#i will sleep much better at night thank you

[steveslevis]

can you see right through me?

azriel x mate!reader

summary: after finding out you're mated to the Spymaster of the Night Court, you can't help but feel self-conscious, thanks to the jealous remarks made by patrons at your bookstore.

warnings: mentions of self-hatred and self-sabotage, angst!!!, body image issues, depression, mentions of death, azriel is an idiot but he figures it out ok, mentions of sex & the mating frenzy

word count: 9.5k (oops...)

Ever since finding out that you’re mated to none other than the High Lord’s Shadowsinger two months ago, everything in your life has flipped upside down.

You’re not just some ordinary bookstore owner anymore, you’re now part of the Night Court’s Inner Circle by default. Your status as a citizen in Velaris has completely changed, but you refused to quit working just because of your mate, much to his disappointment. He’d rather you just stay with him in the House of Wind, filling your days reading your favorite books instead of selling them, but you insisted. You wanted to get to know the male better before immediately accepting the bond, moving in and forgetting about your old life, especially after hearing all the things people say about you and your new mating bond when they’re in or around your shop. 

You have to deal with sidelong glances and whispers from almost everyone who comes into your tiny shop next to the Sidra, have to hear the spiteful unmated females who might kill to be in your position. 

“How do you think she got him? Do you think she slipped one of those banned love tonics into a drink or something?” 

“He could be mated to anyone, and the Cauldron picked her of all people?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he already rejected the bond, I don’t ever see them together.”

“She’s definitely just using him for his money and power, she had to have manipulated him somehow.”

“I thought he was with the Morrigan, she’s much more fitting for a male like him, much prettier.”

Every snide remark hits you like a knife to the heart, but still, you keep your composure throughout every single day. It isn’t ever until you’re in the safety of your own apartment above the bookstore that you allow yourself to mull over the comments, to let yourself fall back into old self-loathing habits.

You quickly learn how to contain your sadness to your end of the bond, blocking Azriel from seeing the pain that you endure on a nightly basis. You’re convinced he would be so embarrassed to see you cry yourself to sleep, to see you poke and prod at your skin in front of the mirror, to see you skip over meals in order to appease that incessant hatred filling your mind, to see you become filled with so much disgust in yourself when you replay the remarks over and over and over again.

The comments never seem to die down as weeks pass, and you slowly convince yourself that they’re all right, that Azriel is going to reject the bond because you don’t deserve him. You don’t see him often anyways, as you’re both preoccupied with your jobs throughout the week, which doesn’t help the fact that you’re convinced that he doesn’t want to be around you. 

You’re stuck between trying to change yourself to fit what you think the Illyrian would like in a mate and rejecting the bond before he gets the chance to break your heart. You eventually decide it’s worth a shot to change yourself into the ideal, beautiful mate that you think he wants you to be before being stung with the inevitable heartbreak that comes with rejecting a bond. 

Sundays used to be your favorite day of the week because you get to close shop at mid-day and spend the rest of the day reading at the foot of the Sidra or walking around to the nearby shops. 

For the last few Sundays, you didn’t feel like doing anything aside from wallowing in self-pity in your bed. You never let yourself do just that, though. 

You’d taken it upon yourself to change your lifestyle after thinking long and hard about the women that he’s surrounded by in the Inner Circle. All of them are tall and toned and so strong, more in shape than you’ve ever been in your life. All of them have natural beauty and grace that you could only wish to have. 

Every Sunday for the last month, you’d spent the afternoon running or doing some kind of training in order to “fix yourself”, to look an inkling more similar to those beautiful high fae of the Inner Circle. This Sunday was no different. 

You closed the bookstore around noon and headed up to your apartment, changing into training clothes before deciding to go for a long run after a day of extremely ruthless comments. You slip out the back door of the bookstore to begin your run, but are halted almost immediately when you walk straight into a wall of leather and warm skin, shadows skittering around your shoulders as you take a step back. 

Azriel peers down at you as you frown at him, concern lacing his features when he takes you in. His heart races as you stand in front of him, excited to finally see you after not seeing you for over a week. He swears you look different every time he’s seen you recently, your frame beginning to thin out in ways that concern him, but he knows better than to bring that up. 

“S–Sorry, I didn’t see you there.” you say meekly, tugging at the sleeves of your jacket while avoiding direct eye contact with the male. 

“It’s quite alright,” he says gently, watching you closely as his eagerness extends down the bond to you. “Where are you going?”

“Was just gonna go on a run,” you reply with a shrug, feigning nonchalance as the self-doubting thoughts swirl around in your mind even more in his presence. “Did–did you need something?”

“Am I not allowed to visit my mate whenever I please?” he teases, which makes your eyes widen in fear that he’s actually upset.

“I’m sorry, I–I didn’t mean it like that!” you stammer, shaking your head at him apologetically as you take a step back, backing into the door behind you. 

“Hey, no it’s alright. I was only joking.” Azriel says quickly, one of his hands coming up to caress one of your arms. “I didn’t mean to take you by surprise, I’m sorry. I should’ve made sure it was okay that I stopped by.”

You shake your head again, blinking before looking up at him with a frown. He wants more than anything to ask you what’s bothering you, but can see that you’re obviously already distraught about whatever it is, and doesn’t want to pry. Since he’s known you, you’ve always been closed off, like him, about your emotions. So, he opts to change the subject instead. 

“I did have a real reason for coming over here though,” he suggests and you nod slowly, waiting for him to continue. “Rhysand requests your presence at dinner tonight.” 

“T–The High Lord?” you question, and Azriel nods. “W–Why is he requesting my presence at dinner?���

“Well, we have family dinner once a week, and he claims it’s not a complete family affair if my mate isn’t present.” he explains, the ghost of a smile on his lips, “I tried to tell him to fuck off, because I know you’re typically busy on Sunday nights, but he insists that you come this week, at least this once.”

There’s a pleading look in your mate’s eyes that makes you nearly melt at his feet, and you know you can’t say no to him at that moment. 

“I–I, yeah, I can come tonight.” you say finally, giving him a weak smile as he grins down at you triumphantly. 

“Perfect,” he retorts, his shadows dancing around you with equal excitement, “I’ll meet you here around five? It’s just over at the River House.” 

You nod quickly, forcing a smile onto your face as he leans in to press a kiss to your cheek before bidding you goodbye. The small gesture makes your heart flutter, but you can’t help but wonder how forced it is, can’t help but wonder if inviting you to dinner is a ploy to bring you in and publicly reject your bond.

There’s no way in hell you’re going for a run now. 

You spend the next five hours pacing around, thinking about what you’re going to wear if you want to even come close to looking as good as the other females that will be there. The clothes in your closet are few and far between, but you finally decide on your nicest dress, one that's made of a gauzy navy fabric, adorned with silver embroidered stars littered over the bodice. It’s more revealing than most clothes you wear, but it’s the closest thing you have to the clothes that the Inner Circle wear. It takes you almost an hour to feel presentable in terms of makeup and hair, and by the time you’re done, you hear a knock on the back door of the store. 

You throw your shoes on quickly before making your way down the stairs, mentally preparing yourself for the evening as you do. 

Azriel’s eyes go wide when you open the door, something like amazement and confusion mixed in his gaze as he stares you down.

“I–I’ve never seen you wear anything like this, it’s beautiful,” he starts, unable to tear his gaze from the flowy dress, “You’re beautiful.”

Your chest aches at his compliment as your mind tries to convince you that he’s lying, but you smile up at him weakly nonetheless. He extends his arm for you to take, ready to lead you to the River House across the Sidra.

The two of you are greeted by more people than you’d expect when you enter the High Lord and Lady’s home, but you recognize them all before they get a chance to introduce themselves. You’ve only met Cassian and Nesta prior to this dinner, so the first hour was spent essentially introducing yourself to each of them one-by-one. Azriel stays by your side through each introduction, hand on the small of your back as his shadows swirl around your hands comfortingly. He can tell that something in you has changed since he met you a few months back, that the light and excitement in your eyes when you first found out he was your mate has since dissipated. There’s an unmistakable lump in his throat as he thinks too much into it, wondering if you’re having second thoughts about him. 

Dinner comes and goes as smoothly as you hoped it would. The nauseous feeling roiling in your gut keeps you from eating much, only pushing the food around on the plate while taking miniscule bites to fight off any comments that any of them might have about your hesitancy. You’re only roped into conversations every once in a while, so you’re able to sit back and explore the dynamic between the group a little more without much involvement. Azriel mainly stays silent, only making a few remarks here and there. 

With a snap of the High Lord’s fingers, dessert appears in front of everyone along with more wine in each of your glasses. 

“I propose a toast,” Rhysand suggests after getting everyone’s attention, eyes landing on you finally, “to Y/N, for bringing our Shadowsinger so much happiness.”

A deep blush spreads across your cheeks as you force a smile, raising your glass as the others do too. ‘Cheers’ is mumbled by everyone before they all take a drink, and Azriel reaches over to squeeze your hand that’s sitting on the edge of the table. You turn to look at him, noting an unfamiliar look in his eyes that you nearly mistake for love, before your thoughts are interrupted by a loud laugh from Amren across the table.

“I, for one, am so grateful that Y/N finally came along after all this time.” she says with a sly grin, “because I think if she wouldn’t have, then the Spymaster would’ve continued to pine after Mor for the rest of eternity.”

There’s a collectively uncomfortable murmur from everyone at her words, and Nesta jabs her in the side with a warning glare as she notices the smile on your face falter for a split second. You could feel all color leave your face as your heart plummets to your stomach, the female’s words confirming all of your doubts about your current situation. Azriel shifts his eyes to you then, but you bring back the same composed mask to your face, the same one you’ve held for the last three months any time someone made snide remarks at you, while you try to avoid his burning gaze. You give the female a withering smile, ignoring the worried stare from the male at your side as you do. 

“Truly, I’m grateful the Cauldron deemed me worthy of being a welcome distraction to such a male like him,” you say in response with a laugh, hoping your voice comes out in a joking tone as you try to mask the disappointment in your wavering voice. 

The comment is enough to earn a few chuckles from around the table, pushing away any awkwardness that stemmed from Amren’s comment. You’re able to skate through the rest of the evening without any snide remarks from the Inner Circle, glad that you’re one step closer to getting the hell out of this house as the group finally starts to stand from the table. 

Azriel follows closely behind you as you bid everyone goodbye, exhaustion raking over your bones as you give one final wave to the High Lord and Lady before turning toward your mate.

There’s a look of worry shining in his eyes when you finally peer up at him, shadows skittering anxiously around your wrists in the meantime.

“Ready to go home?” he questions, forcing a smile onto his face as he guides you towards the front door when you nod. 

“You don’t have to walk me home, Azriel.” you start once you’re out of earshot of everyone else, stopping in your tracks to look at him again. The look on your face is almost unreadable, but his shadows whisper to him about your pain and embarrassment as the two of you stand on the outside of the front door to the River House. “I’m truly fine to go by myself, you don’t–don’t have to bother to go out of your way for me.” 

His brow furrows and a frown pulls his lips down at your words, finally seeing the slightest glimmer of sadness and disappointment shining in your eyes as you speak. He only shakes his head, taking a step towards you before he speaks. 

“I–You’re not a bother to me.” he says, unsure of what else to say to you, “If you’re upset about what Amren said, please know that she always says bullshit like that when she’s drunk, I have not thought about Mor in that way for centuries–”

“Truly, Azriel, it’s quite alright.” you interject with a pained smile. “You didn’t ask to be mated to me, I understand if you’re preoccupied with other love interests or if you just don’t want to be with me.” 

The Illyrian opens his mouth to speak, but is downright dumbfounded by your words to the point where he simply closes his mouth again. He very obviously had been reading the situation wrong this whole time, as he thought that giving you space was the right thing to do in order to let you process the very new bond from your end. He realizes then that you needed reassurance and not space, but it could very well be too late now. Before he can protest, you’re taking a step closer to him in order to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek before stepping away.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” you say, voice barely above a whisper, “I get it, I really do. And–And if you need to reject the bond and never want to see me again after tonight, I’ll understand.”

Oh, fuck. You think he wants to reject the bond. 

Hazel eyes meet yours then, and you swear you see a twinkle of regret and hurt shining somewhere between the bronzy flecks, but it’s almost undetectable. Such a miniscule expression that you tell yourself that you imagined it, that his face never changed and that he truly does not care about what you’re saying to him now. 

He shakes his head as you take another step away from him, as you turn on your toes to walk away from the townhouse, away from him. His chest feels like it’s going to cave in then, as the bond to his heart hums with a sadness he’s never felt before. He can feel the bond quivering in pain between your souls, threatening to wither away if either of you even thinks about truly rejecting the bond. 

But you don’t feel it because you’ve expertly blocked the bond out for the last month, because you truly believe that there’s no way Azriel could ever truly want you, because you’re convinced that he wants this.

There’s no hesitation in your step when you turn your back to the male, walking in swift strides towards the bridge to cross the Sidra to reach your little apartment on top of the bookstore. You refuse to let him see how much it kills you to freely offer up a rejected bond, you can’t let him see how you’re crumbling with each step you take. So you stay steady in your gait, hiding your shaking hands in front of you as you blink back the tears that threaten to spill. 

If you would’ve looked back in that moment, you would’ve seen the tears that spilled down the shadowsinger’s cheeks. If you wouldn’t have blocked out the bond in that moment, you would’ve felt the way you almost tore his heart out of his chest as you walked into the darkness. 

Azriel didn’t follow after you though, he didn’t want to make things worse than they already were. He’d fucked up so badly by not showing you how much the bond truly meant to him, by simply assuming that you needed space. 

So, he simply sent a shadow to make sure you got home safely and sat down on the front step of the townhouse. 

He sat on that step for almost two hours, staring at the stars and cursing himself for all of the mistakes he’d made. 

You only get one mate in your eternal life, and he really fucked it up this badly already?

Memories of the first few times the two of you had met replayed in his mind as he sat there, remembering how your eyes glimmered with the most love he’d ever been shown in his life.

You were shy and quiet, something he wasn’t used to from being around the Inner Circle for so long. After living with the loud, boisterous crown for centuries, he was used to emotions being expressed outright. So, he’d mistaken your meek behavior for disinterest, mistaken your nervousness for distaste. He thought you’d needed space, needed time to get used to his brooding and intolerable presence, needed room to process the sudden bond. But, fuck, was he wrong. 

Everything becomes clearer to the male as as it nears midnight. The ache in his chest becomes more and more painful with each passing minute now, and he realizes that he has to get you back, he has to fight to make you understand how much you mean to him. 

_______________________________________

Nesta Archeron started her Sunday much earlier than usual this week, thanks to her mate’s early morning departure. Cassian woke her by rustling around their shared bedroom before dawn, seemingly flustered as he tried to gather his leathers and put them on in the dark. 

“You’re not very good at being quiet, General.” she remarks tiredly, sitting up in the bed to flick one of the bedside faelights on.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, shooting her a sympathetic smile as he nearly trips over the leathers he tries to step into. “Rhys said there’s an emergency in Windhaven, Az and I are leaving soon.” 

She only hums in response, watching him finish getting dressed in comfortable silence. Cassian stands over her at the edge of the bed after tugging on his boots, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek before heading out for the day. 

Nesta knows then that she won’t be able to fall back asleep, so she decides to reach for her latest read on her nightstand. Once she grabs the book, she realizes that she’d finished the night before and is completely out of books to read. She knows then that she’ll have to make her way into town, deciding to take a trip to your bookstore at the base of the Sidra for the first time. 

She took her time getting ready, slipping into a gray dress and her usual boots before heading downstairs to eat breakfast. It was a little after seven in the morning when she made her way towards your bookstore, basking in the chilly morning air as she walked along the river.

It took her all of thirty minutes to reach the store, where she was met with a locked door and a dark front window. It was well past opening time for the store and there were no other signs on the door to suggest otherwise, but your store was definitely closed. 

“I’m not surprised,” Nesta hears a female say from behind her, giggling to her friend as they pass the storefront, “I’m sure she’s been rotting away upstairs because the Shadowsinger broke their bond or something like that. The store’s been closed all week. A lesser fae store owner like her did not deserve a male as beautiful as him.” 

Nesta turns to see the culprits of the spiteful comments and laughs, and the two High Fae females’ eyes widen upon her whipping her head towards them. 

Their smirks fall immediately, the one who was speaking starts to open her mouth but Nesta only holds up a hand to shut her up.

“I don’t know either of you females–and I’m very glad I don’t–” the sharp-eyed female spat out, “but I do know the Shadowsinger and his mate. And all I have to say is that if I hear either of you coming around here to harass her or if I hear of you spewing more lies about her relationship, I will be sure to mention it to the High Lord and Shadowsinger. I’m sure neither of them would be very happy to hear the rumors flying around.”

The females nod feverishly as Nesta stares them down with that silver fire flickering lowly in her eyes, both mumbling apologies under their breaths as they scurry away.

Nesta lets out a huff, turning on her heels to make her way towards the other bookstore across town, where she only finds two new books for herself instead of the countless romance novels she knew she would’ve found at your carefully curated store. The remarks from the two females about you aren’t lost on her as she makes her way through the city, their spiteful words and evil giggles running through her mind as she replays the scenario. 

Instead of trekking all the way back to the House of Wind after gathering her books, she makes her way to the River House in order to spend the day with her favorite person–Nyx.

The day goes by quickly between reading and rolling around with the toddler and his mother, and it’s evening before she or Feyre even realize it. Three Illyrian warriors clad in leathers make their way into the drawing room where the two females lounge on the couch, looking exhausted from a day of crisis management at the camps. 

“Long day?” Nesta says as she raises her eyebrow at the three males, stroking Nyx’s hair as he sleeps silently on her chest. 

Her mate only grunts in agreement, coming over to press a kiss to the crown of her head in greeting. The High Lord is greeted by Feyre with a loving stroke of his cheek, smiling up at him sympathetically. Azriel only stands at the threshold, looking more brooding and closed off than usual.

“Well, good news is you can tell us all about it at dinner.” Feyre suggests, trying to lighten the sour mood of the three males as she reaches for Rhys’ hand to intertwine into her own. “Nuala and Cerridwen just finished making some delicious stew and I don’t know about you all, but I’m starving.”

Dinner seems to lighten the mood quite a bit for the group, quiet conversation carrying through the dining room after Cassian and Rhysand get their complaints out for the day. Azriel sits on the other side of Feyre, silent for the majority of the meal, only engaging when Cassian involves him. 

A burning question gnaws at Nesta as she takes in the sad, hazel-eyed male, she can almost feel the pain radiating off of him from across the table as he stares intently down at the barely touched food in front of him. It’s hard to read the male, so she’s not entirely sure what the sadness is about, but she has to know eventually.

“How was your day, Nes?” her thoughts are interrupted by Cassian’s words and his elbow nudging hers lightly.

“Great, for the most part. Got to spend it with my favorite nephew,” she jokes, grinning briefly over at the babbling toddler being fed by his mother. “But I did find something very interesting on my trip to get some new books this morning.”

She notes how Azriel’s eyes flicker towards her then, intrigued by the mention of going to a bookstore.

“Oh, did you go to Y/N’s store? I’ve been meaning to ask if you wanted to take a trip over there to get some new books.” Feyre asks while forking some food for her son. 

“Well, that was the original plan.” Nesta retorts, lips pulling into a half-frown before turning towards the shadowsinger, “Have you heard from your mate lately, Azriel?”

Azriel drops the spoon he was holding into the bowl of stew with a loud clatter, obviously taken aback by the question directed towards him. The room is silent as he finally looks up, seeing four expectant pairs of eyes staring back at him, Nesta’s gaze the harshest out of all of them. 

“No, I haven’t heard from her since Saturday.” he says, willing his voice to be strong as he feels as though he’s going to throw up.

“Hm, interesting.” Nesta hums, eyes sharpening even more, if that’s even possible, “I tried to stop by the store because I finished my last novel last night, but the door was locked and the lights were all off. Then I ran into the most interesting pair of females who I overheard say that the store had been closed all week.” 

“All week?” Feyre questions, a frown on her face now too.

“You haven’t heard from your mate for a week and you haven’t thought to try to contact her?” Rhys interjects, disappointment laced in his tone as he stares down Azriel from across the table, his honed gaze rivaling Nesta’s. 

“She–She hasn’t left her apartment since last Saturday.” Azriel grits out, stopping anyone else from their questioning. “She thinks I want to reject her, to reject the bond. And I’m starting to think I should.” 

Everyone goes silent then, even Nyx’s babbling is hushed as a thick air of tension fills the large dining room. Azriel’s hands are shaking as he stares at his untouched glass of wine, shadows slashing around his wings angrily now.

“Why do you think that?” Nesta’s the only one brave enough to question him, unafraid of facing the upset male. “What makes you think you should reject the bond?”

“I fucked up. I thought she needed space, thought she was overwhelmed by me, by all of this, by being part of the Inner Circle by default.” he says, a pained expression on his face as he finally looks up to Nesta. “I hurt her and I didn’t even realize it. She needed me and I wasn’t there for her. I can’t figure out how to make it better, I–I don’t know how to take away her pain. I’ve been her mate for less than six months and I’ve already lost her trust in me. I don’t deserve such a sweet creature like her.”

“Do you want to reject the bond?” Nesta persists, and he knows she means to ask if he loves you or not.

“I don’t. But–”

“There’s no but, Azriel.” Cassian interrupts firmly, “You either want to, or you don’t. And you don’t want to reject it, I know you don’t. You’ve never been happier than you were when you realized you had a mate and that it was her. You need to get your head out of your ass, stop pitying yourself and start showing her that you want to be with her. If not, you’re going to kill the poor female. You’re gonna fucking kill her from a broken heart.”

_______________________________________

In all honesty, you don’t know what day it is anymore. You’ve sat in the dark in your apartment above the bookstore all alone for Gods know how long, letting yourself wallow in the sorrow that fills your chest every time you breathe. 

You can’t remember the last time you ate, the last time you did anything aside from stare at the wall next to your bed, save for the times that you’ve gone to the bathroom. It truly feels like you’re dying, like you’re withering away into nothing, and you might as well be. You don’t know what day it is, but you do know that Azriel hasn’t tried to contact you since you left the River House on Saturday, you do know that he wants nothing to do with you.

You hadn’t realized how much you had grown to rely on the male’s visits and nervous glances, how much they’d excited you, until they were no more. 

The golden thread in your soul quivers every time you think about him, but you don’t let yourself think about missing him for too long. You always shut down before it gets too bad, and push yourself back into the thoughts of self-hatred, the thoughts of how you wish you’d just cease to exist already. There wasn’t anyone around anymore to check on you, anyone to make sure you made it through this bout of depression like there used to be. Your sister and mother have been gone for years, and now your mate, the one who gave you a sliver of hope for the shortest time, is gone too. 

When the first knock falls on the door to your apartment, you barely hear it over the incessant ringing in your ears. You choose to ignore it, thinking whoever it is will go away eventually if they stand out in the late evening cold for long enough. 

But they don’t. 

They knock, and knock, and knock, and knock for what feels like thirty minutes, each knock getting louder and more insistent than the last. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to fall back asleep to ignore the sound, but it doesn’t work. After what feels like hours, but is probably only a few minutes, the knocking finally stops. 

What you don’t hear–or see–in that moment is the shadows that slip under the door at the bottom of the stairs, quietly unlocking it for their master to slip inside, and the other shadows ahead of their master that report back to him about your state before he makes his way up the stairs. 

Moments later, you hear the creak of the stairs and your heart sinks, but you feel too weak to move, too weak to save yourself, and for a moment, you thank the Cauldron that some intruder has finally come to put you out of your misery in one way or another.

You don’t expect the weak, broken voice of a male at the top of the stairs as you’re laying with your back towards the threshold, the sadness in an all too familiar voice when you hear, “Gods, Y/N. I am so sorry.” 

It takes every ounce of strength out of Azriel to walk over to the bed after taking in the sight of your studio apartment in complete disarray. The place is unkempt and needs plenty of repairs just from what he can see with a quick scan, but that’s not what hurts his heart the most in the moment. You facing the blank wall, staring mindlessly ahead as you’re curled up in a ball at the edge of your bed is what breaks him. He finally makes his way over to the wall that you’re facing, but you don’t look up at him, unable to take the energy to complete the small gesture.

Azriel falls to his knees in front of you, reaching a hand out to stroke your hair. He takes you in fully then–your unkempt hair, chapped lips, red cheeks and heavy eyes–you truly were dying from a broken heart.

“Y/N,” he says gently, trying to keep his voice as strong as possible while choking back tears. You take a long moment to finally look up at him, a look of confusion and then delusion crossing over your face as you do–you had to be dreaming him, right?

“I’m–I’m so fucking sorry, love. Gods, how long have you been laying here?” he says, and you only blink up at him because you’re not even sure of the answer, numb to it all at this point. “Are–Do you want me to help you? Can I help you somehow, please? I–I wanna fix this, I wanna make you better.” 

A strange noise leaves your throat then as your brow furrows at his words, your delusions during depressive episodes have never said anything like this to you before, and that’s when it all feels too real. You slowly realize that this is very much the real Azriel kneeling in front of you with tears shimmering in his eyes, clasping your very clammy hand between his very warm ones. Tears brim in your own eyes now, the weight of the entire situation hitting you like a ton of bricks. You’d ruined yourself before he’d even broken the bond, so now you’ve hurt him by somehow signaling to him of your suffering. 

“‘M sorry, A–Azriel,” you croak out, the first words to have left your lips in days. 

“S–You’re sorry?” he says, voice more stern than before, shaking his head persistently, “No–No, there’s nothing for you to be sorry about, love.” He squeezes your icy hand then, giving you a weak, bitter smile, “I’m sorry for not coming sooner, okay? I’m so sorry and I’ll apologize until the day I die for not being here for you when you needed me. I–I wanna help you now, if you’ll let me. Will you let me help you? Can I take you home with me to get you some help?” 

Despite the confusion and sadness swirling around in your deprived brain, you nod at the male, who jumps up almost immediately after you nod. He slowly peels the covers off your frail form, heart breaking at the sight of you. He pushes the ache in his chest down to be strong for you then, gently scooping you up into his arms. The two of you are engulfed in shadows seconds later as Azriel shadow-walks to the House of Wind as quickly as he can. 

You don’t remember much from your first moments at the House of Wind, other than the fact that there were a lot of people around you in a very short amount of time. You recognized some of them, the High Lord and Lady, along with Cassian and Nesta, but other faces were less familiar. One woman came into the room you laid in, tugging a warm blanket over your body before using what you could only assume was healing power on you. She’d mumbled something to Azriel on her way out before patting him on the shoulder, and that was the last thing you’d remembered before finally falling into a peaceful sleep for the first time in a week.

Sunlight streaming in through the curtains woke you later on, you weren’t entirely sure how long you’d been out for but you’re sure it had been for more than a few hours at this point. You groaned lightly as you stretched your weak legs, eyes fluttering open to take in your surroundings fully for the first time. The room smelled of mahogany and amber, a familiar and inviting scent you knew too well to not understand whose room you were in. 

Though alone at the moment, you know he’s not far, as his shadows skitter excitedly around you as you attempt to sit up in the bed. 

The door opens not even two minutes later, the shadowsinger standing in the doorway with a tray of what looked to be steaming food, a glass of water, and some medications. He nearly drops the tray when he sees you sitting up in the middle of his bed, not expecting you to already be awake and so alert. Without a word, he strides over to the large bed, placing the tray on the bedside table before sitting in the chair he’d positioned on the side where you laid.

“Hi,” he says with a sharp inhale, giving you a weak smile as he searches your eyes for any emotion he can find. 

“H–How long was I out for?” you ask meekly, the full weight of your actions crashing down on you all at once. “How long have I overstayed?”

“What?” he questions, a frown pulling his lips down as his heart sinks. You truly think you’re burdening this male, when all he wants is for you to be safe and to feel loved. “You haven’t overstayed, I brought you here to heal, I wanted you to come here to get better.”

You shake your head then, blinking harshly at him as you refuse to believe what he’s telling you. “N–No, you only came to find me because I’m–I’m stupid and didn’t give you the opportunity to reject the bond before I mourned what we never had.” you insist, looking at him with wide eyes. “I’m sorry you had to deal with all of this, please–please, you can reject it now, you don’t have to pretend anymore.”

The level of self destruction going on in your mind was on another level that Azriel couldn’t deign to comprehend in the moment, but he knew it wasn’t just by your own doing. He can see the internal turmoil you’re going through, can feel your peril down the bond that he now realizes you’ve been shrouding in your own shadows for months, can feel the way you’re tearing yourself apart from the inside out. He reaches for you then, hands coming up to cup your cheeks gently as his shadows rub soothing circles along your back to calm you down, though you continue to babble apologetically about how he should hate you and how you’re the one who should be apologizing for everything.

“Y/N, hey, hey, hey. Look at me.” he coos gently, thumbs stroking your cheekbones softly to bring you back to the moment as you finally lock eyes with him, “I don’t want to reject the bond, I never wanted to reject the bond.” 

You try to shake your head feverishly, but he doesn’t let you as his hands stay on either side of your face. “Nesta told me about some females she heard outside your store on Sunday, who said some pretty foul things about you.” he begins, having to reign his anger in as he speaks about the females, “Is that something that happened a lot at the store? Did females that come into the bookstore say things to you about us often?” 

You can’t even look at him now, dread and self-loathing gnawing at your chest as you think back to all the hateful comments thrown at you throughout the last few months. You shake your head slowly now, brow furrowing as you try to push down the bile rising in your throat. 

“No, it only happened a–a few times.” you lie bluntly, staring down into your lap as you try to pull away from his touch again and this time he lets you, watching closely as you attempt to stand from the bed. “I want to take a bath.” you say, attempting to change the subject to something less painful.

Azriel is there to catch you when you all but fall when trying to stand on your own two feet, hands landing on your waist to situate you back on the edge of the bed, “You’re not supposed to be getting up on your own yet. You didn’t eat for almost a whole week, you’re too weak to stand right now.” he says softly, hands firmly planted on your waist still, “Do you want me to take you to the bathroom? This food will still be warm when we return if you’d rather bathe now.”

You nod wordlessly, brow pinched in frustration at your current situation. Azriel easily picks you up, carrying you bridal style into the en suite bathroom and sitting you on the edge of the large tub as he draws a warm bath. He turns the tap off once it’s nearly full, turning on his heels to leave you alone in the bathroom for some privacy. 

“A–Azriel,” you call out before he shuts the door, making the male stop in his tracks to face you, heart nearly shattering when you look at him with wide, shameful eyes. “Can you help me bathe?”

The male is at the edge of the tub in an instant, nodding at you gently. He looks away as you strip out of the clothes that you’d been in for a week, tossing the dirty pajamas into a pile at your feet before stepping into the tub slowly. He helps you ease down onto the bottom, letting go of your hand he didn’t realize he’d grabbed once you tug out of his grasp to wrap the arm around your knees you pull into your chest. 

You settle into the water, letting the warmth engulf your cold limbs as you lean your head back to dip your hair, up to the scalp, into the water. Azriel gives you a few minutes to relax in the water, watching as your muscles finally relax slightly under the caress of the liquid. He reaches for the bottle of shampoo eventually, eyeing you closely as he pours some into his hands to lather it. You lean your head up as he does, giving him a small nod of invitation before he reaches for your scalp.

There’s nothing but love and tenderness behind his caress, fingers combing through your damp hair to thoroughly clean it. He’s careful with every movement, making sure to not make the wrong move and send you spiraling for one reason or another. 

It’s such a tender moment as he gently tilts you back to rinse your hair with a cup of water that it nearly makes you sob, but hold back for him to continue. 

“Can you promise me that you won’t ever let yourself get like this again?” he says, voice barely above a whisper as he runs conditioner through your hair. “I–I don’t know if I can handle seeing you so sad ever again. I won’t let you destroy yourself over my stupidity, not when I’m the one to blame for this whole situation.”

You tense at his words, chest tightening as you hear his voice crack when he chokes back tears. It takes you a moment, but you finally turn to face him, your own tears blurring your vision as you look up at the hazel-eyed male.

“It’s–It’s not your fault, Azriel.” you say, shaking your head insistently at him, “It’s my fault for making you feel obligated to be nice to me, I–I know you didn’t ask to be mated to a lowly, lesser fae bookshop owner when there’s plenty of beautiful high fae females out there ready to accept your hand in marriage at the drop of a hat. I shouldn’t have tried to pursue you after the bond snapped, I–I should’ve let you reject it then so you could go be happy with whoever you want to be with.”

“It’s you I want to be with, Y/N.” he insists, hands shaking as they fall from your head. He falls to his knees then, pivoting so he’s face-to-face with you when he continues, “I don’t care that you’re lesser fae, I fucking hate that you’re considered that anyways, it’s a disgusting term. I’m not even a high fae myself, I don’t care about title or status or whatever else, I only care that I’ve finally found my mate.” Azriel is trying his damndest to keep himself from falling apart as he speaks, “My mate, the love of my life, the one that I get to spend the rest of my days with. I know you feel like I pushed you away and I know I made you feel unwanted, but I thought you wanted space. I know now that you don’t, and I promise you that I’ll spend every waking moment, from now until we die, showing you that I am so fucking happy that you of all people are my mate. I love you.”

Whether he realizes it or not, Azriel projects his passion and love down the bond in the moment. Your deceitful brain would’ve told you he was lying had it not been for that tug and flow of warmth between your souls, if it had not been for the true, unadulterated ache you felt in your chest when he said that he was happy that you were his mate. 

Tears well up in your eyes once more as you stare at him, really taking him in, in full form, for the first time. He’s so beautiful, and though there’s a little voice in the back of your mind that still tells you that he’s lying, deep down you know that he’s all yours. Something blooms in your chest then, something stronger than you’ve ever felt, something so compelling that you can’t just sit and stare at him anymore. 

You don’t say anything as you continue to stare up at him, reaching your shaky hands out of the water to cup his cheeks. He almost flinches when you do, taken aback by you initiating the touch, but he doesn’t. With the strength gifted to you by the love confession of your mate, you’re able to maneuver onto your knees and tug him a little closer, crashing your lips into his in a gentle, watery kiss. 

“I love you, Azriel.” you murmur against his lips when you finally pull away from the kiss for a short moment. 

He smiles against your lips, pulling you back in for another kiss as his hands grip your forearms to keep you from slipping in the tub. 

“We really need to get you cleaned up before we can finish this conversation, yeah?” he encourages in between kisses, smoothing down your wet hair as it drips on the side of the tub.

You breathe out a laugh, nodding at him before turning to let him continue washing your hair, and then moving on to your body. Each touch threatens to set you on fire, but there’s no sexual intention behind them, only loving caresses meant to wash you clean of the last week of pain. 

After getting you out of the shower, Azriel slowly dresses you in one of his large shirts, mumbling an apology about how he’ll be sure to bring some of your clothes over if you’d like him to. You only smile at him softly, knowing you’ll be bringing more than a few of your items over soon enough. 

He insists that you eat after your bath, bringing you back to the bed where the soup is still steaming hot, likely thanks to the House that Azriel explained was imbued with magic and would do anything you wished it to. You eat the stew after taking the handful of medications and strength tonic that the healer, Madja, had given him for you, relishing the feeling of the warm food settling in your stomach. 

The change in your energy level after the strength tonic is astonishing. You feel as though you can run for days, but know better than to try something like that in front of your terrified mate. But, there is one thing that you feel like you need to do at the moment, something that’s long overdue.

You’re laying in Azriel’s arms when you finally get your burst of energy, sitting up abruptly enough to make him sit up with you. There’s a look of wild concern on his face when he reaches for your hips, steadying you as you pull your legs to the side of the bed. 

“Are you alright?” he questions immediately, brow furrowing when you miraculously stand on your own two feet. “Do you need something? The House can get you whatever you need.”

You give him a small smile, leaning down to caress his cheek before kissing his forehead gently. 

“I wanna get this thing myself,” you state matter-of-factly as he raises a brow at you. “You stay right here, alright?” 

Before he can protest, you’re walking towards the door of the bedroom to swing it open. You shut the door behind you, leaving the male in the room without a word. 

The House is magic alright, you confirm that when you’re on your way down the stairs and it lights the way for you, only letting the fae lights on the direct path towards the kitchen light the way. It knew exactly what you were doing. 

You’re met with a cutting board, a block of cheese, a loaf of bread and a bowl of grapes next to an empty plate when you enter the kitchen, a lone fae light above the counter lighting the area so you can prepare the plate. You make quick work of cutting the cheese and bread, trying to ignore the way your hands are shaking incessantly as you saw into the sourdough. It only takes you a few minutes to lay everything out on the plate and the House takes care of the rest, then you’re on your way back upstairs, on your way to change your life forever. 

Azriel shifts quickly on the bed when you return, sitting up straight as he locks eyes with you. His heart nearly leaps out of his chest when his eyes flicker down to the plate of food in your hand, realizing what you were up to when you left the room. 

You give him a nervous smile, gripping the plate with two hands as you make your way over to the bed, careful not to tip its contents onto the floor as you quiver. You wonder if he can hear your heart beating in the moment, as you feel like it’s about to beat through your ribcage with one more loud thump. 

“Y/N…” he trails as you shakily extend the plate to him when you perch on the edge of the bed, looking up at you with a look you can only describe as certainty. “Are you sure about this? You want to accept the bond right now?” 

“If you don’t eat this food right now, you might as well send me back to my little old apartment so I can try to die of a broken heart again.” you say, voice barely above a whisper as you give him a watery smile and push the plate closer to him.

He takes the plate from you then, but doesn’t grab any food at first, looking back up at you before he does. He leans over, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss before taking a shuddering breath.

“I promise you that after this bond is accepted, I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you that you are so much more than all of those evil things that those females said about you. I’ll spend every waking moment showing you how perfect you are and making up for the time that we didn’t get to spend together,” he begins, planting a kiss on your cheek, “I love you.”

“I love you, Azriel.” you whisper, “now eat that food, please. I’m tired of waiting.” 

He smiles at you then, leaning back on the bed as he grabs for a piece of bread and cheese, ready to spend the rest of his eternal life with you, with his mate. 

_______________________________________

It takes almost a whole month for the mating frenzy to die down enough for the two of you to be able to integrate back into society. Rhys insisted on letting the two of you stay in the Cabin for your time away, but you opted to spend your time in Summer in a secluded bungalow for the four weeks instead. 

When you do return to Velaris after your time away, Azriel insists on taking another week off from spymaster duties to get your bookstore back on track and to help move your belongings to the House of Wind while the two of you look for your very own home, somewhere closer to the Rainbow where you can continue to run your bookstore. You don’t dare to protest your mate’s wishes, letting him alternate between packing the little amount of things you have upstairs and taking inventory in the store while you run the register. 

It’s a sunny Saturday when you open your doors for the first time after over a month of being closed, and you’re much busier than you’d expected to be in all honesty, though it seems many of the females coming in are just being nosy to see how true it is that you’re actually back in the flesh. 

There are less snide remarks thrown your way now, but still enough that they make you flinch every once in a while. They don’t bother you anymore, though. During your time away, Azriel showed you how much you meant to him and how beautiful he thought you were in many ways, with his mouth, with his hands, with his tongue, with his…

“Do you think she’s single again? Like…do you think he actually rejected the bond?” you hear a high fae female say on the far end of your busy shop, her eyes darting in your direction as she speaks to a friend.

“I hope so, there’s no way he actually–Oh my Gods.” her friend says, eyes wide when they fall on none other than the shadowsinger himself emerging from the back room of your store, a dozen books in hand. 

A satisfied smile spreads across your face as Azriel walks behind the checkout counter to press a kiss to your forehead before placing the books next to you. The sound of the females whispering hastily falls on deaf ears as your mate turns to you, grabbing a small piece of paper off the top of the pile of books he’d been holding. 

“Found six more copies of both of those romance novels you said you were out of, so no need to order more until those are gone.” he says while pointing at the books. “You really need a better inventory system.”

“Hmm, maybe I’ll just hire you to do it for me instead, since you’re so good at it.” you tease, shooting him a smirk.

“As long as I’m compensated fairly, I wouldn’t mind.” he jokes with a wink, pulling you in for an embrace to speak to you lowly. “On another note, you are officially fully moved into the House of Wind. So once you’re closed up for the day, we’ll be able to go home and officially christen the bedroom.” 

“We’ve already christened that bedroom,” you giggle, rolling your eyes at him, “it’s been thoroughly christened, multiple times at this point. And if I remember correctly, it’s the first place that was christened by us.”

“And?” he says, lips quirked up into a smirk, “I plan on christening it multiple times tonight, and the next night, and the night after that…”

“Okay, I get it,” you laugh, slapping his chest lightly as you pull out of his grip, “You’re insatiable.”

“And you’re beautiful and the love of my life.” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple.

It was safe to say that you’re getting nowhere past the mating frenzy phase of your relationship anytime soon.

And you’re okay with that.

taglist (add yourself here!): @wrecklesssly @slutforwordsfr @georgiadixon @dreamloud4610 @angelbunny222 @bookishbishhh @fanficscuziranout @Buckingforbuckybarnes @thefandomplace

[precure1ove]

crush panic

summary : how they act when they have a crush

characters : all dorms (-grim &ortho)

warnings : some may be ooc, crack?, fluff, not edited, completely self indulgent everything is intended as romantic

a/n : new theme how we feeling!! my favourite is loser as its the most fun to write. im thinking of making a second part on how they confess if this does well

an absolute loser in love

he has absolutely fallen head over heels for you and now has no idea how to act normal around you anymore. the slightest bit of physical contact or praise will send him into shock, and later cause no sleep at night because he over thinks that one moment again and again. “does that mean they like me too? Or are they just being friendly?” 

yeah there's no hope for him. he acts super awkward around you, stuttering, laughing randomly, no he isn't blushing it's just suddenly hot all of the sudden-in the middle of the coldest season-he always agonizes over why he can't just act cool in front of you. during classes, if you're in his you bet he’ll just stare at you from afar, and if you're in his well he discreetly glances at you every now and then not knowing that you can clearly see him looking at you-though you don't seem to mind finding it cute.

and if you tell him that he’ll go bright red and avert his gaze “haha.. uh thanks.. I think?” cue screaming into a pillow later at night.

deuce, idia, azul, riddle, sebek + ur fav

stage five complete and utter denial

he's in complete denial. there's no way that he likes you, he must be getting sick that's why his heart beats fast when you're near with his cheeks burning a bright red. he makes it his entire goal to try and lose feelings for you, so he creates a list of all your good and bad attributions-unsurprisingly all the negative ones turn out not so bad when he puts thought into it it ...what the hell is he thinking? 

it may take a while for him to accept his feelings, so you're gonna have to endure glares when passing or in class and possible snarky comments thrown at you. However, if he hears someone is mean to you, crush be damned he can only do that to you. He tries to act completely uninterested in you, a way to fool himself that he does not like you, but the second he hears any bit of gossip he's suddenly interested. 

he looks at you weirdly, flustered at your question “uh... why am i suddenly interested in who you were with.. no reason.”

leona, ace, vil, ruggie + ur fav

doesn't realise he has a crush

oh spare this oblivious boy, he hasn't ever really liked someone before so he doesn’t know that wanting to spend more time with you, fussing over your well-being, thinking of you and how much better it would be if you were here is not what platonic friends should be thinking-especially if those thoughts lead to how would your lips feel.

someone would have to straight up tell him that he has a crush on you or he would never figure it out for himself and go on with his life never confessing. when someone finally does tell him, he’ll notice how different he really acts, catching himself waiting for your messages and dropping everything once you text back. you also get the added bonus of finally seeing him flustered! since he's in the stage of actually being involved in having a crush, every touch, smile, or praise is enough to make his face and ears turn red.

“wait so you mean wanting to kiss them is not normal?” he pauses and rethinks everything he thought about you.

silver, kalim, malleus, jack + ur fav

quick to show off to impress you

he doesn't believe he can win your heart with his personality so he works extra hard on stuff he knows he can do well-better than the average person-he believes if he impresses you by this he has a chance. surprisingly he acts rather normal with you, excluding the way he's more relaxed with your presence and the constant flush on his face.

he's rather quick to recognise his crush on you and he's even more quick to decide he needs to make himself an available suitor in your eyes. you’ve gotten used to your name being called out across the halls from him, strutting over to you to show you what he made or did last night-he'll become flustered if you praise him shrugging it off with flimsy excuses until he gets back into what he originally wanted to share albeit with a slight red face. what's even better is if he invites you out to come try it with him, enjoying the chance to spend time with you and show off in real time what he can do.

“what do you think of this, isn't it impressive? you really think so.. haha..”

trey, cater, jamil, epel + ur fav

he goes straight to courting you

he's the first to notice his change in feelings for you from platonic to romantic instantly and wastes no time to try and court you. he starts greeting you daily, offering you gifts, takes you out with the excuse of needing help and you find yourself out at a restaurant eating expensive food and wonder how the hell did you end up here when he needed a book? 

you will never catch this boy being flustered instead you'll find yourself stuttering while turning a bright red. if you enact physical contact or compliment him he flashes you a mischievous smile and teases you for ‘finally falling for him’.. no, that was not a joke. despite all the teasing he does genuinely care about you and goes out of his way to buy or make stuff he'll think you'll like, your reaction to his displays of courting amuses him especially when you make such cute faces at him. courting is just a way for him to make his feelings known, after all you were his the moment he caught feelings.

“hm.. how did we end up at a restaurant.. does it matter? now what did you choose for the meal?”

jade, rook, lilia

there's no crush. you're dating

floyd has never experienced the crush stage and he doesn't want to after all that's boring. why wait thinking about coincidental glances, and accidental contact when he knows he likes you and you like him! he's fast to let you know his feelings and won't take no for an answer why would you reject him if you like him. 

now that you think about it, you're not even sure floyd even asked you out. he just sort of grabbed your hand, said 'you're mine' and you both went to get food. so well done you're in a not relationship-relationship with a giant eel! floyd feels like he can never get bored being with you and is always by your side, or on since he's a fan of physical touch and will have some part of him touching you-an arm on your waist, legs over his, head tucked into your neck-the only time he's away from you is if jade or azul need him for the lounge and that's only for a few moments until you're also called by them to keep floyd in the lounge.

“huh, do i like you?” floyd glances at you briefly before grumbling, “we literally made out this morning and you're asking if i like you shrimpy.”

floyd

likes & reblogs appreciated

masterlist⠀ — ⠀ request here

[olive-main]

Hi hi! Ive just stumbled across your writing and i adore it so much! You capture Azriel so perfectly!! I don't really have much of a specific request in mind (but trust me, I'll think of one and come back if that's okay??) But could I ask for something with our Az and a super strong, independent, sarcastic reader. I just love the idea of totally smitten Azriel and just all the fluff. I'm so sorry this is so vague but

Happy holidays!!

No Damsels Here

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: A fiesty Valkyrie with a sharp wit and the brooding Shadowsinger find their lives slowly intertwined through training, quiet moments, and unexpected gestures, leading them to realize there may be a growing connection they can no longer ignore.

Wc: 2.7k

A/N: Ok be honest, did you hack into my account and read my drafts bcs….I had just the fic for this request rotting for far too long. I hope you enjoy, it’s not my fav since I think my writing is better now hence why it’s been in my drafts lol and it’s like semi proofread—BUT thanks to this request y’all get more fluff. Everyone say thank you! :b

——

The morning air is cool and sharp, biting at your skin as you jog toward the training ring, late as usual. The sun hasn’t fully risen yet, its rays barely spilling over the horizon, but Nesta is already there stretching, as she is every morning. Ever the Valkyrie.

“You’re late,” she remarks as you step onto the mat beside her.

“Fashionably late,” you correct, tying your hair back. “Besides, I needed an extra five minutes of sleep. Someone decided to keep me up last night with her endless talking about smutty romance novels.”

Nesta doesn’t bother to hide her smirk. “Don’t act as if you’re not interested in my books.”

Before you can retort, Cassian’s booming voice cuts through the quiet. “Alright, enough about your romance book things. You’re here to train, not gossip.”

You glance over the training grounds, your eyes instinctively flicking toward the familiar figure standing on the far edge of the ring. Azriel is adjusting the strap of his leathers, his wings half-furled behind him as he surveys the weapons laid out with his usual quiet focus.

Nesta catches the direction of your gaze and nudges you with her elbow. “Still brooding, isn’t he?”

“He’s not brooding,” you reply, a little too defensively. “He’s… serious.”

Nesta gives you a knowing look but doesn’t press further as Cassian begins pairing everyone off for sparring.

“Y/N,” Cassian calls, grinning wickedly. “You’re with Azriel today.”

You blink, trying not to focus on how your heart jumped. Across the ring, Azriel’s eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you think you see the faintest hint of amusement in his expression.

—

Sparring with Azriel is both exhilarating and frustrating. He’s fast—almost impossibly so—and he moves with a precision that leaves no openings. You’re strong and quick on your feet, but against Azriel, every strike feels like a gamble.

“You’re hesitating,” he murmurs, dodging your swing with ease.

“I’m calculating,” you snap back, twisting to block his next move.

His lips twitch, the faintest ghost of a smile. “You’re thinking too much.”

“And you’re talking too much,” you retort, aiming a strike at his side.

He blocks it effortlessly, his wings shifting slightly as he steps into your space. For a moment, you’re close enough to catch the faint scent of cedar and something darker, something so distinctly him.

“Focus,” he says, his voice low and even, and you can’t help the way your pulse quickens.

But you don’t let him see that. Instead, you smirk and lunge to the left before sweeping his legs out from under him. He lands on his back with a soft thud, his wings flaring slightly to cushion the fall.

“Gotcha,” you say, planting your hands on your hips.

Azriel props himself up on one elbow, looking up at you with an expression that’s almost impressed. “Not bad.”

“Not bad?” you echo, laughing. “That was a textbook takedown.”

From across the ring, Cassian claps his hands. “That’s my girl! Show him who’s boss, Y/N!”

You smile proudly at Cassian, bowing exaggeratedly before turning back to Azriel with a proud smirk.

“Again?” he asks, his tone calm but with a flicker of challenge in his eyes.

“Obviously,” you reply, and the sparring begins anew.

—

You’re sitting on the edge of the ring after the session, toweling the sweat from your face as the others disperse. Nesta sits beside you, nursing a bottle of water and watching Azriel, who’s speaking quietly with Cassian.

“You know he likes you, right?” Nesta says, breaking the silence.

You choke on your water. “What?”

Nesta gives you a look, one brow arched in that infuriatingly smug way of hers. “Don’t play dumb. He’s been watching you all morning.”

“He watches everyone,” you argue, though your voice lacks conviction.

“Not like this,” Nesta counters. “Trust me, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. It’s different.”

You shake your head, refusing to entertain the idea. “He’s just… observant. It’s his job.”

Nesta doesn’t respond, but her silence is louder than words.

—

Over the next few weeks, you start to notice the little things. The way Azriel lingers near you during training, offering quiet pointers or stepping in to demonstrate a move. The way he always seems to know when you’re pushing yourself too hard, handing you a water bottle or calling for a break just as your muscles start to protest.

And then there are the gloves. The day before you’d worn down your leather gloves to their last seam, small tears at the knuckles.

You find them waiting for you one morning, neatly folded and left on the bench where you always sit. They’re sleek and well-crafted, the leather soft and pliable. With your name written on a piece of parchment laid neatly on them, in his writing.

“Nice gloves,” Nesta remarks as you slip them on.

“They’re… new,” you say, frowning slightly.

“Azriel left them,” she says, her tone far too casual.

You freeze, glancing at her. “How do you know that?”

Nesta smirks. “Because I saw him put them there.”

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, Azriel approaches, his expression as unreadable as ever.

“Do they fit?” he asks, his gaze flicking to the gloves.

You nod, flexing your fingers. “Perfectly. Thank you.”

He inclines his head, his lips curving into the faintest smile before he turns and walks away.

“Hopeless,” Nesta mutters under her breath, but you don’t bother arguing this time.

—

It’s late one evening when Azriel finds you sitting on the balcony of the House of Wind, staring out at the twinkling lights of Velaris below.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks, his voice soft as he steps into the night air.

You glance over your shoulder, surprised but not unwelcome. “Something like that.”

He leans against the railing beside you, his wings folding neatly behind him. For a while, neither of you speaks, the quiet stretching between you like a warm blanket.

Finally, Azriel breaks the silence. “Something is on your mind”

“Oh? Am I that easy to see through Shadowsinger?” you ask, turning to face him.

“No, not always” he says, his hazel eyes meeting yours. “But you only come out here when something is.”

You hesitate, unsure how to respond. But before you can, he continues, his voice low and steady.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he says. “But if you ever want to, I’m here.”

The sincerity in his tone takes you off guard, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him.

“Thanks,” you say finally, your voice softer than usual.

He nods, his gaze lingering on you for a heartbeat longer before he turns back to the view.

The silence stretches, comfortable but crackling with unspoken words. You lean your elbows on the railing, the cool metal pressing against your skin. Azriel doesn’t move, his presence steady beside you, a quiet sort of comfort.

“So,” you say at last, breaking the stillness. “Is brooding a full-time job for you, or do you just do it in your free time?”

His lips twitch, though he doesn’t take his eyes off the city below. “Depends. Are you asking because you want tips?”

A laugh escapes you, sharp and unrestrained. “Please, I could out-brood you any day of the week.”

Azriel turns his head slightly, enough that you can see the amusement flickering in his hazel eyes. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Oh, you will,” you quip, straightening up and crossing your arms. “But don’t come crying to me when I leave you in the shadows.”

“I don’t cry,” he replies smoothly, his expression as impassive as ever.

You snort, shaking your head. “No, of course not. The great spymaster of the Night Court doesn’t have emotions, right?”

His mouth curves into the faintest smile, and for a moment, you swear you see something softer beneath the usual calm exterior.

“Wrong,” he says quietly.

The sincerity in his tone catches you off guard, and for once, you’re at a loss for words. Before you can respond, Azriel shifts, his wings rustling softly as he straightens.

“I should let you get some sleep,” he says, his voice low and even.

“Sure,” you reply, recovering quickly. “I’ll need it for when I take you down in training tomorrow.”

His soft chuckle is the last thing you hear before he disappears into the shadows, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts.

—

The next morning, you’re determined to shake off the lingering feelings from last night. You throw yourself into training with a vengeance, sparring with Nesta and Cassian until your muscles burn and your breath comes in ragged gasps.

But no matter how hard you push yourself, you can’t ignore the fact that Azriel’s eyes are on you. He’s not overt about it, of course—he never is. But you’ve gotten good at reading him.

“Do you think he’s capable of blinking?” you mutter to Nesta during a break, jerking your chin in Azriel’s direction.

Nesta smirks, following your gaze. “Why? Is it distracting you?”

“Hardly,” you scoff. “I just don’t want him pulling something from all that intense staring.”

“Maybe he’s impressed,” Nesta says, her tone teasing.

You roll your eyes. “He’s impressed by my fighting skills, obviously. Who wouldn’t be?”

“Obviously,” Nesta echoes, her smirk growing.

“Don’t start,” you warn, grabbing your water bottle.

Nesta raises her hands in mock surrender, but you can see the gleam in her eye.

—

After training, you’re stretching near the edge of the ring when Azriel approaches. You glance up, noting the slight crease in his brow as he surveys the scrape on your arm.

“You should get that looked at,” he says, nodding toward the cut.

“It’s nothing,” you reply, brushing it off. “Barely a scratch.”

Azriel doesn’t look convinced. He crouches beside you, pulling a small vial of salve from his pocket.

“Hold still,” he murmurs, reaching for your arm.

You consider protesting, but the look in his eyes stops you. So instead, you sit there, watching as his fingers work with careful precision, his touch surprisingly gentle.

“You know, this is the second time you’ve fussed over me this week,” you say, breaking the silence. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to impress me.”

Azriel doesn’t look up, but you catch the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. “Is it working?”

The question takes you off guard, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to respond. So instead, you settle for sarcasm.

“Not yet,” you say, grinning. “But keep trying. You might get there eventually.”

His quiet laugh sends warmth curling through your chest, and as he finishes wrapping your arm, you find yourself wishing the moment would last a little longer.

—

Later that evening, you’re in the kitchen with Nesta, raiding the cabinets for a late-night snack.

“So,” she says casually, popping a grape into her mouth. “What’s going on with you and Azriel?”

You freeze mid-reach, turning to glare at her. “What do you mean, ‘what’s going on?’”

Nesta shrugs, far too nonchalant. “I mean, he practically hovered over you all day. And don’t think I didn’t notice him patching you up earlier.”

“It was a cut,” you say defensively. “Hardly life-threatening.”

“Uh-huh.” Nesta leans against the counter, studying you with those sharp eyes of hers. “And the gloves? Or the way he’s always watching you during training?”

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’re imagining things.”

“I’m really not,” Nesta replies, a sly smile creeping onto her face.

“Well, even if he does… like me, that’s his problem,” you say, crossing your arms. “I’m not some damsel in distress, waiting for someone to sweep me off my feet.”

“No,” Nesta agrees, smirking. “But maybe you’re someone who could use a little… sweeping.”

You throw a grape at her, and she laughs, ducking out of the way.

—

The realization of Azriel’s attention lingers in your mind longer than you’d like to admit. You try to shake it off—try to convince yourself that it’s just his nature to watch everyone, to care quietly. But there’s a warmth to his gaze when it falls on you, a softness that feels different, deliberate.

And once you notice it, you can’t stop seeing it.

Like during training the next day, when Cassian barks at everyone to do laps. You’re running alongside Nesta, your legs burning and breath hitching, when Azriel quietly falls into step beside you.

“Don’t overthink your breathing,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

You glance at him, eyebrows raised. “I’m not overthinking it.”

His lips twitch, almost imperceptibly. “You were counting your breaths.”

You narrow your eyes, your tone laced with mock offense. “You’re watching me breathe now? That’s not creepy at all.”

Azriel doesn’t rise to the bait, but the faintest smirk graces his lips. “Just trying to help.”

“Uh-huh,” you reply, rolling your eyes. But when you refocus on your breathing, following his advice, the run feels a little easier.

—

A few days later, you find yourself in the House of Wind’s library, searching for a book Nesta recommended, the one she had mentioned to you a few days ago. You’re muttering under your breath, cursing the ridiculously high shelves, when a familiar voice speaks behind you.

“Need help?”

You whirl around to find Azriel standing there, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Not unless you’ve got a ladder hidden somewhere,” you reply, crossing your arms.

Azriel steps closer, his wings shifting as he glances up at the shelf. “Which one?”

You point to the book near the top, and without a word, Azriel extends a wing, brushing it against the shelf as he pulls the book down with practiced ease.

He hands it to you, his fingers brushing yours briefly. “There.”

You take the book, trying not to let the warmth of his touch distract you. “Thanks. I guess having wings is good for more than just flying, huh?”

His smile widens slightly. “They’re versatile.”

“Show-off,” you mutter, but there’s no bite to your tone.

Azriel doesn’t respond, just tilts his head as if studying you. The silence stretches, heavy but not uncomfortable, and you find yourself wondering what’s going on behind those hazel eyes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask finally, your voice sharper than you intend.

Azriel blinks, as though pulled from his thoughts. “Like what?”

“Like you’re trying to figure something out,” you say, narrowing your eyes.

He hesitates, his gaze steady but unreadable. “Maybe I am.”

Before you can press him further, he nods toward the book in your hands. “Enjoy your reading.” And then he’s gone, slipping back into the shadows as easily as he came.

—

The tension between you grows, subtle but undeniable. It’s not something you can ignore anymore—not when his gaze lingers just a second too long, or when his words carry a weight you can’t quite name.

One evening, after another long day of training, you find yourself wandering the halls of the House of Wind. You end up on the same balcony where Azriel joined you that night, the city lights below twinkling like stars.

You’re not surprised when he appears again, his presence so quiet you almost don’t notice until he’s standing beside you.

“Do you ever sleep?” you ask, glancing at him.

“Rarely,” he admits, his voice soft.

“Figures,” you mutter, leaning against the railing.

The silence stretches, but this time, it feels charged, as though both of you are waiting for the other to speak.

Finally, Azriel breaks the quiet. “You confuse me.”

You blink, turning to face him. “What?”

“You’re strong, stubborn, sarcastic…” He trails off, his lips curving slightly. “But you care. Even when you try not to show it.”

You stare at him, caught off guard by the honesty in his tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he says, his gaze meeting yours, “that you make it very difficult to stay in the shadows.”

His words hang in the air, and for once, you don’t have a witty comeback. You’re too busy trying to process the way your heart is racing, the way his eyes seem to see straight through you.

“Well,” you say finally, your voice quieter than usual. “Maybe it’s time you stepped out of them.”

Azriel’s smile is small, but it’s real. And in that moment, with the stars above and the city below, you feel something shift between both of you—something neither of you are sure you can ignore anymore. Not when he feels that golden thread that glows in his chest, connecting his soul to yours.

——

Are y’all interested in a tag list?? I’m gonna be more consistent in posting hehe.

Thank you for reading my lovely humans. Requests are still very open ;)

[majestyeverlasting]

Hellooo, can I please request a Joel miller x reader oneshot where the reader had a really bad day at work and she’s calling him from the bathroom crying and he immediately rushes to pick her up? 🥰🩷

𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

Pairing Joel Miller x Female Reader 

Summary A disheartening setback at work leads you to call Joel, who always knows exactly what you need [fluff, 1.6k].

A/N Thank you so much for this request and your patience, anon! Really enjoyed writing this one.

∘°∘♡∘°∘

Hi, are you busy right now?

A heavy exhale is freed from your chest the moment you hit send. It’s quiet in the bathroom except for the rhythmic drip of the leaky sink faucet. Muffled voices arise from the hallway as people pass by, some preparing to commute home. Warm tears stream down your cheeks. 

No sooner does your phone vibrate to life, a picture of you and Joel at McKinney Falls filling the screen. There isn’t much time to compose yourself before you press the accept button with a shaky thumb. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Got done early today, we’re cleaning up the site,” Joel greets, wind in the background. Tommy’s voice emits from nearby as well, followed by rowdy, cackling laughter. “Hold on a second, lemme get someplace quiet.” 

“Okay,” you murmur. 

There’s shuffling on his end of the line that eventually subsides. It’s still worth clinging to even though he’s miles away. 

“Sorry about that. Everything alright?” Concern dances around the edges of his words. You can tell he’s trying to keep them from being consumed. 

After Sarah moved out for college, he’d gotten better at accepting that every phone call he received from her didn’t automatically mean trouble. Most of the time, she simply wanted to catch up now that she lived two hours away. 

However, the opposite was true between you and Joel. Nowadays, you spend so much time together that there’s seldom a need to talk on the phone. The fact that you were calling him, from work, no less, meant something was up. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, but it doesn’t do much for the wavering of your voice when you finally speak up again, “Just wanted to hear your voice.” 

Your subsequent sniffle makes him grow still. You can see it through the phone. It’s in the way he doesn’t immediately respond, gears undoubtedly turning in his head. 

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” There’s a gentle, almost melodic quality to his voice that makes you wish you could lay your head on his chest and feel the rumble of his words. 

“Today’s just been a lot,” you tell him. “You know Alexander, the Bulletin’s editor?” He makes a small sound of affirmation. “It wasn’t his decision, but he pulled me aside to let me know my feature has been put on hold for further revision.” 

Relaying the news makes fresh tears well in your eyes. Over the past few weeks, Joel has watched you pour yourself into each stage of constructing the story to do the subjects justice—the meticulous research, heartfelt interviews, and late nights perfecting every draft. 

It was a labor of love, a piece that sought to illuminate the struggles of longtime Austin residents, artists, and small business owners navigating the challenges of gentrification and displacement. 

“Something about it being redundant.” Which, for all you knew, could be higher-up code for we don’t want this stepping on the toes of donors with deep pockets.  

“You’re kidding,” Joel grouses, disappointed for you. 

You shake your head even though he can’t see you. “I wish I was,” you breathe. “Redundant, yet they’ve got room for age-old dieting tips and holiday gift guides every year,” you say, voice wavering. 

“I know, I hear you. I’m so sorry, baby,” he soothes, releasing a heavy sigh. “At least it hasn’t been canned entirely. That’s worth something.”  

He’s right, but it still feels like a slap in the face considering all the time invested. From you and everyone who shared their story. 

“It just sucks,” you sniffle. “I didn’t get enough sleep last night, and now I feel even worse.” A dull ache has settled in your temples. 

Shuffling arises on Joel’s end of the line again, and you remember that he’s still on site. 

“I’m sorry. You can go if you need to.” 

Instead, he comes back with, “Hang tight, okay? Gonna come get you.” 

When you bite your lip instead of responding, he keeps talking, “Should be there in twenty, give or take.” 

As appealing as it sounds to be whisked away, reality is quick to set in. 

“No, it’s fine, Joel. Tommy and the guys need you. I couldn’t ask you to do that.” 

“Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t good for it,” he replies. 

•••

Outside, you’re met with a relaxed breeze and the dwindling warmth of downtown, where the sun eases towards the horizon. A few tourists mill around, men and women in business casual stride by with messenger bags. At Joel’s truck, which is parallel parked across the street, he gets the door for you. An 80s station plays low on the radio, Bruce Springsteen’s Born to Run faintly recognizable. 

You watch as he rounds to the driver’s side in that relaxed stride you love. He looks handsome despite his mused hair and the specks of dried paint on his shirt. When he climbs in, you’ve taken notice of the ice-cold raspberry tea in the cupholder closest to you. 

Along the way, he’d stopped and gotten it from the cafe you and Sarah frequented whenever she was visiting from school. You only went alone as an occasional treat, but he knew how much you liked it. 

A smile buds on his face when you pick it up and take a grateful sip. There’s a softness to his gaze that makes warmth bloom in your chest. With him, even the little things seemed to say, I see you. 

When you extend the cup his way in a silent offer, he waves you off. However, curiosity gets the better of him after he pulls off the curb. “Guess a sip won’t hurt.”

For the first time in what feels like hours, you smile when Joel hums at the flavor. For a moment, it doesn’t feel like the world is ending anymore. When he places his hand on your thigh, you intertwine your fingers with his, and he gives your hand a squeeze. 

A comfortable silence settles between you. It isn’t until you’ve left downtown that Joel speaks up again, voice measured and sure, “Your story will get out. Those guys know good journalism when they see it, and they’re gonna have to run it.” 

You glance over at him, your lower lip caught between your teeth as hope kindles in your chest.

“Hell, I’ll make my own publication if that’s what it takes. The Miller Times.” 

A chuckle bubbles out of you, but you could cry at the same time. For an entirely different reason this time. 

“I could get in trouble for going to a different publisher,” you remind him, running your thumb over the back of his hand as a small smile plays on your lips. “I’m on staff.”  

“I know, honey.” Joel squeezes your hand, a playful glint in his eyes. “Admit it, though. You thought about it for a second. The Miller Times has a nice ring to it.” 

He can see you fighting against your growing smile. “It’s alright.” 

“I’ll take that,” he concedes. Then, a greater air of sincerity settles over him. “What’s that one saying—setbacks are setups for something better.” 

You nod, gazing out the window as you turn into his neighborhood. 

“Don’t let this weigh you down.” 

You felt worlds lighter with him. 

•••

The warm spray of the shower feels so good against your skin that you remain under it even after the day’s troubles have washed away. Three months ago, you would’ve had to use Joel’s body wash, but your products and belongings had since made their way here. Some, he bought because he knew you’d be around, and others—namely, clothes—that migrated from your apartment. 

The word home has lost its shape in that regard. Not in a detached way of not belonging in any one place, but in that Joel’s house had begun to feel like just as much of a home as your cozy one-bedroom a few miles away. 

When you finally step out of the shower, a towel wrapped around yourself, you can see straight into the bedroom, where Joel is stretched across the bed. The sound of the shower door closing prompts him to sit up with a low grunt. You offer a shy smile upon meeting his gaze. 

“Promise I’m not creepin’ around,” he says, standing to his feet. “Just wanted to see if your headache was gone. Can bring up some Tylenol if you need it.” 

“It’s fine. I feel better now,” you assure. With a satisfied nod, he turns to leave with the intent of giving you space, but stops in his tracks when you speak up again, “You’re allowed to creep around if you want. I don’t mind.” 

Joel saunters into the bathroom doorway, propping an arm against the frame. The motion causes his bicep to strain against the sleeve of his shirt. Getting to see you like this, the intimacy of it all, always makes him feel grateful and warm. 

“Oh, yeah?” 

“You’re the boss,” you lilt.

With a low chuckle, Joel pushes out of the doorway and moves to stand behind you. You stare at your joint reflection as he rests his large hands on your hips, then leans down to press a delicate kiss to your bare shoulder. His frame is broad and rugged behind you, but his eyes are kind. 

When you rest your hands over his, he presses a second kiss to the crook of your neck. Then another just beneath your ear. His lips are so soft and warm against your damp skin that you can’t help the shiver that runs down your spine and makes you press back into him. 

“I like you like this,” he whispers. “Relaxed…smiling.”

Now that you’re in his arms, it’s hard to imagine having stayed at the newsroom. With the meetings, chatty colleagues, and constant blue light. It’s quieter here with Joel. The world at large has disappeared while your smaller one keeps turning.

“I didn’t realize how much I needed this,” you admit. 

But Joel did. He always did. 

-

Thank you so much for reading. Like, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. I promise I see them all.

MORE

[writting-stuff-sometimes]

Play with fire Pt 2- LN4 X Fem reader

Pairing: Lando x Y/n Fewtrell

Warnings: physical Fight

Notes: Here's the second part, it gets messy but I'm almost done with part 3, so it won't be long for it to get better. As always, feedback is really appreciated, and receiving requests.

Thanks for the love.

Part 1

_______

It was the sixth month anniversary with Lando and you had planned to spend one whole week together in Mónaco. As part of the plan, he leased a villa and invited Max, Pietra, and a couple friends to Nice for the last days of the summer break. A few days later he lied and told them he was needed back at the MTC a week early but convinced them to stay back for the remaining days, and you lied to your parents saying you were spending that week with Leah, your bff.

It was day 3 of eating junk food, watching trash TV, and having sex 24/7. You had never been more in love with the man sleeping beside you. Your head on his chest, his soft snoring so relaxing you had no idea how you would be able to fall asleep without him every night.

"Hey mate, are you here?" Your brother's voice made your heart stop. Were you dreaming? "Bob!" Yup, it was your brother.

"Lan, baby" you moved him softly enough not to scare him.

"Yaaaawww" He yawned loudly "Hi bab-"You covered his mouth. His eyes stared at you confused.

"Max is here" You whispered.

"What?"

"Lando, are you here mate? Your car is in the garage" You could see his soul leave his body.

"What is he doing here?" you asked

"No idea!"

You heard a suitcase rolling down the hallway.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck" You started panicking.

"Shh, everything is going to be ok. Stay here" he kissed your lips and stood up, putting on his boxers and joggers. "Be right back" he whispered, and walked out, closing the door behind him. You stood up, put on your pajamas, and rushed to press your ear to the door.

"Hey Mate"

"Oh hey, I thought you were at the MTC"

"Oh, yeah, we finished early"

"It's Wednesday, I thought you were staying there the whole week"

"Yeah, nah, came back this morning"

"That must be a record"

"Yeah, great results"

"Sounds like it"

"What are you doing here?" Lando was trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, but damn was he a bad actor.

"Oh, I messaged you yesterday, P, wasn't feeling well so we decided to return early. You didn't get it?"

"I...I don't even know where I left my phone"

"Oook" Your brother stared at Lando trying to figure out why he was behaving weirdly.

"So, I'm hungry. Do you want to go eat something? Do you want to go get some pizza?" Lando tried to get Max away from the house so you had enough time to figure out a plan. As much as he had been waiting and begging for you to come clean, this was not how he would like to do it.

"Nah, thanks. Actually, P is downstairs sleeping in the car. Plus, I'm not sure if I'm tired from the drive or if I've caught whatever she has; I feel weird, so I'm just taking a quick shower, and I'll spend the night over at her hotel in case she needs something."

"Oh, ok, yeah, that sounds good" You and Lando could finally breathe.

"Are you ok mate? You look flustered"

"Yeah, nah, I'm just tired, it's been quite a week"

"Yeah, I imagine. I'm going to take a quick shower and will be out of here so you can rest"

"Ok, fine, yes"

Your brother went to the guest room, Lando waited until Max's door was closed to go inside his.

"Fuck, that was scary" You whispered still worried Max could hear you from across the hall. "And you're such a terrible actor"

"Hey, I'm not that bad"

"Yeah, you are" You hugged him, placing your head against his chest as his hands caressed your hair. The sound of the shower calming your rushing hearts.

"I have to admit tho" He pushed you away lightly so you were facing him. "This was kind of hot"

"What?"

"Yeah, like this rush, it makes me almost not want to tell him and see how much we can keep sneaking around"

"You're sick" You stared at him, a half smile on your face.

"This is what you've done to me, you've made me a sick, obsessed, unsatiable man" He made a fist with your hair and pulled you to join your lips in a wild kiss.

"Mate, do you have-" Your brother knocked on Lando's door but opened it immediately, a beautiful habit he's had since childhood.

You all stared at each other in shock.

It was a scene straight out of a comedy or a horror movie, depending on who you asked.

You could see your bother's mouth trying to voice his thoughts, but there were too many. The moment you saw his jaw clench you knew you had to speak before Lando did. You loved the man but even with all the PR training, he was the worst at this kind of situation.

"Max, listen" You started in a low voice, taking a step toward him without letting go of Lando's hand. Your bother just raised his hand, one finger up signaling you to wait. "Max, everything's fine, ok?"

"No" He said, his voice so low it was almost scary

"Yes" You tried to remain calm, and so did Lando but the thigh grip he had on your hand told you he was as nervous as you.

"You're fucking my little sister?" He finally voiced the loudest thought in his head, his eyes piercing holes into Lando's.

Not that you were sensitive to the word fuck, but this time it made your skin crawl, being used by your brother to describe what you and Lando had felt just wrong.

"Mate, wait" Lando mimicked your calm voice.

"I'm not your mate!" Your brother raised his voice and you squeezed Lando's hand as a silent request to remain calm. "Mates-don't-fuck- their-mates-sisters" You could see his arms tense, his fingers white from the tight fists.

"We're not fucking" He answered.

"Oh no? Then what's happening here?" He walked in the room pacing around in a frenetic way.

"Both your clothes everywhere, the bed a fucking mess, the condom box on the nightstand? Tell me Lando, what is it that I'm seeing?"

"Max, listen" Max's eyes fixed on your intertwined fingers.

"You shut up, wait until Mom and Dad know about this"

"Don't talk to her like that" Lando tried to defend you but you placed your hand on his chest trying to hold him back.

"I'm not a child anymore Max, I'm a grown-up"

"Oh please, you're a freaking child, and fucking Lando proves it"

"Whether you like it or not, I'm an adult now, and I get to choose who I date, no matter what you or our parents have to say about it"

"Date? You're dating him?"

"Yes" You answered confidently.

"Listen, mate, I love her, ok?" His voice in a calm yet confident tone that made your heart rush with love.

"I'm going to kill you"

"Max" You could read in his body language he was about to lose it.

"I'm going to kill you, Lando"

"Max, wait, please" You tried to place yourself between them but before you knew it your brother was pushing Lando against one of the walls, his forearm pressing his neck as he pushed him hard, Lando tried to push Max away without hurting him.

"Max, wait, what the fuck?" You tried to get close to them.

"Y/n, no, stand back" Lando yelled at you when he saw you were getting closer.

"You're a fucking morron" Your brother kept pushing Lando against the wall.

You rushed to the nightstand and took your phone from the charger ringing Pietra.

"Hello?" The calm sleepy voice on the other side of the line was the complete opposite of the scene right in front of you. You felt bad for bringing her into this, but you needed help to get your bother to calm down, and she was your best option.

"P, you need to get up here, please"

"Y/n? Where are you?"

"Lando's apartment, please, get up here now!" You hung up hoping she was on her way.

"Mate, listen to me, I swear to God, this is not what you think" Lando tried to use his calmest voice possible, trying just to cover himself from the fists being thrown around by your brother.

"Max, stop it! You're behaving like an animal, stop!" You tried to get your brother off your boyfriend but he kept pushing you back.

You heard the door panel beep and then the door opened.

"Over here!" you yelled trying to lead her to the master bedroom, not that the sound of stuff being thrown around wasn't going to lead her there anyway,

"What's happening?" She stared in shock at the scene in front of her "Max, stop it" She tried to approach the fighting men but they pushed her back too.

"Maximilian, you have to calm down, now!" P's voice actually worked, getting your brother to stand back.

"P, this is between Lando and me"

"No, it's not!" You yelled back at him.

"You shut up! Grab your things, you're coming with me right away"

"No"

"Y/n, I'm not playing!"

"Neither am I, I'm not leaving with you, Max"

"Aaaahhh" Your brother screamed and squatted down covering his head with his hands. Pietra was about to walk over to him but you stopped her, asking her to let you go first.

"Max" You said softly walking over to him. Slowly you placed your hand over his shoulder "Max, please you have to listen to us, please"

"Screw you two" He stood up, took P's hand, and walked out of the apartment slamming the front door.

You sighted in defeat, at least he wasn't punching Lando anymore, but it was so painful to see your brother so hurt.

"Baby" You walked over to Lando who was walking back to the bed, holding his ribcage "Are you ok?"

"Yes, I've had worst on track"

"Let me see" You held his face inspecting it, he had a couple of red bruises here and there, but most of the damage had been done to his chest and shoulders. You started shaking.

"Baby" You hugged him, falling to your knees in front of him, tears finally flooding your eyes.

"Shhh it's ok, it will all be ok" He hugged you tightly against his chest, he could feel slight pain but soothing you was more important.

He pulled you up and placed you on the bed, holding your thigh against him.

"It will be ok" he said softly against your hair.

"I know" You answered back between sobs.

"Well, the cat's out of the bag" Lando tried to joke the tension away.

"You think we should've told him sooner?"

"He might have reacted the same, so I'm afraid any time would've led to the same result"

You remained on the bed, with many questions in your heads. Now that Max knew you had to tell your parents, he would probably do everything he could to have them on his side. What was going to happen to Quadrant? Not that Lando didn't trust he could convince Max this wasn't a bad thing, but fear lingered there.

You stood from the bed and started picking up the mess the fight had left.

"Baby come here-"

"Lan, this helps me, let me just... if I can't fix the situation I can at least fix this"

He stood up and helped you clean.

After what felt like an hour or two your phone dinged.

Pi 🌸 Max is calm now, he has agreed to go back up and talk with you guys, we'll be up in a second, but please no PDA for now!

"Lan, they're coming back up, let's go sit in the living room"

"So he can break more stuff?" You stared at Lando "Sorry, no more jokes"

"And no hand holding or kissing, or hugging"

"Are you serious?"

"Just until we get him to listen to everything we have to say"

"Fine"

You waited for your brother in the living room, sitting on opposite sides of the sofa.

You heard the lock panel and your heart rushed. Your brother opened the door letting Pietra in first, she walked all the way next to the sofa but your brother remained at the door.

"Ok, I'm here, talk" His voice was a version you had never heard before.

"Max, we're sorry we didn't come forward about this sooner, I'm sorry, I just, I had no idea how to tell you" You spoke first.

A sarcastic snort left his body as he crossed his arms.

"Love" Pietra stared at him.

"Fine, continue" He rolled his eyes.

If only your brother knew he was responsible for this happening.

______________________________

Part 1

If I missed someone on the tag list let me know, also let me know if you'd like to be added.

Tag List: @wtrmlnsgr94, @ricsaigaslec, @ironmaiden1313, @formulas-bitch, @f1fantasys, @formulaal

[vminsos]

@hosam-2 - post | fundraiser

@hosam-2 message: "Hi, I hope this message finds you well. We’ve launched a campaign to support Hussam in Gaza, who is dedicating his time to feeding dozens of abandoned animals left behind by the conflict. Any donation, no matter how small, can make a huge difference in saving these innocent lives. Please consider visiting the campaign link and contributing if you're able to. Thank you so much for your kindness"

@nooribrahim24 - post | fundraiser

@nooribrahim24 message: "Hello, I am Noor from Gaza. I need your help urgently, My mother is now in intensive care on an oxygen machine. I am very afraid of losing my mother, She needs an operation urgently."

@aisha20586 - post | fundraiser

@aisha20586 message: "Please, my friend, donate to me. The situation is very, very difficult. My children are suffering from hunger, illness, and extreme cold in the tent. We are hungry. There is no food, no drink, no milk to breastfeed my children, not even diapers. My husband is sick and cannot work, and we do not have money to buy. Please help me and my family. Thank you very much."

@assifamilygaza3 - post | fundraiser

@assifamilygaza3 message: "❤️🍉 Our support is very weak. I am Nour from Gaza, a mother of three children. I gave birth to my baby a few days ago during the war. I was born under very difficult circumstances. The war made us lose everything. I don't have money to buy milk🍼, diapers or clothes for my baby. My newborn baby needs emergency surgery affecting his growth that costs $350. Please help save my child Hamza 😭💔🙏 Support us with Christmas gifts with your donations to us and help us with your support😿 Please look at us with mercy"

@mssb9994 - post | fundraiser

@mssb9994 message: "

🚨 We Need Your Kindness to Survive 🚨

Hello, My name is Mosab Elderawi, and I live in Gaza with my family. Life here has become harder than I ever imagined, and I’m writing this with hope in my heart that you might hear our story.

The ongoing war has devastated my family. We’ve lost 25 family members—each one a beloved part of our lives, taken too soon. I miss them deeply—their laughter, their presence, their love. Every day is a reminder of this unimaginable loss.

We are now facing daily challenges to survive—things that most people take for granted, like food, clean water, and a safe place to sleep. The harsh realities of life here have replaced our dreams with the constant fight for survival.

Our Current Situation:

💔 Lost Stability: The war has left us without work or a stable source of income. 🍞 Basic Needs: Food and water are becoming harder to afford with rising prices and scarce resources. 📚 Dreams on Hold: Like so many here, my family’s dreams have been replaced by the need to simply survive. 😢 Unimaginable Loss: Losing 25 loved ones has left a void that can never be filled.

How You Can Help:

I’m sharing our story with the hope that someone out there might care. Even $5 can make a big difference for us, and if you’re unable to donate, just reblogging this post can help spread the word.

Your kindness, no matter how small, is something we’ll never forget.

What This Means to Us:

Your support is not about changing our entire situation—it’s about giving us a little relief, a little hope, and a way to keep going. We are not asking for much, and we understand if you can’t donate. Sharing our story is just as valuable to us as a donation.

Thank you for reading this far. It means the world to us to know that someone is listening. Your kindness gives us strength and helps us believe in a better tomorrow.

With all our gratitude, Mosab Elderawi and Family ❤️"

@saraanna1 - post | fundraiser

@saraanna1 message: "

Hello

I am Hiba Khader, a mother of three from Gaza🇵🇸.

The war has destroyed everything—my home, my job, and my dreams.

Each night, I cry as my children go to bed hungry, their laughter replaced by fear and pain.

I’m begging for your help to give my children a safe home and a chance at life."

hello, these people reached to me for help in my inbox. since I can't donate, I can only help sharing their stories and fundraiser! so, if you are able to donate, please do it! and if not, I would be glad if you reblog and share this post! thank you!

@yusra-maryam58 - post | fundraiser

@abuadam86 - post | fundraiser

@teto110 - post | fundraiser

@ibrahem-4 - post | fundraiser

@nedaaabd - post | fundraiser

@hashem1979 - post | fundraiser

@yasmin-yonis - post | fundraiser

@ammarfamily - post | fundraiser

@yousef-falestinef - post | fundraiser

@mohammed-hassouna1 - post | fundraiser

@samy-family55 - post | fundraiser

@wafaaresh1 - post | fundraiser

these are the ones it was on my inbox today! this post probably will be updated if i receive more!

[chilling-seavey]

I thought of this and had to share it for TWIG. George is away at a race and you are home with the kids. The night before the race, George calls you for phone sex but you know you have to be quiet otherwise the kids will wake up

↳ A/N Thank you for this, anon! You only sent this last night but it really inspired me and I was feeling kind of down and really needed a simple, easy, lighthearted thing to write to get my mind off the craziness of life. This was perfect <3

↳ Pairings: George Russell x Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 2.1k

↳ Warnings: 18+, smut, phone sex, male masturbation, dirty talk, unedited

“This triple header is brutal.”

George’s voice was tired through the phone. You could tell he was trying to hide it but you knew him well enough by then; the languidness of his syllables, drawing them out just a little more, the sparkle dulled in his tone. 

Sitting on your side of your shared bed with an ocean between you, you held your phone to your ear with a melancholy smile. Your husband’s voice always warmed your heart but when he was more downtrodden, it was hard to fully feel it. 

“I know.” you replied gently, your book laying open and forgotten on your lap, “They really work you and the team to the bone with those.”

“Not just that,” George sighed, “I miss you…the kids. I hate not being able to fly home between races.”

You rested your head back against the headboard with a fond smile at his sweet confession, “Aw, my love. We miss you too.”

“I really miss you.” he pressed. 

Your fingers absentmindedly traced the edge of your open novel spread across your thighs as his familiar voice caused your heart to flutter. Your gaze was focused on the wall across from your bed where the dresser sat, a few of his things dotted along the surface, some spaces empty with things he had brought with him for three weeks away. With a softly playful tone, you asked, “How much?”

There was a pause through the line and then George chuckled warmly, replying with a cheeky, “What are you wearing?”

“Oh—” you scrunched your eyes closed with a gentle laugh, “You’re terrible.”

“What?” George laughed in return through the phone, “I’m serious.”

You looked down at yourself in your t-shirt and faded pyjama shorts, “Nothing sexy, I’ll tell you that.”

“You’re always sexy.” George countered with ease like he had been telling you that all his life. He pressed a little harder, “Come on. Fess up.”

“I’m wearing one of your old Mercedes team shirts from 2024.” you told him, picking at the logo of one of the now-bankrupt sponsors that had started to flake off after years and years of wash. A piece of the print fluttered down onto your open book on your lap. You added, “And some ancient pyjama shorts.”

“Ooh, the blue and grey striped shorts?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

George hummed in approval, “Those are nice. Make your bum look extra good.”

“What is with you?” you laughed breathily, shaking your head a little at the obvious intention behind his responses.

“What?” he protested, his voice raising a half-octave in defence, “I miss my wife and I want to flirt with her.”

You closed your book with your free hand and set it aside on your nightstand to give him your full attention. Your knees pulled up a little, tenting the duvet you were sitting under, and you teased him knowingly, “Your hand isn’t doing it for you anymore?”

George inhaled sharply, “Now who’s being forward?”

“Am I wrong?”

There was a pause and then a defeated sigh, followed by a one-word answer in which you could hear his playful smirk, “No.”

“Besides, tomorrow’s Sunday and you always liked to have a pre-race orgasm.” you stated knowingly, “Knocks you out like a light. Guaranteed good night’s sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah, you know me better than anyone.” George retorted in a feigned mocking tone.

There was a pause again. You could faintly hear the sound of his breathing. You nibbled at your bottom lip as if to physically try and switch your mindset from your calm relaxing night-in to having phone sex with your husband. Through the phone, you could hear the rustling of sheets as he shifted. 

“I can’t go crazy with it,” you warned softly, “the kids are asleep and you know how thin these walls are.”

“That’s okay.” George’s voice was just as quiet, as if he had any reason to whisper on his side of the world, “I’ll take anything. Even just hearing your voice.”

“Okay then…want me to read you the grocery list?”

He let out a strained sigh, “Sweetheart.”

“Okay, okay.” you chuckled. 

You could picture his pleading pout in your mind, the scrunch of his eyes, the tilt of his head. Deep inside you, your stomach stirred. You wondered if he was naked in the hotel room bed at that moment. 

The pause wasn’t doing any favours for your poor husband who was impatiently waiting through the line. George pleaded with you in that sweet voice that somehow always wore you down, “Please, my love, I’m already so hard.”

Your eyebrows raised, “Already?” 

George’s shy chuckle melted into a soft groan of a confession, “I’ve been trying to have a bit of a wank for almost an hour now but my brain keeps thinking of strategies and tyre management and I keep going soft.”

You swallowed back a joke about soft versus hard tyre compounds for the sake of not making him suffer any longer. Instead, you got yourself comfortable in your strikingly empty shared bed and adjusted your grip on your phone against your ear. You comforted him lovingly, “My poor love. Where are you? In bed?”

“Yeah,” George’s breath was shallow. Through the phone you could faintly hear the pop of the lid of a plastic bottle opening. It didn’t take much sleuthing to figure it was lube. 

“And you’re hard…again.” you continued, “And missing me.”

“Yeah,” his voice was a little softer, the word drawn out a little longer than previous. 

“Missing what part of me?” you asked. 

George hummed lowly, “All of you, love, you know that.”

“My mouth?” you taunted, letting a moment for your two words to settle before adding, “My pussy?”

The tight inhale of breath through the line was answer enough. 

“Yeah? That’s what you want, don’t you?” you whispered to him, “Want to be buried nice and deep inside me…right where you belong. Isn’t that right?”

“Yeah…” George nearly purred. 

The sound of his voice alone was enough to make your insides burn and your thighs clenched together a little tighter. You could faintly hear the slick sound of his hand stroking his lubed up cock through the phone, keeping to a slow languid pace as you eased him into the wonderful pictures your words could paint. His every soft breath had you shivering, feeling his need through the phone and, almost, the heat of his familiar breath against your skin.

“Just want me squeezing around you so tight?” you continued. 

“Yeah…so warm.” George slurred out.

“So tight and warm and all yours. All yours to stretch out and fill up.”

“Baby.” George moaned, elongating the vowels. 

You knew not to stop, you knew just how much he loved your endless stream of consciousness, how your words didn’t hold back when you got in that right mindset. He loved your voice and every thought that spilled from it. 

“What I wouldn’t give to be in that hotel room with you right now…in that bed with you…just bouncing on your gorgeous dick.”

George’s breath caught a little. You could hear his hand speed up.

He let out a shaky, “Mm, please keep going.”

“And you can hold my hips and move me how you want…”

“Mhm…”

“And you could just feel how wet I am for you…leaking all over you…”

“Fuck—” George choked out, almost a sob, as if he were vividly picturing everything you were saying. In a barely there breath, he added, “Please—”

You shifted in bed a little as the sounds of him getting himself off through the phone went right between your legs. With your children sleeping just down the hall, you couldn’t stomach the idea of sharing in his pleasure just in case they heard you; it was always easier to be convinced when George was there in person. When it was just you, all alone in your bedroom, your nervousness out-powered your desire. That was okay; you were perfectly content just helping him out anyway. 

“You sound so good, baby.” you breathed, your ears perked to his every small moan or groan or gasp. “Keep moaning for me…you know I like it when you’re vocal.”

George swallowed thickly, his words strained and drunken, “Yeah…feels so good…”

“Would feel better with my hands all over you, wouldn’t it? Kissing your neck…pulling your hair…”

The shaky moan he replied with was erotic, sending your heart racing and your thighs clenching. 

“Yeah, I know, you love that.” your voice was low and languid, dragging on your words in a way that had him soaking in everything you were saying, “Letting me pull on the ends of your hair while I fuck myself on your lap…on your perfect fucking dick.”

George’s breathing was getting heavier through the phone, almost as if he was so in his head that he forgot you weren’t even there with him. The steady slick rhythm of his hand on himself was hypnotizing to you, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth, knowing exactly what he must have looked like alone in that empty hotel room half-way across the world. It was a sight you had seen more times than you could count but one that always had that unmistakable warmth pooling in the depths of your belly. 

George writhed, his voice strained and urgent, “Don’t stop. Please, keep talking. Please.”

“I can tell you're close…listen to those pretty sounds you’re making.” you purred, rambling anything that came to mind, “I’d be all over you if I was there…I’m sure you’d have already made me come twice over by now…making me come all over your cock just squeezing around it and soaking it.”

George’s breath caught. You heard his hand speed up a little more. 

“Yeah? That’s what you want?” you pressed on, “Wanna feel how hard you can make me come? Knowing you’re the only one who can do that to me? That I’m all yours? Absolutely wrecking me and still making me want more and more and more of you?”

“Yeah.” George moaned, “Fuck, I’m so close, baby, please—”

You always knew exactly what he wanted to hear, speaking to him with ease of your trust and familiarity, “You wanna come inside me? Wanna put a baby in me?”

George choked out your name in the handsomest groan. 

“Yeah? I know you’re so close; bet you’re just throbbing. You gonna give me what I want? Gonna give me all your cum as deep as you can?”

“Uh huh—”

“Uh huh? Yeah, you are. That’s it.” you encouraged, your free hand dropping beneath the bedsheets around your middle to rub over your clothed pussy. You could feel your wetness already seeping through your panties and your shorts, your cunt only throbbing more beneath your fingers at the sounds of his strained breaths and soft moans as he drew closer and closer. “Come on, gorgeous. Gimme it. Come for me.”

After years together, you didn’t have to be in the room with him to know exactly when he came. Your ears easily picked up on the hitch of his breath that was laced in with the prettiest whimper (something that he was always a little self-conscious about, but something you loved most) before letting it out a second later with a wavering moan and another and another, falling into those long-awaited waves of pleasure. 

“There you go,” you cooed softly, “That’s so good. Give me every last drop.”

“Yeah…” George panted, “Yeah, fuck, that’s…it.”

“Good?” you chuckled through the phone as his build up eased into silence of nothing but his breaths.

“Yeah. Perfect. You’re perfect.” he whispered dreamily, “Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” you reminded him sweetly, before following it up with a casual, “But you owe me when you get home.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.” George chuckled, his tone clearly worn out, “I would have done so anyway, even without you asking.”

There was a peaceful pause between you, both of you lost in your thoughts. 

“It’s late here.” you finally stated, pulling your phone away to glance at the time before resting it back against your ear, “I should sleep. You know the little guy is going to have me up at the crack of dawn.”

George’s voice was soft and laced with a knowing smile, “Of course. I’ll let you sleep. I have to…clean up anyway.”

You laughed breathily and lolled your head back against the headboard with a dreamy smile at how flushed and gorgeous and messy he must look after all that. But, you knew the conversation needed to be wrapped up so you kept your thoughts to yourself and, instead, reminded him, “We’ll definitely be watching the race tomorrow…even if it means a bit late to bed for the tot. Give us a call after, okay?” 

“Always do.” George replied simply, “I love you.”

“I love you.” you echoed with ease.

Another pause as if you both just wanted to hear the sounds of the other breathing for a moment longer. 

Finally, George whispered a tender, “Good night, darling.”

“Night, my love.”

And the call disconnected.

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[lowkeyerror]

Basically My Boyfriend

Jennifer Check x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Notes: Reuqested, friends to lovers, smut, fingering, cunnulingus, virgin!reader

Summary: It’s a Friday night and Y/n and Needy are spending it bored in Jennifer’s room. When Needy mentions she passed on date night for it, Jennifer and Y/n push her to go. This leaves Jennifer and Y/n alone for the night, and something that started as a joke between the two quickly transforms into something more.

An: First request in forever hope its alright 🫣

Etc. Masterlist | More Jennifer Check

For being a girl as popular as she was, it was assumed that Jennifer Check would have more friends than she would know what to do with. Even despite her bitchy attitude, the attention she garnered from her looks alone was good enough reason to want to be around her. The thing is that Jennifer wasn’t stupid she knew that people would use her to gain social standing. It’s part of the reason that Jennifer didn’t really “do” friends.

The people that were close to her had been close to her for as long as anyone could remember. Needy and Y/n were the only real friends that Jennifer had. She liked it that way.

Jennifer didn’t need to explain herself to the pair, she didn’t need to dumb herself down, and she didn’t have to pretend to be nice. She could just be herself, which was seeming like more of a luxury these days.

“Jen, hello? Earth to Jennifer Check, where’d you go? I think we lost her Annie,” Y/n was waving her hand in front of the brunette’s face, while talking to the blonde at her side.

The three of them were piled into Jennifer’s room, on a Friday night.

Jennifer’s back hit the bed, “I’m so bored, we should’ve went to the bar tonight, I heard Low Shoulder was going to be there.”

“Not a chance. Annie and I would’ve been miserable while we watched you go play groupie to those losers,” Y/n follows suit lying flat on the bed.

“Needy knows how to party, besides she could’ve brought her boy toy.”

Needy rolls her eyes, but lays on the bed too, “You know I don’t like it when you call him that.”

“Precisely why I do it Anita,” Jennifer comments.

Needy lets out a sigh, “You know I canceled a date for this and he was really cool about it.”

Jen and Y/n sit up at the same time and say, “You what?”

“It’s no big deal.”

“It’s only 8, you have time. Tell him to come pick you up,” Y/n says looking at the blonde.

“But I already told my mom I was sleeping over,” Needy whines.

Jennifer gives the girl some words of encouragement, “You are going to sleep over… just at Chip’s. Now call your boy toy, first tell him to thank us, and then tell him that you should see a movie tonight.”

Just as the pair instructed Needy calls her boyfriend and he says that he's on his way.

“Are you guys sure you’re ok with me bailing?”

Y/n nods, “Go get laid, Annie. One of us deserves to tonight.”

She shoves your shoulder, “ Shut up you’re starting to sound too much like Jen.”

The dark-haired girl laughed, “Well you didn’t say she was wrong.”

Whatever snarky remark Needy was going to say dies as her phone rings. Chip is outside waiting for her.

“Remember, if he doesn’t give head, he’s better off dead,” Jennifer says as she pushes Needy out of the house.

“Meet us for breakfast tomorrow, the usual spot?” Y/n suggests and Needy nods.

“I’ll see you guys later.”

Jennifer and Y/n wave to her as Chip drives off in the direction of the movie theater.

“And then there were two,” Y/n says.

“You’re such a predictable nerd, I knew you would say that,” now it’s Jennifer rolling her eyes at you.

“Hey, need I remind you that you picked this predictable nerd to be one of your two friends. The other which is almost the same predictable nerd,” Y/n says as they walk back up the stairs.

Jen scoffs, “You’re nothing like Needy. For starters she’s with her boyfriend tonight, while you’re here with me.”

Y/n is quick to counter, “You’re basically my boyfriend anyway.”

“Oh am I?”

Y/n nods as they re-enter Jennifer’s room, “Yup.”

“And what could have possibly led you to this conclusion?”

Y/n jumps into Jen’s bed, “Well it’s Friday night and you have me in your bed.”

“You haven't heard of a hookup?”

Y/n closes her eyes briefly, “You like me too much for it just to be a hookup.”

Jen doesn't respond, instead she lets her eyes roam Y/n's figure. She’d be lying if she said the thought hadn’t crossed her mind once or twice. Y/n was in a way, exactly her type. Maybe a little more dorky than She'd usually go for, but Jen thought Y/n’s loser tendencies were endearing.

So, as she found herself alone with girl on a Friday night, no Needy, and no parents; she thought she'd try something.

Jennifer climbs onto the bed and straddles Y/n’s waist. The weight on her, made the girl open her eyes. She was slightly startled as she looked up at Jennifer.

“Maybe you’re right, definitely wouldn't call you a random hookup,” Jennifer’s face took on a look that Y/n had only seen her give other people.

Particularly boys that Jennifer would spend random nights with.

“What’re you doing ?”

Jennifer flips her head to the side, “We’ve known each other a long time, right Y/n?”

“Right,” the girl beneath her speaks breathlessly

“Have I ever told you how hot I think you are?”

Her hands reach for Y/n’s, guiding then to sit first on her thighs before sliding them up to her hips.

“Jen,” Y/n audibly gulps.

The dark-haired girl, giggles before rolling her hips down on Y/n. The dorky girl’s hands tighten their grip on Jennifer’s waist.

“Fuck Y/n, don't you want me?”

“Jennifer,” Y/n says more firmly this time.

Jennifer rolls her hips again, “You’re really going to make spell it out for you, aren’t you? You know, I like you right dingus, I've wanted you for a while now. You’re a dork, but I want you to be my dork.”

“This can't be real?” Y/n’s confusion peaks through.

“Let me show you how real it is, Y/n,” Jennifer’s look becomes less predatory and more desperate.

Y/n’s face began to heat up, “Jen I haven’t-”

“I can teach you,” she speaks gently, her hand caressing Y/n’s face.

“Promise me this isn’t just a hookup or some fucked up game you’re playing with me,” Y/n’s insecurities poke at her.

Jennifer leans down, so she is mere inches away from the other girl. Her hair falls, tickling Y/n’s face. Her eyes are softer than Y/n had ever seen as their breath mingles together.

“I like you, genuinely; no bullshit. We don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want-”

Y/n kisses her in the middle of speaking. It’s delicate and airy. A type of kiss that Jennifer isn’t used too. It takes the wind out of her.

“Be gentle with me Jen,” Y/n whispers against her lips.

She nods, “I’m going to worship you.”

Y/n feels her face heat even more. Jennifer connects their lips again. She holds back on the ferocity, but let’s the passion shining through the kiss. The sound of their lips colliding with each other and their shallow breaths made the room feel ten times hotter.

Y/n’s hand subconsciously left Jennifer’s waist to slink up and under her shirt. The skin there was cooler than she expected. Her touch was light but became even lighter as her hands skimmed over Jennifer’s bra.

Jennifer sits up breaking the kiss causing the girl beneath her to whine. Jen laughs at the sound before pulling her shirt over her head. Y/n’s eyes dilate at the sight of her abdomen. A small smirk tugs at Jennifer’s lips upon seeing Y/n’s reaction.

Her bra comes off next. Y/n’s eyes scale up Jennifer’s figure , lingering at her now exposed chest. As if she’s testing the waters the Y/n sits up. She keeps eye contact with Jennifer as she takes one of the more experienced girl’s nipples in her mouth.

She sucks lightly, closing her eyes as she runs her tongue across the stiff peak. Jen moans at the sensation nearly cradling the girl’s head further into her chest.

“Can I see you baby?” Jennifer says through her teeth, her free hand gripping the waistband of Y/n’s pants.

Y/n doesn’t answer her immediately, needing to give the other nipple the same attention as the first. She then trails hot open mouth kisses from Jennifer’s breast up to her neck stopping to whisper in the girl’s ear.

“Take it off.”

Jennifer doesn’t need to be told twice as she carefully removes Y/n’s shirt and pants as well. She pushes the girl to lay flat against the bed again. This time instead of straddling her waist, Jen stays near the foot of the bed, spreading Y/n’s legs open.

“You’re so wet for me already,” Jennifer sees the dampness through the other girl’s underwear.

She kisses up Y/n’s thighs, tentatively. She keeps eye contact as she gets closer and close to the Y/n’s cunt. Jennifer places some teasing kisses on Y/n’s clothed pussy, causing the girl to squirm.

“Can I-"

“Please,” Y/n begs before Jennifer even finished the sentence.

Her hip lift, encouraging Jennifer to take them off. Jennifer obliges sliding the soaked panties down Y/n’s legs.

“Fuck.”

The sight alone was enough to cause Jennifer to lose her composure. She couldn't take it anymore. She didn't hesitate to dive her face into Y/n’s pussy.

“Holy shit,” Y/n almost sits up as Jennifer’s tongue swirls around her clit.

Jennifer’s tongues moves fluidly through Y/n’s folds. Playfully going back and forth between teasing the entrance and sucking on the clit.

Jennifer vibrates with pleasure as your taste coats her mouth making her dizzy.

“You taste so good baby, can I put a finger in? I promise you’ll like it.”

Sweat covers Y/n’s forehead as she nods, “Fuck me.”

Jennifer slinks up Y/n’s body to connect their lips. Y/n almost cums as she tastes herself on Jennifer’s lips. This kiss is sloppier than the rest they shared but neither girl cared. The feeling was intoxicating.

While they kiss Jennifer slips her middle finger inside of Y/n. The girl mewls into Jennifer’s mouth. The dark-haired girl groans at how tight Y/n is around her finger. She could already feel the walls pulsating trying to pull her finger deeper inside.

“You’re so tight Y/n, have you even fingered yourself? Feels like I’m the first thing in here, fuck. I can’t wait to stretch you out, fill you up with a fat plastic cock. Have you moaning my name.”

“I haven’t Jen, I haven’t had anything but your finger inside of me. Fuck, add another, stretch me. I want to be good for you, Jennifer,” Y/n whines trying to gain for friction.

Jennifer listens to the girl and slowly pushes in another finger, she can feel Y/n twitching around her.

“Be a good girl and cum on my fingers,” Jennifer ‘s thumb begins to rub circles on Y/n’s clit.

Y/n falls over the edge, nails digging into Jennifer’s back as the only thing she could say was Jennifer’s name, over and over again.

Jennifer is carefully to bring Y/n down from her climax, not wishing to overstimulate her now. When she feels enough time has last, she removes her fingers from inside the girl.

She holds Y/n’s tired stare as she sucks the juices off of her fingers.

“Kiss me,” Y/n reaches for Jennifer, pulling her bavk down into a kiss.

“Addicting, isn’t it?” Jennifer pecks your lips again.

“Let me return the favor,” Y/n mumbles.

Jennifer can tell the girl is exhausted from her own orgasm. Though she would love nothing more than to have Y/n please her, she feels like it would be taken advantage of the girl.

Jennifer shakes her head, “Maybe later, let’s get you cleaned up first.”

Y/n goes to protest, but Jennifer’s soft gaze on her, stopped any rebuttal.

After a quick shower both girls were back in the bed this time clean. They laid facing each other, their hands interlocked. It was Y/n who ended up pulling Jennifer into her grasp.

“I didn’t know you could be so… sweet,” you tell her truthfully.

Jennifer rolls her eyes, trying to distract Y/n from the blush that was building on her face, “You’re such a dork.”

“I think we already established that already. What we haven’t established is when you’re taking me out?”

Jennifer scoffs, “Why do I have to take you out? You could ask me out you know.”

Y/n shakes her head, “Nope, you’re the boyfriend. So you’ve got to ask me out.”

Jennifer huffs in faux-annoyance, “Fine, I’ll ask you out, but you’re explaining it to Needy.”

Y/n pecks her lips again, “Deal.”

[mtcloudsworld]

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓, 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 | boyfriend!Jason Todd, black!fem, little bit of ass grabbing, nothing too serious, edited

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 | sudden thought I wanted to share with you all. If any errors please ignore, thank you. Enjoy lovebugs!! :) like, comment, reblog.

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁

Usually, his mornings were spent dreading waking up and having to climb out of bed after a long night of patroling. If he could have it his way all he would want to do is sleep, lounge around and do absolutely nothing.

But when he started dating you, his life turned upside down.

Mornings were never spent alone, mornings with you were much more brighter, much more sweeter. Even in Gotham's gloomy weather he still found some sort of happiness in you.

With the sounds of chirping from outside, it's beautiful yet annoying tune broke through his slumber like shattered glass. He would lay there going in and out of sleep, kinda aware of his surroundings as he takes in a deep breath to exhale slowly.

When he opened his eyes, adjusting to the sunlight seeping through his dark curtains, his orbs set on the presence of you.

The beauty of your essence. Your glorious soft cocoa skin and gentle features. Your face was relaxed and content. Your lashes kissed along your freckled high cheekbones as you slept. Your braids were securely wrapped in a scarf as you started to stir in your sleep.

And although he was on his side of the bed, you had inched closer for his warmth, loving that even through the cold he always exuded as huge radiator for you.

Laying in the middle with your back against the mattress, your head turned towards him with your hands settled at your lower abdomen.

Your lips parted as soft snores slipped into the quiet morning, clearly etched into a deep slumber. His lips curled into a smirk, adjusting himself beside you so he could wrap his arm around you, his thumb brushing up against your back. He studies the way your face starts to move, brow twitching a little and then comes an exhale.

You looked so unbothered. As if you were dreaming of rainbows and sunshine, as if nothing could harm you at this very moment because you were sleeping so peacefully.

Being so close in the confines of his protective stronghold helped you tremendously get better sleep and he, personally, could agree. Having you by his side made him feel okay, feel better knowing that he didn't have to sit around worrying if you were okay or not. Even when you were somewhere else, still he would worry but also hate the idea of not being by your side.

Nonetheless, he could lay here for hours upon hours upon hours and never get tired of observing you.

It was nearly 11:30 now, this was the most you had ever slept in the longest time. And when you felt it was time to wake up, you didn't dare to open your eyes just yet. Instead you recognized the feeling of his hand caressing your side. Your own traveling up to grip at his forearm, recognizing the deep scars along his skin, you could feel a muscle move as he brings you closer.

You would sigh, pry your eyes open to see deep blue irises already peering over you. You'd crack a smile looking away from him, nearly laughing out of nervousness but groan, "you weirdo, watching me sleep?" You ask, voice still groggy with sleep as you spoke lowly.

He chuckles, "maybe."

"Is that a problem?" he watches as you rub the sleep from your eyes to then stretch a little and bring yourself onto your side near his chest.

It takes you a few seconds to respond, registering your surroundings.

"No, I guess not, as long as I look pretty to you. I wake up ugly sometimes, ya know? Bad breath, slobber and all?" You stated half jokingly motioning towards your face before tucking your hand into your chest.

He amusingly scoffs at that.

"Hm, I beg to differ." He says, landing a lingering kiss to your forehead, he starts to rub circles along your back. "Regardless of your state, baby, you always look pretty."

"Hm, you're just saying that to be nice."

"No, I'm saying that because I love you and I love looking at you with every chance I get." He states in a matter-of-factly tone.

"You're biased then." You challenged with a raised brow, your gaze locking back with his.

"I'm only biased because I'm your boyfriend." You suddenly felt small underneath his gaze, feeling his hand venture lower near the roundness of your ass. Beginning to palm your cheek through the oversized tee. His head was rested into the palm of his hand as his face was only merely inches apart from yours, mumbling, "I have every right to be biased, mamas." His glare was loving and serious, clearly not shying away from this small intimacy between you two.

"Hm," you smirked, nudging your nose against his, "point taken."

𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 ©𝐦𝐭𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃

[gracemisconduct]

This has been a strange Christmas. The first without my dad. I've always struggled with being explicit about emotion; this is the second major grief in my life, and the first nearly killed me. This time, I'm trying to be open, less self destructive, but man, it's hard work. My mother, still here, is...someone who loves me better from afar. She also struggles to accept that this has happened to more than her. And yet, Christmas, funerals, and the time of year forces proximity, and forces everything that comes with it.

He died in increments, then all at once. I first saw him die a little ten years ago, getting a pacemaker. Then a little more two years later, when he was so breathless he couldn't walk across the small medieval town I lived in. I saw him die a little bit when he was diagnosed with cancer, and when he broke down crying at my wedding. I saw him die most and fastest this year, when he went from visiting China to not having the strength to sit up in bed by himself. And then, all at once, he died.

I never knew there was so much admin involved in death. People would ask how I was; I had no idea. I was too busy sourcing a death certificate, arranging a funeral, writing a eulogy, telling friends and family he'd died, sorting my mum's finances. Every now and again I'd burst our crying. Then I'd stop.

Through it all, two things kept me just about sane; walking, walking everywhere, and fantasy. Good fantasy, bad fantasy. Smut and angst and fandoms and AO3 and all the wonderful ridiculousness of it that teen Grace loved and 20s Grace tried to pretend she didn't. Now I'm in my 30s, no shits are given. It was a balm, a source of humour, a relief. A place of happy endings of all kinds. A lot of BG3. It even made me think about doing a little writing of my own, though we're far from there yet. Thanks, hellsite, for the wonderful wildness of this place. Thanks, makers, for putting your work out there into the world for me to get lost in and cling to like a life raft.

____________

So, who was my dad? He was the most accomplished man I ever knew; nearly 40 years curating Japanese art and metalwork at internationally renowned museums, published books, honorary positions, a photographer, a ceramicist, a singer and more. His eulogy took days to write just to remember everything he did, and we still missed things.

His curiosity for culture, his love of learning, his collecting of obscure facts and bizarre stories, was infectious. It was the golden thread of my brother and I’s upbringing, with weekends and holidays punctuated by museums, bookshops, National Trust properties, standing stones and sci-fi movies, and everything in between. It was this same passion and curiosity that meant his list of friends and admirers was longer than your arm. He was a G.I. and so am I. Yes, I stole his badge.

When we were looking for readings for his cremation, we came across this poem. It's a later addition by Tolkien, written by Bilbo as he travels to the Grey Havens, thinking about his life and what comes next. I think that dad - LOTR narrator, deliver of funny hobbit voices, old hippy - would appreciate it. I hope you do too.

Day is ended, dim my eyes,

but journey long before me lies.

Farewell, friends! I hear the call.

The ship's beside the stony wall.

Foam is white and waves are grey;

Beyond the sunset leads my way.

Foam is salt, the wind is free;

I hear the rising of the Sea.

Farewell, friends! The sails are set,

the wind is east, the moorings fret.

Shadows long before me lie,

beneath the ever-bending sky,

but islands lie behind the Sun

that I shall raise ere all is done;

lands there are to west of West,

where night is quiet and sleep is rest.

Guided by the Lonely Star,

beyond the utmost harbour-bar

I'll find the havens fair and free,

and beaches of the Starlit Sea.

Ship, my ship! I seek the West,

and fields and mountains ever blest.

Farewell to Middle-Earth at last.

I see the Star above your mast!

- J.R.R. Tolkien

notes on grief - chimamanda ngozi adichie

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 48

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 1,770ish

Summary: You and Laura rebuild your lives. Spans from 2029 to 2035.

Warning(s):  nightmares, injuries

Notes: I hope this chapter is okay! I know that it's not terribly long and skips a lot. Please remember to review the timeline posted here.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

You woke up with a jolt. The image of Logan laying there bloody against the tree still fresh in your mind all these months later.

You made it across the border with Laura. You found Eden, the official safe haven, and you hated every moment of it. The leaders there were happy to have an X-Men on their side, but you no longer felt like an X-Men. When you expressed your desire to leave, they weren’t too happy but agreed to help. They gave you enough money for a cheap car and first and lasts months rent for a small one bedroom apartment. They urged you not to take Laura, but there was no way the two of you were going to be separated.

You sighed, turning your head to find Laura staring back at you. You moved onto your side to face her.

“You had another nightmare,” she whispered.

“Did I burn you?” You asked. You had woken up a few times to Laura spraying you down with a fire extinguisher, making you thankful for keeping extras on hand.

“No. No flames this time.”

“But I woke you?”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not, sweetie. You need to be getting rest too.”

“Can’t… nightmares.”

You reached over and began to run your hand up and down her arm. “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?”

~~~

You were able to get a teaching job after taking a few classes to renew your license, with help from the people at Eden. Laura was able to go to school with you. Laura was a good and smart kid, but she had her father’s temper and patience. That meant you spent a lot of time in the principal’s office with Laura the first few months of school. You were just grateful that Laura had yet to show her claws off to anyone yet.

You sighed as you drove home. Laura was in the seat beside you, staring out the window with her purple sunglasses covering her eyes.

“Laura, you know that I completely stand by you when it comes to standing up for others,” you began, “but you cannot beat each bully up because of it.”

“They deserved it,” she muttered, keeping her gaze out the window.

“That doesn’t matter, Laura. We need to be better than the bullies.”

“Dad would have been proud.”

You slammed on your breaks as your breath caught. “What?”

“I said that Dad would have been proud.”

You swallowed, mind reeling at the mention of Logan. The car behind you honked, pulling your from your thoughts and causing you to continue to drive forward.

“Your father…” you breathed out. “Your father might have been proud of you, that’s true, but he also would tell you never to do it again. That it’s not actually a victory to lower yourself to the bullies standards. He would not want that for you.”

Laura looked over at you and reached over, touching your arm. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, sweetie. I’m not mad.”

“No,” she shook her head, “sorry for making you sad.”

It was like a punch to the gut. This little girl was way too observant for her own good.

“I’m fine, Laura,” you told her, pressing out a smile. “I’m not sad.”

Laura looked at you for a moment before going back to staring out the window. You knew she didn’t believe you one bit.

~~~

Nights were the hardest. Though you shared a bed with Laura, you missed the way Logan would hold you close at night. You always felt safe and wanted. You would try to cry it all out in the shower, hoping that Laura couldn’t hear you, but she could. Silent tears would still slip down your cheeks as you tried to sleep. 

Laura would often notice, her senses like her father’s. She would reach over and take your hand, hoping that would be enough to calm you. Sometimes it was, sometimes it made it worse. You were the much older adult. You needed to be the strong one for this little girl who was still struggling with her own trauma. Yet, many days you couldn’t put your own problems aside. Laura didn’t push or press though. 

Both of you were the only constants in each other’s lives now. You didn’t know it, but through your own tears, you were helping Laura. She grew up in a place where emotion was not okay. By you showing your ranges of emotions, you were showing her that it was okay to show emotion.

One night, you woke up to a sharp pain in your arm. You looked over to see Lauras claws in your arm. She was crying out and thrashing around, all of her claws out for show. Careful not to move too much with her claws in you, turned over to face her and reached your other arm over.

“Laura, sweetie,” you called calmly. “Wake up. It’s just a nightmare. Wake up.”

Laura gasped as she shot up. Her eyes scanned the bedroom for any short of danger. She froze when she saw her claws in her arm.

“No,” she whimpered, shaking her head. “No, no, no, no!”

“It’s okay, Laura! I’m fine. I’ll heal.”

“No!” She continued to shake her head.

You winced as she wanked her claws out and scurried away until she fell off the bed and hid herself in the corner. You didn’t even bother to look at your wound as you crawled over the bed and sat yourself down on the floor next to it. 

“It’s okay, Laura,” you repeated. “We’re okay.”

The two of you sat in silence, the only notable sound being her heaving breathing. Suddenly, you got an idea. You reached out your good arm and turned your hand so that your palm was up. A flame formed in your palm, lighting up the area a little and catching Laura’s eyes. 

“See? I’m okay,” you whispered, ignoring the fact that your palm was actually aching as you formed the palm. 

Laura’s eyes darted down to your injured, bloody arm, feeling little relief though it was healing. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, still staring at it.

“No, need,” you shook your head. “It was a nightmare… You know, Logan got nightmares often.”

“I know.”

“Do you know that be stabbed me a few times as well?”

“He did?”

“Yes. He hated himself for every injury he ever caused me, but I rarely ever let him run away from me. I knew that it would only make it worse. So I helped him.”

“How?”

“I would hold him. Let me know I was there still. Sometimes I would use my heat to relax him. His muscles were always so tense after a nightmare.” You watched as Laura rolled her shoulders, like she was testing if it was the same for her. “I can help you, too.” 

You extinguished the flame and held out both of your arms. Laura was hesitant at first but then slowly moved over. As soon as you could, you pulled her into your lap and held her against you. You kept your body heat at a comforting temperature as kept her close.

“I’ve got you,” you whispered. “I’ve got you.”

It didn’t take long for Laura to fall back asleep in the safety of your hold.

~~~

You stood next to the car as you waited for Laura to finish chatting with her friend. You listened in as a small smile formed on your lips. It had been over a year since the two of you basically reset your lives and this was the first time Laura seemed interested in having a friend.

“Can you come over to my house to hang out?” Her friend asked. “My mom can take us and then bring you home.”

“Uh, let me ask my mom,” Laura said. 

Laura turned around and hurried over to you. You were staring at her in shock. You had never heard her call you that before, not that you were mad.

“Hey, um, mom,” she said once she was in front of you. Her voice was nervous. “Can I go over to Alex’s house? Alex’s mom can bring me home.”

“Uh, yeah,” you nodded, still processing your new name. “Of course. Just keep your phone on you and let me know if you need me to come get you.”

“Okay! Thanks! Love you!” Then she rushed back to her friend.

“Love you, too.”

~~~.

As the years past, Laura and you grew closer. You were not just a mother-daughter duo, you were best friends. Both of you had opened up about your lives over the years, making each other the only ones who knew intimate details about the other. She was now starting her senior year of high school, trying to figure out her life, and, for some reason, yours.

“Just one date.”

“I told you, Laura, I’m not interested.”

“Come on. He’s cute.”

“I’m not going out on a date with my boss.” You shook your head as you continued to make dinner. “That’s just weird any so many ways. Besides, he definitely doesn’t see me like that.”

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes. “He literally looks at you like he could take you right then and there.”

“Laura! He does not!”

“Oh, he does, and everyone knows it but you. Come on, mom, it’s been six years, it’s time—“

“I’ve told you this before, Laura, I’m not going to date anyone and that’s okay. Your father was it for me.”

“I know,” she sighed. “I just don’t like the idea of me going to college and you being here all alone.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know about that. You haven’t been alone like this before.” You finally turned to face her. “Laura, thank you so much for taking care of me all these years. But it’s okay that you could live your own life. I’ll be okay… We’ll be okay.”

~~~

The two of you were out shopping for new clothes for the school year when it happened. You and Laura were walking down the street. Laura’s backpack was thrown over her shoulder as she was always prepared for anything and kept one of her father’s comics on her at all times. Neither of you saw it coming. Before you knew it, someone tased you from behind and then Laura. 

The world around you disappeared and you suddenly were thrown into an unfamiliar place. You and Laura tumbled to the ground. You groaned as a pair of boots stepped into your vision. You looked up to see a bald woman standing over you.

“Welcome to the Void.”

next chapter >

[pinkshortbread]

Can you do members of the tulpar with a partner who struggles with mental health issues (like depression or something of the sort), if it makes it easier for you to only do one of the tulpar members tho that’s fine !! love your writing btw ^_^

Thank you so much for your feedback ! 😭💞

For the moment, I only write for Curly, Daisuke and Anya. I hope you all don't mind. Maybe later for Swansea, I'm uncomfortable with writing about Jimmy (even though I like how written he is, eh I don't even need to justify myself why I don't want to write for him, anyway-) 😔✌️

WARNING : MDNI ; May triggers some people ; Sensitive Subjects.

[How do the members of the Tulpar cope with their partner who struggles with mental health issues ?]

Due to personal experience, I have chosen anxio-depression. When you went on broad the Tulpar : you lied about your condition to protect yourself from losing your job. In fact, Pony Express used to be precise and kept an eye on mental health issues but now, it's not quite the case (unfortunately).

💫 Curly 💫

Curly noticed some details : you felt restless, you had trouble sleeping. That's why you went to the lounge pretty late at night to pass the time.

"Curly ? Why are you here ?" "I should return the question Love." "Trouble sleeping, but I'm okay." It ticked something inside Curly's chest, you weren't okay. Everytime he left the cockpit to go to sleep to his quarter, you were here : your eyes on the screen, in your own world, looking tired, drowned in your thoughts.

He sat next to you, placing his hand onto your thigh, rubbing sweet circles to soothe the stress feeling you were breathing out. "I'm sorry, but I know you're not..."

The next thing you did is throwing yourself into his arms. You cried, cried so much into his shoulders, confessing to him that you were struggling with your depression on broad the Tulpar, that you lied about your issues, you didn't even talk about it with Anya. You were lost, you didn't know what to do. That only built up your anxiety you already tried to control. It was unbearable for you to keep everything to yourself.

And Curly listened. He listened to everything you said : your had trouble to manage the little of energy you had, you didn't know how to feel positive, your sleeping schedule is completely broken...

He kept your crying form close and tight to him, almost afraid of losing his partner and companion. He is the only one who were able to listen and feel what you felt at the right moment, he did it perfectly.

"I lied to everyone about it, even you !" "No you didn't, you kept to yourself and you needed to let go. But I'm here and I'm not dissapointed by you. I love you"

Let's just say, not too short after that, you asked him if he could sleep with you in your quarter after your confession. He accepted.

🌺 Daisuke 🌺

Daisuke didn't notice at first, but : sometimes you where quite irritable to him, which questionned him but he couldn't put his finger on it, maybe you were nervous about the "not being on Earth situation", was he wrong ? But one day, you stormed into his room, sliding and opening his door wide.

"Daisuke..." You started crying as you fidgeted your fingers nervously. "I'm sorry, I've been awful to you..."

As he turned his head to see you crying, his door completely open. Your cries started to resonate inside the Tulpar. He rushed to you, closing his door behind you in the process and cupping your cheek. "No no no, baby what's wrong ?"

Between your cries and hiccups, you told him about your mental health, that you've been struggling even more with your stupid job and that you felt like it started to ruin your relationship, your medication started to run low due to a debut of an anxiolytic addiction. It was bad.

"Shit, baby, I didn't know about that..." Daisuke felt helpless about your issue but : "Is there anything I can do to make you feel better ? Food ? Video games ? Cuddles ? We can take the whole night if you want to talk about it, I can't leave you like that..."

"I don't want it to ruin our relationship-" Suddenly, Daisuke grabbed you by your hips, bringing you even closer to him. "Don't you dare to say that again Boo, I still love you."

💧 Anya 💧

Due to the fact that Anya is the nurse of the whole crew, you told her about your mental health way longer before your relationship started. But one day, you didn't show yourself to the psych eval. It was very unusual from you.

Anya decided to look for you around the Tulpar, questionning everybody. They didn't see you, so you must be in your quarter.

And there she saw you, sitting on your bed and staring at the floor. "Oh no Honey..." She faced you, sitting in front of you. "You weren't ready for your psych eval today ?" You nodded.

You needed some time to talk about it with her, when job and personnal issues start to bond together that's where the problems start you told yourself. Anya told you that it couldn't be an issue, but your thoughts were louder than her voice.

Anya brought her hands to your calves as she layed her head onto your lap. "It's going to be okay, I'm here. You don't have to talk about it, you are not alone." Her words sounded right, you shoulders relaxed. Your hands meets her hair, your fingers intertwined with her strands. You let out a big sigh.

"I love you..." Anya looked up at you, some tears rolled onto your cheeks. You didn't want to lose her. Her look softened. "Oh, I love you too, so so much... Don't forget that..."

For the first time, you heard her.

[vacz]

I present to you my idea of a alternative bad ending for Wirt...

THE HUNTER

Instead of Beast!Wirt is Woodsman!wirt

After accepting the deal with the Beast, Wirt became the new lantern barer in hopes to keep Greg alive. He took the job to cut down the ellewoods and make them oil to feed the lantern so Greg's soul would never turn off, exactly what the woodsman used to do with his daughter. But as different from the woodsman, Wirt does know where the ellewoods truly came from, so the Beast has decided to take advantage of it and included him a little bit more into his chase for new victims. Now having Wirt helping the Beast to guide lost souls to the wrong path, it has become so much easier for the Beast to trap new souls

Wirt's role was this for a time: Becoming the new woodsman and finding lost kids to give them wrong directions or ideas. Despise how much he refused in the beginning, soon the Beast made him understand that this was the price for his mistakes, unless he wanted to Greg pay the price instead...

Until one night, Wirt had to confront a travel soul. A boy like him, wanting to save his little brother from the cruel breaches of the tree growing on his helpless body, and finally leave the woods with him, like Wirt himself once did. However, the Beast pressured and demanded him to take action himself, but unlike the old woodsman, Wirt did cut the boy down.

And since that incident, Wirt now has a new task to commit every time a new soul enters into the unknown.

He could barely sleep at night before, now he can't sleep at all. Wirt has stopped taking care of himself, at least he washes his hair and clothes once in a time but time itself seems so uselessly long for him until the point that things don't seem to matter anymore, nothing matters for Wirt, not even himself and his feelings... except keeping the lantern lit

The Beast knows better than anyone that Wirt's mind has become so weak until the point that he can't even survive by himself. He had succeeded in destroying this boy whole identity, only leaving a white paper to work on, so now he tries mold Wirt according his own twisted needs. Ironically, thanks to the Beast's influence, Wirt remembers the reason why he has to keep going with this but also he slowly starts to see people in a similar way that the beast's twisted perception does; trees to feed the lantern, not ready to burn yet but they must be prepared.

It's not surprising how much he has given up to the Beast. But unlike him, Wirt doesn't like to "play" or manipulate their victims, because he doesn't want to know them at all. Wirt already knows how these people will end, and he doesn't want to feel worse than he feels now, so he mostly tries to make his interactions shorter or cut them down directly, the quicker the easier it is for him to adopt this 'human dissociation' mentally

Of course, when he chooses violence, people tend to run rather than do what he plead, so he has to chase after them. Running after someone is exhausting for Wirt because he isn't that athletic in that aspect, and it's frustrating when he can't reach them. There are times when they manage to escape and some others that they don't

Wirt hates running after them, because it makes the situation more torturous and he gets exhausted. But if they don't start running, he is the one who tells them to do so. He doesn't understand very well why he does this but he likes to think that is a way to give them a chance to escape so he doesn't have to be the one to end with them, after all Wirt wants to believe that he is not evil

And yet, at the same time Wirt finds some kind of satisfaction on it... He is scared of what he is becoming.

Of course, he has this little duality inside his brain. The Beast has done a good job to keep Wirt in his role but still that doesn't make Wirt's guilt disappear at all

At least, his guilt has been manifested into a voice, represented by the rock fact. Even if the rock fact was meant for Greg to make silly but un-true facts, Wirt's interpretation of his own rock facts are the cruelest truths he refuses to believe. The rock fact represents that honest and logical part of him that is still there, under the tone of the self hate Wirt has grown on himself.

Of course, when he is around people for a longer period than he feels he should, Wirt stops trying to act normal and let himself to act a little... dramatic, in hopes to scare them or "prepare" himself mentally to go and chase them down with the axe

For this, he likes to use the rock fact. He always keeps it in his hair and uses it to try to re-create a rock fact like the ones Greg used to make, but instead of charming or adorable he looks insane, and he already knows that. Of course, he tries to re-create them seriously when he is alone but still fails miserably

Wirt does this in a poor intent to feel in touch with Greg, even tho they usually talk a lot with each other

Jason Funderberker has been gone for a long time by now, so the Beast is the only company Wirt has left, but most of the time he is alone.

He doesn't devout that his brother is there anymore, after all, Now Wirt can hear Greg's voice coming out of the lantern so what would be a better proof than that?. Greg is the only person left who seems to not hate him or is scared of him, the little ray of sunshine in his poor cruel life. If you tell him otherwise, Wirt won't want to believe you, even if deep down somehow, someway no matter how delusional he may be... He knows is true

Of course, I wouldn't recommend saying this because after having a nervous breakdown he will absolutely go after you with all pure rage.

Now here are some questions and its explanations:

Where does this idea come from?

Where does the name "The Hunter' come from?

What's Wirt and The Beast's relationship?

Wirt, The Woodsman, The Hunter and The Beast

Where does this idea come from?

It's no surprise that it comes from the idea of a bad ending for Wirt, one that is more fitting with the logic of the series. Because let's be real;

If he accepted the deal he wouldn't turn into the new beast because The Beast's motivation was to survive, he doesn't seem to want a replacement or transpass the role to anyone. In that case he would have already done it with The Woodsman.

The unknown was completely fine with the Beast gone so is not that he is THAT important for the forest to need a replacement.

Also, remember this little scene? it's from chapter 1: The Old Grist Mill. When Wirt and Greg just entered the unknown and suddenly heard the Woodsman cutting wood, before talking to him, Wirt said:

"Do you think it's some kind of deranged lunatic with an axe waiting out there in the darkness for innocent victims?"

So I thought; What if in the bad ending... He became that deranged lunatic?

Where does the name "The Hunter" come from"?

In the concept:

Since there are times when Wirt's victims escape, those who survived spread the word of a maniac who is wandering around the woods, looking for new victims, and once he finds them he will chase them until he can cut them down to the bone with his axe

They named him "The Hunter"

Wirt knows about his new reputation, since the travelers call him that once he reveals his real intentions, but he isn't really aware of all the rumors and stories people of the unknown had made about him, he knows that he will not like them but at the same time he is very curious about it. Some of them are true and others are just exaggerating. But at this point, Wirt Hunter had accepted that now he is one of the particular characters of the unknown.

In technical explanation:

In Over The Garden Wall we saw that most of the characters are named by "the what" for example: The Beast and The woodsman, they had no name by their own outside of their archetype. So I thought that in Wirt's case he would have a name like that, losing his own as a representation of how he has lost his own original identity. Wirt is no longer "the worthy one" anymore because he is more lost than the woodsman ever was, and there is no chance to bring him back, so he became "The Hunter" for the unique faction that makes himself distinguish from The Woodsman: The killing

The woodsman is just a man who lives in the woods and cuts trees, it just happens that the Beast used one to keep the lantern on. However.... The Hunter is someone that hunts, the whole point of a hunter is that he chases living beings and strap them, mostly for need. That is something The Beast himself does in his own way, which makes Wirt and The Beast more similar and unionite than the previous dynamic with The Woodsman, or even I dare say they are just alike; The Creature and The Man who hunts for surviving

Also, more into Bad End Friend's territory; Every evil alternate version has their own unique name, for example the icon trio, Bipper and Ice Finn (Also officially named "The Snowman") but then we have just "Beast Wirt" and until now NOBODY has come up with an actual name that fits him. I remember that someone already suggested the name "The Hunter" for Beast Wirt but it didn't make much sense (At least to me). However, in a woodsman context I think it could work better.

What's Wirt and Beast's relationship?

In Wirt's perspective

Basically a case of Stockholm Syndrome: At first he felt more like a prisoner, The Beast was a figure who he should follow if he wants to keep Greg alive, he is more than Wirt and his power overcomes his young self. However as the time passed, Wirt realized that the Beast can also be very merciful and at the same time rightfully ruthless as his monstrous nature allows him, as he has 'shown' him acts of trust. For Wirt, The Beast is a dark but fair being, not as evil as everyone told. The Beast acts similarly like a father would do towards Wirt, but without that human openly caring love. He is strict and cold, but is for Wirt and Greg's own good

In Beast's perspective:

Wirt is nothing but an interesting experiment. The Beast has been manipulating every little detail of Wirt's surroundings, so he decides to obey him by own choice, which worked out way better than expected. He has seen Wirt changing to fit into his needs, becoming more useful and useful than last time. Anytime the Beast has thought he reached the limit, Wirt proves him wrong and finds a way to pass it and go on anyway. His determination is so fascinating to the Beast that he continues to see how far he could go

Their dynamic:

Naive teen being manipulated by his father figure to be useful for his plans or desires (but even more mess up)

Examples of this kind of dynamic are Rapunzel and Mother Gothel from Tangled (2010) or Hunter and Belos from The Owl House (2020)

Wirt has been alone for so long to the point that he holds tightly to anything that could give him a minimum sign of love, and The Beast knows that more than anyone

He has taken advantage of this, so by convincing Wirt to isolate himself and showing barely love, Hunter would listen and obey him without any doubt. It doesn't matter if The Beast is the main responsible for his situation, things have been twisted so much to that point that Wirt fully believes that this is all his fault. He must do the right thing at any cost, after all, he would do anything for the ones he loves right Gregory?

Wirt, The Woodsman, The Hunter and The Beast

These are the four identities Wirt adopts in the time on the unknown, like states of his sanity slowly decaying

Wirt

The anxious teen we all know and love, the guy he has been during his journey until the point where he faced the Beast face to face

The Woodsman

Wirt post-deal

At first:

He doubts that Greg may be in the lantern, and now he regrets his decision. However he doesn't know what to do now because the guilt for Greg will not leave him in peace, and so Wirt feels like he doesn't deserve to go home, he can't go back, no without Greg. So he still lives in the forest, feeding the lantern and hearing the Beast's words, however The Beast insists that Greg is indeed in the lantern, but Wirt isn't sure whether to believe him or not

Even if Wirt knows he needs the ellewood, like the woodsman, he tries to help and warns about the Beast to those who came into the unknown

The Beast warned him about helping people, but he didn't listen to him until one night. There was an incident where he almost lost Greg's light forever for the lack of ellewood. Since then, Wirt finally cooperates with the Beast

At last:

Wirt knows what he must do. He misguides those who pass through the way in forms to get enough ellewood for Greg, always making sure to keep himself distance and not get too close with them. However there are times where he can't NOT sympathize with the travelers and so he offers his genuine help

The Beast wasn't comfortable knowing that Wirt still kept helping people.

The Hunter

Wirt post-murder

At first:

After his first kill, Wirt felt so guilty that he stopped taking care of his health (He stopped eating, bathing, and stuff) and encaged himself inside the house with all the bottles of oil, fearing that he would hurt someone again

At this time Wirt started to hear the voices of Greg, the rock and the crying of the lost souls, and talk to them until he ran out of oil

When he finally went outside, his body was too weak to even walk and he fell on the grass unconsciously. At that moment the Beast thought Wirt died and so he was about to take off the lantern, but the boy's hands wouldn't stop grabbing it with all the fury. The Beast kept trying until suddenly Wirt woke up and said to him that as long as his brother needs him he would be still here. For his stupid unbreakable determination, the beast didn't see any other option but to take care of the kid

As he recovered, The Beast started to convince him of the idea of taking people as nothing but ellewoods he needs. Wirt didn't like it at first, but the Beast's kind act and the poor health state he put himself into finally made him accept the new task.

At last (actual state):

Most of the time he is alone, searching around the forest for more ellewood to feed Greg with, day and night. He doesn't fully sleep, he takes naps in the afternoon so he can be wake up all night as he wants. To eat he hunts animals, fish, rabbits and some other birds or frogs, whatever living being he finds. To entertain himself he recites poetry and sings songs that the Beast has taught him, all loud like someone would listen to him. At home he writes his poems and composes his own music, mostly for clarinet.

At times the voices are louder and other times they are quiet. If it's Greg then it would be a nice time, if it's the rock fact it's a guarantee he would be at least pissed off, and if it is the distant crying of the lost souls then paranoid it is.

When someone crosses his way, it depends on how things are going to see how things will end. When he just indicates the direction you'll better leave as soon as you can, because the longer you stay and talk to him Wirt will act weirder in hopes for you to leave him alone, otherwise, if you cross the line with your words, he probably will run out of patience and starts to prepare the axe

But it also depends on how likeable he finds you. He could not care and warned you before he attacks you as usual, he could hate you so much to the point that he attacks you with no warning, he could like you and give you five seconds of advantage, and if he likes you a little bit more he would become obsessed with you and will maintain you inside his house so the Beast will not know about your existence as long you don't go outside

The Beast

The Beast (According to the Woodsman's words) is the death of all hope. How low would you have to go so you lost your whole humanity to become the living embodiment of one of the darkness concepts in human kind?

If Wirt ever became the Beast, he should have been falling in grace until the lowest point a person could go. So in my idea of The Hunter, I like to imagine that the differences between The Beast and Wirt would slowly fade away until they are one in the same

Inside The Hunter, Wirt has not only become lost in life but he has also lost his identity, his spirit, his desires and his home. The one thing left to lose is his humanity... His soul

The only thing that separates him from The Beast, is him holding on to the last piece of humanity he has left; Greg

Day after day his sanity is drifting away, but it's because of Greg's existence that he is connected with his humanity, because his actions are meant for Greg's surviving, not his

If Wirt descends to absolute madness and forgets completely about Greg but also openly enjoys his cruelest actions, to the Unknown's eyes, he would no longer be worthy of humanity, and as a punishment he would be cursed to be the successor of the Beast

And becoming worse.

Like I have been having this idea in my mind for a while now and I wanted to share it. I hope you liked my idea and the drawings I made because it really took me a lot of time trying to finish this post because you know... Christmas and happy new year (ah yes, what a happy post to show in these lovely times, yeah!)

SO WHAT YOU THINK?

[siddyyyyyyyy]

It's All an Act

Actor!AU

Bruce Wayne x fem!Reader

wc: 5 K summary: Actor!Bruce plays as your love interest in your up-coming movie warnings: no y/n used, Bruce acting like a rich kid sometimes, fluff, consumption of alcohol at a party, light harrassment a/n: part two is finally here!!! please ignore how long it took for me to write it, just enjoy this piece of my soul. Enjoy!

PREVIOUS PART

NEXT PART

Next day on set felt different. You couldn‘t forget how good he felt against you, how his scent lingered on your clothes after wards and how he shamelessly cock-blocked you. Sure, he has a good reason for it; he wants to make your first time with him special. You appreciate it, you really do, but he could‘ve told you earlier.

At least you both talked about the rest, officially dating and happy. It would have been way better if you could make it public, but with your jobs, you decided on keeping it a secret for the time-being, until some time passes.

But you both don‘t mind, it even feels more thrilling or rather more exciting in that way. Truth be told, it feels like you are in a cheesy romance story. And it‘s the best feeling ever.

Now, you are watching the crew set up the area with cameras, props and mics, making sure everything goes right again while you sip on your coffee. You‘ve barely gotten any sleep anyway after last night, and you really hope Malva won‘t come by and ask for updates. You are unsure what you‘d tell her.

Well, there is no time to panic over things like this and you have to film a more difficult scene today. Which requires stunts, and an angsty scene afterwards, which requires you crying and shouting at him. God, you have a love-hate-relationship with this job.

There is a stunt double of Bruce, actually Andy, that the staff is trying to look more like Bruce with colouring his hair in black and getting him the same clothes he wears for the scene.

You do your best to make sure the few stunts are incredibly safe, working together with the team even though you don‘t understand anything they are talking about, but still make sure they do everything safely.

You panic every time you see Bruce‘s stunt double pratice his falls and jumps, silently letting him do his job and let him focus. Once everything seems to be safe and sound, the action scene starts. Standing by the side, you watch the mission play out smoothly and without any problems. Thank God you didn‘t have enough budget to get explosions in, or else you‘d be worried sick over the planning. The only reason your budget didn‘t fit for some explosions, was because of the cool, high-tech gadget props you bought instead. They are not only cool-looking, but also realistic and mostly useable, if there were real bullets and other things inside.

But just to be sure, you settled on keeping the gadgets unloaded. Just in case something could go wrong.

In all honesty, you expected for Bruce to at least know how to hold a gun the right way. You knew from educating yourself through various videos and posts, so that surprised you. Ignoring the slight surprise, you stay patient beside the stunt choreographer and listen in on the plan of the scene. Shooting it would require some difficulties because of the several cuts and the stunt double, mostly because of the stunt itself.

Andy is going to jump through a window while shooting several enemies inside the room. The coordinator for this scene is trust-worthy and so is the rest of the crew. So, without any further stress, the actors play out their role flawlessly. The camera crew is making sure to capture the action-filled energy of the scene and it seems to work perfectly.

In the end, you worried way too much about it all going wrong in so many ways, that it seems ridiculous to you now. Eventually, after several hours of filming the whole action scene, it‘s time for a bigger break. Bruce looks tired already and you start to feel some kind of guilt for making him do stuff like this. But he auditioned for this role himself, so it‘s also his fault.

You stay back on set to help the rest to pack up the props and clean up the set overall, being busy thinking through the next set of scenes you‘ll have to shoot together after the big break.

A soft tap on your shoulder brings you back to reality and you turn around. Bruce locks eyes with you in an instant, immediately softening his expression.

He asks for cuddles.

»Now?«

You whisper back hushed and take a few steps off the set with him. He looks uncharacteristically vulnerable and almost sheepish.

»A hug will do as well… with you. On a bed. For fifteen minutes.«

His shoulders slump as he waits for your answer, knowing he sounds like a total dork right now. But you couldn‘t care less right now, feeling yourself crumble and give in easily.

»I think your trailer has a bigger bed, no?«

◐

That‘s how you ended up snuggling up together after every tiring day on set. It actually helped setting your mind on track again, being free on talking his ears off with your current plans on the movie and on what dates the interviews are planned. At the mention of interviews, he gets more curious. Of course, you won‘t be making your new relationship public any time soon, the timing just isn‘t right and it could result in more stress than necessary.

So, the interviews you‘ll need to attend with Bruce will be neutral. Well, as neutral as it can be, since you were also invited to a premiere party once the movie will roll in the theaters. But those are worries for your future selfs, you need to focus on the production first.

It happens very rarely, but today Bruce is taking you to set with his own car. You told him countless of times that it is risky and paparrazi are dying to get some crumbs of content or eventual leaks for the upcoming movie. But he doesn‘t seem too scared by it, he is a billionare after all. And who are you to say no to those big, blue eyes?

Arriving, you haven‘t noticed someting suspicious so far. No annoying people with cameras whose shutter is louder than a damn drum kit. It‘s relieving. Finally, something seems to go your way.

»Are these pictures planned? People are freaking out, the hype is getting bigger.«

Malva comes up beside you, holding her Ipad in front of you to see what she‘s talking about.

These goddamn paparrazi.

Her Ipad displays several pictures of you and Bruce walking across the street, his hand resting on your lower back, both of you smiling about something. On the other pictures, you can see the way he gazes down at you, expression soft and loving, almost carefree.

It really does look almost planned, the way you clinge to his side to stay close will make any person think you two are a couple.

You loudly clear your throat and accidentally gain more attention from other crew members, ducking your head with an apologetic smile. Your best friend only raises her eyebrow at you and closes her screen.

»Planned. We did that just a moment ago, totally didn‘t want that to, uh… gain negative attention. All for the hype.«

You quickly answer back and smile at her, rather awkwardly. She keeps her skeptical stare on you and almost seems to ask you more before she decides to drop the topic and move on.

»Just let us discuss something like this next time. Deal?«

»Deal.«

Malva did sound like a disappointed parent, but you really don‘t want to drop the news on her like that. Sighing out, you move on from it and focus on coordinating the rest of the scenes correctly. Using the break to check on the media, you can easily find the hottest topic trending on Twitter at the moment.

Your — the pictures some paparrazzi took — are floating everywhere. It‘s like a disease. Every other acoount is talking about it, pointing out the hand placement and the soft gaze Bruce holds for you.

THE HANDDDD!! is this offocial now? Should‘ve be me. I wish someone looked at me the way Bruce Wayne looks at her both lips are smiling right now Bi panic omg!!

Some comments take you off guard, but you don‘t want to pretend like it isn‘t amusing you, or you were any better as a teenager with celebrity crushes. Forcing yourself not to giggle at your phone, you put it away for the meantime and get back to work like a serious adult.

After the rather uneventful day, you make your way back to Bruce‘s Manor again, having made a meet up again. Mostly consisting of cuddles and reading.

»What do you think of our new photo together? I hit it off, didn‘t I?«

You slowly turn your head over to him, being confused on what he means by that, before it finally clicks in your mind.

»You saw them too? Did you plan this?«

Suddenly, he raises his hands to his defense and shakes his head.

»Of course not! I would‘ve been way more awkward if it was planned… pff, planned.«

You see him cross his arms and glance away, looking like a child who is being accused of having eaten the last cookie. With fresh cookie crumbs on the corner of his mouth.

Sighing out, you let it slide. You end up being cuddled up to his chest either way, basking in the warmth and comfort it brings to your heart.

◐

You finished filming all scenes for the movie and let it get edited and produced by the other team, only dropping in every now and then to check on them and make sure it meets your expectations. The edits and paparazzi pictures even gained their popularity and even hyped up your movie even more. It‘s ridiculous, watching your up-coming movie getting pushed and bigger by some simple edits, that got most probably made by some teenage girls.

You don‘t complain, actually having saved some of those thirst videos yourself. Just make sure Bruce doesn‘t see your phone and you won‘t get into bigger trouble.

Currently, you wait for the last adjustments to be done at the interview before you could start it, already sitting beside the bigger men on the chairs, while the interviewer gets ready to ask her questions.

You are actually a little excited for this, never having answered questions to your own movie. It was always questions for your role, but now you can actually feel like a director too.

Bruce is also prepared beside you, mostly glancing at you before they set up the cameras and the interviewer sits down in front of you.

First, you greet each other, sharing your excitement to be here and answer some questions for the media.

The whole answering questions thing goes on well, making sure neither of you spoil something or give away your secret relationship. Now, the woman before you asks the final question, wearing a sly smile on her face.

»As for the final question, I hope you can answer it without spoiling too much...« with a light nod from your part, she continues, »Did you take inspiration from the vigilante ‚Superman‘ from Metropolis for the superhero in your movie?«

She finishes, awaiting curiously with a twinkle in her eye. She is popular for her usual eagerness and teasing nature in interviews, and it shows now.

Finally, you give her a nod, also smiling lightly.

»Not exactly him, but I did tried to use some references from different vigilantes from around the citys.«

You don‘t notice it, but Bruce tenses up subtly beside you. His eyes stay locked on the interviewer before they fall back to you; making him relax. He speaks up beside you, unable to keep a teasing remark.

»Not the best vigilante to choose from, but fair choice.« His smug expression makes it seem less sharp, giving him a light chuckle back.

»And you know better vigilantes?« You tease back amused, not having expected for him to be so smug but you won‘t complain.

The interview ends well, having a nice feeling about it afterwards. Your ways part with Bruce, sadly having to go back to work and focus on yourself for the rest of the day.

It was an unspoken rule between the two fo you to ignore or answer relationship questions in a sly way, and luckily, there were no questions of the sort. But you know, as soon as questions like “How do you not catch any feelings during the movie?“ or, “Your chemistry is great! Have you seen the pictures on set, because you two look fantastic together.“, you had to be prepared for more harrasment about it in the future.

Today, is one of those days, where you wish talkshows weren‘t a thing.

»So… the edits. Let‘s talk about them! There‘s hundreds, no, thousands of them all around! Have you seen any of those before?« Asks the moderator, while wearing an amused smirk and watches your reaction. You already feel like this can go south really quickly and shake your head, staying composed.

»Haven‘t seen any of them… yet.«

He quirks an eyebrow at you, letting out a light chuckle. »Well, you‘re about to see some of them!«

With a dramatic arm motion of his, the large screen behind you lights up and starts to show some fan made edits of both Bruce and you. Scenes of the trailer and some leaks, as well as paparazzi pictures, are clipped together that make everything look all the more intimate. Not knowing how to react, you cover your face and hope for the best. The live audience cheers loudly, the camera cutting from your flustered state to the audience as they continue on showing the fan made edit on screen. The moderator finally cuts you some slack, laughing at your flustered state. It‘s not helping, but you are glad that Bruce isn‘t here, witnessing it all and maybe throwing in some teasing comments too.

Sighing out, you look back at the moderator and calm down again. What were you thinking, joining a late night talk show like this?

»I never want to see that again...«

»Oh, just one more.« The moderator teases and smiles widely, letting another edit play on screen. It‘s one that you have saved on your phone. Recognising it, you try your best not to react as embarrassed as before. Still, your rosy cheeks give it away, even though you are way calmer now. Finn, the moderator, feels more friendly than ususal and decides to not point it out. For now, the show had enough entertainment after having had a rather funny conversation with him and showing you these thirst edits.

◐

Finally having a day off, you decide to spend it together with your significant other and relax. Bruce however, doesn‘t seem to have enough of creating core memories together, that you‘ll spend thinking about for the next ten years.

»Oh, thanks for the delicious meal, Alfred. You are dismissed for now.« Bruce tells him with a soft smile and nod, watching how the butler leaves the dining room and lets the chaos begin.

Richard, or Dick, the eldest of his sons, seems to be the most adequate, but also the most lively among his brothers. Bruce has already told one embarrasing story about his parkour accidents during a gala, which made you laugh a bit. That made Dick stay a little more quiet in return, getting the hint that more of his teasing nature will be greatly regretted. Somehow, the table was mostly calm during the dinner. Most of the conversation was started by Dick or Bruce, some comments coming from Damian as well. Although, not the nicest.

Still, they managed to behave rather well. That was, until Alfred returned with some scrumptious looking dessert. After serving tea, the table tends to get more lively. Tim and Damian often bicker quietly about who‘s getting the next piece faster, however you try not to pay too much mind and not make it awkward. Jason on the other hand, stays seated by Dick‘s side and makes fun of the two younger brothers.

»No wonder you‘re both such fatasses.«

»Jason.« Bruce smiles at his second son, trying his best not to physically cringe at himself for needing to keep his sons under control in front of you.

You, however, don‘t really care much about the antics around the table. You‘ve seen way worse at a small children‘s birthday party, so this actually feels domestic, in a way.

»It‘s okay, father. We… are sharing this last cupcake.« Damian intervenes and seems tense as he cuts up the last sweet dessert in half. He makes sure to make one half bigger than the other and gives the smaller one to Tim. Luckily, Bruce feels more satisfied and relaxed after that and continues on sipping his tea beside you, at the head of the table.

After the nice dinner with his family, you try to help Alfred with cleaning the table up, but he kindly stops you and insists on doing it alone.

»I greatly appreiciate it, but I believe master Bruce prefers to have you all to himself tonight. I will handle this by myself.« Convinced, you leave the butler alone and make your way to Bruce, who just finished talking to his boys.

»There you are… let‘s head upstairs, darling.« His arm snakes around your waist as you walk upstairs to his master bedroom, getting some well deserved privacy after the long, hard-working week. Inside, he can‘t contain his feelings anymore and picks you up, just to throw you both onto his bed and curl up with you. The room fills with light giggles from the both of you, turning it into a play fight on the bed. It doesn‘t take long for Bruce to get hold of your wrists and pin you down under him, looking as smug as ever over his win. You continue to squirm and try to fight him, although you don‘t try to get away from him; just enjoying the playful moment. Finally, he gets to make your legs go still aswell, putting more of his weight onto you.

»Now, be good and stay still for a moment, hm? Wouldn‘t want to hurt my pretty girl...« You can hear him sigh out lightly as he leans into the crook of your neck, planting soft kisses along your skin before he gently bites down, leaving light marks. It makes you instantly relax, enjoying the way he manages to be so gentle and passionate at the same time. He also relaxes, finally feeling more comfortable showing his affection this way and simply keeps going, not wanting to end this yet. His bigger hand trails down your thigh, urging it to hook around his hip, seemingly craving more contact with you.

A light hum leaves your lips, tangling your fingers into his black hair, gasping lightly once he starts to nibble harder on your skin. It leaves goosebumps down your spine, shifting to wrap your other leg around him too. Suddenly, this doesn‘t feel so innocent anymore.

Bruce tries his best to hold back on a groan, eventually exhales shakily against you. He finally stops his gentle attack on your neck, leaning away to admire his handiwork. You take him in from your position, watching the way his eyes are blacked out and his breathing grew rather uneven. His eyes dart back to you, shifting so he isn‘t crushing you under his weight.

»I could never grow tired of this, you know?«

Bruce secretly cringes at himself for being so vulnerable, so open with you. But judging by your reaction, you seem to love it. The way your eyes soften even more, how you stay completely relaxed and peaceful under him is saying enough. Your hand reaches out to cup his cheek, bringing him closer again to exchange more gentle kisses between each other. The evening turns out in you both being relaxed and endlessly exchanging affection together, growing dissapointed once it gets late.

As you prepare yourself to put your coat back on by the front door, Bruce gets held back by Alfred.

»You know, she can always stay over night. One night won‘t hurt, master Bruce.«

But he doesn‘t relent and shakes his head, a light frown stretching on his face. »I don‘t have time for this, Alfred.«

As quick as he dismissed his butler, he is right back at your side and helps to adjust your sleeves from your coat.

»Let me drive you home,« You go along without argument and follow him outside to the garage, sitting into the passanger seat and let him drive.

◐

»Bruce! We got invited to our first ever premiere-movie-party-thing!«

You exclaim as soon as he picks up the call, making him exhale in relief. After a short pause, he asnwers back.

»Premiere-moive-party-thing? I gotcha,« he chuckles, putting finally closing the big folder on his desk after studying it for hours, »I‘m pretty sure it‘s because we‘re the lead actors of the whole thing… and you are the director.«

His casual approach makes you roll your eyes, rolling onto your stomach in your bed. »Yes, but isn‘t it cool? I never went to one, what is that like? Do you think it‘ll be filled with annoying rich people?« You start twirling your hair as you continue to talk with him, listening to his response with a light smile.

»They‘re alway filled with ‘em. I always get black-out drunk, so it‘s easier to deal with it. The music isn‘t the greatest as well… it actually feels more like a frat party sometimes.« His description of it makes you chuckle, making Bruce smile in return.

»So… do you think we should go there anyways?«

»Of course we should. Especially you, makes your image go up higher.« He replies back without thinking too much. It makes sense, and you don‘t think too much about going to that party. You heard they will be some interviewers, so you better not get black-out drunk.

◐

Arriving outside the tall building, the bass that‘s heard from inside is making you lightly

intimidated. Taking a deep breath, you say your last prayer and enter. In the lobby, you need to check in and get a colourfull wristband, signalling your status so the security knows who to protect in an case of emergency. The others can save themselves.

shortly after you, Bruce arrives and goes through the same check-in as you. He spooks you lightly by snaking his hand onto your shoulder, earning a surprised gasp and smack to his chest.

»Sorry… having fun already?« He leans down to be at your eye-level and sneak in a gentle kiss, but quickly decides against it and smoothly straightens himself again. Although, he keeps his hand on your waist.

»I don‘t know, nothing happened yet. And I don‘t know where the drinks are, I‘m kinda nervous,« you hold your hands out for him, letting him see the light tremors coming from your nervousness. He frowns lightly upon seeing your hands, taking them into his warm ones.

»You don‘t have to worry so much, okay? Just a small party, you‘ll answer some questions and we can leave. How‘s that sound?«

You feel more comfortable after his assurance and nod, restraining yourself from leaning into him and being more affectionate.

Eventually, the party starts properly after more actors and other public-figures arrive, turning the music up a notch. Currently, you‘re having fun and enjoy some sweet, alcoholic drinks, relaxing further and taking things easy. Following Bruce‘s advice of drinking definitely worked, and you soon have your first interview as one reporter approaches you with a camera man by his side. After getting permission from you, the camera starts rolling and the reporter gets started.

»We‘ve already seen some sneak-peeks and the trailer alone gives us so much insight on your chemistry with Andy, so… was it difficult to master such energy or did it come naturally?«

Typical question to try and suck some possible gossip from an actor, but you are greatly used to it, eventually giving him your typical answer back.

»Oh, you know, it really depends if the actors are good or not. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn‘t, so it really depends on both actors to create the right perfomance.« Definitely not the answer the reporter was searching for, but he‘ll settle with it for now. Robert starts again, angling his microphone back to himself.

»What was hardest on this movie? The directing or acting with your own expectations and critique?« A more pleasant question to answer. You respond honestly, giving an open insight of how stressful it really was, being both the director and actor in one.

Eventually, Robert seems to back down with his questions after five more minutes, starting to build up a more casual conversation with you. Logically, you can‘t really back down from it and simply go along, listening to him talk and speak aswell.

»...Yes— and your dress? Seriously, I couldn‘t take my eyes off you the whole interview, I don‘t know why there aren‘t a line of men standing right behind you, waiting for your attention!« You chuckle along, although a bit forced. »No, seriously, I love the way you look tonight. Who was your stylist, I should give her a raise,« Robert steps closer to you, wearing a charming smile, the best one he can muster. You stay still and simply try to joke along and bear it through for a couple more moments, eyes daring out to search for back-up.

»Would you believe that I was her stylist for tonight? All my work.« Bruce steps in, seemingly appearing out of nowhere into the frame and casually lays his hand back onto your waist, wearing a smug smile. Robert pauses briefly before he catches himself and gets back to being a ‘casual-playful‘ reporter.

»No way! I‘ll make sure to write that into my news report later.« The reporter awkwardly says goodbye after receiving a light chuckle from the other and finally shuffles away from the both of you, camera man following him closely. You can barely make out the way Robert scolds his camera man for something that was most-probably not his fault anyway.

»Next time just scream really loud, I‘ll be there in no time.« Without wanting to cause any unnecessary attention, he squeeyes your waist and eventually gets back to the party, searching for some more interviewers too. Without any further thinking, you go back to the bar and get yourself another drink. One drink becomes two, and you make sure to stay leaned against something in order not to lose balance. You settle on being more in the backgrounds for now, but you quickly change your mind once they turn on some up-beat music and free the dance floor. It‘s already packed with other famous people, them being drunk too, no doubt. They happily include you into the chaos, dancing however to the beat all-together. You slip in another few drinks and shots during that time, just enjoying yourself and letting lose. Finally, after what seemed like too long and not enough, you get yourself off the dancefloor to have a quick trip to the bathroom.

With wobbly legs and aching feet, you manage to get there and freshen up, feeling lighter afterwards, but also way more drunk than before. You try to make your wy back to the dance floor, but you briefly lose your sense of orientation and simply stand there, trying to figure out how to get back to the fun girls.

»Are we ookay to head back home, darling?« A smooth voice asks from your side and almost makes you roll your eyes, not recognising it right away.

»Bruce!«

»Hey— yeah, that‘s me...« He chuckles softly, and catches you gently as soon as you lean in to hug him tightly. You feel the way his hands rub along your back before they stop at your sides and just keep you steady on your feet.

»Can we go now?« Bruce leans down to talk better to you, his breath brushing against you ear. You let out a soft giggle, leaning back and meet his eyes. It‘s clear to him that you will try your everything to at least get a last drink before driving home. As expected, you pout at him and glance back to the general direction of the dancefloor.

»No, darling, c‘mon...«

»Please?« You draw out and lean more into him, grabbing lightly onto his shirt. He takes you in, trying his best not to get distracted by your shiny eyes and cute behaivour, most likely trying to play it up for him. He manages to stay stubborn and shakes his head lightly, his expression growing soft.

»We have to go home, okay? It‘s too late and you‘ll regret it tomorrow.« He tries to be as gentle as possible, lightly rubbing your side with one hand. With a final huff, you slump a bit into him and give in. A faint smirk graces Bruce‘s face and carefully guides you out of the building, finally setting you inside the car with care.

The car ride was mostly filled with your yapping, being happy about the fun dances you had together with the strange women, still shining with excited energy, even after the party. Finally at your house, he takes care of you, carefully taking your make-up off before changing you into more comfortable clothes. You don‘t remember much after that, being out cold the second your blanket envelopes your form.

Waking up was the worst part. Your head pounds as if some gremlin is on top of it and slams a hammer onto you repeatedly. After sitting up, you realise that you are already in your fuzzy pyjamas and cleaned up. Not paying too much mind to it, you reach for your phone at your nightstand, almost knokcing off the glass of water on it. Surprised, you study your small table and pick the note off of it.

Hope your head won‘t kill you today. Cute pyjamas, by the way. -B.

←MASTERLIST

[numberonetacostan]

homeless taco head cannons break my heart

….

so uh.

have any?

Hello there!!!!^^ Welcome, and thank you for sending in your request!!! :] YOU BET I HAVE HEADCANONS FOR HOMELESS TACO!!! I THINK I'VE SAID SOME IN VARIOUS ANSWERS/POSTS BEFORE BUT I'LL TRY PUTTING ONES I DON'T THINK I'VE POSTED BEFORE!!! YAY HOMELESS HEADCANONS REQUEST!!!!! I love getting hc requests of any sort!!!^^

-Justin confirmed from one of my stream questions that Taco had stolen food from the hotel while she was homeless!!! I definitely think she avoided doing this at all costs, but during winters when she couldn't forage much if any food from the woods, she'd sneak into the hotel at night after like, a week of not eating to grab as much as she can and gtfo!!! Normally she could probably get in and out safely, but again, she hasn't eaten in a week. I think she would get caught by Pepper, who I had mentioned in my one-hc-for-everyone post to be the resident chef in the hotel!!! It's winter so it gets dark early, and Taco has no sense for what time it is other than the sun, so she accidentally goes in too early and Pepper walks in on her raiding the cabinets. Pepper is understandably surprised, but Taco tries to deescalate!! With her current state though, it comes off more like begging Pepper not to rat her out, and I honestly don't think she would. We have a very homeless, starving, freezing, and bedraggled Taco, and Pepper just can't bring herself to do it. She just turns to whatever food she's making and warns Taco that OJ or Paper might be in the check on the meal any moment. Taco leaves and Pepper never says a word. Sorry about the Tacopep friendship propaganda but i want them to be friends.

-I think Taco would spend a lot of time in the Gemory Cave!! It's basically the only "inside" she can access for when it's snowing, raining, etc., yeah? Staying in the forest during a thunderstorm would be more danger than it's worth for her, and with all the tunnels she'd be able to stay hidden pretty well. I'd say she has a few hidey holes in there, small enough that only she and a handful of contestants would even be able to get inside, where she keeps her most important possessions. At least, what she can't hold in her shell, yeah?

-Mephone did not program Taco with the proper knowledge or skills to survive in the wild. She had to figure everything out through trial and error, including what food is and isn't safe to eat. She had a lot of miserable evenings in those early days, throwing up what little she had managed to scrounge together for a meal, hallucinations, headaches, etc., etc.

--Due to these skills though, she's kinda the MVP of the group post-canon. She's the only one who has a lot of these skills and can work successfully with only the resources they can get from the land. She keeps them from going through the same trial and error phase that she had to, especially important now that they can't recover anymore.

-I think she put the sign in front of the Perilous Forest there herself while she was living in the woods, to keep the others from coming in and finding her. What's so perilous about it? Her.

-Rather than sleeping on the ground, I see her sleeping in trees. She's a Taco, she could reasonably nudge herself into a position in which she won't fall, and at least try to fall asleep. It would be a bit risky if case she fell, but it's definitely better than the risk of getting caught unawares. I don't see her sleeping nearly enough when she's homeless, though, and post-canon when she's in the mansion she sleeps for like 27 hours straight and feels better than she has in years.

-I mentioned in another recent post Taco being afraid of snow because of past instances of severe hypothermia!!! And, yeah, if it snows, or even just gets cold enough, she's fucked. The best she has is the cave, and even then, it wouldn't help much. And she's malnourished, which makes her even more prone to it!!! She does not get proper treatment ever!!!!! I'd say she's had some very, very close calls with frostbite, maybe a rough case of pneumonia or two, more hallucinations because they're great for angst, irregular heartbeat (if they have hearts), etc., etc.

Hopefully these seven are enough!!! If you do want more, feel free to let me know!!! Headcanons are so much fun, I'm always happy to answer requests like these!!!^^

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Load!Kirk asking reader to be in an open relationship (mostly to hook up with groupies guilt free), while she’s devastated initially, she then comes out with a plan to avenge herself. At one of parties a few months later (with Kirk totally enjoying himself on tour) he finds her on Slash’s lap with guitar- Slash is teaching her to play and even promises to write her a song. Kirk is mad, but reader reminds him that open relationship works both ways, so she can sleep with whoever she wants too - so he finally understands how much he messed up and apologies?

I hope you like it!❤

Open wounds

“I’ve been thinking,” Kirk said, his tone almost too casual. He leaned against the couch, his guitar resting beside him. “Maybe we should try an open relationship.”

I froze, unsure if I’d heard him correctly. “What?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding my eyes. “You know, it’d make things easier. No guilt if something happens on tour. And you’d have the same freedom.”

Freedom? That’s what he called it? My stomach twisted as the meaning sank in. I could already picture the groupies—backstage, in hotel rooms, on his lap—laughing and clinking drinks while I sat at home, trying to convince myself it didn’t mean anything.

“You don’t think this is going to hurt me?” I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.

His brow furrowed, like he hadn’t even considered it. “It’s not like I love you any less,” he added quickly, as if that made it better.

The betrayal stung, sharp and hot. But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. “Fine,” I said, my voice cold.

His face lit up with relief. “Really? Thanks for understanding. You’re amazing.”

I sat there, silent, as he kissed my forehead and disappeared to pack for the tour. The moment the door closed, I let the tears fall.

 

The first few months were agony. Every magazine rack was a minefield. There he was on the glossy covers, headlines like “Kirk Hammett’s Wild Nights on Tour!” and “Metallica Guitarist Spotted With Mystery Blonde!” screaming at me. The photos were worse—his arms around some fan, laughing like he didn’t have a care in the world.

It was humiliating. But after weeks of stewing, I came to a decision. If Kirk wanted an open relationship, it worked both ways. I wasn’t going to sit at home playing the fool while he had all the fun. 

The afterparty was packed, smoky, and loud. The energy was electric, the high from the night’s show still buzzing through the room. Kirk was somewhere in the mix, but I wasn’t there for him.

“Here, like this,” Slash murmured, his gravelly voice close to my ear as he adjusted my fingers on his guitar. He was perched on a couch, and I was sitting sideways on his lap, my legs draped casually over his.

“Am I getting it?” I asked, letting my voice sound light and teasing.

“You’re a quick learner,” he said with a grin, his fingers brushing mine as he helped me form the chords. “Maybe I’ll write you a song someday.”

I laughed, tossing my hair over my shoulder. That’s when I saw Kirk.

He stood in the doorway, drink in hand, his dark eyes locked on me. His expression shifted—from confusion, to anger, to something more vulnerable.

“Having fun?” he asked, his voice sharp as he walked toward us.

I looked up, feigning surprise. “Oh, hey, Kirk. Didn’t see you there.”

“What’s going on here?”

Slash leaned back, his smirk as relaxed as ever. “Just teaching her a few chords. She’s got talent.”

Kirk’s jaw clenched. “You’re sitting on his lap.”

“And?” I asked, standing up and handing the guitar back to Slash, who gave me a playful wink. “This is what you wanted, remember?”

“That’s not—” he started, running a hand through his hair.

“Oh, but it is,” I said, crossing my arms. “You get to hook up with whoever you want, and so do I. Fair is fair, right?”

His face softened as the reality of his choices hit him. For the first time, I saw guilt in his eyes. “I didn’t think...”

“No, you didn’t,” I interrupted, my voice sharp. “You didn’t think about how much this would hurt me. About how humiliating it is to see you on magazine covers with some random woman. About how it would feel to be treated like I don’t matter.”

“I was selfish,” he admitted, his voice low. “I thought I could handle it. I thought it’d be easy, but... seeing you with someone else—” He broke off, shaking his head. “I hate it. I hate that I made you feel this way. I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

I raised an eyebrow, letting his words hang in the air. “You can’t just say sorry and expect everything to go back to normal, Kirk.”

“I know,” he said, stepping closer. “I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. I’ll stop—everything. No more open relationships, no more groupies. I just want you.”

For a moment, I stared at him, my emotions warring inside me. Anger, sadness, and a flicker of hope.

“You’re going to have to prove it,” I said finally, my voice softer. “No more taking me for granted.”

“I will,” he promised, his eyes steady on mine. “I’ll prove it to you.”

I gave him a small smile, brushing past him. “Good. Because Slash promised me a song, and I’d hate to miss out.”

As I disappeared back into the crowd, I felt his eyes on me. For the first time in months, Kirk wasn’t the carefree rockstar surrounded by adoring fans—he was just a man who finally understood what he stood to lose.