#sarah burn

[neurovarious]

Burn, Patrick Ness

"I remain a dragon,"

"It would be wise not to forget that, no matter how I am shaped."

this is a based book

[hauntedbythenarrative]

[batboysanonymous]

A Taste of Silence

Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Rhys's drunken words cut deeper than any blade, leaving Y/n questioning everything she thought she knew about their bond. As heartbreak and betrayal collide, she faces a choice that could shatter the fragile threads holding their world together.

Pt. II

Word Count: 2.8k

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The sun was setting behind the mountains of Velaris, casting a warm, golden glow over the City of Starlight. Y/N dismounted her horse with a wince, her muscles sore from the journey home. The mission Rhysand had sent her on had been grueling, stretching over several days, but she’d completed it with the determination and precision he’d come to rely on. She’d long since earned her place among the Inner Circle, proving time and again that she was more than just Rhys's mate—she was an integral part of his court.

Yet tonight, as she climbed the steps to the townhouse, exhaustion weighed heavy on her. Her bond with Rhys hummed faintly, a soft reminder of his presence as she opened the door. Laughter and the faint clink of glasses drifted from the sitting room, mingling with the scent of wine and smoke. She paused, her hand tightening on the doorknob.

The Inner Circle had gathered. Normally, the thought of reuniting with them after days apart would lift her spirits, but something about the atmosphere tonight felt… off.

She stepped inside, her movements quiet, and stopped just outside the doorway to the sitting room.

“—and she just doesn’t get it sometimes,” Rhysand’s voice rang out, slurred and slightly louder than usual. The unmistakable tone of drunkenness coiled in his words.

“She tries,” Mor said defensively, but Y/N could hear the restraint in her tone. “And she succeeds, Rhys. Far more than you give her credit for.”

“She makes everything harder,” Rhys countered, his laugh bitter. “Always asking questions, always needing to insert herself into things she doesn’t understand. Do you know how many times I’ve had to clean up after her?”

Y/N felt the breath leave her lungs. She leaned against the wall for support, her vision blurring as his words sank in.

“That’s not true,” Feyre said sharply. “Y/N has done nothing but prove herself over and over. You’re being unfair.”

“Am I?” Rhys pressed. “She doesn’t belong in this court, not like the rest of you. She’s… reckless. And it’s exhausting.”

“She’s your mate, Rhys,” Amren snapped, her voice cutting through the tension. “She’s part of this family. And you’re making a fool of yourself right now.”

Y/N’s chest ached, each word from Rhys like a dagger to the heart. The bond between them flared painfully, as if sensing her anguish. She wanted to storm in, to defend herself, to demand he explain how he could say such things after everything she’d sacrificed for him, for this court. But her body felt frozen, pinned by the weight of his betrayal.

Her hands trembled as she stepped back into the hallway, her breaths shallow. She couldn’t do this. Not tonight. She needed space, time to think, to process the heartbreak that threatened to consume her.

She turned toward the front door, intent on leaving, when a shadow shifted in the corner of the room. Azriel emerged, his piercing gaze meeting hers. His expression tightened as he took in her tear-filled eyes and trembling hands.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice low and careful.

She shook her head, a silent plea for him to let her go. Azriel hesitated, his shadows curling around him like a shield, but he stepped aside. Without another word, Y/N slipped out the door and into the cool night air.

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When the laughter in the sitting room died down, and the conversation shifted, Rhysand finally noticed the absence of a presence he hadn’t realized he’d been craving all night. He frowned, his drunken haze thinning just enough for the bond to nudge at his consciousness. It was too quiet.

“Where’s Y/N?” he asked, glancing around the room.

Silence greeted him.

Feyre’s lips pressed into a thin line. “She came home. She was standing in the hallway while you were… talking.”

The words hit him like a physical blow. His blood ran cold as realization sank in. “She heard me?”

Azriel’s dark gaze bore into him, his voice a quiet blade. “She heard everything.”

Rhysand shot to his feet, his heart pounding. He reached for the bond, but all he felt was a wall of pain and silence.

“Where is she?” he demanded, panic sharpening his tone.

Azriel crossed his arms. “Gone. She didn’t say where. She looked like she wanted to run as far from you as possible.”

Rhysand staggered back, his mind racing. The wine turned to bile in his stomach, his shame and regret coiling tighter with each passing second. He had to find her. Had to fix this.

But as he winnowed into the night, desperation clawing at him, one thought echoed in his mind.

He wasn’t sure if she’d ever let him fix it.

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Rhysand searched the city in a frenzy, the bond stretched taut with Y/N’s pain and his own spiraling guilt. He winnowed to every corner of Velaris, the glow of the stars above mocking his desperation. He tried to reach her through their bond, but her end was firmly shut—a silence louder than any scream.

“Damn it, Y/N,” he hissed under his breath as he scanned the Rainbow District. The cool night air did nothing to temper the heat of panic coursing through him.

Where would she go?

His mind raced, and finally, he stopped fighting the bond. Though she’d shut him out emotionally, he could still trace her faint physical presence, the residual pull that tied them together. When he caught the direction, his heart sank.

The forest.

The place where they’d once picnicked under the stars, where she’d whispered her dreams to him like secrets she trusted him to hold forever. The place she’d deemed her safe haven.

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Winnowing to the clearing, Rhysand stumbled upon her sitting beneath the massive oak at its center. Moonlight danced across her tear-streaked face as she cradled her knees to her chest. She looked so small, so fragile, and it made his heart ache.

“Y/N,” he called softly, stepping closer.

She stiffened but didn’t look at him. “Go away, Rhys.”

Her voice, usually so vibrant, sounded hollow.

“I can’t,” he said, dropping to his knees a few feet from her. “Not like this.”

“Not like what?” she snapped, finally meeting his gaze. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her expression hard. “Not like the mess you made, Rhysand? Or not like the words you spewed about me to the people I consider family?”

He flinched at the venom in her voice. “I was drunk, Y/N. I—”

“Don’t,” she cut him off sharply. “Don’t use that as an excuse. Drunk or not, you said what you meant.”

He reached out as if to touch her, but she leaned away, her walls firmly in place. The bond between them hummed weakly, a pale reflection of what it once was.

“You’re right,” he admitted, his voice raw. “I said those things. But I didn’t mean them—not the way they came out. I was an idiot, and I—”

“Stop,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “You said I make everything harder. That I don’t belong. So, I’ll make it easy for you.”

His heart dropped. “Y/N, please don’t—”

“No,” she said firmly, standing up. She towered over him, her presence fierce despite the anguish etched into her face. “You wanted me to stay out of things I don’t understand? Fine. I won’t ask questions anymore. I won’t ‘insert myself’ into your precious plans. I’ll do exactly what you want, Rhys. I’ll disappear into the background, a perfect little shadow in your court.”

His chest tightened painfully as her words sank in. “That’s not what I want.”

“Isn’t it?” she challenged, her voice rising. “Because it’s exactly what you said, Rhysand. And for once, I’m giving you exactly what you asked for.”

She turned on her heel and began walking away, her shoulders trembling with restrained emotion.

Rhys scrambled to his feet, following her. “You’re twisting this! I don’t want you to disappear, Y/N. I need you. I was a fool to say those things, but you—”

“But nothing,” she snapped, spinning back around to face him. “You don’t get to need me only when it’s convenient, Rhys. You don’t get to humiliate me and then expect me to act like it didn’t happen. I gave you everything—my loyalty, my love, my trust. And you threw it in my face.”

The weight of her words was crushing, and he couldn’t bring himself to argue. She was right.

“I’ll come home,” she said after a long silence, her voice quieter now but no less firm. “Because Velaris is my home, and the Inner Circle is my family. But you…” Her breath hitched, and for a moment, he thought she might cry. Instead, she steadied herself. “You are no longer my priority, Rhysand. If you want my forgiveness, you’re going to have to earn it. Every. Single. Day.”

With that, she winnowed away, leaving him standing in the empty clearing, the bond between them a cold echo of what it used to be.

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Back at the townhouse, Y/N strode in with her head held high, her expression blank. The Inner Circle, still gathered in the sitting room, fell silent as she entered.

“Y/N,” Feyre started, but Y/N held up a hand.

“I’m fine,” she said tightly. “I just need some rest.”

They watched her ascend the stairs, none of them daring to stop her.

Moments later, Rhysand appeared in the doorway, his face pale, his steps heavy as he entered the room.

“She didn’t forgive you, did she?” Mor said quietly, her arms crossed.

He shook his head, his throat tightening. “No.”

“And she shouldn’t,” Amren said coldly, her sharp eyes narrowing. “Not until you prove you deserve it.”

Rhysand said nothing, the truth of her words settling like a stone in his gut.

As he made his way upstairs, he stopped outside their bedroom door. His hand hovered over the handle, but he didn’t go in. He could feel her inside, her grief and anger rippling through their bond.

For the first time in centuries, the High Lord of the Night Court felt powerless.

And he deserved every second of it.

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The days following that fateful night were a study in contrasts for the Night Court. Y/N returned to her duties, carrying herself with a grace and efficiency that made it impossible to find fault in her actions. She was polished, precise, and perfect—exactly what Rhysand had drunkenly claimed she wasn’t.

Rhys felt the weight of her words in everything she did, a pointed reminder of how deeply he had wronged her.

“You wanted me to disappear into the background,” she had said. And she did.

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Y/N began arriving precisely on time to every meeting, her notes already prepared, her insights delivered in a calm, detached manner. She offered no questions, no debates, just the bare necessities required of her position.

“Any thoughts, Y/N?” Rhys asked one afternoon during a strategy meeting with the Inner Circle.

She met his gaze for the briefest of moments, her expression unreadable. “None, my lord. I’ll carry out the plan as outlined.”

The title, usually reserved for formal settings, felt like a slap to his face. Rhys clenched his jaw, watching her retreat into herself. The warmth she used to bring into the room, the way her laughter used to lighten even the heaviest of conversations, was absent.

“I think this plan could use some fine-tuning,” Cassian interjected, attempting to draw Y/N out.

“I trust the High Lord’s judgment,” she replied coolly, gathering her papers. “If that’s all, I’ll begin preparations immediately.”

She left the room without looking back, leaving a heavy silence in her wake.

“She’s killing you,” Mor said after a moment, her tone uncharacteristically sharp.

“She’s killing herself,” Amren corrected, her silver eyes narrowing. “But only because he killed her first.”

Rhys lowered his head, guilt an anchor in his chest. “I deserve this,” he muttered, the words tasting bitter on his tongue.

“And then some,” Feyre added softly, though her voice carried an edge of sympathy.

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At home, Y/N’s silence was even more deafening. She no longer sat beside him on the couch, opting for the farthest seat in the room. She no longer joined him for late-night talks, instead retreating to her private quarters with a book or a report.

Even when they shared the same bed, she was miles away. She would slip under the covers after he’d pretended to fall asleep, her body curled tightly on the far edge of the mattress. The bond between them, once a vibrant tether of love and warmth, was now a fragile thread, stretched so thin it felt ready to snap.

Rhys tried everything he could think of. He filled her favorite garden with fresh blooms, sent her favorite meals to her office, even wrote her letters apologizing for his thoughtless words.

Each attempt was met with polite acknowledgment but no real response.

“I don’t need gifts, Rhysand,” she said one evening when he’d tried to present her with a rare necklace from one of his travels. Her voice was calm but firm. “I need respect. I need trust. And I need time.”

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Weeks passed like this, each day a slow torture. The bond hummed faintly with her sadness, but it was muffled, guarded, as though she was shielding herself from him entirely.

One night, Rhys found her in the library, poring over mission reports. She looked so tired, her usually radiant features shadowed with exhaustion.

“Y/N,” he began hesitantly, leaning against the doorframe.

She didn’t look up. “What do you need, Rhys?”

“I need you to talk to me,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “I need to know how to fix this.”

She finally raised her eyes to meet his, and he wished she hadn’t. The emptiness in her gaze was a knife to his heart.

“You want to fix this?” she asked, her tone devoid of emotion. “Then prove to me that I’m more than just a burden to you. Show me that I’m not some inconvenient addition to your perfect court.”

“I never thought you were—”

“Stop,” she interrupted, her voice rising for the first time in weeks. She stood, the papers in her hands trembling. “You did, Rhysand. You said it yourself. And I believed you. I believed every word.”

Her admission was like a punch to the gut, and Rhys took a shaky step forward. “I didn’t mean it, Y/N. I swear on the Mother, I didn’t mean it.”

“But you said it,” she whispered, tears finally spilling over. “And that’s the part I can’t forget.”

She brushed past him, leaving him standing alone in the library, her tears the only sound echoing in the empty space.

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The next morning, Y/N was back to her unshakable, distant self. She attended meetings, completed her missions with flawless precision, and maintained an icy professionalism that left no room for personal connection.

But Rhys noticed the way she avoided his gaze, the way her laughter no longer filled the halls, the way she barely touched the bond between them.

She was giving him exactly what he’d drunkenly demanded: distance, detachment, and silence.

And it was killing him.

One evening, Feyre found him sitting alone in the dining room, a glass of wine untouched in his hand.

“She’ll come back to you,” Feyre said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Rhys shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not unless I can prove to her that I’m worth coming back to.”

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It wasn’t until a particularly grueling mission left Y/N injured that the walls finally cracked.

She stumbled into the townhouse late at night, her arm bleeding and her face pale. Rhys was on her in an instant, his heart pounding as he helped her to the couch.

“Why didn’t you call for me?” he demanded, his hands glowing with healing light as he tended to her wounds.

“I didn’t think you’d want to clean up another one of my messes,” she said flatly, her words cutting deeper than any injury.

Rhys froze, his hands trembling. “Y/N, don’t—”

“Don’t what?” she snapped, her exhaustion finally breaking through her calm exterior. “Don’t remind you of the words you threw at me like knives? Don’t make you feel guilty for the way you shattered me?”

Her voice broke on the last word, and Rhys felt his own tears slipping free. “I’ll never forgive myself for hurting you,” he whispered. “But I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it right if you’ll let me.”

Y/N stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she shook her head, her voice soft but firm.

“I need more than words, Rhysand. I need actions. I need time. And I need to believe that you truly see me as your equal, not as someone you have to clean up after.”

He nodded, his heart aching. “You have my word, Y/N. I’ll prove it to you.”

She said nothing more, retreating to her room and leaving Rhys alone once again.

But this time, he felt the faintest flicker of hope.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

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[filmap]

Come True Anthony Scott Burns. 2020

Sleep Study 111 89 Ave NW, Edmonton, AB T6G 2H5, Canada See in map

See in imdb

[hurglewurm]

as a lesbian, it is my duty to make one of those like. lineless character illustrated romcom book covers for these two sillies. it's what we deserve.

[totallyottie99]

New commission sheet!

[mellowmusings]

coffee for your head | part 3

part 2

Azriel x reader A/N- highkey dead rn, wanna kms :) let me know if you wanna be tagged. my dumbass confused it with blessed mistakes first lmao Summary-After loosing his mate Azriel falls into severe depression barely living and eating at all, his entire life had fallen apart and even after a century of grieving he still couldn't pull himself up to the surface, but in his hole of self pity a ladder reaches down to him.

part 3- The healing The nights were still hard. Shadows curled restlessly around Azriel, whispering fragments of his past and pulling him toward the memories he couldn’t escape. He didn’t sleep much, haunted by dreams that left him cold and aching. But lately, there was something—someone—that offered a reprieve from the endless cycle of guilt and grief.

You.

It wasn’t as though you had come into his life and magically made everything better. The ache of losing his mate didn’t vanish overnight, nor did the guilt of allowing himself to feel something new. But your presence was steady, warm, and—most importantly—patient.

That patience was what terrified him the most.

Azriel noticed the little things first. The way you brewed his tea just how he liked it, even though he’d never told you. The way you left space for him at the dinner table but didn’t press when he chose to sit alone. The way you laughed—soft and sincere, as if the world hadn’t left its scars on you the way it had on him.

He didn’t know how to handle it.

The first time you sat beside him in the garden, saying nothing but letting your presence fill the silence, he found himself gripping his hands tightly in his lap. The urge to speak warred with the urge to push you away, to tell you that you deserved someone less broken.

But you didn’t ask him to speak. You just stayed. And something inside him cracked.

The journey wasn’t smooth. Healing rarely was.

There were moments when Azriel felt like he was suffocating, the weight of the past pressing down on his chest. He’d wake in a cold sweat, his shadows coiled tightly around him, and he’d remember her—his mate. Her laughter, her voice, the way she’d looked at him like he was the only thing that mattered in the world.

And then he’d think of you. The way you smiled at him, the way your eyes softened when you looked his way. It was different, softer.

It wasn’t wrong, was it? To find comfort in someone else?

But comfort didn’t always come easily.

One evening, you had invited him to join you for a walk along the Sidra. It wasn’t unusual—walking had become one of the few ways Azriel could clear his mind. But that day, he was restless, his shadows unusually loud, their whispers biting at the edges of his thoughts.

“Come with me,” you said, your tone light, though he could see the concern in your eyes.

“I’m fine,” he replied curtly, his voice sharper than he intended.

You blinked, clearly taken aback, but you didn’t back down. “Azriel, you’ve been sitting in this room all day. A walk might help—”

“I said I’m fine,” he snapped, the words cold and biting.

The silence that followed was unbearable. You stood there, your expression carefully blank, though he could see the hurt flicker across your features before you masked it.

“Alright,” you said quietly, turning to leave.

The door closed softly behind you, and Azriel sank into his chair, his head in his hands. The guilt was immediate, suffocating. He hadn’t meant to lash out, hadn’t meant to hurt you.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? He didn’t know how to let someone in without fear of losing them.

He found you later that night, sitting by the fire in the House of Wind. You didn’t look up when he approached, your focus on the flames, but you didn’t tell him to leave, either.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low.

You turned to him then, your eyes searching his face. “I’m not upset because you snapped at me, Azriel. I’m upset because you keep shutting me out.”

“I don’t mean to,” he admitted, his shadows curling around his shoulders like a shield. “I just—this isn’t easy for me. Letting someone in. Letting myself feel…” He trailed off, the words stuck in his throat.

You softened, your gaze steady. “I know it’s not easy. But I’m not asking you to do this alone. I’m here, Azriel. For as long as you’ll let me be.”

Something about the way you said it, so quietly but with such conviction, unraveled him. He sat beside you, his shoulders brushing yours, and for the first time in a long while, he let himself lean into someone else’s strength.

The fights were never explosive, but they were frequent enough to be a reminder of how much he still had to learn.

There was the time he forgot to meet you for lunch, lost in his own thoughts, and you had spent the afternoon pacing in worry.

“I thought something had happened to you,” you’d said when he finally returned, your voice tight with frustration.

“I didn’t ask you to worry,” he’d replied, defensive.

“No, you didn’t,” you said, your tone sharp. “But I do. Because I care about you, Azriel. And if that’s going to be a problem, maybe I shouldn’t—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, his voice soft but firm. “Don’t say that.”

The tension hung between you like a fragile thread, but eventually, you both stepped back, your anger cooling. He apologized, and so did you, and the rift between you mended just a little.

There were also moments of quiet understanding, of small victories that felt monumental.

The first time he reached for your hand without overthinking it, you’d smiled so brightly he felt like the sun had come out just for him.

The first time he let you into his room, the space he had once considered sacred and untouchable, you had treated it with the reverence it deserved.

The first time he laughed—truly laughed—at something you said, the sound was so foreign to him that it startled both of you.

And through it all, you stayed.

It wasn’t until months later, as you sat together in the same garden where this journey had begun, that Azriel truly let himself acknowledge what he felt for you.

You were reading, your legs tucked beneath you, the late afternoon sun casting a golden glow across your face. His shadows were unusually quiet, as if even they recognized the peace of the moment.

He didn’t realize he was staring until you looked up, your lips quirking in a soft smile. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he said, though his voice betrayed him.

You tilted your head, studying him. “You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Maybe.”

You reached for his hand, your touch grounding him. “You don’t have to say it, Azriel. Not until you’re ready.”

But he was ready.

“I love you,” he said, the words slipping out before he could second-guess them.

Your eyes widened, surprise flickering across your face before it softened into something warm and radiant. “I love you, too.”

And for the first time in over a century, Azriel felt something he hadn’t thought possible.

Hope. Beautiful radiant hope.

@anarchiii @darkbloodsly @sunnyspycat @er1023 @clementine111002 @buubblles @onebadassunicorn @donnadiddadog @ren-ni @lilah-asteria @rcarbo1 @tele86 @sillyfreakfanparty @sopheeg @secretlyhers @isa1b2h3 @inkedinshadows @thesunloveschips

[writinqfever]

night fight 𝜗𝜚

first fic of a little outer banks series i wanna do!!

summary: you go to a party at the boneyard with your sister sarah cameron and her boyfriend, topper. however, a fight breaks out between topper and another pogue. will you stick up for him?

warnings: violence, swearing, a gun used, john b drowning, underage alcohol consumption, injury detail, swearing

(based off of episode 1 with a few tweaks)

𝜗𝜚

the boneyard is packed, full of pogues, tourists, and even kooks. you walk with sarah, who is holding hands with her boyfriend topper, and get a drink from the drinks cooler. you grab a beer, rolling your eyes when topper starts kissing sarah as she giggles. you walk off towards the other end of the beach, mingling with a few friendly pogues and the odd kook.

a few cocktails and beers later, you walk back to where the cooler was, and realise its not there. you take a quick glance around, and realise its to the front of the beach where jj maybank and john b are. your dad had always told you to stay away from jj, telling you countless stories of how much trouble he was. you shrugged, walking towards them and opening the cooler.

“hey hey! you want a beer? lemme get that for ‘ya.” you internally groaned, not wanting to draw attention to yourself, as jj grabbed a beer, handing it to you with a grin.

“thanks.” you pursed your lips, and he turned away from you.

“hey, hey. hey, sarah!” he shouts over to your sister, holding another red cup out to her.

“sarah, can i interest you in a tasty milwaukee beverage?”

“no, thanks.” she declines. your sister wasn’t the type to drink lots, she had discipline.

“cmon, is it not fancy enough for you?”

“no, we were just leaving.” she says, trying to diffuse the situation.

you thought about stepping in, when topper does it for you.

“hey, you know what? i’ll take it. thank you man, i appreciate it.” he says, grinning smugly, and reaching for the cup.

“that’s nice topper, but i didn’t ask you. if you said pretty please maybe.” jj replies unseriously, clearly looking for trouble.

“oh, pretty please.” topper says, his patience beginning to fade, as sarah looks helplessly between them both, grabbing onto toppers arm in an attempt to pull him away.

“yeah, so sarah, you can have it.” jj ignores him, trying to pass the red cup to sarah once more.

“she doesn’t want it you—“ topper lets his frustration take over, tossing the cup carelessly, and resulting in the alcohol splashing across maybank’s face.

jj is quick to grab him, pushing him furiously as john b and sarah try to intervene. john b grabs the frustrated blondie, pleading for him to calm down.

“dirty pogues!” topper shouts from behind him.

something snaps in john b, as he runs to topper, pushing him aggressively as he stumbles backwards, the smug look on his face washed away.

sarah walks over to topper, and you hear pope tell them to be incognito before… crunch. everyone gasps as john b falls onto the sand, clearly injured. you rush forward, concerned , as sarah holds you back, just incase.

topper kicks him into the water, as john b rolls around, soaked. the chants of ‘fight!’ are deafeningly loud.

“hey john b, don’t make me drown you like your old man, alright?” he jeers down at him, kicking him down again.

topper temporarily lets his guard down, focusing on the crowd and egging them on. during this time, John B manages to get up, and jumps on him from the side, knocking him down.

“give it to him!” jj whoops, cheering his bestfriend on. your eyes widen, this wouldn’t end well.

“john b, let it go!”

“stop, you guys!”

topper punches him once, twice, three times, you cant keep up. john b is not backing down, as they fight in the circle that has now formed. suddenly, john b launches topper over his shoulder, into the water.

“come on topper! come on!” he screams, beckoning for him to come forward, only spurring him on.

for a moment, it seems like john b was winning, until a large splash tells you otherwise. john b is face down in the water, as topper holds him down. ultimately drowning him. sarah screams for her boyfriend to stop, but he wont listen.

“this is too far!” you say, mostly to yourself.

in the spur of the moment, you run forward, jumping on topper’s back, trying to get him off, as he tumbles onto his side.

“y/n, what are you doing?!” your sister shrieks, worried for your safety.

“topper, quit it!” you shout, only to be pushed back, landing on your ass.

toppers anger is shocking to you, as he comes forward, pushing you again while you’re already down. john b is up again, and he knocks topper down for a second time, but the vicious blonde haired boy manages to push him down, as john b unluckily falls onto his side, drowning him again. you feel someone drag you back onto shore, a friend of yours.

sarah kneels down by you.

“are you okay? why would you do that?!”

you dont pay attention to her, as you watch the scene unfolding infront of you helplessly. john b is drowning. you watch jj pull something from his bag, and run up behind topper. your heart skips a beat and your stomach begins to churn as you realise he has pulled out a gun.

he presses the cold metal to the back of toppers neck, as rhe gun’s safety clicks. he gasps, and immediately lets go of john b, who lays, almost lifeless on the sand, gasping for air.

it’s chaos, people are running, your sister tells you to get up and go, but you don’t. you stay, standing up. people push past you roughly, sprinting away from the scene.

“yeah, you know what that is.” jj says, a maniac-like smile on his face.

“he’s got a gun! jj!!” sarah screams desperately, panicking.

“stop it!! put the gun down!” you screech, your throat becoming hoarse.

“did you say somethin’ princess?” he asks rhetorically, looking straight at you, getting under your skin.

“put the gun down!” sarah repeats your sentence. holding her hand out.

“we’re good, we’re good.” topper says, holding his hands up in fear.

“kie, can you check your pyscho friend please?!”

“okay everyone listen up! get the hell off our side of the island!”

the deafening sound of gunshots fill your ears as bullets fly high up into the sky.

“holy shit!” you scream, as your older sister grabs your hand, pulling you away urgently.

the three of you run from the beach, as you urge your legs to go faster, the adrenaline pumping through your body. tears prick at your eyes from the speed you’re running, as you pant, flying away from there. once you get back to the parking lot, you hang back, watching sarah check if a shaken-up topper is okay.

you can’t help but feel frustrated at her. topper had shoved you, you were soaking wet. why hadn’t she defended you like any other day? you shrugged it off, giving her the benefit of the doubt, as you got into the back of topper’s truck.

what just happened?

𝜗𝜚

a/n: i will be putting more jj x reader content in the next fic, this is a slowburn fic so it might take a little bit longer. <3

[yvain]

The Handmaiden (2016) dir. Park Chan-wook, based on the novel Fingersmith by Sarah Waters • The Queer Uncanny: New Perspectives on the Gothic by Paulina Palmer • The Rose Bower (1890) from the Legend of Briar Rose series by Edward Burne-Jones

[small-z24]

One-Shot: Shadows of Destiny

Summary:

Amidst the turmoil of a heated argument, an explosion forces Y/N to protect Azriel, resulting in both of them being injured. As Y/N tends to Azriel's unconscious form, the mating bond snaps into place, revealing their deep connection. When Azriel awakens, he must confront his feelings and the bond that has been hidden for years. Together, they face their newfound reality, united by a love that can withstand any challenge.

Word Count: 1118

Warnings: This story includes scenes of violence and injury, emotional distress, and themes of fear and guilt. There are mentions of medical procedures and some explicit language. If any of these topics are triggering for you, please read with caution.

The training room echoed with the clash of steel and the heavy breathing of the two combatants. Azriel and Y/N had been sparring for hours, their frustration and emotions fueling every strike and parry. The tension between them had been building for weeks, and tonight it had finally reached its breaking point.

"You're holding back!" Y/N shouted, her voice trembling with anger as she swung her blade at Azriel.

He deflected the blow with ease, his expression hard. "I'm not going to hurt you, Y/N."

"I don't need your protection, Azriel!" she snapped, stepping back to catch her breath. "I need you to treat me like an equal."

Azriel's jaw tightened as he lowered his sword. "You are my equal, but that doesn't mean I want to see you hurt."

Y/N’s eyes flashed with fury. "You don’t get it, do you? You never do! I’m not some fragile thing that needs to be coddled. I’m a warrior, just like you!"

Azriel’s shadows swirled around him, mirroring his agitation. "I know you’re strong, Y/N. But I can’t just turn off my feelings for you. I care about you too much."

"Care?" Y/N scoffed, tears of frustration welling in her eyes. "You think this is about care? It’s about respect. If you can’t respect me as a warrior, then what’s the point?"

Azriel took a step closer, his eyes burning with intensity. "I respect you more than anyone else. But watching you get hurt... it tears me apart."

Y/N’s breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest. "Why? Why does it matter so much to you?"

Before Azriel could respond, a sudden explosion rocked the training room. The walls shook, and debris rained down around them. Y/N’s eyes widened in horror as she saw a large piece of the ceiling break free, heading straight for Azriel.

Without thinking, she lunged forward, pushing him out of the way. The debris struck her instead, knocking her to the ground. Azriel scrambled to her side, his shadows wrapping around them both protectively.

"Y/N!" he cried, his voice filled with panic.

She groaned, pain shooting through her body. "I'm fine," she managed to say, her voice weak. "Just... get us out of here."

Azriel scooped her up in his arms, his heart pounding with fear and guilt. He carried her out of the training room, his shadows helping to clear a path through the rubble. Once they were safe, he laid her down gently, his hands trembling.

"Stay with me, Y/N," he whispered, his voice breaking.

She nodded weakly, her vision blurring. "Azriel..."

As she lost consciousness, Azriel’s heart shattered. He had failed to protect her, failed to keep her safe. The guilt and fear consumed him as he held her close, his shadows wrapping around them both in a protective cocoon.

Y/N awoke in the healing quarters of the House of Wind, her body aching but her mind sharp. She tried to sit up, but a gentle hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"Easy," Majda, the healer, said softly. "You’ve been through a lot."

"Azriel," Y/N gasped, her heart racing. "Where is he?"

Majda’s expression turned somber. "He’s alive, but he’s in bad shape. He shielded you from the worst of the explosion. He hasn’t woken up yet."

Y/N’s heart clenched with fear and guilt. She had pushed him out of the way, but he had still been injured protecting her. "I need to see him."

Majda nodded, helping her to her feet. "He’s in the next room. But you need to rest too, Y/N. You’re still recovering."

Y/N nodded, but her focus was on Azriel. She moved to the next room, her heart breaking at the sight of him lying unconscious, his body covered in bandages. She approached his bedside, tears streaming down her face.

"I’m so sorry, Azriel," she whispered, taking his hand in hers. "I should have been more careful."

As she touched him, a sudden warmth spread through her, and she gasped as the mating bond snapped into place. It was an overwhelming sensation, a connection that went beyond anything she had ever felt. She knew, in that moment, that Azriel was her mate.

"Azriel," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Please wake up. I need you."

Days passed, and Y/N stayed by Azriel’s side, her heart aching with the knowledge of their bond. She spoke to him, telling him stories and sharing her feelings, hoping that her voice would reach him.

Finally, one evening, Azriel stirred. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked around, disoriented. When his gaze landed on Y/N, a wave of relief washed over him.

"Y/N," he croaked, his voice weak.

She leaned forward, tears of joy streaming down her face. "I’m here, Azriel. I’m right here."

He reached out, his hand trembling as he cupped her cheek. "I thought I lost you."

She shook her head, her heart overflowing with love. "You saved me. You always save me."

Azriel took a deep breath, his eyes filled with emotion. "Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you."

She nodded, her heart pounding. "I know. I felt it too."

His eyes widened in surprise. "You did?"

She smiled, her tears falling freely. "Yes. The bond... it snapped into place when I touched you. I know you’re my mate, Azriel."

Relief and joy filled his eyes as he pulled her into a gentle embrace. "I’ve known for a while," he admitted, his voice trembling. "But I was afraid. Afraid of what it would mean for us."

She held him close, her heart bursting with love. "We’re in this together, Azriel. Always."

Their lips met in a desperate, passionate kiss, the weight of their words and the bond between them igniting a fire that had been smoldering for too long. They poured all their frustration, love, and longing into that kiss, finally allowing themselves to embrace the bond that had been waiting for them.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads remained pressed together, their breaths mingling. Azriel’s shadows wrapped around them both, a protective cocoon that shielded them from the world.

"I love you, Y/N," Azriel whispered, his voice filled with reverence.

"I love you too, Azriel," she replied, her heart full and whole.

In that moment, they knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, united by the bond that had finally snapped into place. Their love, forged in the heat of argument and tempered by their shared strength, was unbreakable. And as they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, they knew they had found their true home in each other.

[be-an-echo]

Happy bday Joel!

[fern-parallels]

[batboysanonymous]

Language of Love

Azriel x Reader

Summary: After a rough day, all Y/N wants is to disappear into her favorite chair and forget the world. But Azriel knows her better than anyone and he reminds her that sometimes love is in the little things.

Word Count: 1k

───────────────────────────────

The door creaked open softly, though its sound was unnecessary. Azriel always entered her space like a whisper, his shadows moving before him as if to announce his arrival. Tonight, Y/N sat curled up in her armchair by the hearth, legs tucked under her and a blanket draped around her shoulders. Her face was turned toward the fire, the flickering light illuminating her profile, but her gaze was distant, unfocused.

Azriel hesitated in the doorway, his heart aching at the sight. He didn’t need his shadows to tell him she’d had a rough day. The stiffness in her posture, the faint droop of her shoulders, the way she barely reacted to his presence—it all spoke volumes.

He stepped inside, letting the door click shut behind him. The noise drew her attention, her head tilting just enough to meet his gaze. Her smile was small and tired, but it was there, a flicker of warmth that he didn’t take for granted.

“You didn’t have to come,” she murmured, her voice soft and tinged with exhaustion.

Azriel crossed the room, crouching in front of her. His golden-brown eyes scanned her face, noting the faint crease between her brows and the way her fingers clutched the edge of the blanket. “Of course, I did,” he said simply, as if there were no other option.

She shook her head lightly, but he caught the way her lips quirked in gratitude. Azriel leaned forward, his shadows curling around her wrist in a gentle caress before retreating. “Stay here,” he said, his voice low but firm. “I’ll be right back.”

She raised a brow but didn’t argue, sinking deeper into the chair as he disappeared into the hallway.

Azriel moved with purpose, his shadows darting ahead to gather the things he needed. He’d been paying attention to her for months now, cataloging the little things that brought her joy, the small comforts she reached for on days like this. He couldn’t always make her problems disappear, no matter how much he wanted to. But he could do this.

Minutes later, he returned, balancing a tray in his hands. Her brows lifted in surprise as he set it down on the small table beside her chair.

“What is all this?” she asked, her voice laced with curiosity.

Azriel didn’t answer right away. Instead, he picked up the steaming mug of tea from the tray and handed it to her. Her fingers brushed his as she took it, and that fleeting touch sent a spark down the bond, warming his chest. “Chamomile and lavender,” he said, gesturing to the tea. “It helps you relax. I noticed you always drink it before bed when you’re stressed.”

Her eyes softened, and she opened her mouth to say something, but he wasn’t done. He reached for the small plate of biscuits next, holding it out to her. “These are the lemon ones you like. I had the kitchen make them fresh.”

She blinked, her gaze shifting between the plate and his face. “Az…”

“And,” he continued, setting the biscuits down within her reach, “I brought this.” He picked up a small book from the tray, its worn cover familiar. “It’s the poetry collection you always read when you’re upset.”

Her fingers tightened around the mug as she stared at him, her lips parted in astonishment. “You… you noticed all of that?”

Azriel tilted his head, his shadows swirling lazily around his shoulders. “Of course, I noticed. You’re my mate.”

The way he said it, so matter-of-fact and unwavering, made her chest ache. He was always like this—steady, unwavering, as if the world could crumble around him and he would still find a way to hold her together.

She set the tea down carefully, then reached out to touch his hand. “Thank you,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”

“It wasn’t trouble,” he replied, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “I wanted to.”

He rose to his full height then, towering over her but never making her feel small. “Move over,” he said, gesturing to the armchair.

She frowned in confusion. “What?”

“Move over,” he repeated, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Unless you don’t want to share.”

Her laugh was soft but genuine as she scooted to one side, making room for him. Azriel slid into the chair beside her, his broad frame dwarfing the seat but fitting against her perfectly. She leaned into him instinctively, her head resting against his shoulder.

His arm came around her, pulling her close. “Better?” he asked, his voice rumbling through his chest.

“Much,” she whispered, letting her eyes close as his warmth enveloped her.

They sat in silence for a while, the crackling fire and the faint rustle of his shadows filling the space. Azriel reached for the book, flipping it open to a dog-eared page. He began to read aloud, his deep voice wrapping around the words and making them come alive.

Y/N sighed contentedly, the tension in her body melting away with every passing moment. She didn’t know how he did it—how he always seemed to know exactly what she needed, even when she didn’t. But she supposed that was just Azriel. Her mate. Her home.

As the night wore on, her eyes grew heavier, lulled by his voice and the steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek. Before she drifted off completely, she murmured, “I love you.”

Azriel’s hand stilled on the page, his breath catching for the briefest second. Then he pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, his voice tender as he replied, “I love you too.”

And in that moment, with the fire crackling beside them and the bond humming warmly between their souls, everything felt right.

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Want to join my tag list? Drop a comment or check out this link to submit a specific series you would like tagged in! (Or if you just don't want to comment, that's okay too)

[corporalkiheart]

I just finished Long Live Evil and want the Emperor in a way that is frankly concerning. Sarah Rees Brennan knows her villain fuckers and what we want, because she is definitely one of us.

[mirrorballpages]

Wonderstruck

Read On AO3

From the moment Azriel and Elain first meet in the human lands, their connection is undeniable—a quiet spark neither can fully understand nor ignore. A series of stolen moments and fleeting encounters, tender gestures, unspoken longings, and the growing pull that draws them closer despite the worlds that should keep them apart. Buckle up, friends: It's a sloooooow burn.

Watch Wisteria Grow

Read On AO3

I want auroras and sad prose I want to watch wisteria grow right over my bare feet 'Cause I haven't moved in years And I want you right here A red rose grew up out of ice-frozen ground With no one around to tweet it While I bathe in cliffside pools With my calamitous love and insurmountable grief

A Court of Wings and Ruin is told through the intertwined perspectives of Elain and Azriel. A story of grief and growth, of love that blooms slowly, like wisteria winding its way toward the light.

Comment & tell me what you think! This is my first time ever writing fiction, let alone fan fiction. I was admittedly very nervous to get these things out in the world. So, your comments mean the world to me!