David is such a big Star Wars fan. So when he meets you for the first time in your Padmé cosplay, he shatters. The blue shimmering trail of that cape falls off your shoulders. He is just walking down the street when his gaze hit you. Your sitting with your friends taking a photo shoot. David struts over trying to get a better look and he just freezes when he sees you.
His breath hitches at the ethereal sight in front of him. It's love at first sight. It's like the scene in a movie. The sunlight hits you just right whilst leaning on the stone railing. Your soft skin glistens in his eyes. David just stands there slack-jawed until your group notices him. He finally snaps out of it and blushes once he realizes he is gawking at you like an idiot.
Its funny really, he's a stuttering, blubbering mess. Tripping over his words as he tries to explain that he was just admiring your guy's costumes. Also that he really, really likes Star Wars. You giggle and look up at the giant man now making your heart jump. Whilst shyly batting your eyelashes you decide to give him a little twirl. The colorful satin dress sways has David's gaze never leaves your form.
Your photographer friend gives David their Instagram so he can get some of the photos. But your number is what he really wants. He tries to maneuver around a good enought conversation as to not come off as a bit of a creep for wanting some cosplayer instagram, let alone their phone number.
Their's just this big dork in front of you spouting out Star Wars fact's infront of you as a means to impress you. He becomes an even bigger dork when you geek out with him. Your honesly shocked when "Superman" ask's for your number under guise of wanting to talk more about the franchise you both love. And you do, begrudgingly, this devastatingly handsome man puts you a little on edge.
But he honestly couldn't be happier to see where this goes.
You were standing in front of the hotel mirror with your hands very carefully holding the sides of your dress together while your best friend, who had been helping you get ready, stared at the back of it in horror.
“No,” she said.
You looked at her reflection. “What do you mean, no?”
“I mean no as in absolutely not, no as in this zipper has betrayed us as women, and no as in I am about to sue this dress personally.”
You twisted your head as much as you could. “Is it broken?”
“It is… refusing to participate.”
A laugh escaped you, quick and nervous, but it died almost immediately. Down in the lobby, Luke was probably already being asked if he was ready, if he needed the car, if he wanted final press notes before the red carpet.
This was your first major premiere with him, your first truly huge public event where cameras would be everywhere and every move would be watched, photographed, discussed, and taken apart online by strangers with profile pictures of flowers and no mercy.
“Please tell me you can fix it,” you said.
Your friend held up a bobby pin like a tiny weapon. “I can fix anything.”
Ten minutes later, the zipper was technically closed, but you no longer trusted it, the dress, fashion itself, or maybe civilization. You stood very still while she secured the back with enough hidden pins to qualify as light armor.
“Do not breathe too deeply,” she warned.
“That’s comforting.”
“It’s practical.”
A knock sounded at the suite door. Before you could answer, it opened and Luke stepped inside, already dressed, already impossibly handsome in a perfectly tailored black suit that made him look like every dangerous, elegant role he had ever played all at once.
His hair was brushed back, his jaw clean and sharp under the warm light, and when he saw you, he stopped in the doorway like the rest of the room had disappeared.
For one second, all your panic paused.
“Well,” he said softly.
You tried to smile. “Good well?”
He crossed the room, eyes never leaving you. “Very good well.”
Your friend clutched her chest dramatically. “Thank God. Someone in this room still believes in romance.”
Luke reached you and rested one hand carefully at your waist, mindful of the dress, the pins, the nerves, all of it. “You look stunning.”
“I look fragile,” you said.
He glanced at your friend. “What happened?”
“The zipper happened,” she said darkly.
Luke frowned at the back of your dress as if personally offended on your behalf. “Do we need another one?”
“There isn’t time,” you said. “And it’s fine. Probably.”
“Probably is not a reassuring word.”
“Neither is premiere.”
That made him smile, small and crooked. He leaned down and kissed your forehead, not enough to disturb your makeup, just enough to steady you. “We can still skip it.”
You laughed under your breath. “Luke.”
“I’m serious.”
“You are the star of the film.”
“And you are my wife.”
The way he said it, so matter-of-fact, so simple, made warmth bloom in your chest despite everything. He was always like this when it came to you. The world could be loud, demanding, ridiculous, and Luke would look at you like the choice was still easy.
“I want to go,” you said. “I’m just… nervous.”
He tipped his head. “Only nervous?”
You gave him a flat look.
He grinned. “Terrified, then.”
“Much better.”
Your friend stepped back, satisfied with her work. “Right. You two are adorable, but if you don’t leave now, all this panic will have been for nothing.”
Luke held out his arm. “Ready?”
You looked at it, then at him. “No.”
“Perfect,” he said. “That means we’re on schedule.”
The elevator ride down was too short.
By the time you reached the lobby, the staff around you shifted into efficient motion, headsets and schedules and practiced smiles. Someone adjusted Luke’s cuff. Someone else asked if you wanted water. Another person explained where you would stop, which photographers were on the left side, how long you should pause near the backdrop, how the press line would move.
You heard almost none of it.
Your pulse had climbed into your throat. Outside, beyond the glass doors, the noise already sounded enormous , muffled, but unmistakable, the roar of voices and camera shutters and the strange electric chaos of public attention. Luke must have noticed your silence, because his hand moved from your back to your wrist and squeezed once.
“Look at me,” he said quietly.
You did.
“Breathe.”
“I am breathing.”
“That is a legal minimum. Try again.”
Despite yourself, you smiled. He guided you through one steady inhale, then another, and by the time the event coordinator was ushering you toward the car, you had at least remembered how your lungs worked.
The drive itself was worse in a different way. You sat beside Luke in the back seat, smoothing your dress every fifteen seconds while city lights flashed across the windows. He looked calm, but you knew him well enough to see the focus underneath it , the professional switch turning on, the version of him that could step into spectacle and make it look effortless.
“I shouldn’t have worn this,” you muttered.
He turned his head. “You’ve said that seven times.”
“Because it remains true.”
“You love that dress.”
“I loved it before it became structurally unsound.”
He chuckled and took your hand. “No one will know.”
“I’ll know.”
“That’s different. You know everything.”
You leaned your head back against the seat. “I’m already regretting this.”
“Then the second it becomes too much, we leave.”
You looked at him. “You can’t just leave your own premiere.”
“Watch me.”
That should have been ridiculous. Instead, it made your eyes sting a little.
The car slowed.
Outside, the crowd noise sharpened at once, no longer distant but immediate, alive, pressing in from all directions. You saw flashes through the windows, then faces, then the sweep of the carpet under bright lights. The whole scene looked unreal, like stepping into the inside of a camera.
“Oh God,” you whispered.
Luke brushed his thumb over your knuckles. “Stay with me.”
The door opened.
Everything exploded.
Voices shouted Luke’s name from every direction, photographers calling for him, publicists waving, flashes bursting so quickly they made the air feel white. Instinctively, you shrank closer to him, but his hand came to the small of your back and anchored there, warm and firm.
He turned first, smiling for the cameras with that easy grace you had seen a hundred times from the safety of a television or your phone, but it was different standing inside it. Different feeling the force of the attention. When he drew you beside him, there was a fresh wave of shouting.
“Luke, this way!”
“Luke, over here!”
“Can we get one with your wife?”
You smiled because you were supposed to. You paused because everyone else seemed to know you were supposed to. The backdrop behind you gleamed under the lights, elegant and expensive and absolutely indifferent to the fact that your heart was attempting escape.
Luke leaned slightly toward you without moving his smile. “You’re doing beautifully.”
“I can’t see.”
“That’s normal.”
“How is that normal?”
“You adapt.”
“Terrible answer.”
His mouth twitched.
A photographer called your name. That startled you more than it should have, but you turned toward the voice and another storm of flashes hit at once. You blinked hard, trying not to look startled, trying not to grip Luke’s arm too tightly, trying not to think about the millions of ways a woman could apparently stand incorrectly in a dress.
Then someone with a champagne tray clipped the edge of a stanchion.
It happened absurdly fast.
A guest turned. The tray tilted. One glass tipped toward you, and before you could react, cold champagne splashed across the front of your dress.
You gasped and jumped back. Around you, there was a horrible little ripple , surprise, apology, the half-hidden interest of nearby onlookers sensing a public mishap. The fabric darkened immediately, clinging in all the wrong ways.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” the waiter stammered.
“It’s fine,” you said automatically, though it was not fine, nothing was fine, and in the back of your mind you could already feel the beginning of humiliation heating your face.
Luke turned fully toward you, all camera-awareness gone. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re drenched.”
“It’s just champagne.”
But your voice sounded thin even to you.
A publicist appeared at Luke’s shoulder. “We can get someone to dab it out. Just keep moving for now, then there’s a press room inside,”
“No,” Luke said.
The word was calm, but it stopped everything around him for a second.
The publicist blinked. “Luke, we need to keep the line going.”
He looked at her once, politely, then back at you. “Do you want to go inside?”
You hated that your eyes were burning. Hated that it would look dramatic. Hated that strangers were two feet away pretending not to watch while definitely watching. “I don’t know.”
That was honest, and somehow worse.
Then, as if the universe had decided champagne alone was not enough, you felt it.
A tiny shift at your back.
A loosened pull.
The betrayal of a bobby pin giving up.
Your stomach dropped. “Luke.”
His expression changed instantly. “What?”
“The dress.”
He glanced behind you as discreetly as he could, and you saw understanding dawn in his face. Not panic, exactly. Just swift calculation.
“We’re leaving,” he said.
The publicist nearly choked. “Now?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Luke, you haven’t even spoken to,”
“I said we’re leaving.”
There was steel under the quiet now, the one that only appeared when something mattered more to him than being agreeable. He shrugged off his jacket in one efficient motion and stepped behind you, draping it around your shoulders before anyone else could say another word. The fabric was warm from his body and smelled like his cologne, grounding in a way you hadn’t expected.
“Come on,” he murmured.
Your face was hot. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For ruining,”
He stopped walking just enough to look at you properly. “Don’t.”
The single word hit harder than it should have.
He guided you away from the carpet, through a side entrance and down a quieter hallway where the sound of the crowd became a muffled pulse again. The second you were no longer visible, your carefully held composure snapped.
“This is a disaster,” you said, voice shaking. “I told you I shouldn’t have come, I knew this would happen, everyone saw, and now you’re missing your own event because my dress decided to die in public,”
“Hey.”
Luke caught your face gently in both hands, forcing your eyes to his. There were still people moving in the distance, staff with clipboards and security and assistants, but in that small pocket of hallway, his attention made the rest of it blur.
“It is a dress,” he said.
“It is your premiere.”
“It is a premiere.”
You stared at him, offended and on the verge of tears. “That is not helpful.”
“It’s true.”
One tear escaped anyway, humiliating and hot. You turned your face, but his thumb caught it before it could fall too far.
“I hate this,” you whispered. “I hate all of this.”
His expression softened instantly. “I know.”
“I hate feeling watched.”
“I know.”
“I hate that it’s always one wrong move and suddenly people decide who you are.”
He exhaled slowly. “I know that too.”
For a second, neither of you said anything. Then he rested his forehead lightly against yours, careless of cameras now because there weren’t any, careless of who might see because he had already chosen.
“Listen to me,” he said quietly. “You did not ruin anything. You came here for me even though this is not your world and never wanted to be. You stood beside me under a thousand flashes and looked beautiful, and then a waiter assaulted you with sparkling wine. None of that is your fault.”
A laugh broke out of you through the tears, unwilling and shaky. “Assaulted.”
“Violently.”
“That’s not what happened.”
“I saw malice in his eyes.”
You laughed again, more properly this time, and his mouth curved in relief.
“There you are,” he said softly.
You wiped under your eye with the heel of your hand. “I still look ridiculous.”
“No, darling. You look upset.”
“Same thing.”
“Not even slightly.”
He dropped his hands and glanced toward the exit at the end of the hall. “There’s a car still waiting for us.”
You stared. “You really are leaving.”
“Yes.”
“Luke,”
“No.”
His tone wasn’t sharp, but it was final. “I’m not sending you home alone from your first premiere in tears so I can go smile under fluorescent lights and answer questions about training schedules.”
“I don’t want to make you choose.”
“I already did.”
That shut you up.
For a moment you simply looked at him, this man who could command a room full of people without raising his voice, who knew exactly how these nights worked, who had spent years learning when to play the game and when not to. Tonight, apparently, he had decided not to.
A woman from the event team hurried toward you, breathless. “Luke, we can still salvage this if you just do twenty minutes inside. We’ve arranged a private,”
He lifted one hand. “Thank you. That’s kind. But no.”
She blinked, recalibrating. “Should we alert the press team?”
“Yes,” he said. “Tell them there was a wardrobe issue and that I apologize.”
You winced. “That sounds worse.”
He looked at you. “Would you prefer I say the carpet was unworthy of you?”
Despite everything, your mouth twitched. “Possibly.”
He turned back to the woman with complete seriousness. “Actually, no. Don’t say that.”
She nodded, clearly deciding not to engage with whatever this was. “Understood.”
When she left, you looked down at the jacket still around your shoulders, at the dark stain on your dress hidden beneath it, at your heels that had seemed glamorous an hour ago and now felt punitive.
“I’m sorry,” you said again, quieter.
Luke sighed like he had run out of patience for that specific sentence. “Stop apologizing for being human in a difficult dress.”
“That is a very narrow category.”
“And yet you’re excelling in it.”
He reached for your hand and started walking. This time, you went without resistance.
The cool night air outside felt like rescue.
Away from the carpet entrance, the street was calmer, though distant lights still flashed across the building facade. A black car waited near the curb. The driver opened the door at once, but Luke didn’t usher you inside immediately. Instead he turned to face you under the soft spill of streetlight.
“You know what I would like very much?” he asked.
You sniffed. “To go back in time?”
“Tempting. But no.”
“What, then?”
He considered. “Burgers.”
You stared at him. “Burgers.”
“Yes.”
“You are in a three-piece suit.”
“And you are wearing couture held together by rage and metal pins. I think we deserve burgers.”
A startled laugh slipped out. “This is not exactly a glamorous post-premiere image.”
“Good. I’m exhausted by glamorous images.”
You searched his face, half expecting him to be joking. He wasn’t. He looked entirely sincere, and somehow that made everything in your chest loosen a little more.
“You’d rather get burgers than go back?”
He gave you a look. “I’d rather be wherever you can breathe.”
That did it. Your eyes watered again, but this time the tears were softer, easier. You stepped toward him and slid your arms carefully around his middle, mindful of the jacket, the dress, the whole mess. He held you immediately, one hand cradling the back of your head.
“I’m sorry,” you mumbled against his shirt.
He laughed quietly into your hair. “You had one job.”
“I know.”
“And failed spectacularly.”
You pulled back enough to glare at him. “That was rude.”
“It was honest.”
“It was rude and honest.”
He smiled. “Better.”
The driver, to his credit, pretended not to hear any of this.
Twenty minutes later, you were in a tiny diner across town that stayed open late for theater people, drunk people, and those with very bad timing. Luke had called ahead to someone he knew, and they tucked the two of you into a back booth where the lighting was dim, the coffee was strong, and no one cared that your dress was designer or broken.
You still had his jacket around your shoulders. Your hair had lost some of its careful structure. Your makeup, when you checked it in your phone camera, had smudged just enough to make you look like you’d survived something minor but theatrical.
“It’s not that bad,” Luke said, stealing one of your fries.
“You are not the one with a possible zipper injury.”
He chewed thoughtfully. “Fair.”
The waitress set down your burgers with the kind of bored kindness that only came from people who had seen everything and judged none of it. The smell alone made your mood lift another degree.
For a few minutes, neither of you spoke much. You ate. You breathed. You let the absurdity of the evening settle into something survivable.
Finally, you looked up at him across the table. “You really don’t mind?”
“Minding what?”
“Leaving.”
He set his burger down. “Darling, I have done carpets, interviews, after-parties, premieres, junkets, all of it. There will be others. There is only one you.”
You stared at him.
He reached for your hand across the table. “I meant what I said. They’re not there for you. I am.”
The diner around you seemed to go soft at the edges for a second. Even after all these years, he could still say things so simply they took the breath right out of you.
“Now that,” you said quietly, “was disgustingly romantic.”
He squeezed your fingers. “I know.”
You smiled then, a real one, the first fully unguarded smile since the hotel room. “Thank you.”
“For the record,” he said, “you were magnificent.”
“In what sense?”
“In the sense that every photographer with functional eyesight will have gone home wondering who the mysterious woman in my jacket was.”
You laughed. “My mysterious identity will be revealed the second someone zooms in on the champagne stain.”
“Then they will call you brave.”
“They will call me sloppy.”
“I’ll start a campaign.”
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes. #ChampagneSurvivor.”
You nearly choked on a fry. “Absolutely not.”
He grinned, delighted with himself, and just like that the night became yours again , not the public version, not the polished one, not the one anyone would have expected from glossy photographs. The real one. The one where the dress broke, the champagne spilled, the cameras were too much, and your husband chose a diner booth over a premiere because you needed him to.
Later, when you finally got home and he helped you out of the traitorous dress with the care of a man dismantling a bomb, he kissed your shoulder and said, “Next time, trousers.”
You laughed into the quiet of your bedroom. “Next time, armor.”
He met your eyes in the mirror, smiling. “Done.”
And somehow, in the end, that felt better than any perfect red carpet ever could.
AHHHHH this is the final part and let me tell you I'm SAD. It was so hard to write the ending you all deserve after all this love, so I tried my best. Let me know what you think! Also, you deserve A LOT, so I made it long hehehe. Don't worry, a request about the RATH universe is coming soon! If you want one too, drop it in my inbox!
(1), (2), (3), (4)
Plot: The story of how Azriel fixed what was broken, and how you forgave him.
Warnings: this is sad, but has a happy ending! Also, mental health issues.
No one expected the sidra to froze that year, and against everyone expectation, one day Velaris had woken up to see the riven covered by a silver layer. Children had missed school to skate in the solid surface, parents watching carefully from the edge. Some couples were skating too, holding hands and giggling endlessly.
You had been watching the new scene unfold all morning. And while you usually loved snow and ice as much as any child in town, you were starting to get a little sick of all the noise.
It wasn’t your new employee situation, who had been staring at the river all morning. She had already finished her duties, but always the polite and nice girl, Elain Archeron was keeping you company.
When you spotted for the third time the familiar red-head through the glass and she didn’t say anything, just sighed, you decided you had enough.
“You should tell him to get in before he freezes to death” you commented, still busy with measuring the ingredients.
“Oh, no” Elain blushed and looked away from the window. “No. He’s just… He can wait”
“He can, but doesn’t have to. You and Lucien should head out, rent ice skates and have a fun day. You already finished here” you smiled kindly at her, and before she could reply, you added. “I’m fine, I don’t even like cold weather. And I still need to finish this, which you can’t help me with. So, go”
Elain stared at you with uncertainty, and you tried to look as convinced as possible. Would you have liked her to stay? After all, she was one of the few people you socialized with these days. She had turned in when you opened the bakery again, right after you posted the sign about looking for a new partner.
And even if you had had your doubts when you discovered she was Feyre’s sister and Azriel’s friend, you considered her your own friend.
So, yeah, you would have liked her to stay. Because you were still awfully sad all the time, and her company was one of the few things that made your day better. But you being sad didn’t excuse her missing a wonderful day with her mate.
“It’s not closing time yet” her eyes danced between the glass and you. “He was supposed to wait for me at the house”
“Guess he’s too eager to see you. He’s been dancing around the bakery for a good hour” you chuckled. “Elain, I mean it. Go. Have fun. I’ll see you on Monday”
“Y/N, I promise I don’t mind waiting. It’s not like it will unfreeze”
“And I promise I don’t mind at all. So, go, have fun and tell me about it on Monday” you gripped her hand softly over the counter, nodding to the waiting mal outside. “Come on, go”
Lucien was once more outside the bakery, the only visible part of him his red hair. He was covered in thick layers, but still managed to smile when Elain kissed your cheek and took her coat on the way out.
You didn’t have it in you to watch them be affectionate with each other, so you looked down at your task and decided it would be the last of the day.
It was hard watching all those couples walking hand in hand and remembering the feel of his warm, scarred hand in yours. To hear a man laughing and remember the unexpected laughs you dragged out of him sometimes. Even looking at the river was painful, because you could almost see the ghost of Azriel and you learning how to skate in a frozen lake in the Illyrian mountains a few years ago.
You had seen Azriel around a few times now, walking through your bakery and waving at you through the glass. Two times he had been waiting at the door when it was late at night, silently walking you home from afar without talking. Almost two months had passed by and your feelings were still as messed up as before.
Though you didn’t cry as much as before, and you were starting to get better, you still wondered.
If Azriel getting help would mean your relationship would be fixed, or if it was broken permanently. Deep in your thoughts, and used as you were to Azriel’s shadows, you didn’t notice how they tugged on your apron until the door sounded again.
Elain’s name didn’t leave your lips, because as soon as the door opened, you lost your breath. As if you had summoned him, Azriel walked through the door, beautiful as ever. He wasn’t in his usual training leather, but winter clothes that fit him as a glove. Instantly, you noticed he had lost weight. His shoulders were slumped and his body didn’t carry the usual grace of an Illyrian warrior.
“Hi”
His scarred hands, that had held you so many times and slaughtered so many enemies, were tucked in his coat’s pockets. You could feel the nervousness through the bond, the hesitance. Too stunned to answer, you only stared at him.
You had known that, eventually, he would talk to you. That you would have to do more than just wave at each other through the glass and stay silent when he sent you details through Elain. But still, you hadn’t expected it.
Unable to move, you only blinked.
“I saw Elain and Lucien heading out” he added, not looking away from you. “It’s a nice day outside”
Azriel hadn’t finished before one of his new shadows scaped his control, sneaking around the counter. The familiar ones, that had been by your side since he left, danced around the new intrusion. It lifted your apron, and crawled up your neck.
The cool feeling was the last of your worries, because no matter how much you willed yourself to say something, you couldn’t even tear your eyes from him.
The bond flickered between the two of you, once more. Knowing that it was one-sided, that he didn’t wear it like you did, made break your trance.
“She’s finished for the day” you explained, sounding way more confident that what you felt.
“It’s a nice day, yeah” he repeated, not giving you time to feel awkward before he continued “I thought that maybe you wanted to take a walk with me. It’s cold, but we could… get coffee. Or chocolate, if you want”
Azriel gave you a half, broken smile. Hearing his voice again made you take ten steps backward.
“I have things to do”
You looked down to your current task, which could be easily discarded. You had left much important things half-done because of him, and you would have done it normally without a second thoughts. But no matter how heartful the conversation at your door had been, you just knew you weren’t ready to have a conversation without getting angry.
You knew you weren’t ready to forgive him.
His new shadow gripped your wrist tightly before disappearing, and you heard Azriel’s doubt. He wanted to say something else, and you wanted too. Still, you fell back to your measuring and ignored the way your vision blurred, how your knees became weak again.
Maybe going back to your duties was the only way not to break down again.
The silence continued for a long minute. You couldn’t not feel his presence, the way his scent filled the bakery and made your stomach turn. Your heart recognized what you needed, what you wanted, and threatened to jump out of your chest.
Before you could regret your words, Azriel opened the door again.
“You’re forgetting the yeast” he said, his voice thick with emotion.
When you looked up again, he only smiled. You opened your mouth to tell him to wait, maybe to fuck off and never come again. You didn’t have time, because Azriel closed the door behind him and he was gone.
The first tear fell against the unformed dough, followed by many more. You wouldn’t be finishing the blueberry cake that afternoon, you realized, as you crunched behind the counter and cried.
-
There was a storm coming, and everyone in Velaris had had the same idea – run to the market, buy everything they needed for a few days, and crowd themselves at home with their loved ones. You were trying to follow the first part of the plan, not having anyone to go home anymore. And if that wasn’t enough reason to drag you down, the crowd was getting intense.
Velaris’ market was a beautiful place, full of shops and nice vendors. But that day, the space felt too small.
You already had a few bags with you, yet there were a few more to go. Wanting to finish as soon as possible, you had ignored the rational part of your brain and had gotten in the middle of the crowd. You had only managed to buy milk and pasta, and still had a long way to go.
After Azriel’s brief appearance, your life had been messier than before. He had come by the bakery at least five times more, always offering you some kind of plan you rejected. Going to the park, for a flight or to a coffee shop. Taking walks, watching the sunset or training together.
You lived now half-prepared to see him walking through your door again, and not having the heart to tell him no. You weren’t sure if that thought frightened or comforted you.
In your haste, you had almost forgotten to buy provisions for the storm, and had found yourself on the worst day to do them. Crowded, loud and suffocating, that was how you would describe the market at that moment.
The fact that most people ran with their children and family wasn’t helpful at all.
Most of the times, it was Azriel who did the last-minute shopping for you. He knew you didn’t like crowds, loud places, that you did best in your bakery where only five people were allowed at a time.
Another shove broke you down from your daydreaming, and you looked back to see a pregnant woman staring with her eyebrows furrowed.
“The line is moving” she spatted, pointing to the small space ahead of you. “If you don’t move with it, you should step out”
“Oh, no” you chuckled softly. You picked up the bags on the ground and took the two small steps that you were supposed to. “Sorry, I just thought I could take a little bit more space. It’s crowded here”
“I don’t mind crowds, so if you want to step back, let me get first. I’m in a hurry”
“Me too” you gave her a polite smile, mindful of her state.
The short distance that separated you from the customer on the front was certainly not enough, and she knew it. Still, she looked at you with disapproval. There were only five more people to go until it was your turn, you could buy your snacks and run to the next stall.
You thought you could ignore the glare at the back of your neck, and you did for a few minutes. Without meaning to, you thought how everything with Azriel was easier. Not only people wouldn’t dare to talk to him like that, but also, he assured you a good meter of distance between you two and the rest of the world with his wings.
The snacks on your hands almost fell when, not even two seconds after the man took three steps forward, you were shoved again.
That time, when you looked back, the woman was accompanied by her mate. His wings covered her from the people behind them.
“You should really step out of the line” she repeated. “You might have all the time in the word, but we are in a hurry”
“Me too. You can’t expect me to be glued to that man” you tried to explain, anxiety coiling in your stomach. “He just moved”
“And you didn’t, which proves my point. Besides, it’s obvious you only have a few things. We have more”
“Which should be enough reason to let me go first, not only because I was here before you” you shrugged, feeling even more uncomfortable when the male huffed a laugh. “Maybe it’s you who shouldn’t have come here today if you can’t wait in a line”
You weren’t a threat for the woman, and you were trying really hard to be polite and prove your point. Besides, being pregnant wasn’t an easy task, and you could tell she was far along. Maybe you should have let her pass, or maybe told her to fuck off.
But before you could argue further, something clicked in the male’s eyes, wide with recognition.
And you would have preferred for him to go full berserk mode on you. Because you recognized that look, you had been receiving them for a while now.
The male elbowed the woman’s side softly, pointing with his chin towards you. You didn’t have time to turn back and avoid the conversation, because he spoke.
“You’re the shadowsinger’s mate” he announced, loud enough to make a few heads turn.
“Oh” the woman finally connected the dots and lunged forward to grab your arm so tight you couldn’t shake her off. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you”
“It’s fine. Don’t worry” you pushed your arm back, trying to let go.
While the woman apologized, you couldn’t help but listen to the whispers. The same ones you had heard in your bakery and through the streets. Some of them thrown in your face by rude or nosy customers that didn’t understand the concept of privacy, others by bystanders.
At the end, it was the woman who said it out loud, confirming what everyone in the small circle that had formed at the cue was wondering about. She finally let go of your arm and crossed hers in front of her body.
The look of pity wasn’t as bad as the confirmation.
“He rejected you, right?” it wasn’t a question, not when you didn’t answer and she continued. “We heard you’ve been mated for almost a century and he doesn’t want the bond. Is that true?”
It wasn’t true, but you didn’t have the heart to correct her. Instead, you turned around and used your wing-less privileges to sneak through the crowd. You kept your head down, as if that could stop you from hearing the comments or feeling the stares.
People had come up with an alternative version where Azriel and you had been mated for decades, for centuries. Where you had cheated on him or he had changed you for someone else. You had even heard that he had bonded with another person and had kicked you out of the house, and that you had been the one rejecting the bond.
Each version was farthest from the truth than the last one, but they all hurt the same. The crowd didn’t seem to get thinner no matter how deep you got in the market. Once the people who had heard the conversation were left behind, new people crowded you, worried about the girl panicking and running through the middle of the market.
There were a few occasions where you thought you would fall, where you tripped and almost embarrassed yourself farther. You had almost made it to the back entrance of the market when you finally realized you were tripping no more. There was no longer a crowd around you, nor whispers or hands reaching your way.
It took you another few steps to fully stop and assess the situation. When you looked back to see where the crowd was, you were met with a broad chest inches away from you. Through tearful eyes, you recognized Azriel’s wings tucking you away from people, his mere presence pushing them away.
You met his hazel eyes, full of worry and regret. His hair was longer, covering his brow, but you found comfort in his crooked nose, in his freckles, that you knew so well.
You noticed in his hands your bags that had been left in the stall, a new one with the snacks you were about to buy.
“What – what are you doing here?” you choked out, too grateful for the sudden moment of peace to wonder about anything else.
“I felt you through the bond, a few hours ago. Anxious and…” he stopped himself, his eyes scanning every tear that marked your cheeks. “I was just getting here when it got worse. I heard most of it. I’m –”
“Don’t say you’re sorry” you interrupted him. “It’s not your fault”
Out of the many things that were indeed his fault, people not minding their own business wasn’t his. You were used to him blaming himself for everything, from wars in other courts to people fighting in the street. The response came naturally.
Your nose was cold and runny, your hands frozen in your pockets, and your feet hurt. Besides all of that, you felt all wrong. Because you enjoyed his presence, because what they said, and because you couldn’t help but calm down when he was close.
Azriel didn’t say anything when you took the bags from his hands, thanking him quietly. He didn’t say anything as more people walked away from him, either because of his wings or because they recognized him.
“You don’t like last minute shopping”
It was a pointless observation, but it was better than to comment on how afraid he had been when, just outside the market, he felt the bond snap with urgence. His shadows knew where you were, and that you needed him, but even he had trouble running through crowds. Azriel also couldn’t talk about how mad he had been at everyone in that stall, how his new shadows had turned off every light and almost chocked them to death.
Azriel wanted to say that you were probably cold because you didn’t like your own coats, and most of the times wore one of his. He wanted to hug you, too, to feel you between his arms after what felt like an eternity and promise you that it would end well.
But he couldn’t say anything more than the obvious.
“I had to” you answered.
With a furious fist, frustrated at life, at him and at you, you brushed the tears off your cheeks. You could tell that he wanted to keep talking, and you did too. Since your last encounter, you had come up with more conversations you should have.
You stared at each other for what seemed forever. There were details that you had almost forgotten in your sorrow – like his long lashes, that you teased him about. Or the freckle that snuck up to the corner of his left eye. The way his mouth rose higher from the right, and the small scar on his ear from where Cassian dared him to wear an earring.
Only his face was enchanting enough to help you forget about the day, about the weight of your chest. It was the first closing call from the market, that sounded through the public speakers, that broke you away.
“I should go”
“I should go”
You talked at the same time, and you smiled softly when you pointed to different directions. You didn’t miss how his eyes fell to your mouth, how his own lifted up too.
“I could walk you back” he offered, not tearing his eyes away from your mouth. “If you let me”
You didn’t answer immediately. Those last words, that he had repeated so often lately, almost had you saying yes. You could almost imagine how it would go – him walking by your side, one of his wings behind your back. His elbow brushing yours, and his gaze fixed on you.
Your smile dropped when you remembered the times you had walked just like that, tucked together. The times you had waked by yourself through Velaris with his imprint on you, and the times he had left without a trace of your presence.
Azriel knew the answer before you said it, and his shoulders dropped slightly.
“Sorry”
That time, you decided to turn away before he could. Taking the back exit was a poor choice, knowing it was farther from your house than the main one, but you couldn’t picture yourself walking through the market without Azriel keeping the crowds a step away.
So you turned around, gripped your bags tight and didn’t tear your eyes from the ground during the whole way back.
-
It wasn’t Azriel who found you the time everything changed, but you.
The cold and winter were over, the streets were clean and the sun was out. It was a perfect day to spend outside, and Elain seemed fixed in throwing you out of your own shop. She claimed that the bags under your eyes were as dark as the night, and that your skin was so pale that she couldn’t tell the flour stains apart from it.
“Just for the record, you’re kicking the owner of the bakery out of the bakery” you stated, looking at her once more from the door. “You do realize that shouldn’t happen, right?”
“I’m helping a friend come out of her ghost-like season” she replied, still decorating muffins. “And you do realize that most shops close on Sunday’s, right?”
“Certainly not a bakery” you looked to the empty fountain at her right. “If we do it together, we will – “
“If you touch one single item of this bakery, I’m banning you from the kitchen for a month”
You doubted she meant it, she could. But still, you sighed and turned around to open the door. You weren’t an extrovert, certainly not an outsider. Since you were a child, you liked your kitchen, your house, and your space. And none of those things were outside the door.
But you actually feared what the fae you left behind would do if you turned back. Elain had already hidden your apron so you couldn’t put it on, and had threatened to mismatch the soy milk with normal one.
Giving her a last, tight smile through the glass, you walked towards the center of Velaris.
Not many people were outside that soon on a Sunday morning, but you were glad for her insistence the moment the sun kissed your face. The cold weather was disappearing and you could feel warmth across your cheeks. It was still cold, and it would be for at least another week, but the change in the weather promised a happy spring.
You walked aimlessly around Velaris, stopping to watch the Sidra move every now and then. Your feet carried you through unfamiliar streets, all of them filled with colors and smells. The longer you walked, the healthier you felt. Each step felt like a weight lifted from your chest, and you even smiled to a few usuals you found in the streets.
The main square peeked through the streets. It wasn’t your usual destination, too crowded and not as pretty as other parts of the town. But you still walked through it, feeling at ease and happy.
It had happened before, usually the days before you started your cycle, and you should have known the feeling of ease had nothing to do with the weather or the walk. It had happened and it happened again, just as you rounded a corner to walk in the square.
If, by any chance, Azriel hadn’t noticed you coming, the shadows that tugged him away from where he was standing would have made it obvious.
His eyes widened when he saw you, and you felt that peaceful feeling making its home for the day. There was no sorrow, no sadness, and none of the usual feelings that lately you felt when it came to him.
You cursed yourself stupid when you realized that you cycle was coming, and that every year you were in a mood until Azriel showed up, your hormones demanding your mate.
“Y/N”
Your name fell from your mouth and just by hearing it you noticed something different. It was new, and at the same time, you thought you recognized it somehow. You looked to his empty hands, to the syphons on his shoulders and chest and truth-teller on his side.
It looked like you had interrupted something important to him. But instead of running away from him like the last two times, you took a step closer.
“Are you going on a mission?” you pointed with your chin to his leather, eyes stopping at his chest. There was that thing, that you couldn’t name.
“Just came back. I was…”
Azriel looked to the building he just exited and for a moment, in silence. You had met a bunch of times since the incident in the market, and you had started having longer conversations. About the weather, about your bakery, and even about his family, who you finally knew officially.
Certainly, your relationship had improved, although it wasn’t just fixed yet. When he didn’t answer, you were reminded of all the times he had kept things to himself, either out of fear or doubt.
He seemed to doubt between telling you and keeping it to himself. Any other time, you knew, he would have kept it to himself. He had done it, in the past – when you asked him about his job, or tried to understand his past. Many times where he had evaded the truth or his emotions.
Your mood, that had been in a rush since you left the bakery, fell a little at his silence. He looked torn and you were ready to leave, before he answered.
“This is Madja’s house. I meet her here so we can talk, usually during the week” he looked back at you, watching the surprise of his statement. “But something happened and I needed to talk to her”
“What happened?”
Azriel’s lips were pressed tight, debating on whether he should tell you or not. He wouldn’t have doubted about it a year ago – he wouldn’t tell you, because in his eyes, it would only hurt you more than he already had. But he had learnt new things, and had realized that a relationship was built on trust. And that his fears, his perception of the reality, had broken yours.
He had cut the mission short when he had noticed, though he wasn’t sure he had ever done something like that. Azriel didn’t know what had triggered it, why it happened in the Winter court and not anytime sooner.
Madja, of course, had had an answer ready – an answer that had left him staring at her door for long twenty minutes before you appeared.
“Kallias should have sent something to Rhysand, but he didn’t” he started, not sure why he was traveling so far from the event. “So I went to check. Turns out someone must have taken it and, well, I tried to…”
He trailed off before he could finish, aware of your confusion. You never talked about what he did for Rhysand, in any court. No matter how big or small was the assignment, he didn’t tell you about it.
But that wasn’t what your confusion was about, at least not all of it. You couldn’t possibly notice because you had given it for granted since the beginning, but Azriel did notice. He noticed the change as soon as it happened, and babbled when he explained to Rhysand what he should have been feeling for years.
Had explained to Madja moments ago, who had given him a knowing smile and a proud nod.
“I accepted the bond” he confessed, continuing before you could say anything else. “I don’t know how, or why, but I was there and suddenly I was hit with – with this in my chest, and I don’t know why it wouldn’t happen sooner”
“You accepted the bond” you repeated, looking between his chest and face.
“I don’t know how, or why now. I was, thinking… And it hit me” Azriel smiled sadly, not saying what his thoughts were about – what they had been about since that night. “I didn’t want to tell you, because, this is, you don’t have to do anything now. Me accepting the bond doesn’t change what I did”
Azriel hadn’t meant to tell you, neither to be so vague and ridiculously nervous about it.
It had been a surprise when, in the middle of a conversation, he felt it. He had been thinking about you, because there were flowers and they were pretty against the cold weather, and to him, you were the prettiest thing the Cauldron had made. One moment Kallias had been going through the last movements of the package and the next the high lord was looking at him with raised brows.
Congratulating him for something that should have happened six years ago.
“It’s not that I didn’t want the bond before, Y/N” he continued when you didn’t say anything. “I promise you, I didn’t know how to accept it. I didn’t know that I deserved it”
Azriel had thought, and he still wanted to, that you so pretty that you were meant for someone else. That it was borrowed time, that he didn’t deserve the bond just as he didn’t deserve you. With Madja and Rhys, they had had deep conversations about his mental health, about his version of life where he lived through a glass of pain and rejection.
As he stared at your surprised form, he tried not to let hope leak into his heart. He knew it didn’t fix what was broken, but he hoped it was the first step of a long recovery to win you back.
Only if you could confirm or deny, instead of stare at him.
“Say something” Azriel finally broke, almost begged. “Whatever you want. Just say something”
And you wanted to, because wasn’t that what you had wanted? You had fooled yourself lately thinking about may what ifs. What if he had accepted the bond in the bagging, what if he had told you that he wasn’t fine, that he was broken and needed help.
What if you had helped him and not rushed things when he wasn’t ready. Now, it felt like the Cauldron was giving you that opportunity, only that you didn’t know how to react.
You finally looked away from him and decided to give an experimental tug on the bond, to see if anything had changed.
It had.
“Az”
It was a chuckle, maybe the beginning of a cry. It was anger but also relief because what came back from that tug wasn’t what you usually felt. It was stronger, solid, as if there was a physical string between your bodies that kept you linked.
Usually, it was just an intense feeling that was enough for you. But now that you felt him tugging back, felt him loving you, you couldn’t hold back another laugh. He shoved down through it everything he felt – adoration, love, joy. Many fears that had you stumbling towards him, and pain.
So much pain that your smile dropped. His dropped too, and you felt the bond getting fainter.
“That’s another reason. I didn’t want you to feel… that” Azriel retreated the bond farther. “I have so many fears and pains here that I couldn’t even imagine sharing them with you. And that – “
“You don’t have to feel ashamed” you cut him off, your voice hoarse. “I love you the same”
Words were unnecessary when you hugged his middle and buried yourself in his chest. He curled around you, like he had done so many times.
The channel snapped open again, and you just closed your eyes tightly. It was an endless source of emotions, and it broke you that most of them were bad. There was rejection, from so many people that it felt like an angry, black bull coming your way. Sadness that felt overwhelming and never ending, always coming in waves when Azriel didn’t expect it.
You also felt disgust, and you only held him tighter when you discovered it was self-disgust. Not only at the things that he had done, but also at what had been done to him. The scars on his hands, the shadows around him. He had hated himself for so long he had forgotten how to love.
But then, at the bottom, there was something bright, and that part you realized it was only dedicated to you. There was his family too, but it wasn’t as intense as his love for you. Everything that he lacked during his life, that he yearned for, was tucked where it mattered the most.
“I love you” he whispered against your head, softly. “I love you”
You didn’t answer, just raised your head until you could brush your lips against him. Later, you would have time to blame the cycle, which you wouldn’t get for another two months, or the emotions of the moment. But you knew it was just what you needed, what you both deserved, when you felt him kissing back.
At the beginning, it was just his lips against yours, and it was enough. Your noses brushed each other, you got on your tiptoes and his wing cocooned both of you. His hands only pressed you tighter against his body when you moved your lips against his, brushing the edge of your tongue against his bottom one.
Azriel could barely keep himself straight when you silently asked for permission to open his mouth, which he happily obliged.
From that moment, it was crashing. The kiss was only a physical proof of your feelings traveling through the mated bond, so wild and intense you couldn’t tell which one was his or yours.
“I’m sorry, darling” he whispered against your lips, giving you no time to reply. “I’m sorry for hurting you, for being a coward. I’m sorry”
“I forgive you. We don’t keep secrets anymore” you managed to say between kisses.
“Never” Azriel answered while leaving kisses on your cheeks and nose.”
“And we’ll talk about our emotions, and feelings. You’ll tell me about your life when I ask”
“Always”
“You won’t close off to me” you pulled his head away and made him look at you.
While you held his face between your hands, Azriel smiled. It was a different smile from the previous ones, from the ones you had seen so far. It was carefree, loving, and yours.
Your thumb brushed the corner of his eye, his upper cheek, the border of his nose.
“I’m here, Azriel. Always. So you don’t have to hide anything from me, or to be ashamed or afraid. I’m here” you closed the distance once more, controlling the kiss by holding onto his face. “Right around the corner”
“Right around the corner” he repeated, dipping his head and sealing all his promises with another kiss.
Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated
Soulmates are usually made within the same reality. It is a very rare occurrence that someone gets a soul mark for a person in another dimension. Almost all of them never find away into that world. How could they? Magic does not exist with in our realm, or so we thought. Well…. turns out you just need know where to look.
I dreamt all day, everyday of being in these worlds created by astounding books I knew without doubt I did not belong in this world. My heart ached when I disappeared into my books, only to come back to this reality. On my 21 birthday when everyone receives their soul mark, it was confirmed when I got my soul mark. “Azriel shadow singer” appeared across my rib cage, I was not long for this world. I knew exactly where I belonged but how would I get there. I was determined to find away. I spent countless hours scouring the internet trying to find away to get there.
I went to work and asked my best friend. I walked over to Jordan and whispered “ I need to show you something.” And headed toward the bathroom, she was two steps behind. Once inside I checked the stalls then locked the bathroom door. I lifted and showed her my soul mark. Once she read it, she gasped with realization. I look her dead in the face, “ I need to find a way.” she contemplates many things for a moment and says “ I may know a way. Meet me outside after work.” All through out our shift I see her texting someone vigorously.
After we are closed we are walking outside to her car. When I see a tall, gorgeous, black haired, blue eyed woman leaning on the trunk. I give Jordan a quizzed look. She holds up her hand and goes over speaking in hushed tone before beckoning me over. As I approach the women is very blunt and blurts “ I can make it happen but I can not determine when or where you will appear.” I nod “ I want to try anyways.” She closes her eyes starts this song like chant and it sounds like he voice doubles and echos inside my head. It disorients me so I close my eyes. Finally when her voice is gone and I open my eyes I am still here and she is gone. I look at Jordan with confusion and sadness. All she utters is, “ Give it time.”
I go home and take shower, decompressing from the day I have had. Once I lay down to go to sleep, it comes at me all at once and I don’t even remember when my eyes closed. As I dream I seem to fall through this endless darkness that seems to move and hum with life around me. It seems to think before an immense, excruciating and nauseating pain erupts from my back and angel-like wings begin to grow, with feathers of black and gold. I scream in pain as they finish growing. Then I feel this power flow through me that feels like life itself. This golden light erupts from every pore in my body, then disappears. Then suddenly I am yanked from the darkness and thrown on a cold hard floor, sopping wet. I look around as the whole room is silent and all eyes are on me in shock. I try to figure out how the faces belong to. I see two other girls in sopping wet dresses. One whose face is more soft, mousey I know that to be Elain, so I deduce the other to be Nesta. The hulk of a man lying on the floor with shredded wings is Cassian and Azriel with the shadows that clinging to him.
I’m interrupted when the King growls at me, “ Who are you?” I move to stand no realizing the state of my undress. Feyre moves towards me and covers me with her cloak, I nod to her in thanks. I look up at the man on the thrown and say, “ I was someone in this other world, but’ I look back at my wings and then back to him ‘ I am someone different now. I don’t feel the same, i am not the same. Better but not at the same time.” I look down at me hands. “ what do you mean?” I don’t even have to respond. Because my hands start emitting pure energy and light. The whole room collectively sucks in air. The events between Tamlin, Feyre and Rhysand have already transpired because she stands next to him and not her mate.
I stepped back my eyes darting to the door, wanting to make a break for it. I knew I wouldn’t make it far with these new wings and barely wearing any clothes . My eyes then landed on Azriel praying he could feel the mating bond, when our eyes connected. He has a sharp in take of breathe, “ it’s not possible.” Is all he said. He shows no effort to move in my direction. My head dropped, Rhysand speaking in my mind come to my side. So I moved to towards him and the King ask “ where are you going?” Rhysand’s confident voice spoke “ she is spoken for and will be coming back with me.” The King growled but did not argue. Rhys wrapped his arm around me as he guided me out of the throne room. Nesta helped Elain follow and Azriel helped Cassian.
~time skip~
I have been wasting away to nothing in my room at the house of wind. I didn’t leave, Azriel refused to talk to me or see me for reasons unbeknownst to me. Also I refused to let in the light that my body needed, that it craved so desperately. That’s another reason that I could feel myself slowly dying because I had neither of the things that I longed for, the things that made me want to breathe and see the sun.
One morning I awoke from a deep sleep to hear arguing down the hall. “ Go see her damn it, Az!” Azriel whispers something back in hushed tones. Cassian was not a happy with his response so he roars back, “ She is dying! And a lot faster than Elain or Nesta! You have a mate and you are allowing her to die!” His volume grew seeming to shake the whole tower.
In an effort to make them stop fighting, I tried to stand. Not knowing I couldn’t from the state of my body and the weight of my wings, I collapse to the floor. The pain from the impact reverberates through my body, causing me to yell out in pain.
I hear the door swing open and rushed footstep, but I don’t look up. I keep my hair in front of my face as curtain between me and him so he won’t see the tears running down my face. I can't bare to look up and not see the man I really need in front of me. I feel a hand brush my hair behind my ear and when he whispers gently and sensitively, “ Look at me.”… My eyes timidly raise to meet hazel eyes that gleam in the rising suns light.
I've read a sort of sugar daddy vibe with Andrew Garfield, and now here I am.
Masterlist
Andrew loved days like today. Where he had no work and was able to laze around and about and dote on you.
He held your hands in his tightly and kept you close.
He booked out stores to have you all to himself in the privacy of a fitting room, hands pressed against the mirror as the heat built around you.
He would stroll out as casual as ever, leaving you to finish trying on clothes. Andrew sat comfortably on a small sofa, texting his agent and manager about a new project, when a small squeal brought his attention back to you.
A smile broke out on his face as you pushed the curtain open, a grin wide on your face. “Isn’t it pretty?” You did a quick twirl, almost skipping over towards another mirror.
Andrew hummed, incredibly pleased with the image before him. You had turned your attention away from him, inspecting the outfit on the small runway before a large grand mirror. Twisting and turning, you looked over at the outfit. “Very pretty, indeed,” he uttered quietly.
Your eyes met him in the mirror, and watched as he rose back to his feet. Andrew’s eyes drank you up, gliding over the fabric that hugged you so perfectly.
He doesn’t say much, just saunters over in that gorgeous deep burgundy suit that you loved so much. Andrew pauses behind you, smiling softly at you in the mirror. He raises a hand and very softly, traces the outline of your body. A quiet chuckle rumbles out of his chest when you sigh and your eyes flutter shut.
Andrew lowers his head, his lips ghosting over your jaw. He barely grazes your earlobe when another soft sound escapes your mouth. “What was that?” He hummed, lowering his lips again. “You look so wonderful,” his breath tickled your ear. Andrew eyes the outfit once more, “This is gonna cost me, but you just look so, deliciously, perfect in it.” He fully pressed his lips against the crook of your neck, smirking at the quiet sound that had suddenly not been quiet. “Does this come in another color? I think we should get this in every color,” his eyes raked over your form in the mirror. “I can imagine pulling this off you a million times, in a million colors, and a million ways.”
Your eyes open and you look at his reflection, “Why don’t you start now?” Andrew’s smile was small, but inviting.
“Come on,” he grabbed your hand and tugged you along towards the dressing room. Andrew chuckles darkly, “It’s a good thing I booked the store out for the day, hmm?”
Warning(s): sexual tension, slight smut, death, violence
You ride your motorcycle all through Gotham City when you run across Wayne Manor. You knock on the door when you hear a somewhat familiar voice. “Who is it?!”
You look around when you see a camera and you wave with a smirk on your face. “I’m Y/N, Y/L/N. Is that you Alfred?”
Alfred ecstatically says, “Ah, one second!!”
You see the gates of Wayne Manor open up before you and you drive your motorcycle to the front of the mansion. You park your motorcycle and walk up the stairs to the door. Before you can even knock Alfred opens the door with a smile on his face. Alfed says and asks, “Hello Ms. Y/L/N. How may I help you today?”
You say, “I know Bruce is Batman...”
Alfred says, “No h-”
You interrupt Alfred and say, “I know Alfred. I know you want to protect me but it was only a matter of time. You knew this whole time. You couldn’t help it Alfred. I know you did it for my well being.”
Alfred looks at you in your eyes and says, “Thank you for understanding. I assume you may want to know where Bruce is. Well, he is downstairs. I shall walk you to the elevator.”
You hug Alfred tight and say, “Thank you dad.”
He smiles a little and hugs you back. You both walk together and Alfred waves bye as you go down. You walk down the long hallway and finally see the light when you see Bruce and you say, “Hello... Bruce or should I say Batman.”
Bruce stares at you with intense eyes. (photo above)
Bruce says, “Who told you??”
You say, “Nobody. I know you knew that I would have figured it out eventually.”
Bruce says, “I never wanted to know.”
You ask, “Why?’
Bruce says, “I don’t have to explain any of that to you.”
You look at him and says, “Explain it to me Bruce.”
Bruce ignores you and you say “Wow Bruce, I didn’t even think I was someone you couldn’t speak to anymore. I guess we aren’t close anymore. That explains a lot of why I haven’t seen you in years. You know what... whatever Bruce.”
You roll your eyes and walk back to take the elevator. Before you take the elevator you say, “See you at my mom’s funeral tomorrow...”
You look at Bruce and he keeps his back to you. You get on the elevator and tear up a little in the eyes.You swipe them swiftly and see your dad. You hug him tight and say, “I’ll see you tomorrow dad.” You leave and drive off.
The next day....
You look out the window remembering what happened with Bruce when you feel a tight squeeze on your hand. You look at your dad and smile weakly as your eyes are red from crying. Albert says, “Everyhting will be alright. Your mom loved you and you know how proud I am of you. You will alawys be my little paw child.”
You smile and kiss your dad on the cheek. You guys finally make it to the funeral entrance when you get out with your dad. Alfred says, “I’m gonna be in there okay?”
You nod and look at all the people who came to see your mother but Bruce wanlt there until you hear a car door close. You look over to see Bruce closing his car door. (gif below)
You look at him and he looks over at you, but you turn away. You walk into the funeral and sit next to your dad. Everyone is settled and listens to the service.
2 Hours later...
You hold your father’s hand as everyone gets up and leaves the funeral service. He says, “I’ll see you later tonight or at least give a call okay?”
You nod yes and Alfred walks away. You look at everyone leaving when you see Bruce standing there looking at you. When Bruce starts walking toward you a car crashes through the building.Bruce snaps his concerned look back at you (gif below)
Bruce starts running towards you and shields you. When you both look up you guys see Alfred’s dead body attached to the vehicle. You scream, “NO!!”
You try to run to the body when Bruce stops you and says, “It’s a trap. Riddler striked again.”
You start to bretahe heavy and Bruce sits you down as he runs toward the vehicle. He reads the note “I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the lover’s tree huh?? First, its mommy. Then, it’s daddy. I wonder whose next Bruce?? Do you know her?”
Bruce looks on the back of the card to see your face on it and he suddenly hears your muffled scream. Your taken from henchmen before Bruce could get you. You are dragged to a warehouse when you are drugged. You eye seem heavy when you finally knock out.
4 hours later...
You open your eyes slwoly with a dazed look within your face when you see a man with Leather stretching tape. (Gif below)
You look at him and looks at you. He says, “Ah, Y/N. You’re finally up sleepyhead. You know I’ve dreamt of that face between my palms for such a long time. I see Bruce has your attention, but why not go for someone smart?”
He walks up to you and rips the tape off your mouth. He says, “I know you like it aggressive.”
He starts laughing maniacally and says, “I know you found out that Bruce is Batman. A- a so called hero. You were supposed to be mine, but since you won’t listen maybe just maybe you will. Since you love Bruce so much now you’ll both have dead parents. Now you’re just like him.”
You start to cry when you hear a beeping sound. Riddler starts to laugh when he hears a knock at the door. Riddler hears a music box play a familiar tune when you see Bruce behind the door in the dark as Riddler opens the door. You both make eye contact. Riddler says, “What a stupid pla-.”
Bruce knocks Riddler out with multiple hits, swipes his leg, and knocks riddler out. The police barge in. They put Riddler in handcuffs and take him out. You look at Bruce and befor he can say anything you kiss him. You feel him kiss you back. When you both pull apart you say, “I forgive you.”
Bruce puts his forehead against yours. You walk outside and to see Jim Gordon. You tell him all the details and they drive you home. You sit on the couch and try to process everything when you see a note on the TV stand. You feel uneasy when you see the Batman logo. You open the note and start to read it.
The next day...
You walk up into the higher floor of a mysterious building where you see Batman. You walk up to him when you stnad in front of him. “Bruce”
He makes eye contact with you and you stare back at him. He says, “Y/N.”
(Gif Below)
You say, “ I love you Bruce.”
Bruce looks at you and says, “I lo-”
He stops and then says, “We can’t”
You say, “Bruce, I don’t care about the danger.”
Bruce says,” I will never forgive myself for what happened to your father. I will never ever forgive myself if something happens to you.”
You say, “Well you’re not the only one with a background. Who do you think is Catwoman?”
Bruce eyes widen when he realizes. You smirk and say “Remember my dad called me paws. It’s for a reason. I’m working with you and you have no other choice.”
You start to smile and Bruce shows a hint of a smile. You start to laugh a little when you ask Bruce, “Are we in this together or not?”
Bruce sighs and you put your hand out. Bruce shakes your hand. You pull him close and say, “I’ve always had my fair share of fantasies about you. Wanna make it come true?”
Bruce picks you up and your wrap your legs around him and you guys make it to his manor and make love onto his bed. As you both brethe heavy and kiss with passion you start to moan. Bruce sticks it in deeper and you gasp. Bruce bites the nape of your neck and doesn’t stop until he hears you scream for more. You scratch his back and leave marks. You both continue to make love...
3 hours later...
You and Bruce are cuddling and looking up at the night sky through his seeing ceiling. You guys smile and he caresses your face. Bruse says, “I love you Y/N.”
You smile and say “I love you too Bruce.”
You peck him on the lips when an alarm goes off and the Batman ligh signal is shown in the sky. You both get dressed and take the elevator up. You look at Bruce and ask, “You ready?”
Bruce does one nod of yes and then both run to the Batmobile. Bruce turns on the Batmobile and both drift off into Gotham to beat crime...
All stories written on this blog are purely fan fiction and when I write about real people it is once again purely fiction. I don’t know them in real life and all of my ideas are my own. Reproducing the stories published on this blog without consent will be considered plagiarism.
I write for free but please do like, reblog and comment on my work and if you like you can always talk to me. I really do love talking about random things with all of you :)
Things I Will Not Write About
Please also note that some of these works are not my best and are really terrible so I apologise for that. Also note that a while ago Tumblr deleted many of my requests in my inbox, so I’m really sorry I never got round to writing them and publishing them.
Some requests are closed at this moment of time.
Happy readings 💛
OC Stories
Agape (Eddie Diaz OC Series) (Also found on Wattpad) (Published)
Before You Go (Steve Harrington OC Series) (Only found on Wattpad) (Published)
Dusk Till Dawn (Marvel OC Series) (Only found on Wattpad) (Published)
If I Stay (Harry Potter Series) (Only found on Wattpad) (Editing)
In Love, You Drown (Outerbanks Series) (Only found on Wattpad) (Planning)
This Is Everything I Didn’t Say (Jess Mariano OC Series) (Also found on Wattpad) (Planning)
9-1-1
F1 Drivers
Footballers
Gilmore Girls
Harry Potter
Marvel
OBX
Peaky Blinders
Stranger Things
Tumblr Series
To be continued...
All gifs/images do not belong to me, all credits go to the designers
Would write for other characters but they’re not on here :)
