Wears the handmade bracelet you made for him 24/7 not taking it off ever.

• Always wears your hair ties on his wrist in case you need it and to show people he is already taken by his beautiful girlfriend.

• Is one of the best player of the college's football team and whenever he earns a goal during the matches he dedicates his goals to you pointing at you and screaming "I love you y/n" infront of the whole crowd.

• By the way he changes his jersey number to your birthday date number showing his jersey back to everyone.

• When a girl from his past approaches him he straight up says "I have a beautiful girlfriend whom I love to death so please leave"

• This man is so in love, committed and loyal to you that it's sickly disgusting for others to watch.

• Everyone thinks you have done some kind of witchcraft on him because he has suddenly became the most loving boyfriend for you from the college's Fuckboy.

• This man would do anything for you to never be insecure again that he would even say this "We can get engaged or even better married if it puts your mind to an ease y/n."

Meanwhile reader : "........"

• This man would kill himself before even thinking about cheating on you and hurting you. The thought of some another girl other than you now makes him nauseous let alone even think about touching them.

• Yan is utterly whipped and in love with you. He would even bring the fucking world infront of your knees if you want.

Let me know what you think about this fic.

Requests are open !

For more yandere reading

[delicatepointeofview]

Incomparable

fandom: Bridgerton

pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

summary: you don’t fit in quite well with the rest of the ton, but you still manage to catch the eye of the Viscount

note: this is for the girlies with resting bitch face, warning this is a fem!reader as much as i prefer a gender neutral reader, the heteronormative regency society just doesn’t allow it

this was already once posted before on my since deleted blog by my same current name but has been slightly edited :)

It was only one of the first balls of many and you were already regretting your unfortunate position as a newly presented flower of the season. You never thought you had what it took to be this year’s diamond, nor its ruby, nor its pearl, or any jewel for the matter. In your eyes you didn’t have the effortless glimmer that Daphne Bridgerton had last season nor the graceful steps of this season's ingénue, Edwina Sharma.

Of course, you had prepared all your life for this moment like every upper class girl. Knowing all that you should to be presented into society. You sat through the pianoforte lessons and even tried your hand at singing (which was a terrible mistake). You learned to embroider from your mother, much to the dismay of your aching fingers which always manage to burn and go numb far too quickly for her liking. You read all the textbooks even though you much preferred novels, never understanding the point of your tutors' comments about men wanting to marry educated girls. Quickly learning as you grew older and more outspoken that gentlemen like to know a woman is well read, but hardly ever that they use that knowledge in conversation.

But somehow, even after the painstakingly long hours at the modiste getting fitted for new dresses and the even longer time you spent getting into them, none of it was enough. Not the lessons, not the newly dropped hem, not the hours of sitting for your hair to be expertly styled and bejeweled by the finest gems your family had to offer. Still every other lady and her mama have had to comment on how you are so far from even the realm of possibly being considered a diamond. You heard their whispers through the silk and lace of their folding fans as clear as the night.

‘They barely graced the Queen with a smile,”

‘They’ll definitely grow to be a spinster with that face,’

Oh, but this wasn’t only from the women, of course not, they just have the decency to try and say this behind your back. You are well aware of how men love to grace you with their opinion, despite you caring very little for it. They always have the audacity to say these things straight to your somber face as if it would do you any good.

‘You know, you would be slightly prettier if you smiled,’

‘If you would smile, you would seem much more amiable,’

and most recently,

“I am sure more gentlemen would ask for a dance if you didn’t look so miserable, my Lady,”

You had been approached by a well-respected gentlemen named Mr. Hastings when you had escaped your mother’s disapproving clutches to find solace at the refreshments table. Drinking lemonade desperately wishing it were wine. He asked you to dance. Much to your misfortune you couldn’t fain a full dance card as the one clutched in your gloved hand was mockingly empty. This left you enduring a dreadfully boring conversation about his horse, how much it had cost him, how much it is actually worth, and just how incredible this horse was. You quite frankly wished to be anywhere else. As would anyone else you’re sure, but while they may have hid that behind a polite smile you showed your boredom evidently in your downturned lips.

But what would be the point in hiding it? You were tired of the facade that enwrapped these balls and society. Everyone was smiling, but was anyone truly happy? Even then who is happy and just goes around smiling like some loon. You were having a terrible time parading around the room with your mother’s stern grip on your arm showcasing you like a piece of meat, or a show pony— or to be terribly on the nose, Mr. Hastings prized horse.

Then once you had finally escaped her and found peace hoping to blend in to the wallpaper, you have been made to endure small talk and dance with a man you had little interest in. All while he made you listen to his horrendously dull conversation and he had the nerve to ask— no, to want you to not look miserable. This man who looked like molding swiss cheese and only spoke of his horse.

“I beg you pardon, sir?”

“That you look as if you are attending a funeral, my lady,” he says as he spins you following the choreography of the dance, “It is only polite that you smile as we dance.”

His own obviously fake smile is painted across his face, all thin lips and no teeth as he eyes you expectantly waiting for you to obediently heed his suggestion—or more likely it was a sort of social command. Polite society would have deemed you to be all smiles and perfect wit, to ease yourself out of this treacherous conversation you were wormed into with a poised grace or give in to his orders with a sickly sweet smile because it would be rude not to, no?

But no, indeed. You were not going to give in. No matter how many whispered or backhanded compliments you received only on your first night into society. You had seen how your female cousins and older friends had broken their backs to bend to the whims of society. Left behind forgotten ideals to suit their new suitors to get the ring and the wedding that would never even scratch at their fanciful girlish dreams of prince charmings and knights in shining armor. You would not let society break you.

“Well, I would smile if I was having a nice time. Maybe if you said something funny I would laugh or if the conversation was pleasant,” you had stopped dancing now, tired of this day and all the niceties and manners you were to follow.

You stood before him with your jaw clenched and your brows furrowed absolutely seething, “But you are far from pleasant. All you do, sir, is speak of your race horse and how much it is worth to you. If you care so much about your horse, I wonder why you ever wish to marry when all your attention seems to be going to your insipid horse!”

“Why you rude, intolerable girl—”

You didn’t care any more about the staring eyes of the ton or the gasps from appalled mamas. You would have welcomed all of Mr. Hastings angry words to at least hear something real for the first time all day. But instead he is cut short as the figure of a man approaches your side.

“I beg your pardon Mr. Hastings. How dare you raise your voice to a lady, have you no honor or decorum?”

Viscount Anthony Bridgerton stood before the two of you. Chin tilted upwards and shoulders set back in an unspoken challenge with the less titled man in front of you.

His question goes unanswered, but he continues nodding to you, “I believe the Lady makes a very agreeable point, sir. You speak entirely of your horse and nothing else, this would bore any with a brain in the ton.”

You almost would have laughed if you weren’t so shocked. What exactly was the Viscount doing? You hardly ever spoke other than short introductions and nods exchanged while you were in the company of his sister and your friend, Eloise.

But there was not a moment to think on this further as the scene that was forming around you was all too captivating. Mr. Hastings, who it should be mentioned once more felt so prideful of his horse, can be seen visibly shrinking shoulder hunching forward slumping as if he were a little boy who lost a game. He clears his throat, “Well then, I shall take my conversation elsewhere.”

Before he could turn to leave the eldest Bridgerton son stops him, “Sir, you have forgotten to apologize to the Lady,”

Mr. Hasting freezes in his place turning to eye the man and you bite your lip fighting the laugh that threatens to erupt at the odious man whose eyes widen and mouth becomes agape like a fish out of water.

“My apologies,” the words seem to clog at his throat and so he says nothing else. Nodding, “Lord Bridgerton...” and your name before meekly making his way through the crowd, his head down avoiding the gazes of the onlookers.

At this point most of the ton had gone back to their conversations around you, though there were still some lingering eyes as the dance floor had been oddly shaped as you and the Viscount remained standing in part of the appointed area. Anthony notices this and leads you further into the crowd.

Once he finds an agreeable spot he stops turning towards you, “I actually do wish to counter your statement, my lady,” he begins. You expect for a moment to be met with some stern lecture from a man who seems to think he’s entitled to an opinion of you as if he were your father (who you also do not think should have an opinion, but alas it is only 1814). Anthony surprises you however as instead he grins and says, “I actually believe Mr. Hastings would marry his horse if the Queen would allow it.”

And you couldn’t help but laugh, despite all your pride and pettiness to not grace this event or anyone in it with any pleasurable countenance. You laughed loudly tilting your head back, jeweled neck on display even letting out a small snort against your will. When you finally compose yourself, giggles dying down at the thought of Mr. Hastings in a horrid muddy green suit with a horse in a wedding dress, you can’t fight the smile that falls on your lips. Although unnatural to you, the light hearted joke and your vivid imagination make it easy. It lasts for a few seconds before you become very conscious of it as you let your lips fall back to their usual place.

Though if anyone was truly looking for it— which Anthony was— they would see the slight quirk in your lips as you told the Viscount, “It looks like you’ve gained the honor of making me laugh, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“I relish the title, my lady,” he says and you can tell he does from the smile that meets his ears, all teeth and pushed back cheeks. You acknowledge that this might be the realest encounter you have had since your debut. Anthony Bridgerton smiling from ear to ear was a sight to see.

He continues, “But I do have to disagree with the comments I have been hearing tonight. Smile or no smile you present the ladies looking to wed this season with quite the competition.”

“Me? Hardly, did you not hear my Lord, my countenance would never get me a marriage proposal,” you say fiddling with the hem of your gloves at your wrist.

“I would disagree, I think any reasonable man in attendance would be foolish to not see how incomparable you are, my lady.”

Incomparable.

You fight it like you had once your laugh, but you feel the heat spread to your cheeks and the nerves that begin to twist in your stomach. You didn’t need it, but the compliment was well appreciated after a night such as this one.

Giving you no time to compose the fluttering in your chest, Anthony adds, “Any lady who manages to be bold enough to tell Mr. Hasting how insufferable his horse talk is, ranks high in my book.”

“Well you might be the only one, sir,” you try to be as brave as you feel and dare to smile at him, but his gaze causes you to look away bashfully. That is when you notice your mother approaching and wishing not to make a fool in front of the Viscount you excuse yourself, “I do believe my mother has just been informed of the scene I have caused, so if you’ll excuse me.”

But before you can turn to go he calls out your name placing his warm bare hand on your own gloved fingers making you turn back to him.

“Would you save me a dance?”

And despite yourself, Anthony Bridgerton manages again to make you smile, “Of course”.

[saerotonins]

actor!toji headcanons

ft. fushiguro toji x reader

content warnings: fluff, parent!reader, megumi is yalls son, just overall cuteness

wc: 918

note: this is my apology for that nanami angst i posted days ago heh

jjk actor au masterlist

as an actor:

very intimidating man, from his aura to his build, oh boy, who wouldn't be scared

but to everyone's surprise, he's actually just a really goofy and adorable man with a really good resting bitch face lmfao

is actually a household name in the acting industry! definitely those types of actors that once casted into a show, it's guaranteed to get hella VIEWS AND RATINGS

has been in the acting industry for YEARS and has a ton of experience but is still very humble

is actually very shy when his co stars tease him whenever his fans thirst for him whenever he's on screen and he's just a blushing mess LOL

i mean he's a literal dilf so 

believe it or not, this man has been in more romance shows and movies than action, especially as a VILLAIN

his fans couldn't believe it either

so when he was first casted in jjk as a villain who kills CHILDREN they were so ecstatic!

and boy were they so happy when toji SURPASSED their expectations because he was so good!

also so happy that he was casted together with his son, megumi, in the same show!

they usually go to the shoot together and even when he doesn't have a scene to shoot and only megumi does, he drives him off to the shooting site whenever his time permits

it's actually so adorable 

in contrast to jjk!toji, he's really a hands on father to him and is actually very supportive of megumi going to the same career path as him

megumi is also the definition of nepo babies who deserved what they got but that's another discussion 

at first though, he is kind of hesitant especially knowing how toxic can it get with the industry but when he saw his son's determination, he eventually gave him a green light and supported him along the way

this man is so fucking strong OML the producers are so grateful the most of the time he helps cleaning up with the equipment once filming is done

literally lifts them up like it's nothing BYE

listen, this old man is RIPPED and really likes to work out 

he's like pedro pascal who is like really chill but really cheeky when it comes to fanservice LOL he is so adorable 

megumi is kinda cringing though 😭 it's understandable though because that's literally your father trying to act cute and he's a teenager so i don't really blame him

also a big gentleman, again, contrary to his role, he is actually very good with the ladies and often checks with his co stars especially when a fight scene is being filmed

profusely apologized to satoru when their fight was filmed because he literally has to do the stunts himself and make everything believable as much as possible 

has ig and twitter but barely posts unless it's a promotion or a thank you post for the team

he's very active in stories though 😭

and i mean VERY VERY active

you know that point where a person posts too much stories and the lines above almost look like dots??? 

yeah that's him 😭

mostly posts the behind the scenes and his family there!

has a pet chicken that he posts there too

no he's not vegan... he just doesn't eat chicken 😭

as a husband:

oh yeah another married man on set sorry ladies he’s off the market

a very romantic and private lover

especially when you're the only one in the family who is not involved in show business

looks forward to coming home to you all the time

the type of husband who says, "i miss my spouse," on set out of nowhere and his co stars just sigh in faux annoyance 

this man is WHIPPED 

his lines is always and SHOULD always be practiced with you, because aside from his fans (not really though since he's already an established actor), the only approval he looks for is from his lover

is really happy and giddy (almost like a teenage boy like SIR you guys are already married for YEARS) when you praise him and has this really boyish smile which happens very often btw

he's such a fucking sap please

as mentioned, he is kinda shy about the thirst but is not uncomfortable and actually goes along with it

you on the other hand GO HAM with it LOL

you're one of the fans lmfaoooo

a very BIG ONE

unlike him who is not active on twitter, you actually reply to fans and agree what they were saying and fangirl/boy with them which is actually so adorable LOL

his fandom is having a field day of you gushing about your husband like you're not married to him and have a literal CHILD with him bye

both megumi and toji, especially toji, are very protective of you so any slanderous rumors from the tabloids and any defamation will immediately face a lawsuit 

and fans love it when y'all fight back!!

if they stan either toji or megumi, it's immediately a given that they also stan you LOL

your boys both find it cute that even you have a very supportive fanbase like theirs

[celestialholz]

Live long and fuck in Hondas (or 'why that Vulcan salute is way more significant than you think it is')

Hey. Hey Holz. Did you know Deadpool and Wolverine fucked in the Odyessy? Did you know that they now live in a one-bed with Blind Al? Did you know that -

Yes, friend. I know all of it. And you're all super fucking valid for pointing it out.

... But maybe all of you aren't seasoned Trekkies like me. Maybe not all of you gorgeous people understand the true significance of this.

Or maybe you just want a definitive way to win the argument of "are these two fucking?"

But either way, I'm here to help, and to tell you why, amongst all the absurdly homoerotic text of this film, this moment? Might be the gayest of them all.

Now, we must start by saying that although you wouldn't know it from the bullshit Abrams films, these two:

Are the fathers of gay fanfiction. Spock and Kirk here are the reason you're living in the fantastic timeline where you can write/read men fucking without any other shred of plot and that this is a legitimate and normalised internet experience - everyone say thank you, iconic papas. These guys were so homoerotically coded that even in the 60s, the era of wondrously overdramatic performances of all kinds and fairly prevalent homophobia, The Girlies still took notice, still started mailing each other fics and making zines and being just hugely excited at the thought of these two getting space-married. They are fandom as we know it today's beginning, and seventy years later they're still an enduringly popular ship on AO3. (You should all go and watch Amok Time, by the way. Contains the Honda Odyessy scene of the 60s, except there's weird biology and wrestling and just go and put it on your screens, thank me later. They fucked on that planet.)

Anyway, these two were as close as early colour TV could ever allow two men to be, deepening their *coughs* friendship almost every single episode or film - Trek's creator Gene Roddenberry even gave them a unique word in Spock's Vulcan language, with the meaning of 'friend, brother, lover.' (And if that isn't ringing any Poolverine bells, I'm not actually sure what you want out of this post. Enjoy it anyway, love you.)

... And then we get to 1982's The Wrath of Khan, and to that moment that every iconic screen couple must face - the ol' classic, it's you or me and I won't let it be you.

Sure, the set-up's a little different here - the chamber Spock's in is filled with radiation, and the scene's quieter, softer. And Kirk isn't a mutant so he can't smash his way in, he can just sit there and inwardly die as his emotional support Vulcan does.

... But you get where I'm coming from here. Ryan Reynolds doesn't take a million other potential love scenes from across the cinematic ages - no, he takes this. What is for many the romantic acknowledgement of a whole generation. The humble and desperately sweet beginning of it everything we fans know and love nowadays. The most ambiguously romantic homosexual relationship in television, directly comparative to what is now arguably the most ambiguously romantic homosexual relationship in cinema. And lest we forget, Wade doesn't believe in a fourth wall - this is a conscious choice, both in canon and in the writer's room.

Oh it's so clever and so beautiful a girl could weep. Ryan just introduced the MCU to the gays, just as Kirk and Spock did all those years ago to the masses of the time.

And then there's what it means.

This is the Vulcan salute, created to mean either 'live long and prosper' or 'peace and long life' - it's used more or less interchangeably.

But part of that's irrelevant when you're as immortal as these two.

So we're left with the sentiments of prosperity and peace, given to a man who up to this point can't imagine ever prospering again, is the furthest thing away from being at peace. Wade gives Logan the opportunity to go on, to find the things he's been lacking for so long now - things he has already helped him find. Spock tells Kirk during The Wrath that 'the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few,' and that's exactly what Wade's doing here - sacrificing himself for the greater good of his friends and his newly beloved, however much it will hurt them all.

And that's lovely, and poignant, and character-growing, and I think we all would have been content to leave it at that and have our noble sacrifice, however much we would have wept. Kirk goes on to find the remnants of Spock's soul in the next film in the series, to bring him essentially back from the dead because he felt it was more than his own soul's worth not to have done... which, again, ringing a bell anyone?

Because Logan, in not so many words, tells dear Wade to fuck right off, and we get this.

What we've got here is a direct translation of one of cinema's gayest moments, made somehow infinitely more gay. A true achievement here - I genuinely think I spontaneously acquired tetanus in the cinema for a good minute, my jaw dropped so hard on seeing this. The pillars are the same colour as Kirk and Spock's original uniforms, for fuck's sake. I'm dying out here.

What we've done here is create narrative equality. The whole film's kinda done that leading up to this anyway - they're both mentally fucked up men who can't die, who are constantly dying anyway, who are evenly-matched in battle and both enjoy Honda fucking, who have forged a real love even as they piss each other off at every turn.

But here, they place one another in narrative equality for the first time. It's not about a sacrifice, not now, even though they're assuming it is one - it's about what should be done. It's about righting wrongs, being heroes, being together because every option other than that is unacceptable, because neither understands quite how to lose anyone else. They've both made the same choice, and that's not to let the other die alone.

It's about holding hands and loving and never letting go, even if it kills them.

... It's just about the most romantic and gorgeous thing I've ever fucking seen.

There are no more instances of masks, once they're done in this station. They don't need them any longer; they will never need them again.

And that's only emphasised by the parting shot we get of this... almost directly after Vanessa and Wade share a final sweet look.

I don't know, man. It's almost like the true conclusion is hidden behind the acceptable masquerade. Imagine that in the MCU, folks.

They've taken one of the most intimate and sweet moments in screen history, and made even more glorious.

They did The Wrath of Khan better than The Wrath of Khan did it.

And that's... that's gay. That's just about the gayest thing they could ever have done, and I adore it to the smallest pieces.

So remember, the next time your friends disbelieve you... show 'em this. Show them that they redid the very beginnings of slash fandom, and did it better.

(And then you can add on that they now live in a one-bed with their grandma, daughter and dog, and will do for the rest of their lives. Kirk and Spock didn't even get THAT shit.)

[skyahri]

How They Found Out P2 |Naruto Men X Reader| HC

Part One Masterlist Ko-fi

Characters: Sasuke Uchiha, Shikamaru Nara, Kakashi Hatake

Summary: The aftermath of your relationship becoming public. Part two to How They Found Out

Warnings: Mentions of sex, marriage, kids. Pretty low key tbh.

- - - - -

Sasuke Uchiha

What an absolute nightmare.

Once you heard the front door shut, Sasuke basically collapsed on top of you.

He groaned. His night had been ruined, and on top of it, Naruto was sure to cause drama for the coming days.

"It's okay, Sasuke. They were sure to find out anyway."

"Our relationship going public and Naruto catching us having sex are two very different issues, and it's a bit concerning that you think I'm worried about the latter."

You kick him off of you with a laugh and suggest a shower. There was no way your escapades could continue on after all the fuss.

The next morning, you basically had to drag Sasuke out of the house.

He'd been moaning and groaning and grumbling since last night, so much so that he started to sound like Shikamaru.

Who knew Sasuke could complain so much.

Once you were out the door and the second your friend's eyes caught you, they pounced.

All at once, they hounded you about what Naruto may or may not have seen (Naruto has a habit of being a bad storyteller, so who knows what actually went down)

Sasuke refused to answer any questions until the chaos had settled down. They did eventually, albeit reluctantly.

"It's true."

That just sent them all reeling again, begging for details.

You two already discussed what you'd keep secret and what you'd share, so the meeting went pretty smoothly once everyone agreed to keep their composure.

Until fucking Sakura started asking questions about your sex life.

After that, you zipped your mouth and refused to answer anything further.

They'd just have to live on not knowing anything.

Shikamaru Nara

After news got out, Ino decided it was her place to convince Shikamaru to, in her words, "be a man and ask her out already!"

He ignored her, convinced she was full of it and brushed her off.

But her words lingered in his head.

Your friends were all beginning to settle down; Naruto and Hinata had just gotten married. Talk of kids had started to circulate in the group.

Were you wanting marriage and children?

The slow buzzing quickly turned into an almost constant fog in his mind. He'd never been so distracted before.

What a drag.

Within the week, he was knocking on your door.

"I need to ask you about something."

Weird. You could read him pretty well at this point, but this energy he was putting off was new.

"What's up, Shika?"

"Do you want to get married?"

Your eyes widened and jaw dropped. When you tried to answer, you found yourself at a loss of words.

"I mean, damnit, I- do you want to get married eventually? Or have kids at some point?"

You stared at him like he had two heads.

"Are you feeling alright? Why don't you come inside?"

He didn't fight you. He walked in and sat at your table in silence while you made him some tea.

You'd pried it out of him that Ino was behind this sudden change, and assured him that things would be okay.

"Look, I never brought it up because I know you're not a feelings guy, buy yeah, I guess I would like to have a family. I thought that's what you wanted, too?"

He got that irritated look on his face. The one he always gets when people ask him to work.

"It is, but,"

"But don't worry about it. I work on your time, so whenever you're ready."

You gave him a kiss on the cheek.

He let out a sigh of relief, glad to have fallen into such a situation with someone who understands him so well.

"Not too long, though. It's been almost two years, Shika."

On second thought, this was a total drag.

Kakashi Hatake

The next morning, you two made sure to bump into his students.

They seemed rather pleased with themselves, that they had been the ones to finally catch Kakashi lacking.

It only took a single look for Sasuke to realize it was all fake. They'd been bested by their sensei once again.

That quick glance he got from Kakashi told him not to say anything to the others, which he hadn't planned on anyway.

"Kakashi sensei, why didn't you ever tell us you were seeing someone?"

He set a hand on Sakuras head and ruffled her hair.

"I try not to share my personal matters with children. That's what friends are for."

Enter Gai, who happened to hear.

"You didn't tell us either, Kakashi."

He just shrugged, sending Gai into a fit.

News traveled fast in the village. What else is to be expected when romance rumors come up about the Hokage?

Kakashi was actually very calm about the whole thing.

Despite dreading this day for a long time, he was actually very content with the outcome.

There had been so much going on when you initially got together. Wars and death and PTSD and all that.

But now was a time of peace. A perfect time to actually start living, and this was just the beginning.

[bosbas]

Chapter 6: oh, my, love is a lie

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!daphne's best friend!reader WC: 1.2k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love, mentions of pregnancy, dual pov so it might be confusing sorryyyyy

Summary: At her wit's end after Anthony's multiple attempts to scare away her suitors, Daphne employs her best friend's help to keep her brother distracted while she tries to find a husband. It's a foolproof plan, except it ends up working a little too well. (or, a Bridgerton version of The Taming of the Shrew/10 things I hate about you)

A/N: sorry this is a shorter one but it made more sense to divide it up this way! already working on the next chapter so dw <3

July 8, 1812 - “I beg your pardon?”

Daphne paled. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean-“ she started, choking up immediately. “It’s not-”

“I. Beg. Your. Pardon?” asked Anthony again, his voice steely.

“It’s not like that anymore though, I swear!” cried Daphne, desperate to fix this. “She’s definitely in love with you!”

“She told you this?”

“Well… not exactly,” Daphne finished lamely, not quite sure what to do in this situation. Lying would have probably made it worse at this point, and Daphne wasn’t entirely sure that you’d come to understand your feelings yet.

Shaking his head, Anthony turned to leave the room. “I must go,” he said forcefully, the ire evident in his voice.

---

You stood up as a smile uncontrollably made its way to your lips as you heard the door to your sunroom open, but it dropped just as quickly when you saw that Anthony was furious.

He didn't even bother to greet you as was dictated by social norms. He just stood in the room, breathing heavily and glaring at you as you stood across from him.

“Is it true?” he asked finally, poison dripping from his voice.

You offered him only a perplexed look, not entirely sure what he was referring to but having an excellent idea.

“What Daphne just told me. That you were never interested in me,” he continued, his eyes two angry slits as he stared you down menacingly.

“No, that’s not exactly-”

“So she was lying, then. You didn’t start courting me just to help her find a match,” he said, his voice softening just the tiniest bit.

Your face felt hot, and in fact, the whole room felt far too hot. You looked at Anthony uncomfortably as he waited for your answer.

“No, she wasn’t lying,” you said finally, sounding defeated. “I- I’m so sorry, Anthony. But you have to know I never meant for it to go this far, I just so caught up and I- I just didn’t…” you cut yourself off, too emotional to continue speaking.

Tears rolled freely down your cheeks as you asked yourself, how had everything gotten so messed up? A mere twelve hours ago you were in his arms, having just had the most magical night of your life.

Anthony could only blink at you as he felt his heart drop. He should’ve known this was too good to be true. Of course you weren’t truly interested in him. He didn’t know why he was so surprised.

He supposed he had to hate you now. No one had ever hurt him in this manner, mostly because he hadn’t ever let anyone in as much as he had with you.

But he was still a Bridgerton. And Bridgertons acted with honor. There was a chance you were pregnant, and he was not about to leave you stranded when you were in such a precarious societal position.

Anthony swallowed roughly, trying to gather the courage to speak as though he was unbothered. “Very well, then. I suppose not much can be done about that now. I will speak to your father at once and we can get married next week.”

Your eyebrows shot up. What on earth was he on about? “You can’t marry me,” you said firmly.

He couldn’t. You couldn’t do that to him. You had already hurt him enough.

Anthony sighed in annoyance. “Yes, I can. I will marry you because I am an honorable man. Not for any singular other reason. My reputation is-”

You scoffed, “Oh, what reputation, Anthony? Everyone already thinks you’re the biggest rake in the ton. No one would be surprised by one more conquest, so why are you so insistent that we marry?”

So this is what you truly thought of him, thought Anthony. It was no wonder you didn't feel the same for him as he did for you.

“Because I have respect for you!" he shot back. “Though I can see you have none for me. But that is just fine. I never asked for it, and I don’t need it. All I need is for my family to remain in good standing and for your hand in marriage.”

“I will do no such thing,” you said, scandalized.

“But what if you are with child?” Anthony replied, growing more and more exasperated.

“I am not with child.”

“You cannot possibly know that!”

“I can hope.”

Anthony’s jaw dropped. “How can you say that? After everything we went through?”

Sure, he had never felt pain this intensely in his life. And sure, it was your fault. But he was still shocked that you could wish for such a thing. This only further confirmed his fears that what he felt for you was wildly disproportionate to what you felt for him.

You sniffed, “Look where we are now, Anthony. You hate—me and rightfully so, might I add. So no, I do not wish to have a child with a man who despises me. It’s quite simple really.”

More than that, you didn't think you deserved to marry someone so kind. Someone so loving and perfect. And because you loved Anthony so much you would have rather seen him with someone who hadn't started a courtship with him as a ploy than have him end up with you.

“But you will be ruined!” he pressed.

“Then so be it,” you said decidedly, your voice wavering slightly.

But Anthony was having none of it. It was bad enough that you had completely shattered his heart, you were extremely stubborn when he was trying to do the right thing.

“For heaven’s sake, Y/N. If you will not do it for me or yourself at least do it for my family. For yours.”

“You know my father does not care what I do,” you started, but you knew it was a lost battle. Anthony was right. The Bridgerton family would surely suffer if you had his child out of wedlock, and that was the last thing you wanted. You had harmed them enough already.

But you weren’t ready to completely give up just yet.

“Very well,” you relented. “I see your point, but my courses are due next week. We can put off the proposal by a week, surely?”

Anthony pinched his nose, feeling a headache of annoyance coming on. Why did he have to fall for the most infuriating woman in the ton? The only person who was sure to challenge him whenever possible?

“Yes, we can wait a week,” he asserted.

A week couldn’t come soon enough. Though Anthony’s heart was broken, he couldn’t help the small part of him that was holding out hope for you to miss your courses.

Surely you could learn to love him if you were with child. It would give him the opportunity to try his best to make you love him back, which would likely be easier if you were already married to him. It wasn’t ideal, of course, but it gave him hope.

This wasn’t over yet. It couldn’t be. He was still in love with you, and perhaps with time, you could come to love him too. 

—

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[afro-hispwriter]

My Dornish Love

Aemond Targaryen x Martell!reader

Warnings- arranged marriages, heavy implications of masturbation

Wc- 2.3k

I don’t intend for this to be the only part, but we’ll see.

part 2

-

A marriage proposal between Martells and Targaryens isn’t unheard of. But the Martells always refuse in the end. They were far too stubborn and prideful the council members would think. 

There was a war coming, and everyone knew. The greens need all the support they can get. And having Dorne on their side can turn things around heavily. Dorne may not have large numbers of fighters, but their skills make up for it. 

When Qoren Martell received a letter from Queen Alicent in hopes that he would accept a marriage between his eldest daughter and her second son. Everyone expected the prince to decline, but he surprised everyone by agreeing. It was a tour for her to get to know the Prince but it was clear the decision had already been made regardless.

When you, the princess, found out. You were furious.

“I don’t understand, we have never accepted anything that would mean having Dorne become part of the kingdoms.” You paced in front of your father.

“And it is time to change that.” He says and you huff. 

“You know why they’re doing this, the Targaryens are on the brink of yet another war and they are making sure to bring everyone into it.” 

“We don’t know that.” 

“Yes we do, and you’re putting me in it.” When he didn’t respond you turned away to start walking away.

“Its simply a tour to see if you are compatible, Y/n. You and your brothers will be sailing for Kings Landing in two days, be ready.” 

-

Those two days came by quickly. Your handmaidens had some of your things packed for those three weeks and the ship loaders were finishing up. 

“What if I don’t like him?” You ask your father as both of you wait on the docks.

“Then you don’t marry him.”

“Im sure the decision is already made. This tour is just a formality.” You cross your arms. “You won’t even be there.”

“Your brothers will be there in my place.”

“What if he is cruel? Targaryen men are said to be cruel.” 

“Then I'm sure his death will be deemed a mere accident.” His voice almost had an amusing tone. A shipmaster called out that everything was ready. Qoren grabbed you by your arms and turned you to face him. “Write to me.”

“I will.” Your lip quivered and he kissed your forehead before grabbing your hand to guide you to a boat. Your brothers, Ryon and Deziel jumped in after you.

“Don’t miss us too much,” Deziel says waving at the man and Ryon rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t destroy Kings Landing,” Qoren says and walks away with his hands behind his back.

-

Aemond knew this conversation would come. This is what he was waiting for. He would do his duty, and he hoped the Dornish woman would agree. 

“I'm sure you hear how unprincipled the women of Dorne are, brother.” Aegon laughed next to Aemond. “They are wild in the brothels now imagine the princess herself.” Aemond continued to ignore him and paid attention to his book. “But I'm sure you know enough thanks to me.” Aemond tightened his hand on the book. “But I never see you have fun so you might have to rely on your betrothed.” 

Aemond slammed the book shut and stood up. 

“They will be here soon.” He says and starts walking out of the library. 

“The ship was only recently spotted and even then they are still a few days out. Don’t get your cock in a bunch.” Aegon mumbled the last bit into his cup. “Or maybe you can’t wait to stick-.” He was cut off by the library door slamming shut. 

-

Once the ship flying the flag of House Martell was seen on the Blackwater. The people of King's Landing were eager to see the Princes’ and the Princess themselves as most of them had only seen Dornish merchants.

The royal family went by carriage. Alicent gave her children one of her talks about being on their best behavior. It was mostly pointed at Aegon who sat there bored, Helaena sat fiddling with a bracelet, while Aemond looked out the windows. The carriage stopped just a few feet from the docks and a queen's guard member opened the door. Alicent stepped out first, followed by Helaena, then Aemond, and finally Aegon. 

A few ships had already docked. Mostly merchants were eager to set up their shops or make deliveries. The ship said to be carrying the princess and the princes docked and a plank was lowered. A herald of Dorne stepped out first and looked at the family. 

“Prince Ryon, Prince Deziel, and Princess Y/n Martell of Dorne!” People cheered loudly and clapped as they watched the three of you step off the boat. 

You grab Deziel’s hand and he helps you step off. The guards stepped off after and cleared a path. Ryon and Deziel kept their hands on the hilds of their swords as they began walking.

“I see the Queen and her children,” Ryon says and juts his chin over the hill. You looked over and saw the red-headed woman and the three silver-headed princes and princess. 

You looped yours and Deziel’s arms together and Ryon led you up the steps. You instantly saw the man who is your betrothed. He stood tall by his family, hands behind his back and a stoic look on his face. 

“The terrible, Prince Aemond,” Deziel whispers in your ear and you roll your eyes.

“Stop, I'm sure they are just rumors.” 

“Sure.” 

Ryon opened his arms with a smile.

“Your grace, how well it is to see you.” He says and grabs Alicents hands with care and brings them up to his plump lips. 

“Prince Ryon, the last time I saw you, you were a child.” She says with a slight blush. 

“Yes, well as you see. I have grown quite a bit.” If you knew your brother, you were sure he gave the queen a wink and his charming smile that makes so many women and men fall at his feet. Alicents face went redder and Ryon squeezed her hands before releasing them. “As much as I enjoy your presence, your grace, I was hoping to see the Hand. Speak to him about my sister and your second son.” Ryon flashed a look at Aemond.

“My father has other matters but I assure you, the Princess will be taken care of.” Ryon looked around before nodding.

“My brother will ride with all of you to the Keep as well. I still have other matters to deal with for my father.” 

“Of course.” The Queen says then looks at Aemond. “Aemond.” She gave him a tight-lipped smile and he knew what that meant. He stepped forward, his long legs had him in front of you. 

“Princess, I'm glad you are here.” His voice was cold but his face was neutral. He grabbed your hand and kissed it softly. You squint your eyes at him before smiling brightly.

“Prince Aemond, it is lovely to meet you.” 

“Hmm.” He dropped your hand and held his own back behind him. He stared at you, mostly taking you in while trying not to linger on your cleavage. Did you have a belly piercing? 

“Oh darling you should cover up a bit, someone brings the princess something to cover up.” Alicent urged and you instantly frowned.

“No it's alright your grace, I wear clothes like this all the time.” She gave you a tight-lipped smile before nodding.

“Well we best get back, you must be exhausted.” Alicent walked back to the carriage and Aemond stayed by you.

“Apologies about her, she is very modest.” He says and you shrug.

“Well, she is going to have to get used to it.” You say to him softly so nobody can hear. You received no response making you roll your eyes. 

“Let's get you home Princess.” You frowned.

Home?

-

When you sat next to Aemond in the carriage, your perfume hit his nostrils. You smelled heavenly, like fruit with a twinge of the salty sea. Nobody spoke on the road back to the Keep. 

But you and Deziel admired the outside. You had never been to Kings Landing so it was all new territory for you. It made you nervous. 

The horses stopped in front of the Keep and the door popped open. The Queen and Helaena left first, then Aegon, followed by Deziel, and finally you and Aemond. The castle was huge, you and Deziel started at it in awe. 

“It's quite ugly.” He says quietly you gasp and slapped his arm. 

“Deziel! Don’t say things like that.” Everyone looked at you in confusion so you just smiled reassuringly.  

“Our handmaiden, Thea.” Alicent beckoned over one of the servants. She was a pretty girl, with brown hair, fair skin, and green eyes. “I have assigned her to your service, she will lead you to your temporary chambers until a decision is made. Your brother as well will be shown his way.”

“Thank you, your grace.” She squeezes your bicep before leaving to go inside.

“Princess, would you like me to show you your room? I'm sure you are tired.” Thea asks and you nod.

“Lead the way.” She gives you a big smile before turning around. You start to follow her and you see Deziel had already been led away. You locked eyes with Aemond who stood by the horses now, watching you. “I will see you later, Prince Aemond.” 

-

“Your things will be brought up shortly princess, would you like me to draw you a bath in the meantime?” Thea asks and points to the small tub in your new room. 

“Yes and if you have any salts that would be greatly appreciated.” They did a small bow before leaving. You were finally alone, even if it were for a couple of minutes. Your new room was only a bit bigger than the one back in Dorne but extremely boring. 

You took the liberty of stepping onto the balcony to see where you would be living. The view was beautiful. Birds flew and you could see how tiny the small folk looked. 

It all still looked so sad, maybe it was the time of day but it made you miss Dorne all the same. They came in with some help to fill up the tub with warm water. She then dumped some soothing salts into the water.  

“Would you like help in undressing princess?” She asks and you shake your head. 

“No, that's quite alright, I will send for you once I'm ready.” She bowed and left. You hovered your hand over the water, letting the steam hit it. You slipped the material of your dress down your shoulder and it pooled at your feet. You kicked your flats off so they clattered on the floor. You grabbed the edges of the tub and slowly settled into the water. 

The warm water was welcoming after being at sea for over a week. You could have slept in it if it weren’t for a knock on the door. 

“Come in!” You yelled out and the door creaked open and you heard footsteps.

“Princess?” It was none other than your betrothed.

“Over here, Aemond.” You say and turn your head to face the panels that cover the tub from sight. 

“I wondered-.” Aemond rounded the corner and the second he locked eyes on your state, his long legs had him behind the panels again. 

“My apologies, I will leave you to your business.” He said and there was a slight shake to his voice.

“Cut the shit Aemond.” You say and he freezes. “Come back, I want to talk to you.” He didn’t move but you could see the top of his head. “I want to see the face of a man I might marry when I talk to him.”

“You’re not decent princess.”

“Oh stop being so honorable for 5 minutes please.” He heard the water move around. Aemond sighed before rounding the corner and revealing himself again. His breath hitched when he saw your figure, you sat facing him and the lack of bubbles gave him a clear view of your breasts. “Soak it in my prince, who knows how long it will be before you see me like this again.” 

Aemonds face turned pink at your words and suddenly his boots were the most interesting thing in the world.

“You stand strong but standing in the presence of a naked woman you shrink.” His fists squeezed. “Would you like to feel the touch of a woman?”

“What did you want to talk about my lady?” He says harshly, making you smirk. 

“I want to talk about our potential betrothal. Regardless of our choice, its clear this is dire enough that we need to get married but I will ask you , Aemond.” He looked up, this time his eye solely on your face. “Will you sleep with anyone else?”

“No, I will remain faithful to you during this as long as I receive the same from you. This isn’t Dorne.”

“I am aware, Aemond.” You frown. “I would like to get to know you though, maybe something good can come out of this.” His jaw tightened but it then relaxed.

“Of course, my lady.” 

“Y/n.” You say. “Call me by my name Aemond, we are going to get very close.”

“As you wish.” Aemonds hands went behind his back. 

“As much as I enjoy having you here, I'm sure they are close to bringing my things, so I can either make room in this tub for you or you best be on your way.” You say and grab the bar of soap and washcloth. “Or you can watch and just hide.” There was an amusing look on your face. 

He let out a ‘Hmm’ and gave you a small smile. 

“Another time, Y/n.” Your name rolled off his tongue so fluently. Aemond walked away until he made it to the door and shut it behind him. 

“You will be the death of me Aemond Targaryen.” And your hand dips into the water to find a home in between your legs.

-

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always greatly appreciated, they help me keep going!

[starkidmunson]

damned if i do (give a damn what people say)

It seems Steve Harrington is back off the market

The latest news on the pop star’s love life comes mere weeks after word of a fallout with longtime beau, journalist Nancy Wheeler. While neither party has confirmed the rumors, many of Harrington’s closest friends have hinted at the end of the relationship in interviews and on social media.

One thing everyone failed to mention, however, is that Harrington appears to have moved on and is now dating Corroded Coffin front-man, Eddie Munson.

The two have been friends for years, tracing as far back as the early 2010s, though it’s difficult to put a pin in exactly when they met. Neither are particularly vocal about their personal lives and often change the subject when the other comes up in an interview; a diversion tactic they’ve been playing for years.

Still, the alleged new couple has been spotted around some of Harrington’s favorite Manhattan hot spots several times over the past week.

The rockstar has a bit of an edgier vibe than Harrington’s usual flings; more outspoken and unpredictable than the ‘type’ Steve has typically shown an interest in; at least publicly.

Only time will tell if “Steddie” (so dubbed by the fans in support of the relationship) is true… and if they’ll last.

_____

“I can’t believe they think I’m dating Eddie,” Steve grumbled into the pillow on the floor of his hotel room. With a huff, he turned his head and looked off to the wall on the far side of the room. “I mean, it’s crazy that I can’t go out to dinner with anyone besides you and not be on a date.”

Robin leveled her foot to the center of his back, before shifting her weight onto it, then grinned in satisfaction as Steve groaned and his back popped loudly in several places. “It’s not like it’s that surprising. The tabloids went feral over you and Nancy breaking up after they were convinced you guys were already secretly married.” She shifted her weight back off him, dropping to sit cross-legged beside Steve. “Plus, it’s not that much of a stretch.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asked, pushing himself up until he was sitting with his back against the wall, leg stretched out against Robin’s.

“It means you two have never looked at each other the way friends do. It makes sense that they’re picking that up.” Robin shrugged, brushing off her comment like it wasn’t shattering part of Steve’s bubble.

“We look at each other totally normally!”

The look Robin leveled Steve with had him pushing himself up off the floor and making his way toward the bathroom.

“I don’t have time for this right now, I need to start getting ready, but we don’t do anything normal friends wouldn’t because that’s what we are, Robin!”

“Are you trying to convince yourself of that, or me?” Robin asked and sighed heavily when Steve slammed the bathroom door closed in response.

It was only about five minutes before there was a familiar knock at the door; three in quick succession, followed by two after a short pause.

“I think we need to talk, sweetheart,” was understandable, despite being muffled by the door, before Steve was racing out of the bathroom to beat Robin to undoing the locks and letting Eddie in. “Why didn’t you tell me we’re dating?” Eddie asked through a pout, leaned against the doorframe.

Steve rolled his eyes and moved out of the way, letting Eddie follow him inside, before pointing at Robin. “See! Very much not dating!”

“Well,” Eddie started, teasingly, only to get hit in the face with a pillow from Steve’s bed. “I’m kidding, Steve. It’s not even a bad thing. I mean, they’re actually being really fucking cool about you being bisexual.”

“Being out as bi doesn’t mean that every person, regardless of their gender, is automatically my love interest just because I breathed near them.” Steve snapped, obviously frustrated despite Eddie’s attempts to ease the situation.

“Hey. Don’t get mean. You know what’s not what Eddie meant.” Robin responded. Steve looked back and forth between the two of them for a long moment, before he collapsed, face first, onto his mattress with a loud groan.

“C’mon, there’s no need to meltdown over this. If you want me to, I can post something about catching up with old friends to try to make it go away.” Eddie offered, gently, sitting down on the opposite side of the bed from Steve.

It took a long beat, but Steve eventually lifted his head from his pillows and shrugged. “I don’t want to make you do anything like that. It’s fine. It’ll all work out in the end. I'm just having a weird day, I guess.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, and when Steve didn’t elaborate, he turned his head to Robin, who shrugged.

“Nancy texted him this morning asking to not talk about her at shows and he’s been in a sour mood about it since.”

“Robin!” Steve groaned, pressing his face back into his pillow miserably.

“Have you been, though?” Eddie asked, confused. “Talking about her, I mean? I thought I was doing a decent job at getting the highlights and I have no memory of you dropping anything profound about you and Nance on any crowds.”

“Not directly,” Steve spoke into his pillow, before turning his head and staring at the wall as he answered. “I made a few comments about my songs. How to get someone back. How to gaslight someone into thinking you love them before letting everything go at the drop of a hat for one of your best friends.”

A silence settled over the room for a moment, before Eddie burst into giggles, which set Robin off. Eventually Steve joined in, turning his attention to the two of them with a heavy sigh.

“I guess I was an asshole about it, huh?”

“I think it’s justifiable.” Eddie offered, to which Robin nodded in agreement as she started toying with Steve’s hair. “If you feel like you’re going to say something about Nancy, you could always say something to me instead. Really confuse the shit out of everyone.” He teased, but Steve beamed.

“Wait, that’s actually a great idea.”

Robin looked apprehensive, holding her hands in the air. “Steve, you remember you just freaked out about this, right? And now you’re going to play into it? Publicly?”

“It’ll be fun. I’m not gonna say anything directly about Eddie. But just. References. And then we can watch the fans lose their shit on TikTok later.” Steve reasoned with a grin, and Eddie smiled back at him.

“I promise to spend the entire show dancing my ass off and singing along. For the bit.” Eddie said, his hand over his heart.

“You do that anyway, you’re just usually backstage.” Robin pointed out, and Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Well, obviously, I have to join you and Dustin in the family tent tonight. Duh.”

“Yes!” Steve agreed with a laugh. “This is going to be so much fun!”

“You’re both psychotic.”

_____

“Indianapolis, you're making me feel awfully special tonight.” Steve bit at his lip as he looked around Lucas Oil Stadium to thousands of people screaming back at him. “This is as close to a hometown show as I really get these days, so thank you for always making sure to remind me how special of a place home is.”

The music started to pick up again, but Steve kept talking. “I kind of spent the last few years coasting by without anyone paying too much attention, but now that I’m back on the road, everyone’s suddenly deeply invested in my life, and it's strange to be back so close to somewhere I called home for so long, in the same position I was in five years ago.” He ran his fingers through his hair, before huffing out a laugh.

“But you guys, you've always been there. Unwavering in a way I will never be able to express my gratitude for.” he paused to glance around the crowd again, grinning as they cheered. “Not many people can say the same, you know?”

“Where is he going with this?” Dustin asked, leaning close to Robin, who shrugged, trying not to have a visible reaction. There were always cameras on them in public like this. Any reaction would be taken out of context and exaggerated.

“Did you see the tabloid rumors about Eddie and Steve?” She replied, and couldn’t help but smile as Dustin’s head whipped back forward to Steve.

“I mean, there’s Robbie, the kids I used to babysit. And, uh…” he trailed off, which Eddie took as his cue to move to the front of the family tent. “Maybe someone else. This one's for you.” Steve said, leaving the “you” ambiguous enough to be open for interpretation.

Eddie, hamming it up, made a heart with his hands, before immediately starting to headbang along to the love song next in the setlist.

_____

In a surprising twist, Dustin managed to wait until the security team had moved them out of the crowd and behind the stage with the crew nearly two hours later before his outburst.

“What the fuck?!” He asked as soon as the were away from the crowd. “Why are you two playing into this? It’s just going to get more headlines and attention on the two of you, which neither of you usually like!”

“But it’s different if it’s on our terms.” Eddie responded, not even looking up from his phone as he answered Dustin.

“Is it, though? Is it really on your terms if it’s not even true?” Dustin sounded exasperated, and while Robin could relate, she was planning on sitting this one out until Eddie shoved his phone into her face.

“It’s already on TikTok. 4 videos in.” He said with a grin as Robin watched Eddie make a hand heart toward the stage before his hair started flopping all over as he sang along. The clip was captioned “steddie is real!!!”

“So you’re proud you’re deceiving fans?” She asked, which made Eddie’s grin fall.

“Don't be so dramatic,” Steve called as he approached from the stage exit. He was covered in sweat and still in his performance clothes, holding a half empty water bottle. “It’s all in good fun. They never need to know if it was real or not.”

“I think you’re downplaying this by a lot. What happens the next time one of you is seen out on a date?” Dustin pressed, and continued despite the way Steve rolled his eyes. “I mean it, an honest to god date. People are going to lose their minds, trying to figure out what broke up Steve and Eddie, when you were never even together in the first place! They’ll turn you against each other, they always do. And if you weren’t dating, isn’t that just as bad of a look?”

“Woah. Henderson. Chill. It’ll be fine, man. You’re WAY overthinking this.” Eddie said, before he grinned at Steve. “Could you see my hand heart from the stage?”

“I could. Did you catch the wink I sent your way at the end of the song?”

“I did, nice touch! I patted my hand over my heart, so maybe that’ll end up on social, too.”

“I’m going to throw myself into the White River.” Dustin groans loudly, to a round of laughs and elbow nudges.

_____

Steve could pinpoint the exact moment things finally felt out of hand two weeks later.

He was getting ready for the show that will wrap up his first weekend at his “home away from home” in 5 years when Eddie texted him about being late to that night’s show.

It shouldn’t have mattered.

Eddie had missed the last two shows in Chicago

It shouldn’t matter.

Eddie’d been there, religiously, at the 4 shows before Chicago on the tour, and 6 others before that when his band wasn’t playing their own concerts. Steve even made 3 trips of his own to Corroded Coffin shows, around his own obligations.

But it still made him frown at his phone for a moment too long. Long enough Robin caught him.

“More headlines about Steddie?” She asked, slipping the phone from his hands before he could stop her. When she read over the message, though, her expression softened. “Oh, Steve, I’m sorry.”

“It’s no big deal.” Steve rushed out, snatching his phone back and shoving it into his pocket. “It’s fine. I’m not upset, there’s no reason to feel sorry. Besides, he just said he’ll be late, he didn’t say he isn’t coming.”

“Would you be upset if he wasn’t coming, then?” Robin asked. Steve glared daggers at her, and sighed when she held her hands in the air, feigning innocence.

“I don’t know.” He mumbled, honestly.

___

The intro tape was just about to start as Steve was making his usual trek toward his starting point, when he heard someone running and calling his name from behind him, rather than out in the crowd. He paused and turned, to see Eddie rushing toward him.

“I’m so sorry, I just wanted you to see that I made it before you went on!” He was out of breath, his hair more wild from running than usual, and Steve…

Well, frankly, Steve was tired of pretending like Eddie wasn’t the hottest person he’d ever seen.

So Steve met Eddie halfway, threw his arms around his neck and pressed their lips together in a move Eddie seemed to have anticipated because he wasted no time returning the favor.

It was only Steve’s cue music that had him breaking away, biting at his lip and grinning at Eddie, who grinned back at him, before using the hands he’d placed on Steve’s waist at some point in the interaction to turn Steve toward the stage.

“Go, before you miss the start of your own show, superstar. I’ll still be here after.” Eddie said.

“Promise?” Steve called over his shoulder as he made his way toward the stage’s catwalk.

“Cross my heart, big boy.” Eddie drew an x over his heart for dramatic effect, then laughed and ran his fingers through his hair as he watched Steve run to make it to his place on time.

[gudfornuthin]

Unexpected Comfort

Season 4!Diego x fem!reader, (past) Five x reader

! SPOILERS AHEAD !

! MINORS DNI !

Summary: after finding out the news about Lila and Five’s relationship, Y/N needs to get away from it all. Who knew she’d find comfort in the one other person broken too?

Word count: 2.65k words

A/N: ayooo. I wanna thank everyone for the support I received from my Five fanfic, it means the world to me that people read and enjoy my writing. I’m definitely thinking about ideas for a part 2, and I also have some requests I need to complete, but for now this lil thing popped into my head and I had to make it. My sweet Diego deserved so much more. There’s fluff, there’s angst, there’s a lil bit of smut (I’m trying to get better at writing that lol) so I hope you all enjoy. Feedback is always appreciated

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

Those were the words that came out of Five’s mouth before Y/N stormed out of the house, leaving behind the shocked faces of the Hargreeves siblings.

Five had cheated on her. With Lila. Diego’s wife, the mother of his children. She felt like throwing up. They’d created a life together, seeming to forget all about the life they had here, in the real world. Five tried explaining how a few hours to her had been years for him and Lila, but Y/N wasn’t having it. She couldn’t imagine giving up on a relationship she’d spent so long working on, like it meant nothing at all. At least they weren’t married with kids. She doesn’t want to think about how much this is killing Diego.

Having left the house, ignoring the calls from the family, Y/N continued walking for what seemed like hours. She wasn’t familiar with this side of town, and the dark streets all blended together. Had she already gone this way? Was there a bus stop she could seek shelter under for the time being? The night was getting colder and she was finding it hard to catch her breath, the tears still flowing. She knew she couldn’t continue on for much longer.

After walking a few more blocks, Y/N finally spots a bar/diner, the lights still on inside. Better than nothing, she thinks, as she slowly makes her way towards it, in desperate need of a drink.

The diner is quiet, only a few patrons scattered around, either drunk or on the verge of passing out. The bar tender nods in acknowledgment when Y/N sits on one of the bar stools, asking what she wants.

“I’ll just have a beer.”

The bar tender rolls his eyes. “What kinda beer?”

Y/N shrugs. “The cheapest one you’ve got.”

He wonders off to sort out her order, as she rests her head in the palms of her hands, closing her eyes and trying not to sob like a baby. The pain in her chest still lingers, as she can’t escape the images of Five and Lila, and the life they had made together. The life that should’ve been hers. With everything going on, she’d almost forgotten about the world ending, again. But that was surprisingly the least of her worries at the moment. She just wanted to scream, and punch and kick anything that got in her way. She needed a cigarette. And she doesn’t even smoke.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

A voice sounds off to the side of Y/N, as she slowly opens her eyes. A beer bottle stands in front of her, and she turns to her left, spotting Diego in the seat next to hers. He looks worse for wear. Red eyes, prominent frown lines, and a pouty lip.

“You look like a kicked puppy,” Y/N mumbles, not knowing what else to say.

“Yeah, I wonder why,” Diego replies in a gruff voice, grabbing for her beer and taking a swig.

The pair go quiet, listening to the soft tune playing through the overhead speakers, dwelling in their own thoughts. The two of them had never exactly been close. Since Y/N joined the family she’d always gravitated more towards Klaus and Alison. Frankly, she didn’t understand why Diego was here with her. Maybe because they were both dealing with the same situation, with both their partners being the main focal point. Or maybe he was just in desperate need for a drink too, as shown when he downs the rest of the bottle. Y/N alerts the bar tender, putting up two fingers to ask for a second round. Hopefully she can actually have some this time.

“Was I a bad husband?” Diego finally speaks up, breaking the somewhat awkward silence.

Y/N glances his way, unsure of how to respond.

She clears her throat. “I dunno if I’m the right person to answer that,” she scratches at the label on the beer bottle. “But from what I saw, you were pretty good at it.”

He doesn’t say anything, so she continues. “And you’re also a good dad. I can’t imagine how hard it was, going from one apocalypse to another, to just living a normal life. Pretending none of it ever happened. You didn’t let that get in the way of taking care of your kids. They know you’re a good dad.”

She notices the tears forming in Diego’s eyes and looks away, knowing he wouldn’t want others to see him cry. She sips her drink, the burning sensation hitting the back of her throat.

“For what it’s worth,” Diego starts, “you’re not a bad girlfriend.”

“I never thought I was,” Y/N bites back, her tone harsher than she wanted it to be. “But what are you supposed to think when the love of your life admits to having an affair?” She laughs bitterly. “With his fucking sister in law!”

“Hey, you’re preaching to the choir here,” Diego says, rubbing incessantly at his eyes. “Just tryna make you feel better.”

“Well you didn’t.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

They bask in silence again, both too stubborn to apologise for snapping at each other. They know neither of them are in the wrong. But the wounds are still fresh, and it doesn’t seem like they’ll heal anytime soon.

Almost an hour passes, along with 9 or 10 bottles of beer between them, when the bartender finally tells them it’s closing time. They both get out of their seats, leaving the bar and standing awkwardly outside in the cold, Y/N shivering having left the house without a coat.

“You cold?” Diego dumbly asks.

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Well done, Sherlock.”

Diego looks as if he’s about to say something in retort, but chooses not to. Instead, he silently slips off his jacket, handing it over to her, insisting she takes it before she can refuse. She does so, mumbling a quiet ‘thank you’. They continue standing outside the bar, watching the occasional car drive past, lighting them up every so often.

“I can’t go back there,” Y/N says. “Not yet anyways.”

It was a stupid thing to think that this could all be avoided. She’d eventually have to face Five properly, let him explain fully what happened during that time he was away. But she couldn’t. She doesn’t want an explanation, or an excuse. She just wants it erased from her memory. To forget about it all. To forget about Five.

Diego puts his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, I’m not in the mood to figure out that shit show tonight.”

He pauses for a beat, then briefly glances at Y/N. “There’s a motel not too far from here. We can grab a couple of rooms, take the time to get some rest, and figure all this out tomorrow.”

She doesn’t say anything, simply nodding in agreement, and following Diego to their accommodation for the night.

***

The pair arrive at the dingy looking motel, booking two rooms next to each other, and muttering quick goodnights. Y/N can feel the exhaustion taking over, as she sits down on the bed, and yet the thought of falling asleep makes her anxious. She can’t remember the last time she went to bed alone. It was always Five right by her side, comforting her if she had any nightmares. Which had become more and more frequent the past few weeks.

She tries distracting herself by turning on the tv, flicking through empty channels and purposely avoiding the news. She takes a shower, scrubbing off the physical and metaphorical grime. It helps her feel slightly better, but still she’s wide awake. She walks laps around the room, which isn’t much considering the bed takes up most of the space. And yet she still can’t sleep.

Her mind wanders to the man in the room next to hers. Is Diego having the same issues as she is? Or has he completely worn himself out to the point of passing out for the next several hours. Is it too forward if she goes over there and asks to stay with him for the night? He could end up giving her a weird look and slamming the door in her face. Or he could see a woman, sad and distressed, and know she’s just in need of someone to comfort her. The risk is worth the reward.

Y/N leaves her room, stumbling slightly over her own feet, the alcohol starting to take effect. She steadies herself, standing in front of Diego’s door and knocking. It takes a moment, but he finally opens, shirtless and hair a mess.

“What’s up?” He says, his voice gruff.

Standing in front of him now, Y/N can’t help but feel stupid. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with her problems right now, not when he’s still trying to figure out his own. The only thing on Diego’s mind is most likely Lila, and getting some much needed rest. This was a bad idea.

“Uh,” she shakes her head. “It’s nothing, no. I shouldn’t have disturbed you, I’m sorry.”

She begins to walk away, trying not to fall over, until Diego’s voice calls her name. She turns, seeing him standing half way out of his room, a sad expression on his face.

“Neither of us really wanna be alone right now,” he says, motioning slightly for her to follow him through the door.

She waits a second, unsure if this was the best idea. Now feeling as if they were both about to cross a barrier that neither of them could walk back through.

Taking the plunge, Y/N silently follows Diego into his room, closing the door behind her. She suddenly felt nervous, unsure as to why. Diego is already back in bed, getting comfortable under the covers, ready for a much needed sleep. Y/N looks at the bed, then towards the small couch, not knowing which one she’s welcome on.

“Diego…”

“It’s fine,” he rolls over, not looking at her. “You can build a pillow wall if it’ll make you feel better.”

Y/N nods, not wanting to admit how glad she was that she could sleep next to Diego tonight. She’d feel this way about anyone at the moment, right? It’s got nothing specifically to do with him. Her mind is racing, as she climbs into bed, hoping to fall into a deep slumber as quick as. She doesn’t build a pillow wall.

***

Barely an hour passes before Y/N is woken up suddenly by a sound. She sits up in bed, eyes bleary and watery, looking around the room with squinting eyes. The bathroom light is on, shining through the cracks, and Diego is no longer beside her.

She hears the sound again, a soft whimper, barely audible. It’s coming from the bathroom, and she can already guess who it is. She slowly scoots out of bed, tiptoeing on unsteady feet towards the door, knocking slightly. No answer. And the noise has stopped.

She knocks again, trying the door handle at the same time. It budges, as she gradually pulls it open. The sight was heartbreaking. Diego sits in a curled up ball in the corner, covering his face, and desperately trying to stop his heavy breathing. He doesn’t acknowledge Y/N’s presence, as she moves over to him, crouching down. She gently grabs his hands, pulling them away to see his red, tear stained face.

“I’ve lost everything,” he whispers, breaking Y/N’s heart more than it already was. “I feel like my life’s over.”

Y/N strokes his hands, trying her best to soothe him in anyway that might work.

“I have no purpose without her,” he continues. “I try saving the world, but I couldn’t save the one thing that matters the most to me. I’m useless.”

“That is not true,” Y/N finally replies, hating these thoughts running through Diego’s mind. “Her actions are not a reflection on you.”

Diego begins to protest, but Y/N quickly shuts him down. “I know how much you care. Sometimes I think you care a little too much. But that just proves how good of a husband and father you were. You did nothing wrong. It’s all on her. And Five.”

She chokes out the last part, almost forgetting about her own problems. They’re both going through this, together.

Y/N doesn’t even realise she’s now crying too, holding her hand up to her mouth to muffle the sound of her sobs. Diego reaches out, pulling her into a bone crushing hug, the pair needing comfort from each other more than anything.

She moves her head back slightly, kissing Diego on the forehead, then the cheek, then hesitating at his lips. Her mind feels fuzzy, as the alcohol in her system still lingers, jumping between the pros and cons of what she’s about to do. Diego makes the decision for her.

The kiss is soft at first, his moustache tickling her upper lip, the sensation of it weird but not unpleasant. She wraps her arms around his neck as he puts his hands on both sides of her face, deepening it into a full blown make out session. Y/N opens her mouth, allowing Diego to slip his tongue in, eliciting a quiet moan from her.

Their current position is uncomfortable, as Diego sits pressed up against the sink with Y/N crouched down in front of him. He pushes her back slightly, so they can both stand, never stopping the kiss. The room feels hot, as they walk out of the bathroom and aim for the bed, Diego sitting down on the edge with Y/N straddling his lap. She quickly removes her top and bra, drawing the man’s attention to her breasts. He moves away from her lips, traveling down until he’s eye level with her chest. He takes one in his mouth, sucking harshly, while his hand massages the other.

“Oh fuck,” Y/N sighs, throwing her head back.

She grabs his hair, pulling a fistful of it, forcing Diego to suck harder. She moves her hips back and forth on his crotch, desperately wanting to get out of the rest of her clothes.

As if reading her mind, Diego pulls back, moving them both higher up the bed, quickly removing his pants as Y/N does the same. Now completely nude, the pair become a sweaty mess of body and limbs, wrapping themselves around each other, and making sounds the other occupants in the motel can definitely hear.

Diego’s thrusts are meticulous, as he hooks one of his arms under her leg, pushing in and out, knowing all the right places to make Y/N scream out in ecstasy. He kisses her lips, her neck, her chest and her breasts, not wanting to leave out any part of her. He makes her feel wanted, admired, needed. Like he can’t breathe without her. It feels good. They carry on into the night, and early morning, for a moment all their problems don’t exist anymore.

***

Y/N wakes up first. Her head is pounding, her mouth is dry, and there’s a dull ache between her legs. She grumbles, the memories of last night rushing back to her in an instant. Some good, some bad, and some unforgettable. A small part of her is consumed with guilt, knowing what she did could be seen as hypocritical.

But as Diego’s strong arm wrapped around her waist pulls her closer to his chest, snuggling into her neck, that feeling washes away. In some selfish way, they both needed this. An eye for an eye, as most would say. It’s not going to end well, and she knows they’ll have to eventually deal with the consequences the same way Five and Lila did, but for now, the rest of the world can wait a while. Y/N turns around, moving impossibly closer to Diego, the man who made her feel wanted at a time where she didn’t think she was.

[nfr-girly]

fiancée life with hasanabi? <3

I love this sm!! I imagine this could carry on after this fic of mine <33

————————————————————————

-the moment you and Hasan get engaged, he will not keep his hands off you for ONE second

-he’s just so protective of you now, he always was but EXTRA

-the moment he decided he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, he devoted himself to keeping you safe

-of course with that came his fans. Everyone knew about you and Hasan, and there had been some hate around but you didn’t take it to heart, Hasan loved you even more for that <3

-he left it up to you to decide if you wanted people to know, i imagine you guys would do a hard launch where Hasan posts one wedding photo on his story and doesn’t say anything about it for like a MONTH, while everyone’s going crazy. It doesn’t get brought up until a random Fear& episode where they talk about his ring

-poor Hasan had so many doubts if you wanted to marry him though, he didn’t want you to feel pressured by his fan base. But you didn’t care about any of that. You only wanted him <33

-Hasan definitely would leave all the decorating choices to you, he’s known since you two were only friends what type of wedding you’d want, and he plans to give you EXACTLY that

-Hasan would also be very humble about his engagement, obviously he would talk about it with his friends but he doesn’t feel like he can talk about it as much as he wants cause of his social media presence. At night when it’s just the two of you is when he rambles on about how he feels. How excited he is to start this life with you, how he’s so happy you’re in his life and that he doesn’t deserve you. As he’s rambling you’re just lying there trying not to cry cause you’re just like “what did I do to deserve this man??”

-If you guys do decide to keep it a secret, Hasan will come up with ways to see you while he’s streaming without chat being suspicious. Like toilet breaks, or pretending the bell rung, one time he’d be like “I’m gonna see kaya make sure she’s okay” when she’s literally behind the chair.

-he just pretends he didn’t see her, he did

-I can definitely imagine a scenario where Hasan accidentally forgot to take his engagement ring off for a Fear& episode, but no one questions it cause they think Hasans told everyone.

-then will comes out with “do you guys have a date for the wedding?”

-Hasan FREAKS out, mans is already preparing to kill will barehanded not knowing his rings on display

-Hasans Like “what??” And acts all confused, then wills just like “the wedding date, for you and y/n??”

-Hasans looking at will shaking his head, trying to get him to understand that NO ONE KNOWS

-finally will realises and is like SHIT

-he does immediately jump to defend himself though by pointing at his own ring finger and then looking at Hasans hand

-Hasan looks at his finger and sees he hasn’t taken his ring off. I’m not even joking the pod is silent for two straight minutes after that

-you end up finding out about it and Hasans so worried you’re mad but really you find it funny as fuck, you laugh about it with Austin and qt for almost 10 minutes

-Hasan is PANICKING though cause he knows how fans can be and they don’t know how they’ll act towards you

-you reassure him it’s okay and it’s a relief you two don’t have to hide it anymore <33

-literally Hasan is just so in love with you, like in all the ways someone can love someone he loves you