#anyways i think it would be cool if some people joined!

[zosanniz]

hello! I was wondering if u could write something with the straw hats and a fem reader where there kinda muscular and has some tattoos some big some small, like she’s not very ladylike and is very ruthless. and she has a accent like zani from wuwa (Wuthering waves). pretty pleaseeee! Thanks!

:p I forgot chopper but I only write platonically for him anyway so

Luffy doesn’t care, I mean we all know Luffy doesn’t judge a book by its cover unless it’s like a very strange trait to have ? and Luffy could care less if you aren’t lady like. He eats like a 5 year old. He doesn’t ever really comment on your appearance because I really can’t imagine him even thinking about things like that but he likes squeezing your biceps! As for being ruthless, well… things may change the longer you’re with Luffy. He’ll constantly tell you “don’t be so mean!” Or “hey-! He may be our enemy but don’t be so mean!” being around luffy just naturally makes you either softer or in laws case, slowly go insane.

Zoro on the other hand probably sees you as a good opponent because of your appearance, so lotsa training. Ultimately doesn’t care what you look like either though because like luffy Zoro doesn’t care for appearances, but he does use ones appearance to infer information. As somebody who used to collect bounties, judging people based off of their appearance was very important and can be a good survival tactic too. He doesn’t care too much for your ruthless nature as Zoro can admit he was before joining Luffy. But he may tell you to dial it back every once in awhile.

Sanji loves it of course-! He doesn’t care how ruthless you are and he has no qualms with you beating the crap out of him next! That being said, Sanji has a personal enjoyment for all kinds of women in all different shapes and sizes, so while the classic “dainty” women are the type he fawns over most of the time, he loves a taste of a strong woman like yourself and absolutely hangs on your arms like the clingy love chef he is.

Usopp was probably terrified of you at first. Hes gotten somewhat used to you, and finds your appearance scarily attractive. However he will never get used to your more ruthless nature and kinda like how he’ll yell at Robin for freaking him out, he’ll yell at you for being so aggressive towards enemies because you’re scaring him.

Nami would find your appearance cool from the get go. Like damn.. a strong looking chick with muscles? That’s hot..! And then she’ll realize she kinda sounds like a creepy old man and turns off her brain. She wouldn’t take kindly to your ruthless nature given that arlong was like that himself, but if you mean well she won’t get on you too much for it. But she’s definitely gonna bonk you on the head for being “too cruel!” to enemies.

Vivi also wouldn’t take kindly to the ruthless bit… please be nice… it would probably scare her and remind her of crocodile a little bit which might anger her. So she would scold you for that. She was probably nervous meeting you at first, with your appearance, but now she loves just hugging you and feeling your arms wrap around her.

Robin does judge off appearance, like Zoro. Since she’s done it a long time in order to survive. It’s instinctual but she is of course far more open to trusting people nowadays (but still not immediately trusting like Luffy). That being said she compliments your appearance a lot, finding it attractive. Your ruthless nature is something she wouldn’t approve of, but she is also aware of how she was before joining the crew so she keeps an ion pen mind. Anyone can change.

Franky probably tells you to “chill tf out” when you’re being too ruthless. Aside that loves your appearance and thinks you’re really freakin cool, kinda fangirls over your appearance sometimes.

Brook just finds you attractive immediately. Like first words spoken is of course about your panties.. anyways, loves your muscles, since he doesn’t have a lot of it… being bone and all.. your ruthless nature scares him at first but he gets used to it. “Oh my gosh girl! Chill!”

Jinbe doesn’t take kindly to your ruthless nature because .. well… arlong. Takes him back to those days, but he knows you mean well, so he just gives you his humble advice. He doesn’t care too much for appearances so your looks don’t intimidate him.

[mikotos-nape-nibbler]

thoughts on Fuuta's T3 album cover

The Appare March an homage to The Purge March. homages are tributes to what already exists and you transform it into your own style.

Appare 1. something remarkable; something excellent and splendid 2. a word used to give praise; well done the origin of the word "appare" is from 哀れ (aware) "pathetic". あは (aha, from historical kana spelling of 哀れ "ahare") means "pity", a word that expresses all the emotions that spring up from the bottom of the heart, including joy and sadness. "appare" sounds softer (because of that glottal stop っ), a more sensitive way to say "aware/ahare" so it's been said that it's been used as a word of admiration/did "appare" start to mean "praise" since after the Middle Ages/the start of the Kamakura period (1183-1333, emergence of samurai, establishment of fuedalism, expansion of Buddhism). the way its kanji was chosen was apparently irrelevant to its meaning so it just has cool looking kanji. most people don't write it with kanji anyway

Voice Drama Name: 火宅之境 火宅之境 (kataku no sakai) is a 4 character compound that means "boundary of the fire house". it basically means a situation full of disaster or a parable of the world since it invokes the imagery of something on fire, a house engulfed in flames within. it's in reference to a buddhist teaching in which the world is always suffering thus is [a house] always on fire

Official EN Translation of 03's VD: THE SECOND COMING "The Second Coming is the Christian and Islamic belief that Jesus Christ will return to Earth after his ascension to Heaven. The idea is based on messianic prophecies and is part of most Christian eschatologies. In Islamic eschatology, Jesus is also believed to return in the end times." (Wikipedia)

false christs (09 to himself), famine (haruka + a lot of prisoners look like they've lost weight), persecution (since the start of MILGRAM), deaths as skysliver aptly put "Things going to shit is usually taken as a sign that Jesus is going to come soon to save the (religious) masses. Everyone else is screwed though." for Fuuta and Amane, what has happened in MILGRAM might be a sign of the second coming/the end times/doomsday. besides all the prisoners know there's only 3 trials, so considering MILGRAM has been their only world for 5 years now and it's the third trial, it makes sense for them to think that the end is near. and it makes sense why Fuuta's trying to convert others to help them from being left behind from salvation. CLEAR ROADS AHEAD APPARADE, THIS DOGMA CAN'T BE STOPPED apparade sounds like a homonym for "a parade" dogma means "a principle or set of principles laid down by an authority as incontrovertibly true". the word has religious connotations. since the roads are clear/no obstacles ahead, the dogma that Fuuta/Amane will bring in this parade can't be stopped

iuta -> iūtā latin for "coming from having been helped/aided" looks like its written in a stylized Gara Gara Bold font. font style is a Roman type -> Old-style/humanist based + also Blackletter type Old-style typefaces = variations in line weight (thick/thin strokes in the letters) Blackletter typefaces = based on manuscript letterings. popular in Gutenberg's printing. nowadays Blackletter typefaces are used on metal/hip hop music the head of the "i" does make it look like a flame on a candle making it look like an "f"

he looks like he lost weight. maybe he's fasting for penance, voluntary self-punishment inflicted as an outward expression of repentance for having done wrong.

i already know i'm forgiving 03 unless it turns out he murdered/human sacrificed shidou for the sake of salvation/religion. throughout his life he hasn't had any adequate support which left him vulnerable to join cults, cults of internet bubbles, cults of organized religion, etc. he withdraws into an articulated organized community that assists individuals who feel lost in some manner (or rejected by the milieu they live within) [read more]. unforgiving him would only further push him into religious dogma since unforgiveness = persecution. most people don't realize that rejecting people in a cult only makes them rely on the cult doctrines further- it further solidifies the belief that outsiders are hostile, thus danger. the way people get out of cults is to be an open support for them, to have someone there when the person needs them. the way people join cults is to have no support system feelings of hopelessness/loneliness and, while in that vulnerable state, cults offer a community of support and system of faith, ergo hope, which can be appealing.

[kijetesantakalu-lanpan]

hi!! ive been working on a minecraft server/collaborative worldbuilding project for A Long While! it’s gonna be like a Year by the time i release the public beta

civcubed is basically a collaborative sandbox to worldbuild societies in—conflicts, economy, varied natural conditions, and a lot of other forces that shape societies to be unique! i thought it would be cool to see a bunch of people building semi-realistic societies within minecraft

anyways i hope some of y’all come to check this out! >:3

[tamagotchikgs]

i had so many repeat dreams from years ago when i was sleeping it was so strange

[rosefoot-fr]

I'm back

[marlynnofmany]

In the interest of not derailing this already-long-and-awesome thread, here are some more details! (Paging @sparrows-corner and any other interested parties.)

So in my first semester of college, I took an Intro to Psychology class. I didn't expect anything special; it was just one of those general education courses that everybody was supposed to take at some point. But it turned out amazing.

What the general public didn't know at that point was someone in the college administration had screwed up and forgotten to assign a teacher to this class. Until a week before class. When several students emailed to ask why that detail was missing in the online listing.

The administration panicked, scrambled for someone-anyone-omg-who-can-drop-everything-and-teach-this-class. They called recently-graduated owners of Masters Degrees in teaching.

They found Sandy.

She was qualified and available, and much older than the average recent grad, with the confidence to go with it. This was still a daunting task, though, and she agreed on one condition: that she team-teach the class with a friend of hers who was still working on finishing his degree.

Having no other choice and seeing no real problem with this, the administration agreed. And thus was born the most glorious educational comedy act in my entire academic career. The two of them were a delight. They knew all the stuff they needed to teach, and they knew a great deal more, and they delivered lectures in a way that had everyone paying eager attention. It was great.

This friend, by the way, was awesome in his own right. While Sandy was a curly-haired white lady around middle age, Wayne was a black guy who (1) dressed in impeccable suits and (2) had cerebral palsy.

I think a lot of 18-year-old minds were quietly enlightened about a few things just from watching these two banter back and forth, one with joints more wobbly than the other. Wayne told a memorable anecdote at one point about stopping by a grocery store in sweat pants instead of his usual classy wear. The cashier asked some gentle question about what he spent his time on, assuming that he had some sort of carer following him around. The expression on her face when he told her that he taught college was one I'll never forget, and I didn't even see it.

Anyways, at the end of this semester, the two teachers asked a few of us smart kids if we wanted to be TAs (teaching assistants) for the next semester. Since most of us had already become friends during the make-a-group-and-discuss-things portions of the class, this sounded like a party that would look good on our records later. And it really was.

I TA'd for that class a few times in a row, with my buddies and the two very cool teachers. We met up outside of class for holiday parties and everything.

And, since this was during the time the Lord of the Rings trilogy was first coming out in theaters, we all dressed up in costume and went to an early screening together.

Wayne drove. His handicap placard meant we got to park at the front, which was pretty awesome.

Now, I'd met people before who knew more LotR lore than I did, but they all paled in comparison to Sandy. As I said in the notes on that other post, she shared some stories of her youth with us. When she was fourteen, she ran away to join a hippie commune. She already knew fluent elvish, and she used that to help the commune's drug-runners stay out of the clutches of the cops, by translating their drug notes into a language the cops couldn't read. With a start like that, it was unsurprising that she still knew elvish now, along with all sorts of fascinating deep lore.

She had a limited edition book that looked shockingly expensive. She made beeswax candles for all the TAs as holiday gifts, with our names written on them in elvish. I still have mine somewhere.

I haven't heard from any of these lovely people in a long time, since college moves on and so does life, but I will treasure those memories forever. I hope Sandy and Wayne and the others are doing well. They deserve the best.

[kazusys]

— kissing under the mistletoe.

kissing genshin men under the mistletoe! / fluff / no cw / other: you’re not dating in all scenarios! (❕) a/n: i did NOT proofread. but this took me a bit… hope you guys enjoy nonetheless! happy holidays! :)

characters included: albedo, childe, cyno, diluc, kaeya, kazuha, lyney, scaramouche, tighnari, wriothesley, xiao, and zhongli.

wc: ~4.4k words

“relax, it’ll be fine!” he said. “just lead her to the mistletoe when you two are chatting at the party; after all, you both are probably going to stick together the entire time anyways.”

that was kaeya’s advice. of course albedo took it, considering the probabilities of it working due to his insane roster of people fawning over him for just existing. of course he’d be more educated in this area.

but how would he be able to enact said advice if the guy who gave the advice in the first place was busy taking up all your time at the stupid party?

albedo was ready to just head home at this point. there was no point in waiting for you if he was most likely going to chicken out in the end anyways.

a boisterous laugh from kaeya brought albedo out of his little slump as he looked over, watching as the guy pushed you lightly his direction. you seemed… almost bashful. it was cute.

you shuffled through the people dancing and walking around before stopping in front of him.

“hey, ‘bedo.” you smile.

“(y/n), it’s good to see you here.” albedo returned, realizing that besides the initial hello you two shared before you were whisked away elsewhere, this was the first time he’d been able to talk to you tonight.

“good to see you too, i was thinking— there’s this place i wanna show you outside of the party, would you want an escape for a bit?”

he followed you immediately.

the spot was serene. the backdrop of all the constellations and the hanging moon in the sky were in full view, a couple trees here and there adorning the already pleasing landscape. albedo wished he had brought something to paint with, but a mental remembrance would have to do for now.

“it’s… stunning.” he murmured out as you continued walking. you went over to a tree whose leaves leaned forward just a bit, providing some shade. you sat down under it, patting the ground next to you.

this was his sort of paradise. the cool breezes, the quiet atmosphere, the world seemingly frozen as you two sat so close that one movement would have your arms brushing together.

he made that one movement.

you gave him a glance before seemingly staring at the sky. “look up in the branches of the tree.”

he did so without a word, his eyes zeroing in at the singular, small irregularity amongst the greenery of the tree.

mistletoe.

a light blush spread across his face, his eyes widening as they faced yours, which were already staring at him. he forced his expression to go back to being as neutral as he could manage, before cupping your face with one hand and bringing you in for a kiss.

needless to say, kaeya was a good matchmaker.

the holidays have always been a heartwarming time with ajax’s family, not to mention that ever since you joined him, he waits twice as excitedly to see them again.

he loves the domestication of you with his younger siblings, his parents, him; in a warm house with snowflakes floating down amongst the scenic landscape outside and everyone inside away from the troubles of the world. all his loved ones, together, in one place, safe.

taking your hands and spinning you around, he lets go of one to hold your hand as you both sprint to the house ahead. you love how his eyes shine as he knocks on the door, his younger siblings tackling him and squeezing you tightly to the ground with his parents reprimanding them and herding them back inside.

you’re grateful for the warmth of the house as you shed off your winter gear and help ajax get off his as his siblings spout off with questions for him that they couldn’t fit in the letters sent back and forth between them.

at one point, they bring their big brother in to whisper something in hushed voices. ajax chuckles as they scurry off, shaking his head and smiling brightly at you. he almost seems like a kid again, the way his smile reaches far and he looks like he can’t get any happier.

you see teucer poke his head out from behind a wall and beckon ajax over. he goes over, but not without a glance to you showing off the mischievous glint in his eyes.

you wait in anticipation with a smile as you hear everyone with him giggle and push him out with a newly acquired headpiece, a headband with a string attached to a mistletoe.

a few seconds go by with your laughter before ajax teasingly says, “so, are you going to come over here, or?”

you be sure to give a thumbs up to his siblings before tackling him in a hug and bringing him in close for a smooch or two.

“stay still,” you softly chided, “i’m not going to be able to get all this sand out if you don’t.”

“sorry.” cyno replied, glancing back at the ceiling. of all methods…

this was purely tighnari and collei’s doing. they’re the only ones who know cyno’s preferred place to sit as you “help get the bits of persistent sand in his hair” even though he knows that he can do it himself.

when had they placed that there?

cyno quietly sighed as you finished with the ends of his strands, carefully taking off your gloves and putting down your brush on the towels beneath you both.

“alright, then— good night, cyno.” you say as you get up, although hesitant. you wanted to spend more time with him, but with his narrow schedule, you don’t mind putting his rest before your own desires. you wait for him to stand and get off the towels, which he does, before cradling them in a way so that the sand on top of them won’t spill. you give a small “bye, sleep well,” before turning to leave.

you feel his coarse fingers delicately wrap around your upper arm, a gasp leaving your lips as he pulled you back with a force that you’d be able to escape from if you wanted to.

“cy—”

“look up.”

you do as told.

as soon as your eyes meet the red and green symbol, you feel the same fingers that pulled you to him hold your chin, bringing your focus to him.

he speaks through the meeting of your eyes, and you allow him with a response of your lips against his.

he separates after a bit before diving back in. after such a small taste of paradise, he can’t help but want more.

of course someone put a mistletoe above the doorway of the tavern. and of course he didn’t remove it incase you came by today. and of course kaeya teased him for it.

no matter how annoying, he’d go through it if it meant you’d come to him at the end of the day.

and that you did.

you rushed past the door in excitement to tell him about your hectic, but interesting, day as diluc ignored the knowing stare he got from the calvary captain.

with a small smile, you two stayed talking until midnight, when diluc finished cleaning and closed up the tavern.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, ‘luc.” you smile, as he does the same despite his diminishing hope at being able to kiss you under the protruding plant that you two were still standing under.

just as he came to the conclusion that he’d have to be the one who’d initiate the kiss, you leaned in close to place a kiss on the corner of his lips. “you’re obvious when you want something, you know that?”

he chuckled a bit after he recovered. “you just know me well.”

he put a hand on the side of your face and pulled you in again.

“your office is so… bland. for someone like you, i expected at least some interesting decorations especially during this season.”

“‘for someone like you’?” kaeya rose an eyebrow, eyeing the box you set on his desk. “and furthermore, i haven’t had the time to decorate for the season! i’m always busy with work or spending time with you.”

“or at the tavern,” you pointed out, taking items and sorting them out across the floor from the box. “hmm, red or blue?”

“both. and what if i was just waiting for you to come in and help me since we both did a pretty good job last year?” it wasn’t a total lie. he was waiting for you, but only to be able to spend more time together.

“straight line or dips? then i think that’d be a lie,” you countered, “after all, your office was as brightly adorned as the outside all those years back before i came in to help.”

“on the walls? straight would be easier. dips would look good on the desk, though.” kaeya said as he adjusted some of the ribbons he fluffed out. “i like your company.”

a smile creased your features as you stayed quiet at the thought for a few seconds before replying with a “i like yours, too.”

eventually, you both stepped back to revel the sight. you sipped the last bits of the now lukewarm drink kaeya brought for you earlier. you remembered the way your fingers brushed against each other and the small spark that you hoped he shared.

you felt him brush a piece of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

when did he get so close?

he tilted your head up to the ceiling, your heart beating fast and resounding in your ears.

and then he kissed you, soft and delicately.

amidst the glowing lights and cheery decor, nothing could’ve matched the high spirits you and kaeya were feeling right then and there.

kazuha's observant. he always has been. so he’ll always know when you’re not giving yourself as much love as you should be. case in point…

“i know that i am not the most perfected in this art…” says the guy who can make cussing sound flowery and sweet sounding, “but i made this small book for you. it’s full of haikus and other forms of poetry containing everything i find attractive about you.”

you take the quite hefty book full of papers and some apparent trinkets sticking out of some of the pages (like flowers that remind him of you and such) with care. its title is (y/n), my muse and eternity.

you can’t seem to find your words. “kazuha… this is…”

he smiles at how happy you look.

he knows that insecurities are far from that of the like of small insects and the such, in which you can just kill them with a little flick or small press of a youth’s finger.

insecurities are plagues, brought from hell itself to block out what objectivity sees.

he knows that his words won’t be enough to quell your troubles permanently, but he’ll damn well try just to see that smile and see you free from what’s trapping you in that moment.

he flips the pages to the end where papers face you devoid of ink. he gestures above, where a small plant glistens amidst the dull space where you two are seated. you swear that wasn’t there when you walked in.

you feel him slowly trace your arm, as if asking permission to pull you closer. you lace your fingers together, relishing in the warmth of his presence as you let yourself come closer.

his lips meet yours, soft as his appearance but as passionate as his dreams and ambitions.

and when you two come apart, he takes ink and a quill from a nearby table and fills in the blank page with new words, swiftly getting the mistletoe from above to tuck into the pages like a bookmark.

lips—

with the snow falling

in the slumber of the world

Heaven-sent are they

with warmth to my days

with feelings of home in you

paradise is found

“a private show right now?” you softly laugh.

“exactly! and you’re in for a treat today— i picked up a book per someone’s recommendation about the significance of different flowers and their meanings! and i will incorporate that in the trick i’m about to show you!” he spouted excitedly, bowing in front of you as he usually does before a performance.

“well then, let’s see what you’ve got for me today that’s different than all the other shows you’ve already shown me!” you say, sitting in the chair he prepared ahead of time.

he smiles. taking his hat off again, he swirls his fingers over the opening.

“oh, it seems there’s something stuck; give me a second…” and with a yank, out he pulls a bouquet of rainbow roses. he offers them to you with a warm grin.

you take it with wide eyes, holding it close to you as you relish in how your fingers brushed against his and the remembrance of the meaning of these flowers.

taking advantage of the proximity, lyney brushes back a piece of your hair, reaching behind your ear and pulling out a piece of mistletoe with small buds blossoming on the branches.

you feel your face become unbearably hot.

he leans in to whisper. “this part isn’t a trick, by the way… these flowers represent my feelings rather well, i think. do you accept them?”

you can feel your heart pounding as you nod, his lips reaching yours as soon as you do. it’s passionate, just as the flowers represent.

once you both pull back, he says, “how do you rate your performance?”

“i’ll rate it ten out of ten if you kiss me again.”

he does. 10/10!!

what a stupid touchy feeling tradition. absolutely stupid. absolutely not worth his time setting up just because of your stupid romantic fantasies.

well, i guess that makes him stupid, then.

if all goes wrong, he has at least five back-up plans ready. so there’s nothing to lose, right?

except maybe possibly hopefully the norm of friendship you two have changing into something more.

but, he knows that if his hopes are set too high, they can come crashing down more hurtful than falling from a fifty-story skyscraper.

so he settles for stomping out his icky hopes and dreams for this encounter in favor of not going insane. at most, you were probably going to just peck him on the cheek as a ‘friendly gesture’. or slap him altogether.

it was still a good ten minutes or so before your designated meeting time, so he closed his eyes and waited beneath one of the shady areas of the forest hangout you both discussed on, listening for the sound of your footsteps. to his mild surprise, he heard them coming just a few minutes later.

you emerged from the trees, your eyes widening a bit before smiling to seemingly cover it up. “scara’! sorry, did i make you wait for long?”

he shook his head, eyeing the basket you were holding before meeting your gaze. “you’re fine. i just arrived.” which was a lie, he came extra early to prepare.

“that’s good to hear. i met with the traveler a few days ago, and he taught me a few new recipes. i was wondering if you’d like to try them out?” you say, taking a small picnic blanket out. scaramouche offered to take it as he spread it out under the tree he was leaning against.

“sounds good, your cooking’s always something i look forward to.” he replied, throwing that compliment in for good measure.

you laugh softly, opening the basket and setting out the dishes. he can’t help but notice a certain small plant in there as well for a brief second before it’s gone, covered by a few napkins shifting around as you arrange the food and utensils.

ah. well…

he stops you momentarily, gently moving your hands off the basket as he brings it closer to himself, knelt down as he rummages through it and pulls out the small piece of mistletoe inside.

you’re quick to talk. “oh, that’s… that’s just a lucky charm i carry around. i… a friendsaidthat it’s supposed to bring good luck! and fortune! and i brought it to ensure that you wouldn’t uh—get food poisoning or something, y’know? or so that i won’—!”

you’re startled by scaramouche pulling you to your feet, a smirk on his face as his hands trail up to your face. his thumbs trace the sides of it as he says, “if you look up, i’m sure you’ll find something very confidence-boosting.”

you do.

he slowly leans in, like he’s seen other couples do. and he swears you’re something else and that something zapped his lips and spread through the rest of his body, because the moment your lips met it felt as if a small electrocution was taking place in each part of his being.

it’s almost so overwhelming that he also swears that he can feel his own heartbeat in there. what did you do?

a small paradise of his own, and he plans on never losing it.

(also something ate a portion your food— it wasn’t you or scaramouche— but hey, at least that means that he can spend time with you cooking that same dish again!)

sleeping out in the forest can be difficult, but for people like tighnari, you just get used to it.

however, that’s not the case this time around with the only sound that his ears seem to be registering being the sounds of you outside your tent, sitting on a stump, writing in your plant/personal(? he thinks?) journal, and very much awake after he told you to rest up for tomorrow.

he sighs, getting up. he’s not letting you do this.

you immediately turn your head to the sound of him exiting his tent, knowing you’re in for an earful about taking proper care of yourself. you know he cares, but at least wait until you’re finished writing these last few words…

“i told you at least an hour ago to head to sleep. you’ll need the energy for tomorrow.” he walks closer, ending in front of you with a hand on his hip, which he drops as soon as you look up at him.

“i know, but…”

“you can fill in whatever you want to fill in tomorrow. come on.” he gently ushers you to your feet, taking your hand and confiscating your notebook.

“tighn—!”

“i’ll give it back tomorrow. i don’t trust you not to write in it in your tent.” he leaves no room for complaint, evading all your attempts in retrieving the book until you eventually give up with a more than devastated look.

you reluctantly lie down, tighnari watching you till you put your covers over yourself.

“good night, (y/n),” he gives a small smile, “tell me if anything nearby irritates your senses. i won’t mind being waken up for that.”

and with that, he leaves.

he spares a glance at the notebook in his hand, still open to the page you were writing on. he had no intentions of reading it, but when your name’s written down in someone’s time, you’re bound to be curious why.

𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘰𝘦

𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺

— 𝘴𝘺𝘮𝘣𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴, 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥…

you’ve certainly done your research. after swiftly skimming through that portion…

𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢�� 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴

— 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘪 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴? 𝘢 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵: 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘺. 𝘪 𝘥𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘵 𝘩𝘦’𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘣𝘶𝘵

that’s where it ends. in the book, a small mistletoe plant is nestled in between the pages. tighnari can feel his face heat and his tail jerking around excitedly behind him, prompting him to take a deep breath to calm down. it’s no use, really.

you like him?

he can’t help the smile that flutters up, taking the plant out and dropping off your notebook in his tent.

he goes over to yours, knocking his foot against the rocks outside as a sort of doorbell. he knows you’re awake.

meanwhile, you’re panicking and on the verge of running out and taking your chances in the dangers of the forest in the dark. you hear his knocking.

“you read it.” you manage from behind the curtain like doors. “i’m sor—”

“may i come in?”

he hears you inhale deeply. hesitant footsteps make their way over, opening the entrance to him.

immediately, he takes your hand. lifting his other arm, the mistletoe he has a hold of dangles above you both.

“i would,” is all he says before his lips press against yours.

both of your worlds spin, and every other noise in the avidya forest blurs away.

when you separate, he’s the first to speak with rosy cheeks decorating his features.

“mistletoe is also categorized as a parasitic plant, meaning it depends on other plants to survive by drawing nutrients from them. be sure to add that to your journal.”

“tighnari.”

he kisses you again in apology.

“your knuckles are all bruised again…” you mutter, taking his hands into your own. you brush your thumbs over the especially calloused areas.

“it’s really no big deal…” he murmurs, thinking you to be sweet for caring so heavily about him.

you get your bandages out. “are there any other places that are injured that i should know about?”

he shakes his head no, but then answers verbally realizing that with your eyes focusing on his hands, you probably didn’t see.

a couple minutes later and you’re done, a lot sooner than wriothesley would’ve wanted.

“flex your fingers.” he does so. you take the hand you just bandaged to fix one loose end. “i think that’s it…”

he subconsciously holds your hand in his. as per tradition— a sort of inside joke between you two— you bring his fingers to your lips and kiss his bandaged knuckles with a smile.

when you do the same to the other hand, he chuckles. you look at his head tilted upwards, looking up at the ceiling. you trail up as well, your eyes widening for a moment.

“it looks like sigewinne must’ve slipped in and done some decorating for me. we don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

you recall her words from a few days ago to you. “well, if you don’t make a move soon, don’t be surprised when i intervene.”

you meet his eyes. he looks… bashful? embarrassed?

you gather up your confidence before it evaporates and move up to kiss him.

He stiffens before melting into the kiss, bringing you closer with the hand not holding yours on the small of your back and the other intertwining your fingers.

he chased your lips after you separated, and well; you both didn’t leave his office for a bit.

you definitely made sure to hug and give sigewinne a new sticker sheet afterwards.

you thought up the idea a while back, but never acted on it. xiao was… well, xiao. you simply didn’t think he’d like it, especially if he didn’t like you in that way. that’d just be awkward.

so you never did it, until one day after you consulted zhongli.

“it seems he does feel the same way, after all the talks we’ve shared of the topic being you, to whom he speaks very highly of.”

you smile at the thought now as you sit beside xiao, explaining the topic of mistletoe, which apparently he overheard from some people walking past that he wanted to learn about. what he heard you don’t know, so you prompt to start from the very beginning from its origins all the way to its tradition.

he stays quiet with a few questions throughout your speech, seemingly deep in thought.

you think that’s a good sign.

when you’re done, you look at him only to find him already staring at you.

“would you want to do that with me?”

your eyes widen at the sudden sentence before you throw out a response. “yes, i would.”

“i’ll be right back.” and before you can say anything, he vanishes. he comes back a few minutes later with something in his hand. a small mistletoe.

you stand up to his level, eyeing the blush beginning to spread across his face.

you smile serenely, taking his hand holding the plant and raising it above your heads. you then take the lead and lean in to kiss him.

in all of his years of being alive, xiao thinks he’s never felt so… actually alive. it’s always like that around you. you take him away from the automatic responses he gives and seemingly endless monotony that is slaying monsters and the sort. you give him some sort of essence he can’t describe that he’s been lacking all these years, decades, centuries, millenniums.

he loves you so dearly.

and when you separate, he finds himself seeking more, pulling you closer and kissing you again.

it’s his sort of reward for suffering for so long without this, he supposes.

“it’s rather late,” zhongli glanced over at the night sky, “shall we get going?”

you nod. “thanks for accompanying me today; though, i still feel guilty for taking up your time…”

he gives you a reassuring smile. “it is of no concern. i was not particularly busy, and any time spent with you is never wasted.”

you smile back. “you flatter me too much.”

“it is not as if you do not deserve it.” he responds. you can’t help but widen your smile. he continues speaking. “you’re staying over at the baiju guesthouse for now until your renovations are completed, correct?”

“i am! it’s been pleasant so far, and the decorations adorning the building for the season are definitely a sight to wake up to!”

a good amount of talking later, and finally at around midnight, you both arrive.

“i’m afraid i now must apologize for taking up your time, you ought to rest for tomorrow. shall we meet up soon?” his expression is soothing, but if you look a little deeper, a small glint in his eyes shows a bit of hopefulness and something else.

“of course, and…” you trail off, glancing up at the archway you two are standing under in front of the guesthouse. “happy holidays, zhongli.”

you quickly kiss him on the cheek before hurrying away, leaving a stunned zhongli in your wake, hand to the place where you kissed him, seemingly in awe.

he says your name delicately, like a sacred word meant to be worshipped. you stop your hand on the door, turning your head over to see him reach for your hands and spinning you around.

a small intake of air leaves you as he walks you both back under the mistletoe above that you spotted earlier. he then leans in close.

“may i?”

and you close the distance.

happy holidays indeed.

©️kazusys — 24/12/24; do not plagiarize/steal, repost, translate, and/or claim any of my works as your own.

[wonderjanga]

Sweet Dreams

Billy likes sleeping. Just as any normal human child would. Unfortunately though, he’s not a normal human child. He juggles two jobs, Whiz Kid and the JL. Technically three if he counts patrol and actually being a hero in Fawcett as separate from the JL. Point is, he does a lot of stuff and sleeping is a wonderful to refresh himself. So, one day, he tried to get sleep as Marvel to make up for that lost time.

Then, the dream started.

Marvel: “Zeus? What are you wearing?”

Zeus: “Huh?” * looks down at his clothes* “The heck… Billy this is your dream. Why did you make me appear like this?”

Marvel: “Maybe because I didn’t expect to see you?”

Zeus: “Why wouldn’t you- Oh wait. You’ve never slept in your Champion form have you?”

Marvel: “No?”

Zeus: “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Come.” *gestures for him to follow and starts to walk off*

Marvel: *follows*

Zeus: “See, Batson, whenever Champions fall asleep, that can allow their patron gods to invade their dreams. That’s actually with me and the others are doing right now!”

Marvel: “Oh uh… cool?”

They played some cards, and yelled at each other about how people were cheating. Solomon won nearly every game. Except Uno which Mercury somehow won. There was a lot more suspicion of cheating when that happened. They then just sat in a circle like preteens at a slumber party and started gossiping about the other gods and goddesses from both Greek and other mythology. All in all, it was basically a sleepover, and if Billy was being honest, he didn’t hate it. Though, what he did hate was the fact that when he woke up he felt even more tired then before he went to sleep.

He noticed this was a pattern after a couple more times of him trying to make up for lost sleep as Marvel. As a result, Billy started kicking himself out of the dreams so he could actually sleep. The gods didn’t like this because Billy was apparently a chill little guy to hang out with. He of course, still said no, but you see, the Gods can be really, really… annoying when you say no to them.

Marvel: *sitting on a roof in Fawcett*

Zeus: “JOIN US!”

Marvel: “No.”

Achilles: “Please, Batson?”

Marvel: “No.”

Solomon: “Billy, please don’t leave me alone with them.”

Marvel: “Sorry, Solly. Still no.”

Solomon: “Again with that nickname…” *honestly doesn’t know whether he likes or hates it*

Zeus: “Wait, why is Solomon the only one who gets an apology?”

Marvel: “He’s the only one I feel bad for.”

Zeus: “WHA-”

This made Zeus mad so he pettily took away Billy’s ability to use lightning as Marvel. The Batson boy went a week before he caved and hung out with them in his dreams again.

Zeus: “You’re here!”

Marvel: *frowniest frown on his face*

He was then sequestered away by Zeus to watch Achilles and Hercules have a hot dog eating contest.

Mercury: “Who do you think is gonna win, Bill? We can have a bet!”

Marvel: “I don’t have any money to bet.”

Atlas: “Yes, Hermes. You forget he’s a… how do humans nowadays say it? Ah right. A brokie.”

Marvel: “Atlas, you just fell so hard down my favorites list your below Zeus now.”

Atlas: *extremely offended* “BELOW ZEUS?!”

Zeus: “HA!” *literally points and laughs*

The Next Day…

Wondy: “Brother, is something wrong? I’ve never seen you drink coffee before.”

Marvel: “I spent my night watching Achilles and Hercules shove hotdogs down their throats to see who could out-eat the other. Meanwhile, Atlas and Zeus were fist-fighting in one corner while Mercury kept trying to coerce me into making a bet with him, even though I had literally no money to make said bet.”

Wondy: “Oh.”

Marvel: “Yeah. Oh.” *sips his coffee* “Anyways, how was your night?”

[wynnerwynner]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐋

bob reynolds x fem!avenger!reader

request: yes, yes

warnings: brief mention of drowning, oblivious idiots, spoiler free :)

wc:��1.9k

a/n: i listened to pushing it down and praying while editing hehe

Y/N’s narrowed eyes searched the common area of the Watchtower. In a corner of the floor-to-ceiling windows, Bob was curled in a chair with a book in his lap. It was one of the ones they’d recommended to her.

“Hey,” she smiled, giving his shoulder a nudge as she approached.

Bob did a double-take, then grinned softly. “Hi. What’s up?”

The ends of his hair curled, getting in his eyes a little, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“I found a cool bookstore online and I was thinking of going,” she explained. “Wanna join?”

Bob was one of the first people to truly make Y/N feel welcome. He hadn’t been the first one to introduce himself but he’d stood out. From the get-go, he was kind and careful, the complete opposite of men she’d met in the past. He seemed so normal. It made her heart ache sometimes.

“Uh…” he peered at his book, then as if thinking better of himself, he shook his head and closed it. “Yes—yeah, that’d be… that’d be cool.”

Valentina rarely gave the Avengers a break. It finally took Yelena putting her foot down for them to get a vacation. They had two weeks to themselves and Y/N would finally take the opportunity to visit some places she hadn’t gotten the chance to yet. It was also a good excuse to get Bob out of the Tower.

“When was the last time you left the Tower?” Y/N teased, shoulders rigid and fists deep in her pockets as she fought to block out the bitter wind.

“A long time, I guess,” his lips wobbled into an abashed smile. “Hey, I thought you didn’t get cold.”

“You’d think that,” she muttered indignantly. “I drown in a frozen lake and emerge with cold manipulation but my body doesn’t acclimate.”

“Here,” Bob shrugged off his jacket.

Despite the cold wind, Y/N face burned. “Oh, no, no,” she chuckled sheepishly.

“It’s all right,” he reassured. “I run hot, anyway.”

The brunette held out his jacket, allowing her to slip her arms in. Warmth enveloped her instantly. The smell of laundry detergent and trees filled her nose, bringing a sort of comfort to her.

“How’s that?” half his mouth quirked.

Y/N nodded, ignoring the deep ache in her stomach, “Better. Thank you.”

The walk to the bookstore was anything but quiet. Y/N was one of the few people to know that once you got close with Bob, he was a talker. He could be as excited as a little kid if you brought up the right topic. Books seemed to be one of those things.

A bell dinged as they entered the bookstore. Y/N nearly sighed aloud as the smell of books with glue older than her and yellowing pages filled her nose. To one wall were shelves of instrumental tools with guitars displayed above them. In other sections of long shelves there were action figures, electronics, vinyls and CDs, relatively new books, and old books. Y/N felt herself gravitating to the far right of the store where RARE READS was printed in large, red lettering on the wall.

A smile came over her lips as she noticed different prints of Pride and Prejudice, The Great Gatsby, and Little Women lining the shelves. Y/N’s gaze caught on Bob as he pulled a thin book from the shelf. It was bound in an orangey brown paper with intricate beige designs. The title and author stood out in lanky, black letters on the front.

“Have you read The Yellow Wallpaper?”

Y/N’s tone was so soft that it almost surprised her. She hadn’t wanted to sound so delicate of a question, cringing to herself as he did a double-take and seemingly hid his gaze from her.

“Uh… yeah,” he chuckled. “It was a mandatory read in high school. I dropped out before finishing it but I picked it up again recently and it’s probably one of my top favourites.”

Y/N almost couldn’t believe it. Her stomach twisted and she was overcome with a sense of relief. Oddly, it brought her a new sense of security around him.

Her brain struggled to form words so she opted for a soft, approving smile. Bob shot her a glance before gazing back to the book in his hands and continuing down the aisle. Y/N plucked book after book of the shelves, relishing in the crackling sound the pages made as she opened and closed them.

“Hey, Y/N,” Bob called.

At the end of the aisle, he held up a small box. As she stepped closer, she recognized it as a Winter Soldier action figure. Everything seemed to be accurate, except for his nose. Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, taking the plastic from his hand to study it.

“There’s one of you, too,” he said.

“Oh, God,” Y/N groaned, already imagining the worst.

When she looked at it, her face screwed up in embarrassment. Her eyes were a little too tilted and her lips a little too pursed.

“I look drunk,” she covered her mouth with her free hand.

Her action-figure-self was doing her signature move when she attempted to shoot icicles from her hands. They’d painted her fingertips and a dot on her palm blue for effect.

“It’s pretty accurate, actually,” he said.

At Y/N’s gaping mouth, Bob spluttered in apology, “I am so sorry, I—”

Y/N suddenly laughed, whether it was at his embarrassment or her own, she didn’t know. Bob’s face burned red, his chin tucking into his chest as she hid behind his hair.

“I—I didn’t mean it like that,” he spoke quickly. “I meant, like, you always look like that because you look beautiful.”

Bob’s mouth slowly shut as Y/N went quiet, her laughter dying off into a soft stare. She didn’t know what to say. It was so random coming from him. Did he mean it how she thought he meant it? No, that was stupid. He didn’t like her! He’s her teammate, that’d be unprofessional! It was definitely platonic. Bob was just being nice. He was always nice.

“Thank you,” she replied, a little more sheepish than she’d have liked.

Bob nodded, his tongue darting out to his bottom lip. “Yeah, you’re welcome.”

They stayed in the shop another thirty minutes just looking at everything. She found out Bob had a love for classics and thrillers. While she had only read more of the popular classics, her heart warmed in appreciation.

When the Watchtower elevator dinged and the doors dragged open, they were greeted by their entire team in the common area.

“Well, look who’s back,” John’s voice echoed from a velvet chair across the room.

All eyes went to Bob and Y/N, making them stop in their tracks. The plastic bag in Bob’s hand crinkled throughout the quiet room as he gripped it.

“You owe me twenty bucks,” Ava pointed at Alexei.

Y/N eyed her teammates, “Why does it feel like there’s an intervention happening.”

“Not ‘intervention’,” said Yelena from the kitchen island. “More like… a celebration.”

“Is it someone’s birthday?” Bob quirked a bewildered smile.

“We’re celebrating your first date,” Bucky said flatly as he poured a glass of whiskey.

Y/N’s eyes nearly bugged out of her skull, her neck pushing forward at the force of her surprise. “Our what?”

“Ha!” Alexei shouted, pointing back at Ava. “You owe me twenty bucks!”

“I’m extremely confused,” Bob chuckled uncomfortably.

“Ava and I make bet on whether you two like each other,” Alexei shrugged. “I win.”

Y/N glanced to Bob, who seemed just as confused as her, if not more.

“She’s wearing his jacket!” Ava exclaimed.

“Friends give each other clothes of their backs!” Alexei argued. “It is perfectly okay!”

“There is literally nothing normal about that, at all,” John agreed.

“Thank you—Wait, no,” Ava stopped herself, eyes closing. “No, I don’t want to thank you. You don’t deserve it.”

“Excuse me—”

“Guys, I hate to break it to you, but Bob and I are just friends,” Y/N chuckled, her face burning. “There’s nothing going on between us. I don’t even like Bob like that!”

“Yeah, I don’t even like her like that,” Bob scratched the back of his neck, eyes on the floor.

“Then why are you blushing,” said John.

Y/N shot daggers at John, who only smiled mischievously.

“Come on,” Yelena groaned. “Whenever we come back from a mission, you and Bob are the first ones you talk to; Bob reads your favourite books; you help him with the dishes; you sit beside each other on the couch every time—”

“Don’t forget about that time they fell asleep together,” Bucky pointed out from beside her.

Yelena smacked the super soldier’s chest with the back of her hand in agreement. “You fell asleep on each other during a movie and we just left you there!” she echoed.

The room was quiet as Y/N and Bob found themselves at a loss for words.

After an awkward departure to her room, Y/N lay awake on her bed. Car horns and the singing of brakes filtered through her cracked window. The only light in her dark room came from the moon.

There was a part of her that admitted some things about her and Bob’s friendship were bordering on romantic. The only time she’d shared a jacket with someone else was when her they had a crush on her and offered. Bob had called her beautiful in the store and no guy had ever called her beautiful without it being romantic. When a mission ended, all she could think about was getting home to Bob and telling him everything that had happened. He brought her a level of comfort she hadn’t known in a long time. He made her day infinitely better by simply smiling. She couldn’t get enough of his company.

A knock resounded through her door, startling her from her thoughts.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Bob,” he replied. “I—I can come back another time if it’s—”

Y/N scrambled to her door and ripped it open faster than intended. He stood on the other side, arms loose at his sides, hands hidden in his sleeves.

“Hi,” he sighed.

“Hey.”

In the fluorescent hallway lights, she realized that his eyes were a dark blue. As dark as the deepest part of the sea. She felt herself getting lost in them before he quirked a smile.

“Can I come in?”

“Uh,” Y/N scrambled to catch her bearings, “yeah.”

Bob squeezed past her and took a seat at the end of her bed. He’d sat there many times before as she finished getting ready for a mission or for a special event Valentina was ordered them to. She remembered the way he looked at her when she would come out in the fancy outfits. He’d seem to be at a loss for words, but she’d laugh it off as him being socially awkward and being too afraid to say the wrong thing. He was always so respectful.

“I had a lot of fun today,” he broke the silence again.

Y/N nodded, taking a seat beside him. “Me too. I’m glad you came with me.”

“I’m glad I did, too.” He smiled at her, but it faltered as he studied her face.

“What?”

Bob’s brows furrowed. “I’ve been thinking, um, about what everyone said.”

Y/N gazed at the cream carpeted floor, “Me too.”

“Really? Um… actually, I wanted to know if you’d go on a real date. With me. Sometime. You know, only if you’re up to it. It’s okay if you—”

Y/N’s face broke out into a smile and she laid a hand on top of his, effectively silencing his rambling. “I’d love to.”

Bob stared at their fingers, then spluttered a laugh and nodded. “All right. It’s a date.”

[uki01]

Hi! Hope you’re doing ok!

Anyway, I thought of a cute romantic prompt for movie!Sonic, Shadow, and Knuckles, if you do the movie-verse, that is. We know that they’re the only ones who give off chaos energy (that we know of) and it’s especially tied to their emotions. It makes me think of them getting flustered by their crush/partner to the point they shoot out sparks of chaos energy and some sort of shenanigans ensue.

Damn. It actually makes me wonder if that’s why movie!Shadow is so stoic. He probably doesn’t want to hurt people by accident and tries his hardest to keep his emotions in check. The poor baby 🥺.

Anyway, it’s only these three since it’s the movie-verse and they’re the only ones so far who use chaos energy. Thank you so much, and be sure to rest when you need to and have fun doing what you do 💖💕

“Love Is Chaos.”

Movie!Sonic The Hedgehog, Movie!Shadow The Hedgehog and Movie!Knuckles The Echidna x Reader

Author’s Note: This sounds so cute! Thanks for the request!

Movie!Sonic The Hedgehog

You and Sonic met after the events of the 1st movie.

This guy was like puppy love for him.

He’s never fallen in love or felt romantic feelings so this is all new to him.

He’s told Maddie and she got excited, explaining what he’s feeling towards you.

He goes all out on trying to impress you with his tricks, cool adventures and badass speed.

It ends with a big ol fail, but you find it entertaining at least.

During the events of the 2nd movie when he first turned Super, you were mesmerised by the sight.

Soon as he was still himself, you hugged him tightly, grateful that he was okay.

Sonic feeling his face flush red, got to excited as he hugged you back, he accidentally caused a spark between you two.

Shocking you a bit.

Sonic was scared and apologised quickly but you laughed it off, he sighed of relieved.

He think this was the start of something beautiful.

And deep down, you were ready for it too.

Movie!Knuckles The Echidna

Knuckles has met you after the events of the second movie.

This was the first time Knuckles ever felt romantic feelings.

First he felt very confused, so he went to Sonic.

Sonic who teases Knuckles for his crush on you which Knuckles, of course, doesn’t understand.

”What do you mean I have a crush on Y/N? I don’t want to crush them, they will be deceased by my strength.”

”No no knucklehead, it means you have romantic feelings for them.”

”I don’t get what you mean hedgehog.”

”Ugh… it means you love them in a way Maddie and Tom love each other, like lovers.”

”Ah, so I see.”

After that, he awkwardly tries to make conversation and give subtle hints of his love towards you, you think this is just him trying to get to know more about earth.

Which is partially true in a way.

When he does show you his super form, you are in love with how he glows.

As you two start doing silly shenanigans whiles in his super form.

When he gets way too excited he accidentally sparks you it knocked you back down.

This worried Knuckles a lot as he runs up and checks on you.

But he just finds you laughing at this, saying how cool and badass he looks.

Knuckles face begins to feel red but still stands tall and confident.

He can get use to your cute and funny laughter.

Movie!Shadow The Hedgehog

Shadow met you after the events of the third movie and joined the Wachowski family.

You were intrigued by his nature while so was he with you.

You reminded him a lot like Maria with your kindness.

Like her, you never saw him as a freak and was always comforting him whenever he had his upsetting moments.

This caused Shadow to gain some romantic feelings for you.

But he has no idea what any of this means or is which frustrates and confuses him.

He goes to ask Sonic what this is.

Like Knuckles, doesn’t get the gist but understands more since he felt love with Maria (platonic love though).

”Ooh looks like someone has a crush on Y/NNN~”

”Crush? Why would I want to crush them? I would knock them out in one go, I don’t want to do that.”

”No dude, it means you feel loving feelings for her, you know Maria? It’s like that but in Tom and Maddie’s way, you feel what Tom feels about Maddie.”

”Hm..”

He took this information and started working on getting to know you more.

This confused you since you knew Shadow wasn’t the type to make connections.

Not after his best friend and eldest sister’s death.

But this made you happy knowing he was trying his best.

Soon as he revealed his Super form, you were amazed by it and was telling Shadow how cool and amazing he looked.

Shadow smiled at this.

Soon as he got a bit excited, sparks came out of him hitting you.

This immediately worried Shadow but faded away after hearing your laughter.

Saying that felt funny and tickled a bit, still complimenting him how badass he looks.

This made Shadow smile even more.

He was going to love this, as much as he didn’t admit it.

Author’s Note: Hope you enjoyed this request!

[fr0stf4ll]

A court of Shadows and Moonlight - Part 13

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the wake of looming war and changing traditions, a gifted healer returns to the Night Court after centuries of wandering the continents. Tasked with stepping into Madja’s legendary role, she must guide reluctant healers, soothe wounded warriors, and face the entrenched prejudice of Illyrian leaders. But as she mends torn wings and broken spirits, an unexpected bond awakens between her and the Night Court’s enigmatic Spymaster. With rivalries simmering and a dangerous threat looming on the horizon, she must reconcile duty and desire, learning that true healing can extend beyond flesh and bone—if she dares to embrace the light hidden among the shadows.

word count ; 10k

Trigger warning; violence & mention of death

notes; hello lovely people, here is the new chapter ! A bit longer than usual but let me tell you that this one is heavy (and I did cut some of it to put it in the next chapter because I was a bit scared that it would be too much for one chapter). Anyways I tried to do a fun chapter, well ... you guys will see with your own eyes that I always need to make things a bit dramatic (only a little °°333). I think it's really the chapter I enjoyed the most writing so far so I hope that you will enjoy reading it <3. See you all next week, love you <333

thank you again @ailoda for you post it made me freaking emotional <333

previous ✧ next

The warm glow of the living room lights filled the townhouse, casting a cozy ambiance over the gathered Inner Circle. It was dinner day, and the entire group—Feyre, Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel, Amren, Nesta and Mor—had joined you for an evening of food and conversation. It had been a few days since you went back home after the incident and  Feyre had personally come to you that afternoon to invite you, her warm insistence leaving little room to decline. You were drowing in your work trying not to give a thought to the bond and the fact that you hadn’t seen Azriel since. 

You’d opted for a simple yet comfortable outfit: wide, high-waisted black pants paired with a loose, long-sleeved blue top with a high collar. The fabric was soft and warm, perfect for the cool night air.

The room was alive with chatter and laughter, and you found yourself caught up in it, smiling despite the exhaustion still lingering in your body. Cassian and Mor were on either side of you, bantering animatedly about Velaris nightlife.

“You mean to tell me you’ve never been to Rita's?” Cassian exclaimed, his eyes widening in mock horror.

“I think once when I was younger, but ever since never.” you replied, shrugging. “I’m too busy saving lives to hit up bars, apparently.”

“It’s not just a bar,” Mor interjected, her hands gesturing wildly as if to emphasize her point. “It’s the bar. Best drinks, best music, best people—it’s a Velaris institution.”

Cassian leaned forward, grinning. “Mor’s right. Even Amren’s been there. It’s practically a rite of passage.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” you said, smirking.

Mor wasn’t satisfied. She nudged your shoulder, her voice taking on a pleading tone. “Come on. We’ll go together when you’re better.”

You chuckled. “Alright, but I don’t know when I’ll have time.”

“When?” she pressed, her hazel eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Next month, probably,” you answered, trying not to laugh at the look of disbelief on her face.

“Next month?” she repeated, incredulous. “Why next month?”

“Because next week, I’m going back to Windhaven,” you began, ticking the events off on your fingers. “Then I’ve got meetings with the priestesses, and then Starfall is coming, and after that—”

“Okay, okay!” Mor interrupted, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. “I’m going to have to kidnap you just to get you out for one night.”

You laughed openly this time, shaking your head. “Fine, I’ll pencil you in when I can.”

Feyre approached then, her soft voice cutting through the lively banter. “Y/N, do you think you could join me for a painting class on Friday afternoon? And don’t you dare tell me you’re too busy with work.”

You raised a hand, pretending to look wounded. “I wasn’t going to say that. But I can’t make it—not because of work, though.”

Feyre raised an eyebrow, clearly curious. “Then why?”

“It’s my weekly tea time with Madja,” you replied simply.

Cassian immediately perked up, his brows shooting up in interest. “Tea time with Madja?” he repeated, leaning forward with an amused grin. “That’s adorable. What do you two even talk about? Healer issues? New techniques?”

You swatted his arm lightly, shaking your head. “Hey! Just because I love my job doesn’t mean that’s all I talk about. We talk about... other things.”

“Like what?” Mor asked, smirking as she sipped her wine.

You tilted your head, feigning mystery. “That’s between me and Madja.”

Cassian let out a bark of laughter. “I’m picturing the two of you having a serious debate over tea about how to fix my dumbass when I inevitably crash into something.”

“Cassian,” Feyre interjected, rolling her eyes, “Y/N does far more important work than managing your antics.”

“Thank you,” you said to Feyre, giving Cassian a pointed look. “And for the record, Madja and I have very enlightening conversations. You’d be surprised how insightful she is about life in general.”

The group shared a laugh, and for the first time in what felt like ages, you let yourself relax. The lively chatter continued, shifting topics seamlessly as plates of food and glasses of wine were passed around. For once, you weren’t talking about healers’ matters or politics—you were just a part of the group, laughing and enjoying the moment. 

The peaceful hum of the room shifted the moment Elain entered, Lucien trailing just behind her. You were talking to Feyre and didn’t immediately notice the change in atmosphere until Rhysand’s voice broke through the casual chatter.

“Y/N,” Rhys said smoothly, gesturing toward the two newcomers, “allow me to introduce Lucien.”

You looked up, your eyes meeting Lucien’s in a moment of mutual surprise. “What are you doing here?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. The corners of Lucien’s mouth twitched into a small, amused smile, and he stepped forward to give you a brief hug.

“Good to see you too, Y/N,” he replied lightly, though his voice carried an undercurrent of genuine warmth.

The room’s dynamic shifted again as Elain gravitated toward Azriel, who was leaning against the back of the couch. Lucien, perhaps instinctively or perhaps by choice, found his way to your side. The juxtaposition didn’t go unnoticed, though no one commented on it—at least not aloud.

You handed Nyx back to Feyre, who smiled gently at you, her expression tinged with curiosity as she glanced between you and Lucien.

“I take it you’ve met before?” Rhys prompted, his brow lifting slightly.

You nodded, still a little thrown by Lucien’s sudden presence. “Yes, we breafly met when I was in Autumn centuries ago.” you explained. “And then again in Spring—he arrived a few weeks before I left.”

“Small world,” Lucien said with a faint grin, though his sharp gaze flickered to Rhysand, ever aware of the High Lord’s looming presence.

The conversation meandered for a while, touching on casual topics. But then Lucien turned to you, his tone shifting slightly and quietly asked you. “I heard about the healer meeting in Dawn. Did you have a chance to speak with the head healer of Autumn?”

Your expression softened, though a shadow passed over your features. “I did,” you said, your voice quieter. “She’s doing better, don’t worry. But, very honestly, Lucien... she won’t be in her best shape if she stays in Autumn. It’s slowly killing her.”

The room stilled, the weight of your words settling heavily in the air. Rhysand’s eyebrow arched, and you felt an unfamiliar sensation—a gentle yet deliberate tug on your mind. It was the first time Rhys had ever used his abilities on you like this, and though it was unsettling, you allowed it, letting him in.

What was that about? his voice sounded in your mind, calm but edged with concern.

The High Lady of Autumn tried to kill herself, you replied, the words laced with quiet gravity. 

The thought landed heavily in Rhysand’s consciousness, and though his face betrayed nothing, you felt the ripple of shock that coursed through him.

Shit, he muttered in your mind, his tone uncharacteristically unsettled. Does Eris know?

Yes, you replied. He’s keeping it quiet, but it’s caused even more division within Autumn. The tension between him and Beron is... palpable.

Rhysand’s silence spoke volumes as he processed the information. You could feel his thoughts flickering through the implications, his strategic mind already piecing together the broader picture.

And what do you think? he finally asked, his tone quieter now.

I think she needs to leave Autumn. Rordan their head healer told me that Day might be an option. But it’s her decision to make, not ours.

Rhysand’s agreement hummed softly through your connection. Keep me updated on her situation—and anything else from Autumn.

You nodded slightly, breaking the mental link as Lucien’s voice drew your attention back to the room. “And do you think she’ll leave?” he asked, his expression unreadable.

You shook your head, offering him a faint, tired smile. “I don’t know. I hope so. But it’s her choice.”

Lucien sighed, his posture stiffening slightly. “It’s complicated,” he murmured, his tone heavy with unspoken thoughts.

“Yes,” you agreed softly. “It is.”

Though the conversation shifted to lighter topics, the weight of what had been discussed lingered in your mind—and Rhysand’s—as an unspoken reminder of the cracks forming in Prythian’s foundation.

You turned to Lucien with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Oh, by the way, Lila says hi.”

Lucien froze mid-sip of his drink, his eyes widening in a mix of panic and exasperation. “No. Not her again,” he muttered, setting his glass down with more force than necessary. “Why does she still talk about me?”

You burst out laughing at his visible distress, the kind of laughter that left you breathless. The others turned their attention to you, curiosity lighting up their faces. Cassian raised a brow, leaning forward. “What’s so funny?”

You wiped at your eyes, still giggling. “Oh, it’s just... let’s say that during the healer meeting at least the nights we spent talking with the girls, Lucien was a very… popular topic. Let’s just say Lila is quite taken with Lucien.”

“Taken?” Lucien interjected sharply, lifting his head to glare at you. “No, Y/N. Let’s call it what it is—obsessed. I am terrified of her.”

Rhysand, clearly amused, leaned back in his chair with a chuckle. “What does she look like?”

You smirked, ready for the volley of descriptions. “Well, she looks like Tamlin—”

“But with boobs,” Lucien interjected, deadpan, cutting you off.

“And she’s short, like Amren,” you added, grinning as you gestured downward.

Lucien groaned again. “Short, running everywhere, and screaming.  Always screaming.”

You burst into laughter again, shaking your head. “Don’t get me wrong—she’s an incredible healer. Honestly, one of my best students. But... she’s something, that’s for sure.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Lucien muttered, rubbing his temples. “Do you know about the closet incident?”

“Oh gods, yes!” You exclaimed, grinning wide. “That was hilarious when she told us about it. The way we had to make her drink for her to be able to admit it, but don’t dramatise everything Lucien it was just her way to show her affection right?” you looked at him amused.

“She tried to lock me in a closet to stop me from leaving the Spring Court Y/N?” 

"Well that sounds oddly familiar?” said Feyre looking at the booth of you. 

Cassian’s laugh echoed through the room. “What is it with Spring Court and locking people ? First Tamlin, now this?”

You nodded, struggling to suppress your laughter. “Apparently, she thought it was the only way to get him to ‘listen.’”

You wiped tears of laughter from your eyes. 

Rhysand leaned back, still chuckling. “So, to sum it up: she’s like Tamlin, but with boobs, short like Amren, runs everywhere, and... locks people in closets.”

Cassian doubled over with laughter. “You’ve got to introduce me to this Lila. She sounds like a riot.”

Lucien glared at him. “You can take my place if you’re so curious, I’m sure she would love you.”

The room burst into laughter again, the lighthearted banter a welcome reprieve from the tensions that had been looming. Even Lucien couldn’t help but laugh, though his mortified expression lingered.

On the other side of the room, Azriel leaned against the couch, his shadows curling restlessly around him like dark, living whispers. His gaze lingered on you and Lucien, watching the way you laughed with an ease that felt almost foreign to him. You looked carefree, radiant even, as if the weight of the world had momentarily lifted from your shoulders. Lucien’s animated gestures and your bright laughter filled the air, a stark contrast to the tight knot of unease growing in Azriel’s chest.

He shouldn’t feel this way. He couldn’t feel this way.

Azriel shifted slightly, trying to quiet the tumult within him. Elain was seated beside him, her delicate fingers brushing against his thigh in a silent question. He turned to her, her soft gaze meeting his, and he forced a small nod. “I’m fine,” he murmured, though the words tasted like a lie on his tongue.

But he wasn’t fine. Not even close.

He had wanted to cross the room, to come and sit beside you, to feel that inexplicable comfort that always seemed to radiate from you when you were near. Now that he knew about the bond, everything felt more tangled, more painful. The knowledge weighed heavily on him, suffocating in its clarity. How could you sit there, so normal, so composed, when you had known about this bond for longer than he had?

The thought ate away at him. How had you managed to keep it hidden? How had you endured the ache of it, the pull, without letting it show?

Azriel’s gaze flicked to Elain briefly, guilt tugging at the edges of his thoughts. He shifted subtly away from her, a small, almost imperceptible movement. Out of respect for Lucien, yes. Not that he’d cared before—but now, now he understood. He understood the quiet agony of seeing someone he cared about so deeply sitting with another. It twisted his insides in a way he hadn’t expected.

But it wasn’t just about respect. It was about you.

His shadows coiled tighter around him, reflecting the storm in his mind. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to untangle the mess of emotions that had overtaken him since discovering the bond. And the hardest part was the longing—to be near you, to hear your voice, to feel that connection that had only deepened with the knowledge of what you truly were to him.

You were laughing again, the sound clear and unguarded. It was a sound he hadn’t realized he craved until now, and it only added to his torment. The way you leaned slightly toward Lucien, your smile bright, as if there was no weight of a bond tethering you to him. As if he didn’t even exist.

Azriel’s jaw tightened, his wings shifting slightly as he glanced at the floor. He needed a moment, a reprieve from the chaos in his chest. From the knowledge that while you laughed with Lucien, he was the one standing in the shadows, lost and unsure.

You had barely met Azriel’s gaze when Lucien raised an eyebrow at you, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. “Right, let’s not talk about the Spring Court, Y/N,” he said, his tone almost teasing.

“How much time did the two of you spend in the Spring Court together?” Feyre asked, her curiosity piqued.

Without missing a beat, you and Lucien answered in unison, “Three weeks.”

The synchronization caught everyone off guard, and a ripple of laughter swept through the room.

You rolled your eyes dramatically and added, “And that was far enough, if you want my opinion.”

Lucien smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Yes, far enough after nearly killing Tamlin, burning part of his estate, and getting proposed to by his last general.”

The room fell silent, and all eyes turned to you. You stared at Lucien in disbelief, your mouth opening and closing for a moment before crossing your legs and taking a deliberate sip of your wine. “That’s so fake,” you said finally, your tone nonchalant. “I didn’t light the fire. I was just there when it happened.”

Rhysand raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing as he leaned forward slightly. “And tell me, Y/N, just how many people have proposed to you?”

You nearly choked on your wine. “What do you mean, Rhysand? Please.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. Everyone’s attention shifted to you, eyes wide with intrigue. You glanced at Azriel, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, and asked accusingly, “Did you tell him?”

Azriel shook his head immediately, his voice steady. “No, of course not.”

Cassian and Mor, ever the instigators, leaned closer. “Wait, wait,” Cassian said, grinning. “Who else proposed to her? Go on, Rhys. I feel like this is going to be good.”

Rhysand’s smirk widened, his violet eyes gleaming with mischief. “Well,” he began, drawing the word out dramatically, “our sweet head healer of the Night Court could have become the Lady of Dawn, if she had wanted to.”

The reaction was immediate. Mor screamed, her voice full of scandalized delight. “You were with Thesan? Y/N!”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Yes,” you admitted reluctantly, “and that’s all you’re going to get to know. End of discussion.” You shot Rhysand a black look, though he only laughed, clearly pleased with himself.

“Well,” you said quickly, trying to change the subject, “it’s not to interrupt, but I’m pretty sure dinner is ready, right?”

Feyre crossed her arms, a knowing look on her face. “If you think you’re going to escape this conversation, Y/N, you’re wrong.”

You sighed dramatically, looking up as if to appeal to the Mother above. “Oh, for the love of the mother,” you muttered, but the room erupted into laughter, the tension giving way to warmth and camaraderie once more.

During dinner, to everyone’s surprise, you found yourself seated next to Azriel. He had deliberately taken the seat beside you, leaving Lucien to sit next to Elain. The shift in seating arrangements caught more than a few curious glances. Elain’s worried look flickered toward Azriel, while Lucien, seated on her other side, raised an eyebrow at the change.

You tried to ignore the questions bubbling in your mind, though it was hard to brush aside the unexpected energy between you and Azriel. While you had resigned yourself to the fact that Azriel cared deeply for Elain, perhaps even loved her, this sudden change left you puzzled.

Amren’s sharp voice cut through the quiet hum of conversation, drawing everyone’s attention. “Is this a new table, Rhysand?” she asked, gesturing to the elegant woodwork beneath her plate.

Rhysand smirked, barely looking up from his plate. “Yes, it is. Y/N and Azriel broke the last one.”

You choked on your wine, coughing violently as heat crept up your neck. The room went silent for a heartbeat before Cassian burst out laughing, followed closely by Mor’s cackling. You covered your mouth, trying to recover as all eyes turned to you.

Amren’s silver eyes sparkled with amusement as she leaned forward slightly. “Well, girl, a High Lord, a General, and now a Spymaster. You’re going for all of them, aren’t you?”

Your jaw dropped as laughter erupted around the table. “Oh, please shut up,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. You didn’t even dare to glance at Azriel, though you could feel the heat of his gaze lingering. The sharpness of Elain’s eyes, however, was impossible to miss. Her displeasure radiated from her in waves, her expression tightening as she glanced between you and Azriel.

“I’d like to point out,” Cassian added with a grin, “that I wasn’t the one who broke a table for once.”

“That’s not something to be proud of, Cassian,” Nesta muttered beside him, though a faint smirk tugged at her lips.

The table settled back into a hum of conversation, though you couldn’t shake the tension that simmered beneath the surface. Every now and then, you caught Azriel glancing your way, his expression unreadable. And while you tried to keep your focus on the food in front of you, you couldn’t help but feel that this dinner was only the beginning of something far more complicated.

The flow of the dinner had been pleasant enough, though Azriel sitting beside you brought an odd energy you couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t uncomfortable, not entirely—but it was different. When it was just the two of you—working, talking, sharing quieter moments—it felt natural, even easy. But tonight, the dynamic felt... forced. Questions swirled in your mind: Did he sit next to you to make her jealous? Why let her mate sit next to her, then? You brushed the thoughts aside, trying to focus on the lively conversations around you.

Dessert was served, and you were half-listening to Feyre and Nesta talk about some shared anecdote when Elain stood abruptly, excusing herself. The movement caught your attention. Lucien’s worried gaze followed her, and when you glanced at Azriel, you noticed the same concern etched into his features. That expression.

The unease it stirred in you was compounded when Elain began moving around the table. Her steps faltered slightly, her balance uneven. You frowned, your healer’s instincts kicking in.

“Elain?” Feyre’s voice held a note of alarm as her sister stumbled closer to where you were seated.

You turned in your chair just in time to see Elain falter entirely. Without thinking, you shot up and caught her as she collapsed, her weight sudden but manageable in your arms. Her head lolled against your shoulder, and a collective gasp rippled through the room. All conversation ceased.

“Elain!” Feyre and Nesta rushed to her side, their faces pale with worry. Lucien moved swiftly to her other side, his hand hovering uncertainly as if unsure whether to touch her. Azriel was right behind him, his shadows curling protectively around him, his expression a mix of alarm and dread.

“Elain, can you hear me?” Feyre’s voice was tight with fear as she knelt beside her sister.

And then it happened. Elain’s eyes snapped open, but they were no longer the soft brown you were accustomed to. They were white—bright, glowing, and unseeing. The sight knocked the breath from your lungs, your grip tightening reflexively as the unnatural glow emanated from her.

“Elain,” Nesta whispered, her voice breaking as she grasped her sister’s hand.

“What’s happening to her?” Lucien demanded, his tone panicked.

You steadied Elain in your arms, trying to process what was happening. Your mind raced as you scanned her for any immediate signs of injury or distress. There was none—nothing physical, at least—but the way her body trembled, her unfocused eyes, sent chills down your spine.

“She’s having a vision,” Azriel said, his voice low and tight. 

Feyre nodded grimly at your question about Elain’s visions. “Yes,” she said, her voice tight. “But... she’s never reacted like this before.”

Elain’s body began trembling more violently, her breathing escalating into rapid, shallow gasps. You quickly moved, lowering her to the ground into a safer position, your movements precise and practiced. “Everyone step back,” you said firmly, your voice cutting through the panic in the room. “Give me space.”

The others obeyed, though their worry was palpable. Feyre knelt near but didn’t interfere, her face pale with fear. Lucien and Azriel hovered nearby, their expressions equally stricken. Nesta stood frozen, her hands clenched into fists.

Elain’s trembling worsened, transitioning into full-body spasms. You glanced sharply at Feyre. “Does she usually react like this?”

Feyre shook her head quickly. “No—this has never happened before.”

Your jaw tightened as you assessed her condition. “Alright,” you murmured, more to yourself than anyone else. With a swift motion, you opened Elain’s mouth and carefully inserted two fingers to hold her tongue down, ensuring she wouldn’t swallow it during the convulsions. Then, your free hand hovered just above her head.

You closed your eyes, focusing your power as it began to flow from you. A faint glow radiated from your hand, and your hair lifted as if caught in an unseen breeze. A hush fell over the room, everyone holding their breath as the air grew heavy under the weight of your power. Azriel’s sharp gaze was fixed on you, his shadows coiling around him in tension.

Elain’s spasms began to subside as your power guided her, pulling her gently from the grip of the vision. The glow from your hand intensified briefly before dimming, and her breathing evened out. Slowly, her body stilled.

Elain’s spasms began to subside as your power guided her, pulling her gently from the grip of the vision. The glow from your hand intensified briefly before dimming, and her breathing evened out. Slowly, her body stilled. But as the connection between you and her held firm, something shifted—a thread of her vision snagged onto your mind.

It happened so quickly that you didn’t have time to prepare. One moment you were guiding her back to reality, and the next, you were pulled into the recesses of her mind. Shadows enveloped you, thick and suffocating, until the world reshaped itself into the fragments of her vision.

The ground beneath you was barren, cracked, and lifeless. The air smelled of ash and decay, and the sky above was a swirling void of darkness. There were no stars, no moon—only an oppressive, smothering emptiness. Fires burned in the distance, their flickering light revealing the skeletal remains of a once-thriving land. This place had been wiped clean of life, erased by a force too terrible to comprehend.

You turned, searching for Elain in the chaos. And then you saw her. She stood just ahead, motionless, her expression vacant and unseeing as if she were a mere observer in this apocalyptic scene. You tried to call out to her, to reach her, but your voice was swallowed by the void. She didn’t seem to register your presence, her eyes fixed on the horror unfolding around her.

Your chest tightened, and you were about to take a step toward her when something else caught your attention. Movement in the periphery—a figure in the shadows. It was... you.

At first, you thought it might be a trick of the vision, a warped reflection, but the figure stepped into the light, and there was no mistaking it. It was you, yet not. This version of you was eerily calm, detached. You looked the same, but your expression held an unsettling stillness.

Then the change began. Blood trickled from your nose, then your ears, your eyes, and your mouth. The crimson streaks contrasted sharply against your pale skin, but you didn’t flinch or react. Instead, a faint smile curved your lips, haunting in its serenity.

Elain, still oblivious to your presence, stood frozen, her hand lifting to her mouth in silent horror as she watched the scene unfold.

And then, the darkness took shape. A hand, inky and unnatural, emerged from the shadows, its long, clawed fingers reaching toward the chest of the vision-you. The smile on your face remained as the hand struck in one swift motion, plunging into where your heart should have been.

You felt it. The phantom pain. The void. The absence.

You crumpled to the ground, lifeless, and the darkness seeped into the cracks of the earth, spreading like a disease. Elain whimpered softly in the vision, her form trembling as she stared at your fallen figure. 

The pull of the vision began to loosen, dragging you back to the present. You blinked, gasping for breath as you returned to your body, the sensation of your heart still pounding in your chest grounding you. Elain stirred beneath you, her breathing shaky as her eyes fluttered open.

Your mind reeled, the memory of what you had seen burning fresh in your mind. You didn’t know what the vision meant, but the chilling image of yourself—bleeding, smiling, heartless—was not something you would soon forget.

You exhaled, opening your eyes to see Elain staring up at you. Relief flickered in the room—until, without warning, her hand lashed out and slapped you hard across the face.

The shock reverberated through the room as everyone froze. You blinked, stunned by the sharp sting on your cheek. Slowly, you stood up, gripping the back of the chair nearest to you as if to steady yourself, your knuckles tightening against the wood. But your face remained calm, your expression carefully composed.

“Well,” you said dryly, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart, “that’s a new one.”

Feyre and Nesta immediately moved to Elain’s side, helping her sit up as she began to regain full awareness. “Elain, are you okay?” Feyre asked, her voice soft but worried.

Lucien stepped forward, his golden eye flashing with unease. “What happened? Why did she—”

“I don’t think she knew what she was doing,” you interrupted, your tone calm and measured, giving nothing away. You flexed your fingers subtly against the chair, grounding yourself as you continued. “It’s normal for someone to act unpredictably when coming out of a vision that strong.”

Feyre and Nesta gently guided Elain toward the stairs, murmuring reassurances as they helped her to her room. Lucien followed close behind, his expression tight with worry. Azriel, however, didn’t move. His gaze remained locked on you, golden eyes scanning your face with quiet intensity.

Slowly, you let go of the chair, shaking out the tension in your fingers. Your cheek still stung faintly, but it was nothing compared to the weight pressing heavily against your chest.

You sighed softly, glancing at the mess of plates and half-eaten desserts left on the table. It felt like the room itself had absorbed the tension of the evening, the air heavy and stifling.

Mother above, what a night. You straightened, smoothing down your sleeves as you regained your composure. 

Azriel crossed the room in a few swift strides, his shadows curling low around his feet. His hand lifted slowly, hesitating for the briefest of moments before his fingers brushed against your arm—light as a whisper but enough to make your breath catch.

“Are you okay?” His voice was low, almost a murmur, his thumb grazing your sleeve in a subtle, grounding motion.

You blinked, surprised by the question, by the weight in his tone. “I’m—” Your words faltered, the concern in his eyes throwing you off balance. “I’m fine.”

Cassian, ever the mood breaker, smirked. “Great catch, Y/N,” he said with a chuckle.

Azriel’s head turned slightly, casting Cassian a sharp side-eye that practically dripped with unspoken warning. His shadows flared briefly, wrapping tighter around his boots. Cassian raised a brow, but wisely said nothing more.

You tried to smile at Cassian, though it barely reached your eyes. “Thanks, Cassian” you said softly.

Azriel’s fingers tightened briefly on your arm before releasing you. His touch lingered like a ghost, the warmth of it seeping into your skin. His golden gaze remained locked on yours, searching, as though trying to read something written just beneath the surface.

“I’m fine,” you repeated, softer this time, more for him than for anyone else.

He studied you for a second longer, his shadows curling and unfurling around him. His thumb brushed the back of your hand in a fleeting gesture that felt more like a promise than a reassurance.

“Good,” he said quietly, his voice steady but thick with something you couldn’t quite place. “Let me know if… you need anything.”

For a moment, it felt like you were the only two people in the room, the air between you charged and warm. Then Azriel stepped back, his eyes lingering on you for a heartbeat longer before turning toward the others.

You turned to Rhysand, your voice calm but serious. “How do her visions usually go?”

Rhysand leaned against the edge of the table, his brow furrowed. “Not like that,” he admitted. “She usually comes back to herself without shaking or... whatever that was tonight.”

You nodded, thoughtful. “You’ll need to monitor her closely if this keeps happening. What happened tonight—especially the shaking—is essentially her brain short-circuiting, going on and off repeatedly. I stuck my fingers in her mouth not for pleasure but to prevent her from swallowing her tongue.”

Cassian let out a startled laugh at your bluntness, but you continued without pause. “I helped her out of the vision, but it could be the content of this particular one was too violent, causing her to react that way.”

Lucien, standing stiffly in the doorway, finally spoke. “And if it’s not controlled next time? What happens then?”

You met his gaze evenly, your tone steady but grave. “Asking me that is like asking what would happen if you put a soldier in a war field. There are options, but death is one of them. She could stay in the shaking state without being able to come back to herself or choke—but those are worst-case scenarios.”

The room was quiet as you continued, your voice calm but firm. “It could also completely be a one-time thing. But this is why it has to be monitored carefully.”

Amren leaned back in her chair, her sharp eyes on you. “Well, at least that was clear.”

You smirked faintly at her dry remark. “Clarity is what I aim for.”

Azriel’s eyes lingered on you, his shadows curling faintly around his shoulders as he listened intently.

“I could examine her further,” you added after a moment, “to see if there’s anything else that might explain what happened tonight. But I’d wait until she’s less shaken by it all. Right now, forcing her into anything might make things worse.”

Rhysand nodded, his expression thoughtful. “We’ll keep an eye on her and call for you if it happens again. For now, let’s give her some space to recover.”

Everyone seemed to agree with that plan, though Lucien still looked troubled. The room slowly eased out of its earlier tension, though the weight of what had just occurred lingered in the back of everyone’s minds.

Azriel’s gaze lingered on you, his golden eyes dark with worry. As the room shifted its attention to Feyre and Nesta returning, he leaned closer, his hand brushing lightly against your arm. The touch sent a ripple of awareness through you.

“Are you sure you are okay?” His voice was low, barely audible over the quiet murmurs of the others.

You blinked, caught off guard by the genuine concern in his tone. Was Azriel truly worried about you?

A soft smile tugged at your lips, and you shook your head lightly. “Don’t worry. A little slap isn’t going to kill me,” you said, throwing in a wink to lighten the mood.

Azriel’s lips quirked ever so slightly, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease entirely.

Feyre’s voice broke through the moment. “Elain’s sleeping now,” she said, her tone carrying both relief and exhaustion.

Lucien exhaled audibly, a wave of relief washing over his features. Feyre turned to you, her expression warm with gratitude. “Thank you for your help, Y/N. I don’t know what we’d have done without you.”

You nodded, brushing it off lightly. “I’m just glad I was here when it happened.”

Rhysand’s eyes flicked between Feyre and Nesta, his expression sharpening. “Did she tell you anything about her vision?”

The two sisters exchanged a weighted look, Feyre biting her lip before she finally spoke. “Yes,” she said hesitantly, glancing at Nesta for confirmation.

“It’s not good,” Nesta added, her voice steadier but no less grim.

The room fell silent again, everyone waiting for Feyre or Nesta to elaborate. The weight of whatever Elain had seen hung heavy in the air, and you couldn’t help but feel the knot of tension coiling tighter in your chest. Azriel’s hand lingered on your arm for a moment longer before he pulled it away, his expression hardening as he braced for whatever was coming next. 

Feyre exchanged a tense glance with Nesta, the silence thick and suffocating. Then, with a heavy sigh, Feyre began to explain, her voice trembling slightly.

“She told us about what she saw… about death, war, and darkness sweeping over everything. But the most terrifying part was…” Feyre’s voice broke, and she looked at Nesta to continue.

Nesta, ever composed, took over. “She saw you, Y/N. In the middle of it all. And…” She hesitated, her steel facade cracking for just a moment before she forced herself to say it. “She saw you...”

The room fell deathly silent, everyone frozen in place. Azriel, standing beside you, visibly tensed, his golden eyes narrowing as he processed the words.

You straightened, your expression unreadable. The weight of their words wasn’t new to you. You had already seen it yourself in Elain’s vision, and now, hearing it spoken aloud, it only cemented what you had felt.

“I know,” you said quietly, your voice steady but filled with an edge of resignation.

Every head in the room turned to you, confusion and shock flashing across their faces.

“You know?” Feyre asked, her voice almost a whisper.

You nodded slowly. “I saw it too. I’m not sure how, but when I guided Elain out of her vision, pieces of it came to me. I saw what she saw.”

Azriel’s voice cut through the stunned silence, sharp and filled with tension. “Saw what? What exactly did you see?”

You turned to face him, your gaze unwavering, though the effort to maintain your composure was immense. “I saw the moment I die, Azriel.”

The breath seemed to leave the room all at once. Even Amren, ever-unflappable, looked taken aback. Cassian, wide-eyed, shifted uneasily in his seat. Feyre and Nesta exchanged another tense glance, while Rhysand’s expression hardened, his jaw tightening.

“What do you mean, you saw yourself die?” Azriel pressed, his voice low and strained, his shadows coiling around him like a living entity. His hand hovered near your arm again, as though he wanted to hold on to you, to ground himself in your presence.

You gave a bitter smile, the weight of the truth pressing down on you. “Exactly what it sounds like. She saw me die, and so did I. What do you want me to say? It’s not a matter of if, but when.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, and the raw emotion in his eyes was almost unbearable to look at. “You can’t just… accept that,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with an edge of desperation. “There has to be something we can do. We can stop it—”

“You think I haven’t thought of that?” you interrupted, your tone sharp but not unkind. “I’ve lived long enough to know that sometimes, no matter what you do, fate has its way.”

Rhysand’s voice broke through, calm but commanding. “What exactly did you see, Y/N?”

You hesitated, the image flashing in your mind. The darkness, the war, and that final moment when everything stopped, and you fell. “I saw the world in chaos—death everywhere. And then I saw myself... my blood, my heart—gone. I felt it as much as I saw it.”

Azriel took a step closer to you, his shadows curling protectively around him. His golden eyes were locked onto yours, filled with something you couldn’t quite place. “I don’t accept that,” he said firmly. “We’ll find a way to stop it. Whatever it takes.”

For a moment, the room was quiet, everyone digesting the gravity of the revelation. Then Amren, leaning back in her chair, spoke up, her voice cool but filled with an edge of challenge. “If fate has marked you, Y/N, then the question is not if we can stop it, but what it will cost.”

Her words hung heavily in the air, a reminder of the uncertain path ahead. You swallowed hard, the weight of the vision and its implications pressing down on you. But even as the room seemed to drown in its tension, you squared your shoulders, lifting your chin.

“Whatever happens,” you said softly, “it doesn’t change what I need to do now. We have time—maybe not much, but enough to prepare.”

As the heavy silence settled in the room, you could feel the weight of everyone’s gaze on you. Rhysand’s sharp violet eyes held yours for a long moment before he finally spoke, his voice steady but laced with an undertone of unease. “Y/N,” he began, “would you allow me to see it? The vision?”

You hesitated, the thought of someone else witnessing what you had seen unsettling, but you nodded nonetheless. “Go ahead,” you said softly, standing your ground. Rhysand approached you carefully, his movements deliberate, as though he didn’t want to startle you.

His mental touch was gentle, like a soft whisper brushing against your thoughts. You let him in, showing him the fractured, haunting glimpses of the vision—darkness, war, your bloodied form crumbling to the ground.

When he pulled back, his expression was tight, his jaw clenched. A faint twitch betrayed his composed demeanor.

“Don’t pity me, Rhysand,” you said, your tone firm, though there was a flicker of something softer beneath it. “I died once. I’ve been blessed by the Mother, and I’ve accepted that one day, that favor will need to be returned.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and final. Azriel’s golden eyes locked onto you, his shadows coiling tightly around him. His expression was unreadable, but the look in his eyes was anything but. It was a mix of disbelief, worry, and something else you couldn’t quite place—something that made your chest tighten.

The tension in the room shifted, the atmosphere changing as people slowly began to disperse, their expressions ranging from solemn to thoughtful. Conversations were hushed, and one by one, the Inner Circle left to retreat to their rooms or find solace in other parts of the house.

You needed air. The weight of the vision, the discussions, and the gazes filled with unspoken questions were too much. Slipping out quietly, you made your way to the garden of the townhouse. The cool night air brushed against your skin, soothing in its simplicity. The stars above were bright, scattered across the inky sky like a promise of something eternal.

You found a bench near the center of the garden and sank onto it, tilting your head back to take in the view. The stars twinkled softly, distant and untouchable, yet strangely comforting. For a moment, you let yourself breathe, the crisp air filling your lungs as you tried to untangle the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

The quiet of the garden wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. After some time, you felt a presence approach—a familiar one—and moments later, a warmer jacket was draped over your shoulders. You turned your head slightly to see Azriel sitting down beside you, his movements careful and deliberate. He didn’t speak, didn’t try to fill the silence, and instead, he leaned back to look up at the sky, mirroring your own posture.

For a while, the two of you simply sat there, the stars above a quiet audience to the unspoken words lingering between you. Eventually, unable to bear the weight of the silence any longer, you turned to him and asked, “Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m doing here?”

Still gazing upward, Azriel’s voice was low, steady. “Once, someone told me that sometimes no words need to be spoken. But if you want to talk…” Finally, he turned his head to look at you, his golden eyes catching the faint moonlight. “I’m here.”

A small laugh escaped you, soft but genuine. “Are you actually quoting me?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

Azriel’s lips twitched into the barest hint of a smile. “Maybe.”

Your laughter faded into the cool night air, replaced by a quieter moment as the gravity of everything settled back in. After a moment, Azriel’s voice broke through the stillness, softer this time. “How?”

You turned to him, your brow furrowing slightly. “How what?”

“How can you accept what you saw so easily?” he asked, his gaze dropping to the ground as though the question was too heavy to lift.

You hesitated, unsure how to answer, then sighed. “I don’t know, Azriel. I really don’t.”

He exhaled softly, the sound tinged with frustration, and his voice was almost a whisper when he spoke again. “Don’t behave like your death won’t affect other people.”

Your breath caught at his words, and when you turned to look at him, his hand slowly reached out, his fingers brushing against yours before curling gently around your hand. His touch was warm, grounding.

“Like it won’t affect me,” he added, his voice barely audible now, but the weight of his words settled heavily between you.

Your eyes widened slightly, your heart stumbling over itself as you processed the raw honesty in his voice. You turned your gaze back to the sky, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat. After a long pause, you found the courage to ask, “When did you figure it out?”

Azriel’s grip on your hand tightened just slightly, as though he was anchoring himself to you. “Figure what out?” he asked, his tone cautious, even though you both knew exactly what you meant.

The bond hummed faintly between you, a quiet rhythm you’d learned to live with but had never fully embraced. You turned back to him, meeting his gaze directly, and whispered, “That I’m your mate.”

The moment stretched between you, heavy with emotions you had never allowed yourself to fully feel. Azriel's words hung in the air like an unanswered prayer, and when he finally spoke again, his voice was soft but resolute.

"The moment we nearly died on our way back from Dawn," he said, his gaze unwavering.

“Oh,” was all you could manage, your voice barely above a whisper. After a pause, he tilted his head slightly and asked, “And you? When did you know?”

Your throat tightened as you glanced away, searching for the courage to speak the truth. “When I saved your life at the House of Wind,” you admitted softly.

He was quiet for a moment, his golden eyes fixed on you. “Oh,” was his only response.

And then the question you had been dreading fell from his lips. “Why? Why haven’t you said anything?”

You turned sharply, your face a mask of incredulity. “Are you seriously asking me this now, Azriel? Look at you—with Elain.” Your voice broke slightly, but you steadied yourself. “I barely knew you at the time. What would you have wanted from me then? You loved her—or at least you thought you did. What would you have done if you were in my place?”

“I don’t love her,” he said firmly, cutting through your spiraling thoughts.

You shot him a sidelong glance, disbelief clouding your features. “Azriel, this—this is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you. I don’t want this to be forced.” You took a shaky breath, your voice trembling. “You deserve someone better, much better than me. And definitely not someone who’s... who’s destined to die soon.”

He tried to interrupt, his expression pained, but you raised a hand to stop him. “No, please. You’re one of the kindest, most selfless people I’ve ever met. You’ve dedicated your life to protecting others, to doing what’s right. And I—I just can’t, Azriel. I can’t give you what you deserve.”

You turned fully to him now, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. The heaviness in your chest felt unbearable, as if the weight of your fears and regrets were finally demanding release. “I work with death every day,” you began, your voice trembling but growing stronger with each word. “Every single day, I watch it take and take and take. I’ve seen families shattered into pieces—mothers begging me to save their children, lovers screaming for someone to bring their person back.”

Azriel’s gaze softened as he took in the storm of emotions pouring from you, his golden eyes following every movement as you began to pace. “I’ve had fathers collapse in my arms because I couldn’t save their wives. Sisters sobbing, clutching me like I was the only thing keeping them tethered to this world. And I...” You paused, pressing a trembling hand to your chest, the lump in your throat growing unbearable. “I can’t—I won’t—be the reason someone else ends up in that position because of me.”

The words tumbled from you, raw and unfiltered, as though they’d been waiting for this moment to escape. “Do you know what that’s like? To carry that? Every mistake, every failure—it haunts you. It lives inside you. And knowing that one day, I’ll be the one taken... that I could leave someone behind, someone I care about... I can’t do that to anyone, Azriel. I just can’t.”

Your steps faltered as the rawness of your confession left you breathless, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself as if you could hold yourself together through sheer will. Azriel remained silent, his eyes following you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. His shadows stirred softly at his feet, as though they wanted to reach out to you but were unsure how.

“Why do you think I’ve always left?” you demanded, turning toward him suddenly, your voice rising. “Why do you think I’ve never stayed anywhere for long? Why do you think I’ve never let anyone get close, too close to me? Why do you think I’ve never been able to have something... someone real?”

Your voice cracked on the last word, and you could feel yourself unraveling. “I’m terrified, Azriel. I’m terrified of death—of what it takes, of what it leaves behind. It’s not just the pain or the loss... it’s the emptiness it leaves in its wake. And I can’t bear the thought of someone else feeling that emptiness because of me.”

Snow began to fall softly around you, the first flakes catching in your hair and melting against your flushed cheeks. You barely noticed, your heart hammering in your chest as the emotions you’d kept buried for so long spilled out in a torrent. The cold air stung your lungs, but you welcomed it, letting it ground you.

Your knees buckled, and you sank to the ground as though the weight of your confession had finally crushed you. The snow gathered in the folds of your clothes, a stark contrast to the heat burning behind your eyes. “And I’m just so, so sorry that I’m your mate,” you choked out, your voice cracking as tears spilled freely down your face.

Azriel knelt beside you without hesitation, his movements slow and deliberate as though he were approaching something fragile. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into the warmth and steadiness of his chest as your sobs wracked your body. You clung to him, the snowfall around you a quiet witness to the storm raging inside you.

“I’m so sorry, Azriel,” you whispered again, your voice muffled against his shoulder. “I’m sorry I’m your mate. I’m sorry I can’t be what you deserve. I’m sorry for... for all of it.”

His arms tightened around you, his shadows curling protectively, almost soothingly. His voice was low and soft when he finally spoke, the words barely audible over the sound of your own broken breathing. “Don’t you dare apologize for being you,” he murmured, his tone steady, even as his own emotions threatened to break through.

The snow continued to fall, blanketing the garden in a quiet stillness that seemed to echo the rawness of the moment. Azriel’s warmth surrounded you, his presence grounding you even as the storm inside you raged on.

Azriel froze for a moment, his golden eyes locking onto yours, filled with something you couldn’t quite name—something that made your chest tighten. Slowly, almost reverently, his hands rose to gently cup your face, his calloused thumbs brushing away the tears streaking your cheeks. The tenderness in his touch made your breath catch, your heart thundering in your chest.

He tilted your head up, his shadows curling softly around your shoulders, as though they were trying to reassure you in their own way. “Look at me,” he murmured, his voice steady but laced with raw emotion. The words were both a command and a plea, grounding you in the storm of your thoughts. “Just... look at me.”

For a heartbeat, everything else fell away—the snow, the cold, the pain. It was just him, his golden eyes burning with an intensity that made your knees tremble even though you were already on the ground.

And then, without warning, his lips were on yours.

It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a lifeline. Gentle at first, as if he were afraid you’d shatter under his touch, but then deeper, insistent, grounding. A warmth spread through you, chasing away the chill of the snow, as if his very being was pulling you back from the edge. Your eyes widened in shock, your mind struggling to process what was happening. But then, as the bond between you pulsed like a drumbeat in your veins, you melted into him, your hands clutching at the fabric of his tunic as if letting go would undo you completely.

The bond roared to life, the connection between you blazing with an intensity that stole your breath. You felt it in every fiber of your being—a tether that had always been there, humming quietly in the background, now surging forward with undeniable force. His shadows wrapped around you, cocooning you in their embrace, a silent promise of safety and devotion.

The kiss broke, leaving both of you gasping for air, your foreheads pressed together. His hands didn’t leave your face, his thumbs still brushing against your skin, as though anchoring you to the moment. The bond pulsed between you, vibrant and alive, and you swore you could feel his heartbeat echoing in time with yours.

Azriel’s voice, when he finally spoke, was a low murmur, trembling with a quiet intensity that sent shivers down your spine. “Are you done?” he asked, his lips quirking into a faint, almost teasing smile. “Because it’s my turn to talk now.”

His words hung in the air between you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt something other than fear—hope.

Azriel’s gaze pierced through you, deep and unwavering, as though he was stripping away every wall you had ever built, leaving you bare before him. The snow continued to fall around you, cold and relentless, yet you barely noticed it. The world seemed to shrink to just the two of you, kneeling in the snow, your breaths mingling in the frosty air.

“Y/N,” Azriel began, his voice low but filled with a vulnerability you’d never heard from him before. “You are the person who’s made me see the world differently.” He paused, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. “The first moment I laid eyes on you, I felt... something. It was like I was drawn to you, like there was this force pulling me toward you, even though I didn’t understand it.”

His words were heavy, laden with emotion. You couldn’t look away, caught in the raw honesty of his confession.

“It took me months to figure out why,” he continued, his shadows curling faintly around him as though reflecting his inner turmoil. “Why I felt like I could tell you things I’ve never even told my brothers. Why, when I was with you, I didn’t feel like I had to hide the parts of me I’ve spent centuries locking away. It was as if you could see me—truly see me—and not turn away.”

Your heart ached at his words, your chest tightening with the weight of his emotions.

“I didn’t understand it at first,” he said, his voice softening. “Why I ended up at the clinic that night of the solstice. Why I fell asleep so easily in your space, a place that felt more like home than anywhere else has in years. Why, in Dawn, every moment I spent away from you felt wrong, like I was missing something vital. And then...” He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “When I saw you with Thesan, I felt this rage, this jealousy that I couldn’t explain. And that night, when the storm came, I accepted that I would die—because being with you in that moment, even if it was the end, felt right.”

His voice cracked, and you felt your breath hitch as his words pressed against the tender parts of your heart.

“And then you saved us,” Azriel whispered, his shadows curling around you both now, a silent embrace. “And the bond snapped into place, and everything suddenly made sense. And gods, I’ve hated myself every day since for talking to you about Elain—for putting you through that pain without even knowing it.”

You couldn’t stop the tears that slipped down your cheeks, and you reached up, placing your hand on his face. His golden eyes closed briefly at your touch, leaning into your palm as though it grounded him.

“And tonight,” he went on, his voice trembling with emotion, “when I saw you with Lucien, I felt it again. That jealousy. The way you smiled, the way you laughed with him... I wanted to be in his place so badly it hurt.”

His voice dropped to a whisper, thick with self-loathing. “And I know I don’t deserve you. Gods, I’ve been the worst to you. But, Y/N, you are everything I didn’t know I needed. You are smart, strong, considerate. You light up the room just by being in it. You make everyone around you better, just by existing. It is so, so easy to fall in love with you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, his words wrapping around you like a balm to your battered soul.

“And even if it’s for a year, or a month, or a single day,” Azriel said, his voice breaking, “I want to spend it with you. I want to be close to you, to be by your side, for however long we have.”

He reached out then, his hands trembling as they cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears. His gaze burned into yours, his bond thrumming with a quiet, steady pulse that matched your own. “Please, Y/N. Let me be with you.”

You let out a small, shaky laugh, the sound soft and almost disbelieving as it fell between your lips. Your head dropped forward, resting gently against Azriel’s chest, his shirt dampening slightly with your tears. The both of you had shifted completely onto the ground, no longer kneeling but sitting in the snow. You were nearly in his lap, his arms instinctively wrapping around you, pulling you closer as though he feared you might disappear.

“I-I just don’t want you to feel obligated because of what happened tonight,” you murmured against his chest, your voice trembling. “I don’t want this to be out of pity.”

Azriel stilled for a moment, and then his hands cupped your face with such gentleness it made your breath hitch. He tilted your head upward, his golden eyes meeting yours, before leaning down and kissing you again—deeper this time, the connection searing into your very soul. It wasn’t hurried or desperate but deliberate, a kiss that held every unspoken word, every ounce of feeling he hadn’t yet been able to say.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours, and his hand moved to your shoulder, grounding himself in your presence as his scent wrapped around you. His shadows curled around the both of you like a protective cocoon, their touch faint and reassuring.

“Never, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice raw and barely above a whisper. “Never out of pity. I’ve long made up my mind about how I feel about you. Even if everything feels like a mess—if everything is wrong—I will never fall in love with you out of pity.”

The last words were so quiet, they were almost inaudible, but you heard them. And they wrapped around your heart, filling the cracks you hadn’t even realized were there.

Your hands moved on instinct, slipping inside his jacket as you hugged him closer, seeking his warmth and steadiness. Your palm pressed gently against his back, and your fingers began tracing soft circles at the base of his wings. Whether it was to reassure yourself that this moment was real or to offer him comfort, you didn’t know. Maybe it was both.

Azriel let out a quiet sigh, his chin resting lightly against your head as he held you. The snow continued to fall around you, the icy flakes melting against the shared heat between you. Neither of you spoke for a long time, the silence filled with the steady rhythm of your breathing, the faint pulse of the bond humming quietly between you.

For the first time in a long time, you felt something you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in years: safe. And in Azriel’s arms, with his shadows weaving around you, it felt like you’d finally found the place where you belonged.

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[ihaznoclue]

Just recently came across your blog and saw requests were open again! I especially love the Sonic fics in the movieverse.

I’ve seen scenarios where there was a teen!Wachowski and is essentially a sibling to them. I thought it would be cute for something like Sonic, Knuckles, and maybe even Shadow (he’d have joined the family, obviously) acting protective brothers over their human sibling since they’re not nearly as strong or durable. Any scenario would do, though I can’t help but think of if it involved dating someone and they would react like: are they cool enough? Are they strong enough? Are they working for G.U.N.???

Anywho, if you get to this, I would like to see how you write it out. Thanks!

Omg yes I was thinking about something like this and I'm all for it!

Pairings -> Sonic the Hedgehog, Kunckles the Echidna, Shadow the hedgehog x Sibling Reader (platonic)

Warnings -> None

Note -> Them being protective over their human older sibling

Genre -> Fluff

Sonic The Hedgehog

I feel like he will be the less protective one out of the three of them

He would probably ask a lot of questions though to get some information about them if you were dating someone

But in all seriousness I feel like he would help you

Since he thinks he's the most romantic guy out there

Sonics just a goof, a dork

"You have a what!?" Sonic screamed out which made you quickly cover his mouth as you shushed him

"Be quiet Sonic, Mum and Dad doesn't know yet, dad would probably freak out if I told him now" You spoke out

Sonic moved you hand as he was awe "Aww you told me before anyone else?" Sonic was so happy that you told him

"But in all seriousness, what are they like?" Sonic asked "Are they cool? Sporty? Popular?"

"Woah calm down, I will tell you everything, just don't tell the other though, I'll tell them myself soon"

"Tell me the details Sib"

Knuckles The Echidna

He would be the protective one besides Shadow

Like he doesn't want your heart to be broken by a weakling

But you reassure him that this person was really sweet and wouldn't do anything to hurt you

"A what now?" Knuckles asked, Knuckles wasn't quite familiar with the term partner so you explained it to him in a simple way

"A partner is where me and that people are together in a relationship where we love each other" You explained to him hoping he would get it

Knuckle just nodded, his face still in a frown while his arms was crossed against his chest

"Are they strong enough to protect you, If not then they are not worthy of your kindness" Knuckles huffed

You just rolled your eyes "I hope they are, but please Knuckles they are really sweet and wouldn't let anything happen to me I promise"

"Have you told the others" Knuckles asked

"I did tell Sonic, but later I will tell Shadow and hope that goes well"

"You should tell him now"

Shadow The Hedgehog

Oh boy

This was going be a long conversation with you and Shadow

Shadow was quite the grumpy and protective type

You knew he was gonna ask questions about them anyway

"Hey Shads" You greeted him while he was sitting down the comfy couch

"Hey" He gruff, as he watched the TV in front of him, "I need to tell you something"

Shadow the turned off the TV then looked at you

"Are you hurt?"

"No! no I'm not I just need to speak to you about something"

"That is?"

"I have a partner"

His ear flicked at that word, he was then processing what you just said than it finally clicked

"You mean that you are in a relationship with someone?"

You nodded "Yep" Nervously sweating

"Are they secretly working for G.U.N? Are they strong enough to protect you? What if they hurt you later in the future?"

"Woah slow down Shadow, No they don't work for G.U.N if they did then I wouldn't be with them"

Shadow stared at you then sighed

"I will be fine Shads, If anything happens I know you and the others will protect me"

-A<3

[astronnova]

cringe is dead right? anyway made up some danny phantom ocs. say hi to carly and carla, aka lee and la. do you get it? because the vampiress carmilla? do you get it? do you get the joke. do you ge- [gets shot]

i wanted to combine some of my favorite tropes for these two. i looove battle twins in media especially when they're side characters. like the twins from the book of life or something. i love battle maids/battle nuns too so. theres that. i also thought that they'd make some fun minions of vlad's. anyway heres a lot of headcanons and their story. to me. in my head.

instead of vlad's estate being a literal castle, to go with his vampire and gothic themeing instead i thought it would be badass as hell if he lived in a refurbished cathedral. he's over the top enough for it.

lee and la were twins who werent the best people, tho certainly not the worst, kind of middle of the road, when they eventually joined the church and became nuns to turn their lives around. though their old lives catch up to them and they're murdered in the church one night. their deaths causes the cathedral to be condemned and abandoned. a couple decades later, the dairy king buys the property and refurbishes it into a manor that he lives in until he passes, which is then where vlad steps in

vlad's a powerful ghost, and the way im assuming haunting works is that powerful ghosts claim territory to.... haunt yknow? dannys having territory spats with other ghosts because amity is his home/haunt, that kind of thing lol. so vlad's already OP as hell, by the time he's become rich enough to buy the manor he's highly respected as a millionaire and highly feared as plasmius (the wisconsin ghost? he probably has a cool moniker people use LOL). im sure vlad had no problem forcefully expelling ghosts from his territory and.... destroying them? second killing? who knows man lol afterlife makes that difficult to explain.

vlad makes quick work of getting rid of any ghosts that try to stay in the manor the second he moves in. lee and la arent the most powerful ghosts in the area, but they are the most prominent since their murder caused a lot of folklore to surround the church, and theyre the most attached to it and dont want to leave it behind.

they're also scared enough of plasmius that i imagine they just cry and beg and grovel at vlads feet begging him to let them stay and they'll do anything. vlad atp i feel would do all of the "dirty work" himself when it comes to ghost stuff, so he thinks maybe they wouldnt be so bad to take on as errand girls. so he does, he lets them stay under the condition they do whatever he tells them to whenever he says. they agree instantly

vlad in the show is def not above manipulating, threatening, or paying off others to do dirty work for him, so i think itd be cool or smth to have lee and la be the ones that were first added to the plasmius payroll. and then the buzzards, and the others, etc.

itd be funny i think that they're reoccuring side kicks that are this mix of like. team rocket but not as incompetent, but they are kind of goofy. they annoy the hell out of vlad when he's near them though, which has become more often since i think to pass them off to other people he'd act like they're his secretaries or something. or like their job and relation towards vlad changes everytime we see them like how team rocket always have different disguises LOOOL. tho they prob have to cover up more and stuff to not look... yknow... dead. i like to think ppl in danny phantom can be more or less sensitive to spiritual stuff, so the more sensitive you are the more lee and la would cause your creep factor to go off.

so for bitter reunions they probably dont do much except protect the buzzard ghosts for phantom and then skedaddle when plasmius shows up to fight him. they probably act as vlads "hired help" for throwing the reunion and jack makes a horrible first impression on both of them somehow. idk i just think itd be really funny if they hated jack and maddie HAHA.

idk to me vlad has a "scar and the hyenas" from the lion king vibe with them. hes like "god im surrounded by idiots" everytime he hears them speak

though i guess one important thing to note is that theyre Not his daughters! the whole point with these two is to emphasize the fact that plasmius is lonely. danny has two friends that, despite danny's immense power, are all equal. they love eachother, look out for eachother and care for eachother no matter what. lee and la may liven up the room whenever they're around, but they're ultimately scared of vlad and stick around for their own sake. over the years they've probably come to like him some, but they're still driven by fear. they're not equals, theyre underlings.

[girlokwhatever]

ooou could you do paige x reader who joined kks live once (like she thought she was cute and they started talking ykwimmmm)

IKWYMMMM

✩ ₊˚.🎧⋆☾⋆✧₊ ⊹ nice surprise,,

paige bueckers x fem!reader

part two

“yo, that girl’s picture is nice,”

“PAIGE… girly pop.. which one?”

paige is pointing to your profile picture and saying your username out loud to kk, who’s hosting the live.

you don’t even have your phone, it was your roommate that joined the live. she had commented a few times and paige saw, zoning in on your picture. she thought you were pretty. to be fair, you loved your profile picture. it was you in a floor-length sundress and sunglasses, holding your younger brother’s hand.

kk takes advantage of paige’s blabber mouth, deciding to add you to the live and make her friend talk to you.

your roommate is freaking out, screaming your name and running into the kitchen where you’re cooking dinner.

“GIRL TAKE YOUR PHONE RIGHT NOW-“

“what did you do-“

you look on your phone screen and see the live, the faces of your college’s women’s basketball team staring back at you. you recognize some of them easily, paige bueckers and kk are two.

your roommate, evie, is leaning over to you and whispering that “paige saw your profile picture and thinks you’re cute so they invited you to the live but it wasn’t really you it was me so i’m bringing it to you so you can get game girl-“

she’s talking so fast you hardly even register what she’s saying. you practically feel your jaw hit the floor and your eyes widen at evie, then at the live, then back to evie. she’s grinning and winking at you like she’s just won you the lottery.

“guys this is her..”

“HEYYY GIRL! my friend here, paige- PAIGE boo stop playin. anyway, my friend paige thinks you’re cute.”

“oh! hey guys!” you’re waving gently and smiling. paige practically ran off screen and you think you might do the same. you’re a little camera shy and the hundreds of people watching doesn’t help anything.

you catch the way paige is peaking her head over the side of the screen and kk pulls her back down quickly. now you’re both looking straight at each other, a silent understanding of how awkward this moment is.

“heyyy, i’m pagie,”

she’s also smiling and waving and kk is in hysterics, as is evie. as terribly awkward as this is, you think paige is very nice looking as well. her wavy hair is down past her shoulders and she’s wearing a uconn jacket with pajama pants on. you’re dressed similarly in your pj’s and a sweater. but you’re definitely embarrassed because you have on an iowa sweater you got from your dad (it’s where he went).

“so you’re an iowa fan?” kk is asking you, one eyebrow raised. you’re blushing a deep shade of red now and hiding your face by pushing your phone back towards your roommate.

what is even happening?

“no guys trust she’s uconn all the way. we watch the games all the time.” evie is answering for you, pushing the phone into your hands again. you can’t tell if you want this moment to end or not.

“that’s good cause paige doesn’t mess with iowa y’know-“

“what?! i never said that! i never said that. iowa is cool.” she’s talking to you now, probably trying to make you feel better. you think it’s sweet how panicked she is. you feel the same.

“so.. girly pops.. do you wanna date paige?”

“kk! what- what kind of question is that?!”

both you and paige are equally gobsmacked but evie is yelling out in the background that you do want to date her.

“i.. um,”

“you definitely don’t have to answer that ma, ignore her please.”

kk is dying laughing and evie is too from her seat against the counter. paige is taking the phone and walking away, yelling at kk to be quiet and stop embarrassing her. you’re laughing a bit too but cover it up for a simple smile.

paige is really cute, you think.

“hey, look, i would actually take you out on a date.. if you want?”

you’re silent for a moment, looking up at evie with shock. never did you ever imagine that paige bueckers would be asking you out on a date, especially not on a tiktok live.

“um, yeah. yes. i would like that.”

she’s got this cheesy smile on her face, turning the phone away for a second. “alright, i’ll dm you. it was nice to meet you. i wasn’t expecting this but it was a really nice surprise.”

“yeah, it was.”

later that night she’s messaging you on instagram asking for your number. she decides to facetime you, apologizing for the whole live and saying she wishes she could see you in person instead.

next thing you know, you’re giving her your dorm location and number and she’s on her way to see you. you consider yourself extremely lucky for such a nice surprise.

⋆·˚ ༘ *🔭.ೃ࿐🀥☽｡⋆𓍯 ִֶָ.

I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED THIS!!

it’s a bit different but i really like it

[leashybebes]

Idk, maybe it is a little odd but "♟: Patching up a wound", if you want :)

may i offer you a little superhero au in these trying times? don't blame me, blame lou's goddamn superman jawline

"Buck, I'm sending someone to your apartment," Athena says, with no preamble.

"Uh…what? Who?"

"Don't ask questions. He needs stitches."

"He needs stitches? Shouldn't you send him to Hen or Chim or - or a hospital?"

"What did I just say about asking questions? Hen and Chimney aren't options. He should be with you in fifteen minutes. He'll have equipment, but get your first aid kit just in case."

"Wait, Athena - "

"Bye, Buck."

The night is as dark and quiet as it ever gets in downtown LA. Buck paces up and down the loft a couple of times, never straying far from the front door. Which is why he doesn't hear anything to give him any warning before there's a single, loud thump from the balcony, followed by a groan that's audible even through the closed glass.

By the time he gets to the door, a figure is pulling itself to its feet, using Buck's outdoor furniture for help.

What the fuck, Buck thinks, but opens the door anyway.

"Athena send you?" he checks.

"A lot of men fall from the roof onto your balcony?" A deep voice asks, sounding pained. What the hell has Athena gotten him into?

"Fair," Buck says, and hurries to get one shoulder under the guy's arm, hauling him further upright and helping him stagger inside.

In the light of the loft, he can see that the guy has some kind of cowl covering most of his face, just a strong jaw where a bruise is starting to blossom and a cleft chin and a pair of pink lips set into a firm line. The cowl is the same dark blue as the rest of his outfit which is some kind of…jumpsuit maybe, with flashes of silver at the wrists and - hooooooly shit.

"Holy shit," Buck breathes, unable to help himself. "You're The Pilot!"

"No autographs, kid."

"Athena hates you!"

"Sergeant Grant and I have a complicated professional relationship," The Pilot says, while Buck bites back approximately a million questions. "She said you would be able to help."

"I mean - I haven't actually given anyone stitches before," Buck admits. "But I've watched Hen and Chim - I work with them, they're paramedics - I've watched them do it like a hundred times. I don't know why Athena didn't send you to one of them…" he says, fishing a little.

"Long story," The Pilot says, and Buck helps him get seated on one of the kitchen stools. "You were closer."

"Okay," Buck says. "What's the damage?"

"Knife got through a couple of plates in the suit."

"Wait, this thing is armor plated? That's so cool!"

"Glad you approve. Here." The Pilot pulls at a previously invisible join in his suit, revealing a long gash across his ribs. It's bleeding sluggishly, not too deep, but the skin around it is angrily red.

"That might get infected," Buck says, chewing his lip.

"Need you to clean it. Please."

"Okay," Buck says. "Do you want some water?"

"That…would be great, actually."

He drinks from the glass of water Buck hands him while Buck works on cleaning the wound. He tries his best to be gentle but the guy doesn't even flinch. Which, of course he doesn't. He's a literal superhero. There is a literal superhero in Buck's loft and he can't help it anymore.

"I've seen you before," he says. "On scenes. I'm a firefighter."

"I know."

"Athena, right, of course." Buck washes his hands again and gets what he needs from the first aid kit.

"Before we get started, can I ask you a question?"

The Pilot shrugs. "You can ask."

Buck takes a deep breath. "Where do you get your suits? And why do you do this? And can you really fly? And what's your real name?"

Through the gap in the cowl, pretty blue eyes blink at him. "That wasn't a question. I can't tell you where I get the suits or what my real name is. I can fly light aircraft and helicopters but I can't fly fly. And I do this because people need help, and I can help."

"That's so cool. My name's Evan Buckley, by the way."

"Hi, Evan Buckley." The Pilot's lips curve into a smile for the first time. "Great to meet you. Now can you stitch me up before I bleed on your floor?"

[lovelybucky1]

1.The Interview

main masterlist

go greek masterlist

“So you’re interested in being our frat sweetheart?” Joaquin asks, a comically confused look on his face. He holds your resume in his hand but hasn’t read a single word on it.

“Yes, that’s why I’m here,” you say, now matching his confusion. “The position is open, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s open. I guess I’m just confused about why you’d want it. I mean…” he looks down at your resume and begins reading. “Secretary of the Environmental Action Club, Co-Editor of the newspaper, English Honors Society, Treasurer of the Feminism Collective. This is all very impressive, but I gotta say, you’re not the usual frat sweetheart type.”

“Well, involvement in Greek Life looks good on resumes and I’m not interested in joining a sorority, so I thought this was the next best thing,” you explain.

Joaquin nods in understanding. “Got it. I’m gonna be completely honest here, I’m not really sure how an interview for this kind of thing is supposed to go. Usually, sweethearts are just one of the guy’s girlfriends, but we’re all single. All the other frats have someone to design cool posters and take pictures and stuff, and we need to look appealing to the PNMs.”

“I do have experience doing social media for the Environmental Club, and I did photography for the Theater department last semester. I’m pretty crafty so I’m sure I can make some party decorations and stuff like that.

Joaquin leans back in the wooden chair that’s likely older than him. He crosses his arms over his chest and the muscles in his arms bulge against his shirt sleeves. “You are definitely way overqualified for us. I just have one more question,” he says. “Do you party?”

You pause. You knew your personal social life would come into question eventually. It’s not like you don’t have friends, you have a great network of people you love to spend time with. You just happen to spend that time doing things other than blacking out and vomiting on a basketball player’s shoes in a sweaty basement.

“Is that a requirement of the job?” you counter.

“Being the sweetheart is more than just a job. Like, yeah, you’ll have responsibilities, but you’ll also be a member of the frat. We strongly encourage all the guys to attend the parties. It’s the whole brotherhood part of it. You wouldn’t have to go to all of them if you don’t want to, but making an appearance at least a couple times a month would be best.”

You suppose a couple of parties a month wouldn’t hurt. You have been meaning to get out more anyway.

“I think I can manage that,” you smile.

“Perfect! Do you have any questions?” You shake your head. “Then I think we have just found the newest member of SAE.”

He grins cheerfully and extends his hand for you to shake. His grasp is firm and warm, and it lingers a touch too long. Before he could say anything else, two men walk through the front door.

You turn around and find Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, the President and Treasurer. You recognize them from the sports articles you’ve read in the paper. Print certainly doesn’t do the pair justice, because you had no idea that guys this attractive even went to your college.

“Buck, Steve, I want you to meet our sweetheart!” he says.

You can’t help but feel a bit shy in front of them, but you smile and introduce yourself as normally as possible. Steve gives you a charming, classic Hollywood smile and you almost swoon. Bucky is just as handsome but in a rougher way that screams trouble.

They’re both sweaty and flushed, fresh from practice. They’re holding lacrosse sticks and wearing matching team backpacks like you’ve seen all the student-athletes have. Steve is in a red Stark University tee and Bucky is in a black crewneck sweatshirt with the same logo.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Steve says. “I know being a sweetheart has a certain reputation, but I promise you that nothing like that is expected of you.” You’re not exactly sure what he’s referring to, but you could take a pretty good guess. One woman in a house full of frat guys… It doesn’t take a genius.

“That’s reassuring, thank you,” you smile. It feels weird to be thanking him for not wanting to sleep with you, but you weren’t sure what else to say.

“Are you free tomorrow at 4? We have a chapter meeting and I’d love for you to meet the guys,” Steve asks.

“Yes, I’m free,” you say. “Are meetings every Sunday?”

“More or less. It really depends on how hungover everyone is,” he jokes. That smile is blinding. “But none of the teams have practice that late on Sundays and everyone is usually free, so that’s when we try to do them. We’d really like it if you came to as many events as possible to take pictures and stuff, but also because you’re a member too.”

“Sounds good to me,” you say.

Bucky is still standing next to Steve but lets him do all of the talking. He seems more focused on trailing his eyes over every inch of your body. You dare a glance, and the smirk that forms on his lips when your eyes meet is nothing short of devilish.

“We don’t wanna take up any more of your time, I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than let Steve talk your ear off” Bucky chimes in, nudging his friend with his elbow.

“I do have some work I need to catch up on,” you say, then immediately regret it. Why did you have to pick the lamest thing to say? Bucky and Joaquin share a look, both with a small smirk on their lips.

“Do you want me to walk you back to your dorm?” Steve asks.

“Take a load off, Steve. I can do it,” Bucky offers.

“Really, guys, you just came back from practice. I can walk her back,” Joaquin chimes in.

You look between the three of them, wide-eyed. You’ve never had this much attention from guys who looked this good before.

“It’s okay!” You speak up. “I can walk by myself, it’s not a problem.”

The three are unfazed by the rejection. “Okay, but you’re part of the family now. We’ve all got your back,” Steve says.

You nod in understanding and wish them a good evening before hurrying out the door, not wanting to make a bigger fool of yourself. You’re not sure how it turned from a professional interview, something you’ve done a thousand times, to you becoming a flustered mess.

As you walk down the sidewalk back to your building, you shake your head. This is just another club you’ve joined. It can’t be different than running the newspaper or the painting club. And those guys were just being friendly, there’s no reason to look into it any deeper than that.