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kenwio · 2 days ago

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Joker's kid! reader : how batfamily would react on them trying to end their life

Route : recovered dove

Please read warnings before reading this one!

If you do not feel like reading it, it's okay! (Spoilers will be at the end of this part) Please have tea or hot cocoa, and read relax 💖 and remember there are people who care and support you 💖 I'll be posting more fluff in future parts

Warnings : heavy topics, mentions of death, implications of self-destructive behavior and suicidal behavior, hurt/comfort, traumatized characters.

Idea for this part from this ask here . I also used this idea for comfort part form here

Author's note : I'm including this part in route: Recovered dove only because I want to show that mental healing of Joker's kid is a long way, it had ups and downs, but in the end they have family who acres about them now.

You don't know what exactly triggered it. Maybe it was the fact that everyone started discussing break out in Arkham asylum instead of the usual breakfast convention, maybe it was how Bruce said he didn't have time for you, maybe it was how Alfred was distant today, so you thought something wrong, maybe it was that Dick ignored you today, maybe it was that Jason's aggressive demeanor when you saw him, maybe it was Tim's comment when you brought him coffee, maybe it was Damian's harshness when you meet him near your room today.

That all made you feel so lost. To see them all being unwelcoming to you again was overwhelming. Is it because your father is free again, and they thought you'd be helping him? Wait if your father is free... he will want you back. You don't want back! No! You don't want to be with him again! You do not want to be experimented on again, be beaten up by him again. You thought it was finally over, that you were taken away from that life, never to return. You thought you found family! Why does he have to ruin your life again? He drove her away from you already, the only person who protected you before Batman and his birds, the only person who was your family before them, your mom ... and now he is doing it again; he is taking your family away again! But were they your family? You thought that Bruce was thinking about you as his own child, you thought that Alfred was proud of your progress, you thought that Dick was happy to spend time with you, you thought that Jason was enjoying your shared reading time, you thought that Tim liked to study with you, you thought that Damian finally accepted you. Were you wrong? Was it all a lie? Did they want to use you as bait for your father? Or did they think you would be able to tell them something about him? Was that a reason why they got close to you? But now that they see they were wrong, and after they made sure you didn't know anything, they decided to drop the act?

Was it all a happy dream that's just ended? If it was a dream, you don't want to wake up to the nightmare of your previous life. You can't take the suffering anymore. You need to make it stop to end it, to end it all.

You didn't know how long you were in you were in your thoughts, when you got up. You wanted to live. The room that became your own, became your safe space now felt like JOKE. You needed to get away from it. You struggled to open the window, as it required much strength from your shaking hands. But you were persistent in your efforts to open it, and in the end window opened. You looked down, it was quite high, and you knew that for your body, which was unlike theirs, weak and fragile, it would be enough. You've seen a grown man die when he fell from his high back in a crime alley, so for you, it will definitely be enough. Oh, crime alley, you don't want to go there. You don't want to return to life with Joker. You stood up on the windowsill, looking at the green grass down, feeling the cold night wind against your skin. Your head felt heavy, ringing in your ears just made it all worse. You took one step, and you felt incredibly calm. You took another step, only to be pulled away from the windowsill on the ground and held up. You didn't register the loud voice, the way someone was shaking you. You just sit there staring at nothing in particular, not even able to cry because of how tired you are.

In the meantime, Damian, the one who pulled you away from the window, had already called everyone and was trying hard to make you snap out of it. Yet it was not helping. When Bruce arrived, he moved Damian, who was looking at you with extreme worry, aside. Bruce recognized your expression; he had seen it before - thousand-yard stare - your own mind was protecting you from whatever you were feeling. As he was trying to help you, holding you against him, trying to soothe you, the rest of the family arrived in your room, seeing scared Damian, worried Bruce, and you... you looked so broken. It was too hard on them all

A few hours later, when you fell asleep after you came to your senses and cried for a while, Bruce and others started figuring out what made you feel this way. And it didn't take long; they are a family of detectives, after all. And this all made them feel really bad, guilty. As it turned out, on this day, you were too unlucky to notice only the bad sides of things.

There wasn't any breakout In Arkham asylum. Turns out, the lead they were investigating turned out to be false. Bruce, indeed, was busy, but he failed to communicate this in the normal way: he only added that he would try to make some only by the time you stepped away, which he didn't notice. Alfred was distant because he had a migraine today, but he still wanted to work around the house; there were too many chores to be done in the Wayne manor. Dick didn't mean to ignore you, he was too tired after his few nights of being up and he just failed to notice your quiet presence, being too busy thinking about his bed. Jason was behaving aggressively because of the lead about break out from Arkham asylum, which was the one that he followed for his case, and since it was false; it took the case he was working on back to square one. Tim actually was mumbling about his case, quietly cursing criminals, and not you; just like Jason, he had too much trouble because of that stupid lead. Damian stepped in at the last second to help you avoid stumbling and falling when you were waking in your room, which resulted in his harshness to you, but you were too deep in your panic to notice that his gaze was more worried than angry. If Damian wouldn't have been worried and decided to check up on you... non of them want to think about it.

They spend night in your room and in the morning, they talked to you, communicating how things actually were the previous day, and expressing how important you were to them.

It was a shock to everyone. Even Bruce thought it was going fine, that your session was working and helping you, that you were feeling safe, and that your relationships with the rest of the family were getting better. And he knew that what happened damaged the whole family because they almost lost you. He regretted that he didn't phrase his words correctly, feeling like he failed to show his care for you. He knew he should have been careful with words, he knows how impactful they can be. And since he said he hadn't got time for you he started making time for you. He wants you to know that he cares for you and he will make time for you wherever you need him. His one daily check-up became 2 check-ups, and when he had more free time, he checked up more. He pays extra attention to you. Even your little sneeze will make him worried to the point of examination in a medbay. He stays with you, and sometimes talks with you, encouraging you to open up and share your opinion and feelings. He tries to lessen the influence of "bad guidelines" (that were with you because of Joker) in your head. He helps you talk through your feelings, helps you show them and process them. He reminds you that you are cared for now. And he promises that he will protect you. After hearing you out, learning your fears and insecurities, and when he learned out that most of all you are afraid to go by your father's way, he promises you that he will do everything in his power to prevent you from taking this way. Bruce wants you to be happy, to make good memories. You already got unlucky with your father, who made you experience hell, but Bruce will try to be the best Dad he can for you.

Alfred felt so guilty. He knew you needed care, but he was distracted. He feels like he let you down, by forgetting how fragile and sensitive you are. He knew you were struggling; he had seen it himself. If only he had paid you more attention. But Alfred, better than anyone else, knows that he shouldn't be focusing on the past; he needs to work on the present, and he needs to make sure you feel better. He makes sure to make you more happy while he can. It's always your favorite tea at the tea time you share, with his cookies, of course, which he bakes with you from time to time. It's always your comfort shows or documentaries on TV when you two watch something. He also makes sure no one dares to make you feel uncomfortable, even if it will make him look around like Hawk. But Alfred understands that he can't always be around; that's exactly why he makes sure that he teaches you at least a few techniques that would be able to help with worry and anxiety, and he practices them with you. You are his little star, who may be really quiet but still efficiently lights up his days, and he doesn't want to lose you. When you share that you are afraid your family will reject you, he personally goes to everyone, making sure that they won't be saying something that contains a message. He wants to see you all grown up and happy in the end; he will work hard to make sure your life in Manor will be good.

Even when Dick just heard how Damian called for help for you, he felt shocked, what to say when he saw and understood the situation. What do you mean his baby sibling tried to make their life end when he was blissfully unaware, sleeping in his old room? How? What he missed? Just a few days before, you seemed on your way to becoming the happy sunshine of a kid, and now that has happened? He is your older brother and he missed all the singes?! He needs to sit down. It's too hard to accept this version of reality for him. The reality is that he can lose another member of the family. He knows what it is like to lose a sibling, and he will never want to experience it or feel this pain again. And knowing that it's you who tried to end your life makes it all worse. He tries to understand what pushed you, trying to see what he can do to prevent this from happening. He also tries to distract you from all the negativity in your life with quality time and different activities. The incident shook him hard, and while he hoped to introduce you to cuddles differently, he had to do it now. He needs to make sure you are close, still warm, still safe, still alive. And it seemed like cuddling with him made you calmer; you didn't even realize how touch-starved you were until then. It became a sort of comforting ritual for both of you, cuddling, sometimes just cuddling, sometimes while watching something. While cuddling he often says sweet words of reassurance to you. And while he knows he can't stay in Manor forever, he makes sure you know that he is always here for you, just a call away.

Jason was mad at himself for allowing himself to snap at you earlier. He feels incredible guilt that he was the reason that you were in that state. For a few days after, he could only watch you in your room or living room until he talked about his feelings and the incident (how he calls it because he can't speak that out loud, it physically hurts him to admit it) with Bruce and Dick. He started slowly approaching you, continuing your reading sessions, but also, sometimes, he decided just to start talking with you. He shares with you his experiences in the crime alley, and you share yours; you both know that only you two in the whole family could understand the full horror of this place, and that's aside from the fact that both of you know the full horror of Joker. He says to you that you'll never become like him, because he sees you are different. Jason tries to comfort you, yet he knows he is not ideal in it, but he is willing to try as much as he can just for you. He can understand that you feel lonely; he can only imagine how lonely you get when all the family is busy with vigilante work. It got him thinking, remembering. He remembers times when he was still Robin, and sometimes, when he got hurt, he stayed in his room alone, and. he hated it. Back when Dick gifted him a plushie of a bat, and now, in another attempt to comfort you, he brings this old plushie to you. He tells you that this plushie kept him company and protected him from everything bad, and now it will protect you, and now you'll never be alone anymore; your family's love will be here for you.

Tim was second after Damian to arrive in your room. This sight horrified him. He just froze, in shock. For once, he didn't know how to act or what to do. After everyone made sure you were okay, and his brain began working again, he started to do what he knew best - investigating and researching to find ways of how to help you, trying them with you in the meantime. Art therapy? He tried to hold a few sessions with you. Special games? You both alredy beating third one. Special music? Here is his player, listen when you want. He becomes more attentive to you, noticing every little detail. He knows as a person who likes studies like him, you would want to learn more about your mental health and how to care about yours. He found a way to explain the basics of it all to you in a way that is easier for you to understand, and only when she reads articles (that he chose, of course) about mental health and coping mechanisms. You want to cuddle with him while reading? Good, he will do it (he is happy that Dick showed you how to cuddle and totally not jealous). You want to stay with him while he works? Okay, sure, he is here for you. He makes sure you can ask him anything; he reminds you that you are safe with him and with others. So when you ask about Arkham and your father there he makes sure to show you that Arkham is hard to get out (even if it's not true).

Damian didn't like how it felt to see you on the windowsill. He doesn't like how it feels to see you in this state. He doesn't like fear. But fear made one thing clear: he cares about you. He hadn't understood how important you became until that incident happened. You are his sibling, and even if he did not choose you, even if he was against the idea of you being in the family at first, now he knows you held a place in this family like everyone else. And now he knows that he will do everything in his power to make you safe; he will protect you even from yourself. He asked Bruce to install precautions in your room. He follows you like your shadow everywhere you go. He makes sure that there is no danger in your way. He checks up on how you sleep after patrols. He makes sure to be nicer when he is around you, and he heads to ask Father, Pennyworth, and Grayson how exactly to behave around you. He joins in Tim the research of ways for you to cope with traumas or ways to comfort you, and when he sees articles about how communicating with animals improves mental health, he brings Titus to you, and when he goes for walks with Titis he makes sure to take you on them too since he also found out that walks improve mental health, and since it's walking with Titus it's beneficial in double. He protects you and he cares for you even if he struggles with proving it

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Thank you for reading! Feel free to share your opinion and have a good day 💖

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Tag list :

@socially-embarrassing , @leovergurl , @deathbynarcisstick , @cryptic-arr0w , @lynns-cornerr , @cxcilla , @charlotteking23 , @ninihrtss , @lillycore , @pix-stuff , @tfamidoingwithmylife , @linoalwaysknows , @00hellohello00 , @lilithskywalker , @bagofrice , @lenaisaloser , @devilslittlehelper , @camilo-uwu , @l3v1us , @eyeless-kun , @stargazingbutgayer, @wpdarlingpan , @weirdothatreads , @maybea1 @lyla-viper-wayne @amber-content @lizzyzzn

if i forgot to add someone to the tag list, please let me know, and i will add you to the next part

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Spoiler:

Next chapter connected to this (click here) and after that I'll finally write about Joker's kid! reader hair dyeing adventures

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sylvia-und-sybille · 2 days ago

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💯 [100] How many words does your WIP currently have? How many words do you hope it’ll have when it’s done? Around 0.75K+ now, and whatever happens, that happens.

⌛️ [Hourglass] How long have you been working on this WIP? A week.

📚 [Books] Is this WIP part of a series or standalone? AU location (starts as) and aged-up characters.

🎀 [Bow] How many named characters are in this WIP? How many do get a POV? OTP only. 3rd person everything & 1st character's "POV."

💖 [Heart] What is your favorite moment in this WIP? OTP work together behind a closed door.

🎶 [Notes] Do you have any other WIP related things, like moodboards, character portraits, playlists or similar? It can happen in 0.001% of cases (if, then fanfictions only.)

📖 [Open Book] What form do you want this WIP to take when it’s done? Posted, printed, published, etc? Posted only.

🐀 [Rat] Name three reasons why this WIP is great at being insert genre here. (You can send a genre, or let the recipient pick one.) Romance as it's about a lot of love (as in every fanfiction about them.)

🐁[Mouse] Name three reasons why this WIP is horrible at being insert genre here. (You can send a genre, or let the recipient pick one.) Humour. Unfortunately, no funny moments.

🔎 [Magnifier] Is there a phrase/word you know you use too often? Will you change it in editing? Unfortunately, I use the same phrases from other fanfictions | original stories. When there's nothing better, I keep it as is.

🍖 [Meat] How many fictional people were harmed in the making of this WIP? EVERY SINGLE of my fanfictions & original stories has happy end (unless past when I wanted to write about harm done to or defeat of a bad or unpleasant character.) Zero harm in thus case.

🌈 [Rainbow] If at the beginning of your WIP the characters knew about the end, would they kill you to stop you from writing it? Rather hug.

‍🎨 [Palette] If your WIP was a color, which color would it be? Rainbow, as they deserve.

🍩 [Donut] What’s the weirdest thing someone eats in your WIP? What’s the best thing? No food or drinks are mentioned.

🔒 [Lock] Would you let your family, friends, or other people you know in real life read your WIP? No, and I almost don't know people in real life. Yes, I'm so called "live under a rock."

🖋️ [Pen] Describe your WIP in a single, terrible sentence. The most unlikely new couple as the result of a dating show.

❌ [Cross] What would your WIP get cancelled on Twitter for? Two women with 22 years age gap (younger one is 23) 🥰 Go to Hell, haters.

Random WIP Ask Game

💯 [100] How many words does your WIP currently have? How many words do you hope it'll have when it's done?

⌛️ [Hourglass] How long have you been working on this WIP?

📚 [Books] Is this WIP part of a series or standalone?

🎀 [Bow] How many named characters are in this WIP? How many do get a POV?

💖 [Heart] What is your favorite moment in this WIP?

🎶 [Notes] Do you have any other WIP related things, like moodboards, character portraits, playlists or similar?

📖 [Open Book] What form do you want this WIP to take when it's done? Posted, printed, published, etc?

🐀 [Rat] Name three reasons why this WIP is great at being insert genre here. (You can send a genre, or let the recipient pick one.)

🐁[Mouse] Name three reasons why this WIP is horrible at being insert genre here. (You can send a genre, or let the recipient pick one.)

🔎 [Magnifier] Is there a phrase/word you know you use too often? Will you change it in editing?

🍖 [Meat] How many fictional people were harmed in the making of this WIP?

🌈 [Rainbow] If at the beginning of your WIP the characters knew about the end, would they kill you to stop you from writing it?

‍🎨 [Palette] If your WIP was a color, which color would it be?

🍩 [Donut] What's the weirdest thing someone eats in your WIP? What's the best thing?

🔒 [Lock] Would you let your family, friends, or other people you know in real life read your WIP?

🖋️ [Pen] Describe your WIP in a single, terrible sentence.

❌ [Cross] What would your WIP get cancelled on Twitter for?

#Sylvia und Sybille #SySy #fanfictions #WIP #yes part of the answers is from the first post of this kind (nr. 1 of 3)

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godmadeaterribleerror · 2 days ago

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Where Do You End Pt. 1

Main Masterlist

Read on A03! - Pt. 2

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, light angst, body swap, mentions of smut, humor, horniness, very weird

Summary/Warnings: You and Dean have found yourself in a body swap situation, but your bodies don't seem to be aware of that. They keep trying to do what they always do.

And what they always do isn't really something either of you what the other to know about.

Author's Note: Request from an anon! On god I made it as weird as it could get. I'm proud of me. Also, we're once again looking at multiple parts. Enjoy!

Word Count: 4.5k

This was fucking weird.

Dean knew wasn’t exactly worth saying—it might be the most obvious statement in history—but this was so fucking weird. Weird in a way that made his brain feel a little fuzzy, that made his skin itch because there was no way this was real.

But there was certainly a way this was real.

And it wasn’t Dean’s skin that was itchy.

She had nice skin. It was soft and comfortable to be inside of, the callouses on Her hands felt better placed than the ones on Dean’s, and there were scars that he’d sometimes touch on accident that felt more like art than stains. Her hair felt right whenever he’d brush his fingers through it. Her waist was perfect to hold whenever he’d brace his hands on his hips. And when Dean would reach up to rub his jaw, he’d be slammed with another reminder that this wasn’t his jaw. It was too smooth, at a different angle, and far too good.

This was the jaw he’d dreamt of holding and angling back. Of kissing a soft line across, sucking a small, dark mark on, or nipping at until everyone could see that Dean had been here. That his hand had wrapped around Her neck because she trusted him there, and he’d been holding Her chin up so She could look him in the eyes as they grinned at each other.

She had the prettiest smile. Her lips would curve up at the perfect angle, her eyes would shine like small stars, and every little line on Her face would serve as evidence that She was happy.

Dean hadn’t seen Her smile in a while. Not at him. Not like She used to.

And he certainly wouldn’t see it now. He couldn’t.

All he could see was himself, across the room, rolling on the balls of his feet and sucking on his teeth as he thought.

As She thought.

This was so weird.

“I don’t like this.” She muttered, and Dean frowned. His voice sounded rougher, deeper, and heavier from outside. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it, or how to interpret the small shivers up his spine and over his skin.

“C’mon,” Dean said Her name, in her sweet and musical voice, and he liked how it sounded. He’d always loved how She said her own name, like it was an answer to something or the only lesson Dean would ever need to learn. “Is it really that bad to be stuck in my body-“

“Yes.” She snapped, raising Her chin and glaring down at him, and now his heart was beating faster. “This feels weird, and I don’t like seeing you be me. You’re doing it wrong.”

Dean frowned, and Her hair fell over his eyes. “How the hell am I doing it-“

“You’re sitting wrong. Your legs are too wide, I don’t lean like that, and when I frown it’d not supposed to look like I’m trying to murder someone.”

Dean disagreed with that last one. Shit, for months the only expression he’d gotten from Her was a frown that told him She wanted him dead.

He didn’t blame Her. He wasn’t all too happy with himself either, but it had been the only option. She wanted him. She said She wanted him, and she hadn’t been lying, and that had been the worst thing in the world.

If She hadn’t really wanted him, Dean could’ve offered himself in all his broken, foul glory and She would’ve walked away all by herself. Dean never would’ve needed to worry about losing Her, because he wouldn’t have had Her to begin with. But She’d said Dean Winchester, I want you, and he’d fucking believed Her. He never believed people when they said that.

And him believing Her meant Dean could lose Her. Could truly let Her down and get her hurt.

So he’d said no. He’d lied with practiced ease—through his teeth and with a flat expression—and told Her he didn’t see her like that. That She was his best friend, and he’d just never felt that for Her.

She nodded, and backed off. Smiling less and frowning more and still joking with him but never bumping their feet together under a table or leaning Her head on his shoulder.

It was what he’d wanted. She was safer, and still within Dean’s reach to just see Her, to know she was okay. But he’d never expected to touch Her again. He’d made his peace with the fact that She’d always be just a stretch away, but never his to hold.

And now he could only hold Her. Only rub Her thighs when he was thinking, only touch her face when he tried to brush Her hair away, only feel Her everywhere, every second, until he drove himself mad.

He didn’t know if he wanted to thank the witch that had done this, or kill them again.

Right now he was leaning towards the later, if only because he really didn’t like seeing Her in his body. It wasn’t just weird. It was wrong.

“You’re not exactly acting like me either, sweetheart.” Dean raised his brows, and watched his own face drop into a further glower. “You’re standing too much like a girl.”

She scoffed. “What the fuck does that even mean-“

“You’re too relaxed-“

“Relaxed?”

“Yeah.” He tried to raise his chin, but Her hair fell in his face again. He didn’t know how the hell he was suppose to do anything when he had to keep it out of his face. “And you gotta walk slower. We’re not in a rush-“

“I’m in a rush! I told you, Dean, I don’t like this-“

“I’m not a big fan either!” He snapped. “But what the hell are we suppose to do about it? Every time we’ve tried to tell Sammy he hasn’t heard us-“

She rolled Her eyes. And they were Dean’s eyes, but that was Her eye roll. “That’s the curse, dumbass. We have to break it-“

“I got that, sweetheart, but I’m not seeing how you plan to do that without help-“

“I have you, Dean.” Her voice—his voice—was louder. Firmer. Commanding. It made his gut warm, and his body—Her body—sit a little taller of his own accord. “You’re on research duty, buddy. Let’s go.”

Dean scowled. He hated it when She called him buddy. He wasn’t Her buddy, he was supposed to be Her-

Nothing. Dean was Her nothing, because he’d been so very careful to make and keep it that way.

And that knowledge never stopped him from wanting Her. Wanting Her so bad that, when he’d glance down at her hands, now in his control, he couldn’t stop wondering if he’d ever get to feel them like this again. Rubbing against skin and tracing over the curve of his lips and trailing nails on his legs.

It didn’t really count. That wasn’t Dean’s body that he was feeling. But the touch felt real, and he didn’t really want to let it go yet, not if this was the closest to holding Her he’d ever get. Just a small, torturous reparation for his sacrifice of never really having her, where he got to memorize Her body and keep it in his head forever.

“C’mon,” Dean said Her name, because he wanted a little more time. A longer chance to exist in this purgatory, because he’d never get the chance to fully enter heaven. “You don’t need my help-“

“Yes, I do.” She snapped, grabbing Her jacket from the bed and marching to the door. “Get up. We’re going.”

Dean didn’t want to get up, but Her body didn’t seem to agree with him. He pushed off the bed and gained an unsteady balance, because Her knees were oddly weak. She wasn’t weak—She hunted like an animal and had used this very body to knock Dean flat on his ass—but something was making him lightheaded and dizzy.

He was probably just hungry. They hadn’t eaten since the curse hit.

“If we’re doing this,” he grumbled, shuffling to put on Her shoes. “We’re doing it with food.”

“Deal.” She tried to shrug on Her jacket, froze when it didn’t fit around Dean’s body, and chucked it right at his face. “Wear that. I don’t want you getting me a cold.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but put on the jacket. She was already pissed, and this wasn’t worth fighting about.

“This is so weird,” She mumbled, shaking Dean’s head. “C’mon, Winchester, we’re fixing this-“

“Wait,” Dean frowned, patting his pockets—Her pockets—and scanning around the motel room. “Where are my keys-“

“You mean these keys?”

He turned to see Her holding up the Impala’s keys, a shit-eating grin on Her face.

Dean narrowed his eyes, holding out his hand. “Gimme my keys.”

“No.” She shrugged, Her grin growing. “I think I’m good.”

“I’m not asking, sweetheart-“

“Okay. You take them, they’re yours.”

She walked out of the motel room, and Dean’s eyes widened. There was no fucking way She was driving his car.

“They are mine!” He shouted, sprinting after Her. “Just cause you’re in my damn body-“

Her body was faster than Dean was used to. He almost slammed right into Her back—His back—and an undignified sound left his when Her arms wrapped around his waist, catching him from a fall and holding him right to Her chest.

He’d never realized he was that broad. Or that strong. She was holding Dean like he was paper, and looking at him with shining eyes—he could see the real Her almost glowing in his body—and grinning with Her whole face. Dean’s whole face, with crinkles near his eyes he hadn’t known he had, and stubble on his jaw he’d meant to shave today.

Her hands were rubbing his waist. It was the small, careful circles he always dreamt of leaving on Her hips and arms.

He wasn’t sure She knew she was doing it.

“Uh,” Dean cleared his throat, because She needed to let go now. Her touch was burning on his body, and they hadn’t really touched since the curse hit, so maybe they weren’t allowed to. “Keys.”

She shook Her head. “This is my one chance to drive, Dean-“

“It’s my freakin’ car-“

“And I’m you.” She raised Her brows, still holding him, and the fiery feeling got worse. “I’m driving.”

He should’ve fought more. But Her hand squeezed him lightly, and his whole body grew molten.

She needed to let go of him now.

He tried to grunt Her name, but it just came out breathy and soft. “You crash it-“

“I pay for the repairs.”

Dean scowled, but gave in. Right now She was stronger and taller than he was, and Dean didn’t really want to lose any dignity trying to physically take the keys.

And She didn’t crash it. Dean watched Her drive with careful attention—grumbling about what She was doing wrong until She shot him the deadliest glare he’d ever seen—and She never even came close to crashing. Her hands were big and firm and broad on Baby’s wheel, and Her arms would flex when she shifted the wheel, and there was a set look of determination on Her face that made her jaw look shaper-

That was not Her jaw. That was his jaw. And his arms, and his hands, and he wasn’t sure why the hell his eyes had been wandering over himself like that. He didn’t know why the hell he could feel his heartbeat in his throat and stomach.

He wasn’t in full control. When they parked, his body didn’t want to move until She helped him out of his seat, and Dean didn’t miss the look of confusion on Her face, like she wasn’t entirely certain why She’d done that. It was the same expression she had when She guided him inside, or when She opened the door for him.

Those were things Dean always did for Her. He wasn’t used to a hand on his back, or how nice it felt there. Secure, like a tether that told him he’d be alright. He didn’t understand why his body leaned closer to Her’s as they walked, or why his stomach kept doing little flips when Her eyes would fall from scanning over the diner and land on his.

He felt so unbelievably safe and calm. Hell, he’d never felt like this. Like the sky could fall and it would be fine, because the body across from his in the booth would catch it.

This was a really weird curse.

“You’re going to take notes,” She said, pushing a stack of books across the table that She must have pulled out of her ass. “I’ll look for something online.”

Dean frowned, shaking his head. The fucking hair was in his face again. “Why do I have to do the notes-“

“Because I have better handwriting, and you have my hands.” She handed him a notebook and pencil, and their fingers brushed, sending small sparks of electricity through Dean’s blood. “Tell me if you find something.”

“Nah, sweetheart. I think I’ll have some pie and do the online research-”

Dean had started to push everything back across the table, but he froze at the glare on Her face. It was downright domineering, and did weird things to his brain. He felt fuzzy.

“You’re doing notes.” She grunted, and Dean definitely felt at least a little dizzy. “That’s it.”

His voice was high and almost bratty in his own ears. He didn’t like it. “But-“

“Don’t test me, Winchester. I swear to god I’ll eat a salad.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll take you for a run.”

Dean tensed. “You wouldn’t fuckin’ dare-“

“You wanna bet?”

She’d won the argument again. Those were the arguments Dean was supposed to win. He was supposed to be able to talk his way out of anything with Her. To smirk and wink and tease Her until she broke rank from Sam’s side, and Dean didn’t have to do the stupid parts of the cases anymore. He hadn’t taken notes in years. He hated taking notes, and he wanted to keep pushing until order was restored and She was doing the notes—she usually loved doing the notes—but Her body had other ideas.

His mouth couldn’t figure out how to open and snap at Her. His body was molded and frozen into the seat whenever She’d look at him, and something kept humming in his chest whenever She’d talk. He was taking notes because he couldn’t remember how not to—how to grab the laptop or point at Her with a stern finger—and Dean’s was writing fast and neat, and his hand wasn’t cramping.

His foot kept aching to inch forward and press on Her calf. His fingers kept wanting to reach out and trace Her jaw. Dean wanted to sit on Her lap—he could never say that one aloud—because his body seemed to think it would be comfortable.

This curse was insane. He didn’t need to try and act like Her anymore, because his body—Her body—still seemed to remember how She was supposed to move. He found his hands spinning the pen between Her fingers like he’d seen her do a million times. His legs were crossed on the booth instead of spread under the table. He ordered a burger, but he couldn’t eat it. It was too greasy and heavy, and he already felt a little sick from just one bite.

She’d ordered chicken nuggets, and put Her usual disgusting amount of ketchup on the plate, but barely touched them.

They smelled really good. Dean was starving, his mouth watering as he couldn’t stop staring at them—or Her, in his body, but he didn’t really want to dwell on that—and when She glanced up at him, Her eyes flicked to the burger in front of him.

They traded plates without a word. And Dean had never seen himself eat before, but he finally understood why Sam was always so annoyed with him. She inhaled that thing, chewing loudly and wiping Her mouth with the back of her hand, licking her fingers clean and making disgusting smacking sounds-

The sounds should’ve been disgusting. Instead they settled in Dean’s gut, lighting a small fire he didn’t know how to stop feeding. He couldn’t figure out how to not stare at Her, arms braced on the table and brow furrowed as she read something on the laptop screen.

He had to excuse himself to go get more drinks.

“One beer.” He muttered, then immediately cringed. Beer sounded foul to his mouth. “Actually, make it a milkshake.”

“Hey, darlin’.”

Some poor chick at the bar war probably getting hit on. The lady behind the counter seemed motherly. She’d handle it if it got out of hand, and Dean had bigger problems to deal with anyway. Problems like how if he didn’t have a milkshake right now, he might actually die.

“What flavor, sweetheart?” The server asked, and Dean frowned. Being called sweetheart was weird.

He responded with Her usual order—hopefully that would satisfy his unwelcome craving—and someone off the side cleared the throat.

“You gonna answer me?”

A hand landed on Dean’s arm, and he flinched. It felt clammy and wrong on his body. Like a weight that settled into his bones and sent a creeping, itchy feeling over his skin.

He turned to see a fairly tall, well-built man grinning at him with an almost predatory smile. It made his body go rigid, almost shrinking in on itself.

“Are you, uh,” he frowned. “You talking to me?”

The man laughed. It was too loud, with not warmth, and echoed like a gunshot in his skull. “Course I am, sweetheart. I don’t see any other pretty girls ‘round.”

Oh.

Dean was the poor chick being hit on.

And he hated it. His body hated it. Not only was this man’s touch wrong, his voice was wrong. It slithered over Dean’s gut and chest, making everything in him recoiled and balk, because that was not how he was supposed to be called sweetheart.

“I, um,” he glanced back to the booth, frowning when he realized She was gone. “Listen, dude, I’m not-“

“Dude?” The man laughed. “We can do better than that, baby-“

Dean might have visibly recoiled. He hated baby, only one voice felt like it was supposed to call him baby, even if it never had-

He didn’t know what was happening, or why he was having such a visceral reaction to something that should’ve been passive and boring. Dean knew She got hit on all the time, because she was a fucking knockout, and his usual reaction to it was a possessive anger he had no right to feel. Not disgust, or a weird desire to retreat and hide-

“What’s going on?”

That was Dean’s own voice. And there was a large presence behind him that felt reliable. That his body wanted to lean back into.

When Dean turned, She was right there with narrowed eyes.

He didn’t love how he immediately felt better, and softer, and a little light-headed.

“Hey, man, you gotta wait your turn-“

“My turn?” She snorted. “Walk away from hi- her, buddy, or I’ll kick your ass. I can do that now.”

She puffed Her chest, and—as soon as his brain remembered how to not be static warmth—Dean would have to talk to Her about not abusing his body for unapproved bar fights.

The man scoffed. “Bro, there ain’t no way this is your girl-“

“She is.” Her voice was dry, her face flat. “In more ways than you can imagine. Go.”

Dean was starting to like this curse less. To start, he didn’t appreciate the speed at which the idea of Her being his girl had been dismissed. He also wasn’t a huge fan of how She’d called him his girl, and he’d liked it. She’d been talking about how Dean was in Her body, and she probably didn’t want a random creep trying to get in her pants.

Dean’s body—Her body—loved the sound of Her agreement in his voice. It made him feel tingly.

It didn’t help how She was touching him—holding his arms as She glared at the man over his head—and it kicked the feeling from a soft, warm hum to fireworks. Dean wanted Her hand to meld there and never let go. When the man walked away and She started talking, he never wanted Her to shut up.

“You-“ She swallowed, shaking Her head slightly. “Never mind. I found it.”

Dean blinked at Her. “It?”

“How to tell Sam.

“Oh.” He paused, mostly staring at her as the words sank in, and letting out a long breath of relief escape him when they did. “Awesome.”

She raised Her brows. “You’re pro switching back now?”

“I’ve always been pro switching back-“

“You said it wasn’t that urgent.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I changed my mind, sweetheart. What’d you find.”

She gave him an odd look—Dean couldn’t tell if it was hurt, annoyance, or absolute indifference—but continued. “We have to work around the curse.”

“What the hell does-“

“We can’t tell Sam that I’m you and you’re me. Every time we have the call gets dropped, or something loud has drowned us out, Sam’s literally fucking hangs up-“

“I know,” Dean drawled Her name, giving Her a flat look. “I was there for all of that-“

“Shut up. My point is every time we’ve tried to explicitly tell him, he hasn’t heard us. So what if we just don’t?”

Dean frowned at Her. “Your solution is to just freakin’… give up? Like we’re a kiddie soccer team that lost one to many matches, and we’re gonna quit and cry about it?”

“No, Dean. My goal is to not say it, but let Sam figure it out himself.”

“How-“

“Think of something only you and Sam know about. Something you’d never disclose to anyone else.” A wide, broad grin was stretching over Her face. Dean’s face.

He couldn’t keep living like this.

“We’ve got a few of those kinds of secrets, but I’m not-“

“You don’t have to tell me. You have to tell Sam, in my voice. Just like I’m going to say one of our secrets in your voice.”

It was a smart plan, and it would probably work. Sam knew She and Dean were being so annoying and weird about each other, so they wouldn’t be spilling deep, dark secrets anytime soon. Sam would hear them, and he was smart, so he’d figure them out.

But Dean was mostly stuck on the last part of that sentence.

“You and Sammy have secrets?”

She rolled Her eyes. “We’re friends. Of course we have secrets.”

“About what?”

“It’s not a secret if I tell you.”

She crossed Her arms—Dean’s arms—and he wanted them to wrap around him and keep him warm and safe, maybe choke him a little or carry him around everywhere like he was the only thing She was meant to hold-

Jesus.

“Whatever.” Dean muttered. He needed to get away from Her now. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

She frowned. “Can you hold it?”

“Yeah, but why the hell would I-“

“I don’t want you peeing in my body.”

Dean snorted. “Are you freakin’ serious-“

“Yes! You’ll have to wipe-“

“I know how to wipe, sweetheart. And you’re gonna need to take me to piss eventually-“

Dean could swear She blushed. He blushed. Goddamnit.

“I’d hold it.” She snapped, standing a little taller. “You can go back at the motel, where I can go with you.”

“Why would you need to go with me-“

“I don’t want you touching me there, Dean!” Her voice was a low, hushed shout. “It’s- You don’t get to- I’d need to wipe, and make sure you didn’t look!”

“It’s just a pussy,” he said Her name slowly, and She looked like she was going to kill him.

His horrible body—Her body—wanted to either give in or push harder, until She snapped him in half.

It seemed to like the idea of Her giving him anything at all.

Dean could work with that.

“Dean, I’m fucking serious-“

“So am I! It’s just a body, ” He sneered, and really wished She was taller. It was hard to be firm and authoritative when She was bigger.

When this was over, he’d probably respect Her a little more. She shouted and him and Sammy all the time without ever flinching.

“Look, I get that this is weird as hell, but it’s nothing I haven’t seen before-”

“You haven’t seen it before. It’s my vagina, Dean, and you don’t get to see it now. Hold your piss.”

Suddenly, it clicked. She cared that Dean would be touching Her. If it was Sam, She wouldn’t give a shit.

But Dean had lost the right to touch Her there when he’d decided he could never hold Her.

It had felt like a good idea at the time. Past Dean had understood that She deserved better, and She shouldn’t have to live Her whole life with a target on Her back. Past Dean had known that She’d find better, and he’d be forgotten in a few years, and it was better for his to have another good thing slip through his fingers rather than hold it and break it. Past Dean just wanted Her to be happy and safe, and She’d never be both as long as She was attached to him.

Past Dean had been an idiot. That son of a bitch hadn’t needed to pee this bad, and he hadn’t spent months with Her just in reach.

Dean opened his mouth to say something—not an apology, because he’d make that choice in every life to keep Her safe—but before he could, She was moving. Grabbing the hook of Dean’s arm and pulling him out of the diner.

“That’s my body, Dean.” She snapped. “You’re peeing at the motel.”

Dean grumbled an agreement, and didn’t fight all that hard. He had bigger worries. She was pulling him through the parking lot, and he was letting Her. Shit, he was trying to jog a little to keep up with Her, maybe fall into her side. Just fall into Her. She opened the Impala door and he scowled, but let Her help him inside. Her hand touched his lower back again, and it set off fireworks around his ribs and through his intestines.

He felt weirdly warm and gooey, his skin was tingling again, and when he shifted slightly in his seat he could feet something wet between his legs-

Son of a bitch.

She’d been manhandling him, and he was turned on by it. Her body was turned on by it. She wanted to Dean to jump in his own body and climb it like a tree, and Jesus, that ache between his legs was unbearable, and he wanted his own cock inside off him-

They needed to fix this right fucking now.

End Note: Brace for incoming smut and silliness and angst. Brewing a perfect storm over here.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Taglist

@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery @nightxcreature @sthefferrete @lyarr24

@deansbbyx @bakugotypecrashout @foolinthera1n @globetrotter28 @lordofthunderthr

@youdontknowe @nyrtopia @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @panicking-outside-the-disco @elle14-blog1

@impala67rollingthroughtown @dumb--blonde @itsdearapril @apobangpo-0613 @alwaystiredandconfused

@arcticwisteria @generalmoonpolice @foxyjwls007 @jackles010378 @godhelpthisbtch

@ilovedeanwinchester4 @sleepykittycx @immastealurkneecaps @star-yawnznn @maddie0101

@chi-raz @lori19 @wynnthewynnderful @redwinexsupernova @tiana-kh

@woaheasytig3r @canibeyourghoulfriend @lovelywebber @salemslostwitch @winchester-whiskey

@and-i-wish @jsudsgf

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isuggestforcefem · 1 day ago

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Forcefem February story: Nicole saves Ethan

Part one - Nicole

It began as it usually did. Nicole, a poor helpless orphaned young woman, with a story to make the most stoic of men sob, and such a great excuse for her to join the town. The town's eldest was wary of her. He knew, she thought. Or at least, he suspected something. Nevertheless. That wouldn't stop her. This wasn't her first, anymore. Nicole knew how to handle herself. Keep herself en guarde.

It did make her job less fun, though. She had barely any respite, needed a consistent story and a consistent character, every moment of her waking day. And she couldn't work at night, lest they see the light of her room.

Angela had been very lovely, on this part. The old woman had allowed Nicole to stay in her ex-husband's study, as it hadn't been used in years. Angela had lost him, she would say, on the lonely nights. He had walked out one day, and never came back. Taken by the night, she would say. Nicole wondered if she knew, too. She wondered if the creaks of wood she heard from behind her door were Angela, watching her, spying her.

All that to say it really wasn't a fun time. She yearned for the plan to enter motion. It had already been a month! Usually, she could have had cleared step one in a week, at most, but clearly, Diana's choice of town still lacked. She'd have to talk about it with her, once she was back. Even though Diana was her best friend and most trusted ally at the Academy, she still lacked a lot of technical skills. Maybe that was why the administration still refused her application for solo missions. "I ought to help Diana out", Nicole thought to herself. Her friend was her senior in experience and yet Nicole risked graduating before her.

Nicole approached the mirror. She was still as beautiful as ever. Surely, this face would be enough to sway most hearts. Her hair was undone. She grabbed her hairpin, held a strand of hair, and clipped it onto her hair. Suddenly, a swirl of magic took control of the brunette's hair, assembled it in a neat ponytail. She messed with it a little bit. Better not make it look too neatly woven. She had an image to keep up. She grabbed her dress, Angela had washed it for her. What a treasure of a woman. She almost felt guilty to betray her trust in this way. But then again, she always did. It never stopped her.

Going down the stairs, Nicole yelled "I'm ready!". Angela's brother had asked for a helping hand. It did upset her plans,, but she had to keep up appearances until the end. She could still do it tonight. She would do it tonight. She had faith.

The day seemed to never end. She had been gathering herbs for hours by now, but still Angela's brother showed no sign of going back home. At least the sun was still high. Finally, the man spoke to her. "I think we're done for today, you can go back." "Oh thanks," she said, without a trace of emotion in her voice. Finally, speaking her soul.

This place was boring. The local pub served frankly disappointing alcohols, and was only inhabited by things that were more of the decaying corpse than they were of the person. The town's center was usually occupied by a group of gangsters - guards - that looked at her like she was a piece of meat. Whatever. This would soon be over.

There he was, her target. A boy named Ethan. He had little presence, few friends. Nobody would miss him. Nobody would care.

She would.

He had short black hair, wore a white shirt and brown pants. She had seen boys like him by the dozen, and all of them had became beautiful, happy girls. He would follow.

"Hi," Nicole exclaimed brightly, with a little wave, "I'm here early! -Nicole! Hello, I am glad to see you. -I have a gift for you!" Saying this, Nicole reached for her bag's contents. There was a choice to be made; four rings from which to decide the step to take.

#fff25 #forcefem #cyoa #story #i did it chat I'm sick'nt (mostly)

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azrielbrainrot · 9 hours ago

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Moonlit Shadows - Act II

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Description: When tasked to find the once famed Temple of the Moon Goddess, Azriel only expected to find old forgotten ruins, if anything at all. He could have never imagined that not only would he find a temple but also someone who would change his life forever.

Tropes/Tags: Star Crossed Lovers (in a way), Forbidden Romance, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, some Angst with a Happy Ending

Warnings: hints of angst, tiny bit suggestive, making out?

Word Count: 8,7k

Rating: 18+

Notes: This part was running even longer than the first one so I split it into two parts and my plans for this story to only have 3 parts have changed into 4. I can't help myself in adding little details to this story, I love these two so much. Also just realized how long it has been since the first part, I'm so sorry for how long it took. Hope you enjoy!

Act I

It's almost unbelievable how much life can change within two weeks, to the point Azriel can hardly remember what it was like to live without a mate, without you. This is only the third time he has come to the temple after you agreed to give the bond a try, and he's already eternally glad you did. Sitting on the steps to the temple, watching the sun set over the mountain while his mate told him about her life was now a normal occurrence. He truly couldn't believe his luck.

Not even a month ago, Azriel would have spent the time he had between missions either training himself to exhaustion or simply doing some more spy work behind his High Lord's back. Every family dinner or outing was plagued by his cruel thoughts, always murmuring about his unworthiness while he watched his friends happy and in love, never allowing him a moment of reprieve. But now he got to meet his mate, talk to her for hours and learn her innermost thoughts. By the Mother, he was even contemplating asking Rhys for some time off for the first time in his life so he could see you more often.

“It's impossible to get tired of this view,” you murmur, taking in the barely visible sun rays as the sky turns different shades of pink and orange. As cliché as it sounds, Azriel thought the same thing as he watched you.

He manages to drag his eyes away from your beautiful, peaceful face, studying the view you'd shared with him. You were right, this view could easily rival Velaris at night. Since the temple sat at the top of the mountain, you could see the entire forest from here, and, as beautiful as the sunset had been, he knows the moonlight brings out the true beauty of this place, and yours as well. It's almost unbelievable how you could become even more captivating than you already were, he could hardly take his eyes off you when the moon rays were shining down on you, reflecting on your white hair and adding an even more intense twinkle to your white, silvery eyes.

“How long have you been living here?”

“Almost four hundred years,” you say, nibbling on the biscuits the temple provided at the wave of your hand. He had learned the temple shared a similar spell to the House of Wind and Rhys' cabin. “I was almost thirty when I came.”

The thought of you locked in this temple for that long brings up memories of the dark cell his father kept him in when he was a child, but he tries to shake them away quickly. You were here of your own free will, and as far as he could tell you rather enjoyed living in the temple. This place couldn't be compared to the cell he'd been in any way.

He hopes you didn't catch where his thoughts went, this bond is hard to control most of the time and feelings often filter through unattended. It's because of the feelings the bond brings up that he often finds himself thinking of those moments he has been trying to forget for centuries as well. It almost feels like the bond is prying open everything he has kept locked away, wanting to lay him bare before his mate.

Still, it was hard to believe that you would be completely satisfied living hidden away, no matter how shiny your cage or how fulfilling your role in the temple was. He enjoys his quiet time a lot more than the average person, something even his family doesn't understand at times, but he can't imagine what it's like to live alone for centuries, with no one's company but your own. Azriel couldn't have survived with only his thoughts as company, not when his mind is such an ugly place, even his duty wouldn't keep him alive then.

You smile up at him before he has the chance to put his worries into the right words. “I know what you're thinking. It gets lonely up here, I can't deny that, and I know I've missed a lot of experiences over the course of my life, some that I might never get the chance to relive, but I've always been happy up here.”

“Do you have any family left? Friends?”

“No. Any friends I had before coming here have probably long forgotten about me, some might not even be alive anymore,” you look at him then, hesitation making itself known in your tone and mannerisms. He might have overstepped without meaning to.

“My parents passed away a few decades ago. They came to visit me as much as they could, and we'd send each other letters every few weeks. They came by to spend every Solstice and birthday with me.” You let out a small laugh, “Once they had a little fight and my mom just showed up here with a bag full of clothes and a couple boxes of cupcakes.” You look down at your hands, a lump forming in your throat, “They're the ones I miss the most.”

“I'm sorry.”

There was a tight feeling coiling around his chest, but he can't quite pinpoint if it was his own response to you being sad or if your feelings were bleeding into his own. All he knew is that he wanted to put a smile back on your face.

“It's okay. They were both close to a millennia old and lived their life to the fullest. I would have liked to be with them in their final moments, but it wouldn't have changed anything.”

“Is it really impossible for you to leave? Even at times like those?”

You clear your throat, trying to get rid of the emotion talking about your parents' deaths evoked. “Yes, being bound to the temple is part of the oath I made. I'm not entirely sure what would happen if I actually managed to break the wards, but I would lose my powers and wouldn't be able to come back at the very least.”

The emphasis you put into the final words told him you thought more would happen. Breaking an oath with a God could very well be fatal, since even a regular bargain made between fae can take someone's life if not fulfilled. He feels a string tightening around his heart as it usually does when he's reminded of your predicament. You will never leave this temple, and, as much as he wants to respect your wishes, he can't help but mourn what your life could have been, what the two of you could have been. There's so much he wishes he could show you, beautiful places he wants to take you to, and people he wishes you could meet.

“There were times when it was hard to be stuck here.” Your voice breaks him out of his thoughts, finding you've turned around, sitting cross-legged as you face him. “Obviously it was hard when my parents died, though the Goddess allowed their ashes to be brought to me so I could scatter them on this mountain,” your eyes travel to his wings, lingering on a few scars that will never leave the leathery skin, “I think it was even harder to bear when Amarantha came into Prythian and imprisoned the High Lords, and then when the war with Hybern broke out.”

You let silence fall between you for a few moments, eyes falling down onto your hands, kneading your left palm with your thumb as the first rays of moonlight made the aura around you more noticeable, a faint white light glowing around your entire body. He hopes it's not sacrilegious to think so, but you truly looked like a Goddess in this moment. His eyes fall onto your hands as well, debating on reaching to hold them in his warm ones when you resume your explanation.

“This power the Goddess shared with me has made me very strong, enough so that She leaves the protection of the temple entirely to me, but the biggest downside is that I can't help outside these wards,” you look up into his eyes then, regret lacing into your words, “I could have helped you. If the oath that gave me these powers didn't include staying in this temple, I could have tried to placate Amarantha before she could take everyone Under the Mountain, or at the very least fight alongside you during the war. A lot of people wouldn't have lost their lives if I could have helped.”

He understands what you mean, he has fought even while injured multiple times, during this war even, not willing to stop when he knows he can help even if it cost him his life, so he knows that watching from afar knowing you could have made a difference had to have been extremely frustrating, but he also can't help but feel selfishly glad you weren't there. The war had been bloody and cruel, if he could he would shield you from that sight if it was the last thing he did.

“You said it was Fate that decided you were supposed to live in this temple and protect it, right?” You nod, confusion written on your face. “Then it wasn't your place to be in the war. The temple was written into your life, and the war was written into ours. There's nothing we can do to change our fate.”

He seems to have said the right thing as you watch his face, the pained expression you previously wore slowly being replaced with a happier one, a smile even making its way into your lips, not quite as bright as before but a good start nonetheless.

“I still wish I could have gone,” you say, a twinkle in your eye, “maybe then you would have been written into my life sooner.”

Azriel had never found himself blushing as often as he does when he's around you in the five hundred years he's been alive. The worst part is it seems like you're not doing it on purpose. You keep complimenting him, showing him how much you enjoy having him in your life effortlessly, as if it's simply in your nature. Still, he can clearly see how much you enjoy the fact that you can bring him to this state so easily, a proud expression obvious on your face as you watch color take over the tips of his ears. Luckily for him, it's extremely easy to turn you into a bashful mess as well.

He shifts his weight onto his palm, leaning closer to you, a swift and fast movement, that of a trained soldier. Your sweet, intoxicating scent assaults him instantly, images of how he would let it intertwine with his own invading his mind for a treacherous moment - the mating bond seldom lets him have a moment of peace. Your breath hitches under his attention, wide eyes locked onto his.

“We've been written into each other's lives from the moment we were born, before our world was created even.” Your eyes travel down to his lips for a beat, the movement was quick enough that he might have mistaken it if it weren't for your proximity. It brings a satisfied smile to his lips as he adds, “whether at the temple or on that battlefield I would have found my way to you. That I can promise you.”

The reaction you give him is nothing short of delicious. Mouth slightly agape as you struggle to maintain eye contact at his confession, the wild rhythm of your heartbeat ringing in his ears and down the bond. He decides to push his luck a bit and test the waters, leaning even closer, enough so that your warm breath meets his skin, eyes dropping to your lips before stealing a cookie from the plate that sat beside you, straightening up as he brings it to his mouth, giving you space once more. He can't help the smile from growing when he hears your intake of breath, eyes dropping to your lap and hands smoothing down your skirt as you try to regain composure.

On one hand, he almost feels bad for teasing you like this, knowing there's a big difference in how you have both led your lives up to this point, even if you're relatively close in age. He would also hate to make you feel actually uncomfortable in any way. But, on the other hand, he wants nothing more than to whisper the most depraved things he wants to do to you so he can watch desire take over your face, so he can erase any semblance of innocence away. Although knowing exactly how experienced or not you are will end up being pertinent information if you both choose to keep chasing this bond, Azriel decides to take mercy on you tonight and change the subject.

“What was your life like before coming here?”

Looking up at him with tinted cheeks and wide eyes, you blink a few times, taking you a moment to answer, probably not expecting him to ask you a question so soon or too lost in your thoughts - he briefly wonders if they're any similar to his. Azriel can almost feel the bond purring, that ancient, inexplicable tether delighted at both your reaction and his playfulness, at your closeness.

“I'd say I used to live a pretty normal life,” you start, focusing on his shadows as they played over the steps, still too embarrassed to keep his gaze, “I used to live in a fairly small town, one of those where everyone knows each other and nothing too exciting ever happens,” a nostalgic smile takes over your lips, remembering your childhood. Azriel wishes he could take you back there, have you show him around the place where you grew up.

“My parents owned a small bakery so I helped them around before coming here. I liked baking with them, I wasn't too bad at it either, though the early schedule wasn't my favorite, I always liked sleeping in.” You seem lost in thought for a moment before shrugging and continuing, “Outside of that I had a few friends and a couple of lovers… nothing special.”

Azriel tries to ignore the sick twist of jealousy he feels at the mention of past lovers, knowing it's completely unfair to you, and irrelevant to your relationship now, but that damned bond doesn't know the first thing about rationality. Rhysand wasn't kidding when he said the mating bond grates, at times it was almost suffocating.

“One of the things I miss the most from those times are my parents' pastries,” you pout slightly, a playful glint in your eyes, “I may be biased but they were delicious.”

“It might not be the same, but I can bring you some from Velaris,” he offers. “The bakeries in town are always putting out new delicious things. I'm sure you would love them.”

“I'd like that very much, Azriel,” you say, that blinding smile he loves so much returning to your lips, a smile of his own mirroring yours. His name sounds like heaven, hell, and everything in between falling from your lips.

“Next time I'll bring you some of my favorites,” he pauses, a thought occurring to him as he tilts his head, “Actually, I don't have too much of a sweet tooth so I'll bring you Cassian's favorites instead. I think you would much prefer the chocolate covered cakes he likes to eat than my lemon tarts.”

“It's a deal then,” you nod at him, extending your hand for him to take, Azriel doesn't resist even for a second, letting you shake his hand as if you were in fact making a business transaction. “And if you come empty-handed I might put in a word with the Goddess and not let you in.” He lets out a chuckle, squeezing your hand before reluctantly letting go, missing the warmth of your palm against his immediately. To think there would come a day where he would actually want someone to keep holding his hand.

“You can bring some of your lemon tarts too, I want to try what you like first,” you tilt your head, “but you're right, my favorite is always chocolate.”

Azriel chuckles, “Both it is.”

The rest of your time together is spent much like this, talking for hours about any and everything. By the time he forces himself to tell you he needs to go back to Velaris, the moon was already ready to make its way for the sun once more, and your eyelids were significantly heavier, trying your hardest to ignore your fatigue in favor of staying with him for as long as possible.

He never knows what to do or say when it's time to say goodbye to you. It's abundantly clear that neither of you want him to leave. There's also always a part of him that fears he won't be able to come back, that for whatever reason the Goddess decides he's not in need of the temple anymore and the wards keep him out of your reach.

Aside from that, your relationship has been walking the line between platonic and romantic from the first day. You wanted to keep your heart and his as safe as possible given the entire situation. He couldn't fault you for that, but that meant you were stuck acting like friends, as if a mating bond wasn't connecting your bodies and souls, and because of it Azriel couldn't grab your cheeks and kiss you like he's been desperately dreaming of, even though your eyes find themselves entranced by his lips as often as the other way around.

As he gets lost in thought, wondering how your lips would taste, your eyes drop to his shadows, unaware of it all. Dark wisps moving from his own natural shadow cast by the moonlight to yours, some of the bravest, more disobedient ones even swirling up to your ankles tentatively. At least they were still being respectful.

“They like me,” you smile brightly down at them.

Like is not a strong enough word to describe his shadows' feelings when it comes to you. At times it's even hard to make them focus on their job as they sit and wonder what you're up to in the temple. Part of this might be his fault since he has always used them to spy on anyone he needed to, and now he's finding it hard to explain to these beings, who struggle with social cues as it is, that spying is a breach of privacy, something he only does because it's his job, and the last thing he would ever do to you, so they can't go and check on you simply because he misses you every second of the day.

Apart from that they've also taken to giving him romantic advice - which has been disturbing to say the least, - whispering words into his ear that they think you would like to hear, trying to guide him to the flowers or pastries they somehow know you prefer as he passes by the market street, even pushing him to sing to you. They go as far as trying to convey their own feelings to you through him, whispering praises in his ear, and in turn making the bond inside him wish he could send his own shadows on a trip to the bottom of the ocean never to return.

“Yes, I think they do,” he says defeatedly as he watches one of his impertinent shadows travel up to your hand, swirling around it as you bring it up closer to your face for inspection. He can't wait to hear how delighted it is of gaining your attention.

“Shouldn't they hide from the light?”

Azriel takes a step closer, holding your hand and ordering the shadows to cross over to his body so he can have this moment with you. Raising his hand up to your cheek, scarred thumb caressing your soft skin as he murmurs, “Not from yours.”

The irony of his mate being someone who quite literally glowed in the dark wasn't lost on him. For some reason, the fact only further proved you were made for each other in his mind. It's almost like the Mother was telling him that no matter how dark his soul was, it would never diminish your light as it glowed ever eternal alongside your Goddess.

“I really have to go now.”

It pains him to say it, but he's already going to be late and that'll raise questions he's been trying very hard to avoid. It was enough of a miracle that Rhys hadn't told anyone - outside of Feyre of course - that Azriel had found his mate, and he would like to keep it that way for as long as possible. They would ask him too many questions he wouldn't know how to answer, and, admittedly, he also wants to avoid the teasing comments while the bond is so fresh - nothing good can come out of giving Cassian and Nesta a way to make him blush with only a couple of words.

“Alright,” you smile up at him, but it doesn't reach your eyes. Every time he has to leave you behind, he considers giving up everything and moving to this temple with you.

You raise on your tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek, his eyes closing as a shudder runs through him, wings coiling tighter into his back. His other hand comes up to the other side of your face, his lips falling upon your forehead as a wave of satisfaction rushes his side of the bond. Both of your hearts beating wildly as he steps away slowly and starts walking closer to the edge of the stairs.

“I'll come back as soon as possible,” he promises one more time before taking flight.

“I know, Azriel. I'll be waiting.”

⭒.˚ ☾⭒.˚

The unmistakable feeling of someone passing through the barrier rushes over you, sending your heart racing immediately. For a moment you think it's Azriel coming by unannounced, a smile breaking out on your lips as you get up to your feet, but a quick look into the bond that lays dormant inside you is enough to tell you he's still in Velaris, far away from the temple.

Your smile drops and a wave of sadness washes over you, freezing you in place, heart dropping at the reminder of the distance that lays between you and your mate, of the days you'll still have to endure alone before his next visit.

You feel movement again, now closer to the top steps, and shake yourself out of unwanted thoughts, pushing them all to the back of your mind as you shake any stray cookie crumbs from your trousers. If it isn't Azriel coming to see you then it's definitely someone coming to visit the temple, and you have a duty to fulfill.

It's only been a few weeks since Azriel first came looking for the temple, you've never had visitors showing up so close together. They're usually few and far in between, leaving you on your own atop the mountain for years at a time as the rumors about the temple die off among most of the population. The prospect of seeing someone again so soon has excitement rushing through your veins, completely overshadowing the solemn feelings from before.

You walk to the mirror, quickly checking your appearance before winnowing straight to the top of the stairs, catching your new visitor by surprise as she walks towards the temple slowly. The gasp she lets out when she spots you waiting for her brings a bigger smile to your lips, making you almost giddy as you cross your hands behind your back.

“Welcome to the Temple of the Moon. I'm the keeper and sole habitant of this temple and I've been tasked to keep it safe from any possible threats as well as helping anyone the Goddess deems worthy of being shown the way, just like you have.”

The well rehearsed speech comes to you naturally, the words flowing effortlessly from your mouth as you take in your visitor's wonder, curious eyes taking in the beautiful place. Of course she didn't have any speech rehearsed but it might as well have been since her next words mirror everyone else's when they arrive.

“I never knew there was a temple here,” the awe in her face brings you the usual sense of pride.

“It's a bit of a secret,” you wink at her, walking closer to the temple, motioning with your hand for her to follow you.

“My grandmother used to say these mountains were the most beautiful place in Prythian so I wanted to spread her ashes here, but I always thought she meant the actual mountains,” she muses. “This place is breathtaking.”

“The temple is hidden behind a powerful spell. I'm afraid when talking about this day your memories will be somewhat limited,” you explain softly as you lead her to the gardens in the back, the perfect view for her grandmother's final resting place.

As you go through the usual explanation, you realize you truly skipped most of it when it came to Azriel's first visit, though you still think you did better than expected given the circumstances. It's easy to forget your own name or any rehearsed speeches when you find yourself face to face with your mate.

The rest of the visit goes by fairly quickly. You lead her to the gardens and let her choose the perfect place among the flowers and trees, helping her spread the ashes as instructed, saying a quick prayer and then allowing her a moment to grieve, standing off to the side while still keeping a watchful eye over everything.

You can't help but let your eyes wander to the spot where you had spread your parents' ashes, the tears lining the young fae's eyes reminding you of the countless ones you had spilled as you went through the same. Over the years you've grown somewhat accustomed to their absence, - never fully, you've long since accepted that would be impossible, - but recent events have made you bitterly aware of it.

You wished you could tell your parents you had found your mate, would give anything to feel the anxiety of introducing them to Azriel. Now you can only imagine nervously writing them a letter, telling them all about the charming fae the Mother had chosen for you. They would show up at the temple the next day, not even the Goddess would be able to keep your mother from meeting her daughter's fated mate. Gods, they would have loved him.

A weak sigh escapes you. Nothing could take away the pain of losing a loved one, but you hope that the thought that her grandmother now lies within the temple's walls will lessen her grief even if just for a moment.

It's time to accompany her back to the stairs in no time, her tearful thanks and goodbyes echoing over the entrance hall. Watching the young fae descend the steps brings you a sense of accomplishment as usual, but this time there's an annoyingly acute emptiness growing inside you, tainting it.

Most visitors don't linger in the temple, only getting what they came for before going on their way, before going back to their busy lives, but as you watch her disappear between the trees, you're left wishing she would have stayed longer, sat with you and talked for a moment.

It wouldn't be fair not to acknowledge that this feeling had always manifested inside you after every visit you've received over the centuries, especially back when your parents were the ones stopping by and leaving you with hesitant glances over their shoulders, but you know that it had only grown more noticeable after Azriel first arrived.

Becoming familiar with someone's presence once again had made you more aware of your situation, more aware of just how many words and thoughts you had been keeping to yourself in your years of seclusion. It reminded you of how alone you truly were up in this temple. Before, the silence had been part of your routine, something you had no problem falling back onto after the rare visitor came and disturbed it. Now it felt like a consistently harder task, the silence ringing too loud in your ears, making you too aware of the echo that followed your footsteps.

Sitting down on the first step, you let out a sigh from deep in your chest, stretching your legs out, only noticing then that you had not changed out of your slippers in your rush earlier. It's a shame, you only really wear your nicer shoes when you have guests, which even with Azriel's more regular visits doesn't happen nearly often enough.

You feel yet another stab through your heart when you realize your first instinct is wanting to share the news with your mate, tell him about your visitor and your silly mistake, tell him how it reminded you of your parents and maybe even confide in him how lonely it all had made you feel.

You've been alone for so long that you had forgotten what wanting to share every exciting thing that happens with someone felt like. What is quickly becoming a familiar ache settles over you at the cold reminder that Azriel isn't within your reach. You'll have to wait until he visits again to share these news with him and see the smile on his face.

It's been over a week since he last came by, which wouldn't be much time at all if he weren't your mate and you couldn't feel him through the bond, so close but so far away. He warned you he would be busy with an assignment, even promised he would make it up to you when he was finished with it, but you can't rationalize how much you miss him or how much you wish he was by your side, and so you keep sitting on those steps well into the night, waiting for someone who isn't coming.

⭒.˚ ☾⭒.˚

With delectable excitement running through his veins, the kind that only you could bring out of him, Azriel takes one last look in the mirror, fixing his shirt and running his fingers through his hair, making sure everything looks perfect and in place before entrusting yet another box of pastries to his shadows. He has been on the hunt for the best chocolate cookies in Velaris ever since you told him they were your favorite, but he also can't stop himself from trying to spoil you in any way he can.

It's been over a week since he last saw you, and Azriel has been counting down the days for your next meeting ever since he left your side. He couldn't help but feel uncharacteristically annoyed whenever he remembered the mission that ended up keeping him away from home, and in turn from you, for several days. Deep down he knew Rhys had actually been giving him more free time to go visit you than he usually would have in other circumstances, even covering for him when he disappeared for hours on end so the others didn't find it too suspicious. Unfortunately, the bond often spoke louder, and with it came a moodiness that Azriel only felt lifting up earlier today, when he started getting ready to see you.

He makes his way downstairs, already worrying about how the flight will mess up the hair he had just been combing through so carefully. If it weren't for the wards surrounding the House of Wind, he would have winnowed straight to the temple.

“You took a bath.”

A voice coming from the sitting room calls after him, effectively stopping him in his tracks, shadows crawling up his tense body. He curses himself, some spymaster he was, so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't even notice he had company nor the forethought to avoid it. It seems he won't be able to leave without anyone noticing after all.

Azriel hesitates for a moment, unwilling to linger and lose even a second of precious time with his mate. Leaving would only make him appear more suspicious though, so he takes a couple steps into the room instead, finding the oldest and the youngest Archeron sisters looking back at him with amusement written in their eyes.

“I bathe.”

“You don't usually use any of the smelling washes.” Nesta's tone sounds nothing short of accusatory, glancing at Feyre while she talks as if trying to prove a point. “Not since recently at least.”

Azriel was never one to overthink about his appearance, perfectly content with keeping things simple, so it really doesn't come as a surprise that his best friend would notice his newly found appreciation for it. He had also not only accepted a few of Mor's invites to go shopping but also started using the clothes, fragrances and even accessories her and Rhys had gifted him over the years - something that unfortunately the High Lord had picked up on too and teased him relentlessly for whenever they were alone.

And, even in his recent distracted state, he would have to be a fool not to notice Nesta's curiosity towards his whereabouts and sudden mood changes. She has even been asking him about his missions, feigning interest in his spymaster duties just so she can catch him in a lie, knowing he would never dress like this to go spy on their enemies.

“Are you suggesting I smell, Nesta?”

“No, you smell amazing,” she clarifies quickly, sounding so sincere that he feels the corner of his mouth twitch up. Now he almost wishes Cassian was here.

“Then what's the problem?”

Knowing Feyre as well he does, it's extremely commendable that she's managing to keep quiet through this whole conversation, even more so that she hasn't said anything when Nesta surely came asking her what she knew. It also sends a certain warmth through him that she's going against her instincts to keep his secret - even though she and Rhysand have probably been gossiping about him every chance they get.

“There's no problem. I'm simply curious,” she says, clearing her throat before adding with a wicked glint in her eye, “you can't tell me you used your best smelling cologne to go on a mission.”

“I didn't say I was going on a mission,” he says, humoring her for a bit.

As amusing as this unexpected back and forth was turning out to be, it was, at the same time, stealing some of the precious time he had with you. He should have already made it out of Velaris, over the mountains where he would winnow straight to you.

“Then where are you going, if you don't mind me asking?”

“I'm going to have dinner with my mother,” Azriel offers, tone not wavering around the lie even for a moment.

“Oh.”

He feels a little bad for lying, especially since he's using his mother of all people as an excuse, but he knows that if he explained the situation to her she wouldn't mind at all. In fact, this reminded him to make some time to visit his mom, not only had it been quite a while since he last went, but he also wanted to tell her all about you.

Hiding the truth from Nesta and the rest of his family wasn't something he was content with either. Azriel knows they would all be overjoyed with the fact that he had found his Mother blessed mate, but he wanted to make sense of the situation before telling them. As things stand you're simply his friend, even with the shimmering bond between you, and you're still up in your temple, far away from everyone. He wouldn't even be able to properly explain the situation or his feelings on it, Gods know he tries whenever Rhys asks. He probably wouldn't even be able to take them to meet you.

Talking to his mother was always easier though. She never expected answers or explanations, she truly only wanted him to be happy. He can imagine the load off her shoulders it would be to find out her son had found a mate. Yes, he needs to make time to tell her, if no one else.

“I hope you have a lovely dinner, Az,” Feyre says, hiding a knowing smile behind her teacup, apparently not helping herself in at least getting a word in.

“Yes, I hope it all goes well,” Nesta adds, recovering rather quickly, the glint returning to her eyes as she likely reminds herself that one dinner with his mother doesn't explain all his strange recent behavior. Maybe he could still make a spy out of her, she's definitely determined.

Azriel simply nods and bids them a quick goodbye, doing his best to walk at a normal place to the front door, a relieved sigh escaping him when he shoots up into the air, passing the wards keeping the House of Wind safe, feeling himself get engulfed by his shadows as they take him closer to you.

⭒.˚ ☾⭒.˚

“When you first showed up I thought you weren't a good flier,” you reminisce, leaning back further into the cushions propped at your back, a smile playing at your lips. “Or that maybe you were still young.”

Azriel's gaze darts around the library at your words, a breath escaping him before his beautiful hazel eyes meet yours once again. Biting your lip, you try to stop your smile from growing as you watch a flush traveling across his skin, crawling up his delectable neck until his rounded ears become tinted with a pinkish color.

“My wings froze in place,” he admits with a soft smile of his own. “It's a miracle I landed on my feet at all.”

A giggle escapes you then, followed by a breathy chuckle from him, remembering the way his knees had buckled under his weight, how your own felt equally as weak in the face of the all-consuming mating bond. The sound echoes around the library for a moment, carrying around the bookshelves and artifacts laying about, a delighted sound that these walls have not been privy to too often, so used to the silence as they were, as you were.

This was the first time you've brought him into the library since his first visit and the initial tour of the temple you had given him. You usually stay outside whenever Azriel comes to visit, either sitting by the steps watching the moon and the stars, or in the garden, on a bench by the flowers; under a tree, taking advantage of the soft grass that grows here with the Goddess' blessing. But as time passes and his visits become more frequent, you suddenly felt the urge to show him different parts of the temple, to have these little dates - if you could even call them that - in different places to make up for the fact that you couldn't leave the temple's grounds. The light rain that fell today, signaling the end of summer, had been the perfect opportunity.

What you didn't expect was for it to feel so much more intimate. It shouldn't have come as a surprise honestly, this is your house after all and even if he had been here multiple times he had never really lingered inside so now bringing him to the room you spend most of your days in feels different, it made your heart beat faster as soon as he walked in, the bond screaming in elation when he sat in the sofa you're curled in almost every day, taking his place by your side. You don't think you'll ever be able to sit here without this image popping up into your mind.

“I think you did good under the circumstances,” you offer, hand twitching at your side, wanting to reach out and touch the flush covering his cheek, reaching for another cookie instead to keep your treacherous fingers occupied.

Azriel had made good on his promise to bring you every pastry and sweet from Velaris, never arriving at the temple without carrying something delicious within his shadows. Today he brought you various cookies of different shapes, sizes and flavors. They were all delicious, their rich taste blooming in your mouth when you bit into them, but it seems he overestimates just how much you can eat, especially since he barely helps you at all - you swear you've only seen him eat one singular cookie since you opened this box.

“It sounds like you're just saying that to make me feel better.” You shake your head in denial, you really weren't, but he continues before you can say anything else. “Us Illyrians take a lot of pride in our flying abilities, you know? I'm not sure I can let this go so easily.” The teasing smile that blooms on his face is completely mesmerizing, it almost makes you forget yourself. “You'll have to let me show you.”

It takes you a moment too long to process his words, your silver eyes too caught up on his inviting lips to pay any attention to what he said. You'd like to blame these moments where your thoughts stray when you look at Azriel on the bond, but you're not so sure it was all its doing. If he notices he doesn't let it show, allowing you to meet his eyes again like nothing had happened.

“You want to take me flying?”

“If you let me,” he murmurs softly. The excitement written in his eyes was contagious, and if you didn't know any better you'd say he had been waiting on a chance to ask you.

You'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought of the possibility ever since you first laid eyes on Azriel. You had never seen a winged fae before so flying always seemed like a childish dream, but now you couldn't help feeling a hint of wistfulness every time you saw him land swiftly on top of the steps. Who wouldn't want to fly? The thought of the wind caressing your skin as you cut through the clouds sounded heavenly, not to mention Azriel's arms wrapped around you as he held you against him. The thought summons warmth to your chest, and lower.

“I'd like that,” you say, “but I'm not sure if it will work because of my oath. We would not be able to go far.”

“Around the temple should be fine, right?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“It's a promise then,” he smiles brightly down at you. “Next time I'll take you flying. I would take you right now but it's still raining.”

“Do you know when the next time will be?”

The words escape you before your brain catches up to them. The way his smile falters, and some of his shadows rush to him from where they had been lazily swirling around the library makes you want to take them back immediately. You know they do that when he's upset or sad, something you rarely see when he comes to the temple. The thought that you were the one to make him so makes you want to rip out your heart and beg for his forgiveness.

“I'm only curious. I didn't mean anything by it,” you rush to explain, the last thing you wanted was for him to think you blamed him, or expected more of him. Azriel had been nothing short of perfect and understanding given your limitations.

“I would come every day if I could.”

“I know, Azriel.” You can hear the longing in his voice, filtering in through the bond as well, even if he tries to hide it. “I would go to you if I could too.”

Thankfully this brings the smile back to his lips, even if still somewhat overshadowed by the reality of your relationship. You've noticed Azriel has a hard time believing he's wanted, and you probably only make it worse since you have not accepted the bond.

“I'm not sure when the next time will be. I should be free in a couple of days, but if Rhys and Feyre need me in the meantime it might be longer, and I don't want to keep your hopes up if I might not be able to show up after all,” he explains as he reaches out for your hand tentatively, holding it delicately in his as his thumb starts drawing circles over your open palm, sending a tingling feeling shooting up your arm and straight to your chest. Shouldn't you be the one comforting him?

“I'll be here waiting either way, Azriel. I don't want you to neglect your work because of me,” you say, squeezing his hand, holding it tighter in yours.

“I'm not. There's no immediate threats on the court so things have been relatively calm, and I think I've earned some time off for all the years I worked without it.” The two of you were similar in a lot of ways, how focused you could be on your work and loyal to your duty was one of them. “Rhys has been easier on me too,” he adds.

“Does he know?”

“Since the first night,” Azriel nods, “I tried to hide it but he saw right through me. I haven't told anyone else though.”

You frown softly as his words settle between you, biting your lip softly and hopefully hiding it before he notices. You didn't know how to feel about Azriel having to hide you from his family, having to sneak around whenever he visits you. The way your chest constricted as soon as the words left his mouth told you what the bond felt immediately though. Your eyes drop to your still intertwined hands, the sight making your heart flutter despite your inner turmoil.

A mating bond was an extremely rare and beautiful thing, something you would be proud to tell your friends and family all about, the whole world even, but you can't blame him for not telling them anything when there's no guarantee this will work, when you made it clear from the first day that you didn't think it would work. All he had to do was explain the situation for the expected congratulations and joyous smiles to turn into pity and sympathetic words instead.

“I'm sorry.”

Now it was Azriel's turn to frown, leaning closer to you and squeezing your hand, trying to meet your eyes as you focused on his hand, on the shimmering silver string that kept you eternally bound to each other.

“What are you sorry for?”

“It's my fault you have to hide it.”

“Of course not-”

You cut him off with a shake of your head, tugging on his hand. You were tired of him making excuses for you, of acting like nothing was wrong. If his mate were anyone else, he would have probably at least started dating them regularly by now, might have even already accepted the bond.

“I need you to know,” you look up at him, forcing yourself to keep eye contact with every word even when it becomes too much to bear, “if it weren't for the oath I made and if I could leave the temple, if we could live a normal life, I would accept the bond in a heartbeat.”

You can't quite read the expression that falls over his face, and your nerves are making it impossible to keep a cool head. As the silence stretches on, his hand frozen in yours and his hazel eyes staring right into your soul with unwavering intensity, your heart starts beating extremely loud, pouding at your eardrums as the thought that you said the wrong thing invades your mind.

“Azriel-”

“Can I kiss you?”

“What?”

“Please,” he breathes out, a desperately needy sound coming from deep in his chest. Scarred hands come up to hold your cheeks as he leans down, touching his forehead to yours, hazel eyes closing. “I really want to kiss you.”

You're unsure why he thought you could ever deny him such a request. Leaning in the rest of the way, your lips find his in a soft kiss before you lose your courage. It had been entirely too long since you've felt someone's lips on yours and the fact that it was Azriel, your mate, only made the fire starting inside you burn brighter.

A moan crawls up your throat before you even have a chance to think to keep it down. Azriel swallows it gladly, offering you a deep, satisfied groan of his own as the kiss turns more desperate. All the want you've both tried to keep locked away rising up uninterrupted as teeth and tongues clash, your hands tugging at his soft hair while his fall to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

You have no idea how long you're tangled up in each other, the world falling silent while his hands roam your body, but by the time your mind finally clears and you manage to get a grasp on your instincts and on the bond, you find yourself straddling his lap, your dress pushed up to your hips and his shirt half unbuttoned.

Your entire body was glued to him. You could feel every breath he took, the low purring in his chest rumbling against yours, and the evidence of just how much he wanted you pressing against your core. It's as if you had been trying to crawl under his skin, maybe you were, it's not like that would be enough.

Even as you pull apart, chests rising and falling together as you catch your breaths, you don't move away from him, your eyes still closed as you keep your foreheads pressed together. You think it might be impossible to, just the thought makes you want to chain yourself to him, the bond making it difficult to even think at how adamant it is on you keeping your mate as close as possible.

Azriel seems to be of the same mind as he lets out a soft groan, strong arms tightening around you, the sweet pressure pushing an embarrassingly needy and breathy moan past your lips. He leans into your neck, a shiver running through his body as he takes in your scent, the way it deepened with arousal and mixes in with his sending his mind into a frenzy the same way it does yours. If anyone were to walk into this room, they wouldn't be able to tell them apart at all, there wouldn't be any doubts that you were his.

You feel him drop an otherwise chaste kiss to the overheated and sensitive skin of your neck, the way his body tenses at the harsh breath you take in telling you he wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into it instead. With how out of practice and needy you are at this moment, you think you'd come undone on his lap if he did, the thought sobering you somewhat.

Calling his name softly, surprised by how breathy and undeniably affected your own voice is, you wait for him to gather his own thoughts, abandoning your neck reluctantly, his half-lidded and blown out hazel eyes meeting yours. You know mating bonds are a lot harder to manage for the males so you can't even imagine what is going through his mind, how hard he has to hold himself back from claiming you as his own when you're soaked and pliable on top of him.

Even though you were the one who called his name, you find yourself at a loss for words in the face of his desire. You don't want to tell him to stop and you don't want to move away from him, but you have to, you both know that. And so you kiss him again instead, softly, apologetically.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fic #azriel fluff #my writing

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itsabouttimex2 · 1 day ago

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Not a request, just blabbering about the “not the beloved au” because. God. Poor MK. Obviously, y/n is the one suffering the most from the dynamic, but MK’s development is being stunted by the way the two kings are raising him. Never being told no, having everything and everyone live their life to accommodate around him- sure he’s still a toddler, they’re going to be stupid, but he’s resorting to hurting himself when he doesn’t get what he wants (ie Y/N, a whole person!) that is very troubling behavior.

I’d hate to see how he’d be grown up- he’d definitely still be a hero- he IS a good kid, he’d want to help people- but what happens if he’s not able to beat someone in a fight immediately or he’s outmatched? How much of him fighting would just make things worse because he’s used to the world bending over backwards to make him happy?

Poor kid.

Not The Beloved

Anon, I'm so glad you brought this up, because on surface level, NTB!MK is a little entitled menace. But when you take a moment to scratch past that unfortunate facade, then... well, yeah. He is a victim all in his own right, hard as it may be to see from a certain viewpoint. The only world MK knows is his own family and their home- his two dads, Y/N, the Flower Fruit Mountain monkeys, and the mountain itself.

The end. No school. No friends. Nothing.

And that's just the way his dads like it! Sun Wukong likes that his kiddo is isolated, stunted, socially awkward and somewhat entitled! That just makes him easier to spoil! Easier to love! And Macaque, too! If he helps to custom-cater a world that his beloved baby boy can't survive outside of? Then MK can't leave, and thus can never escape his love and care!

Which is exactly why MK needs the reader.

In spite of being everything that the little kid is not, Y/N's startling normality is the only grounding factor that MK has to let him know that something is wrong. Because Y/N didn't have the upbringing that their little brother had, they have a legitimate claim to being the least mentally-skewed of the family, which is, unsurprisingly, one hell of a boon.

Like, MK has it great... at first. Never Having to do chores or make your own food, and having your overbearing daddies brush your teeth and tie your shoes for you is awesome when you're four, but sucks ass when you're twelve and can barely function outside your role as a spoiled prince-

But! There's still Y/N!

Frustrated, jealous, and angry Y/N. Y/N, who seethes and huffs and kicks their feet and grits their teeth and punches their pillow into pulpy fluff, who curses under their breath and has to burn all the letters they write about how much they despise their family. Y/N who was only spared punishment after the scraps of those letters were found because MK cried and begged for his daddies to forgive his older sibling because-

Because Y/N, in spite of their jealously and anger, will still roll up both sleeves, sit down, and teach their little brother how to tie his shoes, how to roll up a tube of toothpaste to squeeze the last bit out, how to boil water and brown meat.

There's this normalcy to being hated by someone that anchors MK to reality, even though he's a little too young and naive to really put his grateful feelings into words, so instead it all manifests as "Y/N is my favorite person ever and ever!" that Wukong and Macaque don't like (because they are both horribly jealous) but will force Y/N to reciprocate.

And even when his beloved older sibling bullies their parents into coughing up the necessary resources in order to head off to college, MK keeps in touch with the phones he begs both his fathers to buy, and manages to maneuver them both into two strict "buts".

Specifically, "You can go off to college, but you have to keep in touch with us and MK." and "We'll foot the bill, but you have to come back and stay here during the weekends."

Which is... enough. Enough of a thread cut loose that Y/N slips free to experience at least a mildly normal life pursuing their desired field with some actual space to grow and heal and establish normal relationships outside of their toxic family.

(Even though they're definitely becoming the mom/dad friend.)

Then there's the matter of "How good of a hero will MK be without his good-natured upbringing, courtesy of Pigsy and Tang?" that you brought up, and the answer to that question is: "Don't worry about it, because MK doesn't get to be a hero."

After all, why would his dads risk losing their miracle baby?

So it isn't even "Would MK ditch a fight or otherwise give up on it when he struggles?", it's "Can Y/N bare-knuckle Red Son's cute face into pulp with only their long suppressed rage as fuel?" because MK isn't the hero of NTB- Y/N is.

And they don't ever intend on losing the new life they fought to find.

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Yandere Sun Wukong #Yandere Macaque #Yandere MK #Red Son #Not The Beloved

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seat-safety-switch · 3 days ago

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Once, we were on a roadtrip. On that roadtrip, we stayed at a hostel. That hostel, despite its other negative attributes, sported a couple of goats. Here's the thing that you should know about goats: they'll stand on your hood.

Now, I'm not one of those people who frets about every single rock chip. In fact, just before I had settled down for that fateful night, I had taken the Celica blasting down a gravel road at a great (and surely legally compliant) rate of speed. I had to get to breakfast, though, and I firmly believe that in the great pantheon of nature, "I want to eat some eggs" overrules the goat's right to survey his(?) kingdom by standing on my hood. So I told him to leave.

Funny fact about goats: they do not understand English. Or, they do, and they just don't comply with anything you tell them. I tried a few other languages, and then threw in some profanity when that didn't work. Nothing doing. The goat stayed on my hood. Stuck, I decided to do what I always do to end a conversation: get in the car, and rev the engine a couple times while making annoyed gestures at my passengers, who were all standing well away from the goat, terrified/impressed by the majesty of nature inherent in it. Breakfast, motherfuckers, I shouted. Let's go.

Banging that humble 5SFE off the limiter, even cold, did not dislodge the goat. The goat, in fact, just stayed there, happy to ignore the frantically-revving cough drop under their hooves. Finally, I gave up, and killed the engine. As a group, we decided it would be best to just let the goat leave on his own, rather than risk any harm by trying to drive away. We went inside and hungrily played cards for awhile, pausing only to take furtive glances out the window in case the goat had left.

An hour later, we came out, and the goat had left. Now there was a cat on my hood, a nice orange tabby. It was much easier to get rid of the cat. All I had to do there was attempt to lure him inside the car so I could have a free cat. Took off like a shot.

If there is a moral to the story, it's that you should always do a roadtrip with more than one car, so you can still get breakfast when there's a goat on your hood. You might think this advice is useless now, but just wait until it happens to you.

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fadelbison · 19 hours ago

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#A READ#but a deeply loving one - @chicademartinica

oh man it is SO deeply loving what can I say about it?

bad shows and mediocre shows and boring shows are necessary for the artistic process. the truth is that sometimes Jojo Tichakorn will make a boring show. bless Never Let Me Go but I don't remember a single thing about that show other than Pond and Phuwin sat on the beach soulfully looking out at the sea in sepia adjacent coloring. But that was simply his artistic impulse. there's no THK without only friends without NLMG. And in that VERY same interview from TWO years ago Jojo revealed that Ninew originally wanted Only Friends to be set in an acting class while Jojo pushed it to Business. and now??? Ninew gets to direct Only Friends: Dream On. HIS vision of only friends. It's mind boggling, for a queer person to live such a sweet life, training under a mentor, working towards and achieving their dreams I just dgaf if it's horrible I love OF: Dream On with all my being already.

I don't know if P'Golf will ever construct a story where they don't pretend that the villain is not the villain? Like they build such compelling narratives of conflict and intimacy and the intimacy to be found within conflict and then completely forget to set up the motivations of their antagonists (RIP Thua and Ter plywood beams supporting so much of the narrative's weight) but like I really dgaf the person who submitted Thailand's marriage equality bill, an act that changed the course of history can do whatever the fuck they want lol

I mean many such cases?? I didn't watch Last Twilight despite Aof being one of my favorite directors period is because I knew his protagonists tend to follow lakorn logic, he did it in ATOTS, DBK, MLC and even in Bad Buddy (random shooting my beloved <3), like idk if it's the shared enthusiasm for RPF or traditional asian narratives but I feel this man's vision on an atomic level and I knew from the trailer how that show was going to end and I didn't watch it because I know his artistic limitations. But then it suddenly became about how GMMTV hates disabled people. Like??? Not only did Aof Noppharnach present such a beautifully compelling and deeply celebratory representation of queer disability in MLC he named his queer disabled character Heart idk how to explain the shock I felt when faced with people's short term memory regarding this.

I'm not surprised that Nuchy is the one directing Burnout Syndrome, a three-way entanglement with gun atthaphan as the centerpoint. The exclusion of GramBlack, outside of its social reactions and implications, was a significant failing of her narrative. Gram was in fact in love with Black, that's what how it was in the original story from which Not Me was adapted and that's how it was in the show. To change who a character is in love with is changing the whole character which she simply hadn't done but she compromised her art against social pressures and like I don't have proof but im not surprised that the keys to Gun's Off Jumpol chastity belt was handed to Nuchy.

it's incredible, make your shitty pots my dears I'm here to witness it. we are nowhere near the peak for any of these people. Hayao Miyazaki was 47 when he directed My Neighbor Totoro. Jojo is only 40 years old that's a baby in artist years. They are pioneers in an entirely toddler of a genre, they have countless more life experience to collect and tonnes more stories to tell imperfectly and I am simply so happy to be here. I like to acknowledge GMMTVs hand in creating this reality.

I think one of the most incredible things about gmmtvs artistic direction *is* their dedication towards the commonplace the steady the familiar. Not only do they make boring gay shows (in addition to the exciting and interesting imo) but they do it consistently every single year. Every single year they make terrible shows and boring shows; shows you can put on in the background and promptly fall asleep during shows that I consistently forget exists or even aired (in addition to the great!).

Will P’Golf ever stick the landing in their shows? idk but they certainly will be directing till we find out 😂 Is New Siwaj on some quest to turn his low stakes college anthology style into like a degrassi or skins-esque staple? idk gonna find out during gmmtv2026. Which formative media for Jojo is going to become his next aesthetic centerpoint? Idk but we gonna find out. Will Aof Nopparnach ever stop directing like he wished he was making lakorns instead? maybe if it’s RPF but idk we gotta find out.

Like??? I am following pioneer creators on their creative journey *as* they’re taking it. I’m watching them fumble and pirouette as they sculpt their pieces; flaws and all.

man what an incredible place for queer media to be and what good luck to be experiencing it when I am

#I was so busy yesterday I couldn't elaborate #I was not expecting this to leave my circle of circus goers #who are long used to the way I talk #people were confused lol #nani's hot takes

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cheeeryos · 2 days ago

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ok so @flightspathfic asked everyone to send her your fave adam parrishes and got like no response?? I was also hoping to get some good fic recs from that request but guess I gotta do everything around here myself...

canon adams (at least through trc):

and we keep on wanting by nekare

written post-cdth so the happy ending has a different flavor (which might be a good thing for some of you...)

don't know anything (except that green is so green) by York

adam comes home for spring break. emphasis on home.

the body is a question only touch can answer by thelimetree

the laundry room incident from opal.

the weight you carry by @catboynecromancy

adam has a strange habit. ronan doesn't ask.

i'm not waiting for the wolves by tamquams

in which adam gets his apartment. this is a bit of a smuggle for a favorite ronan, but it's very adam-centric so it still counts!!

au adams:

if you say the word by sleeptodream

the way adam is soooo desperate for love and affection in this one is painful 💖

gets late early by @charactershoesfic

southpaw knuckleballer adam :)

Like Constellations by @behindtheatlantic

adam gets stuck on a planet by himself.

Handle It by @flightspathfic

adam is too hungover to put up his defenses and ronan is gleeful about it.

You're Just Too Good To Be True by @toast-the-unknowing

10 things I hate about you au. no one is brave enough to go on a date with ronan lynch except adam.

cheeryos adams:

yeah I'm sneaking in a couple of my own.

Troublemaker

pre-canon. adam gets detention and freaks out about it.

Talk to Me

non-magic au. it's not that adam has a praise kink for submitting or doing what he's told. but adam is clever and diligent and he puts in the goddamn hours to master every skill he tries his hand (or mouth) at, so the least you can do is acknowledge that he's the best boy in the world after all that hard work.

#this is what I'm talking about how the fandom is crickets these days #please I beg u all: bring out your adams!#this is by no means an exhaustive list I just pulled out a couple great ones #also sorry I'm reccing your own fic to you flightspath. but you already know this is a fave of mine! just hits all my funny bones at once #adam parrish fic fest '25 #pynch fanfic #my recs

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cirilla-fiona-riannon · 3 days ago

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ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜꜱ ᴡɪʟᴅᴄᴀᴛ ᴄʟᴜᴍꜱɪʟʏ ꜱʜᴏᴡꜱ ᴀꜰꜰᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies. Not proofread.

Emma: "Prince Kagari's birthday is today?"

Townswoman: "Yes, it's become a tradition for the whole town to celebrate."

Emma: "So that's why it's so lively today."

(I had no idea it was Kagari's birthday.)

The townspeople were particularly excited, and the sweet smell of dorayaki filled the air from every direction.

Townswoman: "You should celebrate Prince Kagari too."

Townswoman: "I'm sure he'd be thrilled if someone as special as you sent him good wishes."

A woman I'd gotten to know since coming to Kogyoku flashed me a cheerful smile and gave me a gentle push.

Townswoman: "If you're having trouble picking a gift, I'll help you out!"

Emma: "Thanks, but since it's a special occasion, I'd like to come up with something myself."

(This feels kind of weirdly pressuring. Or is it just me?)

Satisfied with my response, the woman cheerfully left after offering a few words of encouragement.

(Kagari's helped me more times than I can count since I got to Kogyoku. Whether or not I'm special to him, I can't just ignore his birthday now that I know about it.)

(Alright.)

(Wait, what's this ridiculously long line?!)

When I packed my gift and made my way to the castle, I found the square completely packed with people who had come to celebrate Kagari.

(Swordsmen, nobles, commoners—wow, that's a huge crowd.)

At the front of the line, a striking figure with red hair caught my eye.

He was expressionless, silently receiving greetings and tributes one after another.

(Prince Kagari looks completely detached, like it has nothing to do with him. He doesn't seem happy at all.)

I stood on my toes to get a better look, and our eyes met.

(Did he just catch me staring? He's always quick to notice when someone's looking at him.)

I looked away and took cover by a nearby cherry blossom tree.

(What should I do? It's going to be difficult to celebrate with this many people around.)

(I really wanted to celebrate on his actual birthday, but maybe I should come back tomorrow. Wait, what?)

When I glanced back, Prince Kagari was gone.

Instead, his attendant was standing there, and despite not being the prince, people were still offering celebratory words and gifts.

It was a weird sight.

Kagari: "You're wide open, Princess."

(!?)

I turned toward the voice, and a hand suddenly covered my mouth.

Before I could react, he pulled me into the shadows beneath the tree, my back gently pressed against the trunk.

Emma: "Mmph!"

(When did he even get behind me?!)

I struggled, but he effortlessly pinned me against the tree, his face now dangerously close to mine.

For a second, I thought my heart would stop.

Kagari: "Will you behave?"

I nodded frantically, and only then did he finally let go of my mouth.

But the distance between us didn't change. He placed his hands on the tree, keeping me trapped.

(Calm down, Emma.)

(He's probably just staying this close to avoid being seen by others.)

I instinctively lowered my voice, careful not to let my breath brush against him.

Emma: "Why are you here?"

Kagari: "I saw you."

Emma: "So you came to see me?"

Kagari: "You called me."

(Is that how he saw it?)

A mix of guilt and a strange, fluttering warmth settled in my chest.

Kagari: "If you were planning to stand in line, you should give up."

Kagari: "That line won't die down until nightfall."

Emma: "That long…?"

Kagari: "And at night, there's a banquet. It'll go on until dawn."

(Spending an entire day celebrating… The Yaksha of Kogyoku really goes all out.)

I was impressed, but his expression remained blank as always.

He gazed at the never-ending line of people as if it had nothing to do with him, his detached demeanor unfitting for someone being celebrated.

(I feel like Kagari doesn't care much about his birthday.)

(What if he finds it annoying that I came?)

Kagari: "So? Why are you here?"

I instinctively looked away.

Emma: "I was just curious since there are so many people."

(I can't bring myself to say I also came to celebrate.)

I hid the bag with the present behind my back.

Kagari was silent for a while.

An awkward silence fell between us, making the noise around us feel distant.

(I hid it, but I wonder if he noticed.)

But Kagari didn't say anything more about it and just grabbed my arm.

Kagari: "Princess, will you come with me?"

Emma: "Huh? W-Wait, Prince Kagari?"

He stealthily led me toward the castle, barely giving me a choice. Once inside, he unceremoniously shoved me into a room before disappearing and returning with a large basket.

Kagari: "First, put this on."

Emma: "A hakama?"

Kagari: "Next, wrap this around your face."

Emma: "A scarf?"

Kagari: "Lastly, wear this at your waist."

Emma: "A… sword!?"

Kagari: "Tie your hair into a single ponytail."

Emma: "Um…?"

(Why are we suddenly having a dress-up session?)

I accepted each item as he handed them to me, tilting my head in confusion. But then, without hesitation, he picked up the hakama and reached for my clothes.

Kagari: "If you don't know how to wear it, I'll help."

Emma: "N-No! I got this!"

(I have no idea what's going on, but this can't possibly be bad, right?)

#ikepri jp #ikemen prince #ikepri kagari #ikepri #kagari amagase #ikepri translations #cybird

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tinylilacbun · 17 hours ago

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Birds of a Feather

Pairing: daddy!rafe x maybank!little!reader

Warnings: light age regression, heavy angst, major character death, jj is readers twin, no happy ending, word count: 1,3k, I apologize for all possible tears I'll cause with this...

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────

You are in shock, holding the dagger coated in blood in your trembling hand as you stare down at one of Dalia's men who just tried to choke you to death, only to be met with a stab to his side and then his chest multiple times as you managed to straddle him.

You couldn't believe what you just had done. You never imagined that things would escalate this bad, but here you are, looking at the person whose life you just took to save your own.

Even with the current sand storm going on and your lungs burning like hell you can't get yourself to move, until you feel someone grabbing your arms and hoisting you up.

Instantly you began to struggle, not hearing or recognizing the person talking to you as you're still in surviving mode.

"Hey, hey! It's me, Rafe." He snaps, grabbing your wrist tight so you can't move and do something you might regret later on. "Look at me. Here."

He lifts his one hand to show you his ring that you're all too familiar with, having turned it on his finger multiple times whenever you are anxious.

Slowly you start to calm down, your whole body shaking.

"Give me the knife..." He says slowly to not set you off, gently taking the dagger from your tight grip. "That's it. I got you."

Soon he has it pocketed away and grabs your hand, tugging you along with him somewhere safe from any more of Dalia's men and the storm.

Your brain couldn't really function at the moment, only trying to focus on Rafe as he leads you to safety.

You want so badly to regress right now but you know you can't, not now, it's far too dangerous and risky to let yourself be vulnerable to those who are possibly still after you.

"Come on, keep going. We gotta find the others." Rafe's voice occasionally pulls you out of your thoughts.

Then you suddenly hear some shout not far away from you.

"John b! Pope! Y/N!" You can make out Kie screaming repeatedly on top of her lungs, detaching yourself from Rafe's grasp as you run towards where the shouting comes from.

"Kie! Where are you?" You yell desperately, having a gut feeling that something's incredibly wrong. "JJ!"

After almost tripping over different obstacles you soon reach the others, seeing the most terrible nightmare to come true.

JJ, your twin brother, the person you've practically been attached to the hip since birth, is sitting unmoving on the ground with a dark and fresh stain of blood on the same area of his abdomen that you patched up after Groff's first attempt of killing him.

"JJ..." You whisper, falling onto your knees beside him as John B and Kie move a little to the side. "Hey, c'mon..."

You take his face in your hands, almost flinching by how cold he feels already, your eyes moving down to where he got stabbed.

"You- You gotta wake up. You hear me? JJ!" Your voice starts to crack, slightly shaking him to wake him up as you did your whole life whenever he slept almost the whole day when you and the pogues had plans.

No. It can't be. This is all just some cruel joke of his. He isn't gone. He's just messing with you. He is okay. Right? He has to be.

"Jayj...please- I can't- I can't do this without you." You begin to sob heavily, your breathing pattern uneven as you choke on your tears that uncontrollably flow down your cheeks.

You pull him against you, cradling his head against your chest as you press a kiss to the top of his sandy hair. "Pwease...you pwomised..."

This is all your fault. You shouldn't have left him alone, stick with him and keep an eye on him. You were so close to having everything. He promised that everything would be okay, he pinky swore it to you.

You fight against whoever is trying to pull you away from your brother, sobbing and talking incoherently as you only want to be close to him.

"Shh, shh, I'm here." Rafe whispers into your ear, wrapping his arms around you to immobilize you. "Shh, deep breaths."

You only manage to shake your head violently, trembling in his arms as you have to watch the others picking JJ off the ground.

Now you're sitting between Rafe's legs on the ground near the fire that Cleo set up, your back against his chest as you stare blankly at the crinkling fire, fiddling with JJ's shark tooth necklace.

You don't know what to think or let's say you can't.

You're completely in denial of what happened in the last hours, even when Rafe dug his grave, or when you carefully slid the rings - handing Kie the one he stole for during his crash out - off his fingers and the necklace around his neck, not even when you all lowered him inside the grave and watched Rafe close it up again.

Rafe finally decides to break the silence. "Groff said he was going to Lisbon. I don't know. If it was my friend...or brother." He says, adjusting his hold around you. "I'd probably just go after the guy that just killed him. Groff was already dead set on getting rid of JJ, he will definitely go after Y/N too. She's the last living heir of the Genrettes."

Nobody says anything at first, but they know there's truth behind his words. Groff won't stop until he gets what he wants, that means you're still in extreme danger as this man won't hesitate to kill you as well should he get the chance.

"He's not wrong." Kie speaks up. "You think JJ would sit here if it was one of us or worse his own sister? You think he'd do nothing?" She shakes her head, standing up.

"We all know what JJ would do." John says lowly. "He'd get even."

You get up as well, everyone looking at you as they expect you to say something but you simply walk off to where JJ is buried.

They watch after you as you walk, but decide to leave you be, knowing that this whole situation affects you more than anyone at the moment.

You stand right in front of the makeshift grave, taking a shakily breath as you lift your gaze to the night sky, seeing a particular star shining more than any other.

"M'sowwy...Jay. S-So much..." You manage to whimper out before the tears start to well up again, collapsing onto your knees. "I-I luv you..."

What JJ feared the most was being alone, and now, he's buried here in Morocco, so far from home it hurts knowing you won't even be able to visit him whenever you want to.

You keep crying until you feel someone sitting down next to you, letting the person pull you on their lap and cradle you against them.

"It's okay...just let it out." Rafe shushes you, rocking you back and forth to comfort even just the slightest bit. "Daddy's got you."

He knows you are regressed right now, hell neither him or the others can blame you. You're the last person he wants to see so broken and hopeless.

"I-I luv him...he- he pwomised." You sob into his neck and his heart hurts at the sight, hating that he can't do anything to make your pain go away.

"I know, I know." He murmurs, resting his chin on top of your head.

You keep crying until your body can't produce more tears, feeling safe in Rafe's protective hold as your breathing starts to regulate again.

"I swear...I'll go after Groff, even if it's the last thing I do. I'll make sure he suffers for everything he's put you through, and get the crown for you." He mutters against your hair, tightening his hold on you.

You can't get yourself to answer, too worn out to move a single muscle.

Groff will pay, sooner or later, there's no running away for him anymore. He'll pay.

For JJ.

#little!reader #daddy!rafe cameron x little!reader #daddy!rafe cameron #daddy!rafe x little!reader #daddy!rafe

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vest0 · 2 days ago

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🌈 I DID IT! I FINISHED!

Aaah, I'm so happy, and here more info about them! :D

If you have any questions or would like to request art on them, I will be only glad!

about;

These designs are made for a more human look and their anatomy consists of the familiar human one, except for the helmets, and starscream's wings. they will have a bot version, but later~

answers to possible questions:

Can I use your arts for my own purposes, or publish it somewhere?

sure, why not? the main thing is credit me, and preferably leave a link to my Tumblr!

Is this plot based on canon and can I criticize the idea for not being canon?

the plot includes a small part of the canon, but most of it was invented by me and my management of Megastars. regarding criticism - uh, criticism is allowed, but not on the topic of canons AND the pairing, plsss!

can I draw fanart for you/create my own idea related to this idea?

YESS, PLEASE DO?? Any fan work is like a diamond to me!! I will be very pleased and interested to see everything in your performance! (Actually, NSFW allowed too, but pls keep it within the limits of adequacy,,)

🌟 Starscream;

height - 5,2 or 158 cm.

weight - 50 kg

gender - she / her OR he / his. In my arts it's more as a female.

sexuality - bisexual (♀️), homosexual (♂️)

features - In the female version, Starscream has a small chest, but her hips are wider than her shoulders. Her wings are mobile but suitable for flight in the human version.

Starscream is one of the best Seekers, and as a fighter, is extremely valuable to the Decepticons. In the past, Starscream was an Autobot, the only Seeker among them, and was responsible for air operations. She joined the ranks of the Autobots at the beginning of the war. Before chaos and hostility between the two factions began on Cybertron, Starscream excelled in fights without rules, and led a cruel lifestyle. Frequent fights, a lot of skirmishes with other bots, she was at the center of criminal society, and often resorted to physical violence, or even murder. Thanks to her small size, Starscream was agile and fast, and her honed skills gave her an advantage against the enemy. She has always been an extremely cruel person, and quickly acquired the nickname "angel of death". She knew about Megatron while he was a gladiator. His arena fights delighted the young fem, and once she was even able to meet the great gladiator. After the war began, Starscream realized all the horror, and desperately sought to find redemption from the Autobots, which soon happened. Starscream had a very difficult time, because containing her true essence seemed like torture, but over time, she learned to control herself, not giving in to emotions in emergency cases. It was quite difficult with the realization that her former idol created such chaos, and this became the motivation to go to the end and win the burning war. Among the Autobots, Starscream stood out for her detachment and arrogance. It was difficult for her to communicate with others as friends, because it was unusual for her character and nature. She felt that she did not completely belong to this place, but she was held by the good goal of ending the war and returning peace. She is a cold, rude and very cunning person, hiding under her beautiful, scarlet eyes her cruel and terrifying spark, capable of tearing anyone apart without mercy, if necessary. Her fearlessness even in front of those who are twice her size plays into her hands, giving her more audacity and ardor.

Starscream's toxic and freedom-loving nature is precisely the reason why Megatron wanted her in his ranks, close to himself. No one had ever dared to challenge the lord before, but Starscream was not at all intimidated by Megatron's formidable status. This was exactly what the big bot lacked, someone who challenges him, especially doing it so passionately.

⛓ Megatron;

height - 6,7 or 201 cm.

weight - 110 kg

gender - he/his OR she/her (in my arts it's more as a male).

sexuality - Pansexual

features - There is a scar along his lip and scars all over his body. He often wears a sword belt, which emphasizes his strong and large body. He wears only closed shoes, such as combat boots or just boots.

In the distant past, Megatron was known as a fearsome gladiator in the Kaon arena, crushing his enemies with extreme cruelty and power. He didn't end up in the arena because of a happy life, but his success and fame became the initial impetus for something more than just being a beast entertaining the public. Megatron spent a lot of time training, not sparing his own body and strength. Each new fight became more and more furious and frighteningly cruel, and under the applause of the audience, Megatron began to learn eloquent monologues, wanting to get deeper into the hearts of his fans. Soon the fights turned into a real mess, after which, with a proudly raised fist, Megatron gave a speech, inspiring the people to a coup. It seemed to him for a long time that the council did not care about its own people, because in Kaon there was too much inexplicable disorder, which seemed to be turned a blind eye to. All this did not please the mature revolutionary at all.

The rage towards the indifference of the council grew with each passing day, and, unfortunately, the gladiator's speeches boiling with revolution were noticed too late. Megatron, thanks to his eloquence and self-confidence, was able to inspire many sparks in a short time, calling on them to join "justice". But, everything got out of control when Megatron was overshadowed by blind hatred. His long-time and best friend, Orion, stood against him, who saw the path to a prosperous life in a completely different way. But Megatron did not stop. The once good intention to return justice turned into a thirst for power at any cost, for Megatron could not bear the weight of the leader, and succumbed to anger, turning into a tyrant. The first years, the inexperienced lord created chaos, senselessly destroying Cybertron city after city, but with each new year he gained experience, learning to behave more thoughtfully and wisely than to succumb to eclipsing emotions. When he fully realized his role, Cybertron was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief. Megatron acted thoughtfully and tactically, which made the war against the Autobots even more intense and dangerous. There were many supplies needed by the Decepticons at the Autobot base, so sometimes there were secret operations to steal these resources, but one time, Megatron himself fell under the watchful eye of the air commander. He was neutralized with a couple of easy movements, when the silhouette of a familiar bot shone before his eyes. It was Starscream. And something in Megatron's spark clicked. An old acquaintance had achieved heights during the war, and her pressure kindled an incomprehensible warmth in the Decepticon. This was their first meeting in all this long time. And they are enemies. The gray bot was able to avoid a sad fate and escaped, but clearly decided for himself one thing - Starscream will be in his ranks, at any cost.

Megatron is stubborn and stands his ground, so Starscream has long tolerated the Lord's attempts to turn his head. Whether on the battlefield or when they were alone. Megatron even came to the Autobot base itself more than once, just to see his object of attention again, and to use enticing speeches. Starscream does not admit it, but she really likes the Decepticon Lord's pressure and his attractive impudence.

THAT'S IT, THANK U SM FOR READING MY SILLY HEADCANON IDEAS! <3

Hope u like it, and I'll wait for your questions, if you have something on your mind 🌟

#transformers #megastar #megascream #starscream #megatron #maccadam #headcanon

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captainsamuelmorrigan · 2 days ago

Text

Poolverine/Deadclaws

[Fluff/Angst with a happy ending]

I just think about Wade BEGGING Logan to let him sleep in bed with him. Logan just shakes his head every time, "You don't wanna do that, bub."

But Wade VERY MUCH does. He would literally kill to sleep with Logan, either way he takes that. Well, he'd literally kill someone regardless, that's his job, but you know!! He wants to run his bumpy, scarred fingers through Logan's chest fur so bad. He daydreams about big spooning his Honey Badger, sliding his arms around him and pressing his front to Logan's big, strong, and warm back. He only feels a little horny about it. A normal about of chubbing up about it.

He begs Logan for weeks, getting on his knees for all the wrong reasons. He hasn't wanted anything this bad for at least a few months! He's desperate.

Like most things in Wade's life, it happens at an unexpected and probably bad time. They had had a mission go bad, both bloodied, and ended up showering and finding comfort in bed with each other. They hardly spoke. It just mattered that they were physically touching. They were both still here. Wade got his Wolverine snuggles, and everything was alright again.

Well, until around 4 in the morning. Wade woke up to three adamantium alarm clocks punching through each of his lungs. It hurt like a bitch. He coughed blood right onto Logan's face. Gross. He definitely wasn't getting invited back to bed after this. He weakly tapped the furry man's shoulder. "Logie-bear, I was expecting some penetration tonight, but I like the pre-made holes played with a little more."

Logan growled in his sleep before the taps brought him back to consciousness. His eyes flipped open, and his expression changed from anger to horror in an instant. "WADE! Wade, I'm so sorry-" The claws withdrew, drawing another wet cough out of Wade. "Please, please, stay with me." He started to gather the sheets to press against Wade's chest, his hands slippery and red. "Althea!! Help! Please!" His eyes were wild, scared, and firmly on Wade. "We'll fix this. I'll fix this!" He turned towards the door again, yelling louder. "Althea!! Help me!!"

Wade was a little stunned. What was going on? He patted Logan's arm, trying to get 400 pounds of superhero off of him. He coughs out an "Off!"

Logan looked at him like he was crazy. "Fuck you if you think I'm letting you die here."

Wade tried to push him off again, smearing blood onto Logan's hairy chest. He sputtered, trying to get words out, but the air wasn't quite doing what he wanted yet. Drowning in blood sucked! 0/5 stars on Yelp for sure.

Al knocked loudly on the door. "Logan? You okay in there?" Logan leaped to unlock the door, allowing Wade to sit up a little bit, his flesh starting to really knit back together, feeling his lungs start to clear.

Logan opened the door. "Althea, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I stabbed Wade, he's- He's bleeding out. You need to call a medic- a doctor, someone!" His voice wavered a bit.

Althea placed a hand on her hip, raising an eyebrow as she leaned on her walker. "Motherfucker, what the fuck are you talking about? A doctor?" Her nose wrinkled as she caught a whiff of Wade's blood permeating the room. "Whew, that's nasty. Clean that up when you're done with whatever this shit is."

Wade coughed. "Very sweet that you care, Logan." His tone softened. He was realizing Logan wasn't 'here,' he was somewhere else, Wade wasn't really Wade in this scene. "Take a breath, Honeybadger. I'll be fine if you just give me a-" cough "second."

Logan's breathing was still heavy, his eyes still wide and scared. Wade was sure the blood spatters across his face weren't helpful either.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm fine! Or, I'll be fine once the mutant cancer does its job. Remember? I don't die." He waved, smiling at Logan from the bed. He wasn't sure the blood dripping from his chest and mouth was helping his case.

Logan deflated a bit. "Oh." He turned to Al. "Althea, I'm sorry. I didn't realize, or, I forgot. I apologize for waking you up."

Al waved him off. "Yeah, yeah, I'm gonna go smoke a joint. If you need to loosen that tight ass, feel free to join me."

Logan closed the door, coming to sit on the bed, holding his head between his knees.

Wade wiped his hands on the sheets before crawling to put a hand on Logan's shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. You deserve to get to freak out here and there. We've been through some crazy shit. Did you want to talk about it? Do you want me to go swipe Al's weed? She's not as stingy about it as her cocaine, promise."

"I could've killed you." Logan admits from behind his hands.

"Not possible. Great try though, good form." The Merk quips.

"Don't! Don't joke right now. I would've killed you if you weren't like this." Logan gestures to Wade, his hand still trembling, Wade's blood starting to dry between his fingers. "I shouldn't have let myself fall asleep around you."

"Logan, bud, hey, look at me." Wade patted Logan's knee, scooting closer. "Really look at me."

Logan sat up, turning to face Wade, his eyes red-tinged. His hair is crusty with blood. "Okay...?"

"Am I dead?"

"No, but-"

"No! That's the whole thing. I am alive, whether I deserve to be, or should be, or anything else. I'm here! I'm still here." He smiles softly at Logan. "That's all that matters to me. If a Wolverine cuddle costs me some minutes drowning in blood, I can assure you that is a very small price to pay."

Logan opens his mouth to respond, his sharp canines catching the light from the street lamp outside before he shuts it again. "I'm dangerous."

"I eat danger for breakfast, usually with unicorn marshmallows."

Logan actually laughs at that. "You're insane."

"Insanely in love with you~" Wade teases, jostling Logan with his shoulder.

Logan groans, wiping his face with his bloodied hands. "That can't be the first time you say you love me, that's terrible."

"I think it's perfect. Now, c'mon, let's change the sheets."

"It's gonna stain the mattress." Logan moves.

"Number 2 rule of sex and superheroing without an in-unit washer and dryer, always use a waterproof mattress cover." Wade taps his temple, smirking.

After another shower, a quick change of sheets, and replacing the mattress cover, Wade and Logan are back in bed, cuddled close.

"I love you, too." Logan says softly. "That's a pretty dangerous thing, though."

"Again, danger, breakfast, unicorn marshmallows." Wade mumbles as he pulls Logan closer.

#poolverine #deadclaws #wade wilson #wade x logan #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3 #deadpool #wolverine #logan howlett #fluff #angst with a happy ending

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thezombieprostitute · 2 days ago

Text

Tech Tuesday: Ransom Drysdale

Summary: New Years Day starts with you realizing you fell asleep on top of Ransom.

Warnings: Angst, Miscommunication, Panic attack. Please let me know if I missed any.

You're slow to wake up. Your bed is way less comfy than usual. You try to reach for a blanket or pillow. Your hand finds something soft, maybe your afghan blanket, but when you pull, it doesn't move much.

That's when you hear the gentle snoring, making your eyes shoot open. It registers that you've been pulling on Ransom's sweater as he was laying under you.

That can't be comfortable, you think.

Gently you start trying to get off of him without waking him up but you're stopped when, with a sleepy grumble, Ransom wraps his arms around you and squeezes you tight. it feels nice and you're still sleepy enough your brain can't fight the urge to lean into it. As much as you've enjoyed when Ransom lets you hug him, being on the receiving end feels even better.

Wait! No! Ransom doesn't like touch!, you reprimand yourself.

Not wanting to continue taking advantage of his sleepy state you start struggling to escape his grasp. He wakes up and panics at seeing you in his arms. He pushes you off of him and you land on the floor, thankfully on your back.

"I'm so sorry," you quickly move away from the couch. "I didn't mean to fall asleep on you. I know you don't like to be touched."

"What?" Ransom gasps. "I...I'm..." Ransom practically runs to his bathroom and slams the door shut. He's mortified. No, he's scared. He was soft, vulnerable just now. And last night, he thinks, as the memories return.

He looks at his reflection and his breathing goes ragged. He spent so much of his life being a privileged asshole. Now he's hugging people. Being friendly. The old him would've relished taking your first kiss for himself and maybe pushed even further. Instead he talked you down to just doing a toast. And then that got interrupted by---

"Ransom?" your voice squeaked through the door. "I...are you...I'm sorry. I didn't...Are you going to be okay?"

He splashes water on his face, his breathing still hasn't slowed. He wants to respond, tell you something, anything but he can't get his brain to work. Someone found him. All he can do is go over the snipes, the criticisms, the fake concern, the toxicity he knows he'll get when his family pulls him back into their clutches.

He sits on the floor, face in his hands. He can't do it. He refuses to go back to them. He won't let them hurt him again! He was proud of himself for surviving on his own. He was learning what real happiness was. What friendship really could be. He doesn't want to be the cold, ruthless asshole he used to be.

But was he really better off like this? One person he doesn't know calls him "Hugh" and suddenly he's a pitiful mess. He's never felt so weak. At least with his family he knew how to survive. This situation is too new. He can't...he doesn't know how to keep going. A sob escapes him.

"Ransom?" your voice is more urgent at the sound. "Ransom? Please talk to me? Open the door? Something?"

He can't. He can't let you see him like this. All of his instincts are telling him that only pain will come from being seen like this. Tears start pouring and he can't stop them. He can't catch his breath. He wants to call out for help, ask you to hold him, but his brain knows that if he does that you'll only hurt him.

"Ransom?" you sound like you're on the verge of a panic attack. "Ransom I'm not going to open the door, but I'm also not leaving until I know you're okay."

He sobs again. Why can't you leave him alone to be miserable in peace? Why do you insist on being there for him? He's pathetic. He can't even have a simple encounter without flying off into a panic! He knows you're just going to make fun of him. Maybe that's why you're still here. It's not that you care, it's that you need to be better than someone!

"Leave me alone," he sputters between breaths.

His words cut deep and you sniffle. You know he doesn't like being touched but you threw yourself on top of him last night! You even reached under his sweater to warm your hands! Sure he'd commented you could if you just got into the cab but still, that wasn't proper consent, was it?

"I'm so sorry, Ransom," you gulp. "I shouldn't have had so much to drink. I should have been in better control of myself. I didn't...I didn't mean to upset you. Even drunk me should know to respect your personal space."

"That's not what upset me!" he yells through the door, startling you. You've never heard him so angry.

"I'm sorry I brought that guy over the table," you mumble just loud enough for him to hear. "I was just trying to help you make some new friends."

"Because you enjoy seeing me flounder? Because you thrive on watching me make an idiot of myself? Because you need to prove you're better than me?!"

His words pierce your heart and the tears flow even more. You want to run away and hide like you used to but you can't. You can't leave Ransom in this state. You remember being there. Believing the worst in people. You know how lonely it is.

"Because I was drunk and thought you'd like more friends than just me," you explain. "You've made so much progress and I know I'm not your favorite kind of person. Nick looked on the richer side, like he had good taste or something. He looked like someone you could talk to that wouldn't annoy you with his...his bubbly personality."

Ransom goes quiet as he tries to process your words. He tries to think up something to say but all he can blurt out is, "what?"

Between sniffles you explain, "you're always so well dressed, so clean and tidy, so put together. I know the only reason you hang out with me is because you don't have experience making friends. I knew, going into this friendship, that you wouldn't want me around for long once you got some friends you could actually relate to. Friends to talk to about expensive cars, fine wines, stuff like that."

Ransom's breathing slows down as he continues listening to your voice.

"I know I'm a silly kind of person," you continue. "I see your eyes roll because of me. I hear your exasperated sighs. I know you're only friends with me because you need someone to be. I thought Nick might be that better friend for you."

"You want to get rid of me?" Ransom whines.

"No!" you're quick to assert. "I just know that you find me annoying. Friends shouldn't annoy friends every time they talk. Like I annoy you."

"I don't..." Ransom stops himself. He does roll his eyes at you a lot, but he thought you saw it as part of his being playful with you. Was this part of your own baggage? Do you believe yourself to be annoying as much as he believes himself to be a cold-hearted bastard? "You're not annoying," he finally says. There's so much more he wants to say, but his brain isn't working right.

"I'm still sorry I brought him over to the table," you mutter. "We were doing so good, having so much fun and I ruined it."

Ransom's breathing picks up again at the reminder of being called "Hugh". At the warning that his family was still looking for him, and had succeeded.

"It's not your fault," he chokes out. "He was an asshole seeking to ruin our night." He takes a few moments to regulate his breathing before he continues. "He knew who I was, he didn't need to get any closer. He chose to. He took advantage of you. It's not your fault."

"I trust you, Ransom."

Those four words spark more tears from Ransom because he knows you mean them. No one's ever told him anything like that before. He never knew how much responsibility came with not being a toxic asshole and he's not sure he'll ever be cut out for it.

"You deserve a better friend," he sighs. "Someone who's better at...communicating."

He hears you scoff. "Ransom, you know languages other than English, right?"

"Kinda," he replies, confusion lacing his tone.

"Were you fluent in any of them when you first started?"

"Of course not. It takes practice."

"So do things like this. And even then...even then you can still have times where your brain jumbles the languages and nothing comes out. Or where you can't think of the word and you default to your native language." You hear some sniffles from Ransom's side of the door. "It takes practice and being around others who speak the language. But eventually you get it."

There's silence for a few minutes and you worry you've overshared. But the you hear him.

"Can you get me the Sweater Pusheen?"

"On it!"

You rush to the living/dining area and grab the stuffed animal. Outside the bathroom, you gently knock on the door and it opens just enough for you to pass the plushie to him. Respecting that you haven't been invited in, you close the door for him and sit back down.

Ransom squeezes the Pusheen like a lifeline. He's learned that it helps his breathing, helps him calm down. He even started keeping it in his car for rough days at work. But while it is helping, he's realizing it's not enough. No. That was when he was hugging on you before he was fully awake. That was whenever you hugged him, allowing him to hug you back. The plushie is helpful, but it's no substitute for the real thing.

He lets out a frustrated sigh. "Hey, are you still there?"

"Yes."

"Can I hug you?"

"Of course!"

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ozwriterchick; @ronearoundblindly; @lokislady82; @thiquefunlover63

#tech tuesday #tech tuesday: ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x female!reader #it!ransom drysdale x office worker!reader #ransom drysdale x you

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