#she also said that people only have the power we give them and I was like ‘okay cliche’ but like

[concenecxere]

this is so beautifully put. i mean gorgeous. i am not caught up so i am effectively spoiling myself but funnily enough i actually tried to talk to my mother about this while watching s1 bc at the same time i'd been reading a chapter of this book about compulsory sexuality (refusing compulsory sexuality: a black asexual lens on our sex-obsessed culture by sherronda j brown) which really encouraged this exploration for me. like so much of what stood out to me was the direct comparison of innie marks interrogation of his own creation being spurred on whilst dealing with integrating helly into the severed floor (and the loss of petey) vs his sister on the outside having her first child. helly r is almost a petulant child to him at first, an inconvenience to the order of things although necessary for their workplace function at lumon (like ops gf said, just like helena mark as her boss almost resents the freedom with which helly is defiant), until of course he really reconciles the severity and the lengths she goes to and turns inward and wonders why he never stopped to question it all himself. so we see these motivations for reproduction in direct contrast -- in the story of mark the final goal of his reproduction is productivity (by separating himself from his trauma), versus devon and rickan taking an approach to reproduction "more virtuously" by comparison (like excited for the journey of raising a unique human being). now this is the point where i realized i was talking to my mother and didnt really have my thoughts wrapped around it and wanted to begin that type of conversation with more nuance and the conversation naturally returned back to the show.

but! back to the book by sherronda j brown -- it has a whole chapter on productivity, partially tackling how capitalism incorporates productivity into nuclear family making which kind of effectively pulls the magic out of the point of a family. a child is not something that you can utilize/form for some present/later convenience, they're a human being with their own unique ambitions and the beauty of parenthood is often watching them discover that etc etc. but capitalism looks to control family making as it is a method of economic stimulation. again this requires a lot of nuance, because since we are so embedded in capitalism in some ways you have no choice but to be implicit even if you are aware, and you can be doing this wether you realize it or not. i also want to be sure i acknowledge that i am by no means an expert on this i just felt emboldened to get into it here. alongside those examples given by the amazing prev posts/tags this is illustrated in real life by how so many people are realizing using children as a contingency plan for who'll take care of you when you age or like expecting grandchildren from your own children. like its absolutely not a bad thing to want these things but assuming no matter how you treat your children that its their responsibility to fulfill that for you is bull -- and objectively to expect this is not even always guaranteed biologically for several reasons but i digress. a child is their own person worthy of respect and if you don't give it to them they don't/shouldn't owe you present or future compliance (again theres nuance, even in severance given the outies varying levels of awareness of/care about their innies treatment) but capitalism is a part of perpetuating this. as so many now realize if you are surrounded by real true community confirmed elder care and the opportunity to be a grandparent-like mentor is/should be available without nuclear family to fulfill it. the power of found family and all that beautiful stuff! particularly when imagined with a queer lens. but capitalism has taught us intentionally that all of this should come from the heteronormative nuclear family and is only valid when derived from a heteronormative nuclear family in order to isolate us from one another and sell us these opportunities in other ways for their own gain. anyways i've danced all around it myself but brown says the following far more concisely in their amazing book (which i look forward to finishing).

"anxiety about the sex recession among young people is also anxiety about an accompanying decrease in marriage, nuclear family making, and home ownership. all of these things are intimately related and impact our economy, especially because they are so easily capitalized on. those invested in the capitalist system work to convince us that these are necessary parts of life and that participation in them makes us more mature adults and 'productive' members of society... therefore, cisheterosexual sex itself becomes a means of productivity because it is understood to ultimately lead to marriage, procreation, and nuclear families, all of which are integral to patriarchal and white supremactist capitalist systems."

its so remarkably layered i would love to pick the brains of the writers about it all!! lumon offering severance and the creation of an innie as this amazing way to free themselves from the monotony of a job or like the weight of the outside world on their work. but of course this job is necessitated by the capitalist society they exist within and the thing that drives them all to severance is what capitalism forces them to believe they have wrong with themselves or have to achieve to be successful. so then when they create their innie, or "have their child" as it were, and the child demands more love than you ever thought you were allowed the capitalism worm in your brain has already prepped you to place the blame on the child and not realize the system is what has it all wrong. and even if you do understand the systems driven you to this point the cost that you've paid for being compliant all this time is this life you now get to watch your child live.

my gf said something sooo insane about helly the other day and i cannot stop thinking about it. she was like. helena and helly’s relationship is almost maternal. the way helena created helly as an extension of herself, to serve her interests, to try and impress her own family. she scolds helly, talks down to her like a child. “i understand you’re unhappy with the life you’ve been given” “i am a person, you are not”. the way she envies and resents helly’s freedom. the way she feels entitled to helly’s life and is now living vicariously through her in the most literal sense. what if you created life and now they’re experiencing the things you’ve always wanted for yourself. what if you created life and they were flawed and loud and demanding and they were loved more than you’ve ever been. and you hated them for it. the mother/daughterisms are insane my girlfriend is insane

[itspileofgoodthings]

the most helpful thing my counselor says to me is “why” when i say something bothers me aksjjejeejnejejejejejejejejejejejejejj

[selfcarecap]

✧ Manipulative best friend!Logan with a corruption kink

warnings: smut 18+, this is not a dark fic, Logan isn’t truly manipulative but we have a very naive/innocent/inexperienced reader; first time masturbation, JOI, handjob, fingering (in front of a mirror), first kiss, pet names (bub, baby, my girl, good girl), Logan doesn’t always fully ask for consent but if he did reader would want it, so those are the type of vibes, Logan takes advantage of the situation but reader is into him too, it’s implied that reader is a mutant too but powers are not specified, mentions of alcohol, reader wears Logan’s (big) shirt, Logan is a bit gross 

This kind of got out of hand lmaoo it was just supposed to just be a short concept but I ended up writing 5.5k words lolll. It’s not a fully fleshed out fic (it’s in full sentences etc but still just kind of loosely written scenes) but I thought I’d still share <33 (gorgeous divider by @anitalenia <3)

Logan knows he wants you from the moment he meets you. He knows he needs you the second you come to the mansion and join the school. But you’re so shy and nervous that he doesn’t want to overwhelm you, so he tells himself he’ll wait for a bit and let you get used to your new life here first. 

What he isn’t expecting is that you become really good friends in the meantime. Yes, he still wants to fuck you but he also genuinely enjoys your company and cares about you. Logan has a big, fat crush on you and there’s not really anything he won’t do in order to be closer to you.

But the problem is that you’re so innocent and he can’t tell if it’s an act, if you just don’t like talking about sex in front of other people, or if you’re really like this. 

He hears you talking to Storm and Jean one night and Storm is trying to convince you to get a vibrator and you’re asking “what would I need that for? I don’t… y’know”. Storm says “you don’t what? Masturbate?”.

Logan knows exactly what shy expression you’re making even though he can’t see you, and you’re all like “oh my god, don’t say it that loud”. And he knows your pretty face must be getting all hot with embarrassment and the thought alone turns Logan on to no end. It’s quiet for a bit and Logan gathers that Jean reads your mind, and she confirms to Storm that you’re not lying.  

Logan can only hear the conversation because he’s in the kitchen and you’re all in the room next to it, but some students come in so he can’t keep eavesdropping, as much as he wants to. And he knows there’s no way you’re continuing the conversation if he’s in the room, so he has to give up for the night. He tries to ask Storm the next day about what you said and she just calls him a pervert and says to ask you himself if he wants to know so badly. 

But that’s kind of the thing. He’s become your best friend over the last few months, but there are still some things you’d never tell him just because he’s a guy, even if you don’t see him as more than a friend. Yet.

And Logan only gets more desperate when you’re drunk one evening after a girl’s night and you’re knocking at his door. It’s really late but Logan lets you in of course. You’re crying a bit and he makes you sit in his bed and takes off your shoes and slides off your jacket while you hiccup something unintelligible. 

He sits down with you and you can barely focus on what you’re saying, and then you get up mumbling about your uncomfortable tights and your skirt and suddenly you’re in front of him in just a top and panties. Logan has to gulp down a moan as he stares at the flesh of your thighs and the rolls on your belly and all he can think about is devouring you whole – until he hears you mention the conversation with Storm and Jean from the other day, “wait, what was that?”

You pout, “Well I was talking to them and turns out apparently I’m the only woman in the world that doesn’t masturbate and– and Jean went home to Scott, and Storm went home with someone she met at the bar and I’ve never even done anything with a guy, not even with myself. I just feel left behind.”

And Logan tells you something about how you’re just a late bloomer and there’s still time, because that’s what he thinks you want to hear, but you tell him it’s condescending. You don’t want to be a late bloomer, you just want to have sex. And oh– Logan can help you with that.

He has to do his absolute best to keep calm and not mount you immediately, but you’re drunk so that’s what’s stopping him. He might manipulate you a little to get what he wants but he’s not that bad. He asks “you don’t like touching yourself?” And you just shrug and say “dunno”. 

“You never feel an ache between your legs?” Logan asks, keeping so calm it’s painful. And he can practically feel the heat melting off your face at the question as your eyes dart around the room, “I don’t know, sometimes”.

 “And you don’t touch yourself?”

You shrug again, looking everywhere but at Logan, “I never really know what people mean when they say that. I, like, touch myself and it feels nice but that’s it.” 

Logan smiles, “how long do you touch yourself for?” 

“I don’t know, a few seconds.”

And he chuckles and says “it’s normal that you don’t get anywhere in a few seconds, bub.” 

“Oh. I didn’t know that,” you manage to meet his eyes briefly but look away again as you sit on your hands shyly.

“You ever watched porn?” Logan asks and your eyes go wide as if he’s just committed the worst sin known to womankind in front of you and you hug your legs and say “noo, I would never. I’m not, like, a pervert.”

Logan laughs, “Porn isn’t just for perverts. There’s more to it than choking and bondage, there’s tame stuff.” You just say “well I’ve never watched any.” 

“Maybe you should.”

“Maybe, I don’t know.” 

He can tell you’re getting a bit ashamed and while he would love to train that shame out of you when it comes to sex, now isn’t the time when you’re drunk in his bed at 2AM. 

“You wanna go to sleep?” He asks, failing to resist giving a small squeeze to your knee. Your eyes fly to his hand there, gaze lingering on his fingers even as he pulls them away. You nod after a few moments, and Logan reaches out to wipe away the remnants of your tears and says “you wanna sleep in my bed? We could cuddle”. 

You grin like a child who’s just tried ice cream for the first time at his suggestion and he gives you a bigger shirt of his so you don’t have to sleep in that small, tight top you’re wearing. You pull off your top without warning and then he’s looking at you in just your underwear and he feels like he’s died and ascended to heaven even though he’s probably more likely to go to hell with the thoughts he’s having about you right now. 

You cast a shy glance over your shoulder as you undo your bra and Logan wills himself to shut his eyes, putting his hand over them because he knows otherwise he’d look.

He only wants to fuck you more when he sees you in his shirt though, and he’ll definitely have to go to the bathroom to jerk off once you’ve fallen asleep. Except that you snuggle against his side so cutely, head resting on his shoulder with a leg thrown over his. 

You’re fast asleep before he can even say good night and when he moves to get up you move closer, and now he’s got your plush tits pressed up against his side and your arm over his waist. A tent has formed in his pants and he feels pathetic that he’s measuring the distance between your elbow and his crotch, silently willing you to move just a few inches. 

He’s so horny that he’d feel no moral qualms at jerking off right next to you. He’d cum so quickly with you pressed to his side, but he wouldn’t know how to explain it if you woke up. He doesn’t want to scare you away. So he pulls away to get up, and you wake up and whine when he stands up, telling you he just has to pee to which you grumble, and you grab his pillow to cuddle with instead. 

He jerks off shamelessly, sitting on the edge of the bathtub. His spit slicked-palm is starting to get loud as he strokes his cock to thoughts of you, but he doesn’t care if you hear. You probably wouldn’t know what he’s doing anyway with how innocent you are. 

He doesn’t even have to fantasise about any sexual scenario with you. Thinking about the pretty smile you have whenever you look at him is enough to have his fists drenched in his cum as he jerks himself off with both hands to stroke his entire length. 

He can’t hold back the small moan that spills over his lips when he cums, torn between hoping you heard and hoping you didn’t. Logan washes his hands and rejoins you in bed. 

He takes a moment before he slips under the covers, taking in the sight of you in his bed, imagining you’re his and that it’s the norm for you to sleep together rather than an exception. You stir as the mattress dips with his weight, swapping the pillow of his that was clutched between your arms for his bicep that you hold onto instead. You’re way too gone to have heard any of what he just did, and for a moment he feels dirty for thinking about you the way that he does. 

It doesn’t last long, of course, as he dreams of you most nights. He can’t feel bad about it though – he’ll take any dream over one of his nightmares (that he hasn’t had since he met you). And if he’s honest it turns him on how innocent and unsuspecting you are of what goes on in his head when he thinks of you. 

-

You wake up still wrapped around his body the next morning. You have a headache and Logan brings you something to soothe it, offering to massage your stiff neck too. You sigh in bliss as soon as Logan’s hands are on you, and he reminds himself that you must be touch-starved. You’ve never touched yourself, let alone felt the touch of another person that went beyond platonic or familial affection. 

He revels in the sounds he pulls from you with ease with the most basic massaging technique there is. He never wants to leave. He started off hovering over the back of your thighs, but he’s been making his way forwards and now his crotch is nestled right against the soft swell of your ass. You either don’t notice that he’s slowly moved or you don’t realise what exactly is pressing into your backside. 

It’s obvious that you’re enjoying his hands on the back of your neck and the top of your shoulders; he doubts there’s anything that could distract you from it. Except if he got hard maybe, but he’s got more self control since he jerked off in the bathroom again after waking up with morning wood and with you by his side, just before he brought you some painkillers. 

“You’re so good with your hands, Logan,” you tell him, voice all raspy, and he smirks at the innuendo you don’t realise you’re making. 

“It’s what my girl deserves,” he says, pulling a smile and a hum from your lips. 

“I’m your girl?” you ask shyly, eyes still closed as his knuckles drag over your skin. 

“O’course you are, bub.” He’s not sure in what way you interpret the pet name but he can tell you like it, hearing how your heartbeat speeds up just that little bit. You like being his, and he likes that. 

-

It’s during a particularly horny evening that Logan comes to your room. He’s jerked off twice today to pictures of you — pictures he’s snuck over the time he’s known you, you smiling as you laugh at a tv show, stretching on the sofa not realising that he’s got his phone out, or that one photo of you smiling all shyly on the day you first met him and he showed you around the mansion. Jean asked to take a picture to commemorate the day you joined them, and he remembers the way he slid his arm around the back of your waist and you placed your hand shyly on his back, smiling all adorably. 

He’s got a picture of you in a bikini from that one time you two went swimming but he keeps that for special occasions. Today was one of those special occasions, and he came all over his phone screen, cursing when he had to clean it afterwards; he even had to get the phone case off and all. 

But you still won’t leave his head for even just a second, so he decides it’s time for the next step. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you with anything, but he also just really wants you. Can’t help it. He’s a selfish man but any man would be if he knew you the way Logan did. He knocks at your door. “Yeah?” you call out. 

You grin when he steps in and closes the door behind himself. You stretch out your arms for a hug to greet him, even though you only saw him a few hours ago. He joins you where you’re sitting on your bed with your laptop. Logan turns the screen towards him, hoping to find something naughty but he should have known better. It’s just some video essay on a topic he’s never even heard of. He shuts the laptop. 

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” you tell him, genuinely focussed, “If I’m your girl then what are you to me? My boy sounds weird, and my man.. I don’t know.”

He almost forgot that he called you his girl to your face, and he smirks when he imagines you thinking about it these past few days. He lies down on his side, invading your space, almost touching you with how close he is next to you.

 “I can be anything you like, bub.” 

You shrug shyly, “Maybe you’re just my Logan.” 

He’s surprised at how much that turns him on. You being his, that’s one thing. But him being yours? Those two things go hand-in-hand, of course, but he thought you were still a long way off from liking him as much as he likes you. 

It encourages him to ask you what he’s been thinking about for days. He says it casually. “So, had any success touching yourself?” He uses that tame expression so that you’re less embarrassed.

Still, your eyes widen slightly and you immediately start playing with the hem of your oversized t-shirt. “What do you mean?” 

“You know what I mean,” he smirks, “Don’t gotta be embarrassed around me. We’ve been over this.” Although, for a second he wonders if you even remember the conversation. You were drunk after all, and he considers feeling bad, but then you smile. 

“I know, but… I haven’t tried it since. I’ve thought about it but I still don’t know what to do.” He’s got you right where he wants. 

“Y’know, I don’t mind showing you. You deserve to feel good.” 

You look away, “What would you even show me? And how? Guys are different down there.” Oh, you’re so innocent. He’s having so much fun. 

“I could touch you.” He watches you experience a multitude of emotions as you think about it. Shame, intrigue, resolve. 

“Wouldn’t that be weird for you?” 

“Not at all, don’t worry about me.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure, bub.” 

You look around you, putting your laptop and your phone on your nightstand, “What do I do?” you ask, playing with the blanket. 

“I’ll just touch you a bit, okay? Just get you used to the feeling,” he tells you, both of you sitting up and he pulls your legs around his waist, gently touching all over your inner thighs, squeezing the flesh.

You’re already arching your back, scooting closer to him, and he lifts your shirt up over your hip and sees the wet spot on your panties. He’s not sure if you notice how hard he is under his sweatpants but no one could blame him for that. You’re getting so worked up and he hasn’t even touched you anywhere near your pussy, you’re breathing so heavily and your heart is beating so fast.

“Y’want a kiss, bub?” Logan asks you all sweetly, and you lean in as soon as the words leave his mouth. Your lips on his are messy but eager, and Logan loves that he can feel that it’s your first kiss. You don’t know what you’re doing but you need it – need him. 

But he has to stop at some point because it’s getting harder to not fuck you, so he gently pulls away, and you grin shyly when the kiss is over. Logan leans in one more time for a quick kiss. He pushes you backwards a bit and looks between your spread thighs. You’re so wet. You’re squirming under his gaze.

“Can I take these off?” he asks, tugging at the waistband of your panties and your breathing gets shaky when his finger grazes your belly. You bite your lip and nod.

“Good girl,” he says, pulling your underwear down your thighs with one hand, eyes glued to your pussy. You’re so wet and sticky already, and your pussy looks even better than anything he’s imagined – and he’s imagined it a lot.

He wants nothing more than to fuck you, or eat you out at least, but he’s supposed to be showing you how to masturbate, so he lies down next to you.

“So, if you were alone, you might touch yourself like this.” He takes his hand between your thighs, softly touching your clit. You’re leaning into him, head against his shoulder as you watch his big hand between your thighs. It looks so right there. You look to your side and gaze up at Logan, and you can’t help but just kiss him again.

And while you’re kissing, Logan puts his palm on your pussy and starts rubbing you a bit rougher, and you become too distracted to keep kissing him.

“You like when I play with your clit?” he teases you and you nod, hiding your face in his neck. Logan moves down to fuck one of his fingers into you, then two, and you’re whimpering against his warm skin. With his palm still rubbing against your clit, you have your first ever orgasm with Logan and you hold onto him as the pleasure flows through your body.

He keeps going until you put your hand around his wrist to stop him and you shyly smile up at him. “Was that good, bub?” 

You answer with a weak “yeah”, your voice hoarse but you’re smiling and your skin is glowing. Logan pulls his hand away and shows you how your arousal sticks to his fingers, and your eyes search his because you’re not sure if this is a good or bad thing.

Your mouth opens when Logan takes his fingers into his mouth and sucks your taste off them. “Taste so fucking good, baby. You wanna taste yourself?” And he waits patiently until you’ve made your mind up but you nod and let him put one of his fingers into your warm, wet mouth. You suck on it for much longer than necessary and Logan tries to save the image in his brain for later.

He holds you for a bit as you comprehend that you’ve just had an orgasm for the first time in your life. You shyly thank him before he leaves and he makes you promise that you’ll try it again by yourself soon. That was the whole point of this, after all – nothing to do with Logan or anything.

-

Logan thought he’d be satisfied for a bit, but all it’s done is make him even needier for you. You’re so oblivious to all his flirting, and he’s sure you genuinely thought he just wanted to show you how to masturbate the other day. 

Of course, he could just ask you out, but it’s more fun this way. He likes watching you figure stuff out. He wonders how long it’ll take you to realise that he actually likes you, that teaching you how to jerk off maybe wasn’t only in your best interest but in his too.

He’s a bit pathetic when it comes to you at this point, though. As much as he’s teasing you, it’s also teasing him. It’s a bit of a low point, but he pretends to be in a bad mood to get your attention.

You come to his room in the late afternoon when you haven’t seen him all day, and you’re so kind and so caring and immediately worried when you see him sprawled in bed in his pyjamas that consist of grey sweatpants and a white shirt.

“You okay? What happened?” you close the door and sit on his bed immediately.

Logan fake sighs, suppressing a smile as he pouts exaggeratedly. “Nothing, bub. Don’t you worry about me.” He squeezes your knee to reassure you, and he watches you perk up at his touch.

“You know you can always talk to me,” you smile kindly, and he wants to kiss you so badly. He doesn’t usually talk about emotions and feelings all that much, but you’re always trying to get him to open up because it’s good for him, so he knows he’s got you with this.

“I’m just feeling a bit down today. That’s all. Don’t wanna bother you with my problems.”

“You’re not bothering me. I’m always here for you.”

He watches you gnawing on your lip as you think about what to say next, and Logan waits curiously. “Have you uh, jerked off today? I think an orgasm would cheer anyone up, if it feels as good as you made me feel the other day.”

And Logan’s all like “I’ve tried but it’s been so long since a woman touched me, and my own hand just isn’t doing it for me anymore.”

He gets hard immediately when you perk up, smiling with your sweet expression and saying, “I could help you! I hate seeing you so sad”.

And Logan pretends, saying “no, bub, I’d never ask that of you,” but you sit up on your knees and say “I really wouldn’t mind! And I owe you for last time anyway.”

“If you’re really sure?” 

You nod sweetly and brush your hair out of your face and ask, “where do you want me?”

And even just you asking that is something that will stay in his mind for a long time. He feels like you’d do anything he asked of you right now and it’s already driving him crazy. He says “just next to me here, bub. Yeah there is fine”. 

You lean in to kiss him and he only pulls away out of surprise, and you’re blinking back at him with wide eyes, apologising, “It’s just cause you kissed me last time, I thought— I thought it’s part of–”

“Yeah, baby, it is. Just didn’t know if you wanted to kiss me again.”

You give him a cheeky smile and nod, “of course I wanna kiss you. You’re my best friend. I’d do anything for you”. 

Logan grins and bites his lip and says “me too, bub”, and leans in and kisses you again, basically attacking you with his mouth. He can tell it’s getting a little much for you with the way he’s eating you alive so he stops himself and asks “was that too much?” 

You shake your head, “just don’t know how to kiss like that yet.” And he likes that. Yet. Maybe he can sneak in some kissing lessons at some point, just to show you how it’s done of course, no other reason. 

You look down at his lap then and it’s obvious how hard he is. “Y’wanna you touch it like this first?” he asks you, grabbing himself over his sweatpants, the outline becoming clearer.

And you nod so eagerly, but get a bit shy when you’re touching his cock, one of your knees pulled up to your chest as you palm him over his sweatpants. “It’s so big,” you marvel, oblivious to how much this is affecting Logan.

“You wanna see?”

You tell him yes and he pulls the waistband down, and you lean closer when he wraps a hand around his cock, stroking himself just a few times to relieve the pressure. 

You bring a finger to his mouth like he did for you the other day, and he chuckles, “that won’t be enough, bub”. Your cheeks burn when you say “oh”.

“Here,” he moves your hand so your open palm is facing him and he spits into it.

“Now do this,” Logan tells you, taking your hand and wrapping it around his cock, guiding you up and down with your spit-slicked palm. You watch in awe as you jerk him off, his hand never leaving the back of yours.

He could cum immediately like this, but he tries to savour the feeling a bit longer.

“Does it feel good?” you ask him.

“Yeah, doing so well, bub. Think you can do it by yourself?”

You shake your head with a smile. Yes, you could do it by yourself, but you like the feeling of him guiding you, setting the pace and intensity. He grins and continues, squeezing your hand tighter so that your grip on his cock tightens too.

Logan lets you jerk him off a bit longer before he gives in. He’s proud of you for not pulling away in surprise when he cums, coating your hand and his in his cum as ropes of white shoot over your skin and onto his shirt. He lets go of your hand to pull off his shirt and watches you examine your hand full of Logan’s cum.

“Can I taste it?” you ask in a quiet voice, and Logan just about gets hard again.

“Yeah,” he tells you, but pushes his own fingers into your mouth. Your lips wrap around his two fingers and suck the cum off, and Logan can’t help but push them further into your mouth, making you giggle. You pull his hand away after a bit, only to lick your own fingers. He uses the clean part of his shirt to dry your hand off after, and you lie down to cuddle him.

“Do you feel better?”

Logan chuckles, “Yeah, bub, I feel better. Thanks.”

“Good,” you grin, proud of yourself. Logan’s proud of you too.

-

It’s still the same day when you come to his room the next time. You left after a bit to go to sleep, but now there are knocks on Logan’s door that he recognises as yours before you say anything.

You enter his room in your pyjamas – a big shirt – and some fluffy socks, a plushie under your arm. You look so oh so innocent that he almost feels bad for corrupting you. You come in, close the door, and sit on his bed again, legs dangling off the side of it. He could really get used to you being in here.

“Can’t sleep?” He asks, but you ignore him, hugging your plushie for comfort.

 “I… can you maybe…” you let out a sigh, “I tried to masturbate but I can’t do it by myself. Can you show me again?” 

Maybe you’re not so innocent anymore. He chuckles and tells you of course, and he’s starting to wonder if you’ve caught on to the game that he’s playing, and if you’ve joined him, but he’d still bet money that you really are this naive. Logan pulls his full length mirror in front of his bed, not too close, but close enough that you can see yourself in it. 

He moves to lift your shirt to get your panties off, and his heart skips a beat as he’s greeted by the sight of your bare pussy, already glistening.

“It was easier to come with them already off,” you say, and he reaaally has to restrain himself so he doesn't bend you over and take you right here.

You drop your stuffed toy to the side of Logan’s bed as he sits you in front of the mirror, getting behind you, putting his legs either side of you.

“God, you’re so pretty.” He can’t stop himself from saying it as he makes you look at yourself in the mirror, legs spread.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Logan,” you say, shying away from looking in the mirror.

“You can do it, bub. I got you, okay?”

You’ve turned around to look at him better, and he chuckles when he gets it.

“Is this what you need?” he asks as he leans in to kiss you, and you moan yes into his mouth. He loves you so fucking much.

His dick is already so hard and he’s not sure if you can feel it pressing into your ass, but either way you’re not complaining. He takes your chin to make you face yourself in the mirror, and he can’t get enough of seeing you two in it together – the way he’s sitting behind you like this, imagining other positions you two could be in.

“Here,” he pushes his finger into your mouth, even though you’re already wet enough, watching you suck on it eagerly. His finger stays in your mouth much longer than necessary.

He starts gently rubbing your clit in circles, and you squirm in his arms that are around you, one on your waist, the other between your legs.

“I did that too, but it feels better when you do it,” you mumble after a while, clearly enjoying it but unsure what you were doing wrong when you did it yourself.

“Try it.” Logan takes your hand, and makes you do it yourself. You’re squirming with him watching you like this, but it is useful to sit in front of the mirror, copying how he played with your pussy just moments ago.

Logan’s not blind to how wet you are, at having him watching and guiding you, and he can’t help it as he reaches into his boxers to jerk off. He doesn’t get his cock out but he’s not hiding it. You can see the movement of his arm in the mirror and you might even be able to feel it at your back, as Logan’s fist grazes your shirt every now and then as he strokes himself.

But you’re so focussed on looking between your own legs that Logan is genuinely not sure if you’ve noticed him jerking off, and the sounds of your wet pussy are louder than his hand on his cock.

“I… I can’t,” you whine after a bit, taking your hand away from your pussy, but Logan is close, and he wants you to cum too.

He keeps jerking off, and he sees you noticing it, sitting up a bit taller but you don’t seem to mind. You’re smiling, biting your lip.

“Yeah, you can, baby. Here, we’ll do it together.” He keeps a hand on his cock, reaching around you to put your hand back between your legs, and then he pushes two of his fingers into your pussy, fucking you with them.

“You close, bub? I’m close,” he says, and the idea of cumming together with Logan makes your pussy squeeze around his fingers, so you do your best to recreate the pattern on your clit that Logan showed you, rubbing it in circles until you get the right angle.

“Good girl, that’s it. So tight around my fingers. Come on now.” Logan’s so close he has no idea how he’s still holding off, sloppily jerking his cock with one hand and fucking your pussy with his fingers on the other hand.

You lean your head back, landing on Logan’s shoulder, as your orgasm pulses through you. Logan can feel your pussy spasming around him, and he lets go too, cumming over his hand and his boxers.

You’re both out of breath for a while after, barely moving.

“Y’did it, bub,” he kisses the top of your head, and you smile at him through the mirror, turning to press a messy kiss to the side of his face. He won’t take that though, so he grabs your face, smearing some of his cum on your cheek, and pulls you to face him for a proper kiss. You smile against his mouth as you make out.

You sleep in his room again that night, but he can’t say it feels like you know that he likes you yet. He’ll have fun watching you figure it out soon.

-

✧ reblog and let me know your thoughts for Logan to appear in your dreams tonight <3

[moonlitstoriess]

Frosted Hearts-Azriel x fem!reader

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

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

See masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

The alliance with the Night Court.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her chest tightened with every step.

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

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

And she loathed every single part of it.

------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then it was time.

The veil.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is not what I want.

----------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes lingered on her for too long.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was it. This was her life now.

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

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

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

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

---------

It had been a week since the wedding.

One week, and nothing had changed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--------

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

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

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

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

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

A soft knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

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

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

It was Nesta.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he didn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Azriel.

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

It was almost too much to bear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n,” came a voice from behind her.

It was Cassian.

He stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/n stiffened, not trusting herself to respond.

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

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

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

And she would be alone. Again.

---------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She didn’t care.

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

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

———-

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

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

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

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

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

Her hands clenched at her sides.

No. No more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was, until a shadow fell across her path.

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

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

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

The world around her spun, and everything went black.

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

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

Where was she?

Why had they taken her?

And who were these people?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Azriel, we have a problem.”

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

“Y/n… she’s been taken.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Azriel.

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

You’re clearly in love with Elain.

She hated that it was true.

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

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

But it was hard to ignore the way her pulse spiked when she thought of what lay ahead, of the uncertainty, of whether she would ever see Azriel again.

She didn’t know what she expected from him—whether he would even care enough to search for her, or if he would return to Elain, who was probably sitting in his arms right now, not knowing that Y/n had been taken.

"Get up," a voice barked from the doorway, dragging her from her spiraling thoughts.

Y/n’s gaze snapped to the figure in the shadows, her heart racing, but she forced herself to remain still. She wasn’t going to break—she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

The figure stepped closer, and she recognized the glint of the knife at his waist. “You’re coming with me.”

Y/n narrowed her eyes, refusing to show any sign of fear. She had learned long ago not to let anyone see her weakness. “Where are you taking me?”

“Does it matter?” He sneered, reaching for her arm to yank her to her feet.

She didn’t answer him. Instead, she stood on her own, using every ounce of her will to push the emotions threatening to overwhelm her to the back of her mind. She had to stay focused.

One step at a time. She could get out of this. She could find a way to escape—she wouldn’t let herself be caught like this. Not again.

As the door slammed behind her, the cold weight of her situation settled over her. The farther they took her, the further she seemed to slip away from everything she once knew.

And, somehow, the emptiness in her chest—the one that had started with Azriel, with her own regrets—only seemed to grow.

-------

Azriel couldn’t breathe. The moment Cassian had burst into the room with the news that Y/n had been taken, something inside of him snapped. The tight, cold grip he’d placed on his emotions shattered, and for the first time in weeks, raw, unrelenting fury took control. He hadn’t thought about his wife much in the past few days—had buried himself in missions and training and Elain’s presence, but now, as the reality of her abduction set in, it was all he could think of.

Where the hell is my wife?

Rhysand’s voice had faded into the background as Azriel shoved past him, already moving, already planning. He wasn’t thinking clearly, didn’t care what anyone else had to say. They were in her land now. They had taken his wife, and that was something no one would get away with.

He was the shadowsinger, a mster spy, after all. So, it was only a matter of minutes before he found where the bastards had taken his woman.

The enemy camp was in a desolate part of the forest, surrounded by crumbling ruins. Azriel’s heart beat erratically as he winnowed in with Cassian and Rhysand by his side, their shadows flickering in the cold moonlight. Every inch of his body screamed for violence.

“Get her back, Az,” Cassian said, his voice low, but his eyes just as bloodshot with rage. They both understood that this wasn’t just about a fight—it was about protecting their own.

“Stay close,” Azriel muttered, but his mind was already focused on the task ahead. He couldn’t lose her. Not like this.

The chaos was immediate. His shadows lashed out, tearing through the enemy guards, their screams drowned by the sound of Azriel’s wings slicing through the air, the crack of bones breaking under his fists. He killed anyone who dared stand in his path, his every move laced with the rage he couldn’t keep contained. He didn’t need to think—just act.

And then, there she was.

Y/n.

She was slumped against the wall, pale and barely conscious, her body battered. Her arms were tied, her chest heaving with shallow breaths.

“Y/n!” he roared, voice hoarse with relief and fury as he saw her in that state.

Her eyes fluttered open for a split second, and then closed again, as if she didn’t even have the strength to acknowledge him. That did something to him—something he couldn’t name, something sharp and painful.

Without another thought, he was at her side, gently cutting through the ropes binding her with his shadows. His hands were trembling, but he couldn’t afford to care. “Please, stay with me, Y/n. I’m not leaving you here,” he whispered, his voice raw.

He picked her up carefully, cradling her against his chest as he shot one last look at the carnage around them. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Cassian and Rhysand were already clearing the way, ensuring there were no more threats. Azriel’s shadows fought off anyone who dared get too close as he winnowed them away from the enemy camp.

The moment they were back in the safety of their home, Azriel collapsed to his knees, his heart pounding in his chest. Y/n was limp in his arms, her face pale, her breathing erratic. His gaze flicked over her, and the sheer terror of what had just happened—of nearly losing her—made his stomach churn.

“Y/n,” he breathed, brushing her hair back from her forehead, his fingers trembling with urgency. He needed her to stay awake, needed her to hear him.

"Please, stay awake for me, please, sweetheart.” he begged, voice desperate, not caring if anyone heard the raw plea in his tone.

But her eyes remained closed, her breathing shallow and strained. The darkness beneath her lids said everything he didn’t want to hear: she was slipping away.

And that realization—how close he had come to losing her—shattered him in ways he couldn’t begin to understand.

His anger was still there, like a storm waiting to break, but all he could feel now was the overwhelming need to protect her, to hold her, to never let anything like this happen again.

Her body was growing heavier in his arms, and her fingers, which had once clutched at him with fury and confusion, were now limp.

"Y/n," he whispered again, more softly this time, pressing his forehead to hers, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please, stay with me."

But she didn’t answer, her breathing fading as the darkness of unconsciousness took hold. He felt the weight of her body as she collapsed fully against him, and his heart clenched painfully.

He couldn’t breathe. She was slipping away, and he couldn’t stop it.

Azriel stood there for a long moment, clutching her to him like she was the very air he breathed. His wings were spread protectively around them both, and though his body was screaming for him to act, to fight, to do something, all he could do was hold her close.

"Please," he whispered once more, his voice cracking. "Please don’t leave me."

A hand on his shoulder.

Feyre.

"Az, let go, we need her to be treated immediately."

---------

The first thing Y/n became aware of was the warmth surrounding her. She wasn’t sure where she was, but the soft texture beneath her body—silk sheets—told her that it wasn’t the filthy cell she’d just been in. Her mind was hazy, heavy, and every inch of her body ached, like she had been dragged through hell and back.

But the pain didn’t matter. She didn’t care.

Her eyes flickered open, and the first thing she saw was the dark silhouette of Azriel, standing beside her bed, his face strained and full of tension. His posture was rigid, his shadows curling around him, as if they, too, were on edge.

She swallowed the bitter taste of her own thoughts. She had no reason to feel anything, and yet her heart felt frozen in place. The emotions she had once tried to push aside were back, gnawing at her from the inside. Anger. Hurt. Indifference.

What had he done for her, really? She was alive, yes, but that was all. The person who had put her here—the person who had torn her life apart—was the one who had saved her. 

He was standing there, as if it all made sense, as if they could go back to normal, as if the last few weeks had been anything other than a farce. She could feel the pity in his eyes, though it wasn’t obvious. His brow was furrowed, and his jaw clenched, his emotions in turmoil.

But none of it mattered.

"Azriel," she whispered, the sound of his name bitter on her tongue. She didn’t want to care about his distress, didn’t want to acknowledge it. His guilt, his regrets, his useless efforts—it all felt like too much. She pushed herself up on the bed slowly, her head swimming with the effort, her hands shaking. The whole world felt like a haze, but the bitterness that had settled deep in her chest was crystal clear.

"How nice," she spoke again, her voice cold, cutting through the air like ice. "You saved me, only after your people did all this shit to me. After they kidnapped me, tortured me. It’s funny, don’t you think? How your people did this to me, yet here you are, looking like you give a damn."

Azriel didn’t answer immediately. She could see his hands tighten into fists at his sides. He was still looking at her with those dark, unreadable eyes, his chest rising and falling as if he were holding his breath. She didn’t care.

She had spent so many weeks in this hell of a situation, forced to live in a marriage that felt more like a cage than anything else. His coldness toward her, his complete refusal to acknowledge her existence—none of it was forgotten. If anything, it had only made her hate him more.

"I don’t expect an apology," she said with a brittle laugh, "because I know I won’t get one."

Azriel’s mouth tightened, but she wasn’t sure if it was in anger or frustration. He was silent for a long moment, and the only sound in the room was the soft rustling of his shadows, as if they were waiting for his command. His eyes softened just a little, but Y/n refused to acknowledge it.

“Y/n,” he said finally, his voice strained but laced with something she couldn’t place. “I know you hate me. I don’t blame you. But—”

She cut him off with a sharp glance. “But nothing. It doesn’t matter now, does it? I’m still here, stuck with you and your family. With your people.”

Her chest tightened again, but she forced herself to ignore it. There was no space for weakness. No room for softness.

Azriel swallowed, his face contorting with some emotion she couldn’t read. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if searching for words that could repair the irreparable. But there was nothing. Nothing that would fix the broken trust. Nothing that would heal the wounds he had helped create.

Azriel watched her closely, feeling the weight of her words, feeling the coldness emanating from her. His heart ached in a way he couldn’t explain. The bitter realization settled in his chest, a slow burn of understanding.

She was his mate.

He had refused to believe it when he first felt it but....it all made sense. And the more he thought of it, the more he was surprised to find himself not feeling enraged with the idea.

He had panicked. Gone feral. Of course it made sense now. Why he had been so frantic when they’d taken her. Why he felt this overwhelming sense of protectiveness, why his world had turned upside down when he thought he had lost her. Why he refused to leave her side for even a single second these past few days.

But he couldn’t tell her. Not yet. She hated him, and rightfully so. He had spent weeks ignoring her, fighting against a bond he hadn’t known how to accept. Now that he understood, now that it was clear... It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t believe him.

“Y/n,” he said again, voice softer this time. He reached a hand out toward her, but she pulled away. She didn’t want him near her. Not now. Not after everything.

"I’m not asking for your forgiveness," Azriel continued, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. "I just... I’ll do better. I’ll make an effort."

His words felt hollow, even to him. What could he possibly do to make this right? How could he fix what had been broken? How could he earn her trust back, when he had destroyed it so thoroughly?

Y/n didn’t answer him. She just stared at him, her eyes cold and unreadable. It made something deep inside him twist painfully.

“I don’t need your promises,” she finally spoke, her voice flat. “And I don’t need you to ‘try’ for me, Azriel. I don’t need you for anything.”

Her words stung, cutting deeper than anything he could’ve expected. But they were the truth. She hated him, and he deserved it.

Still, the pull between them remained undeniable, even if she refused to see it.

Azriel didn’t move. He didn’t know what else to say. There was nothing left to say.

Y/n felt the emptiness spread inside her. The room felt too small, the air too heavy. She wanted to be anywhere but here—anywhere but in this cage of her own making.

But she was still here. And nothing was going to change that.

And no amount of promises could make her believe that Azriel was ever going to be the man she needed.

----------

The days had blurred together since the night she had collapsed in his arms. Y/n’s body still ached, but it was a dull, almost forgettable pain now. It had been replaced by the ache of something deeper—something she refused to acknowledge. And Azriel was still there. Every morning, every evening. Silent, but ever-present.

At first, she had ignored him. At first, she’d kept herself isolated from him, refusing to speak, refusing to even look in his direction. But over the past week, something had shifted. It wasn’t that she had softened—no, it wasn’t that easy. But there were moments, fleeting, almost invisible, when his presence didn’t annoy her as much. When she’d see him at the door, a cup of tea in his hand, his eyes soft as he looked at her, and for a brief second, her chest would tighten—not with anger, but with something else.

Something like... relief?

“No more lectures today,” Azriel had said the night before, after yet another one of his silent offerings of tea.

Y/n had shot him a look, her mouth curling into a mock smile. “I didn’t ask for your company,” she snapped, but the words felt hollow even to her.

He’d shrugged and set the cup on the table beside her. “I’m not here for your approval. Just... here."

She had expected him to say something about his promise to “try harder” or some nonsense, but he didn’t. He just left, the sound of his footsteps faint as they receded down the hall.

It was... different.

--------

Two weeks after the attack, Y/n found herself trying to get up from the bed and walk again. Her fingers running over the old wooden dresser. There was a strange sense of isolation she couldn’t shake, despite the fact that she was under the same roof as him and his family. Despite the fact that he was so close, his presence was always felt, even when he wasn’t physically in the room.

It was impossible to ignore him, and for some reason, it frustrated her to no end.

Her mind drifted back to that night, to their conversation in the healing room. The one where Azriel had apologized again, as if it would fix things. She didn’t understand why he cared so much, and maybe that was what irritated her. Maybe that was the part she didn’t want to understand.

Just as she turned to the door, there he was, standing in the doorway, his usual shadowed presence filling the space.

“I don’t need you here,” Y/n said before he could say anything, her voice harsh.

Azriel took a slow breath, his gaze unwavering. “I know.”

She froze, the harsh words hanging in the air between them. She expected him to back down, to offer an apology. But instead, he took a step forward, his wings flexing in a fluid motion.

“I’m not leaving. But I’ll stay out of your way.” His voice was low, almost too careful. He came and gently took ahold of her arm, helping her move around. And for the first time in weeks, Y/n felt something different—something close to a sigh of relief.

----------

Another few days passed, and somehow, against every instinct she had, Y/n found herself standing next to Azriel in the heart of Velaris. The City of Starlight, as Rhysand called it, was beautiful beyond measure—its elegance, its warmth, its life, pulsing through every street, every corner.

The night was warm, the air fragrant with flowers, the glow of lanterns casting a soft golden hue over the cobblestones. For a moment, Y/n forgot about the tensions, about the animosity between her and Azriel. The city had a way of washing away that bitterness, as though its magic had seeped into her very bones.

This was truly the first time she came to explore the city since her arrival in here.

“You’re not afraid of it?” she asked, her voice soft as she turned to Azriel, who had been walking beside her, seemingly lost in thought.

Azriel glanced at her, his face unreadable for a moment before a small smile tugged at his lips. “Afraid of Velaris? No. I’m afraid of what I might do to you here, though.”

Y/n met his gaze, and for once, she didn’t feel the sharp edge of anger that usually followed whenever they spoke. “I don’t need your protection.”

“No,” he agreed, his voice quiet but firm. “You don’t. But I’d like to be here for you anyway.”

Y/n didn’t respond, but she didn’t pull away either. Instead, she let herself enjoy the night. It was small—so small—but it was something.

----------

The days had blurred together since the night she had collapsed in his arms. Y/n’s body still ached, but it was a dull, almost forgettable pain now. It had been replaced by the ache of something deeper—something she refused to acknowledge. And Azriel was still there. Every morning, every evening. Silent, but ever-present.

At first, she had ignored him. At first, she’d kept herself isolated from him, refusing to speak, refusing to even look in his direction. But over the past week, something had shifted. It wasn’t that she had softened—no, it wasn’t that easy. But there were moments, fleeting, almost invisible, when his presence didn’t annoy her as much. When she’d see him at the door, a cup of tea in his hand, his eyes soft as he looked at her, and for a brief second, her chest would tighten—not with anger, but with something else.

Something like... relief?

“No more lectures today,” Azriel had said the night before, after yet another one of his silent offerings of tea.

Y/n had shot him a look, her mouth curling into a mock smile. “I didn’t ask for your company,” she snapped, but the words felt hollow even to her.

He’d shrugged and set the cup on the table beside her. “I’m not here for your approval. Just... here."

She had expected him to say something about his promise to “try harder” or some nonsense, but he didn’t. He just left, the sound of his footsteps faint as they receded down the hall.

It was... different.

It had been three weeks since the incident that nearly tore her apart, and today was different. Today, something inside her had shifted. The cold walls she’d built around herself, the ones she’d reinforced with every cruel word, every insult, every bit of anger toward him—they were slowly crumbling.

Y/n had been in the courtyard of Rhysand’s estate, sitting on a bench, watching the sun set over the city when Azriel appeared beside her.

“I have something I want to show you,” he said, his voice low, hesitant in a way that was both surprising and familiar.

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “What?”

He extended his hand toward her, and for a long moment, she simply stared at it. His shadows curled around him, his presence unmistakable, but it wasn’t commanding anymore. It was... something else. Gentle. Inviting.

He didn’t say anything else. Just stood there, waiting for her to make the choice.

Slowly, reluctantly, she stood and placed her hand in his.

The world shifted beneath them.

In an instant, the ground disappeared from beneath their feet, and Y/n gasped, her body jerking slightly. She instinctively grabbed onto Azriel’s shoulders, her pulse quickening as they soared higher into the sky. The wind whipped through her hair, the city shrinking below them, and the stars stretched endlessly above.

Azriel’s voice was a soft hum in the air as they flew through the night. “I wanted you to see the city from here. From above.”

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t help herself. It was too beautiful, too breathtaking.

“I didn’t think you’d ever want to share this with me,” she whispered, her grip tightening slightly on his arm.

Azriel glanced at her, his eyes full of something she couldn’t quite place. “I don’t know why I’m showing you this. But I want you to understand. Velaris is mine to protect... and now, it’s yours too.”

Her heart pounded, but this time, it wasn’t from fear. It was something else. Something warmer, like the firelight crackling in the hearth back at Rhysand’s house.

And when they landed, her feet once again on solid ground, she didn’t pull away immediately. Her hand remained in his, his other hand still keeping her tight and close to his body, and for the first time, she didn’t feel the need to retract.

For once, she felt... safe.

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

And so it went on, day after day, as her an Azriel got closer and closer, him constantly making efforts to be with her.

"I never had anyone who supported me. My aprents aren't exactly the most.....nicest beings on the planet."

Azriel looked down at her, in his arms, as they both stood in the balcony. His grip on her tightened as he said firmly, “Then I’ll be the one who supports you,” He hadn’t planned on saying those words. They just... slipped out. But once they were out in the open, he felt a weight lift off his chest, like a truth he’d been trying to avoid for far too long.

Y/n shifted slightly in his arms, her gaze fixed on the horizon, where the sun was just beginning to dip below the skyline of Velaris. Her expression was unreadable, but the tension in her body softened, just a fraction. “You don’t have to. No one has to. I’ve always done fine on my own.”

Azriel’s hand moved slightly, tracing the line of her shoulder, his thumb brushing against her skin in the way he’d seen himself do to comfort others—except this time, he wasn’t comforting anyone else. He was comforting her. His mate. The thought still sent a jolt through him every time, but the longer he was with her, the more natural it felt.

“I know you’re used to doing things on your own,” Azriel murmured, his voice barely a whisper. “But you don’t have to anymore.”

She turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze. “Why? Why do you even care?” The question was blunt, almost sharp, but there was no anger in it—just the echo of confusion and wariness.

Azriel swallowed, feeling something shift in him. Something... softer, but stronger at the same time. “Because I’m not like your parents, Y/n,” he said quietly, the words coming from deep within. “I’m not going to turn my back on you. Not now. Not ever.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the sound of their breaths in the quiet of the evening. Y/n looked up at him, her eyes searching his face as if trying to figure out if he meant it, if he was lying.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and thick with unspoken words, and then she sighed softly, her eyes dropping to the ground. “I don’t know if I can trust that,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “I’ve been let down before.”

Azriel felt his heart tighten. He knew all too well the feeling of being betrayed, of being left alone. But now wasn’t the time for his own wounds to resurface. This was about her. He stepped closer, his hands gently cupping her face, forcing her to meet his eyes. “I won’t let you down. I can’t promise it will be easy, but I can promise I’ll always be here. For you.”

Y/n didn’t respond right away, her lips parted as if to speak, but the words never came. Instead, she just nodded, once, almost imperceptibly.

Azriel leaned forward then, slowly, hesitating for just a fraction of a second before pressing his forehead gently against hers. “I’m here, sweetpea,” he whispered again, his voice a soft, steady promise. “And I’ll keep being here.”

And in that moment, something cracked in her chest. It wasn’t trust—at least not yet—but it was a shift. A tiny step toward letting him in.

For the first time in a long while, Y/n didn’t feel so alone.

-------

As the days and weeks passed, the distance between Y/n and Azriel shrank. Slowly but surely, she let her guard down, just a little. His presence became more and more a part of her routine, his quiet support a constant in her life. They were no longer strangers trapped in a forced marriage. They were two people learning to understand one another, navigating through the walls they'd built up around themselves.

Azriel's efforts were unwavering. He would sit beside her when she needed company, but he also gave her space when she wanted to retreat into herself. They shared small, silent moments: him waiting for her to speak when she wasn't sure if she could, him showing her parts of Velaris she hadn't yet seen, him listening to her thoughts when she finally dared to open up. In turn, Y/n began to share more and more, until her ice-cold exterior started to melt, just a little at a time.

But still, she kept her distance emotionally. She was hesitant to allow herself to get too close, to let herself feel anything beyond the surface. Because underneath, she still wasn’t sure if she could trust it. Could trust him.

One evening, when the moon hung low in the sky, Azriel brought her to the edge of a quiet garden just outside the city. The stars glittered overhead, and the air was cool, the scent of night-blooming flowers filling the space around them. He stood beside her, quiet as always, but there was something different in his posture tonight. Something weighted, something serious.

Y/n was standing a few paces away, her back turned, arms crossed over her chest as she stared out at the vast, star-filled sky. She had gotten used to the silence between them, but tonight it felt heavy, almost as if he were waiting for something.

“You’ve been distant tonight,” she said, not turning around. She knew he was there, felt his presence in a way that had become familiar.

Azriel shifted, his shadowed wings shifting with him. “I’ve been thinking,” he started, his voice a bit quieter than usual. “About... everything.”

Y/n didn’t look at him, not yet. But she felt the weight of his gaze on her, pulling her attention in ways she couldn’t ignore. "About what?" Her voice was guarded, but there was a softness to it now.

Azriel took a step closer, his hand reaching out, though he hesitated before touching her. He wasn’t sure how she would react—if she would push him away again. “About us. And what comes next.”

The words stirred something in her. Y/n slowly turned to face him, her expression unreadable, but she was feeling something now—something she hadn't let herself feel before. Her heart, cold and distant for so long, was starting to thaw.

“What do you mean by ‘what comes next’?” she asked, her voice faintly trembling.

Azriel exhaled softly, his eyes locking onto hers, and for the first time in a long while, Y/n saw the full weight of his feelings—of everything he hadn’t said, hadn’t shown. "Y/n, you’ve been through so much. I know that. And we’ve both been trying to navigate a marriage that wasn’t our choice. But what I’m about to say... it matters. And I’ve been afraid, afraid to tell you. But it's time."

Y/n frowned, the confusion on her face deepening. “What are you talking about?”

Azriel stepped closer, closing the distance between them. His eyes never left hers, and she could see the vulnerability in them now. The walls he'd built, even for her, were starting to crumble. He had kept so much from her, kept his distance when he shouldn't have. And now, it was time to tell her the truth.

“You’re my mate,” he said softly, the words coming out almost as a whisper. "I knew the moment I brought you back, Y/n. I didn’t want to tell you then... We were both still so caught up in our own worlds. I thought you wouldn’t want me. I thought it was too much. But now I can’t pretend anymore.”

Y/n blinked, her heart stopping for a beat. The words felt like a punch to the gut—everything she’d been trying to avoid hearing, but somehow, deep down, she had known. It was always there, lurking just beneath the surface. The way they had gravitated toward one another, the way she felt when she was with him. It wasn’t just a bond created by circumstance.

“Wait... you knew?” Y/n’s voice was quiet, but the disbelief in it was impossible to miss. “You knew all this time, and you didn’t tell me?” Her voice started to shake with the sudden rush of emotions she hadn’t let herself feel. The anger, the confusion, the hurt. It all came rushing back. “Why? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Azriel took a step back, his hands flexing at his sides as if he were torn between stepping closer or retreating. “I thought—” he paused, trying to find the right words. “I thought you’d be angry. I thought you wouldn’t want me. You were already dealing with everything. You didn’t need the pressure of that on top of it. I couldn’t give you more pain.”

Y/n’s heart ached at his words, but there was anger too, rising like a tide inside her. “You couldn’t have trusted me enough to tell me? To let me decide for myself? You can’t just assume how I feel about you, Azriel. You don’t get to make those decisions for me.”

Azriel winced at her words, but there was nothing he could say to make it better. He had made a mistake. A huge one. “I’m sorry, Y/n. I was afraid. I didn’t know what to do with it. But now... I can’t pretend anymore. You’re my mate. I never should’ve kept it from you.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, the world felt still. She wasn’t sure how to respond. She was angry, but deep down, there was something else—something softer, something that wanted to understand, wanted to reach out. But trust didn’t come easily for her. Not after everything.

“I don’t know what to do with this,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I don’t know what to do with you.”

Azriel's heart clenched. “I’m not asking you to know right now. But I’ll be here. Whenever you’re ready.”

Y/n didn't respond immediately. Instead, she stepped back, her eyes still locked on his, but her heart was a tumult of emotions she couldn’t put into words. “I need time,” she said quietly, more to herself than to him.

Azriel nodded, his expression softening. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be here.”

---------

It was a week later that they fully gave into one another.

Y/n hadn't expected this, she truly didn't. She was still processing everything, how crazy it all was. How, for the past four months, her life has been nothing but a roller coaster.

At first, she was certain she hated him. Despised him even.

But now, after all that happened, and especially after his confession, she couldn't hide her growing feelings anymore. Her mother would have been disappointed. Feelings are a weakness. But-

"You seem to be lost in thought."

Y/n lifted her head from her bed to see Azriel, standing in her doorway, arms crossed, a small smile on his lips.

She just sighed and leaned back down on her bed, slowly gesturing for him to come sit beside her. "So much is happening...I don't know what to feel anymore."

She felt the bed dip beside her as Azriel sat, "Well, if you tell me-"

His words were cut off as his eyes lowered and he took in the sheer, dark blue, nightgown she was wearing. It wasn't intentional really, she just put on what her hand took ahold of first but now....as she sat there and watched as her mate's eyes went darker and darker as he stared more and more, y/n couldn't help but feel proud of herself.

And so, that was how it began.

How they slowly got closer and closer until only mere inches seperated them before they both succumbed to their needs and kissed.

Denying Azriel's attrctiveness was like denying the existence of life itself.

And before either registered it, they were both naked, with Azriel kissing, sucking and biting each part of her. Her moans echoing throughout the room, handds scratching his scalp, their bodies glued to one another.

"So beautiful." a kiss to her collarbone, "So fucking beautiful."

"Mother above, look at these breasts. Can't believe you've been hiding them from me for four months."

Praises kept falling from Azriels lips as eventually, they were both connected fully. The second his cock entered her, Azriel couldn't help the groan that left his throat. His thighs seperating her legs further as he started off slowly, to savour this moment. His hands were palming her breasts, eyes glued to her face, her body, her expression, every little part, really.

She was perfect.

Then she held her arms open, open for him to lay his head in the crook of her neck as his hips began taking on a faster pace, his breathy moans and groans mixing with hers.

"F-fuck, that's it, s-sweetpie. Keep making those moans for me."

They didn't stop the whole night, going at it like a newly mated couple which...they probably were at this point.

Eventually though, by sunrise, they were entangled together, his dick still semi-hard inside of her.

"You are all mine." Azriel's voice dripped with posession as he kissed her neck, nuzzling his head there.

Y/n smiled slightly.

"Oh really? and here I thought I was just another one of your many projects. How flattering.”

Azriel’s eyes flashed with a mix of amusement and something deeper. “You’re not just a project,” he replied, his voice low, serious even, as his fingers brushed against the small of her back. “You’re mine. And I don’t take what’s mine lightly.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, though her heart fluttered in her chest despite her best efforts to remain indifferent. “Uh-huh, and that’s supposed to make me feel special?”

Azriel chuckled softly, leaning in to press his lips to her temple, soft and lingering. “It’s supposed to make you feel safe,” he said quietly, the playful tone in his voice fading for a moment. “And you are special, Y/n. More than you know.”

She looked at him, unsure of what to make of his sincerity. For all his strength, his power, his ability to overwhelm her with his presence, there was a vulnerability in the way he said those words that caught her off guard.

“Guess I’ll have to get used to that, huh?” she muttered, her voice softer now.

He smiled gently, pulling her closer, his wings folding protectively around them both. “Only if you want to.”

And apparently, she did want to. Because as they lay there talking about their future, the new chapter of their marriage, she couldn't help but wonder how it had all shifted so unexpectedly.

But it also made her realise something. Maybe they weren’t perfect. Maybe they didn’t have all the answers. But they had each other. And for now, that was enough.

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

[skyfallscotland]

This was a stellar analysis and if everyone who is NOT Helena could just ignore this reply that would be amazing. (Not really, you don’t have to, but like if you think I’m dumb just whisper it quietly to yourself and if you can’t handle dissection of the text or SOMETIMES dissatisfied opinions, then also turn away this is not for you, I don’t want more anxiety it was just too long for the comment reply box).

I laughed out loud at “modern au” 😭😂 she just wanted to get in on that, she saw us writing relatively happy Xaden and went you know what, that seems like fun

I just think the new “brother” being Bodhi is so trite and heavy handed 😩

I actually just assumed this was a six month period like the last two books so Aaric’s signet could have manifested a month in LMAO damn it. PLUS, before Rebecca said that, it did line up for him having manifested during the battle of Basgiath. His whole speech to Vi about having to choose between Lilith and her seemed a bit too on the nose to me.

If it IS Bodhi for the reasons RY implies and Xaden’s like wow he’s the last person I’d expect…it really isn’t a good look for Xade in my opinion 😭

What is a random vindictive gene if not a birth defect? Though I think maybe it could have been better demonstrated by Violet having had the fever and never recovered herself (a la POTS/CFS) if she wasn’t going to actually do something with it, but then I also think making the illness the result of her being “the bad guy” could also give neggy connotations? Idk it really depends if she plans on expounding on veninism—I know we’ve talked about this before.

But also on this—was Vi just a preemie baby? Was she just small? Because (afaik) a hEDS presentation probably wouldn’t be immediately obvious until she’s four? Five? Which is def old enough to remember going with daddy to a temple if it was a big deal/memorable event. Like how old was she before this was an idea in Asher’s mind? Or are we just assuming it’s to do with her illness and it’s not. It’s never overtly said.

I also think, on the venin, that perhaps in her original idea, they Were supposed to be a very one-dimensional villain, but then we got to writing book two and they made it a five book series and all of a sudden she felt like she had to flesh a lot of things out? And that maybe that is where things became unstuck and not greatly paced in regards to them as a concept?

“She is warmth and light and air and love” CRYING

Also, out of order with my other thoughts but I didn’t really get the ice analogy (when reading it in the book), I’m sorry, I’m dumb but it feels clunky.

SGAEYL IS HIS MOTHER

I don’t know who that person on the isle even was and his real mother should have roasted her for her offences.

Jack kinda implies that it goes initiate then straight to asim, no? Like there’s no in between?

The intentionally misleading writing For Me doesn’t hit. I really feel like she does this continually and I just think it shows poor narrative skill and/or poor choice of POV/tense overall if that’s how you want to do it. At the end of the day, readers aren’t supposed to come away from your book confused. Curious and wondering, yes, but confused, no. I would die if this many people were walking away from my writing going “what the fuck was happening, I almost DNF’d because I didn’t understand a thing” but that’s just me.

I think also, the lack of resolution for anything also ties into this. You have to give your readers some payoff and it can’t just be in the form of fan service. Every book needs to have some subplots that are wrapped up, all good series’ have some subplots wrapped up in each book—you get new questions, sure, but you have some answered too. Onyx Storm just didn’t do that.

Also, I think the Isle of Dunne is a red herring, I think he’s taking the eggs to the irids. They’re the ONLY ones who right now, as far as he knows, conceivably have the power to change the tide of this war, they just refuse to help because they left an irid there once and the dragons perverted her morality? I don’t have a fleshed out theory, but I think they’re the only ones it makes sense for Xaden to try and elicit a deal out of right now and I think he somehow plans on using the cultural exchange student hatchlings to do it 🤪🖤

Question: are the irids technically dragons at all? As we know them?

Were the dragons irids who lost some of their power by drawing from the ground or refusing to worship their gods? Is this devolution at work? I have….questions.

I’m very aware I need to do a re read to clear some things up for myself but I’m just not…wanting to yet ha. It’s also 1am so I’m probably making ZERO sense, I can barely keep my eyes open sorryyyy xx

I’d love to hear your thoughts on the ending!!

I'm soooo sorry nonny. This took 5ever. For some reason, I mentally decided that the completion of this ask would be the end of my Onyx Storm era, and then I didn't want to go near it because I didn't want the book to be done :(. However, I was brave, and I did it. This got insanely obscenely long, so you're getting Xaden's chapter 65 now, and then I'll reblog with Vi's LAST chapter some other time.

Chapter 65: Xaden

Veninism: I think the first thing that comes up in this chapter is the insight into the venin mindset. Xaden's significantly more intense (both than earlier in the book, and in his previous POV chapters). At first, I wasn't a huge fan of the "ice" thing, because I missed the part where he explains it (perks of reading till 5 in the morning) and I thought it was some anachronistic hockey reference. (Fun fact: I wrote this out before Rebecca gave that interview revealing that, yes, it WAS an anachronistic hockey reference. I know that lady WELL.) HOWEVER! The way it's explained here, (essay below the cut)

"Wrath courses like a current under the ice I willingly skate onto, cutting my emotions like the burdens they are so I can be the weapon she needs." (Yarros, 520)

reminds me a lot of a PTSD flashback/trauma event. Not only does this make significantly more sense with the metaphor at hand, but it makes a lot more sense with Rebecca's body of work. I know she's made addiction comparisons, and I can see some lines, but, frankly, I think it's a much more intricate web than a 1-1 metaphor. Especially with the use of the word "triggered" to describe what happens to him when he is "on the ice" as it were, I think (if anything) it's about using an addiction to cope with PTSD-type trauma.

Bond Fuckery: After revealing that Xaden cannot kill the sage himself, he goes on to say,

"I could no more raise a blade to his throat than I could Violet. The bond between Violence and me is the kind of magic that has no explanation." (Yarros, 521)

Which....is weird! Given that we have a precise explanation for said bond in Fourth Wing, maybe something else is going on? #the power of love?? I'm not trying to say they're soul mates in any real tangible way because this is not that kind of story, but I do think it means something. I just don't know what yet.

Further bond fuckery themes are found earlier in the book. There's the entire situation with Andarna leaving, in which Leothan says,

"Bonds are merely magical ties. You are irid. You are magic. Bend it, shape it, break it as you see fit." (Yarros, 443)

I've definitely seem some people floating the idea that perhaps Andarna broke Tairn and Sgaeyl's mating bond, re: Tairn's suspicious period of rest on page 526, (I personally thought he was tired from killing some dragons!) and I definitely think that's a possibility. However, I think it's really interesting that, specifically, Leothan also says bend it and shape it. I know we're supposed to finish the book thinking that Andarna/Leothan severed Violet's bond with Andarna, and then re-forged said bond mid-battle. To me...that doesn't really make sense? There was no real moment where you can say, okay, bond re-forged. It just kind of happens? Which I suppose is also how it happens at threshing, so maybe I'm the problem. Still, I think the idea that perhaps Andarna (or another irid??? given her 1 week of training???) bent or reshaped Tairn and Sgaeyl's mating bond (in order to protect Xaden/Xaden's mission/Violet from the consequences of Xaden's mission) is worth considering.

There's also the entire element of modern AU no magic isles. I know a lot of people thought that entire quest section of the book was filler, but I disagree. I definitely think that insertion was meant to demonstrate that the bonds are not as infallible as we've been led to believe, to show their importance to Xaden and Violet, and to further show just how much Andarna is not like other dragons, and therefore able to do shit with the bond.

Xaden's new brother! Xaden starts off describing the new venin by saying,

"and now that my sage has a new sibling he can use against me...I'm screwed." (Yarros, 521)

Then, he goes on to add:

"...my new brother and the unconscious dragon lying in the valley...how could he do this? Choose this after watching me stumble and fall over the last five months. How could he willingly walk the path I've fought like hell to leave? He's the last person I ever would have expected to turn, and yet here we are." (Yarros, 521)

My money's on Bodhi! There's a lot of "brother" mentions surrounding Bodhi, given the repeated descriptions of how similar he and Xaden look. He's "the closest thing (Xaden) has to a brother since Liam." Garrick even thought Theophanie called Bodhi his brother beforehand! It's Bodhi. Further nuance to Bodhi turning is found, in my opinion, in his frustration with Xaden's over-protection at the end of Onyx Storm. This feeling of impotence combined with something potentially happening to Cuir (re: unconcious dragon lying in the valley/Bodhi puking his guts up wherever that quote is) gives him a reason to turn.

I know @skyfallscotland thinks Xaden's new brother is actually Aaric, which is also super intriguing. Specifically, Amy suggested a scenario where Aaric knows he needs to be venin in order to win the war, and is willing to do whatever it takes to get to the future he sees. I do lean more towards Bodhi than Aaric, if only because of the element of knowing for 5 months (which Aaric does not--even if he finds out about Xaden's veninism from his signet, RY has confirmed Aaric didn't manifest in IF, and therefore it cannot have been five months prior to Battle of Draithus), Xaden really seems to care about this new brother. I know he says he has a "complicated sort of loyalty" to Aaric, but I don't think he and Aaric at the friendship level where Aaric can be used against him in the same way Bodhi can. There's also the whole having to give Vi Tyrrendor ordeal. I know some people think Xaden may have had a change of heart and decided to listen to Bodhi in regards to not forcing him to lead Tyrrendor in his stead, and/or Xaden just felt giving Vi the province directly (what a wedding gift!) was the best possible way to protect her. Who knows, not me. I think of Xaden as someone not particularly inclined to listening to people when he doesn't feel like it, but I also know he'll prioritize Vi regardless, so it could go either way.

Slayer! This is just for the one line mention of Berwyn killing the dragons with the alloy dagger. For one thing, I think this draws parallels between the venin and the dragons (which have been a theme the entire series). For another, I think this is how Xaden, Vi, and co. go about killing the dragons and elders in order to get to the eggs. Seems a lot less messy!

Everything, Everywhere, All At Once: Throughout the text, there's a couple mentions of individuals inability to be everywhere all at once. Theophanie, in chapter 60, for example: (from my Kindle copy, so no page numbers, sorryyyy)

"You're just another lightning wielder, mortally incapable of being everywhere at once."

Or, the slightly different take from Mira in Chapter 23:

"Even if he did, we can't be in two places at once."

I have no idea why this got me so bad, but every time I read it, my spidey-senses tingled. I really feel like it means something. Xaden then wraps things up with saying he IS everywhere at once, on page 522 in regards to the veninism amplifying his shadow powers.

Do I know what this means? No! Of course not! At first, I thought it was a papa sorrengail is venin hint, but I don't actually believe in that. I have been holding out hope that perhaps Vi is somehow venin from Lilith (this is why I think papa sorrengail had her dedicated. it doesn't really make sense to me for Rebecca to write her with a real disability, and then have that real disability be a birth defect when it isn't one in real life. that just seems odd?) and I think this COULD be a hint there. Although, as always, who knows.

What is a soul if not love? Some of you may know, I've been getting a wee bit heated about the implications of the corporeal soul. I get a bit gagged by this because it makes no sense. I ask @maethologies probably once a day, what IS a soul? And to that question, I raise you this: what is a soul if not love?

page 523 has this:

""I love you.' Violet's voice cracks the cold, and a silken thread of warmth wedges itself in the opening before it seals shut, locking it in place. No. Wait. I grab for that thread with desperate hands, clawing to keep her as more of my pieces are blown away, lost to the void. She is warmth and light and air and love."

For starters, I think "she is warmth and light and air and love" is my favorite quote from the entire series. It makes me want to cry!!! There's definitely something to the fact that being venin makes Xaden colder, and Violet only seems to get warmer in this book (her lightning being hot enough to blister, for example). But really, my focus here is that he's so aggressively in love with her. I genuinely do not know how people read this line, or the rest of the novel, and somehow thought Xaden was just going to go join up with the venin. Genuinely! I am REALLY not trying to be mean, it just makes no sense to me.

I'm going to go a bit out of order here to further contextualize, but other Xaden Riorson bangers include:

"What even am I? Hers." (Yarros, 524)

And, far earlier in the text, when Courtlyn asks to whom Xaden swears his fealty:

"Violet. (...) My loyalty is to Violet first above everything, everyone else." (this is a Kindle page number because I don't want to find it in my book, LMAO, but it's 326 in that format!)

Again, he's constantly making it as clear as humanly possible that SHE comes first for him. He is not going to spontaneously gain venin loyalty. Whatever soul-fuckery is going on here, it doesn't make him incapable of love. If anything, the presence of love is what is going to continue to save him. In the chapter 48 epigraph, in which a scenario is described wherein a venin returns to their village, desiccating an entire village except for her husband and two children. Clearly, the theme here is that the feeling of love helps venin gain control of themselves when lost to the thrall of power, if you will.

Frankly, there's a LOT of issues with venin as a concept and how willing the fan base is to accept the characterization of the entire "enemy" as evil, soulless, and incapable of feeling and love. Just on the most basic level, think about the real world implications of that ideology for about ten seconds. If you can't do that, think about it in-universe. The entire point of books one and two were that Navarre's government perpetuated a narrative of dehumanization in regards to the Poromish people so that Navarrians could see them as the enemy. This tactic of dehumanization is then DIRECTLY applied to the venin. The narrative on the surface-level is: These people ARE human, but these other guys are the REAL monsters. Please kill THEM instead. I cannot tell you how many times I've seen people say "Violet's never killed anyone in the series, she only kills venin!" The very fact of saying these people aren't human; therefore they can die...do you see what I see? I know I'm a bit more thematically minded than the average romantasy reader, but it's really VERY in your face here.

The most obvious narrative purpose for Xaden choosing to turn is that it gives Violet and the reader a way to humanize the venin, just like working with the gryphon fliers in part two allowed us all to humanize them. After I finished IF, there was not a doubt in my mind that this was where Rebecca was going.

And she went there...a little bit? She's about halfway there, I'd say. Violet has started to internally reconcile with the fact that Xaden being a venin makes it impossible for her to generalize venin any further, but there's definitely still an undercurrent of "he's not like other venin!!" I think this COULD be a logical progression of the story, and, partially, I think it makes sense for it to take a minute for her thought processes to shift. However, I think it needs to be better layered? And I think that when you have a book like this one with such a low barrier to entry, you need to do a bit more thematic hand-holding if you want people to really get things.

Anyway, this was all to say: Xaden loves her, and so, his soul is fine. HE's fine. He's not evil, he didn't marry her just to leave, he's not "team venin". Etc! I could go on about this further, and I think before book 4 I'll be pushed over the edge and do so. But, for now, I do think the direction Rebecca is pushing for is the "cure" being the power of love et. al.

Mommy Issues: We come back to Sgaeyl! I know some people think Sgaeyl breaks the bond with Xaden as part of his 12 hour plan, and again, I ask: literally how.

Basically, unlike his mother, Sgaeyl isn't leaving Xaden. When he breaks through the pulling from the earth haze, he asks Sgaeyl if she forsakes him, and she says:

"'What is there left of you to forsake?' Sgaeyl lowers her head and steam gusts down the canyon, reminding me of the moment she found me in the forest at threshing. (Yarros, 523)

My direct annotation here is : threshing! Threshing = choice. And I'm right! Threshing does equal choice. She has the option to forsake him, and she doesn't! Case closed. I will say, just as a side note, the idea that she'd leave him for being extra venin is wack as hell when he became extra venin for her. I don't think she was that heated about him being venin in the first place: the focus of her ire at the end of IF was that he "picked" Violet. "You cannot! I chose you!/ But Violet chose me too." She's just a pick me dragon at heart.

Quest Squad (Xaden's Version) I touched on this in response to my other ask about the ending, but now we're gonna go beat by beat.

Xaden starts what I call the quest intro by responding to Sgaeyl's threshing part 2 with:

"'You tell me.' I lower the ice and let her in."

Clearly, this is Xaden showing Sgaeyl whatever plan he's been concocting in his head.

Sgaeyl's response:

"Her next breath is laced with sulfur, and her eyes widen. 'You cannot mean to--'"

Now, this is just needlessly vague to make sure we buy the next book. Like we weren't going to anyway. Thank you for extorting me, Red Tower. However, at the very least, it reveals that his plan is, shall we say, problematic? Controversial? Illegal?

Then, we have (from Xaden)

"'You saw what happened. It is the only way.' She glances over her shoulder. 'And you think she'll help?' 'She loves me.' 'Tairn does not, and you haven't looked in a mirror yet. The red veins branching from your eyes look like her lightning.' 'She'll help.' It comes out with a hell of a lot more certainty than I feel. 'She promised.'"

Line by line time!

"it is the only way" is mad interesting from Xaden "the right way isn't the only way" Riorson. It could just be the influence of being venin on his psyche---everything feels more serious now, and he himself is more intense. But it's such an interesting switch, especially since Violet's assumed his way of thinking from FW.

At first I thought the pronoun fuckery in SHE'll help/SHE loves me was meant to indicate that the she in question was not actually Violet, but I don't think so anymore. I do think it's intentionally misleading! Again, for the money. But, more than that, I think Sgaeyl is glancing over her shoulder AT Violet and Tairn to indicate who they're yapping about.

Now, how will she help? I think this is a separate quandary than the marriage (hence where I broke up the text). Personally, I think this is him saying Vi goes with him to get the eggs/kill the dragons/etc.

The veins branching from his eyes are intriguing. I know he says he's no longer an initiate on this page, but I don't think he's an Asim either? According to Mr. Drake Cordella's venin compendium, Asim's veins distend only when riled, but Sage's veins are perpetually distended. (Iron Flame chapter 47 epigraph). I guess we'll see? I don't know, it would make sense to me if he was a sage, but who knows.

And, finally, what the hell did she promise?

WAY earlier on in the book, Xaden says:

"Swear you'll sound the alarm if I go too far, that you'll keep it safe, even if it's from me." (Yarros, 58)

This is what I think he's referring to! I know @hockeyspiral23 thinks the 'it' in question is actually the sword of Tyrrendor (correct me if I'm wrong!!) and not Tyrrendor itself. I definitely think there's something to that theory.

A few pages later, Xaden says:

"I'll use Tyrrendor to protect you, not you to protect Tyrrendor." (Yarros, 102)

Not to be a broken record, but again: Intentionally! Misleading! Content! I think you're SUPPOSED to interpret the promise as Violet saying she'll protect Tyrrendor from Xaden, and Xaden saying he's "gone too far". But when you actually look at the text, there's no way that's what he's saying. First of all, why would Sgaeyl think THAT plan wouldn't work with Tairn? Tairn does NOT fuck with Xaden right now. And then, why would Xaden Riorson, president and CEO of the Violet Sorrengail fan club, prioritize Tyrrendor over Violet? He cares about Tyrrendor, sure, but in the face of VIOLET? It doesn't compare. It just doesn't! ("I love you more than this city. Do not die defending it.") He's not winning any king of the year awards with those priorities, but that doesn't make it any less true. I basically already have a post ranting about this, (here! If you're curious) so I'm going to cut myself off here. Basically, we have to remember who Xaden actually is when we try to contextualize this vague ass chapter.

And then, wedding bells!

"'Even if she agrees, no one will--'

'Someone owes me a favor.'" (Yarros, 524)

This is the part of the quest that I think is more directly the marriage issue. This has already been covered elsewhere, but the Priestess from Dunne's temple says she owes Xaden a favor earlier on. She goes on to officiate their marriage. I just think the wording makes it clear that this is a multi-step plan. (How can Violet "help" with her own marriage?)

I already quoted the absolute banger "What even am I? Hers." But I'm going to bring it up again! His loyalty, primarily, is to Violet. Whatever quest he's going on, it's FOR HER. He steals the eggs FOR HER. He''s taking them somewhere FOR HER. I don't know how to make that any clearer, but if I keep seeing people misinterpret it, I'll probably try again.

Agency!

The final bit I'm going to pull is Sgaeyl saying:

"And her decision will determine our fate." (Yarros, 524).

I think this just really succinctly makes clear my 573938503 argument above. Violet gets final say on Quest Squad (Xaden's Version) but whatever he does do, he's doing it with Sgaeyl. I know there's some good bits Rebecca's said throughout the tour that support this interpretation, but I don't think I need them quite yet. Maybe next time!

For now, that's all. I'll see y'all back here with Violet's chapter in a bit!

[notebooks-and-laptops]

"If we use force against our enemies, our allies will remember it": an exploration of the Archon Quest in DAtV.

Not everyone will have gotten this quest, as it's only avaliable if you saved Minrathous over Treviso. So let me start by setting the scene:

Rook has just found a secret list of Venatori plans in a Venatori vault. This includes a list of magisters who have been engaging in 'illegal slavery' and also a list of the backers of said magisters.

Dorian and Mae are arguing over how best to use this information. They have decided that one of them should become the Archon, however, they both have different ways they would go about it:

Dorian wants to 'crush our enemies by any means neccessary' - 'destory them and their networks by any means neccessary'. Maeveas describes this as 'swords and spies and blackmail; the devious means [Dorian] learned in the South'.

Mae wants to 'do this in the open. Show the people of Tevinter that we're here for them'. She wants to make this information public in order to 'inspire'.

Both will support the other, depending on what Rook decides. Both of them want to abolish slavery and get rid of the rule of Altus mages; 'the Soporati deserve a say in their own governance'. They say they have the same aims, but they would go about getting them in different ways.

Except...none of what they say actually makes any sense whatsoever.

Tevinter is Not a Democracy

Tevinter is not a demoracy. People do not 'vote' on who represents them.

Instead, there is a magesterium made up of magisters. These roles are hereditary (although you can have apprentice who take your title instead). You rule, because of your birth, or because you were lucky enough that somebody who rules because of their birth picked you.

There is not an election cycle. The magisters do not have to do anything to remain in power beyond making sure people aren't angry/scared enough to stage a coup.

Political factions exist within the magisterium, but you have to work to gain those who already are in it onto your side, you can't just get people to vote more of your faction in.

So....with this in mind, how is Mae's plan ever going to work.

Mae talks about wanting to do things out in the open. She wants to show Tevinter that politicans can be here for them. But those people...don't have a say. They can't meaningfully change things, or vote, or do anything beyond have a (probably violent) revolution.

And yet, we are led to believe that Mae's option will be the path of least resistence. Mae's option is 'working within the system'. What system? Mae won't be able to do anything, even if the public is on her side. It doesn't matter.

The magisters who are Venatori may die by the end of the game, or they may simply step down and give their titles to their children to avoid public disgrace. Maybe, maybe if people are angry enough, the heirs and apprentaces from other houses and magisters will take their place. But I don't see how Mae publishing this list of people and their backers will get her into power.

Especially in a country where slavery is legal. You know the people who would want Dorian and Maevearis's plans to succeed? Slaves. Because they're the only ones unlikely to be culturally indocronated to believe slavery is a good thing. Those a 'rung above slavery' like Krem, may also want their plans to succeed, but they'd likely have to be convinced, or have something happen to them (e.g. like how Krem's family struggled to remain in business because slaves can do their work for free so the products never cost as much) to push them into seeing all this. I highly doubt most people in this society as is would distinquish much between 'legal' and 'illegal' slavery. What even is illegal slavery? Taking people from other nations into slavery without the consent of said nations? That's most of the nations in thedas then. And if slave imports are continuing then surely everyone already knows that this is taking place and that people are arranging it.

AND EVEN IF THEY DID THERE ISN'T A DEMOCRACY FOR THEM TO VOTE MAE IN. To get Mae in, Mae has to convince the magisterium - and that includes convincing them to let her back in ON TOP OF convincing them to elect her as their ruler OR she has to have a violent overthrow backed by the people. That is the only way that 'inspiring' the people can succeed here.

Meanwhile, We have Dorian. Tarquin acts like Dorians plan will mean another Anders style chantry explosion, with things getting worse before they get better. But Dorians plan is vague to say the least. Blackmail? Okay. Working within his place in the magisterium? Now that makes more sense to me; if he can work within his place that might get him to be archon which would in turn allow him to potentially effect meaningful change from the top down with less tape around what he can and can't do.

But Mae implies Dorian is going to start killing people; 'if we use force against our enemies they will remember it'. But....what? Okay maybe Dorian plans to assassinate some people? But if he does, their kids will just get in. Maybe he just plans to threaten to assassinate people (interesting move as that's what got his father, but I think that COULD be an intersting direction for him) and that's what it means by blackmail etc. But if that's the case, is he really going to get to be Archon for long?

Dorians way looks way more like working within the system or...maybe turning the system into some of kind of dictatorship in order to make it a democracy so that Soporati can vote? Do ex-slaves get the vote in this world?

None of this makes any sense, their plans are so so so vague, and what they pitch and what they want means their pitches should be switched.

Who should be the Archon?

Towards the end of this place, Maevaris and Dorian say that a quater of the magisterium are Venatori. This is the implied quater that we have information on, and who needs to be taken out of the magisterium. But...okay, how?

In DAI, three of our companions (Vivienne, Leliana and Cassandra) are up for the role of Divine. But the reason they're up for the role despite all three of them being in some way a break with the past, is that there is nobody else. Everyone else who was up for the position died in the conclave explosion. All three of them have also gained large leaps forward in their reputation based on their actions in the inquistion.

But in DAtV....even if that quater are all killed in the final fight with the Gods, that means 75% are left over. I can see perhaps Dorian - who has maintained his seat in the Magisterium - being able to elbow himself into that power vaccum, win over the 75% and become the Achon. But Mae has been kicked out of the Magisterium already. She's lost her title. How is she going to get herself back in. As detailed above, it won't be by democracy. The Viper talks about her 'triumphent return' but nobody has actually given me a plan to get her to that triumphent return???

Basically; it makes very little sense that these two people are up for archon, even now we know the current one is dead. The archon is usually an inherrited title, either by blood or by being the apprentace of the previous Archon. The Archon can be voted in by only the magisterium if the archon dies without either of these things, however, so that's what they're going for here. But why would any of these 75% of magisters vote for Mae or Dorian?

And even if you argue that the Venatori list had the illegal dealings of more than just those 25% so Dorian and Mae could blackmail them for the position; firstly, Mae has already said she's not blackmailing anyone. So that leaves only Dorian. But the Magisters can pass their seats onto their children, instead of giving in to Dorians demands. That way even if Dorian exposes them, they're no longer in the Magisterium. Similarly, it surely is well known that the magisterium are dealing in 'illegal slavery' and surely even if it isn't, there are ways those within the Magisterium can use their money and power to pretend that they weren't involved with that. Polticians in the real world get away with these lies all the time!

Violence and Thedas

I'm not planning on making this point at length, but I do think the quote I opened this with also makes no sense for Dragon Age. 'If we use force against our enemies, our allies will remember it'.

In a game. Which is. About fighting enemies.

Like, this is a fighting game. We fight our enemies in this game. We don't sit down for tea with the Gods. We don't invite the red templars over to discuss politics. We don't ask the darkspawn if there's any way they won't do what they want.

We've been killing venatori for the WHOLE GAME by this point. We've ALREADY been using force.

I guess that the writers are trying to make a distinction between political violence vs. the rest of the game but uhhh. That doesn't really work either, especially in a game series which has had political violence pretty much at its core (we start with a game about CIVIL WAR and then move swiftly into a game where one of your companions commits an act of terrorism to inspire an overthrow of an unjust system) but also like. The implication that all groups who are bad are just 'evil' and have no motivations beyond 'power' and 'being evil' is dumb, and dragon age games used to be better than that. The Venatori, the Antam, the Crows, Butcher, Illario, The Grey Wardens, all of these people are playing with politics. Dragon Age games used to know this, they ahve a whole thing about 'the great game'.

But. Whatever. I said I wouldn't labour this point and I won't, but this quote makes no sense in a game where we've already spent the whole time using force.

(and also...isn't trying to abolish slavery perhaps a good thing to use force against? This quote implies that both the enemies (pro-slavery) and the allies (anti-slavery) have a similar moral standing which uhhhh i wouldn't say is true)

Why did this happen; some closing remarks

DAtV is vague enough about Tevinter politics that I feel you could, without knowledge of the previous games lore/the codexes believe the following points

slavery is a fringe practice in Tevinter

tevinter is a democracy

In this set of circumstances, their plans would make a lot more sense. Mae really could hope to get people on her side to vote out magisters who are engaging in 'illegal slavery' and other unmentioned things. She really could try and get elected on the promise of honesty and doing things differently, but still working within the system and eventually being Archon.

But this isn't the case. What's happening here is 21st century Demoractic (American Centric) politics are being placed onto a system which is essentially ancient Rome with absolutely no effort to try and make either confirm.

These days there are serious questions surrounding democracy, truth and lies we tell the people, whether its better to work 'behind the scenes' for a better world or not etc. These are all questions that have becoming increasingly relevant in the rise of the far right since 2016. And those who think the system need to change have MANY MANY arguments about whether we need to burn down the system, or whether we need to work within the system and with the backing of everyone to achieve our aims.

But that doesn't work in Tevinter. It doesn't mean anything.

I think the writers were trying to short hand some contempary politics into this world, were purposely vague about the parts of tevinter that don't fit that mould, tried to act like slavery was some form of modern discrimination that can be easily brushed to one side, and then just...released the game like that, with this choice.

But thinking about it for more than 5 seconds makes it SO STUPID. I literally spent ALL of that cutscene going 'wait what??? huh???' i watched it back three times before I understood what they were doing and why Mae and Dorians views were supposed to make sense before I wrote this post.

Another example of the writers not taking established lore/politics/culture in this game seriously. Another example of this game not taking its setting into account. I just. Yeah. This one really pushes me.

td;lr this storyline about who is the future archon doesn't work because Tevinter is not a democracy and they don't actually take into account the political implications, nor lay out actual political plans on how they'd achieve their aims.

[saphronethaleph]

"Pick up" some Power Converters

“...no, what you want to do is to have most of the shipment be something innocuous – on every run. That way, even a random inspection probably won’t find anything. If you absolutely need to break that rule, still have some innocuous crates, but what you also want to do is to build up a friendship with the inspectors. Find out their routines if you can, and test out if you can bribe them to not bother looking – then you can aim the vital runs to be specifically with the people who you can bribe.”

“You’re sure that works?” Dodonna asked.

“Well, yeah,” Luke replied, with a shrug.

“Luke?” Leia called. “Luke?”

She leaned around the door. “How long have you been in here? We’ve been looking for you for twenty minutes.”

Luke frowned, then glanced down at his comlink. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“We don’t know your com code, kid,” Han provided. “You didn’t get around to telling us.”

Luke’s expression cleared.

“I have been going through Threepio if I need a com discussion,” he admitted. “I guess that’s not going to work if we’re staying with the Rebellion long term, though, I really should give you my com code-”

“Not now,” Leia objected. “What were you talking about, anyway?”

“He was giving us lessons,” Dodonna provided, indicating every single intel operative on Yavin IV and about half of the other Rebel Alliance techs sitting around.

“It’s basic stuff, right?” Luke asked. “I’m surprised you don’t know it.”

Leia frowned. “Lessons in what?” she asked. “Farming?”

“Well, sort of?” Luke replied. “Not moisture farming, not that bit, but the other stuff. I guess it’s helpful, and I’m glad to help!”

“What other stuff, then?” Han asked, leaning on the door, then got out of the way as Chewbacca made a questioning noise. “Right, sorry Chewie…”

“You know,” Luke said. “The basic stuff. Hiding stashes, underground hyperlanes, gun running, how to deflect attention from an enforcer without their realizing you’re doing it. Burning out slave collars, dead drops.”

He shrugged. “Farming.”

Leia blinked.

“That’s… not farming,” she said. “That sounds like a hostile-environment intelligence agent tutorial… how would you pass off vital information?”

“Let’s see…” Luke frowned. “One option – disguise it as something innocuous, while anyone would assume you’d hidden it in a much more complex way. Option two – copy it, send both versions by different routes or hide it in two different places. If you’re willing, get tortured, then crack under torture and give up one of them – that means they’ll believe they’ve got everything. Then another choice is to make it completely public, that’s a bit of a last-chance thing but if you make it completely public then everyone gets to see it including your intended recipient.”

He glanced up at her. “I guess you did the first one, gave up one location but they decided to keep looking for the other, and that’s what led them to R2? Or did you use one of the other methods? I could keep going.”

Leia shook her head.

“Okay, I’m convinced you know what you’re doing,” she said. “But how do you know all this stuff?”

“Do you not?” Luke replied, sounding slightly baffled. “This is boring stuff. Kid’s stuff, you’ve got to do it right but it’s a yawn fest. How does nobody have any ideas about it?”

“I know,” Han declared.

He pointed at Luke. “Farmboy, yes. Tatooine farmboy. The only thing that planet exports is crime.”

Luke looked momentarily offended.

“...yeah, I guess,” he agreed, relenting.

[malewifesband]

i see it often that people do not see laios liking kabru, but in reality laios does like kabru! quite a lot for a guy that (from his perspective) he just met! laios forgetting kabrus exact name is not evidence of disinterest in any way--hes only heard it a couple of times, he struggles with small details (unless you want to argue laios also doesnt give a shit about marcille, chilchuck and senshi, he also forgets small details about them. if you do think this, i think dungeon meshi may be too advanced for you. stick to bluey.), and the man has autism. like near explicitly.

laios offers food from their limited supplies because kabru showed an interest in eating monsters, and makes him an omelette so he can have something to eat even though other food was already being prepared. he listens to kabrus criticism of his behavior and mindset in trying to protect falin even though she was straight up killing people, and tries to drag kabru to safety. he watches kabru defuse the situation between himself and toshiro masterfully, and confides in him how hurt he is that toshiro is so angry and how he mustve done something truly awful to upset him like that. when kabru tells him that meeting him was the best part of his time in the dungeon, laios agrees and says its the same for him (remember: laios doesnt do empty platitudes well--if he said it, he meant it).

when kabru leaves, we get three fucking panels in a row of laios staring after him, flexing the hand kabru was just holding, and reflecting on kabrus words ("next time..?")

when kabru shows up again deep in the dungeon, chilchuck is suspicious, but laios is so excited to see him that he throws caution to the wind and lets kabru hold his hand again despite seconds later crossing succubus off his list of shapeshifters that could be appearing as kabru--a carelessness around monsters and danger laios rarely exhibits. when kabru gives his warning about the canaries, laios is grateful. he notices how often kabru saves his skin

when lycion reveals that kabru lied about wanting to eat the omelette laios made, it breaks his heart because he made that with love! he made it for kabru, and kabru didnt like it, and now he knows kabru was just playing at friendship to use him. that breaks his heart, hes distraught, but he doesnt have time to be hurt about it when marcille needs his help urgently so he turns to run to her. he apologizes to kabru and tries to leave again. he isnt listening to what kabru is saying here because kabru was just revealed as a liar and because it doesnt really cohere (kabru is stuttering and speaking in broken sentences as he tries to explain about the dungeons power) and he needs to save marcille

he doesnt believe kabru wanted to be his friend, because who would? why would laios be special enough, loveable enough, to go through the pains kabru went through, just to be his friend? but when kabru makes the intensity of his desire known, laios promises to feed him again, at a proper restaurant --and again, food is care for laios, to feed someone is to love them. marcille is still his priority bc she is in real danger but he means what he says, he really does want to start over with kabru and be real friends with him

once we hit the resolution of the story, kabru near glues himself to laios, helping him and trying to cement himself as a right-hand man, and making known his intent to support laios no matter what. in the medieval manuscript style epilogue, kabru is one of two friends that stick by laios as he becomes king. both marcille and kabru become the people closest to him (besides falin of course), two friends who will always support him, always let him know when hes fucked up and theyre mad at him, two friends who he can rely on. laios did not have to accept kabru as an advisor, he did not have to ask him to stay with him. he did that because after everything, he trusts kabru now, and knows he can count on him

while laios doesnt give any big monologues about what he likes about kabru, its very clear he does, and we know what things laios values in other people. he appreciates kabrus social skills (very clear in the post canon comic in the adventurers bible), his intelligence, that kabru WANTS to be around him and understand him even though its difficult, his strength, and frankly he does appreciate his charm (three fucking panels straight of staring after him). laios really values people with specialized skillsets who are willing to tell him frankly what they think and advise him in areas he is weak in (something we see in his relationship with... i was gonna say namari but its everyone. he does this with everyone he likes. and in the resolution kabru does this CONSTANTLY he does not go a panel without giving laios his professional opinion on how to deal with people).

in conclusion: arent you hungry, kabru? let laios make something for you

[infinitelystrangemachinex]

massages forehead So Ambessa hid Mel away because she was a weapon in the literal sense, a mage. But Ambessa came to Piltover for Hextech? And Ambessa had nothing to say to Mel about her powers having visibly awakened? Even when Mel offered to go with Ambessa, giving her the ultimate opportunity to make Mel a weapon for real? And Ambessa made no attempt to find or retrieve Mel - not just her daughter and the remnants of the family Ambessa professes to love, but also her ultimate weapon - when she disappeared? And Ambessa trusted Singed and Viktor on their home turf - neither of them hiding how insane and self-serving they are with every reason to take over Ambessa's soldiers or just blatantly turn on her as soon as it benefits them - more than she trusted Mel? While Caitlyn (and by extension Piltover) was visibly and clearly falling away from Ambessa's teachings before Ambessa's eyes? (as if getting rid of certain people allows piltover to get rid of fascism but we won't get into All That)

Not only do I struggle to be hyped for Mel's powers beyond how amazing and beautiful she looks, but I can't help but feel like Mel is somehow less powerful in season 2 than she was in season 1, and not in an interesting way. As if Mel's ability to bend all of Piltover politics and economics to her will in season 1 now means nothing in season 2? You can argue that Jinx's attack led directly to Mel losing ground in Piltover - because I expected Mel to have to claw back that power without being able to rely on people who are too easily seduced by Ambessa and authoritarianism, and she would have to get creative to go toe to toe with her mother. I expected pushback to her mage identity that she would have to navigate. But instead this went either unwritten, or was ignored or discarded. Instead Mel is removed from the main plot, cutting her off from what made her the most interesting - only for all of Mel's very real talents, her very real powers and abilities, to be not only translated but REPLACED with magical powers she doesn't know how to control, and by the finale, those magic powers are the only powers that are considered real. Mel takes a backseat to Piltover's governing and decisions, a backseat to Jayce of all people who was not only new to politics mere months ago but made poor governing, strategic, and diplomatic decisions when he had that power. In season 1 Mel stayed off the "throne" but she did pull its strings one way or the other, and she makes no attempt at this in season 2

In my least generous suspicions, Mel was gentled and quieted to capitulate to an agenda for other characters who had to be correct and heroic - or wrong and villainous - no matter what the leadup narrative said, given her powers to help sell the game and set up future shows, and was effectively ejected from the Arcane story with faceless soldiers and a role she doesn't want because she was inconvenient there

[casino-lights]

so. the thing about Illario and Lucanis.

I don't have the screenshots but somewhere in Lucanis' mind, you hear Illario's voice saying "If I was in charge, you wouldn't have to do this anymore." as far as I can tell, all the other lines in his memories are from the game, but this one is from The Wigmaker Job. the story that took place over a year (probably more) prior to the events of the game. it's referring to a scene where Lucanis comes back from their contract, injured, and Illario, worried about his cousin, says that Lucanis wouldn't have to do Caterina's bidding anymore if Illario was First Talon. so now we know Lucanis still thinks about that conversation, even though it happened so long ago.

two other things about The Wigmaker Job: 1) Illario is a lot different in it and in some ways he seems more competent than the Illario we get in veilguard; and 2) we see Zara Renata at the end, and she already has Lucanis in her sights. depending on how much time passed between that contract and Lucanis' kidnapping, she could've been setting this up for months to years.

in the concept art/storyboard frames that were recently released, Zara is hardcore giving siren in the first image and it almost looks like she's straight up controlling Illario via blood magic in the second (imo)

now imagine if Zara was looking into Lucanis, started with the people closest to him, found Illario, and said all the right things. imagine she said he should be First Talon, Caterina never loved him, Lucanis doesn't believe in him and is secretly just tolerating him, he can save Antiva from the Antaam (or whoever else), he can lead the Crows to their long-awaited unification and make them even stronger, he's the smartest prettiest most super special boy in the whole wide world, etc. (if you give this man an ounce of praise and he actually believes it, he will crumble, I know it.)

now imagine Zara, having successfully sunk her claws into Illario - Lucanis Dellamorte's cousin, the only person closer to the Demon of Vyrantium than the First Talon herself - manages to convince him to let her kill Lucanis. he doesn't have to do it himself so there's less guilt. there's no way Caterina would make him First Talon if Lucanis was alive. and then Illario would be in a position to protect his beloved Antiva because if there's one thing the Antivan Crows are, it's patriots. I think Zara played Illario like a fucking fiddle and the game was just really bad at showing us that. I think when her spirit says "he fooled us both," she means he fooled her by being less of a coward than she thought and straight up killing her.

and maybe this is the Illario apologist in me, but I also think he realized the whole thing was a doomed plan after he was defeated. I mean, he shows up to the final battle to help, at risk of his own life. maybe he's trying to atone, maybe not, but still - he is there, and he sounds more like the Illario we see in The Wigmaker Job than whatever we got through the rest of the game. with his quippy little "was that suitably self-important?" line, he's closer to himself than he was this whole time, and that makes me wonder if maybe he wasn't fully Illario. maybe that was grief and guilt and a shaky sense of self and Zara's manipulation and the feeling of losing his grip on the power he never quite had to begin with, all bundled up into a new, bitter, resentful man. I think he was used like a pawn in Zara's chess game, and that doesn't take away from his agency in this situation or lessen the blow of his betrayal, but it does make it easier for me to swallow the fact that the Obvious Traitor Illario I was immediately skeptical of in-game is not the Illario I immediately loved after one scene in Tevinter Nights where he shaves a single hair because it was uneven with the rest of his five o clock shadow.

I think ultimately, Illario realized Lucanis would forgive him anyway. I think it's because he realized he would forgive Lucanis too.

[wishfulsketching]

I think some people miss the fact that Silco loves as hard as he hates. After the fallout with Vander, he had no real friends left. The betrayal, which was not merely a repriortizing of ideals but an outright murder attempt that left him disfigured, may have actually pushed him to become a bigger zealot than he already was.

The betrayal led to hate, that goes without saying, but I'd argue that all of Silco's love also redirected from people (who cannot be trusted) to his ambitions (which cannot hurt him, at least not directly).

I think it's really telling that once Jinx entered his life, Silco loved her more than his ideals. If he had only loved her insofar as she was useful to him, Silco would not hesitate to give her up. We see this was not the case. And, after finally understanding Vander's perspective and likely ruminating on the irony of his impending death, Silco bore no ill will against Jinx accidentally shooting him in a fit of distress. Instead, he affirmed his love for her and tacitly forgives her.

This makes Silco's forgiving of Vander in the au timeline believable. If he found the letter or Vander apologized and told him that the violence was in a moment of passionate weakness, Silco would forgive him provided not too much time has passed to allow resentment to fester. Jinx in the original timeline proves that an abundance of love and forgiveness are in-character for him. He is in fact a character of tremendous extremes.

Sorry for sitting with this for a while, wanted to have the time to answer.

I think this is a very good analysis of Silco, yes. He was never perfect, most likely could be very intense about their plans for Zaun and maybe did not care about if Enforcers got hurt, but that is almost given. He lived in absolute misery and he had clear enemies.

The thing that really made me get Silco was when he was confronting Vander in s1. The way he says "for RESPECT?!" was so telling of his...well, whole deal, the way he looks to the side like he could not believe that Vander didn't get it. He was still fighting the fight but now with trauma! Yay!

I can see him being able to forgive but like you said, there should not be too much time in between the drowning and the forgiveness. The way Vander tried to drown Silco is so violent, I was so taken back by it when I first watched Arcane. It was so clear that Silco could not do anything when Vander got his hands on him, the power difference was too great. He was terrified

And even when Silco tried to escape, leave the situation, Vander attacked again. It's so...cruel?? And that is why I love it. I love how messy they are. They lived among violence their whole life so yes, what's a bit of murder between them if they just talk about it seriously after. And give time to each other.

It's just so juicy that the man who most likely protected Silco his whole life attacked him the cruelest way possible. AND. It gives some nice flavor for Vander. He might be a house wife but he can kill you

[wonderjanga]

Marvel and Pets

Billy loves animals. He can’t help it. Even as Marvel, he’ll go up to dog owners and ask to pet their dogs. There are more than a couple videos of him dwarfing these little puppies and petting them.

Marvel: *turned into Shazham and chilling on the floor with Wonder-pig*

Wonder-pig: *yapping in pet language*

Marvel: *responding back in pet language*

Flash: *watching them* “Huh… When did Cap get a pig?”

GL: “I don’t know. I didn’t even know the guy owned pets- is it standing up?”

Flash and GL: *watches in slight horrification and fascination as what they though was a normal pig, stands on two legs like a human being and picks Wonder-pig up so they can go to the kitchen to eat*

By the way, Wonder-pig also refers to Billy as her brother because she thinks he’s Shazham. So, not only is he a pig, but he has Greek powers and her owner has Greek powers so they’re related which makes her and him related. If that makes sense.

Later…

Flash: “Dude, what is wrong with your pig?”

Marvel: “My pig? What’re you talking about?”

Flash: “Your pig! It looked like a pig version of you. Is it not yours…?”

Marvel: “Oooooh you mean Shazham.” *looks for a second to make sure he doesn’t get struck by lightning because it sounds like Shazam*

Flash: *also looks up, confused as to what he’s looking at* “Yeah? I think.”

Marvel: “So what’s wrong with my pig?” *looks back at him*

Flash: “Me and John saw it stand up with full human autonomy. Do you know how horrifying that is?”

Marvel: “Really? My bad. Well, he means no harm.” *pats Flash on the shoulder* “It’s best not to dwell on it.”

Flash: “I really think we should-”

Marvel: *continuing to pat Flash’s shoulder* “I’m really glad we can move on from this.”

Flash: “Yeah, I don’t want to move on from this-”

Marvel: “It wa nice talking to you!”

or

Robin!Damian: “Translate Bat-hound.” *points to the dog*

Marvel: “Sorry, what?”

Robin!Damian: “You can speak all languages, yes? That includes animals, I assume?”

Marvel: “Yes?”

Robin!Damian: “So translate Bat-hound.”

Marvel: “Well, what am I translating exactly?”

Robin!Damian: “Start up a conversation.”

Marvel: *stares at the dog*

Bat-hound: *in pet language* “You smell like the pig Wonder-pig was hanging around.” (This just sounds like barks to Damian.)

Robin!Damian: “What did he say?”

Marvel: “He said I smell like the pig Wonder-pig was hanging around. I think he’s talking about Shazham.” *looks up to the ceiling for a moment just in case he gets shazamed*

Robin!Damian: “Does that mean you have a pig?”

Marvel: “Uh… yeah.” *doesn’t know how to feel about calling himself a pet*

Robin!Damian: “Tt. Neither Batman nor Agent A will let me have a pig.”

Marvel: “Do you want to meet my pig?”

Robin!Damian: “…yes.”

Marvel: “I’ll bring him over one day then! You’ll be the first who knows and gets to talk to him.”

If pretending to be a pig would make a kid happy, Billy would do it. In the end, Damian seemed happy when he came as Shazham.

Robin!Damian: “You can understand me?”

Marvel: *in Shazham form, nods head*

Robin!Damian: *little kid wonder* “Amazing. I’ll have to ask your owner to bring you around more. The Captain mentioned how Bat-hound said you hung around Wonder-pig. I wonder if you and him can both become friends.”

or

Flash: “What’s he doing?”

Marvel: *sitting on the ground and being barked at, oinked at, turtled at, fish bubbled at, and so on*

Robin!Damian: *appears out of nowhere* “He’s communicating with them.”

Flash: *gets the shit scared out of him, lets out a little yell, and ends up clenching his heart* “Why hasn’t Batman kept you on a leash? You can’t keep doing that to people. You’re going to give someone a heart attack one day!”

Robin!Damian: *mini bat-glares him for the leash comment and starts pulling out one of his swords*

[m1guelsgf]

done for the night

axel kovacevic x reader

author's note ⋆｡𖦹 ✮ ‧₊˚✩彡

hiiiii this is my first fic for any CK character so i'm kinda nervous. hope u like it. i started a pt. 2 already bc i just love axel but i also wanna write him in different scenarios as well! will open my requests asap :)

c.w.

s6pt2 spoilers, drinking.

being in barcelona was a dream. you were grateful that you were able to tag along with the miyagi do's. sensei larusso and sensei lawerence always liked you, especially johnny. being miguel's best friend is a privilege you were happy to have. sure, it came with a lot of drama but it also came with a protector, a group of friends, and some karate skills.

plus, being miyagi do's water girl wasn't a bad deal for being flown out to barcelona.

you were enjoying being on the inside of all the events while not needing to fight. the first couple of rounds you seen were intense. being around all these powerful people made you a little nervous but you had hope nothing terrible would happen like the rumble at west valley. these weren't angry teenagers fueled off drama and angst, they're athletes. aspiring professionals.

after miyagi do managed to stay in the game by the skin of their teeth, everyone was getting ready to go out. sam was talking your and devons ear off about spain and all the things her and miguel were going to do in their freetime when there was a knock at the door. you got up from your spot at the vanity and opened it to see miguel.

he was distressed, foot anxiously tapping with a hand through his hair. "is sam in here?"

"yeah, sam." you waved her over to the door. "you good, miggy?" miguel opened his mouth to speak and his eyes immediately welled up with tears. "what's wrong?"

"my mom..." his voice shook as he took sam in his arms for a hug. "something's wrong with the baby, i need to go back home." he spoke, voice muffled by sams hair.

"of course." you nodded. "is there anything we can do?"

he only shook his head and hugged sam harder.

"miguel." johnny said from the end of the hallway and beckoned him.

miguel let sam go and gave you a quick but tight hug before taking off. you and sam share an uneasy look before going back inside the room.

"miguel's going back home? sensei too?" devon asked and the two of you nodded.

"i need a drink." you said, grabbing your purse.

***

at the bar, everyone just seemed to take the gloominess with them. knowing miguel was struggling made it impossible to have fun.

"what are we going to do now that miguel's gone?" devon asked hawk and demitri.

"we could always have y/n take his spot?" hawk said, giving you a look over like he was sizing you up.

you scoffed. "yeah right, i wasn't even good enough to fight for a spot in the sekai tekai. getting my ass kicked on the world stage isn't on my bucket list."

"i'm serious." hawk said. "if they can't get kenny, you're next up. so don't black out this time." hawk pointed at your drink, remembering the time you got blackout drunk and threw up all over the inside of his car at one of moons parties.

"i'd prefer drunk y/n over kenny any day." demitri started. "at least she didn't shit her pants."

"oooookay." you stood up, taking your empty glass with you. "i'm getting another drink." you saw the way they were looking at you. "my last one. i don't think you guys will need me but if you do, i'll be ready. i promise."

you walked over to the bar, where sam and robby were sitting. "hey."

"hey." sam said and robby only nodded.

"what's with him?" you noticed robby's bad mood as soon as you walked up.

"maybe you can help." sam stood up, taking her cup with her. "i'm gonna go sit with the others for a sec, see if miguel still has service."

"okay." you nodded, taking sams spot at the bar. "what's wrong?"

"everything." robby sighed. "i need a drink."

you wanted to tell him not to, that it wouldn't solve anything but you knew that he already knew.

"get one, whatever you want. i got us for the first round." you took some cash from your pocket. "hey, can i get a mai tai and..."

"a rum and coke. double. please." robby asked and the bartender nodded, getting to work on your drinks.

"it's one of those nights, huh?" he only nodded, peering at the other edge of the bar for a moment before scoffing and turning back to you.

"yeah." you looked down to where he had just looked, to see tory and kwon sitting besided each other. kwon had an arm around her shoulders and was whispering something in her ear.

"i'm sorry robby. she's gonna come around, i know she is."

"i don't know. she's doing better without me." robby took a sip of his drink and looked down to where tory was sitting. kwon had separated from her but was still close. "and i'm here." he looked at his drink. "thanks by the way."

"it's not good to drink alone. especially when you're down." you nodded, taking a sip of your drink. "also, i missed out on the robby who smoked weed and skated everywhere. i hear he was kinda fun."

"i still skate everywhere." he said with a small laugh. "just not a skate rat anymore."

"yeah, you're the captain now." you gently nudged his shoulder. "i don't know how that feels exactly, the pressure, but i do know that you're gonna make everyone back home proud. especially tory."

"i hope so." he took another drink and eventually, his was gone.

"i know so. she's been watching every one of your fights."

robby cringed a little bit. "knowing i've lost every one of my fights definitely makes me feel lame."

"you're still in it. there's still tomorrow." you took another sip of your drink.

robby nodded. "i'm gonna go to the bathroom."

you nodded in return, looking over your shoulder to see hawk on his phone, sam and devon talking, and demitri dancing with a girl. when you turned back to where robby was sitting, kwon was in his seat.

"hi."

"hello." you were playing with your straw.

"what are you drinking?"

"a mai tai." your responses were dry but kwon wasn't backing off.

"do you want to dance?" he offered his hands but you shook your head, backing away a little.

"no, thanks."

"what? you're only miyagi do's little girlfriend? not for the rest of us?" kwon leaned in closer. "i can treat you better than keene."

"leave me alone, kwon."

"hey." robby's voice came from behind you.

kwon only scoffed and backed up. "someone's waiting for me anyways." he stood up. "i promise i'll keep her warm tonight, keene." he said before leaving the bar.

"are you okay?"

"i need some air." you stood up and went outside, leaving your friends at the bar. you felt bad for leaving robby alone but you couldn't be there anymore.

you felt the effects of the alcohol as you walked down to the beach. your head was spinning. you stopped and took a seat near the shore, sighing as you looked out to the water.

and then you saw him.

axel kovacevic.

he had been destroying his opponents on the mat. nobody's been able to land a point on him. he was one of the strongest competitors. he was stoic too, especially now as he was practicing his kata about 10 feet away from you. in the moonlight, by the ocean, with the alcohol making your perspective soft, he wasn't robotic. he was focused. until he caught you staring at him.

you made eye contact and immediately looked down at your lap. you waited about 5 seconds to check if he was still looking and he was full on staring. it was awkward. he wasn't looking at you as a threat, but with curiosity.

the two of you observed each other for a silent minute before you decided to say something. "hi." you waved and he didn't say anything in return. "you're axel right?" he nodded. "i'm y/n. i liked the kata you were doing."

"i'm not supposed to speak with opponent." he turned away from you and you stood up.

"i'm not your opponent. i'm not even fighting in the tournament. more like, emergency backup." you smiled, watching the corner of his lips tug upwards.

"why aren't you fighting?" he asked curiously, taking a step closer to you.

"i'm not really a fighter like my friends are." you shrugged. "you're great though."

"i'm alright." he leaned over to pick up his shirt and revealed bruises on his back. the sight made you wince.

"what happened?"

"bo staff competition."

"nobody has been able to land a point on you yet." you looked at him and he had a sort of an embarrassed look. "i know about... your sensei. one of my friends saw. it's not right. you should be out with your team, not practicing alone."

"there's always time for practice. my sensei wants me to be the best. it's because of him i never lose."

"doesn't make it right." you responded. "your entire dojo is pretty great though, i have to admit."

"you're pretty." axel stopped himself. your face was on fire and so was his. "your dojo's pretty good too."

"thanks. do you wanna walk with me? back to the hotel?" you asked, rocking on your heels. axel looked around and nodded and you both took off into the night.

"how long have you been fighting for?" you asked.

"ever since i was a kid. what about you?"

"only a couple years. after one of my friends got really hurt, i decided i had to get serious about learning. he had been teaching me some stuff but when it happened i just had to join a dojo. it was actually... cobra kai."

axel looked at you in disbelief. "you were in cobra kai?"

"yeah. after miguel got hurt, i was really angry and i took it out on everyone."

"miguel..."

"he was the original cobra kai." you remembered when miguel excitedly showed you his first gi. "it's a long story though. those sensei's, silver. they put me and all my friends through hell. so i know what its like to have a sensei do anything to make you the best, even hurt you."

axel couldn't say anything, he could only look at you with wonder. "is that why you don't fight anymore?"

"kind of. i don't know. i'm just not as angry as i used to be. i feel like my anger was the only reason i was ever good and i don't wanna live like that." you shrugged.

"i understand." he nodded. "i love karate but i don't want to be a robot all the time." you shook your head and opened your mouth to speak but he interrupted. "i hear what everyone says. they call me a monster, a machine. sometimes i just want to be axel." you nodded, this time you didn't have anything to say. "that's why i like to travel. i get to disappear in each city whenever i'm not fighting."

"how many cities have you been to?"

"a lot." he chuckled and listed all the cities and countries he's been to. you listened in awe. "what about you?"

"i've never really left california." you responded. "but after being here, i'd love to see everything. the sagrada familia makes me feel small but not in a scary way. it's like a monument to the great things humans can do."

"how cute!" a familiar voice interrupted. "little rival team playtime, huh?" kwon and another cobra kai came from around the corner. "thought you were only for miyagi do to play with."

"and i thought i told you to leave me alone." you tried to push past them but they blocked the path. you could smell the alcohol on kwons breath as he spoke. "just let us go."

"what's the magic word?" kwon asked, leaning in closer to you.

"move." you responded bluntly, not wanting anything else to do with this.

"wrong." kwon scoffed and shook his head. he glanced over your shoulder and you were sure someone was behind you.

"we just want to go back to the hotel." you weren't planning on giving kwon what he wanted.

"okay. you can go, only if you say please." kwon was in your face again, smug smile plastered on his face.

before you knew it, the other cobra kai kicked axel. it barely affected him as he shot into action to defend the both of you.

"come on, hit me. show me why they brought you here." kwon tapped his cheek and you were about to raise your arm when you were grabbed from behind. you elbowed whoever grabbed you multiple times before being able to slither out and kick him across the face. at the same time, axel shoved the other cobra kai into kwon. "okay come on. i'll take you both."

the sound of sirens took everyone but kwon out of the fight. he was still pressing axel and had to be taken away by his teammates.

"come on, let's go."

the two of you bolted back to the beach. after catching your breath, you started laughing a little.

"what?" axel asked.

"that guy kicked you and you barely moved. you have a strong base."

axel looked away from you, a smile spreading across his face. "thanks. that was a nice roundhouse."

"thanks, axel." you smiled at him and then looked out at the ocean. when you looked back at him, he was staring. no, he was admiring you. "what?"

axel said nothing, he only reached to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. his hand brushed against your face and you leaned into the touch.

and then he kissed you.

and you kissed him back. it was perfect. he was cradling your face with one hand, pulling you closer by your waist with the other. his mouth moved against yours softly and romantically. it was sweet. he didn't want anything other than to kiss you and you were happy to oblige and let yourself be putty in his hands.

but then your head started spinning again. you pulled away abruptly, taking a deep breath as you came up for air. the alcohol, the running, and the kissing were all making you dizzy. "axel i-."

"i'm sorry, i should go. already after curfew." axel took off running down the beach.

"wait, axel!" you called out after him but he was gone. you felt terrible as you went back inside the bar to meet with your team. everyone was already heading out and robby was nowhere to be seen. you figured he had went back to the hotel and hoped he would be fine. everyone else on the other hand would be dealing with their drama for a minute, including yourself.

[scientia-rex]

I feel like disappointment in Biden is baffling to me because he was always a disappointment. He was the asshole who got to ride to power on the coattails of a better man. He told bizarre and repeated lies (despite getting caught at it and his team telling him not to) about having a Welsh coal miner dad when he did not and he stole that story from actual Welsh people. I read a profile of him years back that pointed this out and told the story of the time he straight up ignored good advice from an expert not to plant a certain kind of tree too close together and flew a bunch of them out to plant, at night because he was just too fucking excited about it, and they all died. He’s not a smart man! He’s charismatic ish and lacks principles and as far as I can tell doesn’t really care about abortion rights or a lot of things we’d consider pretty critical to preserving freedom. I sincerely thought he couldn’t become President because there were so many obviously better candidates in the pool. I underestimated the sexism and antisemitism in American politics, and when he became the candidate in 2020 I gritted my teeth and voted for him because the alternative was a man who is not only an idiot but also profoundly dangerous. Trump is not ha-ha crazy, he’s Mussolini crazy. He is not dangerous because he’s stupid, although that doesn’t help; he’s dangerous because he does not care about anyone except himself under any circumstances and if that means he lets the far right push us straight into forced birth for white women and sterilization for women of color he’s going to do that. If that means conversion therapy for queers and death penalty for homosexual acts he’s going to do that. He has literally no limits. If he gets back into power, a whole lot of people are going to die, again. It’s not a hypothetical because it happened the first time and he’s only going to get worse.

I am not, never have been, and never will be a fan of Biden. To pretend that he and Trump are in any way equivalent is wrong at best and another goddamn Russian psy-op at worst. To pretend that a third party candidacy is viable in the US is to completely ignore every election of your lifetime and your parents’ lifetimes, and to further ignore the lesson of Ross Perot.

You cannot save Palestinians by not voting for Biden in November; the best you can do is chip away at his margin, and the worst you can do is see Trump elected so he can decide to do the worst possible thing in ever circumstance. Biden has Palestinian blood on his hands and watching this when we could have had Bernie or Elizabeth Warren instead is maddening. (I would have preferred Hillary to Trump, but I don’t think she’d be any different than Biden here. They’re both old-school politicians.)

I hate everything about this, and I hate that saying “maybe don’t put the man who literally said he would kill his political enemies in power” is seen as supporting genocide. It’s acknowledging reality. Joe Biden as a person can eat rocks for all I care. I was kind of hoping he’d die sooner in his term so we’d have time to get used to and then vote for President Harris. (Remember when the line was “she’s a cop, don’t vote for her”? Funny how there’s always a reason not to vote for a woman or a person of color or someone you just “don’t like” and can’t put a finger on why except she “seems angry.” Oh does she. How would she not? When Michelle fucking Obama, the picture of grace , STILL got called angry for having the nerve to be a Black woman with an opinion? When Hillary Clinton lost to a man with no political experience to her decades and who openly discussed sexually assaulting women? Would you have voted for President Harris? Or would you let Trump win again because you don’t LIKE her personally and she’s made decisions and statements you disagree with?)

Biden has both less power than his critics give him credit for and more power than his fans give him credit for. He needs to do more to pressure Israel and although it’s a delicate diplomatic situation I’d rather see us fuck up our diplomatic relationship with Israel than watch more Palestinians get murdered for things like “wanting to eat” and “existing.” The line has been crossed, and he doesn’t see it. Because he wasn’t the best person for the job. Because they didn’t get elected, because of sexism/antisemitism/racism. Hell, I have no idea what bootlicker Pete Buttegieg would have done here, but I’d have given him a try. But no. We got Biden and we’re stuck with this reality where you can be as leftist as you want and still have to look at the situation and decide whether you’re comfortable contributing to a Trump victory through inaction. I want socialism—I want every single person on Earth to have clean drinking water, enough safe food, shelter, medical care, and education—and I’m going to vote for Biden, pissy as it makes me, because the only actual alternative is so, so much worse, for me personally as both a woman and a queer, and for everyone in America and the rest of the world who Trump would find reasons to hurt. What do you think the man who openly and repeatedly praises dictators is going to do when those dictators massacre their own people? Yes, we need to care about this genocide now. We also need to care about all of the other people who are at real risk, both at home and abroad. Would a Trump government agree to fund military intervention in Haiti without insisting on it being a colonial exercise in power? Would a Trump government roll back the restrictions on discriminating against transgender patients in healthcare? How would Trump respond if Orban started dragging people into the streets and shooting them en masse? How would Trump respond if China finally went for it and invaded Taiwan? There are more lives at stake here than mine or yours or even those of the Palestinians, who have deserved better for literally decades and are being mass killed in ways that should result in immediate sanctions, a war crimes trial, and the execution of Netanyahu.

The world deserves better from you than complicity in a Trump victory.

[ennn]

On Writing Rio Vidal

So @trickofthelights did a great post on things to take note of when writing Agatha Harkness in fic and I figured I could do one for my girl if some folk are interested.

Now I do see that getting a handle on Rio can be tricky because she only has so much screentime and every time she pops up we see a different side to her character. That said, here's some fundamentals I see for portraying Rio:

Disclaimer: I'm not a cop. Fic writing is for fun. This is entirely about canon-consistency, which can also apply to AUs. If you want to write an original romance novel inspired more by the actors than their AAA characters, hey you do you.

Rio is powerful and knows it

Canonical Rio literally embodies power. She's Death and even gods die. She is one of the most powerful entities in the universe and she knows it. It's essentially who she is. Power is part of her being.

In non-magic AUs where Rio is human, the show literally serves up Special Agent Rio Vidal as a handy reference point to work with. She's an FBI agent with the power of a higher authority, amazing at her job, and she owns it.

I find it quite jarring when AU fics have Rio set up as someone needing saving, or someone seriously lacking in confidence. Even if you're doing a high school or coffeeshop AU, Rio Vidal needs to know she's hot shit in some domain. She doesn't need to have her life together but you gotta have that sense of power and self-assurance somewhere in her life.

Because when it comes to writing canon-consistent Agatha/Rio, this is fundamental to Agatha's attraction to Rio because Agatha is attracted to power.

Like yes, I know it's Aubrey Plaza but it is essentially Rio's power that compels Agatha to give her a second look. Canonically, it's Rio's inability to die that allows them to have a relationship. Not beauty, not a winning personality. They're able to match each other’s energy, to clash and survive each other.

Rio is lawful first, chaotic second

An all-powerful character who can do anything is pretty boring, which is why when it comes to Rio "with great power comes great responsibility" but in her case it's literal and on a cosmic level. Canonically Rio's power is limited by certain rules she has to follow.

The whole tragedy at the crux of Rio as a character is that her identity is her purpose is her function is her duty is her job. As unpredictable as she seems, Rio literally describes herself as "the natural order of all things".

It's interesting that in the Zoom call interview Plaza mentions Puck when describing how Rio acts in the show because I find the fey a helpful reference when framing Rio as a character. Yes, Rio can cause lots of chaos but she has very specific rules she's obligated to follow. Everything beyond that however is fair game.

In non-magic AUs, this doesn't have to mean Rio has a literal job or profession that she values highly (although it can). It could be a personal mission, a set of principles, a duty to certain people or an organisation. Regardless there should be a method to Rio's madness.

And when it comes to writing canon-consistent Agatha/Rio, this is a delightful contrast because Agatha's such a rule-breaker ("So you broke the rules, big deal!") and a cheater ("You can't cheat Agatha / Says who!").

There are sharp edges to Rio's character

I sometimes joke that in AU fics the best way to help ensure canon-consistency is to give Rio a knife. It's funny because it's kinda true?

There is a darkness to Rio as a character that if ignored, I think does a disservice to her. Canonically, she's the balance of life and death, the cycle of decay and rebirth, the ugly and beautiful, violent and soft.

I think very romantic or domestic AUs do come with the risk of making Rio too soft, too patient, too kind. Which is not to say she can't be those things—you could argue that anyone who chooses to put up with Agatha Harkness certainly has those qualities in no small amount—but it's the contrast that I think makes Rio interesting as a character.

Consider Rio's capacity for love contrasted with her viciousness, her patience with her pettiness, her restraint with her rage.

There's probably more where this came from, but these ones seem to the main ones that stick out. And look, I'm a fan and I get that it's tempting to pull from the other roles Plaza has played, and we only see so much of Rio (I mean, consider how much of Agatha we got to see from Wandavision before AAA) and AUs are meant to be a playground—but there does come a point where a character just doesn't seem like Rio Vidal.

[luvyeni]

( SPOOKTOBER ) my vampire boyfriends ! 🎞️ 一 钟辰乐 & 박지성 ՞

𝓟 airings. vampire!chenji x fem!reader wc. 1.5k

🕸️◞ WARNINGS. consented somnophilia, biting, unprotected sex, fingering

「 ♱ authors note 」 my second chenji threesome , hope you guys like it , day 2 of spooktober ...

you; chenle and jisung had a special relationship, them being vampires and you being a human, and also being in a poly relationship — not only that; the three of you had a special sexual relationship, meaning any of you could have each other at any time you wanted.

this often led to jisung and chenle going at in chenles office during work hours; not caring if anyone heard them outside the room— who was gonna say something? not only was he the boss, he was a very powerful vampire, no one dared to even come inside without knocking. sometimes chenle would call you up, telling you to wear his favorite with nothing over it but a jacket; calling jisung into the office simply just to watch you guys fuck like bunnies before heading to a meeting.

or both of them forcing you under the table during a meeting to your knees stuffing their cocks into your mouth while the people in the room pretend you aren't there, lord knows what the people would do if they even acknowledged you were there.

most of the time though; you stayed home in the condo chenle purchased for you three; shopping and lavishly spending the money they made, waiting for them to return; sometimes you stayed up and waited for them— other times you often fell asleep waiting for them , but that didn't mean you didn't give them permission to use you even in your most vulnerable moment.

“she's sleeping.” jisung whined; he was so ready to ravish you, both of them were ready to use you, their stomachs churning with hunger and the need for you; you didn't help it either, sending them videos of you using various of toys, sending them videos while they were at work , leaving them hard , they couldn't even get each other off, they didn't need each other , they needed you. “i can smell her from here.”

your scent wafting through out the apartment like always , . “maybe we can wake her up.” jisung said, chenle scoffed. “what did i tell you jisung.” the older boy , who was always more dominant than the both of you said. “she said we can take what we want when we want.” he smirked , jisung scratched the back of his neck. “but she's sleeping.”

chenle even though he was shorter than the tall boy, cornered him. “when has that ever mattered? remember when she woke you up with her mouth around your cock.” he kissed the boy's neck. “you liked that didn't you?” jisung sighed, knowing where he was going with this. “i-i mean yeah b-but.” he groaned, feeling the boys hands feeling down his abs. “but what?” chenle whispered, jisung felt the boys fangs grazing his neck. “you want her right?” his hands traveling down to the waistband. “ye-yeah.”

“so take her.” was the last thing he said before he bit down on the boy's neck. “fuck.” he moaned , that's another thing about the supernatural creatures, the toxins from their bites being like a aphrodisiac— which often came as a plus for your sex life. jisung could feel the heat bubbling in his stomach , turning around the moment chenle let his neck go; grabbing the back of the boys neck , feverishly repeating what he did to him , both of them going at it with each other , almost forgetting you until they heard your moans coming from your shared room. “you hear her?” chenle groaned as the boy attacked his neck , blood drinking down. “i know you smell her, let's go give her what she so desperately wants.”

they finally made it to the room, your scent much stronger, pushing the door open where you laid sleeping. “she was moaning in her sleep.” chenle took his shirt off, joining you into the bed , his hands immediately finding your naked thigh , lifting up your oversized shirt , revealing your bare cunt. “no fucking panties , i don't even think she needs to be bit this time , she's hornier than both of us combine.” jisung took his clothes off , joining the both of you.

“let's see how long it takes for her to get up.” jisung started kissing your neck, chenle working his way into your panties , you moaned. “ fuck , even in her sleep sleep she's wet as fuck for us.” his fingers toying with your clit , your body reacting , whimpers pouring out of your mouth. “ch-chenle.”

your eyes fluttered open , meet the glowy eyes of your boyfriend. “fu-fuck.” you moaned as you felt him adding another finger. “finally you're awake , you were moaning like a slut in your sleep.” he curled his fingers inside you. “ji-ji— i’m here baby , i’m here.” jisung kissed your neck. “he wanted to let you sleep, but i knew you'd be upset if we left you out , guess fucking yourself on those useless fucking toys weren't enough , you needed our cocks to fill you up?”

removed his fingers standing up to remove his fingers. “hey baby.” jisung whispered in your ears , his bulge grinding against your ass , groaning. “ji-jisung , i want it.” you moaned. “what do you want?” he kissed your neck. “my cock? my fingers?” his hands ghosting your clit. “no-no yet , i want it first.” he smirked realizing what you meant. “you want me to bite you baby?” chenle getting back on the bed. “y-yes please.”

jisung turned to other boy , who nodded. “give her what she wants.” you moaned , feeling jisungs teeth piercing your skin. “fu-fuck!” you yelped , he released the toxins into your body , the aphrodisiac flowing through all of your bodies , it was fair game from here , all three of you desperate to touch each other. “please fuck me.” you moaned. “fu-fuck , you're so wet.” jisung rubbed his cock along your folds.

chenle stroked his cock , watching jisung hold your leg up , his cock prodding your hole. “fuck , put it inside.” he cursed , jisung obey the boy , pushing his cock inside you. “fuck sung!” you mewled as he began to rock his hips , his long cock kissing your cervix. “sh-shit your pussy is so tight , squeezing my cock.” he hissed. “ne-need more.”

“yeah?” chenle said , letting his cock go. “you think you can both of us?” you nodded eagerly. “i-i can , i can take it.” you moaned , your body needing both of them , it definitely was the bite talking , and you'd regret it in the morning but you didn't care. “fine , you want us to stretch you out , jisung pull out.” jisung whined. “don't be a fucking baby , you'll get your dick wet.” the boy slipped out of you.

“lay on your back sung.” the boy ordered; ordering you to get in his lap. “no , face me.” chenle slotted himself in between your legs. “fuck chen , i need to fuck her.” jisungs body was burning , the feeling becoming too overwhelming. “go ahead.” jisung , lifted you up , sinking you down on his cock. “fuck!” he hissed as your cunt swallowed him. “don't move.” chenle ordered, you both whined in desperation.

“both of you are a bunch of fucking sluts.” he slid right inside you , it burned deliciously as they both moved inside you , “fuck this feels so good.” jisung bucked into you , his cock was longer , and hit all of your deepest spots— whereas chenle was much thicker and stretched you out , neither one of them leaving you satisfied. “fu-fuck.”

you felt another piercing pain into your neck as jisung bit you once again. “jisung!” you moaned out his name as he licked the wound , chenle on top , pounding into you , never unfilled , both of them thrusted in and out of you. “fuck I'm gonna cum.” you moaned. “sh-shit me too.” jisung legs twitched , his orgasm approaching fast and chenles' cock rubbing up against his mix with the tightness of your cunt wasn't doing him any favors.. “fuck , cum now , both of you.”

with his command both of you cumming with loud moans , jisungs cum seeping out of you but chenle just fucked in back inside. “fuck , gonna cum.” his hand coming up to your throat , squeezing tightly , has he pushed deeply inside you , cumming. “fu-fuck!”

both of you pulling out of your , cum spilling from your puffy cunt. “so messy.” he wiped the blood from your neck , bringing it to his lips , moaning at your sweet taste. “so sweet , like candy.”

“if you both were so horny you should've called me.” you said once you were cleaned up , your wounds all patched up , theirs healed already. “not like you haven't before.” threading your fingers through jisungs hair. “jisung overheard someone talking about how pretty you sound and almost tore his throat out , i can't have people quitting , they're already terrified enough , no need to traumatize them.”

“that's his fault next time i may just fucking do it.” jisung growled. “see what i deal with all day!” you shook your head. “don't pretend you aren't the same , we both remember what you almost did to that human who was flirting with jisung.” he frowned.

“in my defense he asked jisung to turn him and i said i’d happily to bite him , but i might just get a little hungry and drain him of all his blood.”

©LUVYENI