#none of which are set in stone

[shadowsandshapes]

I don't know who needs to hear this But if you wanna write something that doesn't follow the popular perception of a character do it

One iteration of a character doesn't cease to exist when another is written about

You wanna ✨babygirlify✨ this villain in one fic and then have them burn down society in another? Go for it! Those ideas can coexist~

[stonesense]

*although she's technically considered a surface dwarf, she spent most of her life underground in the Grand Necropolis, so I like to think she still retains some Stone sense.

Thank you @riessene for the template!

[pocketramblr]

Who knows what Gerudo culture or fashion would have evolved into by 'Rule's time but it's nice to think about him getting to experience a bit more of it in another universe... Before BLYGanon sours it for him... Also been thinking about that Great Fairy of the desert...

[zhuhongs]

just found out the lead singer of taiwans biggest death metal band is also an active parliament member since like 2015.... and is still active as a death metal singer. he's a pretty standard taiwanese center left anti communist from what i could gather. which like as a leftist i dont really agree with but i also dont know enough abt taiwanese politics to like make a full judgement. though he seems to be a standard liberal nothing remarkable, radical, or new, not overtly horrible but just bland. but that was something i definitely did Not expect. apparently he's very pro indigenous rights and self determination for indigenous people but being in a centre left mega party like the DPP does not seem like the best way to achieve that. But yea, just thought I'd share

[emometalhead]

Aftershock 2023 Lineup

[waugh-bao]

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[raeathnos]

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[mothercain]

The Consequence of Audience

As I went there through the long, long wood, I felt no-thing and I was no-thing and I was at ease. The grey ash trees and their mottled plumage were as one with each other, curving and branching to form a ceiling overhead. There was wide separation between trunks, creating vast corridors stretching off in all directions before me, behind me, all around me. O, what praise I could sing of that never-ending dusk fall I spent between those oaks! None came with me, none came upon me, for I was alone and I was at ease. Yet came the day the trees broke, the corridor ended, and I was thrust upon the rocky expanse that was the Great Dark. There I saw first face and heard footstep, few and far between, but I was no longer alone. It was a shameful deed to carry these two naked hands as they clenched hotly, now in full display for all to see. I had never noticed them in the wood, for I was at ease. Here, the taut skin seemed to stretch and sweat, almost glowing, as if exasperated of their own grip. For as I wandered the Great Dark, there was not but grey, barren rock as far as any eye could see. It did make a passerby out of an observer. I saw them trudge by, fingers dipped into their open mouths desperate for wetness, the lolled tongue. There, in the wood, I was the watcher, but here I am nothing but displacing air. Yet, within the smothering toil of my apathy, I had heard the bell. Murmur of God between their slick, bent fingers ruffled the hair on the back of my neck. My muscles groaned against the weight of the skin around them, aching to be set loose. All at once, I saw, from where I stood, there rose a great dome atop a hill on the horizon before me. Yes, I saw it there with mine own two eyes! The white exterior peered at me with flat orifices obscured through the mist, barely distinguishable from the dark sky behind it, as though all the world beyond the dome was cut from the same slab, only slightly effaced. The convex roof sat atop a disk, held up by great ionic pillars circling the temple. Steps radiated out and down the slope, like ripples in a pond escaping a dropped stone. It was greater than life, greater than the wood, greater than all else which filled this dark, and my gullible delight was that it was all mine. Yes, all mine! One could follow me to it but they could not follow me in. My hands stretched outwards with an audible cracking in the bone as I crept forward there. I could not tell you the rest. I would not even attempt, for it would change no-thing. To know if I did go completely naked into the theater of the divine. If I did need for no-thing, want for no-thing. If I was then full to the brim, cylindrical pull slid through my gaping jaw into my endless throat. If I saw it there, shimmering through the veil like pearlescent oil over crystal water. If it heard me singing with every atom that formed me, through every orifice and wound I had, polytonal in my begging for it to complete me with the fifth. If it looked into me, saw how I needed to know what God knows and to be with him. If it spoke back to me in flat dissonance, “how couldn’t ye?” It would be of no good to speak these things to you. In what way I was still returned to the ground, even if beneath it, intact with my puerile need to repeat my-self and my mistakes. Who would not climb the wall for a peer over the edge? The cautionary tale is the fool’s errand, and I am no fool. I am as my hands are; twisting in on themselves and bursting at the seams. I can-not contain the ache for sensation, just as I could not contain the grief as I fell, nor the agony as I crawled my way back to this rocky countryside, and lo! I am on my way there again now. I am, I am, I am! But I will not tell you the visceral details, as you already know them. You all do.

It’s happening to every-body.

[sweetmodel]

How I became a master shifter (+ why methods aren't working for you)

Hello! I’ve been seeing a lot of disinformation lately, and I’ve noticed that some people might need help, so I wanted to chime in. I can shift whenever I want, and I see a LOT of limiting beliefs—but I understand because I was once on the other side.

Disclaimer: This is all based on my personal experience with how I became a master shifter. You’ll want to read everything—it’s important.

I first shifted around March 2022. I would always use methods. I would affirm, tell myself I was detached from this reality, and so on. During my very first shift, I literally affirmed all night long (if this sounds familiar, it’s because I used to have another blog here, lol). You know, really complicated stuff. Then... things changed. I couldn’t shift anymore. I kept using the same methods, but they didn’t work!

That’s when I started questioning everything about shifting and consciousness. Why was it that I could be in another reality where things like magic exist, but then suddenly I couldn’t shift anymore? Why were the methods, like lucid dreaming or the void, seemingly more powerful than the act of switching realities itself? Why, when I shifted from my Desired Reality to my Current Reality, all I needed to do think of my CR to shift back—but it didn’t work the other way around?

None of it made sense! And I’m sure many others have asked themselves these same questions.

I came up with two theories:

This reality has something unique compared to the infinite other realities. To shift from here, you need something extra, like a method.

There’s something else at play, something unrelated to the realities themselves.

I dismissed the first option. There’s nothing inherently special about this reality. So why do we use methods here but not in our DRs?

Then, I thought back to how I used to shift... detaching from my body, affirming until I shifted. It all aligned with my subconscious beliefs. The method didn’t work because that’s how shifting works, but because it made sense to my subconscious. Of course I would shift if I did these things—because that’s what I believed shifting required.

Well... kind of. As I said, it made sense because it aligned with my beliefs. So when the method failed, I wasn’t letting myself shift.

Did you catch that? I didn’t let myself shift. Of course, it wasn’t the method. At what point do you actually shift? Is it when you affirm? Do you really think the universe is just waiting for you to say the right thing enough times before it switches you to your DR?

No. It’s you.

So, you have two choices:

Find a method that truly aligns with your beliefs, or

Change your subconscious beliefs.

Changing your beliefs might seem hard, but I’m going to explain why it’s not as difficult as it feels.

All your life, you’ve had certain beliefs, but those beliefs came from somewhere. You weren’t born thinking you need methods to shift—it’s something that developed over time. Which means it’s not set in stone. It can be changed.

I realized that every reality holds the same weight. There’s NOTHING you can do in this one—no intrusive thoughts or negative emotions—that can stop you. Why? Because those thoughts and emotions are products of this reality. Shifting is simply changing what you’re aware of. That’s literally it. Anything outside of that can’t stop you.

Yes, we’ve all seen those posts saying things like, "Oh, you’re not focused enough" or "You spend too much time on X, Y, Z" or even "You don’t go outside enough" (I legit read this on here—y'all are wildin’). Are you in your DR thinking "Oh, I thought about failing to shift, it means I won't :("? Of course you aren't! But nothing can stop you from shifting. Nothing can stop you from being aware that you are a master shifter.

So, how do you become aware of that?

I started affirming throughout the day. I would tell myself these things:

I’m pure consciousness. I create my reality, and everything around me is just what I choose to perceive.

I’m a master shifter. I don’t need methods. All I need to do is choose to shift, think of my DR, and it happens.

Nothing in the 3D can stop me from shifting, because I’m in the 4D and pure consciousness.

I told myself these things constantly, and I truly understood what I was affirming. What being pure consciousness and being a master shifter actually meant. I stopped using methods. I stopped acting like this reality was special compared to the ones I wanted to be in. And then... it happened.

I shifted. During the day. I simply thought of my DR, told myself, I want to shift, and there I was—in my DR. It happened because, as I said, my subconscious beliefs changed and then manifested in my reality. The same way they did when I believed I needed methods.

Naturally, I stopped using methods. I stopped trying to shift. I no longer thought, Okay, tonight I’m going to shift, and I'm going to use X method. Because that’s not how you think or act when you’re a master shifter. I let go—why would I bother using a method before sleeping when I could just stand up, think about my DR, and be there? Why would I bother doing a method before falling asleep when I knew I'm a master shifter?

I allowed myself to shift. It was me! When people ask, What method did you use? What did you do to shift?—do you really, truly believe it’s the method that makes you shift? Of course you do, because you live in a reality that seems logical, and you apply that logic to shifting. But shifting isn’t logical! It just happens! I have no idea why—it’s literally just magic to me—but that’s how it works.

So, you need to understand: You make it happen. That’s a good thing, right? It means you don’t need methods, and you don’t need to keep searching for “the key.”

Anyway, I hope this helps someone. (Also yes, before you tell me, I know this is basically Law Of Assumption. But I wanted to explain it in more of shifting terms)

(Also if someone wants to post this to another social you have my permission- especially reddit since I was active in that community but I deleted my acc lol)

Edit: Hey guys there are some additional notes in the comments that might be useful!

[ophelialoveshandsomemen]

Say what you will about Van Helsing 2004; hate it, love it, be indifferent, But the All-Hallow's masquerade ball went sooooo hard and it had zero right to do so! It's a fun, campy, monster mash movie with wonderfully dated ( and expensive) cgi and non-stop action meant to be a popcorn flick one takes out to watch around spooky season. And it has this* chef's kiss* GORGEOUS 6 minute sequence plopped arbitrarily in the second act, which unexpectedly surpasses nearly every other ball in the last 30+ years of film( notable exception being the Cinderella 2015 ball) for literally no reason other than to be dramatic af.

Like feast your eyes on this Gothic masterpiece!!! Who doesn't want to immediately live in this picture?!??

They used those candles with oil in them so that they would have real candles, real string orchestra( I believe), probably around 100 real life extras( something which is tragically absent in modern film), said extras are all in beautiful fully decked-out costumes( which are in luxuriously dark colours, but nearly no fully black, another thing you cannot say for much modern cinema), REAL CIRQUE DU SOLEIL PERFORMERS for all the acrobatics!!!! Hell, instead of filming in a sound stage, where they could control the reverb and the acoustics and the size of the set and the bloody lighting ( they apparently had a heck of a time emulating the firelight for this sequence) and the temperature( it's very cold in stone churches!) better, they filmed in a Baroque church in Prague! As I said, peak dramatic splendour, jfc...

Think about that a second...They filmed a vampire masquerade in a Baroque Catholic Church( St. Nicholas' in Lesser Town, if you were curious) with amazing over-the-top acoustics and marble statues and real, tiled floors and marble pillars and a choir loft which they very much utilized, covered the pipe organ and the altar with a grand brocade curtain so it wouldn't be so obviously a, you know, a church! And there's a gold gilt elevated and canopied pulpit into which they put two vampire kiddies for, again, the sake of being dramatic.

And the costumes! They remind me of the 25th anniversary Phantom of the Opera Masquerade costumes. Same quality, like they're old, well-cared-for costumes pulled out of a warehouse, instead of fast industry churn-outs. With lots of trim and colour and masks and lace and feathers and..just...ugh.. they are all perfect! Just look at all the head pieces on the ladies and the hats on all the gentleman ( save Dracula of course) and the powdered wigs on the musicians. ANNNNDD! The dresses are historically correct!!!!!! It's the 80's bustle era! Nobody does the 80's bustle era in film anymore and it's a bummer. Oh and one other thing! Anna's ( and other women's) hair, at least here in the ball, is also historically accurate because it's all pinned up! None of those fucken modern beachwaves at a ball! Everybody's got updo's!

Gah, I swear, Dracula in his gold cloak really does things to me in this scene!

By the way, the acrobatics are bonkers in here for just background stuff!! Especially the random guys on unicycles and the dude playing the violin whilst standing on a ball...Like....WHAT?

Anyways, all this to say, that this masquerade ball feels sooo real and tangible and because of that it blows every other film out of the water, and no, I will not change my mind!!!!!

Here's a few more gifs, bcuz, why the hell not, this scene is sexy as fuu*ck?

Alright I need to go to bed now.

[lowkeyren]

—trick or... tricked?

in which : you save a strikingly handsome vampire, not knowing he would get attached to you in more ways than one.

pairing : aventurine x gn!reader

wc 1.5k, vampire aventurine in celebration of spooky month, lots of flirting (re: dialogue), reader implied to be shorter than him, ofc he bets lol, art by @/shizuart, reblogs r much appreciated!! enjoy <3

for @stellaronhvnters ongoing event; the prompt i ended up w was vampire ^^ @staarri sighs i miss writing for aventurine.

you have no idea why aventurine has taken such a keen interest in you. 

all you did was help a poor vampire in need. you saw him slumped against the cold stone of an alley one night, weakened and vulnerable; his pristine clothes torn and his blond hair dishevelled. 

you stepped closer despite the little voice in your head telling you to mind your own business. vampires weren’t known for displaying vulnerability so openly, yet there he was —barely holding on, his gaze hazy as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

out of some misplaced sense of duty—or perhaps it was pity—you knelt beside him, offering your help. at first, he brushed you off, pride keeping him from accepting anything. but as the blood from his gashes continued to seep through his clothes and his breathing grew more laboured, he had no choice but to relent.

tearing a piece of your sleeve off to use as a bandage, you quickly tended to his wounds. he’s surprisingly compliant, letting you clean the gashes without complaint, except for the occasional groan whenever you applied the antiseptic.

rummaging through your bag, you pulled out a bottle of water and pressed it against his lips, watching as he gulped down the liquid eagerly. his eyes flickered with relief as the cool water met his dry mouth; and you noticed the way his shoulders relaxed, the tension visibly easing from his body. 

after making sure he was somewhat stable, you stood up to leave. though you didn’t expect him to thank you, and you certainly didn’t expect him to latch on to you like this.

you take it back.

maybe you shouldn’t have helped him. who would have known he would become so… attached? 

you have tried everything. changing your routine, leaving town, even staying inside for days at a time, but none of it worked. he lurks in the shadows, leaning against a wall as you pass by, catching your gaze across a crowded room with an infuriating smirk.

you hoped, prayed even, that your indifference would drive him off. that maybe, if you didn’t acknowledge him, he’d lose interest, move on to someone else. 

though you couldn’t be more far from wrong. 

("aventurine, why are you always here?"

his eyes flicks down lazily to meet yours, a hint of surprise in them. slowly, he set his cup down and smiles.

"why sweetheart," his voice is smooth, amused. "i’m just enjoying the view.")

he’s patient, maddeningly so, with a persistence that makes it hard to ignore him.

you catch glimpses of him out of the corner of your eye —a flash of pale skin, a figure too still in the crowd, but every time you turn to face him, he’s gone, only to reappear moments later, closer than before.

how frustrating. 

“i know you’re there, aventurine.”

a moment passes, then he steps into view, a relaxed smile on his lips that stirs something within you. “you’re quite observant tonight,” he replies, a teasing lilt in his voice. “i was beginning to think you preferred to ignore me.”

you cross your arms, “i don’t prefer anything about this situation, you keep showing up uninvited,” you retort, yet your heart betrays you, fluttering at the way he leans closer, the scent of him intoxicating.

“uninvited, sure. but unwanted? i'm not so sure about that." he chuckles softly, his voice like velvet, eyes gleaming as they meet yours. “i think,” a sly grin tugs at his lips, his fangs just barely visible beneath them, “you're more intrigued by me than you’d like to admit.”

the roll of your eyes does little to hide the faint blush creeping up your neck. “yeah yeah whatever,” you mutter, glancing away to regain your composure, but even the sun rising on the horizon seems to pale in comparison to the heat radiating from your cheeks.

“i’ll catch you later tonight, sweetheart.” he calls over his shoulder as he disappears into the early morning light, “try not to miss me too much while the sun’s still out.”

you quickened your pace, weaving through the streets, desperate to put distance between you and that haunting smirk. but the faster you move, the closer aventurine seems to get, his footsteps silent but ever-present. 

“not now, aventurine,” the words came out sharper than you intended. “i’m running late for my date,” your breath hitching from the strain of trying to outrun him. 

“a date, huh? is that what you call it?” he pushes himself off a nearby post, “and here i'm starting to think you enjoy my company."

"enjoy? not even close." you shoot a glare at him over your shoulder, before quickening your pace again. “why do you even care anyway?”

“because i do,” he replies simply, you can feel his gaze boring into your back. “you helped me when no one else would. it’s only fair i return the favour.”

you stop short, your heart racing in a way that has nothing to do with running late.

“—and you don’t seem to hate the idea of getting involved with someone like me.”

“someone like you?” you echo, incredulity spilling into your tone. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

aventurine shrugs, his presence still lingering close behind you. “vampires don’t exactly have the best track record, you know. most people would steer clear of me.”

you raise an eyebrow, “and yet, here you are, shadowing me like a lost puppy. so, what do you really want?”

he straightens up, the glimmer in his eyes brightening. “i was wondering how long it’d take for you to ask." he saunters closer, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face, his cold fingers lingering near your cheek. 

“let’s make a deal.”

“a deal?”

"a bet, if you will," he corrects himself, his voice dripping with amusement. "it's simple. if you win, i’ll leave you alone, for good.” his lips quirks upward, before continuing. “but if i win, i get to taste you.”

your heart lurches at the word, dread pooling in your stomach. blood. he wants your blood, right? what else would a vampire want?

you swallow hard, thank aeons he can't see your face right now. “fine. what’s the bet?”

he leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. “let’s see how well you’ve been paying attention." you barely have time to react before his hands gently close over your eyes from behind, blocking your vision entirely.

“tell me,” his voice a low whisper, “what colour are my eyes right now?”

your pulse quickens. well, they’re usually—

“magenta and cyan,” you mutter instinctively, the words slipping out before you can even think. aventurine chuckles softly, his lips brushing dangerously close to your ear as he speaks. “wrong answer, sweetheart."

his fingers remain gently over your eyes, his cold touch pushing your already racing heart into overdrive. "then, what’s the right answer?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

“they’re red tonight,” he replies. you perk up “how am i supposed to know that! you can’t just change the colours on a whim…”

“ah ah, you lost the bet.”

taste… your throat tightens at the thought, your mind went straight to the worst-case scenario —a sharp bite that would sap your strength and leave you utterly drained. 

his body presses against your back as he tilts your chin up gently, and you meet his gaze. yes, they’re definitely red tonight —a striking shade of crimson, blood red. he looks down at you, a devilish grin spreading across his face, a smile so dangerously alluring, so handsomely wicked.

“ugh…” you shifted uneasily, though you tried to play it off as indifference. "just make it quick and painless." you turn your head slightly to the side, exposing your neck.

aventurine blinks, taken aback for a moment. "oh?" he drawls, his voice dripping with mischief. "no, no, sweetheart. i don’t want your blood."

confusion flickers across your face as you stare up at him.

"i want a kiss.”

aventurine leans against the doorway, an amused smile dancing on his lips. “looks like someone forgot about their date,” he teases, his eyes glinting with that familiar blend of magenta and cyan —such beautiful eyes with vivid hues of twilight, too mesmerising for a beguiling being. 

“never had one in the first place,” you murmur, your words holding a hint of resignation.

he tilts his head as the corners of his lips curl up. “really? then… can i be your date instead?”

you blink, caught off guard; your heart stumbles in your chest, and for a moment, you’re lost for words. you look up, meeting his gaze. there’s something different, something softer about the way he looks at you.

“a little late to be asking, don’t you think?” you manage, your voice quieter than before, the space between you feels a lot smaller than it did just moments ago.

“better late than never,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “besides,” he continues, his thumb brushing gently against your hand, “who’s to say a night with a vampire wouldn’t be better?”

you laugh lightly, “you’re too confident for your own good.” even as the words leave your mouth, there’s no real bite behind them.

he leans in, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath soft against your ear. “and yet you haven’t said no.”

MASTERLIST.

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART FOUR

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, violence, kidnapping, angst, blood, 141 are still mean pirates ): kind of, very brief mentions of death masterlist

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

There were no ifs, ands, or buts about sleeping arrangements. Price, the Captain that he was, would have it his way, and his way was keeping you secured in the stuffiness of his own quarters.

It was uncomfortable, the way you shared the bed with him. He was a large man, much larger than you, and his bed only had so much space to fit the two of you. In the midst of the nights, you’d feel his leg brush against yours, or feel the soft rumble of his quiet snores from where he laid beside you.

It was far from ideal. As much as you hated it, it was an upgrade from your cell down in the brig. Price’s bed was softer, more plush, and it sank you in every time you slept on it. The situation was no better, but it wasn’t any worse, either.

The downside, though, was that you were just as much a prisoner as you were in the cell. Price made it known that you weren’t to leave his quarters under any circumstance.

They brought you meals in rotations. Sometimes Soap would show, cracking a horrible joke that left you rolling your eyes. Or sometimes it’d be Gaz, who hardly spared you a word of conversation, though you could see the faint glimpse of pity in his eye.

Then there was Ghost. A pure enigma, darkened by shadowy demons that were hidden beneath his mask. He never uttered a word to you, nor looked at you. He did his bidding by slapping down a bowl of poorly made stew and immediately making his exit before you could get a single word in.

Price wouldn’t bring you your meals, though you convinced yourself it was because he was avoiding you. You thought his original plan of having you sleep in his quarters would be for something diabolical and sinful, yet he made no effort to touch you nor get to know you. It was nice, knowing he wasn’t there to do things against your will, but it was also confusing, wondering what his real plan was for you.

It was as if sleeping with a wall, which you weren’t sure whether to be grateful or not. These men were far from people you wanted to be a part of, but the desire for a friend was beginning to outweigh your spite.

You were an outcast aboard this ship. Secluded from the world, and isolated from the only people you were surrounded by. It was a dreadfully lonely life to be living. Your only friend was the sea, and even that was something you were torn away from, locked away in the quarters with only a small window to offer a view of it.

The door of Price’s quarters barged open, disrupting you from your woe. None of them ever bothered to knock. They were savages, bred with no proper manners in the presence of a woman. But really, you weren’t a woman to them. You were labor. An inconvenience.

“Get up,” Ghost grumbled from his stand in the doorway, hand knuckling the rusty knob. “Goin’ shoppin’.”

“We’re on land?” you asked, standing from Price’s cot. Ghost grunted in response. “And I’m to… join you?”

“You need supplies, don’t you?” he gruffed, eyes narrowing in on you. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

The door abruptly slammed shut, leaving you alone in the quarters once again.

Land? They were allowing you to join them on their journey to land, to aid you in getting supplies necessary to work as a proper medic? It seemed surreal, yet bittersweet.

Gaining new supplies set your position on their crew in stone. They intended to keep you as theirs, and only trusted you enough to let you get off of the ship under their watch.

Yet, you’d be able to feel the grass between your toes once again. To feel the summer sun soaking in your skin, to hear the chatter of villagers fill your ears. You’d feel the liveliness of people apart from these heartless, savage pirates.

You’d be able to escape.

If you remained clever, you could leave the hands of Captain Price and create a new life far from their ship. This was your one and only opportunity to venture towards the life you always wanted for yourself.

You appeared as neutral as ever when you left the quarters to join the four men where they stood, clearly speaking amongst each other. You couldn’t show the rushing adrenaline coursing through you, not if you wanted to get away alive.

“Ach, there ye are, dove,” Soap huffed in annoyance, grabbing hold of your bicep to surge you towards him. You collided with his side, knocking the air out of your lungs. “Yer with me.”

“Stick with Soap,” Price ordered. His glare sent chills down your spine. “You are to get what you need under his watch. Try anythin’ funny and he won’t be so kind with you.”

“She’s fine, Cap, no need to worry. She won’t do anythin’ silly. Ain’t that right, dove?” Soap beamed, a touch of crazy leering down at you.

The plan in your head was beginning to feel too soon and too dangerous. You could only swallow nervously, giving a firm nod in return before they helped guide you off of the ship.

The town was lively around you. It was nothing like your home. Where you had grown with the quiet chirps of nature and gentle conversation, you were now greeted with an angry bustle of rushing townsfolk, brushing past you as if you were a ghost.

You felt out of touch with your surroundings. Others were dressed in fresh fabrics, altered to their frame. The women were pretty, hair unmatted and braided to frame their lovely faces while the men were covered from head to toe with the finest of coats.

Not all were as fortunate. There were a select few you caught glimpses of as you passed who were as dirty as you were, shoeless and hopeless. Begging for scraps of food or cheap coins, only to be spat on like the scum of the Earth.

You were no different. Next to Soap, you looked like a helpless, little mouse with dirty bags of fabric that fell loosely on your body, with your feet blackened from the lack of cover. It was utterly humiliating.

Soap kept a solid grip on your arm as he led you through the heaps of shoppers. He kept his eyes forward, scoping out any possible threat. You could see the hardwired focus geared in his brain, as if working on pure muscle memory.

“Pretty neat of a place, aye?” Soap asked, attempting small talk. He glanced over at you, wearing that boyish grin of his.

“It’s wonderful,” you replied, taking in the sights.

You meant it. Shops lined every corner of the dirt paths, windows displaying pretty dresses or tailored suits. Where you expected the town to look depressing, you found color, filling you with a warm dose of serenity.

This was a town you could grow to love. It was busy and loud, but the opportunity seeped out through every corner, calling your name. Your freedom rang out like a bell, offering you a place for your dreams to come true.

You had to escape if you truly wanted it. Your plan would have to unfold, even if it meant being patient.

“Yer bound to see a whole lot more towns better than this one, dove,” Soap boasted, grinning with pride. “Ye will grow to accept us one day.”

You stared up at Soap while the two of you walked. It was a shame, really, that he was the only one decently kind to you. Kind was far too generous of a word to describe any of these men, but it was the closest thing to what Soap was being towards you.

He was still a pirate, though.

“I am not so sure of that,” you confessed, unsure of why you did.

“Ach, ye will. The rest are secretly a bunch of softies,” he claimed, waving a dismissive hand. “We’re still human even if we’re pirates.”

“You’ve kidnapped me,” you stated.

“Mm. Yes.”

“You burned down my home,” you continued.

“Perhaps.”

“You killed my people,” you finished.

“You know nothin’ of what we do, dove. How about we keep shoppin’ for ye and stop worryin’ about the past?” Soap asked, not unkindly. He was surprisingly composed despite your accusations.

You stared at him for a moment longer before looking away. There was no point in arguing when the plan was to escape the moment you had the chance. Today would be the last day you’d ever have to converse with Soap and his men, if you played your cards right.

“You’re right,” you said quietly. “I apologize.”

“There ye go, dove.” Soap returned to smiling, giving a mocking pinch to your grimy cheek. “Now, what all do ye need?”

Soap made escape increasingly difficult. His hand remained secure around your arm for every shop you went in, keeping you by his side. It was as if he had a secret sense that let him know of your plans. Or perhaps he was following Price’s orders.

He stuck with you with every purchase. You gathered herbs, freshly made medicines, and a new book and quill to jot down notes in a journal. Soap allowed you the pleasure of collecting expensive items, unwavered by the prices.

He paid for them in gold, little round coins he’d slap on to the counter and leave behind without waiting for the shop tenant to gawk at such a rare sight of payment.

It wasn’t until you passed a clothing shop did he falter. His steps had stopped, eyes peering into the window. You stopped with him, dissecting his reaction.

“Sorry, dove. Makin’ a stop for myself,” he stated, tugging you into the shop. To your surprise, he let go of your arm, leaving you standing near the entrance. “Stay put. I’m trustin’ ye, so don’t make me regret it, aye?”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you gave him a nod. He threw you a beaming smile before stalking off into the store, disappearing just out of sight. You remained firm in place, hands clasping in front of you.

The pit in your stomach twisted from the nerves that wracked you. This was your moment, your only chance of escape. If you didn’t take it now, you may never be lucky enough for another one.

As if fate was sealing itself, your eyes caught sight of a group of guards walking past the store, wooden rifles at the ready on their shoulders. They were speaking amongst themselves, oblivious to your inner turmoil from where you stood in the entrance of the shop.

A quick glance behind you showed that Soap was still occupied, unbeknownst to your plan. You could only see the top of his head, the messy mohawk sticking out like a sore thumb.

With the opportunity in front of you, you took it.

You moved slowly at first. Unsure, cautious. But once you made it out of the shop with Soap realizing, you amped your speed. Your dirty bare feet clambered clumsily along the dusty streets, digging into the little pebbles that littered them.

The dull sting of pain as you sprinted to the guards was disregarded. It was nothing compared to the ache of freedom you desired.

“Hello!” you shouted, garnering their attention. They turned, eyeing you with a judgmental glint at the state of you. “Please, I need help!”

“What can we do for you?” one of the guards asked, suspicious. His eyes were set on your feet, which were caked with months of filth. “A lass like you shouldn’t be out without a chaperone.”

“You don’t understand,” you gasped, catching your breath from the anxiety that rattled you like a drum. “I’ve been kidnapped by— by pirates and I’ve only just escaped. Please, I need your help, or they will take me back.”

“Pirates?” The guards perked up, glancing between one another as if sharing a secret you were unaware of. “How many pirates, lass?”

“Four,” you explained. “The Captain— his name is John Price. He is the one that took me from my village and I have been imprisoned on his ship for so long, I do not recall the days. Will you help me?”

You were frantic. Desperate. It showed in the way your voice shook, the way your frame shivered with nerves.

“It is not,” Guard Two said to his companion.

“It is,” Guard One said, the one who had spoken to you first. This time, they spoke to one another rather than to you, as if you were invisible. “There is only one Captain Price. It is 141.”

Guard Two looked over at you, face set firm. His eyes were piercing and cold, and it made you shrink down into yourself. They were not welcoming or kind like you expected a guard’s to be.

Guard One fumbled in the pocket of his britches before pulling out an aged paper. On it were the faces of the pirates with the exception of Ghost, covered by his signature mask. All of them were plastered on the page with a bounty over their heads, as well as a promise of exile for their arrest.

Execution. The pirates would be executed publicly if they were caught. The punishment was inked in bold letters beneath their pictures, and each letter was taunting you with the blood that would be spilled on your hands for turning them in.

An unsettling guilt began to gnaw at you. You were unsure of why. Captain Price and his crew had stolen you from your home and made you their medic. They had you sleeping in a cell for nights uncounted, eating slop out of a bowl like a dog.

Yet, to kill them was much too burdening on you. They were mean, heartless, and unworthy. Yet, death was unkind. You were not so shallow.

“Is this what they look like?” Guard One asked, holding the paper in front of you. It was undoubtedly them, down to every detail.

“Yes,” you confirmed, though not as confidently as before. There was now a weight in your tone, as if holding back. “Yes, that’s them. You— you will kill them once you find them?”

Guard Two laughed, though it was bone chilling. There wasn’t a hint of warmth in it, only distaste and rage. “Of course. They’re to be hanged for their crimes. They are savages.”

He took a step closer to you, leaning down to your level. His aura was threatening, and you could feel yourself cowering away. “You must tell us where they are at once. We will help you once we have captured them.”

You took a step back, deflating. Everything within you told you that you made a mistake. If you went through with exposing their whereabouts and having them captured, their deaths would be because of you. You would be a murderer.

“I—“ You swallowed, clenching your clammy hands into nervous fists. “I do not know where they’ve gone. I ran away as soon as I could.”

“Not a problem,” Guard One gruffed, taking hold of your arm, just as Soap had done before. Now, more than ever, a part of you wished it was Soap rather than the guard. “You will guide us to their ship.”

“Please let go of me,” you murmured brokenly, covering the guard’s hand with your own to pry his fingers off. They didn’t budge. “Please.”

Your pleas were shadowed by their greed. You recognized the look in their eyes, and it scared you to the bone.

Bloodthirst. They were hungry to capture the pirates, hungry to be the ones to guide them to their impending death. It was not about helping you. It was about the handsome reward they would receive for turning in the most wanted criminals of the sea.

You began to panic. The air in your lungs felt weak, and you could feel the world around you closing in.

This was not the outcome you wanted. You simply wanted your freedom, yet it would come with a cost that you weren’t sure you could afford.

You did the only thing you could think of doing. Your fist collided with the guard’s face with a nasty crunch, causing blood to spew from his nose like a spout. It speckled on your dirty cheeks, tainting them further.

The guard let out a shout, releasing your arm. When his companion attempted to make a grab for you, you bolted, legs carrying you back to the shop Soap had been left in.

Chaos ensued from behind you. You could hear the clamber of guards, racing after you, yelling profanities in the air. The townsfolk stopped to observe, women placing their hands over their mouths in bewilderment, men torn between watching or intervening.

It was a commotion you never planned on starting, and now, all eyes were on you.

Soap came into sight from in front of the store. He looked focused and angry, eyebrows pulled together, jaw set taut. When he locked in on you as well as the guards behind you, there was no relief. His eyes were as intense as the guards had been, if not more.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” you sobbed pathetically, but he gave you no chance to pause your running.

Soap grabbed your hand in his, lugging you along the dirt paths. He swerved the streets, pulling your arm harder every time you fell behind. You struggled to keep up, spots of blood dotting the ground beneath you from the newly open wounds from pebbles that sliced open the soles of your feet.

You were pulled into a narrow alleyway with Soap, out of sight from the guards. Soap’s large hand shoved your head, urging you to crouch down behind a row of barrels that crowded the alley.

Your heart was nearly lurching out of your chest from your hiding space. Pounding footsteps raced past the alley, a cloud of dust filling the air and burning your nose. Voices could be heard shouting nearby, but not close enough for you to make out what they were saying.

Soap and you stayed put, his hand muffling your mouth, body smothering yours. He held his breath, ears listening in for the guards.

After what felt like an eternity, the footsteps grew farther away, voices fading into the wind.

“I trusted ye to stay put, dove,” Soap whispered, voice full of anger and betrayal. “I’ve been nice to ye. Why couldn’t ye just stay like I told ye?”

You whimpered into his hand, low and depressing. You felt defeated. Your fate was undetermined more than ever before, and you feared what the pirates would truly do to you now that you went against their word.

“C’mon,” he huffed, letting go of you and standing from behind the barrels. He grabbed hold of your arm, hauling you up and keeping you in his grip.

Soap crept the two of you through the town, slipping through every crack in the buildings to remain unseen. If people saw you, they remained silent, fearful of the pirate amidst their town.

The closer the two of you got to the ship, the more your heart sunk to your stomach. You were wracked with terror, horrified of the punishment you’d endure. The only thing you could do is let Soap string you along like a puppy on a leash.

“We need to go,” Soap barked at Price. The other men had long returned from their shopping, only awaiting your arrival with Soap. “Now.”

Gaz fluttered away without question, preparing to undock the ship and leave no trail in the town behind. Price and Ghost, on the other hand, were far more concerned.

“What the hell happened?” Ghost asked, voice gruff and dark, eyes narrowed on you.

“Dove tried rattin’ us out,” Soap hissed, throwing a glare your way. You shrunk in his hold, avoiding his eyes and bowing your head low. “Guards are lookin’ high and low. They know we’re here.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Ghost grunted, leaving the three of you to aid Gaz in prepping the ship for sail. He walked with a looming shadow over him, black and scary, oozing out the mist of pure acrimony.

Price stood tall and terrifying, arms crossed over his chest, the lines of his face firm and tight. He stared at you with a guise of disappointment and resentment, and if looks could kill, you would surely be one of their many victims.

The Captain took a step towards you, leaning down to your height. His hand grabbed hold of your face, fingers digging into your flesh as he forced you to look at him. His eyes were glaring, stabbing you with millions of daggers.

He shifted your head from side to side, inspecting the specks of blood that dotted your face. He was silent, making everything much more unnerving, and when he let go of you, he spared you not another glance.

“Take her to the cell,” Price ordered Soap. “We’ll deal with it later.”

Soap nodded grimly, tugging your arm aggressively so he could guide you to the brig doors. The sight of them made you sick, and you fought in his hold, which did nothing but make you look like a fool.

“Stop squirmin’,” he hissed, irritated. Seeing him without his signature smile made your chest fill with sickening guilt, and it twisted your insides in a painful knot.

The cell welcomed you when you stepped down familiar stairs. It was a slap in the face, seeing it once again, and you wanted nothing more than to take back everything you’d done and apologize to Price until he let you back into the comfort of his quarters.

But there was no going back. The deed was done. This was your price for freedom, and before it was handed to you, it had been snatched right out of your hands.

Soap shoved you into the cell with enough force to ensure you went inside, but gentle enough to make sure you didn’t topple over. Even now, when you’d betrayed his trust, he didn’t aim to hurt you. The pill was suffocating to swallow.

The cell shutting behind you rattled through your ears like a deafening shriek. The lock clicked, and Soap made no effort to move, not yet. Instead, he stood there, eyes boring into you through the bars of your cage.

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out. So, you stood shamefully, staring at the floor beneath your aching feet.

Something clattered on the floor, and when you shifted your gaze to find it, what stared back at you was a pair of shoes. New, unworn, and pretty. For you.

Looking up at Soap, his expression was unreadable. He no longer looked at you. He seemed just ashamed as you did. It was as if all the anger he had before had diminished, and he now looked like a hurt boy, betrayed and ridiculed.

“I hope they fit,” he said quietly. While you stared at him, he was now the one avoiding looking at you. “Didn’t know what ye liked.”

Soap turned on his heel, trudging up the stairs with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He made no effort to look back at you, to study your stunned expression. Instead, what greeted you was his back as it filtered through the brig doors, shutting behind him with a loud slam.

You looked back at the shoes, careful when you picked them up. They were bland in taste, yet the prettiest thing you’d been gifted in your life.

Soap trusted you to stay while he went to surprise you with a new pair of shoes, and you had only gone behind his back out of fear of his pirate crew that had taken you from your home.

You felt no better than a pirate.

[ruoshik0]

DP x DC: The al Ghul twins but with a twist!

Danyal al Ghul was- is a phenomenal actor. Always have been.

He was one of the best in the league for infiltration and espionage. None can deny that.

Along with his twin, Damian- whose skill sets are the complete opposite, they made for a terrifying pair of twins.

Ra's al Ghul saw that. He would have been a fool not to. The heir and his spare were talented in a completely different way.

So much so that Ra's decided to team them up. In the spotlight, Damian- the heir- would fight with raw strength and brutal power whilst Danyal- the spare- would strike from the shadows with amazing efficiency.

However, as much as they are better together, the twins must learn to be independent. To better themselves by being alone.

Relying on another encourages codependency after all.

And Ra's did not want such a pathetic thing to be a bigger problem than it is now.

So, he sent the spare to learn more about the Lazarus waters. A long term mission of infiltration and espionage. And while the League did not do such missions, he needed to learn more about the waters and it's properties to make better use of it. And simply forcing the two scientists to spill everything may result in a less than favorable outcome. Learning from the inside is better, really.

And whilst Danyal was away, he would further along Damian's training.

It was a good plan. Two birds with one stone.

And when Danyal arrived at his destination, he was a little worse for wear. Torn and dirty clothes, messy hair and acted beyond his years. He was in the alley right next to the Fentons' house when they first found him. They decided letting him spend a few days in their home to get ahold of a normal life before sending Danyal to the CPS was a good idea.

They quickly got attached to the cute and soft child beneath the always suspicious and hesitant orphan.

The Fentons immediately adopted him after deciding he would stay.

His name is now Daniel James Fenton.

Daniel was an average kid who acted like how you would expect an orphan who had lived on the streets for a long time.

His academic performance is above average in comparison to the other kids.

Even without the Fenton blood running through his veins, Daniel fit right in with the weird family.

As stated before, Danyal al Ghul is a phenomenal actor.

When he first arrived, he engineered a situation in which the scientists had no other choice than to take him in for a time.

When he was successful, he didn't stop to celebrate. Danyal immediately started working on making them warm up to him. Little gestures such as a hesitant hug and following them around like a little duckling worked like charms. Little giggles here and a little harmless prank there worked too.

Those psychology books and being near civilians more often helped him with these things. As well as the specialized training from the League.

When the child named Jasmine had fallen in his trap, it was easy to get the parents in too.

After getting adopted, although not before getting him a legal identity, he immediately started working who exactly he wanted Daniel to be and how people saw him.

A scared little child who jumps at any loud noises and a big interest in space and stars. Mostly because Danyal himself was a big space nerd and it's hard to fake enough interest to seem real.

Then he had gotten himself friends. A quaint life in a quaint town meant having less than 5 friends.

Samantha Manson and Tucker Foley were both viewed as weird and should be avoided. The new kid in town has befriended both and thus should be avoided by association.

He did not want to deal with even more obnoxious kids.

Danyal had lived a fake life with a fake personality. He trained whenever he can, and helped in the lab other times.

Weekly written reports to the League.

And learn as much as he can.

That was then. Now, Danny was no longer as alive as he was. And while it's a nuisance, his ghostly powers brought a lot of advantage.

When he first became Phantom, he fought ghosts. Acted like the wimpy yet still brave Danny in front of his friends.

Every few days, he would complain about the vigilante life and every other day he would use make up to worsen his appearance. A little darker dark circles and messier nest of a hair.

And while Danyal got the hang of his new abilities in a few days, Danny took a few weeks.

He purposefully dropped his grades because Danny couldn't find the time to study and Danyal knew Sam and Tuck would get suspicious if his grades remained the same.

Weeks and weeks after, learning more about the Lazarus waters, ghosts, and it's properties at a faster rate than ever before, Danyal decided that his little engineering and sciencing hustle should end. And by that, he means he should end the mission. So he started working on the last phase of his plans.

(He got too attached. Oh Ancients, he got too attached. He wanted to stay there and actually live like a normal person. He wanted to but- but... what about his brother...? He had to leave. Leaving means more suffering for them. His... friends and family.

He is so gonna miss the cat and mouse chase with the Fentons. He is gonna miss everyone. He hopes everyone forgets him so that he can leave feeling a little better)

First step, making those who are in the know about Phantom, warm up to the idea of him leaving vigilantism behind.

Every few weeks, he would joke about quitting as Phantom. That turned into months and Danny started looking even worse than when he first became Phantom. Danny wouldn't have a future if he didn't study more. But he couldn't because of vigilantism. And the stress caught up to him.

16 year old Daniel James Fenton decided he should stop when he was finally convinced by his two friends and two sisters.

(He hated how much he engineered these situations)

And while Danyal knew Danny didn't have a future, Danny himself didn't and thus acted like it.

It was hard trying so hard to rebut his circle of people when he just wanted agree right then there. It all ended in a messy and teary situation Danyal would have liked to avoid altogether.

(His tears were real. He didn't want to admit that he was crying. Mourning his loss before it happened)

The things he does to stay character.

Phantom quit after loudly announcing he was moving to another place to haunt.

And Danny's grades slowly went up to what it used to be before the ghost nonsense. He was finally relaxing again.

He was anxious. Anxious to the point of tensing. His League training thrown put the window)

Few months after, Daniel James Fenton went missing with little to no clues as to why.

Everyone mourned him. His ghostly core was happy when he had caught a glimpse of his grave while he was... visiting, for a lack of a better word.

(Finally, he was being mourned. Because he did die. Death touched him and he didn't even have a grave before this)

Now Danyal al Ghul returned from his long term mission. He could finally be himself again.

(Somewhere along the way Danny had become Danyal's real personality)

The League of Assassins was exactly as he had first left it. There were a few very glaring issues though.

First, Damian isn't here. He had left. Left Danyal alone. It took quite the willpower to not go out and track wherever Damian had gone to.

Second, Ra's al Ghul wasn't here. Grandfather had died and his body was nowhere to be found.

Third, Mother was leading. While it is not that much of an issue, Danyal is to be the heir and shall by crowned the leader in a few weeks time. Which is a big issue. Mostly because he was supposed to be in the shadows. Danyal decided that he did not want to be in the limelight like his brother.

Plus, he was already the Eventual King of another dimension. A rather infinite one might he add.

Ugh, more responsibilities.

He decided that he would greet his brother on their seventeenth birthday. A little terrorizing never hurts anybody.

Till then, he'd have to train his ass off.

(He’d do just about anything stop himself from thinking about Amity Park and its residents)

Sigh...

[phantasmique]

Summary: You weren't sure what to expect from Sukuna as a father. You had always imagined cold indifference, impatience, and brutality. . . Not this.

Warnings: Depictions of complicated childbirth, but all is well in the end (you're giving birth to Sukuna's fat as* baby, it ain't smooth sailing), girl dad sukuna, murder, violence, and fluff (He's a secret softly for his bbg)

Part two of this.

There were already whispers being scattered about the estate, murmured quietly within corridors and dark halls. Voices belonging to servants, humans and sorcerers alike that gossip assumptions about your pregnancy. Horrible claims - fears that you yourself had initially had - that the King of Curses only intends to use you as a vessel, to eat your child as soon as it is free from the womb. That he'll execute you as soon as the baby's cries ring out across the air and your labors are through.

You've learned to brush the dread and insecurities off, lest they take root, but it's difficult to ignore the anxiety that sinks in your belly at the thought of such a thing.

As horrific as it is to think, such a possibility wouldn't be entirely out of reach for a monster such as Sukuna.

It nearly makes you crippled with fear as the suspected date of your child's arrival creeps closer and closer.

✧ It was nineteen terrible hours of labor before your child was born. It was somehow a smeared blur and a vivid, visceral crawl of time all at once as you drew in ragged breaths between contractions. The midwives had encircled you closely, monitoring your every twitch and cry as you squatted on the mat, whimpering and huffing between your teeth. Some would make to rub your back, attempting to soothe you while every individual muscle in your body tensed and bore down with all of the strength they had, as though your being was determined to crush you from the inside out. You felt like you were dying. Flayed open and left to choke on choppy gasps.

✧ Sukuna was present for the entire process, refusing to stand outside of the chambers or to wait behind the blinds that had been set up to keep you hidden and private to the possibility of peering eyes. He shockingly said little during labor, opting instead to watch the midwives as they did their work. Even in your pained, exhausted state, you could notice how his presence had frightened them all, their eyes remaining trained on the floor, wide and anxious as they soothed and directed you as calmy as they could. All while he observed them with an air of equal indifference and hostility, an unspoken warning burning across the strained atmosphere. A warning - a promise - that if any misfortune were to fall on either you or the baby, that none of them would live to see the dawn rise.

✧ Active labor arose with its own complications, an unsettling reality that you hadn't wanted to face beforehand, but your child, it had seemed, was determined not to be born. No matter how tightly you clamped your muscles down, squeezing until your breath was crushed from your lungs and you couldn't even manage to scream all while you longed to, the babe wouldn't budge.

Everything burned. As though you had been lit on fire from the inside out, your organs turned liquid and shattered, your gasps snagging in your lungs as your forced yourself to breathe. It was as though your skull was made of stone as you forced it to lean back on your neck, which felt brittle, loose on your shoulders as you peered up at Sukuna through blurred vision; tears smearing across your eyes as you panted through your raw throat: "Ryomen, I can't. I can't do this."

He was moving then. Shifting across the wooden floor in a manner too fluid and quick for a being so tall, and in a blink, he had all but shoved the woman behind you away from your back. Harshly tipping her over onto her hands and knees, leaving her to scramble away like a wounded mouse as he replaced her. But instead of merely seating himself behind you to place an awkward hand on your spine, he was melding his body flush along your own, a pair of arms coming to grip your hips as he cradled as though you were a delicate, broken bird.

One of the midwives was barking orders, rattling off commands, but you were too dazed to comprehend them. The pain searing up your spine and burning through the cradle of your hips singlehandedly wiping out a single coherent thought. You could barely manage to internally curse yourself for each time you had allowed Sukuna to touch you, berating your past self for all the times that he had successfully seduced you and drew you to his bed.

This was his fault, and you made sure to tell him through gritted teeth.

But wors of all was the harrowing possibility that you might not survive at all. That your child might have to live without a mother.

You wanted to tell him then, that if he had to choose between the two of you, to pick the baby. That you would never forgive him if he allowed the child to die.

And then his voice was in your ear, low and soothing, but breaking across the pained fog in your mind easily. "You can do it, and you will. Nothing is going to happen to you; you're going to keep pushing. For your sake and our child's." He sounded so certain then. So deceptively calm, but you know Sukuna, perhaps better than you truly realize, and the agitation lurking beneath the placidity of his tone was clear to you then.

Perhaps it was hysteria settling in. The shock and pain of it all melding with disbelief as you registered that he was truly afraid. At least to some extent. But instead of frightening you in turn, it almost seemed to empower you. The realization that a violent entity like the King of Curses actually cares for you settling in your bones and sinew like a breath of life.

One of his hands had slipped across your slack, sweat dampened palm, threading his thick fingers through your own to offer a reassuring squeeze. "Hold onto me." He offered you then, firm and tender all at once. "As tightly as you need to."

You're certain that if he were a normal man, you would have broken the bones in his hands with how aggressively you had gripped onto it. But not once had he flinched or attempted to tug his hand from the vice of your grasp. Keeping it in place, an anchor, no matter how tightly you constricted it between your fingers as you bore down and screamed until your throat felt torn and ruined. You hadn't even noticed when finally, the sound of pitchy, furious cries rang out across the birthing chambers. By then, you had already passed out. Your vision crowding over with blackened dots and smoke, your eyes had slipped shut abruptly and your head had lolled back onto his chest.

✧ When you finally held your daughter for the first time, it all became apparent as to why her birth was such a difficult one. You've held and seen your fair share of infants; you had been present during the birth of your niece only months before you had been offered up by your village to appease Sukuna, but never, have you seen a newborn so massive.

She's a plum thing, chunky with a pudge and round, rosy cheeks. But the size of her had outclassed any child that you had ever seen, and as you cradled her to your chest, you couldn't help to wonder how you had managed to birth her at all.

Sure, it came with its complications, namely, you passing out as soon as you had succeeded in finally pushing her from your body, but most notably was the tearing and bleeding that had come with it. Apparently, what had followed was a frantic scramble from the physicians to stop the hemorrhaging. The men were desperate to halt the bleeding and get you stabilized. According to one of the midwives, who had whispered conspiratorially as she checked over you during the early morning, shared that they were failing to do so. The wounds too great to stop. So much so that she had feared that they would lose you. It had been Lord Sukuna who had healed you, she disclosed, utilizing his cursed energy to seal the tearing in your body, stopping the bleeding.

The physicians it seemed, had also secured their deaths by failing their duties, and she had revealed that the curse had slain them all where they stood.

✧ As disturbing as it was to hear, as much as you wanted to be angry by that bit of gossip, you couldn't manage it. Not as you held her. The thing that had caused you so much trouble already, but as soon as you looked into her eyes, all of the pain and agony that had haunted you only hours before seemed to melt away as easily as ice thawing beneath the sun.

Despite the considerable size of her, a plump thing that must at least be twice as big as any newborn you've ever witnessed, she appears to be rather human. Like you. No extra limbs or eyes. Not that you would have cared if she had them.

She looks like you. She has the same shade of skin; and despite the roundness of her features, chunky and less defined by her baby fat, it's clear to see that she has the shape of your nose. But she isn't all you. There's a clear influence of Sukuna in her rounded features.

Most babies have dark eyes, or they start out as a muted blend of gray and blue until it shifts into their true shade, but her color is already set in. The same striking hue as her father's, that deep burning red, lightly tinged with a delicate lilac, that for her you think, is the equivalent to the temporary blue that most infants have.

Her nails are also tinged a little dark, not nearly as rich as the color of Sukuna's talons, but you can only imagine that they'll blacken over time, and it wouldn't be impossible for them to become just as sharp. It makes you wonder if her teeth will be just as defined and lethal as her father's.

You can only hope that you won't be breast feeding by that time.

✧ You had almost expected - feared, honestly - that Sukuna would want nothing to do with her once he had the confirmation that she wasn't male - as a "proper" heir should be. The anxiety that he would ignore her or reject her all together had settled in the pit of your stomach like a nausea.

So it had been horrific when you had found your child absent from her nursery one late evening. You had felt panicked. Your mind overcome with a fear for the worst. That he had seen her as a waste and . . . disposed of her.

It had made you frantic, nearly running down the halls of the estate and snatching ahold of any soul that would cross your path, gripping them so tightly that you're sure you've left bruises as you demanded them to tell you where your child was. None of them knew.

It wasn't until you had burst into the throne room with wild eyes and the intent to kill that all of your panic and betrayal was snuffed out as quickly as it had kindled - extinguished like a wildfire meeting the shoreline of a placid sea.

You stood dumbfounded along the entrance of the room, staring off at the far end of it, past the group of village heads and clan leaders as they sat near the base of the throne. But it was the man that bent their wills and forced their loyalty that had you frozen in place.

He appeared as imposing as he always does, regal and languorous all at once as he reclined against the support of his ornate throne, propping his chin up on the heel of a single hand as he usually does. But it was the infant held carefully to his chest that caught you off guard.

Never could you have ever imagined that Sukuna would so brazenly display his child to the masses. It was a show of tenderness that was hardly fitting the volatile image of the King of Curses; a gnarled image painted by blood and ash. And yet it looked so human. So oddly natural to see her sheltered in a pair of his arms, a bit of drool dribbling from her bottom lip as she softly babbled to herself. The soft cooing just barely distinguishable over the chatter of one of the many village leaders as he speaks.

Your daughter had no concept of the meeting she had been invited to attend, and her attentions had been fastened elsewhere. Particularly on her father, who observes the crowd of fearful men, unbothered as his daughter grips at the collar of his robe. It's as though she's attempting to use it as leverage to try and sit herself upright, but only a few days old, her muscles are still undefined and her limbs equally uncooperative. It left her little choice but to stretch a single hand up, leaving the other to grip his collar to remain stabilized as she reached towards his head with wiggling, chubby fingers.

The cause of her fascination, it seemed, was Sukuna. Or more specifically, the mask like growth of hard, armored skin on the right side of his face.

He remains impassive in his observations, still it appears that he's unable to keep the lower eye that peers through the ridges of raised flesh from gazing downward to watch the baby that's determined to study him.

His expression is cold. Detached. And yet you're certain that there's a glimmer of warmth there. A smoldering, weak ember. So delicate that you doubt anyone else might have noticed, but to you, it's unignorable.

She seems to realize, somehow, that her father is watching her, because a loud trill that sounds suspiciously close to a delighted, unclear laugh spikes sharply though the air. Bouncing loudly along the walls noisily enough to cut over the voice of the man speaking.

It causes him to faulter. Falling silent as he observes the strange and perhaps improper sight before him. And then he manages to speak, shoulders twitching as he shifts uncertainly on his place seated on the floor.

"My Lord, I mean no disrespect, but are you certain this is the proper setting for a child-"

Much like all the others that have come before him, he hardly gets his final words out before he's silenced. A jarring, abrupt hush falling over the space before a spray of blood erupts from his body, spilling out from the back of his head in a line that gushes down until it meets the floor beneath him. It happens all in a quick second. A blink of an eye. And then the halves of his body - split clear down the middle like a butchered hog - collapse along the polished wood with heavy, damp thuds.

The blood from his remains spreads across the floor in a steady flow, staining across the robes of the men that had the misfortune of sitting within his proximity. But none of them dare to move, not even as the rich silks adorning some of their bodies were tainted wet and red.

They all quivered, bodies shaking with the strength of the fear possessing them making them unable to breathe. You yourself were robbed of the ability to; all of the air siphoned from your lungs despite how many times you've witnessed similar slaughters.

And then there's your daughter, still held carefully by the being who had just murdered a man as though he were only vermin, still cooing to herself and clumsily tugging on the sleeve belonging to the arm that suspends her. Entirely safe within the grasp of an entity that is a danger to so many.

It's the King of Curses voice that fills the silence.

"Would anyone else care to share opinions that would better remain unspoken?"

None of them utter a single word.

✧ Your daughter adores her father. It's something that becomes quickly apparent, though maybe it shouldn't be a surprise with how easily he was always able to lull her into a calm when she was busy kicking and tossing and turning while still unborn and in your belly. Placating her with little more than a hand on your bump or the sound of his voice - but it's truly because of his cursed energy. Or at least that's what Sukuna tells you. That she's able to sense it and recognize it as something familiar.

He too can feel her own, obscure and unpracticed, but powerful nonetheless, despite only being an infant. Stronger than even centuries old curses and practiced sorcerers, he'd told you.

"Not that I'm surprised. She is my progeny, after all. There's no room for weakness in my bloodline."

He is still harsh in some respects. Expecting excellence, still violent and sadistic. Her arrival has done nothing to damp the instincts in him, not that you were expecting it to. You can only hope that he'll learn not to be so demanding of her. To trade his brutality for patience, at least in regard to her.

Her eyes always seem to light up when she sees him. That familiar shade of red that's usually alight with venom or arrogance, is now something much softer to you - alive with a child's innocence.

While others flinch and shy away from the monstrous sight of Ryomen Sukuna, fearful of his viciousness, she looks at him with nothing but curiosity and delight. A happy coo leaving her when he passes into her line of vision, completely unaffected by the sight of the appearance that so many call monstrous. But to her she only sees her father.

✧ You can't call him a changed man. And you doubt that you'll ever get that right, but he's as tender as an entity like him is capable of. It still shocks you to see him intentionally spend time with her, as brief as those moments can be, with him often busy with the lords and peasants alike that beg for mercy at his feet. Or caught up in the excitement of terrorizing villages until only fires and flayed bones remain in his wake.

But he does do his best, you know, to be involved in her life. Occasionally seeking you out while you're in the gardens while in between his duties. You go there frequently, to bask in the warmth that was finally beginning to creep back into the air after what had felt like an endless winter.

It was one particular evening when he had come to visit, unannounced, and managing to catch you entirely off guard as he sat himself down beside you. Eclipsing you from the sun with his height while he drew his long legs into a crossed position. He sat close enough that the right set of his arms brushed along your shoulder. For a moment he was entirely silent, observing your daughter from her place in front of you both.

You had laid a blanket out across the grass to keep it from possibly irritating her sensitive skin, but you thought it would do her some good in getting fresh air, rather than being inside of the estate each day, all day long.

She had spent a majority of her time staring up at the leaves shifting above her, admiring the way the sun flitted between the limbs in soft glints of gold; protected by the shade they offered. But only a few minutes in she had managed to squirm over until she had maneuvered onto her stomach to eagerly scan her surroundings, attention caught by the trill of birds and the breeze sweeping softly through the garden.

Despite her wonder, her muscles were still weak, underdeveloped from lack of use, and she wasn't quite able to build the strength to properly analyze her surroundings or shift forward.

You could see her arms twitch in front of her, as though she was longing to pull her body forward but unable to do so, and in response an angry pout had pinched her face. A sign that she had become upset by her inability to move as she truly wanted, but the sight of it let you know that a tantrum might be in the makings.

You were quick to lean over, gathering her up softly in her arms, softly hushing her as you clutched her close.

"Can she not even crawl?" Sukuna asked. As though he were disturbed, or mildly affronted by the discovery.

"She's still young, Ryomen. It's perfectly normal." You didn't bother trying to hide the way you were glaring at him. "It can take months for babies to learn how to crawl. It took a nephew of mine nearly ten."

Sukuna hummed under his breath. A low, noncommittal noise as he squinted down at her while she squirmed against your chest, her head wobbling back as she shifted, making an effort to seek him out. Following after the sound of his voice to stare back at him with an amused babble. It was as though she was greeting him in her own way.

"That nephew of yours sounds incompetent. She'll be better."

As overjoyed and proud as you were of it, you also couldn't help but to be annoyed when he was right. She would successfully crawl only four months later, and the arrogant smile he gave you in response made you want to slap him.

✧ One unfortunate trait of your child's is that she seems to be nocturnal. She tends to wake in the middle of the night, crying furiously until you're forced to clamber up from the bedding, eyes stinging with the desire to sleep. Sukuna had proposed that you employ a nursemaid to look after your child, a proposition that you had firmly rejected, regardless of how exhausted you often may be as a result.

On nights when Sukuna is absent and you're unable to shove his fatherly duties onto him, you couldn't help but to curse him, swearing quietly under your breath as you tend to your daughter. Always restless in the night.

As fussy as she can be, it luckily doesn't take long to lure her back into sleep, the sound of your voice doing enough to make her tire. Old lullabies and folksongs that had once been used to tempt you to rest now doing their job to do the same to your daughter as you lightly sway her in your arms while she watches you through tired blinks. Resisting sleep, fighting against herself as her eyes long to shut - a stubborn thing, just like her father. Though he insists that it's a trait she's inherited from you.

You agree to disagree.

But on nights when he is home, he does try to tend to his daughter. In the beginning you would have to berate him out of bed, chiding him that it was his responsibility as well.

He would concede, though not without an irritable grumble of his own, a warning flash of lethal teeth peeking from his lips, eyes searing red like he might actually tear you open for being so insolent, but the strike never comes. Your throat and breath remain intact, even as he glares with the intent to kill.

"Careful, woman. You may have borne my child, but it doesn't grant you immunity. It'd suit you to mind your tongue."

But the scolding is all talk. Not that you've allowed yourself to become ignorant to his nature. He is still violent. A sadistic, hedonistic being that lives to satiate his selfishness.

He may be the father of your child, but he still is and always will be the King of Curses. And living with him is like sharing a space with a beast that's become comfortable with your presence. You're permitted to indulge in him, not entitled to it. As much of a truth as that is, you can't help but to be comfortable with him.

It is not a figment of your imagination that he has become gentle with you to some extent. A favoritism that the other concubines and servants under his command have taken notice of. How he allows you to get away with comments and remarks that would have anyone else flayed open and skinned.

But not you. He wouldn't dare to touch you in a manner that would leave you lifeless and torn. You know that truly, in the depths of your soul, and as foolish as it may be, you would place your life in palms of his bloodied hands a thousand times over.

✧ You caught him once, late in the night, when the rest of the estate was asleep, and the only beings left awake seemed to be the three of you. You hadn't been up for long. Roused from the depths of your slumber by habit alone, your body stirring on its own from the repetition of being shocked awake by the cries of your daughter.

But that night there had only been a composed quiet.

It had concerned you at first, but a quick glance to your side had revealed that Sukuna was absent from his place beside you. The cursory glide of your hand had picked up traces of warmth along the bedding told you that he hadn't been gone for long.

You could have turned over and indulged in the extra sleep that you're rarely afforded, but something had urged you to gather yourself from the bed, leaving the sanctity of your sleeping quarters to go and seek out where Sukuna and presumably your daughter might have gone.

It didn't take you long to track them down, finding them in the throne room -somewhat predictably. You had stuck to the shadows, remaining silent as you observed a sight that Sukuna may not have allowed you to see otherwise.

He wasn't seated in his throne as he often is, but instead standing near the base of it, shrouded in dim light as he admires the ornate, embellished seat; the rows of steps raising it high.

She fusses for a moment in his arms, even in the low, amber light, you can see her face pinching with annoyance, tiny grunts spilling past her lips.

It's uncanny, if not a little amusing, how similar the scowl that crosses Sukuna's face looks in comparison to her pout. A displeased grimace pulling at his mouth, flashing his lethal fangs; the low light catches in his eyes, reflecting in the same manner that it would an animal's, flickers of gold shifting in his pupils.

It would make anyone else cower in fear. He appears more animal than man, but she remains entirely unaware and unscathed from the calamity that embraces her.

"You truly are a bothersome creature. " He remarks. It's said casually. As though she can understand him. It has her focus drifting back onto him, watery maroon eyes pinning onto his countenance with rapt attention. "You haven't got a clue, do you?"

His brows raise almost expectantly, as though he's waiting for her to answer him back. Of course, there's only silence from her end, earning a contemplative sort of hum from her father. It's as though she's disagreeing with him when a cry leaves her, loud and petulant enough that it nearly has you shifting from your hiding place to take her into your arms, but something keeps you rooted in place to watch the exchange.

"Silence." But she isn't one of his victims or followers and his command falls on deaf ears. Her protesting continues in quiet grunts that are gradually rising in pitch, and it has him tsking his tongue.

It seems so abrupt when her angry whimpers suddenly die out. Fading until she's only staring silently. It leaves you a little baffled, left to wonder what sort of spell he might have possibly casted on her to have her yield to his order, and then you hear it.

A low, rhythmic thrum that scatters along the atmosphere in a familiar resonance. One that you've heard directly beneath your ears, echoing out from the depths of his chest while you curl up against him at night.

He's purring to her.

The same way that a mother cat - or better yet, a tiger, will do to soothe its cubs. And it's effective. Already you can see that it's luring her closer to sleep. Her eye lids drifting to close as she actively resists the urge, practically squinting up at her father as she tries to remain awake. But it's a losing battle and the reposeful hum pitching from his chest finally draws her to pass out. Unconscious and peacefully resting in a span so swift that you can't help but to be impressed and jealous.

It's adorable how quickly her eyes finally slipped shut, now safe and content in her father's hold.

The clear look of admiration that overtakes his expression nearly breaks you. Never have you witnessed a glimpse of something so soft, so pure displayed in his stare.

"There's a long road ahead of you. Your existence alone poses a threat to mortals. It won't be easy." It sounds like a warning. Perhaps an apology. The hand cradling her shoulder, the size of it spanning the width of her body, lifts its thumb to smooth it along the swell of her cheek. A caress as though he intends to soothe her of a pain that she has yet to face. "I'm eager to see what you make of yourself. You are my heir, and I have no doubts that you won't bring this world to its knees."

It's a conversation - a hope - that any other mother would have been horrified to hear. A wish for her to continue his path of barbarity, but to you, with the sight of a man so cruel watching her as though she was the most sacred thing in the world, the only thing you could possibly feel is love.

[rafeyybabyy]

max verstappen // mv1 fic recs

———————————— 🏎️🏎️ ————————————

one shots

fluorescent - @scuderiahoney

“motorsport is a dog eat dog world, and you know that better than most. it’s not often you meet someone who understands, who shines a light on all the darkness, but max might just be the perfect person for it”

first loser - @itsgodepi

“in the wake of a disastrous race, you're caught under the media's unforgiving glare. your every move and word being dissected for days on end as you simply try to navigate your rookie year in formula one. It is just your luck that your opponent in this fiasco is none other than the famously outspoken max verstappen, whose relentless jabs only add to your frustrations”

zandvoort, nl - @frogstappen

“you watch max's home race from the red bull garage”

a different light - @userlando

"you weren’t just friends. friends didn’t touch you the way he did (or the one where max has an epiphany and realizes he's in love with his best friend)"

coming of age - @keerysfreckles

“in which a silly bet between the two redbull drivers becomes a reality when y/n wins the first race of the 2024 season”

tying you to me - @pierregazly

“[4 times] in which something coincidentally led back to max, and the [1 time] it turned out nothing was just a coincidence (in which everything has always tied max to you)”

denial is a man’s best friend - @marlenesluv

“ y/n and max have been friends since karting years, and now? now, they’re teammates at redbull. they are one of the best teammate duos in the grid, but what happens when max catches feelings?…or when everyone but them notices they are in love but themselves”

baby steps - @forteafy

“you've always been mercedes golden girl; your life and career have been set out in stone. all it takes is for your ultimate rival to change that all”

pick you up - @scuderiahoney

“when Max has one too many gin & tonics, you’re the one who picks (him) up, every time he calls”

temptations - @no-144444

“you and max are on break and things get out of hand. nothing like tmz to mess things up, right?”

never an interruption- @fastandcarlos

“you’re all ready to celebrate max’s win with him, only when you find someone already there to celebrate, you begin to question the role you truly play in max’s life”

little big fan - @thef1diary

“your daughter runs off while you were in the middle of grocery shopping because she spotted max, her favourite driver. meeting you, max wants to know everything about you and your six year old. so of course he finds excuses to keep meeting you, starting with inviting you to the dutch grand prix”

series

rule breaker series - @coff33andb00ks

“max has it all...right? besides, he's too busy collecting trophies and completing side quests for anything else. until... you moved across a whole ass ocean to start over, uprooting you and your son's lives to become social media admin for cars that drive in circles”

smau

yuck! series - @maxlarens - smau

“your aesthetic interest in max verstappen is purely professional, you swear”

won gold - @maxverstappendefender - smau

“olympic snowboarder!gf x mv1 (max being a complete simp for someone that doesn’t even know him)”

miami baby - @norrisainz33 - smau

“actress and avid f1 fan visits the paddock for the first time and she is a certain world champion’s celebrity crush”

worlds biggest fan - @astonmartinii - smau

“y/n is the president of the official max verstappen fan club, but nothing can come of that, right?”

*these are part of my fic rec masterlist, please note none of these are written by me and the author of each story had been tagged! check out my f1 fic rec masterlist for other drivers!*

[parkerslatte]

Centuries Coming

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 8.7k

Warnings: none.

Summary: Y/N and Azriel have been close friends for centuries. When Azriel begins to pull away from Y/N to spend more time with Elain, a mating bond snaps.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

It had been nearly three centuries of friendship and Y/N was sure she would never get bored of her relaxing sessions with Azriel. For two weeks, he had been away on a mission while Y/N continued her intense training sessions with Cassian. They both were well and truly exhausted. 

Y/N’s room, which was situated right next to Azriel’s, was nearly silent as the two friends relaxed. The only noise emitting from the room were the soft sounds of the pages flipping in a book and an occasional content sigh. With her left hand, Y/N held the book up to her eye level, skilfully flipping the page with her thumb when it was needed. Her other hand occupied Azriel’s head, her fingers threading through his soft locks as his head rested on her stomach. The two were utterly content. 

Once Y/N reached the end of the chapter, she spared a glance at Azriel. His eyes were closed and his breathing even. Y/N stilled her hand movement in his hair for a brief moment simply to admire the shadowsinger laying before her. He was beautiful, she had always thought he was beautiful ever since she had met him. Azriel carried a sense of elegance in his features that only stone carvings held. From the smoothness of his skin to the sharpness of his jaw, everything was sculpted to perfection. 

“Why did you stop?” Azriel questioned, nudging his head against Y/N’s hand. 

Y/N let out a breathy laugh before continuing to thread her fingers through his hair. Azriel wasn’t the only one who enjoyed this. She was very much enjoying herself too– as well as enjoying the way his arms were wrapped around her waist tightly. 

“I was just lost in thought for a moment,” Y/N replied, playing her book down on the bed next to her, the hand previously holding the book coming to rest upon Azriel’s shoulder. 

Azriel opened his eyes to view the book she had set down before his gaze shifted to meet Y/N’s. “Are you tired? You normally only stop reading when you are tired.”

The smile on Y/N’s face was soft. She loved it when Azriel noticed small specific details about her. “I’m not tired, just relaxed.”

Azriel’s head lifted from Y/N’s stomach before he shuffled himself up her bed to sit against the headboard, his wings splayed out behind him.  

“What are you doing?” Y/N questioned, curling her legs closer to her body, suddenly feeling the cold now that Azriel had moved. 

“Returning the favour,” Azriel responded before gently gripping Y/N’s arm and pulling her so her head rested against his chest. 

Y/N couldn’t help herself but inhale the familiar scent that she loved so much. Nothing relaxed her more than Azriel’s scent. Whenever she was stressed or simply having a rough day, she would always seek him out and over the course of the past few months, she hadn’t even had a reason to seek him out. Y/N just wanted to be around him. 

One of Azriel’s arm wrapped around Y/N’s shoulders and tangled in her hair whilst the other wrapped around her waist, keeping her body close to his. Y/N rested her hands on his firm torso, feeling the ridges of hard muscle beneath. She blushed. 

“Oranges,” Azriel muttered, his head turning into hers. 

“What?” Y/N asked, her voice muffled by his chest. 

“Your shampoo,” Azriel said. “It smells of oranges.”

“And other citrus fruits,” Y/N responded. “I bought it when–”

“When you went to the Summer Court,” Azriel cut her off. “I remember you mentioning it a few months ago.”

Moments like this with Azriel were quite common within their friendship. The two would often find themselves wrapped up with one another. Of course it was strictly platonic, it was what it had always been. At least that is what Y/N thought it was, but over the past few years, she had begun to notice Azriel in a new light. At first she would just take note of how handsome he looked when he was at ease surrounded by his family. She would then notice how much she enjoyed being around him while it was just the two of them. Y/N never thought anything of this at first but that feeling of disappointment that overcame her when someone else walked into the room was one she couldn’t explain. 

One particular moment where Y/N realised that she was falling hard for Azriel was on her four-hundredth birthday, just a little over three years ago. He had decided to give her her present in private. It was a small charm bracelet. Whenever Azriel would go away on a mission, he would always buy her a new charm to add to it. Nothing meant more to Y/N than that bracelet. However, the bracelet was not the thing that made Y/N realise her feelings– it was the kiss on her cheek. 

As soon as his lips touched her skin, Y/N could only wish that they had connected only a few centimetres to the left. She needed to feel his lips upon hers but she could only ever imagine it. Whenever she found herself staring at his lips when he spoke or when he wasn’t looking, she always imagined the way they would feel on hers– and other parts of her body. Even now as Y/N could feel Azriel’s lips graze the top of her head, she wished she could just lean up and capture them with her own. 

Y/N could only wish that they were more than friends.

***

Many months later, Y/N found herself knocking on Azriel’s door. She hadn’t seen much of him since she had bought her own house on the outskirts of Velaris. It was a small cottage with a large stretch of land overlooking the mountains. Y/N loved the location as she could sit and stare at the stars all night long and never get bored. But one thing she did miss was Azriel. 

As she waited patiently outside of his door, she heard footsteps approaching before the door opened and Azriel came into view. It seemed as if he had just woken up as his hair was a mess and he was rubbing sleep away from his eyes– and he was shirtless too. Y/N had to refrain herself from admiring his figure. 

“Y/N,” Azriel said, genuine surprise in his tone. “I didn’t know that you would be here.”

“I decided to stop by,” Y/N replied. “I haven’t seen you much recently, and I was wondering if you wanted to take a walk with me? I have a day off from my duties and was planning to visit the bakery that had just opened in the city.”

“Oh,” Azriel said. “I was going to take Elain there later. I promised I would go with her days ago.”

Y/N tried to keep the smile on her face, though it did falter a little. Her moving out was not the only reason she hadn’t seen Azriel much, the second reason was the middle Archeron sister who had seemed to take up a large majority of Azriel’s time.When she offered to hang out or train together, he was always with the middle Archeron sister. Even when they did make plans, Azriel always cancelled at the last minute to be with Elain.  Y/N didn’t want to say that she was a jealous person but she couldn’t help but be jealous of Elain. She was beautiful and kind. Of course Y/N was both of those things too but Elain made it so effortless, even when she wasn’t trying to be beautiful and kind– she was. 

“Okay,” Y/N said, stepping back from his door. “Well maybe we could go another time. What about tomorrow? We can make a day of it.”

The shake of Azriel’s head broke her heart. “I’m out with Elain tomorrow, as well. I don’t have the time.”

His answer was blunt and straight to the point. Y/N tried not to let his answer affect her but embarrassment seemed to encase her body. 

“Oh,” Y/N said, the smile now completely gone from her face. “I hope you two have fun, then.” Her gaze fell to the floor as she took another step back from his door. 

Before she could step further away from his door, Azriel caught her wrist in his hand. Y/N’s breath hitched as his skin touched hers. It had been a while since they had touched and it still sent goosebumps down her spine. Y/N’s eyes slowly travelled up his torso, the black tattoos swirling across his chest and shoulders. As her eyes met Azriel’s, Y/N felt as if she had stopped breathing altogether. That feeling in her chest seemed to pull her right to Azriel, pulling taunt until it snapped into place. 

A mating bond. 

The feeling of Azriel’s hand on her wrist was too much for her to bear. Y/N pulled her hand out of Azriel’s gentle grasp and held it close to her chest, missing the hurt look that flashed across his features for a brief moment. He folded his arms across his chest, hiding his hands. 

“If you want to wait, we could all go together,” Azriel said, his voice unusually quiet.

Y/N, somehow finding her voice, said, “No, I think I’ll just go on my own. Enjoy your time with Elain.”

Before Azriel could get another word in, Y/N practically raced from his doorway and out of sight. Her breathing became more and more ragged. Mate. Azriel was her mate. As Y/N hurried down the hall, she collided with a hard chest and stumbled back slightly. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” Cassian asked, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Y/N frantically nodded her head. “I’m okay. I’m fine, I was just going for a walk.”

Cassian didn’t get to ask another question as Y/N continued her path, ignoring her friend even when he called out to her. 

***

That had been three days ago. Y/N had asked Rhys for a few days off from her duties. With the mating bond snapping into place for her, she hadn’t been able to think straight. All she could think of was Azriel. The bond urged her to go to him but her mind fought back. It clearly hadn’t snapped for him and Y/N didn’t want to pressure him into anything if she told him. 

For centuries the two had been friends– close friends. She had confided in him over everything because he would always sit and listen. He would hug her in her times of need and hold her until she fell asleep. Azriel was her rock. Y/N let out a sigh as she laid down on her bed. Why now? She thought. What was it about that one singular touch and conversation that made the bond snap? 

They have had many more intimate touches before. With Azriel’s hand gently caressing her cheek. His arms wrapped around her waist as he lifted her from the floor to hug her tightly. Y/N’s hands gently touching his wing as she helped heal a painful gash. All of those touches had been a lot more intimate than the simple touch of her wrist. 

Even their conversations. The two had deep conversations about insecurity, inadequacy and many other important matters. There were conversations full of playful teasing that sometimes shifted over into the more flirtatious territory. Those conversations always made Y/N’s heart beat a little faster. But the bond hadn’t snapped for any of those. It had snapped when Azriel rejected her to spend time with another female.

Y/N rolled over in her bed and pulled the blanket further around her body. She still couldn’t believe that Azriel was her mate. The way Y/N was feeling, she was sure she had never had so many emotions within her in her whole life. 

She glanced at the charm bracelet on her wrist. It was decorated with eleven charms. The newest one was just over a year old. Normally Azriel would buy her a charm whenever he was away for a long period of time or on special occasions. Of course Y/N tried to stop him, she didn’t want him to spend his own money on her. But every time she mentioned it, Azriel would simply return with a new one much more beautiful than the last. Y/N touched the last charm he had bought her. It was a simple silver heart. There wasn’t anything special about it but it was Y/N’s favourite. 

As Y/N was lost in her thoughts, loud knocking came from her door. Y/N didn’t even attempt to move from her position on her bed, even when the knocking got louder. 

“Y/N, let me in!” Cassian’s voice came from outside. 

Y/N didn’t respond even as he complained about the cold. She pulled the blanket to her chin and looked at the heart charm. When she had first received it, she was sure that was a hint toward his feelings, that he might have loved her in the way she loved him. But only a week after gifting her that charm, he began to spend almost all of his spare time with Elain. Of course Y/N tried not to let it affect her too heavily– if Azriel was happy then she would try to be happy for him. 

“Y/N, I’m coming in!” Cassian called and she heard her door unlock. 

Cassian’s heavy footsteps came up her stairs until her bedroom door was pushed open. 

“How did you get in?” Y/N questioned, her head poking out of the mass of blankets. 

“I took the spare key from Az’s room while he was out with Elain,” Cassian explained.

Y/N felt her heart drop at the mention of Azriel out with Elain once again. He always seemed to have time for her but whenever Y/N spoke to him recently, he was always in a rush to get away or on his way to see Elain.

“What’s wrong?” Cassian asked. 

The bed dipped as Cassian sat down, pulling off his boots. Y/N turned over in the bed to face him as he got comfortable under the covers. She had missed Cassian recently. Of course he had been tasked with training Nesta so she knew that he had a lot to do but she missed these moments where they could just sit and talk. 

“I am just…confused,” Y/N said, sitting up in her bed slightly. 

“Why?” Cassian asked, folding his arms across his chest. 

Y/N looked down at her bracelet. “It’s about Azriel.”

Cassian’s gaze softened. “I thought as much.”

“What?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows. “How would you know?”

Cassian glanced down to the bracelet on her wrist. “I was with him when he bought that bracelet for you. He made me follow him around every single shop in Velaris to find something perfect for you.” Y/N’s smile was small but it was there as she conjured up the image in her head. “Azriel decided on that bracelet for you because he could buy you the charms to add to it and it would give him an excuse to give you presents.”

“I tried to stop him but he wouldn’t accept my refusal,” Y/N said, finally looking up at Cassian.

“He’s a stubborn bastard,” Cassian said, humour lacing his tone. “Especially when it comes to you. He loves you.”

Y/N scoffed. “He does not love me. Don’t joke about things like that, Cassian.”

“I’m not joking, Y/N,” Cassian said. “He has never told me, but I have noticed it in his actions. At every opportunity he has, he seeks you out.”

“It’s only because you and Rhys probably are not around,” said Y/N. 

Cassian chuckled. “Az has sought me out before when he was having a bad day, but he has never cuddled me until we fell asleep together in bed.”

Y/N glared at him. “How did you know about that?”

“You left your door open once and you were both asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms. I have known Az all of my life and I had never seen him look so content. Every worry, every doubt, every trouble he has seemed to evaporate when he was in your arms.”

“That still doesn’t prove that he loves me, Cass,” Y/N said. “Now, can we please not talk about this anymore. I don’t have the energy.”

Cassian studied her for a brief moment. “Why did you rush out the other day?”

“I told you, I was going on a–”

“A walk, yes, but why did you rush out? You were clearly upset and you had clearly just come from Az’s room.” Cassian commented.

Y/N sighed. “It doesn’t matter. I just asked him if he wanted to come to the bakery that had just opened in the city but he was already going with Elain.”

“And you were jealous?” Cassian asked.

“It’s not that simple,” Y/N said and fiddled with a loose thread on the blanket. “It seems that since I have moved out, I have barely seen Az. I didn’t even move far away, it's about a fifteen minute walk, even faster by flying. Everyone but him seems to make the effort and whenever I make an effort, he is always busy with Elain.” Y/N sat up in her bed, now fully facing Cassian. “Sometimes I think he is purposefully avoiding me to spend more time with Elain. And I–” 

Y/N cut herself off. She had never voiced these thoughts aloud, they had just been swirling around her head for ages.

“And you what, Y/N?” Cassian asked gently. 

“I just miss him, I miss the way things were, I wish I never fell in love with him.” Y/N could feel the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. “Falling in love with him had to be the stupidest thing I could have done–”

“Don’t say that,” Cassian interrupted. “Don’t ever say that. Azriel deserves all of the love you have given him, and you deserve all of the love he has ever given you.”

“Cassian, Azriel does not love me!” Y/N exclaimed. “If he loved me, why didn’t the damn bond snap for him too!”

Everything was still and silent as Cassian took in the words of the revelation. Y/N felt a small amount of weight lift from her shoulders but it wasn’t enough for her to get out of her bed. 

“You and Az are mates,” Cassian said slowly, processing everything. 

“The day I ran into you was the day it snapped,” Y/N said, hugging her knees to her chest. “Why now? In the many years we have known each other, why did it snap now?”

Cassian shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you. It’s possible that neither of you were ready.”

“I’m not ready now!” Y/N exclaimed. “Az and I barely see each other. He doesn’t have the time for me anymore.”

Cassian gently grasped Y/N’s clasped hands. “Y/N, listen to me when I say that you don’t have anything to worry about. Azriel loves you so much, it is so obvious to everyone around except you. He is in love with you.”

“You can’t be sure, Cass,” Y/N said. “I don’t want to tell him and fuck up out entire relationship.”

“Y/N, tell him,” Cassian said, squeezing her hands. “He deserves to know that he has a mate and he deserves to know that you love him.”

“You are sure that he loves me back?” Y/N asked, her voice quiet.

“I have never been so sure of anything else,” Cassian replied. “And it's Solstice in a few days, you could tell him then.”

“How do I tell him?” Y/N asked. “I don’t even know where I would begin.”

“That is the part I cannot help you with,” Cassian replied. “But whatever you do, I am sure that Azriel will love it. He loves anything you do.”

***

Y/N let out a breath as she walked through the halls to the living room. Her heart was beating out of her chest. She had asked Rhys where Azriel was and he had told her without question. The small box was clutched in her hands. Her plan was to give Azriel his Solstice present early and to tell him that she loved him and that they were mates. It was quite a simple plan but Y/N had to motivate herself to leave her house. She was rippled with nerves. 

“Just breathe,” she whispered to herself as she closed in on the living room. 

From down the hallway, Y/N could hear the mutter of a familiar voice and she smiled. It was Azriel’s voice. I can do this, she thought. 

As Y/N turned into the living room, her heart sank to the floor and the smile vanished from her face. Azriel and Elain stood in the centre of the room in an embrace and their lips only centimetres from one another. Azriel’s fingers were tangled in her hair as his hand rested on the back of her head and his arm was wrapped around her waist. Elain’s hands were placed on Azriel’s chest as her head was tilted up, waiting for their lips to connect.

Neither of them noticed Y/N, too focussed on one another. Tears immediately sprung to Y/N’s eyes. Azriel didn’t love her. If their passionate embrace connoted anything it was that Azriel’s infatuation resided with Elain. 

Y/N left the room before either of the two noticed, and she let the tears fall. Azriel wasn’t in love with her. Azriel was in love with Elain. 

Cassian was wrong. 

***

It was the morning of Solstice and Y/N stood in Rhys’s office waiting for him to enter. After she had left Azriel and Elain the previous night, Y/N had cried herself to sleep. If only she had never fallen for Azriel. If only she wasn’t his mate. Maybe then everything would be okay, she would happily tease Azriel about his infatuations with the middle Archeron sister and she wouldn’t be in this position now. 

But that wasn’t the case. Her mate was in love with another. Y/N should have seen the signs. Azriel had spent nearly all of his free time with Elain, the two had gotten so many chances to fall in love since they had began to spend time together. 

Rhys entered his office and sent Y/N a smile. “Why did you want a meeting this early, Y/N? It’s Solstice morning, you should be getting ready for tonight.”

“Send me on a mission,” Y/N stated. “Make sure that it is a long one.”

The smile fell from Rhys’s face. “Why?”

“I just need to get away for a while,” Y/N answered. 

As she lay in her bed deep into the night, Y/N just knew that she needed to get away from Azriel for a while. Just seeing him knowing that he was in love with someone else hurt her like nothing else. The bond only seemed to heighten the pain. Y/N wasn’t sure how Lucien was coping.

“Where is this coming from, Y/N?” Rhys asked. “You are normally the one most excited about Solstice.”

“This year I am not,” Y/N replied, her response blunt. 

Concern clouded over Rhys’s eyes. “Are you okay, Y/N? If there is anything you need to talk about you can–”

“I am fine, Rhys,” Y/N said, forcing a smile onto her face. “I just need to get away, preferably by tonight.”

Rhys studied her for a moment longer before finally nodding, knowing how stubborn Y/N could be. “Give me a few hours and I will have something sorted for you.”

“Thank you, Rhys,” Y/N replied. 

Without another word, Y/N left Rhys’s office. She thought that this space from Azriel would lift some of that weight from her shoulders, if anything the weight got heavier. 

***

Music was playing and laughter filled the room as gifts were handed out to each person. Azriel remained by the doorway, far away from everyone else– especially Elain. He was not sure what came over him the previous night but he was sure that he never wanted anything like that to happen again. Even as Elain sent him looks, Azriel only ignored them. 

“Where’s Y/N?” Feyre asked no one in particular as she piled presents up. “She has a lot of presents to open.”

Rhys’s joy suddenly vanished and Azriel stiffened. “About Y/N,” Rhys began, “she will not be joining us tonight.”

��Why?” The question left Azriel’s mouth before he could stop it.

“This morning she asked me to send her on a mission,” Rhys said. “I don’t know why but she was adamant.”

“For how long?” Cassian asked. 

“Three months,” Rhys answered.

“Three months!” Cassian exclaimed. “Why?”

Rhys shrugged. “She didn’t tell me.”

Azriel’s shadows swarmed around his shoulders anxiously. Y/N was gone and she hadn’t even told him where she was going– or why she was going. 

Cassian suddenly turned on Azriel. “Why would you let her leave? She told you everything and you let her leave after that.”

“Told me what?” Azriel questioned. 

Cassian’s face dropped. “She didn’t tell you?”

“Told me what, Cassian?” Azriel asked, his voice dropping lower.

“Look, Az, this isn’t my place to–”

“What was she going to tell me, Cassian?” Azriel snapped.

“That she is your mate, Az!” Cassian exclaimed. “She told me her plan and said that she was going to do it last night. She really didn’t tell you?”

“She’s my mate?” Azriel whispered, mainly to himself. 

The room was silent as everyone awaited Azriel’s reaction. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Mate, Azriel thought. Y/N is my mate. The shadows previously moving anxiously around Azriel came to a sudden halt as he pushed himself from the doorway. 

“Why did she tell you and not me?” Azriel said, trying to keep his voice level.

“That is not my place to say,” said Cassian. “You will need to talk to Y/N.”

Azriel felt everyone’s gaze fall upon him. He didn’t even register them. All he could think about was Y/N. She was his mate. How long had she known? Why didn’t she tell him? Why did she want to go on a mission? 

“Where is she?” Azriel asked, his gaze falling on Rhys. “You said you sent her on a mission. Where is she?”

“The mission was on the continent,” Rhys answered and glanced at the clock. “She asked to be gone by tonight but it wasn’t possible considering the short notice. She might still be at her house if she hasn’t left early.”

Without another word, Azriel raced out of the house, the calls and protests from his family quickly growing silent as soon as he was in the open air and shot to the skies. Azriel was sure he had never flown as fast as he had. Within a matter of minutes, he was outside of Y/N’s house. 

He remembered when she had first told everyone she was moving, Azriel had been delighted. But the longer he thought about it, the more distraught he became. Nearly every single night, he would fall asleep listening to Y/N’s heartbeat, even if she was in another room, he would hear it and it would soothe him. During those nights, he had noticed that he didn’t have any nightmares. In fact, all he dreamt of was Y/N. 

The lights in Y/N’s house were off and Azriel’s heart sank. If she had already left then he would return and demand Rhys to tell him exactly where she was going. The surrounding area was quiet, even the wind seemed silent. Azriel closed his eyes and hearted a quiet and familiar heartbeat. Y/N’s heartbeat. 

Before he even began to think, Azriel was frantically knocking on her door. “Y/N! Please let me in!”

There was a quiet shuffle from inside the house but not any movement of the door Azriel was frantically knocking on. “Y/N, please let me in, sweetheart.”

The term of endearment slipped from his lips before he could stop it but Azriel didn’t care. All he wanted was to talk to Y/N. Talk to his mate.

“Please,” Azriel whispered desperately. “I need to talk to you, Y/N.”

“Please leave, Azriel,” Y/N’s voice came through the door. “I need to leave soon.”

“No you don’t,” Azriel said. “Please don’t.”

“I am,” Y/N said, and the door was ripped open.

There was a small pain in Azriel’s heart as he looked at Y/N. There were dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep and they appeared to be bloodshot. Azriel wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and tell her that everything was okay. But from the look on Y/N’s face, she decided against that. 

“Please leave Az,” Y/N whispered. 

“No,” Azriel said, forcing himself into her house. “I’m not leaving until I talk to you.”

“I need to get going–”

“When were you going to tell me that I was your mate?” Azriel asked. Y/N stilled and Azriel noticed that she refused to look him in the eye.  He stepped closer. “How long have you known?”

Y/N took in a sharp intake of breath before lifting her gaze to meet Azriel’s. “I found out a few days ago. The day I came to you asking if you wanted to go to the bakery with me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Azriel asked softly.

Y/N scoffed. “I tried! Last night.”

Azriel furrowed his eyebrows. “You never came to me last night.”

“I did. I had this whole plan but I showed up and you were with Elain again!” Y/N exclaimed.

“Of course I was with her!” Azriel said. “Rhys asked me to look out for her and make sure she was okay. I’m only doing what he asks.”

Y/N hummed. “Did he ask you to ignore me in the process? Did he ask you to seduce her? Kiss her?”

Azriel’s eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “You know exactly what I mean, Azriel. Last night, I walked in on you and Elain.”

His heart seemed to drop to his feet. “You saw us?”

“Yes I did,” Y/N said, taking a step back but Azriel didn’t let her as he took a step forward. “Please just leave me alone, Az.”

“No,” Azriel said. “You are my mate.”

“And?” Y/N said. “It doesn’t matter when you clearly have your sights set on someone else.”

“Don’t say that Y/N!” Azriel snapped.

“Why? It’s true. You spend all of your time with Elain to the point where I never see you.”

Azriel groaned. “I told you, I was doing as Rhys asked.”

Y/N shook her head. “Azriel, for so many months, you have ignored me in favour of her. Every time I ask if you want to do something, you are always busy because you are with Elain. I haven’t even had a full conversation with you in weeks.” Y/N let out a shaky breath. “I don’t want to admit that I am jealous, but I am.”

“Y/N, please, I don’t like Elain like that,” Azriel said desperately.

“Az, please leave. I need to get going,” Y/N said, trying to push past him. 

Something overcame Azriel and he wasn’t sure exactly what it was. One second he was standing with his arms by his side and the next his lips were pressed against Y/N’s as her back hit the wall behind her. 

Azriel pressed his body against hers as his arms trapped her against the wall. As soon as their lips connected, Azriel felt the bond. The overwhelming feeling caused him to only kiss Y/N harder. It was almost instinct the way his arms wrapped around her body to keep her close to him. He never wanted her to be anywhere else except in his arms. It had been months since he had felt the curves of her body, although this time in a much more intimate setting. He had missed the feeling of her skin on his. He missed the feeling of holding her. He missed everything about her. 

Y/N’s hands came to rest on his chest and Azriel melted further into the kiss, his arms wrapping around her waist tighter. It wasn’t until Y/N used all of her strength to push him away and his mouth was torn from hers. As Azriel opened his eyes, he wished he didn’t. Betrayal was lingering behind the colour he loved so much. 

“Why did you do that?” Y/N whispered, clearly hurt.

“Because it's you who I want, Y/N. Not Elain,” Azriel said, his hand trailing up her body to rest on her cheek. 

Y/N shook her head. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Lie to my face, Azriel,” Y/N said. “You can’t just quickly switch where your affections lie.”

“They lie with you–”

“Oh, please stop!” Y/N exclaimed, pushing Azriel further away from her. “I saw how close you and Elain were last night. I know that Rhys asked you to look after her but did that really need to entail pushing me away. If you really wanted to court Elain, Azriel. I would have helped, no matter how painful it would have been for me. There was no reason for you to push me away.”

“I already told you that I don’t want Elain. I only want you,” Azriel said, growing more and more desperate. 

Y/N scoffed. “Only because of the stupid mating bond.”

“It’s not stupid–”

“Yes it is! If it wasn’t stupid, why didn’t it snap when I fell in love with you years ago!”

Azriel stilled at Y/N’s confession. Y/N loved him. She loved him. Those words Azriel was too afraid to say himself, Y/N had said to him. His mind screamed at him to respond but as soon as the words reached his mouth he couldn’t get them out. 

“You say that you hold no affection for Elain but your actions speak differently, Azriel,” Y/N said, stepping past him. 

“Y/N, please listen to me,” Azriel said, reaching out to grip her hand. 

Her fingers seemed to curl around his before she seemed to think better of it and pulled away. 

“Tell Cassian to come and lock my door assuming he still has the keys,” Y/N said before she left through the front door. 

“Y/N,” Azriel said, desperation evident in his voice as he followed her to her front garden. 

But Y/N was nowhere to be seen, she was gone, taking Azriel’s heart with her in the process.

***

It had been days since Y/N had left and Azriel hadn’t left her house. Each night he would curl up in her bed missing the scent of her. Even though the bed was too small to accommodate for his wings, it didn’t force Azriel to move. Rhys had tried to contact him multiple times but Azriel had ignored him as he buried his head further into Y/N’s pillows. 

There was a pain in his chest that had never been there before, it was as if he could feel all of the pain and betrayal Y/N felt and Azriel thought he deserved it. He deserved every bit of it. He should have explained better, he should have sat Y/N down and explained everything he was feeling in detail. 

Azriel pulled the covers further over his body, inhaling her scent. It was fading in favour of his own and Azriel hated that. As he closed his eyes, loud knocks sounded throughout the house. Azriel groaned. 

“Azriel,” Elain’s voice shouted through the door. “I know you are there.”

If Azriel didn’t want the ground to swallow him up before, he wanted it to now. He had no intention of speaking to Elain again– at least for a while. That night of their almost kiss was a mistake. 

“Azriel!” Elain shouted, her voice seemingly more irritated. 

With a groan, Azriel lifted himself from Y/N’s bed and he immediately missed the comfort it brought him. He dragged his feet out of the room and down the stairs until he stood in front of the door. Through the frosted glass panes he could see Elain standing there, her arms folded across her chest. 

Azriel’s hand shook as he reached out and opened the door. He revealed Elain’s face and there was an emotion upon it which he had never seen before. It reminded him of Y/N’s expression when she had pushed him away after he had kissed her.

“What are you doing here, Elain?” Azriel asked, his voice hoarse from not talking for days.

“What are you doing here, Azriel?” Elain questioned, forcing her way into Y/N’s house. “No one has seen you in days.”

“I’ve been here,” Azriel replied. 

“So it seems,” Elain said, surveying the living room. “But why are you still here? Y/N left days ago.”

Azriel remained silent as Elain inspected the flowers sitting in the middle of Y/N’s coffee table. He wanted her to leave. He didn’t want to be anywhere near her. 

“I know,” Azriel responded. 

Elain sat down on the sofa and finally met Azriel’s gaze. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

“What?” Azriel said, wanting nothing more than to bury himself underneath Y/N’s many blankets and wish the day away. 

“Ever since that night, you haven’t even looked me in the eye. Why?” Elain’s eyes filled with tears but Azriel could tell she was trying to fight them back. It only made him feel guiltier. 

Azriel’s mouth opened and closed, trying to search for an answer. But every single answer he thought of would only hurt her feelings. “Please leave, Elain. It will be better for both of us.”

Elain shook her head. “I’m not leaving until I get an answer, Azriel. Why did you pull away from me? Did all of those dates mean nothing to you?”

“They weren’t dates,” Azriel found himself saying. 

Elain looked as if she had been struck. “But you have taken me to dinner, on walks in the park, to that bakery that just opened.”

“They weren’t dates,” Azriel said, only feeling guiltier. 

Elain frowned. “Then what were they, Azriel? Because you have been very invested in my life since I have arrived here.”

“I was tasked by Rhys to keep an eye on you,” Azriel admitted, ripping the bandage away.

“What?” Elain asked, her voice quiet. “So all of those days were you just pretending to like me?”

“No,” Azriel said, running his fingers through his hair. “No, it wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it, Azriel?” Elain questioned, an edge to her voice. 

“I tried, okay? I really tried to like you, I really did,” Azriel said, admitting to the middle Archeron sister what he never thought he would. “That's why I agreed to go on all of those outings with you. I could never think of you more than a friend.”

“You were trying to force yourself to fall in love with me?” Elain asked. Azriel broke eye contact and looked to the floor, he didn’t want to see her hurt expression any longer. “Why?” She followed up.

“If I forced myself to love you, then maybe I wouldn’t still love–”

Azriel couldn’t say it. He had never said it out loud before. If he said it then it would become too real and there would be no turning back. 

Elain studied his expression, rising from the sofa. “Y/N. You are in love with Y/N.” Azriel’s silence was just as good of an answer spoken for Elain. “Why would you use me like that, Azriel? Unlike you, I actually began to feel something for you. I thought you returned those feelings.”

Something wet fell down Azriel’s cheek. He hadn’t even realised he had been crying. “I am sorry, Elain. I am so sorry.”

“Can you at least tell me why? You owe me that much.”

“I fell in love with Y/N a long time ago, long before you were even born,” Azriel began. “We were friends at first, but it wasn’t long before I fell in love. She is so perfect in every single way. Her intelligence, her kindness, her strength, her beauty. Everything.” Elain nodded although Azriel could see the sadness in her expression. He continued nevertheless. “I never thought that she would love me back. I never thought that she would return my feelings so I repressed them.”

“How did you manage that?” Elain asked, quietly.

“It was difficult. I have killed, tortured many for information and sometimes that takes its toll. But hiding my love for Y/N had to be the most difficult thing I have ever done. It wasn’t until you showed up and took an interest in me where I tried to fall for you instead.” Azriel picked at a loose thread on the shirt he wore. “I thought it was a perfect plan. You are kind, beautiful and understanding. I thought it would be easy for me. And when Rhys tasked me with looking after you, I thought it would be even easier. But whenever I was with you, all I could think about was Y/N. And when I nearly kissed you–”

“All you could think about was Y/N,” Elain finished. 

Azriel nodded. “When I opened my eyes and saw you, I panicked and left without any explanation. From the bottom of my heart, I am so sorry, Elain.”

“I don’t forgive you, Azriel. You used me because you loved someone else and were simply trying to distract yourself.” Elain said and there was a long pause before she began to speak again. “But I cannot blame you. Loving someone can be hard and difficult and can make you do stupid things. And Y/N is perfect and I don’t like that you made me out to be some kind of villain in her eyes.”

Azriel opened his mouth to speak but Elain cut him off.

“Please don’t apologise again, Azriel,” Elain said. “It would have never worked out between us. I never want to be someone’s second choice and that was all I was to you.” Elain began to walk over to the front door. “It will take me a while to forgive you, Azriel. But listen to me when I say this. Tell Y/N the truth, tell her everything.”

“I’ve already fucked up whatever friendship we had, I don’t want to make it worse,” Azriel whispered.

“You are her mate and her best friend, the one who knows her better than anyone, do you truly believe that your whole friendship is gone because of one stupid decision you made?” Elain paused as she stood on the threshold. “I hope you find your happiness, Azriel. I am going to find mine and I will not be a back up choice for a male who is too afraid to admit their feelings.”

“I hope you find it, Elain,” Azriel said. “And I hope you can forgive me someday.”

With a simple nod of her head, Elain left the house, closing the door behind her. Azriel was left alone once again. 

***

It had been a month since Y/N was last in Velaris. She thought that the trip would be good for her to get her mind off of Azriel but she wasn’t needed as much as she thought she would. For the month she had been on the continent, Y/N was sure that she had only done a few hours of work, the rest of her time she spent in her room she had been so graciously allocated. 

And in those lonely hours all she could think of was Azriel. His had been the last face she had seen before she winnowed away and it was ingrained into her brain. The hurt expression on his face, the desperation that lingered beneath it. Y/N turned over in the bed. It was comfortable but it was nothing like the one at her house. She missed being in Velaris and she missed her family– and that included Azriel. 

“Y/N,” a guard rushed into her room. “A letter has come for you.”

Y/N pushed herself up from the bed and took the letter from the guard's hand. “Thank you,” she muttered. 

As soon as Y/N looked down at her name in the familiar writing, she felt her heart rate increase. Tearing into the envelope, Y/N pulled the letter from its confines. Rhys’s writing was a welcome sight of home but his words were not. 

The words she read about how Azriel was faring after her departure sent shocks to her heart. She knew it was stupid for her to feel sorry for him, after all he had brought everything upon himself, but she couldn’t help it. She was in love with him and that would never change. 

The moment Y/N finished the letter, she picked up her travel bag, she hadn’t even unpacked anything, and exited the bedroom, wanting nothing more than to go home. 

***

As Y/N appeared in front of her house, she could immediately feel the air shift. Even though it was her own house, she was reluctant to enter. Everything suddenly felt too real. 

Finally Y/N pushed open her door and found Rhys and Cassian inside while Azriel sat on her couch, his wings slumped behind him. Y/N’s heart immediately fell at the sight of the shadowsinger. The bags under his eyes were prominent and he had clearly lost weight. Y/N had never seen him in such a state. 

Rhys’s gaze met Y/N’s. “Cassian and I will wait outside.”

Y/N didn’t respond as he gaze shifted back to Azriel who continued to look down at the coffee table, fixated on the dead flowers. As soon as Rhys and Cassian had stepped outside, Y/N slowly shuffled closer to Azriel and sat on the couch next to him. The bond connecting their souls seemed to hum happily as they were finally reunited. 

“Azriel?” Y/N broke the silence. 

“I am so sorry Y/N.” Azriel’s voice was hoarse and quiet. “About Elain. About ignoring you. About kissing you. About everything.”

When Azriel lifted his gaze, Y/N could see the sadness within them and she could feel it in her chest.

“Why?” It was all Y/N could say. 

Azriel sighed. “When you told me you loved me, I was shocked because I thought that someone so kind, so smart, so beautiful, so…perfect, would never love me back.”

Y/N stilled. “You love me?”

Azriel nodded. “Y/N, I have loved you for centuries. I was afraid that if you ever found out, it would ruin our whole friendship. And if I lost you, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. You…complete me. I feel like I can always be myself around you. Before I met you I always felt like there was something missing in my life and when you stumbled into it, it was as if everything fell into place.”

“But everything with Elain? You say you love me but you have been surrounding yourself with her for nearly a year.” Y/N said. 

“I never felt anything but friendship for Elain,” Azriel admitted. “But I tried to like her romantically. I tried to force myself to fall in love with her.”

“Why would you do that, Azriel?” Y/N questioned.

“Because I never thought that you would love me back,” Azriel said. “If I fell in love with Elain then maybe I could forget all about my feelings for you, maybe they would disappear. But the more time I spent with Elain, the more I realised that I would never be able to fall for her because I was so utterly in love with you that I thought about you every minute I was with her. I thought about you that night before Solstice. When I opened my eyes and saw her instead of you, I panicked. I wanted it to be you.”

Y/N frowned, taking in Azriel’s words. “But what of Elain? Why would you mess with her feelings like that?”

Azriel’s shoulders seemed to slump. “A few days after you left, Elain came to me and demanded to know everything that was going on. It is safe to say that she is not happy with me.”

“Good,” Y/N said. “Because I am not entirely happy with you, Azriel. Why didn’t you just speak to me? Why didn’t you tell me you loved me? You just assumed that I didn’t return your feelings.”

“I couldn’t know for sure,” Azriel said. “I know it was stupid of me–”

“It was,” Y/N said. “In the three centuries I have known you, this is the stupidest thing you have done. We have always been open with one another.”

“I know. I regret everything I did. I regret using Elain to try and get over my feelings. I regret pushing you away in favour of her. I just never thought you could possibly like me back?”

“Why?”

“Because you are perfect!” Azriel exclaimed. “You are everything I am not. You are everything good in the world. You are a goddess in my eyes.” Azriel tore his eyes away from Y/N and focussed on his hand folded in his lap. “I am damaged.”

“Don’t say that,” Y/N said, moving to sit on the coffee table in front of him. “Don’t ever say that Azriel.”

“But it’s true,” Azriel said. “I have so much blood on my hands, Y/N.”

Y/N slowly reached forward and took Azriel’s hands in hers. He tried to pull them away but she held on tight. “Azriel, I have blood on my hands too. I am not perfect at all. Neither of us are, evident by the way we both handled our emotions.”

The shadowsingers gaze was no longer fixated on his hands as he slowly met Y/N’s gaze once more. “I am not going to easily forgive you, Azriel. You messed with Elain’s emotions and you made me feel unimportant as you pushed me away.”

Azriel’s shoulders deflated. 

“But,” Y/N continued. “That does not mean that I don’t still love you. My mate.”

All the weight on Azriel’s shoulders appeared to be lifted and his eyes seemed to clear. “Say that again…” he whispered.

Y/N leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his. “My mate.”

Azriel exhaled slowly and pulled Y/N’s body closer to his until he could circle her waist with his arms. “I am so sorry, Y/N. For everything.”

“I know you are,” Y/N said, threading her fingers through his hair. 

“I love you, Y/N,” Azriel mumbled into her shoulder. “Will you ever be able to forgive me?”

Y/N pulled away and rested her forehead on his. His eyes were closed but slowly opened as Y/N gently caressed his face. “You might have hurt me, Azriel, but I will forgive you. I know you well enough to know how you sometimes process things and act upon things.” Y/N pressed a tender kiss to his forehead. “And sometime in the near future, I will be ready to accept the bond.”

Azriel’s eyes lit up. “You will accept the bond?”

“Of course I will,” Y/N replied. “I am in love with you Azriel. No matter how much you convinced yourself that I never could, I do love you. I wouldn’t want anyone else as my mate. But first, I want us to get back to where we were before. Before I accept the bond, I just want my best friend back.”

“I love you so much,” Azriel breathed out. 

And when he placed his lips upon hers, Y/N welcomed them.