#we’ll see what born again gives us

[rev-wrath]

He is very pretty. I have no clue how far you are into the fic but that sounds relatively early.

Matt wonders. He’ll never actually know what he could have done differently to change it. If anything. Maybe R was just like that. Lord knows Matt’s like that sometimes. Bruce certainly is. (Excellent names, beloved)

Bruce worries and calls Matt, hoping he’ll pick up. He probably wants to drop everything and be there as soon as he can. Even for a day or two. People who know Bruce know it’s more similar to the tone he uses for his family, maybe even Clark. And the kids are clocking his weird behavior and almost familiarity with the small New York hero. They’re also just competitive, nosy, and like being right.

R teaches Damian, guides him. Taking him along on small “errands” before eventually letting him go out on his own. Bruce can do shared. Damian, who I think is smaller and younger than when first introduced in canon, is piping up. After everything with R and then Matt, Bruce gets even more concerned and wants his lovers closer. Plus one of them has been raising his kid! It makes sense to talk to them about moving into the same city at least.

Beloved, I am pushing the idea further into you, don’t worry.

Foggy talks about Matt’s original outfit and Alfred is nodding along, so Foggy asks if Bruce had a similar thing in the beginning. It’s good to keep each other updated so they have a better idea of what’s going on there. Helpful if one is also out of town or in desperate need of help their vigilantes won’t ask for. Matt only has shitty beer and Tim considers restocking Matt’s kitchen. Dick brings fancy food that’s nice. Just something the trio probably wouldn’t ever consider or receive otherwise. Matt calls Bruce and tells him it’s fine, they’re Bruce’s kids, so he can’t be too upset. Matt just wanted to know and to tell Bruce to maybe ask the kids to not do it too much. But they’re welcomed if they need something. Maybe just call ahead if they can. For Spidey, I guess part of that is dynamics, but the main thing is personality honestly.

The magpie is crashing into your theatre, to throw the fic idea at you.

So, the first part would consist of Batdevil + R who are all not into the vigilante/violence of stuff yet. R works at a bartender in a bar at NYC. Bruce is there as part of a training thing or a business thing (this depends on if I want to lean more into Battinson or not). On a Friday R meets Matt (and Foggy) and Matt and R hit it off. On a Monday, R meets Bruce and they too, hit it off. This continues for several weeks until Matt and Bruce come into the bar at the same time. And the three of them most likely went to wherever the hell Bruce is staying to have a wild night.

It starts off like that, but they're very blurred lines. Bruce prolongs his stay at NYC because he feels as though these two can understand him. And like. all three of them have experience in sparring, so it's not a stretch to have them release some pent up energy through spars, even if R doesn't particularly love to do it.

They all end things amicably bc Matt's going to be busy doing lawyer stuff, Bruce has to go back to Gotham, and R doesn't do attachment. Matt does promise R that he would visit often. And they all still exchange phone numbers.

The second part starts up with a time skip. (Ten years? fifteen? depends on how long Bruce is going to be training + when he's going to be Batman). It's R and their weird-ass Assassin ancestors talking to each other and convincing them to go to the League of Assassins. Thoughts of Bruce and Matt are the furthest thing from their mind, but Bruce and Matt think of R + each other often. Maybe they think more about R because they seemingly disappeared. Kidnapped. Maybe they spent years secretly searching for a trace of them?

Anyways, R goes to the League, sees that it is absolutely not a Brotherhood they/their ancestors built, and kind of. Steam rolls through. Half-adopts Damian on the way bc this tiny child reminds their ancestors of their own children??? And then the two of them go to Gotham (bc after the whole activating the Isu device to save the earth from a huge solar flare but in return releasing an evil Isu woman named Juno, I assume the JL and whatever big name Marvel superhero group tidied everything up and got rid of Juno and had a Piece of Eden/Apple of Eden somewhere) bc their fucked up arm told them that that's where the Apple is. Surprise, surprise, it's in the Batcave. Somewhere here, R kills someone in front of Batman.

For Matt's part, R drops back to NYC after not having been there for years (in case anyone recognises them) bc they've been hearing stuff about Abstergo/the Templars being there and having the shroud of Eden in their hands. So they go off to intercept it before it can get to Abstergo at the docks. Daredevil is there, and recognises R in an instant. (Damian is there? Maybe?). R assassinates the guards/men without a hesitating or breaking a sweat.

I guess the end of the second part would be the three of them meeting? Maybe Bruce chases after this mysterious assassin to NYC and steps into the Devil's territory?

And then the third part would be the three of them sorting things out? (God, this has devolved into a three part series AND an epilogue.)

This is your fic so very much your nest still, birdie. But welcomed nonetheless.

I was about to say how specific the days are for the first meeting of Matt and Bruce but it’s nearly back to back so that’s probably the reason. The several weeks of Matt and Bruce coming in separately sounds so fun. Plus Matt and Bruce finally meeting and interacting. And then there’s the after obviously.

That’s fair. But does Matt ever actually follow up on that promise?

It’s funny, cause technically if they ever wanted to, Matt and Bruce could have just, visited each other. It’s not like they don’t know who the other is or where to find them. Bruce, at least, would probably try to secretly find them.

R’s ancestors are what brings them to Damian and sort of back to Bruce. So they just tear apart the League? Or they rebuild it after? Bruce would try to keep the Apple. For whatever reason. Does R know who Bruce/Batman is in relation to Damian and leave him with Bruce? Does R know that Bruce is Batman?

I don’t have much to add other than Matt realizing who’s at docks will be fun!

That would make the most sense for Bruce to follow. At least in that time frame. Otherwise he would probably have to figure out it’s R and/or what R was doing, Apple/Eden stuff, and follow for information.

Sorting things out with themselves and everything R was doing. (I don’t think this was the short fic I had in mind but close enough?)

[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.

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

[eccentricwritingbaby]

f1 driver's bday posts for their babies

daniel ricciardo, lando norris, charles leclerc, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz jr, oscar piastri, logan sargeant, max verstappen, george russell

masterlist

danielricciardo - it's these two's birthday so the twin's are old now??? stop growing up! your dad commands it!!

view all comments

youruser - their mum commands it too!! they've gotten too big 🥺

danielricciardo - maybe it’s time to try for more … youruser - push two kids back to back out of you and then we’ll talk about more danielricciardo - 🤐

user1 - i feel like just yesterday the twins were born

user2 - ME TOO!! i miss the redbull days when they were so so small user1 - ikrrrrr 🥺🥺

user3 - i forgot how cute they are omfg 🥰

maxverstappen1 - playdate with p again when??

kellypiquet - ^^she’s been asking!! ❤️ youruser - so have they!! drop by anytime 💖 danielricciardo - come to the farm 😀 maxverstappen1 - danielricciardo no.

user4 - i love that they’re so close with p it’s adorable

user5 - i mean they were babies together at redbull so user6 - that's so cute 🥲

user7 - mclaren jumpscare

landonorris - chat i'm afraid the monster's grown now. birthday boy will forever be a messy boy tho, some things never change with age.

view all comments

youruser - my sweet boy, takes after you a little too much 😆

landonorris - and what's that supposed to mean? 🤨 maxfewtrell - you're a slob, just like my godson carlossainz55 - godson?? 🧐

user1 - he really is lando 2.0

user2 - youruser is really living my dream

user3 - NO FR!! cutest baby and hottest husband 😩 user4 - like how does it feel to be god's favourite???!!

mclaren - happy birthday mini norris! 🧡

user5 - even mclaren admin is obsessed with the little lad user6 - who wouldn't be?!

oscarpiastri - my nephew's getting so big

maxfewtrell - nephew??!! carlossainz55 - nephew??!! oscarpiastri - nephew!!!!

charles_leclerc - ma petite fille, joyeux anniversaire! mon monde entier et ma douce fille, papa t'aime tellement :)

view all comments

youruser - aye! she's getting too big! mon ange <3

charles_leclerc - our sweet baby ❤️

user1 - little leclerc is too cute

user2 - remember when she was born 🥺 user1 - how could anyone forget 🥺❤️

scuderiaferrari - happy birthday baby leclerc! ❤️❤️

pierregasly - let kika and i babysit again!!

francisca.cgomes - yes!! let us babysit 💖 charles_leclerc - you almost didn't give her back last time?? pierregasly - not our fault she's adorable youruser - i'll give you that one

arthur_leclerc - her favorite uncle can't wait to see her!

lorenzotl - 🤨 carlossainz55 - 🤨 pierregasly - 🤨 arthur_leclerc - i stand by my statement.

lewishamilton - it's my baby's birthday! my beautiful girl is four, can't wait for many more memories to come with my little love

view all comments

youruser - the last picture 😭 she's just too cute!

lewishamilton - gets it all from you, youruser youruser - 🥰😘

nicolashamilton - my lovely niece! give her a happy birthday kiss for me!

youruser - alwayss ❤️ lewishamilton - she said she misses her uncle!

user1 - the mini gwagon 😭 she's adorably spoiled

user2 - with lewis hamilton as her dad? i think she always will be lewishamilton - exactly!

roscoelovescoco - i's love's you's birfday girl 🥰

user3 - i love that lewis comments for roscoe user4- i know he's laying in bed laughing doing it too 😭

mercedesamgf1 - our merc princess! happy birthday! 🖤

user3 - oh to have lewis hamilton be my father

user4 - right??! the most stylish baby with everything she wants user3 - so jealous of a four year old rn ...

carlossainz55 - mi niño pequeño ya no es tan pequeño, feliz segundo cumpleaños hijo, pronto karting! 💪🏼💪🏼

view all comments

youruser - two years old already! time is flying!

carlossainz55 - flying like he will be on the track soon youruser - im going to choose to ignore that carlossainz55 - 😐

landonorris - ok so when can i babysit again

carlossainz55 - you lost him last time???!! landonorris - WE WERE PLAYING HIDE AND SEEK youruser - no.

user1 - he's so small omfg

user2 - so cute 🥺

user3 - are we all just brushing past lando losing him?

landonorris - HE WAS STILL IN MY APARTMENT IT WAS FINE charles_leclerc - whatever you say mate landonorris - HE'S A VERY FAST BABY lewishamilton - sure, kid

scuderiaferrari - the sweetest baby in red! ❤️

carlossainzofficial - mi nieto, feliz cumpleaños!!

youruser - he won't stop asking for you, abuelo! carlossainz55 - ven aquí! carlossainzofficial - on my way!

oscarpiastri - happy birthday to my aussie beach baby! to many more sunsets and rises

view all comments

youruser - many more sunsets 🧡💛

oscarpiastri - always, love 💛🧡 user1 - the hearts 🥺 i wanna love like theirs user2 - RIGHT!?

mclaren - does the birthday girl need some more merch?

oscarpiastri - we'd never turn down some papaya

user3 - she really is just a beach baby

user4 - i feel like they're always there 😭😭 youruser - gotta give her the best experiences! user4 - that's so sweet 🥺

landonorris - she's just so wee

oscarpiastri - wee little papaya baby landonorris - my favourite! 🧡

logansargeant - hugs and kisses for the birthday baby!

oscarpiastri - always, mate!

logansargeant - baby birthday baby birthday!! a whole year old and plenty more to come from my girl

view all comments

youruser - the buc-ee's hat😭

logansargeant - she had to experience the vibes youruser - and i believe she enjoyed it 🙃 logansargeant - everyone who goes, does enjoy it!

user1 - the fourth of july picture 🥺

user2 - she's so smallllll 🥰

oscarpiastri - tiny baby

logansargeant - wym she's gotten huge oscarpiastri - you've got dad brain, mate, she's tiny

alex_albon - my baby! come over and visit with her...now

youruser - only if lily's there, i don't trust you alone with my child alex_albon - logansargeant are you hearing this?? lilymhe - baby...you shouldn't be alone with her logansargeant - lilymhe thank you alex_albon - i will not accept this 😖

maxverstappen1 - he's five now! verstappen legacy is about to live on as he starts karting 😡💪🏼

view all comments

youruser - he's so big now! fifth pic he was just a babe

maxverstappen1 - he's almost all grown up youruser - do not make me cry right now verstappen user1 - into the dog house he goes

danielricciardo - mate, he might take your seat soon

maxverstappen1 - he's gotta fight for it danielricciardo - he 100% will maxverstappen1 - i know 😂 user2 - this kid is so loved yet challenged user3 - max is healing his inner child with his own little boy user4 - i know 🥺

redbullracing - you're just warming the seat for our star, which is him

maxverstappen1 - i already know, verstappen dominance crossing centuries landonorris - can you just give us a break, mate maxverstappen1 - no.

user5 - he looks just like his dad 🥺

georgerussell63 - my love is now three, but i remember when she was only a fresh few weeks, i love you so much baby

view all comments

youruser - pretty girl 🤍

georgerussell63 - our pretty girl 🤍 user1 - they're still so in love, it's so adorable

user2 - she's so rich 😩😆

user3 - they're like old money old money user2 - i know...i am green with envy

mercedesamgf1 - our favourite cheerleader! happy birthday 🖤

georgerussell63 - the best cheerleader around!

alex_albon - SHE'S SO BIG NOW

georgerussell63 - I KNOW alex_albon - but she's still so cute georgerussell63 - i know 🥰

user4 - she's the sweetest little baby

user5 - happy birthday mini russell!

-

[saturnznct]

he holds the baby for the first time | enhypen x reader

➸ note; hehe my first fic back!! very much in my engene era again so expect more enha fics! hope I'm not too rusty

➸ word count: 2159 words

➸ sangyoon, sam, ella, eunhye, yeeun & serin; newborn

➸ warning(s): bloody imagery(?), breastfeeding, premature birth, c-section, mentions of breathing tube

enhypen masterlist

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

heeseung

So much could happen in the span of a year.

Heeseung couldn’t believe that in just one year, you had gotten married, found out you were pregnant on the same day, been through a whole pregnancy, and now your son was finally here.

‘He is the cutest baby there has ever been,’ Heeseung declares once he’s all cleaned up and laying on your chest.

‘You say that now, wait until we get home and he keeps us up all night long.’

‘Doesn’t make him any less gorgeous,’ Heeseung grins, ‘just like his mummy/mommy.’

‘I don’t know if that’s the best word to describe mummy/mommy right now.’

‘No, I think it’s the perfect word. You have never been more beautiful to me than you are right now.’

‘You’re cute,’ you roll your eyes, ‘I hope he looks like you.’

Heeseung turns his head to kiss the side of yours, and in that moment you yawn.

‘Oh, I think mummy/mommy needs a nap Yoonie.’

‘Hmm, I agree… Will you be okay on your own?’

‘Don’t worry about us,’ Heeseung gives you a reassuring smile, ‘you need to focus on getting rest. We’ll be just fine.’

Heeseung ever so gently lifts Sangyoon from your chest, cradling him in his arms.

‘Wake me, if he needs me,’ you mumble sleepily, turning onto your side and closing your eyes.

Heeseung settles on the couch beside the window, laying across it.

He briefly scrolls through his phone, reading notifications and answering a couple of text messages but finds he cannot tear his eyes away from Sangyoon for too long.

After a few minutes, you’re clearly asleep, face relaxed and body rising up and down rhythmically. 

Heeseung whispers to his baby boy. 

‘You’re perfect, aren’t you? I didn’t expect for you to happen so soon but.. I’m so grateful you came along when you did.’ 

Heeseung knows that you can’t really tell a baby’s features for a while, but he swears Sangyoon has his nose. His chest fills with pride.

‘I love you so so much Sangyoon-ie.’

jay

Jay had not stopped crying since the moment his son was born.

The moment the tears would begin to subside, he caught a glimpse of his baby boy laying in your arms and his eyes would become glossy again. If you’d told Jay nine months ago that this is where he would be now, he wouldn’t have believed it. But starting his family with you felt so right, like the most natural thing in the world.

‘He looks exactly like you,’ you mumble tiredly, gently rubbing Sam’s head with your thumb.

‘You think so?’

‘Oh yeah. Daddy’s twin.’

Jay’s heart leaps at the title. He studies Sam’s face for a few moments.

‘You know what, I think you’re right,’ he says, ‘Your genes stood no chance against mine.’

‘M’not complaining.’

‘Good genes all around.’

By now, Sam was a couple of hours old, and you had been doing skin-to-skin with him for some time. Coupled with the exhaustion of the birth, your eyes are growing heavy.

‘God, you must be exhausted,’ Jay notices your worn out demeanour.

‘It’s been a long day,’ you chuckle.

‘C-can I take him from you?’

‘You don’t have to ask, you’re his daddy.’

You sit up a bit, allowing Jay to take Sam from you more easily.

‘Hi baby boy,’ Sam fusses a little bit, ‘it’s okay, I’m your daddy.’

Sam’s fussing quickly turns into weak wails, and Jay’s expression drops.

‘No, no, don’t cry, please- Y/N, I think he wants to be with you-‘

‘Jay. You’re fine, just keep going. He’ll calm down.’

He looks totally out of his depth, but perseveres, continuing to shush and comfort the baby.

‘You’re okay, you’re safe, it’s just me, your mummy/mommy is still here, see?’

Sam eventually settles, cries reduced to gurgles.

Sensing his small victory, Jay is beaming, more than you’ve ever seen before. Again he can’t help but think about how natural but so foreign it feels to have his own baby in his arms.

Jay awkwardly rocks Sam, ‘I can’t believe you’re really ours, my son…’

jake

Through his career, Jake has been able to travel the world and experience so many unique things, but nothing will ever come close to watching you give birth to Ella.

You had planned for a home birth, feeling as though your home would be a comforting setting and make the process easier. You’d pictured maybe giving birth on your bed or maybe even the couch or a beanbag (not considering the mess) so it was a bit of a surprise that you wound up in your large bathtub. But, you had insisted, at the time.

Jake had sat in with you, and with the help of the midwife, had delivered Ella himself. He’d held her for just a moment, holding her under her arms as he transferred her to you, but even just that one touch had him longing for another. Jake knew how important it was for Ella to get to know yours first, so he pushed his feelings aside.

The both of you were so mesmerised by her big shiny brown eyes and little sounds that you hardly noticed the fallout from the birth pooling below you. 

‘We should really give you a hose down, Y/N,’ your midwife gestures to your separate shower, ‘are your pyjamas still laid out in the bedroom? You can get into bed afterwards.’

She leaves to grab your change of clothes while you and Jake make the awkward first handover.

Jake wanders into her nursery while you step into the shower with the midwife’s help. Ella’s hands peek out from the blanket, grasping at the air. 

‘Oh wow, hi baby,’ he whispers, holding out his finger and fitting it under Ella’s curled little hand.

Ella gurgles and spit pools between her lips, which Jake gently wiped away with the blanket. 

’You’re so tiny, almost feel like you’re gonna break.’

Jake slowly rubs her hand with his thumb.

‘Let’s put some clothes on you.’

Jake lays her down on the changing table, choosing a floral print onesie and putting it on her, just like how he learned in your antenatal classes.

He gently lifts Ella up again, taking her into your bedroom to wait for you. 

He tentatively lifts her tiny head to his lips, pressing a kiss to her forehead.‘You’re my beautiful girl, aren’t you? Gonna do my absolute best by you. I promise I’ll look after you, always.’

sunghoon

This was absolutely the greatest day of Sunghoon’s life.

His beautiful baby girl had come into the world safely, and she was everything he’d hoped for and more.

He couldn’t look at her for more than a few moments without tearing up or going on a tangent about how much he loves her and you.

He secretly (but not so secretly) had hoped for at least one daughter, and when you found out Eunhye was in fact a girl, he was ecstatic.

The moment she was born and he saw her for the first time, it was as though his heart had doubled in size, as if it had to grow bigger to make room for just how much love he had for his daughter.

Eunhye was barely two hours old when she fed for the first time. The midwife helped you with the actual feeding, getting Eunhye to latch on properly, while Sunghoon supported you more with encouraging words and helping you drink water while your hands were occupied.

Otherwise, Sunghoon felt a little unhelpful, standing at a distance and just watching. 

It was blatantly so difficult for you. The feeding hurt, your entire body ached and you felt pain all over, and he was essentially powerless.

‘She’s eating well,’ the midwife commented, ‘she’s got a good appetite.’

‘Wonder where she gets that..’

‘It’ll get easier, Y/N. You’ll both get used to it and it will hurt less and less.’

Eventually, Eunhye tries to pull away, signalling she’s done. The midwife turns to Sunghoon.

‘Dad? You want to burp the little one?’

‘Hoon?’

Sunghoon is taken aback, suddenly uneasy.

‘Is it okay?’ He asks you.

‘Hoon, you should take her. Let her get to know her daddy.’

‘Okay, Sunghoon, if you just lift her from under her arms- that’s it- rest her on your shoulder, one hand here, the other on her back.’

Eunhye feels tiny in his arms. The midwife instructs him on how to properly burp her.

‘This won’t hurt her, will it?’ 

’No,’ the midwife chuckles, ‘you’d know if it was.’

Sunghoon’s head is craned around to look at her face, unable to look away.

’You’re doing really well, Sunghoon,’ the midwife praises, and a few minutes later, Eunhye burps, then whines.

‘You’re okay, you’re okay,’ Sunghoon pouts, ‘you’re just amazing, aren’t you?’

sunoo

‘She’s an angel,’ Sunoo is just radiating pure happiness and pride. He practically has hearts in his eyes looking at your newborn daughter, who was cooing in your arms.

’She’s perfect,’ you agree.

Your baby girl’s eyes are only half open, but she’s clearly studying the two of you. 

‘Hi, baby,’ Sunoo says softly, ‘we love you so much.’

‘We really do,’ you smile.

Sunoo leans across to kiss her head, and when he pulls away he rests his hand on her head.

’Her head is so small, fits in my hand.’

‘Didn’t feel very small when it was coming out of me,’ you remark pointedly, and he winces a little.

‘Of course, I didn’t think of that. You did incredibly.’

You could see how eager Sunoo was to be close to her, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. 

‘Do you want to hold her?’ 

Sunoo’s eyes gloss over.

‘Is that even a question?’

‘So no then?’ 

’Shut up, give her here.’

She doesn’t fuss in the slightest when being passed to Sunoo. 

‘Oh hello my pretty angel,’ Sunoo handles her expertly, like he was made to be a dad.

He lifts her up to kiss her forehead, and lingers there for a moment. 

’She smells so good,’ Sunoo chuckles, ‘like a proper baby.’

‘She is a proper baby,’ you point out.

‘You know what I mean. I almost don’t believe she’s real. Don’t believe we really made her. She’s so pretty, it’s almost like I’m holding a doll.’

Sunoo rocks her while shifting his weight between his feet, eyes never leaving her face, warm smile never leaving his.

‘Yeeun,’ Sunoo says suddenly.

‘Huh?’

‘She looks like a Yeeun.’

You mull it over for a few moments.

‘I like it,’ you nod, ‘Yeeun it is.’

Sunoo somehow brightens even more, so proud that he’d named his daughter.

‘You’re my beautiful girl, Yeeun-ah,’ he repeatedly kisses her head, ‘I promise I’ll love and protect you always.’

jungwon

You were thirty-four weeks when your waters broke, and Serin was rushed into the world. 

She was tiny, barely five pounds. 

Jungwon held your hand throughout the whole surgery, and was reluctant to leave your side when Serin was taken away and you were being stitched up.

Serin was quickly referred to special care, and you were taken along with her. 

‘How does she look?’ you ask Jungwon, while your baby girl is getting hooked up to the equipment.

‘She’s beautiful,’ Jungwon holds your hand again, squeezing it gently, ‘so beautiful. She’ll be okay.’

For hours, you feel hopeless. You feel so empty, and you ache to hold and be with your daughter. 

Jungwon convinces you to get some sleep, which after the long day you’ve had, it finds you easier than you thought.

You wake up to Jungwon shaking you gently.

‘Baby, look who it is.’

He helps you sit up while Serin is wheeled into the room in a crib. 

She has patches on her body, to monitor her heart rate and breathing, and a breathing tube in her nose. 

‘She’s very healthy Mama,’ the midwife says, ‘just needs some help with those lungs.’

‘Can- can we hold her?’ you ask weakly.

‘You can,’ the midwife smiles.

You sob when she’s finally placed on your chest and you get to do skin to skin. 

‘Look at her,’ you cry, and when you look at Jungwon, he’s wiping away tears.

He opens his mouth to speak, but chokes out a sob of his own.

An hour flies by and the midwife returns, both to check on you and the baby. You feed Serin for the first time.

‘Daddy, would you like a hold?’ The midwife asks, and Jungwon’s heart skips a beat.

‘Can I?’ he asks you, and you nod.

The midwife helps, keeping the wires out of the way. 

The moment Serin is placed in his arms, Jungwon’s entire world changes.

‘Hey Serin,’ Jungwon says softly, ‘hi sweetheart. You’re our strong girl, aren’t you?’

Tears roll down your cheeks, hormones and stress of the day catching up to you.

‘Our fighter girl,’ he muses, ‘you are so so loved.’

[seresinhangmanjake]

The Harkonnen's Claim

Feyd-Rautha x Atreides!Reader

Summary: Your brother, Paul, took you from Feyd in a vulnerable moment, and if he wants the woman he loves back, he will have to give your brother something in return.

Notes/Warnings: this is part 2 of 2. Ignore canon ages in the timeline. I don’t know what they are, but everyone young is in their twenties, cool? Cool. Dune inaccuracies. Mention of pregnancy (present) and miscarriage (past). Jessica and Paul kind of (very much) suck. Feyd’s a soft boy for our reader. Smutty-ish (18+) and fluffy stuff, tidbit of angst. I'm sure there are spelling mistakes. I read it twenty times, but you know how it is. I think that’s it.

Words: 3300

Feyd Masterlist Part 1

You can’t see him—your eyelids are too heavy—but he’s shouting. Cursing. With each of his grunts glass shatters and metal clangs against the walls. Feminine voices are shrieking in sync with the rageful sounds coming from your lover and his actions. He is scaring them. He shouldn’t be scaring them. It isn’t their fault. 

“Get out!” he yells. 

More shrieks. Multiple pairs of feet rapidly shuffle about. The door slams and then Feyd is sitting beside you on the bed, one hand brushing your hair back from your forehead, the other rubbing up and down your forearm and pulling it onto his lap. 

“My love…” he says, “It’s ok. You’re ok.”

You swallow hard and peel open your eyelids to see his face hovering above you. A sigh leaves his lips when his eyes connect with yours.

“They were only here to help,” you mutter. 

Feyd bites down hard, sharpening the line of his jaw. He has much to say, you know, but he struggles to release his frustration in any manner other than shouting or fighting in the arena. Right now, he can’t do either.

“They did nothing to help,” he softly snaps. 

But he’s wrong. The women he brought in to examine you did exactly as they were told. It’s just that their conclusion upon taking a look at you was not what he, nor you, expected to hear. 

“Considering the excessive bleeding, she seems to have—” the woman paused; you could hear the tremble in her voice “—lost the baby, my Na-Baron. I’m very sorry.”

Neither of you has spoken about heirs or lineage or combining the genetics of Great Houses. You hadn’t even known of your pregnancy until you heard them tell Feyd that you are no longer carrying the child, and yet, you feel a tremendous loss. You instantly wonder what that child would have been. A boy? A girl? Would they have been a warrior like their father? Or more level-headed like their mother? Maybe a combination of both—that would probably be best for everyone.

“We’ll try again when you feel better,” Feyd tells you, leaning down and pressing his forehead into yours. 

Slowly closing your eyes, you reach a hand up to rest on the back of his neck, your thumb caressing between his ear and the curve of his jaw. “Feyd, we weren’t trying to begin with.”

“Does that mean we shouldn’t?” he asks. “You are meant to be the mother of my heir.”

You sigh. “Feyd–”

“You are,” he demands, but you can detect his hidden plea. “You will be.” 

—

They are scared of him—your son—or, at least, she is. 

With your ear pressed against the door, you can hear them in the halls. Mother and son arguing over your value. 

“Get rid of them, Paul, while you still can,” Lady Jessica implores him. “It’s in our best interest. You have no idea the kind of man she will raise that baby to be.”

But Paul has embraced his new role. There’s no hesitation in how he speaks to her anymore. His words are firm, but well-chosen. He truly was born to be a leader, just not the leader the Universe agreed on.  

“The boy will one day be the Baron, and by then, he will have grown stronger than most, his father included,” Paul confirms. “But we only benefit from having that on our side. From Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen’s need for my sister, an alliance will be formed that could last decades, maybe centuries. But if you harm her, he will come at us in a way his House never has before. And if he finds out you also took his child from him then he’ll spend the rest of his life hunting you, me, Alia…Chani…your future grandchildren—he won’t stop.”

Paul sighs. You can picture him running his hand through his curly locks. He’s done that ever since he was a child. From the moment his little hand could reach above his head, his fingers would be playing with that hair. His mother scolded him wherever he did it in front of the other families of great Houses. ‘Makes you appear anxious,’ she would say, and no son of hers was permitted to come off as anything but respectable in front of their equals. She knew of the man he would one day become. But her nagging didn’t help him in the end. 

“Paul, listen to m–”

“QUIET,” he commands in the Voice that seems to ripple through the halls. “You act as if I won that duel without effort. As if I could do it again in my sleep. But not only did he survive what should have killed him, he almost killed me,” he reminds her. “So do not let your hatred for my sister lead us down a vulnerable path.”

You pull your ear away from the door. How strange that you always knew she hated you and yet never heard it from anyone’s lips until now. You can’t say it hurts, but it does affirm that the only thing keeping you alive is the one thing you didn’t want to be: Feyd’s weakness. He’s saving you even though you’re out of reach. You and the baby he put inside of you. 

You run your hand over your clothed stomach. There’s no physical evidence of your pregnancy, but now that you know he’s there you can feel him…somehow. You feel his strength. You feel his grit. You feel what Lady Jessica fears, and you love it. You hope she lives in fear for many years, always keeping one eye on the half-Harkonnen child that her son commanded her to spare. 

The doorknob twists and you quickly back away as Paul steps into your bedroom. His brows pinch when he sees how you’re standing in the middle of the room. You’re not resting, you’re not admiring the scenery outside your window, there’s no book in your hand—you look suspicious. You can practically hear his thoughts. What were you doing, sister? 

“It’s time to go,” he tells you, stepping closer. You don’t have a chance to reply before the command “SLEEP” weaves into your brain. Your eyes close. Your body goes limp into your brother’s arms. Your mind shuts down. You’re gone. 

—

It’s bright. The inside of your eyelids are glowing the same orange shade as the flower your father traditionally gifted you on your birthday. It’s brighter than Caladan and Arrakis. A brightness you know only comes from Giedi Prime’s midday sun. 

You're moving but not by your own feet. Your eyelids flutter to adjust to your surroundings, and when they open, you find yourself tucked against a chest. An Atreides soldier, once your father’s, now sworn to serve your brother. 

“Put me down,” you mumble, but he doesn’t. “Put me down!”

“Put her down if she wants to be put down,” Paul says. “She won’t go anywhere. This is exactly where she wants to be.”

You’re set on your feet, but the soldier’s hand wraps around your bicep as the group comes to a halt. You do a quick glance around. Sixteen soldiers, suitably armed and shields activated. More on the ship likely, ready to attack if necessary. One Bene Gesserit bitch. One intended emperor with the skin of your brother. And you, anxiously awaiting him.

“Atreides!”

Feyd steps out of the Harkonnen fortress alone. He walks down the lengthy walkway alone. He has a blade at his hip, a shield, but no soldiers. You know they are somewhere, though, hiding, waiting for his call if needed.

As the distance between you lessens, tears attempt to blur your vision, but you blink them away. Your legs quiver, and you would collapse to your knees if not for the vice grip on your arm. He’s alive. He’s so beautifully alive. He’s broad, and strong, and he’s stomping toward your brother like a predator honing in on its prey. You didn't know for sure what he would look like after near death, and the last two weeks gave your mind the will to run wild, but he's perfect. Like it never happened.

“Paul, you must reconsider,” Lady Jessica whispers from behind him. “We do not need him.”

“I decide who and what we need,” he says. “My sister, my negotiations.”

She tips her head and steps back into place before shooting you a glare that you refuse to acknowledge.

Feyd is closing in, but his next step is deemed too close for Paul. Weapons are drawn. A blade presses into your neck. Feyd pauses. 

“Give me what's mine, Atreides!” he snaps. 

He’s seething and makes no attempt to hide it as he paces along the invisible line your brother has drawn. His brow is low, a shadow over the blue eyes piercing through Paul’s head. He hasn’t looked at you, but you know he won’t. Not directly. He already knows what your brother has over him and there’s no need to remind him by giving in to the internal panic he’s fighting. 

“Yours?” Paul returns. “She’s not yours yet, Harkonnen, so it would be wise of you to cooperate.”

Feyd practically growls, pale lips splitting to reveal black teeth as Paul gestures for you to stand beside him. The soldier shoves you forward and you turn to smack at his wrist. 

“I know how to walk,” you grumble. “Bastard.”

Paul clasps his hands behind his back. “You want her; that is understandable. She wants to be with you, too. You should have seen how she fell apart when she thought you were dead,” your brother taunts. His tongue clicks to make a tsking sound.

Feyd’s fingers twitch at his side, itching to grab the hilt of his knife. You know a layer of red bleeds across his vision. His thoughts are a jumble of demands bouncing around his skull. Kill. Maim. Destroy. Take what’s yours. But he can’t. And, excluding his uncle, Feyd hasn’t ever faced a situation where he can’t do as he pleases with whatever stands in front of him.

“Do not push him too far, Paul,” you mutter in warning. “He's not alone, either.”

Your brother ignores you, voice raising as he says, “And your son? You would like to have him as well, yes?”

The pacing stops. Feyd’s lips softly part. His eyes widen ever so slightly and he finally looks at you. When you lightly nod, his jaw clenches. 

Paul doesn’t miss the silent communication. “So,” he says, lifting his chin a half-inch, “are we calm now?”

Feyd inhales a deep breath and huffs it out through his nose. He does it again and again, chest puffing out then deflating like an animal desperate to strike. ‘Calm’ isn't exactly how you would describe him—good, you expect nothing less—but he’s not displaying the same heightened level of fury.

“What do you want, Atreides?” Feyd grunts.

“Loyalty,” Paul doesn’t hesitate to answer. “You are my cousin. You love my half-sister and the two of you will share a child, assuming you can behave yourself. Family should inherently be loyal to family, I believe. That’s a fair place to start.”

“To start?” Feyd spits. “Do not play with me, cousin. Tell me all that you want from me now.”

Paul’s lips curve in a slight smile. The same modest smile he used when greeting guests of your father’s. You have your own version of that smile. They are smiles capable of hiding secrets. Like the smiles you would give Lady Jessica in front of your father, and the smile Paul gave Princess Irulan when he formally claimed her hand days after the duel.

However, there are no secrets behind the smile this time. He knows exactly what he wants from your lover and takes pleasure in revealing the totality of it.

“This war is just beginning,” Paul tells Feyd. “The other Houses reject my leadership. You will not. You will make a public declaration that the Harkonnens will fight for me, alongside the Fremen,” he says. “If you refuse to fulfill this, I will return with every fighter I have. My sister will be our primary target and you will fail to protect her…again.”

The disrespect lingers in the air. To force a Harkonnen to kneel to an Atreides is a power Feyd once told you only you possess. But it appears Paul has forced an unexpected exception.

“There's nothing for you to debate, I imagine,” Paul says. “Not when it comes to the woman you love and your child.”

Paul gives a winning smirk at your lover’s silence—Feyd’s glare is answer enough. 

With a hand firmly on the center of your back, your brother guides you forward. “Go on,” he instructs. “There's no reason to keep him waiting.”

You turn your head back to Paul, expecting a trick, but when he nods in encouragement you rush over to Feyd in a light jog so as not to get tangled up in the skirts you can’t wait to tear off your body. A pale hand reaches out for you and curls around your waist when you’re close enough to be pulled against his chest. A kiss lands on your hairline before his forehead falls to rest on yours. 

“You're not hurt?” he asks. 

“I'm fine,” you promise him. 

“This will never have to become complex, Harkonnen,” Paul calls from his side. Your heads raise to look at him. “Your House now fights for mine. If loyalty is upheld, personal lines will not be crossed. In other words, your child and woman are safe from me as long as my empress, concubine, and children are safe from you.”

Feyd’s Adam’s apple bobs harshly with his hard swallow; another practice in tamping down his rage.

“I’m glad we can all walk away from this satisfied,” Paul continues, grinning ear to ear. “Except for my mother, of course. Were she given her way, my sister would be cut open on the floor and her womb ripped out of her. She doesn’t believe a Harkonnen can exercise restraint and respect agreements. I’m sure you’ll prove her wrong.”

Your dress tightens at your waist from Feyd’s fingers fisting into the material. “Keep your head,” you gently whisper. “Let him go.”

“You have three days to officially announce your allegiance,” Paul tells the two of you before turning to his ship. He enters first, followed by his mother who gives you a final look of disapproval, and then, two-by-two, his soldiers. Not until they’re a speck in the sky does Feyd place a hand on your cheek, guide your face to his, and seal his lips to yours. 

—

He intends to burn the dress to ash in the built-in incinerator that the Harkonnens consider a fireplace. Before now, you haven’t seen it demonstrate its purpose. Feyd refused. “We do not need that,” he would tell you, somewhat offended when you would request a bit more warmth in the middle of the night while he was next to you. He’d strip himself of any clothing he might’ve been wearing and tuck you into his side. “See? You’re fine now.”

Tonight, however, he’s quick to turn the thing on and let it heat up as he takes his knife to the back of your gown, slicing through the buttons that trace along your spine until the material slips off your body. He helps you out of the ring of destroyed fabric at your feet before wadding it into a ball and tossing it into the flames. 

Feyd hums, satisfied, then piece by piece the armor falls from his form until he’s bare with his body to yours, his lips sucking and nibbling, fingers kneading and exploring, cock easing in and out of your core. You cry as he bites into your neck, and soak in the moment for what it is compared to what it could have been had he not survived. How alone you would be. How distraught over what would become of you.

But he did survive. He’s here. You have him. His lips and teeth and touch and cock and heart—all yours. You have the warmth of his breath that brushes your face and neck and shoulders. You have his groans and moans; the perfect sounds he makes when he first enters you and when he cums. Everything you thought you’d lost is wrapped tightly in your arms. Safe. Protected.

He finishes inside of you twice, and as he begs for one more, the ache between your thighs tempts you to remind him he already got you pregnant. But when you study the tenderness in his eyes, your desire refreshes, the pain washes away, and you can’t get enough. You take until he can no longer give—when all he has the energy for is holding and kissing. 

Feyd leans over you in the bed, your legs intertwined under the sheets and his hand at the back of your head as his mouth moves with yours. 

“W-Wait,” you say between kisses. He hums against your lips and when you tilt your head back, he makes a noise of protest before joining them again. “I-I’m ser-ious.”

With his brow pinched, he pulls back to stare into your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth as you search for a delicate way to question the effectiveness of his new authority. “Feyd, what’s going to happen? What will everyone think?” you ask. “Your people? Your soldiers?”

“That’s what bothers you right now while in this bed with me?” You nod. He sighs. “I observed my uncle in his time as Baron. I’m capable of explaining these changes in a manner that will have them think nothing of it. Should an outlier take issue, they will face the known consequences. The rest will do as I command,” he says, emphasizing his words with another kiss. “Just as they will do as you command and as our son will one day command.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be silly. No one on Giedi Prime will listen to me,” you tell him. “My voice doesn’t mean anything to them.”

“They'll respect the voice of their Baroness.” 

Your brows raise. “Your wife?”

Feyd smirks and dips his head into the curve of your neck to lick and suck at sensitive skin. “Do you have objections, my love?”

It would be a lie to say you haven’t imagined being Feyd’s wife. It didn’t occupy your every thought, but it crossed your mind. Like when he would pluck out the eyes of the men who leered at you or remove the tongues of those who scoffed when you spoke. Or when you would watch him sleep and his face was unable to maintain the hard, stony stare that he brought back with him after dealing with his uncle. He’d be serene, the epitome of peace, and it was so lovely that sometimes you couldn’t help yourself. You would kiss his puffy lips until he woke to reciprocate, which led to him spreading your legs wide and stuffing his hard column of flesh between your folds. His ability to be gentle in his cruel world was how you knew he would be a good husband—to you, anyway. You have no idea the fate of his marriage were there a different bride.

His tongue runs over the bite mark and you gasp. “N-No.”

Lips trail along your jawline as his hand slides from the base of your neck between the valley of your breasts to settle on your stomach. 

“He'll be strong,” Feyd says, looking at you. “Our boy.”

You chuckle. “Stronger than you, I heard.”

Feyd swallows, then nods in acceptance. “Good. He’ll need to be,” he says, thumb stroking just above your navel. “The only Atreides my son will answer to is his mother.”

A/N: i'd be open to doing future fics for them if anyone is interested. you can send in requests if you want, no pressure. I have a different feyd fic in the works atm as well

@unicoreads @haehwasworld @moonsoulk @lothiriel9 @landlockedmermaid77 @vintageroses10 @mamawiggers1980 @mrsjobarnes @aoi-targaryen @buckysteveloki-me @pao-prazz @skel-skell @barnes70stark @pekusofixus @vanilla88 @niragiswhore @benwishaw

[hoe4sports]

Harm

Leah Williamson x reader ft Sam Kerr

A/n: Been battling this huge writes block for a month now. If you have any tips on out to get rid of it, send help. You need to use your imagination on this bby

Warning: Angry Sam

Summary: You and your ex-wife struggle co-parenting

-

You look at your watch.

18.53.

It’s now 1 long hour and 53 whole minutes since your ex wife, Sam, was supposed to come pick up your daughter for the weekend.

You don’t really know why you thought it would be different this time, it’s always been like this. From the moment you found her tangled up in her best-friends arms at your home, she’s been someone else. Someone you don’t recognise.

It’s none of your business anymore. You know that she parties and drinks, probably more than what’s healthy. And you know that it’s always a new girl. It’s always the same type of girl too, partygirls.

It’s the same never ending cycle. She gets a girlfriend, then she cheats on her with some random girl that she eventually ends up dating before the cycle repeats itself.

A part of you wants to take your daughter away from her. To never let her see her again. You’re her mom, you are supposed to protect her from harm. But, what do you do when the harm is her own ma?

“Still not heard from her?” Leah hums, her voice coming from behind your back.

You sigh at her while closing the blinds again, letting the last bit of hope disappear. The tears are now pressing in your eyes. You feel defeated. Leah immediately wraps you in her arms.

“Shh, it’s okay, we’ll sort this out” she reassures you. You nod while sniffing into her shirt, standing it with tears.

Your daughter coos from her little bouncer, kicking her feet with excitement. Her toothless grin spreading on her face. You can’t help it, but to turn your head to look at her. She brings a smile to your face. Her similarities to Sam aren’t there anymore. She’s growing into her own person. She has copied down Leah’s smile, just like babies does. Your hair, and your eyes. Not a single piece of Sam left in her. It eases your heart, it makes you feel less sad about your cheating ex-wife.

She cheated when you were just 1 week into your first attempt at getting pregnant. You didn’t leave at first, you did everything you could to salvage it. There wasn’t a single solution that you hadn’t tried. But she didn’t even try. The reality of the situation was that it fell through your hands like sand.

You don’t really understand why it happened. Why she chose her newfound best-friend over her wife and her daughter. It’s something you was forced come to terms with, but that you will never find in your heart to understand or forgive. Perhaps, it’s more that you have accepted the situation without being able to fully grasp the aspects of it.

Leah pulls away from the hug after giving you a kiss on the head. She moves towards your daughter, Ella, and scoops her up in her arms. Ella lets out a big yawn when she feels the comfort of Leah’s arms, settling in comfortably.

“I think that someone is up way beyond her bedtime, isn’t she?” She coos at the little baby in her arms. The sight of them makes your gaze soften, and your body relax. You can’t help it, but smile. They share something special, you just know it. Their bond is unique.

“Should we go upstairs to go night-night, huh Ellabear?” Leah asks as she leans down to kiss your daughter‘s forehead.

“Would you mind putting her down, baby? I think I need a minute..” you excuse to Leah, offering a sad smile.

You know that she’s more than happy to put her down. In fact, she’s been more than happy to put her down since even before she was born. Always excited for all the milestones you reached. Always there, always present.

Leah nods at you before taking Ella’s little hand to wave at you, you smile sadly back at them before they disappear up the staircase of your home.

You look at your watch again. 19.06. It’s been over two hours. That’s where you decide that she has missed her shot for the weekend. You move to the kitchen to find your backpack with your pencils. You reach for your notes before writing down the details around the yet again, missed agreement.

The divorce was messy. Sam wanted the baby. You refused. She pushed for visitation, and time with her daughter in court. You refused. But, Sam somehow ended up winning the case. Of course she did. She hired the best lawyers money could buy. It made your blood boil. Your lawyer recommended that you would write down every time she didn’t pick up Ella, and the details around missed visits.

Leah’s footsteps were soon to be heard coming down the staircase. Her hands eventually placed on your shoulders, lightly providing you with a gentle massage.

“How are you feeling, darling?” Leah’s voice hums. Her soft tone makes your body relax towards her frame.

“I’m just, hm, I think I feel disappointed for Ella. I know she won’t remember this, but the guilt is eating me alive.”

Leah wraps her arms around your waist before turning you to face her. Your eyes meets her, and you share a moment of silence while embracing each other.

“Ella is safe, she’s fed, she’s warm, she’s dry and she has a mommy and a Leah that loves her so much” Leah whispers in your ear.

The statement makes you feel safe, like you are the luckiest girl in the world to have Leah to lean on. To have someone step up to the responsibility when Sam failed. Leah didn’t have to, she had absolutely no obligations. But she still stayed.

“She has a mommy and a mama” you mumble into her arms, “you and me”.

Leah hums in response before your hands intertwine. Your heartbeat slows down, and your breathing softens. It feels safe. It’s feels warm. It’s like your mind unconsciously knows that you and Leah are building the foundation of a future marriage.

Her sincerity and warmth has you drawn to her. How she’s fair, how she never lets anyone get away with anything and how she is protective of what’s hers. You know that she will defend you to the end of the world, even if that means defending you when you are wrong. It’s one of her core values, to never embarrass you infront of others by arguing or correcting you.

Then, there is a knock on the door. The moment fades, and the memory is ruined by the continuous hammering on your door. Your heartbeat fastens again, and your breathing feels quicker and shallow.

You look over at Leah, and see that her fists are turning white. It’s only fair. You would feel that way too if you had something to outpower Sam. But you don’t. She’s taller, stronger, faster and more assertive than what you are.

The banging doesn’t stop, and soon enough you hear Ella’s scared cries in her bedroom through the baby-call hanging around Leah’s neck.

Leah looks at you and urges her head towards the door.

Normally you handle moments like this. But you are just so tired of it. Of Sam showing up drunk or hangover, demanding her daughter to be brought to her. It always scares you. Sometimes, you have nightmares about it. That someday, she’ll drive over drunk and get away with your baby. The kind of nightmares that only can be calmed by seeing that Ella is safe and having Leah holding you while softly stroking your back.

Leah looks at you again while nodding towards the door. The banging is still loud. This time, you can hear Sam’s voice through the door.

“For fucks same, give me my daughter. It’s my weekend! I know that you are awake”

You shake your head violently before tears swell in your eyes. You cannot find it in you to deal with Sam tonight.

“Go” Leah whispers while pointing upstairs. Your eyes widen.

“But what if she hurt-“

“I’m stronger and taller, I’m gonna be fine. Go calm Ella down, and I’ll be there soon, okay?” Leah urges moving towards the door.

You nod rapidly before going for a beeline up the stairs. You hear the door open up as you move upwards.

“Leah? Get me my kid will you” Sam commands.

Leah crosses her arms while looking firmly into her eyes.

“No, it’s past bedtime. She’s sleeping, or was before you scared her”.

“Nah, listen mate, this doesn’t involve you” Sam laughs before pushing towards the door.

Leah pushes Sam away from the entrance before grabbing the handle.

“I pay for the diapers, the clothes, the food. I put her to bed, I wake up with her at night and I wake up with her in the morning. I give her kisses and hugs, and I give her baths. What do you do?”

Sam looks at Leah with a gaze in shock.

“I, uh, I.. This is ridiculous, can I come and get her? It’ll be quick”

Leah grabs the door handle, and closes the door. But before she completely closes it, she looks Sam straight in her eyes.

“No, I suggest you leave before I call the police on trespassing.”

[hgfictionwriter]

Self Control: Part Nine - Babymoon

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie takes you up to Canada to visit her family and for a relaxing trip out to cottage country. Her parents are thrilled to see you and to - technically - meet their first grandchild. The problem? They just won't leave you two alone.

Warnings: G!P sex. Masturbation (r), fingering, oral, g!p penetrative sex, preg and breeding kinks, dirty talk, language.

A/N: J and R are horny, y'all. The rest of the series can be found here.

“I used to play hockey at that arena. The locker rooms were terrible. Oh, and I used to run track over there. And you see that store down the way - it used to be this little hobby shop and my dad used to take me there sometimes to buy models or crafts.”

Jessie pointed enthusiastically out the windows of the rental car as she drove you both to her parents’ home from the airport. She’d brought you to her childhood home a handful of times by now, but she never tired of showing you the sights even if you’d seen them all before.

“You’re adorable,” you told her as you watched her affectionately. “And yes dear, I remember. Pregnancy brain hasn’t hit me that hard yet,” you chuckled.

“Oh and that house had the best candy at Halloween,” Jessie went on, undeterred. You laughed.

“Well look at the size of that house. They definitely had full-size-candy-bar money,” you joked.

“I can’t wait until I can take our daughter around town and show her some of these places. And soon enough she’ll have memories like these of her own.”

You smiled softly at her, kissing her hand before resting it on your belly.

“Has she settled a bit?” Jessie asked as she rubbed your bump.

“Yeah, the drive seems to be keeping the activity to a minimum compared to the flight,” you chuckled. “That was the most active she’s ever been. She either loves flying or hates it. Not sure which.”

“Everything seems okay though?” Jessie asked, concern creeping in.

“Yeah, I feel fine. I’m only at 24 weeks, the midwife said I’m well within the safe zone for flying.”

She smiled and relaxed as you gave her arm a reassuring squeeze.

“Alright, we’re here,” Jessie announced as she pulled into the driveway. “I’ll get the bags. You just go in. They said the door’s open. Plus they were probably staring out the window the whole time waiting,” she laughed.

“Their first grandchild is technically visiting,” you said with a smirk. “Of course they’re excited.”

Jessie chuckled. “Yeah, imagine what they’ll be like after she’s born.”

She gave you a peck on the cheek before bounding out of the car and jogging over to your side. She opened your door with a very satisfied smile on her face, counter to the mild glare you gave her. She held out her hand, which you dutifully ignored as you climbed out, somewhat more encumbered than weeks before and it requiring a bit more effort.

“I don’t need help yet,” you said under your breath to her and Jessie just kissed your cheek again. You gave her a teasing look. “You’re just trying to look good in front of your parents.”

“What? I-”

Her words were cut off when her parents opened the door and greeted you both boisterously.

“Oh my gosh,” her mom cooed moments after giving you a hug and immediately had her hands on the swell of your midsection and began asking you rapid-fire questions.

“Mom,” Jessie chided. She was about to interject further when she noticed her dad hauling the bags out of the trunk. “Dad!” She rounded and ended up going shoulder to shoulder with him, jockeying for the leverage and space to grab the bags.

“Oh, you two,” her mom scolded mildly before placing an arm around your back. “Come on, Y/N, let’s get inside. We’ll let these two duke it out.”

After an initial visit with her parents and a quick walk around as they showed you both new things around the house, Jessie and you were free to get settled.

Despite your protests to help, Jessie lugged all of the bags up the stairs to her old bedroom where you’d both be staying.

"Sure you don't want to stay in the guest bedroom?" She asked one final time with a discerning look. It would be much more comfortable. It had a bigger bed and its own bathroom - a very valuable perk as you now got up almost every night to go to the bathroom - but you were insistent on staying in her old room. You said it was sweet being surrounded by remnants of her younger self.

"I'm positive," you said without hesitation as you walked in.

Even though she hadn’t lived at home in many years now, her parents left her room exactly the same. Her old medals and trophies were still there, old pictures and trinkets of hers were still neatly displayed around the room.

“Oh, I love it,” you said as you clasped your hands together under your chin and looked around. “So cute. I can’t get over it,” you said as you held up an old picture of her and some friends. “I really, really hope she has your freckles,” you went on before giving her cheeks a light pinch, and pulling a feigned glower out of her.

“Thanks for being okay stopping here for a few days,” Jessie said as she sat down on the bed. “My parents and grandparents have been begging me to bring you back forever, never mind now,” she said as she pulled you by the hand towards her and kissed your stomach.

“Of course, baby,” you told her as you stroked her face and pushed her hair behind her ear. “I’m happy to be here.”

“The family stuff’s going to be pretty full on, but you’ll get to relax when we head to the cottage, I promise.”

“I’m not worried,” you assured her as you continued to run your fingers through her hair. Jessie lifted your shirt and kissed your stomach furthermore.

“Okay, cool it,” you ordered as you gently pushed her head away. “You know how I’ve been lately. And yeah, not the time and place. Agreed?” You finished with a look of warning.

She sighed heavily as she leaned back on her hands, arms outstretched. “I know,” she said though her gaze lingered on your body. When you folded her arms across yourself, inadvertently emphasizing your growing bust, she belatedly forced herself to look up at you.

“Jess. I’m not kidding. I am not having sex in your childhood bedroom, okay?”

She made a slight face in mock contemplation. “Well, I did suggest we take the guest bedroom…”

You scoffed and turned away briefly before rounding on her again, arm outstretched and circling the air in gesture.

"You can't even sit like that. Okay? Cause seeing you leaned back like that just makes me want to drop to my knees and suck you off."

Jessie's eyes grew wide at the blunt declaration while your words threatened to cause her blood to pump strictly between her legs. You scoffed further and walked away, leaving Jessie to jump up after you.

“I’m sorry. I understand. I’ll be good, I promise.”

"Mhmm," you voiced flatly. She nearly sighed; she was in the doghouse again.

You ignored her a while longer as you both returned to catching up with her parents. At one point her parents suggested a board game and Jessie went downstairs to pick one out and was relieved when you piped up saying you'd join her.

She matched your pace on the stairs, though she hopped down from step to step. She jumped and turned mid-air landing in front of you at the base of the stairs with a smile on her face though you just rolled your eyes.

"Must be nice to be so spry," you deadpanned.

She held out her hand to you and stepped out of the way giving a small bow. When you side-eyed her and gave a noncommittal hum as you walked on, her face fell in a frown of disappointment.

"Where are we going?" you asked.

"This way," she said, more subdued as she led you to an adjacent room. She turned on the light and pointed out the collection, but turned to face you right after. "Why are you upset with me?" She pouted.

"I'm not upset with you," you responded evenly. The way you examined the board games instead of looking at her did little to reassure Jessie.

"You seem upset. And I don't know what I did wrong," she went on.

You were leaned down slightly, hands on your knees as you determinedly studied the game collection, but straightened now and looked her way, your expression unreadable. Jessie frowned as you looked past her for a moment.

Before she could question you, you grasped her hand and pulled her towards you. You took her hand and guided it under the waistband of your pants and underwear until her fingers were against your hot, wet heat.

"Do I still seem upset to you?" You whispered in her ear as your other arm went around the back of her shoulders and pulled her close. Her knees gave slightly as she was overcome by the feel of your arousal and warm breath against her skin.

"Fuck," she said as her eyes closed as she began to automatically stroke her fingers through your swollen folds. "Oh my God, babe."

"I'm horny. And I want you. And I can't do anything about it," you said matter of fact. "That's all."

Jessie's eyes were still closed as she inadvertently began to grind her hips up into you while her fingers continued to explore. She gently circled your clit and wrapped her arm around your back securely as your own knees weakened.

"God, baby, I want you inside of me," you whined under your breath as you subtly rocked against her hand. Goosebumps rose across Jessie's skin as you softly panted in her ear; fingers on one hand running through her hair while your other hand groped her ass needily.

"Kiss me," you ordered as you pulled her head into you. She readily complied, her mouth clashing into yours in a messy, wanting kiss.

Jessie felt that all too familiar tightness forming in her pants as she began to harden. If you two were at home, she would've undressed you and fucked you the way you wanted. However, given current circumstances - there was no way.

She listened for noises beyond your whispers and moans. Hearing nothing, she sunk two fingers inside of your waiting tunnel. She pulsed at the sharp inhale you took and the way you melted into her embrace.

The angle was certainly tougher than months prior, she had to position herself around your burgeoning bump and she couldn't get as deep as she wanted with both of you standing like this, but it didn't seem to bother you.

While you wrapped an arm around her shoulder for balance, you let yourself fall into her waiting hand rhythmically, trusting her to hold you up and she did just so.

"God, baby, you're flooding my palm already," she breathed as she burrowed her head against you and curled her fingers inside of you furthermore. She was rock hard as, despite your efforts, the odd repressed, high-pitched whimper filled her ears.

"Shit!" She cursed as suddenly loud steps began to boom down the stairwell. You rapidly pulled away from one another, both wide-eyed with panic as you both tried to recover.

You quickly adjusted your clothes and fixed your hair. Your cheeks were flushed, but there was nothing to do about that. Jessie glanced at the very obvious bulge in her pants and at her fingers and palm that were coated in your juices.

"How's it going in there?" Her dad called from the other room. "I'm grabbing a couple of photo albums. Y/N, I can show you those pictures of Jessie at the science fair in elementary."

Jessie was still overwhelmed with panic and before she could determine what to do, you took a quick glance at the door before you stepped forward and grasped her hand. You held it up, locking eyes with her before placing her fingers in your mouth and very sensually bobbing your head up and down as you sucked them clean. Jessie's jaw fell at the feel and sight, her cock pulsing once more.

"Amazing! I'll come check them out with you," you called back once you released her fingers from your mouth.

"Babe," she hissed, though all she wanted was to feel your lips around her length.

You smirked and wiped her palm on the inside of your shirt before heading to the door. You were nearly there when Jessie's dad rounded the doorframe. She dropped into a crouch, back angled towards the door as she feigned looking at the games again.

"You two still haven't picked anything?" He asked as he arched an eyebrow. "Well, come on, Y/N, I'll start by showing you pictures first."

"Sounds good to me," you said as you and her dad departed. Jessie watched you subtly over her shoulder and glared when you waggled your fingers at her in a teasing wave with a wink.

It took her longer than she'd like to admit to recover. When she finally deemed it safe to head upstairs, her heart warmed at the sight of you on the couch with her parents poring over childhood pictures and listening attentively as they shared various, albeit, embarrassing stories.

Normally, she'd be bothered by the tales, but all she could focus on was the meeting of these two families of hers - the one she was born into and the one she was making with you.

You were together in the kitchen later and you sidled up to her, your arm brushing against hers as you whispered.

"Seems you recovered okay."

Jessie shot you a half-hearted glare. "Barely. I don't know how you're surviving." She leaned in, keeping an eye out for either of her parents, "From the way you were tightening around me, the way you were whimpering in my ear, seems you were pretty close." She held back a grin at how your shoulders fell and a faint, low groan escaped you.

You reciprocated, leaning back into her, your breath sending shivers down her spine.

"You better finish what you started, that's all I can say."

"Girls! Do you want some crackers to carry you over until dinner?"

Jessie groaned, jaw clenching in frustration as her mom's voice filtered in. Her annoyance dissipated slightly as you kissed her cheek.

The rest of the afternoon was filled with fleeting, hidden flirtations - all interrupted by her parents without fail. At the end of the night, you were all sitting in the living room watching a movie together, Jessie and you sitting together under a blanket on the couch with her parents on the other.

Jessie did her damn best to ignore the way your hand very subtly caressed her leg, inching so slowly towards the inside of her thigh. She shot you a few, increasingly less subtle looks of warning as you continued your incognito explorations.

At one point, Jessie felt herself start to grow firm and she cleared her throat, shuffling slightly away from you. She ignored the look you gave her.

She thought things were in the clear until you quietly excused yourself. Her parents offered to pause the movie, but you insisted they keep watching. Jessie's eyes followed you as you ducked upstairs.

She fidgeted for a while until she felt enough time had passed that she could reasonably excuse herself as well, also insisting that her parents keep watching.

Quietly padding down the upstairs hall, she frowned as she scanned the doors - seeing you weren't in the bathroom. Her bedroom door was closed though.

She gingerly opened it, peeking her head around the door and was met with a shadowy visual of you on the bed, legs spread, your hand between your legs. You met Jessie's shocked gaze, yours entirely unfazed, your motions not faltering, clearly knowing it would be her walking in.

Her jaw was slack yet again that day as she stepped inside quickly and closed the door quietly behind her. The second the door closed, you allowed soft moans to fall from your mouth.

"Jesus Christ, babe," Jessie whispered as she approached.

"I was hoping you'd follow me," you said. "I couldn't wait any longer."

No coherent thoughts ran through her mind as her eyes raked over your naked form in the pale moonlight. The curve of your breasts shone in the glow, your darkened nipples drawing her attention. And the ever growing roundness of your stomach caught the light just so, casting a shadow between your legs that was only illuminated every time your wrist moved as you played with your clit. She could hear how wet you were as opposed to seeing it, and the sound alone caused her to start to swell.

She hooked her arms under your thighs and pulled you to the edge of the bed as she settled wordlessly between your legs, hooking yours over her shoulders. Wasting no time, she buried her face in your wet folds, tongue wide and soft as she began to lap up the juices that dripped from your entrance.

You immediately let out a high moan, but you both stopped right away, your hands coming to your mouth in surprise, but to also muffle anything further. Jessie waited a few moments to let you recenter, but your hand coming to the back of her head told her the break was over.

She began to hungrily eat you out, her tongue pushing inside of you, circling your entrance, tracing up and down between your folds, tongue firm, then soft, over and over before flicking across your clit while she sucked.

Muffled whines came from you as your legs tensed and relaxed intermittently around her head. Your fingers dug into her crown, tugging her hair sharply now and then before releasing and caressing her and starting all over.

Eventually, you shifted slightly, tugging at her hair differently than before.

"I need you," you said as you signaled for her to stand. She quickly rose to her feet, undoing her pants and dropping them to the floor along with her boxers. She glanced at the bed for a moment, grabbing you a pillow and tucking it under your hips.

"Sorry," she said for not thinking of it sooner.

You didn't say a word, instead grabbing her by her hard on and pulling her towards your entrance.

"Okay, baby," she said, holding back a chuckle at your eagerness. She lined herself up and pushed herself forward, slipping inside of you effortlessly with how worked up you were.

"Oh Jesus," Jessie mumbled, eyes fluttering shut as you wrapped around her. "Fuck," she breathed as she drew her hips back and began to thrust into you with slow, firm strokes.

Your hands came up to your face, fingers digging into skin as a long, soft moan fought its way up your throat.

"God, I love you," you said, head thrown back. "I needed you so badly."

"I need you, too, baby," she said as she began to gradually pick up her pace.

"Fuck me harder, baby," you pleaded as you moved your hands to the back of her neck and pulled her into a kiss, Jessie needing to angle herself around your swollen middle. "I need you."

"Mm," Jessie groaned as she rolled her hips as she thrust into you. "I can't. I want to - God, I want to. But we can't be loud."

"I just want you to fuck me," you told her desperately as you began to claw at the back of her neck. A muffled cry fell from her lips as the sensation, arching her back over you, a hand subconsciously resting on the side of your bump. She went to lift herself back up so there was zero risk of her weight on your stomach, but you pulled her back up. "I want you with me."

Jessie nodded, angling herself again despite how uncomfortable it was, but if that's what you wanted and needed, then she'd gladly do it.

Despite what her mind told her, Jessie began to pump faster into you. The bed jostled, but it didn't creak. The loudest thing was the sounds that came each time she withdrew to the tip before driving her full length back inside of you. A small grunt escaped her as she dug her fingers into your thigh.

"I love you," she panted above you. "God, you're amazing."

You kissed her hard, but pulled back with a breathy laugh.

"How many girls have you fucked in this bed?"

"Huh?" Jessie frowned, blinking as she processed your question though her hips didn't falter.

"I said," you grasped her chin gently and bit her lower lip, giving it a tug, "how many girls have you fucked in this bed?"

"N-none," she responded, a deeper frown etched on her forehead. You knew better. You knew her whole history. Including the fact that she didn't get laid until university.

"Well lucky me," you said, a lilt in your voice as you traced your tongue along her lip.

Jessie chuckled, finally leaning back, grasping your legs and holding them out - careful not to do so in a way that'd strain you. She looked down at you as she fucked you and a smug smirk crossed her face.

"You're the only one in a lot of ways, babe. Definitely all the ways that count." She told you. You bit your lip and she went on quietly. "The only girl my whole family's met. The only girl I've bought a house with. The only girl I've given a ring to. And certainly," she rolled her hips in emphasis as she let her hands caress your stomach, "the only girl I've given my baby to."

"Oh fuck," you said, your voice barely a whisper as you draped an arm across your eyes, "I'm gonna cum. Don't stop."

Jessie was nearly on the verge as well as she did as she was commanded. She saw the way you bit down on your lip and buried your head into the sheets. You were so close.

"Girls! Is everything okay? Is Y/N? alright?"

"Oh fuck," Jessie hissed and you bit back a groan as footsteps ascended the stairs. Her hips stuttered as she fought between throwing caution to the wind and just chasing your high and stopping altogether. She looked down at you and you'd begun playing with your clit, hips still rocking against her.

Her voice got caught in her throat as pleasurable sensations shot through her as you began to convulse around her, squeezing her tight as your pussy pulsed around her. Her mouth opened and she blinked rapidly as she fought to react.

"Yeah, we're fine!" She eventually managed, your fingers now circling around her base and urging her to cum. She shot you a bewildered look as that familiar tightening and rush began to mount between her legs. She winced as the footsteps continued to approach. "We'll be down in a minute!" She called through the door, praying her voice wasn't as strained as it seemed in her head.

You continued to rock against her and suddenly her tension hit a peak and her jaw fell as she began to spill herself inside of you.

"Okay. We paused the movie. Come down when you're ready," her mom called.

"Thank you! We'll be down soon," you called through the door, finally coming to Jessie's aid as she instinctively held her hips flush against you, cum still pulsing inside of you, eyes screwed shut, her shoulders high and tense in the midst of the conflict between her physical and mental self.

When she finally came down from her climax, she dropped to her knees on the floor and between your legs, chest heaving as she recovered.

"That was mean," Jessie said as she glowered at you.

"The cum you dumped inside of me tells me otherwise," you said lightly as you pushed yourself off of the bed and began to get dressed. Jessie kept her eyes narrowed at you as she watched you. With a heavy breath, she hoisted herself up off the ground and began getting changed as well. She didn't take her glare off of you the entire time.

You walked up to her, unbothered, and rest a soft hand on her cheek as you gave her a peck.

"Look at us, sneaking around like a couple of horny teenagers," you said with a teasing smile before giving a nonchalant shrug. "It's actually kind of fun."

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

"Oh my God," you breathed as you fell into the couch cushions of the cottage you two were renting. Though you still had three months to go, your stomach had already grown enough that sometimes when you sat, you automatically sat with your legs wide to accommodate your bump that rest low above your hips.

"Are you okay?" Jessie asked as she set down the backpack from your hike onto the wooden floor with a light thud. She crossed over to you, crouching in front of you and gently kneading your leg.

"I'm fine," you sighed, allowing your eyes to fall shut as your hand came up and idly rubbed your stomach. "I think I just pushed it too much. It's so stupid - that hike wasn't even hard. It was a walk not a hike, yet my hips and my back are so sore."

"Baby, I'm sorry," Jessie said, a frown of concern settling on her face. "I shouldn't have picked that hike. And I should've checked in more."

"Stop," you said, head lolling languidly side to side in dissent. "I thought it'd be totally fine and you checked in; I just kept pushing." You opened your eyes to look at her, offering a faint smile. "I'm not in pain, I'm just a bit sore and uncomfortable."

She hummed quietly and rubbed your hips gently. You winced softly and her frown deepened.

"I'd run you a bath, but...," Jessie trailed off, gaze flitting away. Though beautiful, the one flaw with this rental was the failing hot water. It was lukewarm at best and ran cold within a few shorts minutes. She was beyond annoyed by it.

"It's okay, really," you assured her as you waved her attention off.

"Here, let me help you up. Go lay on the bed, I'll start a fire and I'll give you a massage," she offered. You cocked your head in contemplation before giving a slow nod. Jessie beamed. "Okay."

Soon, she had a fire roaring in the fireplace and you were naked on the bed with Jessie gently and meticulously working your muscles, laying soft sweet kisses on you now and then as she went.

"I'm telling you right now, nothing's happening tonight," you told her, eyes closed as you lay on your side, Jessie rubbing the small of your back. "I'm just too uncomfortable."

She held up a hand in mild defense. "Heard. Got it. No funny business. That is more than fine. I just want to make you feel better."

"K, thank you," you said as you blindly reached down, pawing until you found her hand. You lifted it to your lips, giving her a small kiss before releasing it and sighing as you settled in again.

Jessie carried on dutifully, truly just hoping to make you feel better. That is, until you reached back and started to caress her leg. She didn't think anything of it initially until you hand continued to wander higher up and inward when possible, fingers kneading into her muscles.

A frown settled on her face as she fought off the urges that were building between her legs. You began to moan softly at her ministrations, shifting slightly under her touch, and it was doing more to her than she cared to admit. However, the burgeoning hard-on forming in her shorts - the one that she was working to conceal from you - would give her away. She cleared her throat and refocused her attention on the wall, trying to think about anything but how good you looked and sounded.

With the fire roaring across the room, the light it cast against you accentuated your bump. She quietly observed the faint line that was forming from your naval to your pubic bone and the way the light danced across your skin.

It was such a strange sensation, a tingling in her chest upon seeing the way your body changed as the new life you two created grew within, and the way her arousal grew at knowing it was her who made you like this; that it was her you let transform you in this way.

"I changed my mind," you eventually said in a whine, legs rubbing together.

Jessie looked away, wondering what to do.

"About?" She asked innocently, though she was hopeful about what you were meant.

"You know what," you whined further, peeking an eye open at you.

"...you sure?" she asked apprehensively. "Cause there's no pressure at all."

"Your tented shorts tell me otherwise, baby," you said teasingly. Jessie blushed madly, closing her legs and timidly shuffling away from your prying eyes.

"Ignore that," she mumbled.

"I don't want to. I want it in me," you said resolutely, reaching back for her.

"Babe...," Jessie went on. "You're sore already."

"You took such good care of me. I feel better," you assured her. She gave you an unconvinced look and you implored. "I'm serious, baby. I want you."

Jessie hesitated further, but when you placed her hand between your legs, her fingers immediately being met with your arousal, she caved.

"Okay, but, you just stay like that, I don't want to strain you at all," she said as she took off her clothes and settled in behind you. She kissed the back of your shoulder and wrapped her arm around your stomach, thumbing it affectionately as she spooned you.

She continued laying slow, sensual kisses along the back of your shoulder, smirking at how you began to writhe in her arms.

"Baby, please."

She gave you one more lingering kiss before she pulled her hand back to line herself up with your entrance.

"Since you asked so nicely," she said, as she slowly entered you. You gasped softly as you reached a hand back over your shoulder to run your fingers through her hair.

"Mm, you feel so incredible every time," Jessie praised as she slowly drew back and pushed in again. She reached around your swollen midsection and placed her hand between your legs to gently play with your clit.

"Oh God, Jess," you said as you writhed under her touch. You moaned. "Mm, you feel so good inside of me." You leaned your head back into her and she pulled you closer as she pushed deeper inside of you.

She kissed along your back softly, your body rocking within her embrace as she made love to you in the warm glow of the nearby fire.

Eventually, Jessie propped herself up on her forearm to look down at you. As nice as it was to hold you in her arms, she missed seeing your face as you made love.

She shifted further, pulling out momentarily as she knelt, knees wide and now leaning over you, one arm behind you and one arm in front.

"Mmm," you complained, a frown on your face as you looked at her. "I liked being held by you." She kissed your shoulder as she lined herself up again.

"Let me try this," she said as she pushed inside.

You moaned as she sunk deep into you. In this new position, she was free to angle her hips better and a few strokes in, she began to pick up her pace, something she couldn't easily do before.

A renewed moan fell from your lips, your mouth dropping open as Jessie held herself up over you and began to thrust steadily and deeply inside of you, her hips free to bounce easily and quickly in this position, while still not adding weight or stress to your body.

"Oh shit," you panted as she fucked you with fervour, sweat starting to bead around her hairline.

"God, you look fucking beautiful," Jessie said as she stared down at you adoringly. "You look even more amazing carrying my baby than I even imagined."

Your hand came up to the back of her neck and you moaned heavily.

"I can't believe I waited so long to let you get me pregnant," you said, hand still caressing the back of her neck. Jessie groaned, eyes closing briefly.

"You know what that talk does to me," she said as her pace quickened slightly.

"It's crazy to think about," you went on. "Back when we first met - to think I was sitting across from the woman who - in a few years - I'd be underneath, legs spread, begging her to pump her baby into me."

"Christ," Jessie cursed as she gave a slight shake of her head, trying to hold back her orgasm which was now rapidly approaching as your words egged her on.

Your other hand came to your stomach and caressed it.

"We don't even have our first yet and I already want you to give me another."

"Babe," Jessie said desperately, her hands clenching into fists on the mattress. "I'm gonna cum if you keep that up."

"Do it. Cum inside of me, I want you to," you said as your fingernails dug into the back of her neck.

She didn't want to oblige, she hated cumming before you did. She balanced on one hand, returning the other to your clit, encouraged by how your eyes closed in pleasure and your sounds rose in pitch.

She felt a bead of sweat run down the side of her face and she panted in effort, but she knew you were close. When you finally clutched the sheets and a cry fell from your lips, she couldn't help herself and she came with a stunted moan, legs spreading wider as she angled and pushed herself as deep inside of you as she could.

"Fuck," she panted, head falling back as she looked up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly as wave after wave of pleasure shot through her as she emptied herself into you. As the last few drops drained out of her, she gave a couple of slow, prolonged thrusts before collapsing next to you, her arm draped over your midsection.

When she came to, she laid slow, gentle kisses along your waist and up your body, finishing at your flushed cheeks. Her heart swelled as she looked at you.

“I love you.”

[what-even-is-thiss]

Do you think we’ll continue to see civil rights improve like they have for the past couple hundred years? I’m kinda anxious about it

I don’t know. What I do know is that in the course of my childhood I saw gay marriage in my home state of California legalized, made illegal again, made legal again, and then made legal throughout my entire country. In my relatively short life I’ve seen things go backwards and forwards at the same time. I’ve seen protections given, taken away, and given again. I’ve seen a resurgence in workers rights come at the same time as a resurgence in fascist ideology. I’ve seen great public awareness of social issues be met with a lot of change and no change at all.

Us late nineties babies have seen a lot going on as we grew up along with the new millennium. I’ve always had a fascination with the time I’m currently living in and my own age as far back as I can remember. As someone born around the same time as the World Wide Web, adaptation to ideas and technologies both old and new comes extremely naturally to me. I know not everyone my age feels this way but my personal perspective on where society might be going is fundamentally shaped by the transitional time period I grew up in. In a mere 26 years of life I’ve witnessed a colossal amount of societal change both social and technological.

Because of who my family is I’ve been paying attention to world news since I was basically a baby and I accepted at a very young age that things often go backwards at the same time that they go forwards. For every action there is a reaction.

The reason I don’t give up hope is because things often go forward eventually. They also often go backwards eventually. Progress isn’t linear, despite what 1960s futurists might try to tell you.

Things might get worse. They also might get better. They also might get worse and then get better again. That’s how it’s been my entire life and I don’t see why I should expect anything other than that. Sometimes our efforts will be in vein. Sometimes they won’t though. And because there’s a possibility they won’t be in vein, we have to keep trying. Because gay marriage was made legal in California again. And because of that I need to keep believing that we can make the world better even if it takes a lot of tries.

[aeribbon]

runway star | kim mingyu (seventeen)

summary; when you catch someone’s eye on the runway and find the love of your life at the same time

pairing; idol!kim mingyu x model!reader

fc; yasmin wijnaldum

warnings; english isn’t my first language, some innuendos ? + i tried to write something at the end but its my first time so 🙈

an; hi i'm back ahaha 😅 taking requests if you guys ever have an idea :) + like and reblog are appreciated

navigation / masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

min9yu_k

liked by dior, vernonline and 3,4M others !

min9yu_k great show ! thank you dior and paris 🖤 #fw

username hes actually so fine its insane

username god gracious

username just fell to my knees

username y’all should have seen him in front the show that day he’s even finer irl

username "thank you dior for giving us more paris mingyu" we say in unison

username oh to wake up next to him every morning

sound_of_coups hope you’re having fun

▮ min9yu_k you guys were missing :(

username BOOMSHAKALA

username and the crowd is in love

username that face card is majestic

username why is he so hoooooot

username streets are saying he was on a date in paris

▮ username none of our business if we’re being fr

▮ username i hope they don’t end up together

▮ username that girl is so lucky

username both lips are smiling

username sometime you just gotta like and say damn

yourusername

liked by yourbestfriend, alexconsani, min9yu_k and 347k others !

yourusername and that’s a wrap on paris fashion week, thanks to everyone i’m really grateful now vacations are calling

yourbestfriend i’m so proud of you

▮ yourusername 🩷

alexconsani the hottest girl on the runway

▮ yourusername it’s you tho

username she has such a captivating aura it’s crazy

username that catwalk is everything

username model of the year

▮ username fr if she doesn’t get that award, blood will bleed

username ugh

username a diva in diva clothes

username mama that face card is a whole economy

username mother

bellahadid girl hmu before milan we need to hang out

▮ yourusername i miss you

username hold on who’s in the likes

▮ username lmaoo that’s what im saying what is mingyu doing here

username OMG

imnotningning you’re so fine it hurts

▮ yourusername girl says you

username basic

▮ username we sure do see you on the runway 😂

deuxmoi

liked by minwonshu, mwinstic and 128k others !

deuxmoi kpop idol and model kim mingyu from the group seventeen was seen on a supposed date in paris during fashionweek, any ideas who could this mystery woman be ?

username we can’t even see if it’s actually mingyu

▮ deuxmoi our source has clearly seen his face but didn’t want to be seen talking pictures

▮ username ofc y’all are violating their privacy

username NOOOOOOO JUST FELL DOWN ON MY KNEES

username my husband is taken what

username knetizens won’t let this last we’ll see 😂

username probably a gold digger

username mystery woman is such a funny word

username omg stop taking pic of me and my bf this is not cool

▮ username lmao girl something is wrong cause that’s actually my man

username that should be me ffs

username knetizens are going to have a blast

username you mean lucky mystery woman

▮ username FR !! that girl is on a date with thee mingyu

username girl must have manifested hard for her to end up on a date with mingyu

username i really wonder who is she

min9yu_k

liked by yourusername, dk_is_dokyeom and 4,6M others !

min9yu_k italy salute

username CRAZY PICS

username what are we mingyu ?

username oh this post is going down in the books

username girl breakfast, lunch, snack and dinner

username he’s so husband in this post wow

username just one chance

dk_is_dokyeom enjoying once again without us

▮ min9yu_k had my priorities

▮ vernonline priorities 👀

▮ username oh

username mingyu the man that you are

username born to ride forced to like and scroll

username the feed is getting prettier

▮ username something really shifted ahaha

username woof woof woof

yourusername

liked by bellahadid, min9yu_k and 235k others !

yourusername 🇮🇹

username such an icon

username serving on the runway and outside of it 🔥

username now hold on that dump is familiar

username IS THAT A MAN ?

▮ username no we can’t lose her

imnotningning omfg

▮ alexconsani i can’t believe she left us and disappeared a few days just for this

▮ imnotningning i fear we got replaced

▮ yourusername omg yall

username ok mother

username ik someone who is in italy too and look strangely like the guy in last pic

▮ username who ??

▮ username prob mingyu

▮ username who is that

▮ username is you serious 😧

username that profile mogs

bellahadid is that who i think it is ?

▮ yourusername ahaha

username that first pic is everything

yournameupdates

liked by username, ynunsual and 23k others !

yournameupdates our girl was spotted by the italian coast with a guy that appears to be her boyfriend as they packed on pda a few moments before pictures were taken !

username i wish so bad to be that guy

username lucky bastard

username tea

username oh to be fully booked on shows and still go on vacations with my little bf

username she’s so fine

username this feels so weird

username that guy looks fine

username stop posting paparazzi pictures of her private life this isn’t cool

username look at her living for the cameras

▮ username is you dumb ?

▮ username you’re literally commenting on a fan page of yn ofc you’re gonna find pictures from paparazzi of her

username yn please take me on vacations with you

username i want to live her life so bad

yourusername

liked by min9yu_k, alexconsani and 456k others !

yourusername paris then where to next ?

username so pretty

username she’s majestic

alexconsani girl wow

bellahadid mouth is drooling

imnotningning she isn’t hanging out with us anymore but at least she’s still serving

▮ yourusername i literally saw you girls last week ?

▮ bellahadid yeah but we still miss you

username she looks so in love

▮ username fr she’s got that girl in love glow

▮ username stoooppp yall are breaking my heart

username mid

username paris the infamous city of love (liked by creator)

▮ yourusername it sure is

username gorgeous

username face card is never declining i see

username i can’t wait to see her back on the runway

▮ username fr i miss her

username i want her so badly

username we’ve been acting like it had become a habit to see mingyu lurking in the likes of

▮ username exactly ?? why is no one reacting anymore

min9yu_k

liked by yourusername, junhui_moon and 3,9M others !

min9yu_k paris then new york ?

username his posts have been looking like soft launches lately

username he’s always on a date this is crazy

▮ username he is probably just eating with his manager all the time lol

▮ username nah you’re delusional we’ve got enough proofs the last months

username paris paris paris the city of love (liked by creator)

username he is so written by a teenage girl who has a dream man in mind

username i’d kill to have my mind erased and discover the existence of this fine man again

▮ username so real of you

username to share fries with him 💔

username a girl can dream

username our mingyu is single stop saying the opposite in the comments

▮ username how do you know that lol

username i’ve feel like this caption is an answer to yourname’s latest post

username you’re onto something?

▮username it might but would they know each other they're from 2 different worlds

▮ username idk but they've been camping in eo likes

username he is TEWWW fine

username stood up and clapped at how hot he is

username raw

text messages between mingyu and minghao

text messages yn and bella, ningning and alex

instagram stories update from yourusername and min9yu_k

replies in the insta group between bella, ningning and alex

alexconsani y'all are so not discreet this is crazy

yourusername he wants to soft launch ahaha

imnotningning OMG FINALLY ???

bellahadid it was awaited after 7 months

alexconsani already ?? you never lasted that long before getting bored

yourusername idk he might be the one guys

imnotningning wow

instagram stories from yourusername and min9yu_k

replies to yourusername's stories

username he kinda looks familiar even with the blur

username pls tell me this is just a friend and not your bf

yourbestfriend finally soft launching

▮ yourusername yeah 😝

min9yu_k you should have waited for me to post ahaha are you in a rush to let them know

▮ yourusername guilty

▮ min9yu_k i love you

min9yu_k

liked by yourusername, feat.dino and 3,1M others !

min9yu_k new york with you or nowhere

username that caption ????

username guys it might be over for us

username that man is taken

username nooooooo

username so fine

feat.dino you're so cheesy

▮ min9yu_k yeah and ?

▮ username dino please tell us who is she

alexconsani new york isn't new york without some pizza

▮ min9yu_k fact

▮ username this interaction is so random what ??

▮ username yn is always lurking in his likes so she probably showed mingyu's account to alex as they're bestfriends

▮ username yeah you're right omg

▮ username SHUT UP ALEX and MINGYU ??

▮ username the duo we didnt know we needed

username everybody is falling in love and i'm falling behind 💔

yourusername

liked by imnotningning, min9yu_k and 635k others !

yourusername city never sleeps and neither do i

username bold to caption this while soft laughing your man

▮ username ahaha i love her

username so pretty

username 4rd picture so wow

username NOT THE MAN MAKING A COME BACK

username she was for us, the girls,...

▮ username i can't believe it

imnotningning nato being in the city too and only seeing you once

▮ alexconsani i'm really starting to dislike that man

▮ bellahadid we need to kidnap her guys

▮ yourusername y'all really know how to exaggerate i saw you guys for brunch two times and we did a whole shopping day

▮ alexconsani that's not enough 👹

username i love this friend group

▮ username they're so funny and they really love each other jsozjjqh

username this guy is so familiar but i can't put a name on the face

▮ username me too and it's slowly killing me

▮ username guys look at username's thread on twitter this is so mingyu !!!!

▮ username hold on let me take a look

username OH

username to be in my twenties and to travel with my bf

username thread on twitter

dispatch_english

liked username, username and 76k others !

dispatch_english latest tweets from the group of models known as ''nato'' on social medias after a thread is trending on x/twitter affirming that mingyu from seventeen and model yn are dating ! what do you think 👀 ?

username lmao they do know that tweeting that just adds fuel to the rumours

username bella is the only smart girl in this group i see

username they're totally right ! idk why our society allows that

username they do deserve privacy but they kinda chose to have the lights on them at any moments

▮ username fr i don't know why they're complaining ??? i wouldn't mind switching place if it only means that !

username did they lie tho ???

username i can't believe mingyu is really dating that

▮ username do you think you're qualified to chose mingyu should date lol ? bffr girl

username if my relationship was exposed on a twitter thread i'll burn everything down

username giving them 2 months and they'll break up lol she's a supermodel who travels and he's an idol 😂🙏

▮ username damn how jealous you must be to think AND comment this

username i wish them to do well so bad like you guys can't understand i'm so ready for the content of this powerful couple

▮ username their babies are going to mog everyone

yourusername

liked by min9yu_k, alexconsani and 1,2M others !

yourusername latest travel diaries

comments are limited

alexconsani proving our point, you spend all your time with him

▮ imnotningning she isn't even hiding anymore

▮ bellahadid the world is finally witnessing this betrayal

imnotningning but you guys are so hot

▮ alexconsani you better find a guy as hot as you

▮ yourusername who says she doesn't already have one ?

▮ alexconsani WHAT ??

▮ bellahadid you gotta keep up girl

min9yu_k where to next ? ;)

▮ yourusername wherever you go 🩷

▮ vernonline being cheesy on main is crazy ??

▮ min9yu_k you're going to be worse than this one day

min9yu_k

liked by your username, ho5hi_kwon and 6,8M others !

min9yu_k 💋🌊🍔✈️❤️

comments are disabled

instagram story from alexconsani

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the sun is shining bright in your room as you open your eyes, feeling someone shifts beside you and hands wrapping around your waist.

''i had a bad dream'' mingyu whispers in your ear as he also wake up. ''oh yeah what did you dream about ?'' you ask, moving the bedsheets aside to finally face your boyfriend.

''i dreamt that you wasn't there at the fashion show where we first met, can you imagine my life without you ? i don't know how i would have survived without you, your smile, your humour, your eyes, your love.'' he presses soft kisses all over your face. ''i hope you know that i love you right ?'' he continues.

''oh trust me i know that ahaha but i think i love you more'' you tease, deciding to shower him in kisses too, ''i would have found you anyway ? i truly believe we're soulmates.'' you add, starting to feel a bit shy as the words leave your mouth.

''i'm gonna marry you one day'' he murmurs, and your cheeks grow even redder at his words. you erupt into shy laughter, your heart swelling with love.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Force in Nature | Platonic Yandere Trey Clover x Toddler Reader

Part 2

Being a child, in your experience sucked. Even with a developing mind there were constant reminders of all your faults. Short, weak, disadvantaged and constantly at the whim of adults. Most children wouldn’t mind so much, considering that the adults in their life mean well but not you. Never you.

“(Y/n) don’t give those fat brats anymore then that. They’re already eating us out of house and home.”

The drivel of your mother rings like a bell in your head. Always chastizing, always negative. It had gotten better now that she had found your father but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. In her mind she figured his children were the only obstacle left between her ‘happily ever after’ with your father. 

“Ace! Deuce! Did you break into this pantry again?!”

It didn’t help that the twins were rambunctious spitfires that were prone to trouble anyway. Which meant they were often forced to reach out their hands to suffer the wrath of the ruler. Their father was a popular man, often more focused on updating the town’s bulletin boards than disciplining his children but it was clear he loved them. 

But love was never enough to save the duo from your mother’s accusations.

At least once a day, your mother would report the twins for doing or saying something awful. It would always lead to an exhausted sigh before stomping over to the children to give another lecture and dish out some chore as punishment.

“This so unfair, we didn’t even do anything this time.”

“Well I know I didn’t. Maybe you did something Ace.”

“What!? How dare you blame me! Don’t you believe me, (Y/n)?”

You usually were a witness to their innocence, often spending your time with them anyway. But for whatever reason not being able to speak meant your written testimonies were invalid. No matter how many times you wrote in you’re book and presented it to your father it never seemed to work. 

“You’re so sweet (Y/n). Trying to save your big brothers; you know that lying doesn’t help their case anymore.”

It was fine when it was only that. Baseless accusations and then the punishment of simple chores. Every now and then a prank in return for their suffering but then the chilly warning of Autmn came around. While the likeness that the snow would pile too high was low, the scarcity of food was a guarantee. Already aware of the set portions you’d receive suddenly decreasing and the way your father didn’t dare eat with you all any more spoke volumes.Unfortunately your mother wasn’t all too fond of cutting material costs.

“Cater I’m telling you, we’ll never get to eat if we have those kids in the house.”

“But love (Y/n) would never survive the trip into town.”

“Not them you idiot! They hardly eat more than a rat! It’s those boys of yours! They’re so big they ought to be hunting for their own by now.”

“The boys…not them they are still children too.”

“Stop whining. I’m going to take them out tomorrow, to learn how to hunt.”

“You?! But you’ve never—”

“Shut-up! Maybe then I can get those kids to do something worth the wasted meal.”

Reporting to your brothers the plan for the day felt like being the espionage detail for a secret operation. It made you proud when they used their information to concoct their own plan. They deduced that she planned to ‘lose’ them during her hunting lesson. Thus Deuce’s genius-plan to leave stones leading to the house was born. It was a shame that this plan didn’t involve you in any way but you were happy to see Deuce leaving stones behind as your mother led him into the forest. 

Trying to comfort your father for a decision he didn’t protest felt odd. Of course, you wouldn’t understand the emotional struggle of his love life and the love of his trouble-causing twins. You are a kid, you aren’t supposed to know. Still, you let him hold you, mumbling curses to himself about cowardice as your mother opened the door. She huffed and puffed about him not greeting her before going off to prepare dinner. 

Unable to resist the urge you settled on the chair beneath the window. Watching the opening into the forest being led to by the stones. Sure enough, before the sun had set and the fourth time your mother had called you for dinner they were there. Appearing slightly dirty but determined they came just in time, much to your mother’s dismay.

Of course, what followed was a new plan for tomorrow.

“I’ll take them deeper in! And I’ll make sure to kick all those pebbles away”

“Please let’s just–”

“Starve!? We’ll barely have enough for dinner tomorrow! They must go!”

“But it’s so cruel.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

The silence from your father was telling and like before you reported to your brothers. They took your notes with just as much urgency as the last, instead trading their stones for crumbs from the sliver of bread they’d be given for lunch. At the time it sounded like a great idea.

But as the sun set and the critters of the forest picked at the crumbs left behind, it dawned on you. 

This was a terrible idea.

With a quickly scribbled note left on the window sill, you took a ball of yarn tying it to the bush near the forest opening. Following the disappearing trail of critters, you were walking in the direction your brothers went finding that it stopped in a clearing. From there the moon could no longer illuminate the crumbs still left and the critters weren’t leading you accurately anymore. 

It was getting colder. The woolen sweater and mitts are your only comfort. With a rumbly tummy and the heaviness on your eyelids increasing, you settled into the dirt. Promising you’ll find your brothers when you wake, staving off the fear from your shrunken spool of wool.

When the sun rose again you woke with renewed vigor. The pain of hunger leaving you for the time being you set your gaze to the ground. Of course, the crumbs were gone but vague indents in the dirt gave you enough of a guide. During your tracking you start the game of letting your smaller shoes take a fraction of their tracks following along as you replay a song your father would sing.

Eventually, the tracks stopped at a paved pathway, it smelled sweet like a candy you’d seen the twins eat. It made you curious but you trusted your judgment to ignore your hungry thoughts. The tracks didn’t continue past the pavement and knowing your brothers they’d certainly gave the brightly colored path a try.

The grumbling desires of your stomach weren’t spoiling your resolve— or that’s what you were telling yourself. Going down the hill the path led over it’s destination led you to a place you swore shouldn’t have existed. In a clearing, the candied path led to a gingerbread house, decorated with various frosting, gumdrops, and red vines. The fence around it was peppermint canes surrounding the sugary house invitingly. A perfect garnishment for an already delectable house. Your stomach agreeing you found yourself closing in on the gingerbread foundation perfectly level with your small mouth. 

Before you could dive in, you stopped. Thinking back to nicer days in the forest you remembered thanking the squirrels buried in the trees surrounding your cottage. Instead of burrowing inside your warm, inviting home they kept to their holes in the nearby trees. Of course, your young mindset wouldn’t have comprehended why animals that wanted to survive avoided the cottage. But that was beside the point. 

Your manners for the owner of the candy house would not be affected. Even though your stomach churned almost painfully at your denial. To make it easier you turned away from it crouching down to hold the grumbling organ. Repeating that you could eat when you returned with your brothers to share—no matter how little was left. 

“You are allowed to eat you know.”

The sultry voice of a man stopped your internal thoughts, peeking your head over your shoulder to look at the interruption. In the doorway of the house was a tall and handsome man, he reminded you of the young bachelor in town. Wearing a tight black long-armed shirt lined with rhinestones, your mother would envy. The dangling sparkles matched his pants which were long and wide at the ankles. His attire was interesting because you’d never seen it before, the man’s face was just as alarming. Hair as green as the surrounding trees was flowing to his waist contrasting his black outfit in a ragged but neat look. It was like a halo of green against his pale skin, golden eyes, and pink lips.

“You look hungry, why don’t you take a bite?”

The way he said it was hypnotic. An inviting and comfortable thrum of a voice that started to pinprick into your morale. You shook your head as if that would expel the greedy thoughts threatening to take hold. You hurriedly pulled out your notepad writing as neatly as you could. Holding up your notepad, you hoped he could read.

'It’s your house…that’d be mean.'

He leaned in to see what you wrote, retreating back to the arch of the gingerbread door.

“I was the one who chose a candy house. It just comes with the territory.”

He flashed a smile, white as milk. You licked your teeth beneath your mouth, feeling the plaque build-up that you’re sure makes your teeth yellow. Thinking of brushing, your memories trickled the moments you’d had with your brothers. The excitement that came with using your toothpaste for anything but. It reminded you of your real objective.

'Have you seen my brothers?'

The man tilts his head. You proceed to draw them to the best of your ability; trying to use the charcoal to detail the colors of their hair, and their height compared to your own. It’s hard to tell if he knows anything as his small smile hasn’t waivered. But as you scribble and point you worried he’d stopped listening.

“How about you come inside, have a bite, and I can help you find your brothers. That sound like a plan?”

You nodded. Standing up, you rushed to his side to grab his extended hand letting him lead you inside.

'My name’s (Y/n), what’s you’re name?'

“Trey. You can call me: Trey."

'Nice to meet you, Trey!'

“Likewise.”

______________________________________________________________

Trey Clover loved to eat children. It was in his nature to come from a long line of baking witches. It wasn’t a trade secret that children extend your life and beauty; the real secret was how to craft the potions with the children to make delicious desserts. Forest animals and pesky adults were fine ingredients but nothing was more fulfilling than a child’s soul. They were also much nicer to have as victims. They cried sure but they were dumber, more gullible, and so much easier to fatten up. But for all the children he’d consumed over the past century, there was something Trey could definitively say was the truth.

That Trey Clover loved children. His family ruled him as demented for such a thought but it was the truth. For all the fulfillment he’d have after his rejuvenating meals, there was still a resounding sorrow that nothing he could make would overshadow. Nothing but the shining presence of another child. 

Trey rationalized that he wasn’t crazy, humans had pet pigs all the time. He’s no different in that way. That every now and then the thought of keeping one crossed his mind, diminished at the thought of one thing or another. Whether it was a spark of brattiness that was hidden behind a sunny demeanor or just the undisciplined actions of a bully in the making. It reminded him why he’d never let himself feel too bad as he tossed their belongings into the basement after a satisfying meal. He figured it was natural selection. Like any other predator, he looked for the weakest, the slowest in the pack to pick off and sustain him for another ten years. 

But he’d begun to waiver with such an innocent soul in his grasp.

“How was that? Was it good?”

'But my brothers–'

He'd close the pad before the question was asked.

“Your head is so warm, I think you’re coming down with a fever.”

Cradling the young child, he settled to swaying them to sleep. His usual victims were not so young, often much older and more defiant. That is why it was such a treat to have a well-mannered impressionable little toddler to care for. With a resolve to their mission that was unavoidable, it still was nothing against the bedtime routine he’d been taught long before. He couldn’t remember if it was his mother or one that he’d eaten but she detailed the way to care for small children with such pride. In his heart of hearts, he’d admit to having eaten her out of envy. But now she proved more useful than her bones as he ran a bath for the yawning toddler.

Distracting them with talks of nothing as he gently wiped the grime off their little body. He had to refrain from frowning at the signs of a rash on their back. He was blankly staring at the untreated patch, cursing the adults who’d allow a sick toddler to run through the woods. But from their other children’s stories, they weren’t all that good to begin with.

The sound of a sneeze reminded him of his task.

“Bless you. After your bath I’m just rub a little ointment on your back before you settle down okay?”

They tiredly nodded, Trey resisted the urge to coo.

“You’re doing a good job staying awake. Let’s finish up before you fall asleep, okay?”

His parents were completely right about him. What sane witch would have a room decorated for a toddler already made, already infused with sleeping herbs that’d erase the thoughts of the past? 

“Goodnight, my sugar cube.”

The notepad had been abandoned long ago. The urge to burn it was growing.

“Tomorrow we can look for your brother.” 

The demanding sign of '2 brothers', made him laugh. Not after today you wouldn't.

“Maybe one day sugar cube, sleep tight.”

Kissing (Y/n)’s head and waving as he closed the door, Trey was elated. It was difficult to wipe the smile off his face when he unlocked the basement door.  

It wasn’t just as he left it per his instructions to the bratty boy. Ace was far too skinny to be worth a good meal and from what Trey could tell a decent worker under stress. Trey figured it’d be hard to break his spirit if the other boy was around. Of course there was a chance it'd return with his little one. Trey would bet on fear and duty overwhelming him and he’d fall right into place.

“I see you’re working extra hard. Good.”

______________________________________________________________

Ace stopped sweeping, his little knuckles white as he fought the urge to scream at the witch. He only wanted to see his brother. After the first night, he knew rebelling would get him nothing but trouble. 

“Can I see my brother now?”

Trey hummed closing the door behind him, he didn’t bother to lock it. He knew the boy wouldn’t want to leave. He took the ring of keys from his belt twirling around his lithe finger as he stepped deeper into the basement. Ace stuck close to his side, waiting anxiously to see his brother again. 

The last time he saw him, his face was wet with tears. His hands were still sticky from the treats they’d gorged on, angrily shaking the unmoving metal bars around him. Ace couldn’t sleep if he tried. 

“Before we go in, you two have a younger sibling. (Y/n) was it?”

Ace’s already sped-up heart-rate, went seconds faster. The collection of little papers in his hands with a tattered cover was far too familiar.

“They sound so determined to find you two.”

“What did you do to them!?”

When Trey turned his head over his shoulder the sneer he gave, bore into Ace's soul like a needle. Flashes of the suffocating pain the night before demanding he fix his demeanor immediately. 

“Quiet boy.” The command was like a heat rod, sweltering from such a short distance. He looked away from those golden eyes for his own sake. “I won’t be doing anything to them if you behave.”

The final warning hung in the air with the door now unlocked. The metal door swinging open was a cruel mirror of when they first accepted the invitation to eat some more. There were tables of sweets and pastries along the cracking walls of the room. A table with a checkered tablecloth and a painted chair were placed off to the right side of the room; waiting for someone to enjoy the decorative plating on its surface. But unlike the day they first arrived a metal cage was hanging from the ceiling and his brother Deuce was in it. 

“I’m glad you ate. At least hunger won’t be the last thing on your mind.”

Trey’s off-handed comment was ignored as Ace ran to clutch at the bars separating him from Deuce. As best as they could they hugged one another, the cold and rusted bars a constant reminder of their unfortunate circumstance. 

“Deuce I can’t let this happen! I have to do something!”

Deuce shook his head,” No, if you do anything bad he’ll eat you too! You’ve got to get back home and find Dad!”

Ace pulled at his orange strands, “I can’t he has (Y/n).”

Deuce’s serious face, quivered. His brave instructions became mute as he imagined their youngest sibling unknowingly falling into the same trap they did.

“You have to protect them. Please, Ace.”

The blue-haired boy couldn’t speak anymore his nose running and tears falling again. All he could do was clutch at Ace’s hands, attempting to put his forehead against the bars to feel his brother's. Ace was crying too, barely standing as he held onto his brother.

“Are you done? I’m not getting any younger over here.”

Trey's snide remark was not appreciated, nor was his giant hand pulling at the rags of his clothes, shoving him toward the oven. Ace didn’t need to ask for Trey to point at the brush and pan on the floor.

“Clean up the oven. The metal earrings from my last meal will make him taste worse.”

Ace murmured his distaste as he opened the oven door. Looking into the deep black mouth of the oven, it amazed him that whole people could fit in there. 

It also gave him a devilish idea.

“Uhm I don’t know how to.”

Trey turning towards him was frightening, the black coloring around his eyes flaring with such disgust. 

“Are you troubled? You just go in and sweep the ash at the floor of the oven.”

Ace pretended to look into the oven before jumping back, “Are you sure there’s not someone down here?”

The witch was prepared to punish the boy but he thought of the toddler upstairs. He had dreamed of the day, he would be called to check the closet for monsters. He figures if he’s keeping the defiant one, he should show some of the same care that he’ll be showing for (Y/n). 

It’s all too easy for Trey to climb inside, having done so on his own, hundreds of times before. Crawling to the back he felt the child coming up beside him, immediately making him grab the head of the boy. 

Ace felt his stomach flip. Had he figured him out?

“We can’t go in at the same time, wait ‘til I’m done.” 

“O-okay.”

As instructed Ace crawled back out, watching how the witch's body fully disappeared into the oven. Once his feet passed the threshold of the oven’s opening, he didn’t hesitate to close the oven door. Jumping up to flick the lock closed, Ace ignored the angry banging as he pulled at the red-colored lever to turn on the oven. 

The feeling of the heat flickering to light brought a successful comfort to the orange-headed boy. The frantic banging from within the oven was as frightening as the demonic screaming from within. 

“W-wait but the keys! He still has them!”

Ace assured his brother with the jingling object in his hand. Deuce pulled him into a teary hug once he’d been freed from the metal cage. The smell of sweat and burning flesh, never being so enticing. The moment between the two stopped as the banging became more and more apparent; the lock clicking as it held the oven closed.

“Let’s get out of here before he breaks out of there.”

“I agree.”

Deuce is the first to run through the door and out the basement; likely because of his time in the metal cage. Ace on the other hand faltered, snatching an armful of the pastries lining the room. He flipped the bird at the furnace and ran to lock the door to the basement door. Before he did, he took a moment to pay his respects to those before him. Bowing his head at the rows of shoes and belongings he’d organized, he apologized again before snatching a satchel. With the final locking of the basement door, Ace lets Deuce run up the stairs to search for their little sibling. 

Allowing Ace to have free reign of the upper floor that had deceived them before. He was never considered a good kid but he hardly saw the appeal when he had no qualms about breaking whatever he couldn’t take. 

“It almost makes this all worth it!”

Deuce, on the other hand, found you easily. The room had a distinct smell that almost made him feel safe. Going out on a limb he found his baby sibling curled up underneath a fluffy blanket. He easily tucked his arms underneath to carry them, he stopped to notice the spool of wool falling from their hand. Deuce put two and two together; smiling at the sleeping toddler in his arms. 

“Thanks to you, (Y/n). We’ll all get to go home.”

The trip back was like a minor stroll. The original dangers of the forest were diminished to minor nuisances in comparison to the horrors they’d endured. Of course, the two still had other things to worry about when they did return home.

“What are we supposed to do about the step-lady?”

“Hm, I don’t know maybe we should push her into the oven too.”

Ace laughed and usually, Deuce would scold him for the macabre joke. But Deuce didn’t really consider that a joke nor was he completely against it. The brothers had plenty to think about as they each took turns holding their snoozing sibling. 

It’s probably best they didn’t look back at the candy house. 

For they might be filled with dread at force they awakened.

[oaksgrove]

Husband!König would be such a DAD but what if he and reader had problems conceiving and after a long time they had their first born?

This was getting dust on my drafts, sorry nonnie :((( (and it was supposed to be a drabble, but husband!konig is so~)

Waiting for a Miracle

pairing: König x female!reader

synopsis: After years of trying and countless heartbreaks, you and König were on the verge of giving up on starting a family. But when a long-awaited test shows two pink lines, the joy and love that follow are beyond anything you ever imagined.

warnings: pregnancy, bit angsty in the start but heart-melting fluff in the end!

word count: 1869

The small house at the edge of the forest felt like a sanctuary from the moment you saw it. The soft hum of nature, the golden light streaming through the windows, and the little garden brimming with possibility—it felt like it was waiting for you and König to fill it with your story.

When you first moved in, it was empty but hopeful. König insisted on carrying every box himself, his massive frame moving through the house like a gentle giant.

“Don’t lift that,” he called when you tried to help, his Austrian accent warming the syllables. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I’m fine,” you protested, but he shot you a look that brooked no argument.

He wanted to make this house into a home for you. You watched him hang curtains, build furniture, and haul soil for the garden. Every touch was infused with love.

That first night, the two of you sat on the floor surrounded by unpacked boxes, sharing a meal of pizza and wine. You leaned into his side, his arm wrapping around you.

“It’s almost perfect,” you whispered.

“But it will be.” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “One day, we’ll hear little feet running through these halls.”

The words were soft, a promise wrapped in hope.

You hadn’t realized how hard it would be. Each passing month brought another wave of disappointment, each test flashing a single line. The first year, König reassured you with kisses and sweet words.

“It will happen, Liebling. We just need time.”

By the second year, the optimism started to wane. The silence after each test became heavier. König’s arms would wrap around you, holding you close as tears fell onto his chest. He was strong for both of you, but you could see the cracks forming in his armor.

“It’s not your fault,” he told you again and again, as though saying it would erase your guilt.

You tried to find joy in the small things—gardening together, baking, quiet evenings with a book. But the ache never fully left. You both wanted more, needed more.

The cold January wind howled against the windows, rattling the glass as you stood in the kitchen. The clock ticked steadily on the wall, filling the silence between you and König. His large frame leaned against the counter, arms crossed tightly, his head bowed as though weighed down by invisible burdens.

"Maybe this is it," you murmured, your voice breaking. "Maybe we’re not meant to be parents."

König’s head snapped up, his usually calm blue eyes stormy with emotion. "Don’t say that," he said, his voice thick with frustration and something deeper. "We’ve come this far."

You closed your eyes, willing yourself not to cry again. You had shed enough tears over the years—months of negative tests, doctor visits, treatments, and the unbearable ache of hope crumbling into despair.

"I’m tired, König," you whispered. 

He stepped closer, his calloused hands finding yours. "I know," he said softly, pressing his forehead to yours. "But we keep trying, Schatz. For us. For what we’ve dreamed of."

For all his stoic strength, König’s voice cracked, and in that moment, you realized just how much he carried. His unshakable faith, his constant reassurances—they had been for you, to keep you afloat.

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his waist, allowing yourself to draw strength from him. "Okay," you whispered. "One more time."

The call came early in the morning. You had been sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for another pregnancy test.

When your phone buzzed with the alarm you set, König rushed to the bathroom before you could. His expression changed as he listened, his body going completely still.

When he turned to you, his eyes widened.

"You’re pregnant." he whispered.

The room tilted, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. "What?"

König cupped your face, his own trembling. "You’re pregnant, Schatz. It’s real."

Tears blurred your vision as you flung yourself into his arms, sobbing into his chest. "It’s real," you echoed, over and over again, the words tasting like the sweetest miracle.

König held you tighter, his broad shoulders shaking as he let himself cry too. For the first time in years, the weight of waiting and wanting lifted, replaced by a joy so profound it left you both breathless.

The journey wasn’t without its challenges. There were sleepless nights of worry, unexpected scares, and countless doctor visits, but through it all, König remained your rock. He read every parenting book he could find, practiced swaddling teddy bears, and painted the nursery a soft shade of green.

“You’re going to be the best papa,” you told him one evening as you watched him carefully fold tiny clothes.

He glanced at you, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “Only because I have the best mama by my side.”

The first ultrasound appointment was marked on the calendar in König’s precise handwriting. You had seen him prepare for missions with less organization than he did for this moment. Every day, he reminded you of the date with growing excitement, his voice tinged with awe as he spoke about hearing your baby’s heartbeat for the first time.

The morning of the appointment, König woke you before the alarm, his large hands already resting gently on your belly as if he could somehow connect with the life inside.

“Are you ready, Liebling?” he asked, his eyes glowing with anticipation.

You smiled, placing your hand over his. “I think so. Are you?”

“I’ve been ready for this my whole life,” he murmured, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your forehead.

The waiting room was quiet, filled with other couples holding hands or nervously flipping through magazines. But König’s presence was anything but subtle—his height and sheer size made him a beacon in the small room. Yet his nervous energy was endearing; his leg bounced lightly, and his fingers toyed with the edge of his jacket sleeve.

When the nurse called your name, König practically jumped to his feet, gripping your hand like it was a lifeline.

In the dimly lit ultrasound room, the technician chatted with you about the procedure, but you barely registered her words. Your heartbeat was loud in your ears, your grip on König’s hand tightening as she prepped the machine.

And then, it happened.

The soft, rhythmic thump-thump filled the room, faint but steady, like a tiny drumbeat of life.

König’s breath hitched audibly, his free hand flying to cover his mouth as his eyes filled with tears. “That’s… our baby?”

The technician smiled warmly. “That’s your baby.”

You turned to look at König, finding his expression utterly unguarded—pure joy, disbelief, and love shining through. He bent down, pressing his forehead against yours, his tears mingling with your own.

“Liebling,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “That’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.”

You laughed softly, your own emotions overwhelming as you placed your hand over his heart. “We did this, König. They’re real.”

-

That evening, König was a whirlwind of energy. He insisted on cooking dinner, humming softly to himself as he worked. You watched from the kitchen table, a hand resting on your stomach, marveling at how alive your home felt with this newfound joy.

The two of you stayed like that for hours, dreaming aloud about your future. König spoke about teaching your child his native language, about the places he wanted to show them, and the values he hoped to instill.

That night, as you lay in bed, König curled around you protectively, one large hand resting over your belly. He murmured soft words in German—promises, dreams, and love—as if your baby could already hear him.

And for the first time in years, the future felt bright, filled with the heartbeat of hope.

Months passed like a dream, each one filled with small milestones that brought you and König closer to meeting your baby, Hans. König became an expert in everything—prenatal classes, baby books, and even assembling the nursery furniture (though he grumbled when the instructions were unclear). Every evening, he talked to your belly, telling stories or humming lullabies in his rich, deep voice.

And then, the day finally came.

It was just after midnight when the contractions started. At first, you thought it might be a false alarm, but by the time the pain intensified, König was already wide awake, alert as if he were preparing for battle.

“Hospital bag,” he muttered, grabbing it with one hand while the other supported you. “Car keys. Phone. Let’s go, Liebling.”

You couldn’t help but laugh through the pain at his efficiency. “You’re more nervous than I am.”

“I’ve never done this before,” he said earnestly, his free hand brushing your hair back from your face. “But I’ll do it perfectly.”

The drive to the hospital felt like an eternity, but König stayed calm, his hand resting reassuringly on your knee the entire time.

Hours later, the delivery room was filled with a blur of voices and activity. König stayed at your side, his hand gripping yours tightly as you worked through the contractions.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured, his voice steady despite the tears shining in his eyes. “You’re incredible, Liebling.”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the cries of your baby filled the room.

“It’s a boy!” the doctor announced, holding up the tiny, squirming bundle.

König froze, his breath catching as he stared at your son. When the nurse placed Hans in his arms, his hands trembled slightly, but his expression was one of awe.

“Hallo, Hans,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m your Papa.”

You watched through tears as König bent down, carefully placing him in your arms.

That first night in the hospital, König refused to leave your side. He sat in the chair beside your bed, cradling Hans like he was the most precious thing in the world.

“He’s so small,” König whispered, his fingers gently tracing Hans’ tiny hand.

You smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder. “He’ll grow fast. Too fast.”

König shook his head, his eyes never leaving your son. “Not fast enough. I want to remember every moment.”

As Hans stirred in his arms, König began humming a lullaby in German, his deep voice soothing both you and the baby into a peaceful calm.

The first days at home were filled with joy and chaos. König insisted on doing everything—diaper changes, late-night feedings, and even the laundry. You often found him sitting in the nursery, holding Hans close as he talked to him softly.

One evening, as you stood in the doorway, watching König rock Hans to sleep, he looked up and smiled at you.

“He’s perfect,” he said softly, his voice filled with wonder.

You walked over, wrapping your arms around him and resting your head against his chest. “He is. And he has the best papa in the world.”

König kissed the top of your head, his voice tender. “This is everything I’ve ever wanted. You and Hans—my family.”

And as the three of you sat together, wrapped in the quiet warmth of your home, you felt a deep, unshakable sense of love that would carry you through every moment to come.

[shanastoryteller]

Happy birthday!!!! More FMA!

He’s fucking tired.

In Xerxes, he’s Van Edris. In Xerxes, he’s the son of a former slave, having narrowly escaped being born into his father’s fate by virtue of him being awarded freedom by the time of his birth. In Xerxes, he’s an uncommon commodity, an alchemist with a skill that hasn’t been seen since his father fucked off to who knows where.

In Amestris, he’s Edward Elric. In Amestris, he’s the son of Trisha Elric who was born free and died free because while there are lots of different forms of freedom, in Amestris there’s one that everyone shares. In Amestris, he’s unknown and unremarkable and no one gives a fuck about what he does.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he says flatly.

This is what he gets for visiting his father’s country. It’s just fucking unfortunate that the really good alchemical texts are here.

He should have let Al (Van Altun, as they know him, even though the two of them having been using their Amestrian names almost their whole lives, regardless of what country they were in) do it. They’re not nearly as weird about him.

Pakor is alright, as far as kings go. He’s freed a lot of people, is poking at the laws of ownership that has governed his country for centuries to see if he can do anything about them without getting beheaded for it. He’s also known Ed since he was a barely able to walk, back when his father still made court appearances and brought the family along with him. Former slave against most talented alchemist in the country, and people tended to politely ignore the former. Hell, Ed’s been counting on the same thing since he was twelve.

Of course, now it’s coming back to bite him. People say he’s a genius, but if he was really smart he would have stayed far, far away from court. Like in Amestris, perhaps.

“You’re fluent in both languages,” Pakor says, coaxing.

“So are you,” he says accusingly. “We’re speaking Amestrian right now!”

Pakor sighs and switches to Xerxian. “You also speak Xingese and Drachman. You’re a difficult man to keep secrets from.”

“I’m also Amestrian!” he shouts. “And free, might I add! You can’t sell me off to slavery just to get some intel!”

“It’s not like we’ll brand you,” he says, affronted, and Ed is reminded that alright for a king is still pretty shitty. “We just need someone to do a little – double checking. To ensure the situation in Amestris is as it’s advertised.”

“You want to gift me to the Fuhrer to spy on him and you’re, what, just hoping he doesn’t notice that I understand everything and know everything and am, oh yeah, one of his citizens? I’ve been to Central before! With my luck, I’ll get recognized the first day here and then run out of Amestris! And, again, Amestris doesn’t have slaves! The leader of the country really can’t have one.”

Pakor sighs. “You’re very dramatic, Edris. It won’t be so bad. Here, I’ll say you’re my personal slave and that you’re on loan. It’ll be for cultural exchange purposes. He speaks Xingese, so you can communicate in that language without letting on you know Amestrian.”

Ed pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is a stupid fucking idea.”

“If you do this,” Pakor says, “I’ll give you the key to the royal library.”

Ed slowly lowers his hand, eyes narrowing. “I’ve been asking you to let me in there for years.”

“I figured I’d need to bargain it away eventually,” he says. “I was hoping you’d marry one of my daughters for it.” Having even light court obligations is bad enough, he’s in no way stupid enough to marry in. “You’re very difficult, you know. I’m your king. I shouldn’t have to bargain with you.”

“Tough shit,” Ed says, because Pakor may have known him for nearly twenty years, but that knowing goes both ways. Besides, he can’t piss him off because then he and Al will stop reparing all their shit bridges and infrastructure. “Fine. But if I lose my Amestrian citizenship over this, I’m going to be pissed.”

“Noted,” Pakor says brightly.

Uhg.

It doesn’t help that everything he’s heard about Fuhrer Mustang makes the man sound insufferable.

[bloodlust-1]

A baby is on the way!

Tav is expecting a little one! This is how I’d imagine the companions to react during the pregnancy and birth

Reactions/head-canons!

Featuring:

Astarion

Gale

Halsin

Astarion

When Tav tells him she’s pregnant:

- “What? Is this some kind of joke cause it’s not funny, Tav! You can’t really be pregnant— I mean happy things don’t happen to me. Right..?”

Reality will kick in, he won’t admit he’s excited at first, but she can see the happiness in his eyes.

Belly is gettin’ bigger! :

- “My little sweet with her tummy all grown. I’ve never seen such a beautiful sight, if I say so myself.”

While she naps he loves talk to her stomach, saying random names until something sticks. He loves gender-neutral names.

Preparing for the baby:

-“How in the hells do you put this together!?” He fights against the bassinet. “Gods, please give me the patience to see this through.”

-“You know, our baby is going to be the cutest face to ever grace faerun! With parents that look like us, hah!”

He visits healers with her often, and even secretly confides in Gale for pregnancy books to learn more about a half-vampire baby.

The baby is coming:

-“Deep breaths my love.”

-“You’re doing so well, our baby is almost here.”

Astarion makes sure to bring all of his baby care he prepared. He never leaves her side, holds her hand, and occasionally yells at the healers to help her with the pain from the contractions.

The baby is born: It’s a girl!

- “She has your eyes. Thank you, for giving me something I can fall in love with all over again. I love you.”

He weeps in happiness and relief as the baby takes its first cry, he is the first to hold her.

He doesn’t allow anyone to see the baby until Tav gains her energy back. He stares at the baby and points out what features are his and what is Tav’s.

Gale

When Tav tells him she’s pregnant:

-“I-I…This is fantastic news! I’m going to be a father! We must celebrate at once.”

The first week of telling Gale he went to buy the most beautiful embroidered baby blanket, and occasionally showed up to the house with random baby items.

Already planning the baby shower.

Belly is gettin’ bigger! :

-“You have a glow to you, I’m happy you both are both healthy, my love. Let me cook you something for dinner.”

Gale loves to hug her belly from behind when they are in bed. He traces little hearts on her stomach.

Preparing for the baby:

- “Darling, I visited the library and look what I found!” He dumps a pile of books on the table. Its books about parenting, pregnancy, and babies-101. “Now we’ll be ready for any obstacle. I hope.”

They discus a birthing plan with each other. Gale really wants her to deliver the baby in Waterdeep, his home town where his family could visit them.

Gale won’t let her move a finger. You have to go up the stairs? Not without him. You need a glass of water? He’ll fetch it. He cooks all her favorite meals and weird cravings.

The nursery room they’ve built together is inspired by the stars. All the pretty star and moon decorations were placed in the nursery.

The baby is coming:

“There, there, it’ll all be better soon.”

“I can’t wait to see our baby.”

Gale brought the best healers he know to assist Tav. He rubs her lower back to try and comfort the contractions. He is extremely nervous— hands shaking and all!

The baby is born: It’s a boy!

“You did perfect— he’s perfect. I-I don’t even know what to say. We’re a family now, Tav…” <3

He tied back Tav’s hair in a bun and helped her shower after giving birth.

Gale watches Tav breast feed as he rubs the baby’s cheek and whispers the baby’s name to it. Promising him a good life.

Halsin

When Tav tells him she’s pregnant:

-“I knew there was something off with you, I’m just surprised this is why! You’ve already made me so happy, and now you’re giving me the biggest gift nature can bestow on me.”

She catches Halsin praying to his god, giving it thanks for the giving him a baby and family.

He starts to study babies more, even brining back natural remedies for Tav to use/eat for the baby’s health.

Belly is gettin’ bigger! :

-“At this rate you won’t be able to walk soon. Do you need your back rubbed again, my heart?”

Her belly is super big, almost too big for just 1 baby. Halsin barely leaves her side and took time away from being a leader to help Tav with her pregnancy.

He carves small wooden toys for the baby, especially ducks. He always shows Tav for validation to see if she likes them, of course she always does.

Preparing for the baby:

-“The baby will be here soon, I’ve alerted everyone in the grove to keep a watchful eye on you to make sure you don’t go too far from home. I want you to be safe.”

Halsin prepares a tub for Tav to give birth in the comfort of their own home. He collected many towels, aloe, and much other natural remedies to reduce her pain during labor.

He wants Tav to pick the baby’s name, he feels as if this is natures gift and that the mother should have free range to name the baby. He is happy with anything.

He orders midwives to make Tav eat soups, many that don’t taste great but are super packed with benefits for a healthy baby.

The baby is coming:

-“It hurts my heart to see you like this, but I promise we’ll get through this together.”

-“Keep pushing, my love, you are doing so well, don’t stop now.”

Tav never seen him so nervous. Her contractions were very frequent with little to no time between them. He gets extremely overwhelmed and starts to get snappy with the midwives to try and help Tav cope. He even tries healing magic on her as well to help.

Halsin holds her hand in both palms, he squeezes them whenever she groans in pain. He always uses loving words to try and comfort her.

The baby is born: It’s twins! Boy & Girl

-“Look, Tav! It’s our cubs, they’re beautiful. This is truly a blessing from nature, I am forever grateful for you for giving me a family. I promise to protect us all.”

He holds both babies in each arm, swaying them slowly and adoring their little faces. He orders all and any crowd away from the home for privacy between the couple. Halsin likes to call them his cubs. He gives Tav many kisses and thanks.

Halsin prepares a ceremony to introduce the babies to the Oak Father. They were wrapped in the finest silk blankets and all the grove attended, giving their prayers to welcome the children.

Many members of the grove gives the newly parents much gifts and food. Halsin has never been happier and is excited to teach his skills to his cubs.

Note: Halsin a twin daddy? 🥺 omg my heart, I could imagine him playing toys with them and teaching them how to go into wild shape. Little cubs running around the house. <3333

[axelsagewrites]

James Potter*Switching Positions

Pairing: young!james x f!reader

Kinktober Day five: role reversal with James Potter – James is used to being in charge, but things change when one night you decide to give him a taste of his own teasing medicine

Word count: 1162

Warnings: cocky james at first, sub james, switch james/reader, teasing, p in v sex, condoms, smut 18+

Masterlist Here

Kinktober List Here

James thought he was a natural born leader, always the first to speak and to charge head on into danger. When you started dating it wasn’t odd for him to be the one to lead you through the crowd or even through what to do in the bedroom.

Remus was at a study session and his other duo had a detention from a failed prank attempt during a Gryffindor Slytherin quidditch match. While he made fun of his friends for getting caught, he was glad for it as his fingers began to work on the buttons of your blouse. “Fucking missed you all day,” he mumbled against your lips as you laid together on his bed.

Your hands were already getting the last button of his off, shoving his shirt over his shoulders, “You act like I was gone for a year,” you giggled as your hands began to trail down his body, thankful to the way quidditch had shaped him.

“Felt like more than a year,” he mumbled as he finally about got the last button undone, his hands slipping down to grab your thighs, grateful you’d taken your tights off before even getting on the bed.

You weren’t sure what had come over you, a sudden burst of confidence or just pure horniness as your hands found his shoulders again. Within moments you’d flipped James onto his back as you straddled his lap. “That’s more like it,” he smirked, his hands slipping under your skirt to grab your ass.

Your hands found his wrists, pinning them down to the bed. “Who said you could touch?” you asked, knowing full well if he wanted to stop you, he could.

But James wanted to see just how far you’d go, “Its cute when you think you’re in charge,” James mocked, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Cute, eh?” you asked, your hips slowly starting to grind onto his hard on through his trousers making James groan and close his eyes, “We’ll see if you think it’s cute when I’m done with you,” you teased, leaning down to press a messy kiss to his lips.

Your grip loosened on his wrists as you went to run your hands over his body but when his hands went to grab your hips again you pinned them back down, “Cmon,” James whined, almost pouting as you continued to grind your hips into his.

“Uh uh,” you tutted, smirking down at the new feeling, “Never said you could touch did I,” your hands slipped beneath your bodies, unzipping his trousers and pushing them down till only boxers and panties separated you.

James huffed and you knew if he could he’d cross his arms and pout for real, “Can I touch you?” he asked, almost rolling his eyes as he did.

“Nope,” you said, popping your p with a smirk as you began to grind down again. You could feel his cock twitch as you set an agonisingly slow pace.

James eyes screwed shut as he desperately tried to not cum in his pants from this alone, ���Please,” he whined as you leaned down to press sloppy kisses down his neck, a feeling he never knew he’d enjoy.

“What was that?” you whispered in his ear, enjoying how he shivered as your hands slipped away from his wrists to trail down his chest.

“Please can I touch you,” James whined, louder this time as you chuckled.

You stroked his cheek lightly and James eyes fluttered open at your touch, “Since you asked so nicely baby,” you said, kissing his jaw, “Yes you can touch,”

James hands instantly moved to your hips, grabbing at the soft flesh as his hips began to buck. Your hand reached down to hold down his hip, “Be patient,” you chastised making him whine much more.

After a few more moments of torture, you shimmied down slightly. James began to protest until he felt your fingers hook the waist band of his boxers, pulling it down to discover a painfully hard cock already dripping in precum, “somebodies desperate,” you teased, taking it in your hand to pump softly making James eyes roll to the back of his skull.

He didn’t even notice you reaching for the condom till he heard the packet tear open, and his eyes lit up like it was Christmas. “If you don’t behave,” you warned and James was already moaning from the feeling of you slipping it on him, “I will stop yeah?” you told him as James quickly nodded.

 “Best behaviour love,” he said as you began to shuffle back over him, “promise,” he assured. You lined him up with your hole and James whined from just rubbing his tip against you. he let out a low groan as you slowly sunk down onto his cock and even you were moaning by this point.

Your hands moved to rest on his chest as you steadied yourself, taking it all in. “Please,” James mumbled, his voice hoarse and barely audible, “I can’t wait much longer please,”

“So polite now,” you praised, your hand cupping his face as you began to slowly grind your hips, “Remember you can touch me baby,” you told him and soon his hands were back under your skirt which you hadn’t bothered to take off.

“Can I kiss you?” James asked and instead of answering you leaned down to join your lips in a slow messy kiss.

This new position had your clit rubbing against his pelvis making you whine with each movement. James hands crept from your hips to your tits, pulling your bra down so he could squeeze them gently as your own pace began to speed up. The only thing masking your moans was his lips against yours, but it did little to mask them when he began to roll your nipples between his fingers, and you felt yourself clench around his cock.

“Fuck I can’t hold off much longer,” James groaned, desperately trying to hold on but his words barely even registered as you felt your own orgasm swiftly approaching. Your hips were faster than ever as you chased your peak and when it hit it took your breath away.

James however, even if submissive before, was not ready to stop just yet. Grabbing your hips tightly his own hips began to buck up, fucking you while you rode out your orgasm which only made it more intense. It didn’t take long till you felt James’s stomach begin to tighten and his pace grow messy. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mumbled until a loud groan fell from his lips as his body stiffened.

You almost collapsed into the bed next to him, pulling to readjust your clothes as your head fell to face James. He turned his head to yours, a dopey smile on his lips, “You’re so fucking hot babe,” he said, his voice hoarse as he pressed a sleepy kiss to your forehead, “We should do that more often,”

“Fuck yes,”

taglist: @clairacassidy

[okaysonny]

to be, or not to be ╏ gun park + james lee [UNFINISHED]

✦ A/N: 😭 sorry to the person who requested...but i've discovered gun and james are my mount everest of lookism writing. i have no idea how to finish this :')

+ i went heavily off track from the og ask loool. (aka - no james appearance yet) still wrote a lot for it though, so i wanted to share </3

The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir too; tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd

a woman of ambition, somi park has a clear goal: to be acknowledged as shingen's wife, and thus, elevate her family name.

so, it isn't hard to picture her joy she hears the news.

"twins" the doctor says, smiling. "two healthy boys. congratulations. you must be so proud"

and she is, the tears of gratitude flowing before she realises. thank you, god.

two boys, a greater chance for her offspring to be the future heir, a greater chance for a child with reverse eyes. another shingen and shintaro case, perhaps.

"thank you, doctor" she manages to croak. "that's wonderful"

but then you popped out. not looking quite like a boy.

"i don't...i don't understand" she murmurs, bewilderment evident on her face. somi gazes down at the girl before her. "the doctor said...two boys"

the midwife looks down, the sheepishness evident on her face. "s-sometimes ultrasounds get it wrong...it's rare, but it happens. i'll alert someone"

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

"vice leader!"

shintaro is pulled from his contemplation, glancing up.

"the midwife just sent word that twins have been born...from somi park of the hangure clan" the messenger looks nervous throughout, his eyes darting away from him. "she gave birth to the strongest child of all...he has black eyes with white irises"

he breaths a sigh of relief. so, heaven hasn't forsaken the yamazaki's after all.

"that's incredible, but...what of the other one?" shintaro asks, raising an eyebrow. "is something wrong?"

the messenger exhales slowly. "well...it seems the gender of the other twin was mistaken. instead of two boys, it's a boy and a girl"

shintaro is unfazed. "so what? you know what to do. our objective is raising a suitable male heir...we have no need for girls right now"

another slow exhale as he speaks again. "well, vice leader...the girl has reverse eyes as well"

his eyes widen, setting his glasses down. "the girl has...reverse eyes too? a girl? i see...yamazaki blood is truly incomprehensible"

"vice leader, should we still..."

shintaro closes his eyes and thinks for a moment. "no. we'll keep her. the reverse eyes are too important to discard of her. it's a crucial qualification to become the leader...not even gapryong kim possessed that ability"

the messenger nods. "so then...what are your plans for her?"

shintaro leans back in his chair, his hands clasped together. "the reverse eyes are a gift from heaven. they’ve chosen to bless us twice over, and we’d be fools to give that up"

"...but she can’t become the heir" the messenger says carefully. "the leadership of the yamazaki syndicate—"

"will remain with a man" shintaro interrupts smoothly. "that's immutable. however, there’s more than one way to strengthen the yamazaki name"

he stands up, walking to the window as he watches the view. "the girl’s reverse eyes will make her highly desirable to other families. they’ll clamor for the chance to tie their bloodline to ours"

"you mean...through marriage?"

shintaro turns to him, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "precisely. and because of her eyes, we’ll be in a position to negotiate. there’s no rule stating that women of the yamazaki clan must take their husband’s name. her children will carry the yamazaki bloodline — and the name — forward. with the right alliances, we could secure another leader for the generation after"

"but...what if none of her children inherit the eyes?" the messenger asks, his voice cautious.

shintaro’s expression doesn’t waver. "then she’ll keep trying until one does. that is her purpose"

the room briefly falls into silence before he clears his throat. "and until then? what will be done with her?"

shintaro speaks dismissively, as if the question is trivial. "we’ll prepare her, of course. the maids will teach her how to become the ideal wife — perfect in every way. a true asset to the family. she’ll understand her role and embrace it"

he turns his gaze back to the window. "with her, we’ll shape the future of the yamazaki syndicate"

the messenger bows slightly, murmuring his acknowledgment. "as you wish, vice leader"

shintaro’s hand rests lightly on the windowpane. "the boy will bring strength to the family name...but the girl will bring power"

5 years later

"oh my! look how quickly you're sweeping! such diligence!" one of the maids smile at you, giving your hair a gentle ruffle.

"yes!" you beam, flashing a toothy grin. "i'll sweep extra hard, so i can be married one day!" you persist with your aggressive brushing, collecting all the dust in one place.

shintaro and his underling watch from a distance as the latter speaks up. "i still remember the chaos that ensued when the news came out...feels like yesterday"

shintaro nods in agreement. "it was the right decision. since she's still young, we'll settle for teaching small tasks as we ease her into her role"

they glance over to gun, who's training with the ghostly brothers. "she's not as gifted as young master, but still, if things maintain this way, both of them will develop splendidly"

shintaro unfurls a folding fan with a gentle flick of his wrist. as he lifts his gaze towards the sky, a sense of tranquility washes over him. "yes...the future of this syndicate is bright indeed"

7 years later

"you look down in the dumps" you observe, sitting down next to gun on the steps. "oh wait...that's just your face!"

you slap your knees and laugh hysterically — as if it really is the best joke in the world.

gun blinks, unaffected. "but...we have the same face"

you pause and scowl. "...touché"

there really isn't much to say about your sibling relationship. there's nothing to hate about each other...but nothing to like either. he has his purpose in life, you have yours. both of you have little free time — why would you spend it with each other? — excluding the odd moments like this, that is.

"w-what i meant to say was..." you continue. "...you look more down in the dumps than usual"

[END]

✦ A/N: ok basically...gun was gonna ask if reader likes what she's doing in life right now, and says that he heard something about it from haruto. and then idk...i had no idea where to go from there 😅

i had the general structure for this fic in place, but...i'd be lying if i said i'd finish it! sorry (-.-)

dividers: @thecutestgrotto @strangergraphics

[piftamere]

satoru ending (wc : 1.6k ; cw : hospital room, brief description of the crash, mentions of death)

in your hospital bed, you feel small, you look small too. you're paler than usual, dark circles surround your tired eyes. you broke your left arm and now a cast envelops it.

“never scare me like that again” and a couple “i love you”s can be read on the white bandages, written by yuuji and kugisaki. flowers, ballons and a teddy bear decorate your room.

the doctor came by earlier, you're going to be okay. you should be out of the hospital in a few days. the police came too but megumi told them to come back tomorrow. you’re thankful he did.

megumi, yuuji and kugi look exhausted but they're smiling, you don’t have the heart to ask them to leave so you can rest. their presence is comforting, you’ll sleep later.

your ribs hurt when you breathe and even worse when you laugh, but you still reward yuuji’s poor attempts at lightening the mood with a chuckle. you can tell he needs it, you all need it.

when you recognized the driver as satoru’s former assistant, your heart missed a beat. you asked her to stop the car, but she started ranting to you, accusing you of ruining her life, of using people then discarding them.

you were so scared, you really thought you were going to die in that car. she kept speeding while not focusing on the road. going on and on about how you were a terrible person. and when she swerved off the road to avoid another car, you saw your life flash before your eyes. you saw the faces of everyone you would never get to see again. satoru’s face.

you’ll never forget the fear you felt when the car flipped over.

your thoughts are interrupted by frantic knocks on the bedroom door, megumi invites them in.

satoru walks in, he looks like a shell of himself, his hair is messy, his eyes are red.

“we’ll leave you two alone.” megumi says to you, his hand on your shoulder, before gesturing for everyone else to leave the room.

he sits down in the chair next to your bed, panic still evident in his eyes. “how are you feeling?”

“better now that you’re here.” you give him a soft smile, taking his hand in yours. you see him visibly relax.

“are you in pain?”

“a little, but i’m okay don’t worry.”

“i’ll always worry about you.”

“i know.” you say with a small smile.

“i was so scared.” the words hang in the air, raw and vulnerable. he’s staring down at your joined hands. “it’s my fault it happened. i never thought she’d take it this far, i’m so sorry.”

even if it hurts to speak, you need to say this. for him.

“how could you have guessed that your ex-assistant was insane to the point of stalking me for months and pretend to be my uber to confront me, or kill me i don’t really know what was her plan… that she would lose control of the car and that we’d have an accident. even a psychic couldn’t predict that satoru.”

hearing it out loud, it sounds ridiculous. satoru chuckles halfheartedly, wiping off a stray tear, but he stays silent.

“do you know why i was in that car?” you say barely above a whisper, squeezing his fingers to get his attention. he turns his head to look at you, you can clearly see the tears in his eyes now. he shakes his head.

“because you had an interview?”

“it’s funny because i was doing the interview, answering the same old questions and i started talking about my love for music, how it’s my passion and the only thing i want to do in life, how i feel like it’s what i was born to do you know?” he nods along, “but while i was rambling on and on, something felt wrong, it was different from all the other times i’d given that same speech. because all i could think about was you. that’s how i feel about you too. i love you, and i’m tired of pretending i don’t.”

his eyes widen, bottom lip quivering as he starts full on crying, tears streaming down his face and you panic, trying to wipe them away.

“i didn’t want to make you cry! i’m sorry satoru! i take it ba-” before you can finish your sentence, he places his hand on your mouth.

“don’t even think about taking it back.” he sniffles, melting into your touch, your hand still on his cheek. “i’m just a little emotional today, i’m fine. i love you too, more than you can even imagine.” he takes his hand off your mouth.

you exhale deeply, relieved to see he stopped crying. “okay, good…”

he takes both of your hands in his, looking into your eyes as he speaks. “i know it’s probably not what you want, given how much you love what you do and how hard you worked for all of this, but i need to say it. if this was the one thing that makes you want to quit, i get it. because a part of me wants to convince you to quit too. i don’t think i could stand losing you, these past few hours have felt like a living hell, and i would give up on everything if it meant keeping you safe, next to me. so just say the word, now or in 5 months, and i’ll leave it all behind, for you. If you’ll let me, of couse.” he looks down where your hands are joined, his voice trembling slightly. “but if you choose to keep going, i swear to protect you, i won’t let anything like this happen ever again.”

you take a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words and the sincerity in his eyes. “i’ll think about it,” you say softly. “i’m probably going to take a break but i don’t want to quit. i’m not saying i’ll never change my mind, but i love what i do too much.” you give him a reassuring smile. “and how likely is it that i’d get stalked twice, right?” you chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood.

he shakes his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips but worry still clear on his face.

“i’ve never seen you so serious ‘toru. come on, smile.” you say with a pout, poking his cheek where his dimple usually is. his smile grows a bit but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. still, it’s good enough for now. your voice hoarse, you say warmly, “oh there it is.”

you scoot over to the side of the bed, tapping on the covers to invite him to join you.

“come. you can’t say no, i almost died today.”

“i wouldn't dream of saying no.”

he climbs on, careful not to touch your cast, he wraps his arms around you, gently, like he’s afraid of breaking you.

in his embrace, the tension that has been gripping your body since the accident begins to ease. the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calms you down. you finally feel safe, for the first time since the crash. the hospital room and the pain fade away, and all that remains is the warmth of his body against yours.

you close yours eyes, his fingers trace soothing patterns on your arm.

“can i tell you a story?” his voice is soft, gentle.

you nod, “sure.”

“do you remember when we met?”

“yeah,” you say, a chuckle escaping despite the pain. “i thought you were an asshole.”

he coughs, clearing his throat awkwardly. “well, i was… but…”

“but?” you ask, curiosity piqued.

“but,” he continues, “the moment I saw you, I knew you were going to be someone important to me. you had this fire in your eyes, this determination. even though you were giving me the cold shoulder, i couldn’t help but be drawn to you.”

you tilt your head, gazing up at him. “really? i always thought you just enjoyed getting under my skin.”

he laughs warmly, the sound a comforting wave against your back. “maybe a little. but that was just my way of trying to get close to you. i remember watching you from across the room that first night, thinking, ‘i have to get to know her.’ there was something about you, something that called me.”

the memory of that night comes back to you. “you were so cocky, acting like you owned the place.”

he chuckles a bit sheepishly, a whine escaping his lips, “i’m sorryyyy, i was trying to impress you and it backfired. i really didn’t want to make a fool of myself…”

“and yet you did.” you tease lightly.

“and look where that got me.” he grins, tightening his hold on you.

there’s a moment of silence before he speaks up again, “so… am i your boyfriend now?”

you hum, “hm if you’d do me the honor yes.”

“and you’re my girlfriend?” he whispers into your neck, you can feel him smile against your skin.

“that’s usually how it works yes.” you mumble as you drift off to sleep in his arms.

fun facts :

satoru's the one who changed his contact name to "my pest"

they moved in together a few months after the accident

satoru's already thinking about proposing after one year together and yn has to keep reminding him that they don't have to rush it

megumi and yn still see each other often despite not living together anymore, and they keep working together too

author's note

ignore if some things dont make sense :3

satoru got his happy ending, megumi and maki are next dw !! 😗😗

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ tugging on heartstrings ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

as an aspiring solo artist, you dream of making it big in the music industry. With your talent and unwavering determination, you find yourself entangled in a web of romantic pursuits amidst rumors and betrayal. Will you emerge unscathed and manage to navigate your love life in the chaos of fame?

Part thirty-eight - the end

rbs and interactions are highly appreciated <3

taglist : closed :) to be added leave a comment on the masterlist of the smau

@lysaray @swissy23 @d6za1 @minzxec @sleepy-waffle @saturn-alone @dreamxiing @selysixn @reiluvr @lavender-hvze @mellozhi @cre8inghavoc @ichorstainedskin @inosfavgf @k4sss133 @taelattecookie @cheese-enjoyer9471 @wateronlyhaha @sonicsolos @bkgs-girl @colortheoryrocks @kinkybandages @woahguy278 @cuteandohsodeadly @weewooooweew @peqch-pie @myguumi @r0ckst4rjk @jun1p3rlol @juliiizh @seikamuzu @theweirdfloatything @h3xi2g0n3 @xbarrjallenx @0range-juiceee @xenop0p @reagan707 @eyes-ofhell @theresmeaninginthat @emlient @danhengswifey @cherrypieyourface @bitchycloudstrawberry @ofherchaos @shanye1112 @eusaevi @fuyuzemi @cupkiki @lvtilzs @abiiebibie

if you're name is crossed out i couldn't tag you, if it's not fixed in a week i'll remove you sorry :(