#the shadow is but a small and passing thing

[crushpunky]

drew and costar!reader’s inside joke

masterlist

the smiley face story from how drew and costar!reader met

It started at a table read when y/n grabbed a pen and drew a small smiley face in the corner of Drew’s script. His eyes caught it, grinning to himself before taking his pen and doing the same to y/n’s script. From then on, the little smiley face was their way of communicating, letting the other know they were thinking of them without even speaking a word.

From coffees and dressing room mirrors to sticky notes and cakes, their smiley faces appeared just about anywhere. Anytime the two of them were together (and even, miraculously, when they weren’t), a smiley face was bound to appear. So, it was only natural for them to commemorate their favorite doodle eternally in the form of ink on skin.

The two of them were sprawled out on the couch on y/n’s apartment balcony, passing a joint back and forth as they chatted. Below them, the sights and sounds of downtown LA brought a soothing atmosphere that served as white noise to their conversation.

“You ever thought about getting a tattoo?” Y/n asked, taking a hit before slowly blowing out the smoke. Her legs were draped in Drew’s lap, his much longer ones propped up on the coffee table as he let out a small chuckle.

“Maybe in college, but not seriously.” Drew said, taking the joint from y/n. His lips wrapped around it, dragging slowly before exhaling and dabbing it out. The lights from the bustling city below cast shadows onto his face that highlighted his sharpened features.

“Hmm.” Y/n simply hummed, tapping her foot in Drew’s lap. He quirked an eyebrow, his gaze shifting over to look at her.

“What’re you thinking about?” Drew asked, his hand fiddling with the hem of her jeans.

“We should get tattoos.” Y/n said simply, straightening up to better look at Drew. He had a smirk on his face, his cheeks flushed from the heat and the joint they’d just smoked.

“Oh yeah, what?” Drew asked playfully, stretching his arms out before resting them behind his head. The sleeves of his t-shirt dipped slightly, exposing the flex of his biceps as he sunk into the couch.

“The smiley, duh.” Y/n giggled, hitting Drew lightly with her foot. Drew chewed on his lip, mulling over it for a moment.

“Sure, why not.” Drew said with a shrug. Y/n sat up even further, an excited grin on her face. Her hands out quickly, cupping the sides of Drew’s face and playfully shaking it side to side with a squeal. Drew tried to keep a straight face but quickly failed, pushing y/n away with a giggle.

“We’re going first thing in the morning and you’re not wimping out Starkey, a’ight?” Y/n quirked her brow before offering her pinky out. With a dramatic sigh and roll of his eyes, Drew hooked his pinky with hers.

Early the next morning (or at least as early as two hungover people could get up), the two of them wandered to the nearby tattoo shop. As soon as they stopped, Drew ran around and opened his door for her. Y/n stepped out with an exaggerated curtsy before they made their way into the shop. After some short introductions with the girl sitting at the front desk, they found themselves sitting in the back.

“Do you want me to go first?” Drew elbowed y/n playfully. Most of the spontaneity and bravery y/n had felt the night before had evaporated, leaving her a nervous mess as she sat in the chair watching the artist prepare.

“Yeah, you should go first.” Y/n said, swallowing harshly as Drew stood. He sat down in the tattoo chair, relaxing into it with a sigh. Y/n watched as Drew propped his arm up, the artist beginning the process on the spot just behind his elbow. Drew’s face screwed up in pain for a moment before slipping into a smile with a giggle, causing y/n to roll her eyes at his playfulness.

“Alright, your turn, ma’m.” Drew said as the artist finished up. He stood from the seat, flexing his arm, before y/n replaced him in front of the artist. Y/n tried her best to relax into the seat, propping her arm up as she felt her heart pounding in her chest. As the artist swiped her arm with alcohol, y/n let out a small yelp.

“You’re alright, you’re alright.” Drew chuckled lightly, scooting his chair closer and offering her his hand. Hoping to at least put on an air of toughness, y/n shook her head, but Drew’s hand remained open to her. The whir of the tattoo gun filled the air, causing y/n to let in a harsh breath before she felt the sharp prickle on her skin. Y/n’s hand quickly shot out, grabbing onto Drew’s hand and squeezing her eyes shut.

As time ticked on, y/n felt herself relaxing under Drew’s gentle touch and encouraging words. Once the artist finished, she slowly opened her eyes.

“You did it.” Drew grinned, squeezing y/n’s hand lightly before helping her out of the chair. Once she made it to her feet, however, she felt her head spin and knees turn to jelly before blackness clouded her vision.

“Y/n, y/nnnnnnn.” Y/n heard as her eyes blinked open, the harsh light causing her to flinch. As her vision cleared, she could see Drew hovering over her, his eyes filled with worry as they frantically searched her face.

“Drew…” y/n groaned, moving to sit up.

“Wait, wait, let me help you.” Drew said, his arms wrapping around her and helping her to sit up on the floor. Y/n ran a hand down her face, giggling a little bit as she looked around her.

“Oh my god that was so embarrassing.” Y/n said, a small grin coming to Drew’s lips, his expression still clouded with worry. Drew handed her a water bottle, to which she took a small sip.

“Come on, drink. Don’t need you passing out on me again.” Drew said, pushing the water bottle towards her again. Y/n continued drinking before handing it back to him. With Drew’s help, y/n rose to her feet. Still wobbly, she leaned harshly into Drew’s chest as his arms quickly wrapped around her. She tried to break from his grasp, attempting to take a step on her own, but Drew’s grip remained firm on her.

“Drew, I’m fine—” y/n said, but Drew had already swept his arm under her knees, sweeping her feet up to hold her bridal style. Y/n let out a small yelp, groaning as a grin spread across Drew’s lips.

“Don’t want you wobbling around like a drunken person.” Drew mumbled as he carried her out the door. Y/n rolled her eyes, eventually succumbing to Drew’s antics as they made it out to the streets of LA, hoping no paparazzi would catch them in their flushed and giggly state.

[httpvomitello]

Cold Heart *⁠.⁠✧ (part 2)

cregan stark x targ!reader

WARNING: angst, not a happy ending (?)

(part 1) (part 3)

The days following your outburst in the Great Hall passed in a haze. You avoided Cregan as much as possible, and he seemed content to let the silence stretch between you. The icy walls of Winterfell felt more like a prison than ever before.

Rickon, sensing the tension but not understanding its source, clung to you with a desperation that only deepened your heartbreak. He asked you once, in his small, hesitant voice, if you were angry with his father.

“No, sweetling,” you whispered, stroking his dark hair. “I’m just… tired.”

It wasn’t a lie. Exhaustion weighed heavily on you—not from the duties of being Lady of Winterfell, but from the constant ache of loving a man who would never love you back.

One evening, unable to bear the silence any longer, you sat at your writing desk and penned a letter to your mother.

Mother,

I have done all that was asked of me. I have been patient. I have been kind. But I cannot thaw the North, and I cannot make a man love me who does not wish to. My heart feels as if it has been crushed beneath the weight of a thousand winters. I wonder if this alliance was worth the cost.

You stared at the words for a long time, your quill hovering above the parchment.

Do you even know what you have done to me?

Your hand trembled as you added the final line. You folded the letter carefully, but you could not bring yourself to summon the raven. What good would it do? Rhaenyra would only remind you of your duty, of the importance of the alliance, of the greater good.

The letter remained tucked away in the desk, a secret burden you carried alone.

The tension between you and Cregan finally came to a head late one night. The storm outside was fierce, the winds howling like wolves at the gates. You had been restless, pacing your chambers, when the door opened, and Cregan stepped inside.

He looked as tired as you felt, his shoulders heavy with some unseen weight. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, regarding you with an expression you couldn’t quite read.

“What do you want, Cregan?” you asked, your voice sharper than intended.

“I came to speak,” he said, his tone measured.

“You’ve had months to speak,” you replied, turning away from him. “And yet you’ve said nothing.”

“I didn’t know what to say.”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? You never know what to say. You never know how to feel. You don’t even know how to look at me without seeing her shadow.”

His jaw tightened, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of anger in his eyes.

“Do not speak of things you don’t understand,” he said, his voice low and warning.

“Don’t I?” you shot back, turning to face him fully. “I understand better than you think. I understand what it means to love someone so deeply it consumes you. But you—” Your voice broke, and you forced yourself to continue. “You’ve never given me the chance to show you what we could be. You won’t even try.”

Cregan took a step forward, his expression stormy. “And what would you have me do? Forget her? Pretend she never existed?”

“I would have you see me!” you cried, tears streaming down your face. “I am not her, Cregan, and I never will be. But I am here. I have been here, trying, every single day, and you—”

Your voice faltered as he closed the distance between you. For a moment, you thought he might reach for you, might finally break through the walls he had built.

But he didn’t.

“I can’t,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t give you what you want.”

The finality in his words shattered something inside you. You stepped back, your breath hitching as you tried to compose yourself.

“Then why did you marry me?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“Because I had to,” he admitted, his eyes meeting yours with a raw honesty that hurt more than any lie could have. “Because the North needed it. Because Rickon needed it. But I never wanted this, and I never wanted to hurt you.”

You stared at him, your heart breaking all over again. “But you have,” you said quietly. “You’ve hurt me more than you’ll ever know.”

Without another word, he turned and left, the door closing behind him with a finality that echoed in the silence of your chambers.

The days that followed were colder than ever, though the snow had stopped falling. You threw yourself into your duties, avoiding Cregan whenever possible. Rickon became your solace, his innocent laughter the only thing that kept you from succumbing to the despair that threatened to consume you.

But even he could not erase the emptiness in your heart.

Late one night, unable to sleep, you found yourself standing before the godswood. The heart tree loomed above you, its ancient branches creaking in the wind. You knelt before it, tears streaming down your face as you whispered a prayer to gods you didn’t fully believe in.

“Give me the strength to bear this,” you pleaded. “Or give me the freedom to leave.”

The gods, as always, were silent.

[sleepn0tfound]

That's MY Daughter

DC x Fem!Neglected!Batsis! Reader x Marvel [Just some midnight thoughts]

Bruce and Tim realised something odd about Stark Industries. Ever since a few months ago the technology being produced there had improved by an unbelievable amount. It was futuristic, nothing that this world has seen before. And the weirdest part of it is the fact that Tony Stark had offered to partner up with Wayne Enterprises. THE Tony Stark, Iron Man, the most egotisical man they knew had willingly offered to partner up with them? After years of being petty with Bruce and the JL?

Tim had been made to prepare to become the new CEO soon, thus he recently started taking up more work at Wayne Enterprises when the agreement was made. Though instead of Tony being the one to talk about ideas it was an unknown woman communicating with him about the ideas, the product, the marketing, etc. And the merge of the two companies was an absolute success, the marketing especially drawing in young adults. (courtesy of Tim and the mysterious women who seems to be around the same age as him)

Who was the mysterious women though? Well both Bruce and Tim could only come to one solution. The least known character to Bruce, to Batman, which says a lot considering the fact that he had made a contingency plan for every Avenger, every hero, including his own teammates, including himself, yet this one character was completely unknown, zero plans if she were to go rogue. And that drove Bruce crazy. Her file was blank. Every vital information was marked with the word 'unknown'. It had been making Bruce paranoid for years since she had appeared next to the Avengers.

The reassurance from the Avengers never helped. It was as if something was gnawing at him. After all how could he trust them anyways? (careful Bruce your trust issues are showing)

One of the only things they knew about her is that she is the main hacker/coder for the Avengers, hence the reason why the Avengers digital security was admittedly better than the Justice League's and how much faster they got, what should be, classified information. (no matter how much Bruce wants to deny it)

And her codename, Special Agent Reaper. No she wasn't originally an Avenger, she was crowned the most skilled assassin of this era, working under S.H.I.E.L.D and one of the sole reasons why all of the HYDRA agents that have sneaked into S.H.I.E.L.D have been successfully taken out, her name would pass by in the wind every so often, they might be rumours or the truth but no one truly knows. Hell even Ra's Al Ghul, The Demon’s Head, had acknowledged her once. Even Talia had admitted that Damian's fighting technique was made to mirror The Reaper's, the only difference is he used katanas while the Reaper, fittingly, uses a scythe.

But one thing was for sure. If you saw the shadow of a hooded figure you better run, though at that point it might be too late.

As the saying goes, "Beware of the Grim Reaper. Wherever it goes death follows closely behind.”

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

“Ah! Brucie! Here you are!” Tony said, wine in hand as he approached Bruce at the gala. Well that was a first. He usually never played into the Brucie persona. Well nonetheless the show must go on.

“Tony!” Bruce threw himself at the other billionaire, acting as if he was drunk, ignoring the way Tony’s expression turned into a grimace for a split second.

As usual, they were both around other pretentious socialites who never seemed to run out of questions.

“Ah! Tony, I heard Stark Industries have been bringing in more money than ever.”

“Oh yes! It’s all because of this prodigy i had found. She actually was the reason why Stark Industries and Wayne Enterprises had a collab. I might even give the company to her when I retire!" He let out a laugh that seems to emanate the word 'rich', a small smirk stayed on his lips as he heard the guests at the gala begin to whisper.

"Oh? Is that so? Then I would love to meet the person I have been working with this entire time." Tim Drake-Wayne said as he finally came out of the corner where he would usually stay in to observe rather than interact.

"Be my guest." A subtle challenge, as if Tony was daring him to go through with it as they locked eyes. A smirk on one face while a well practiced smile on the other.

Bruce let out a light hearted laugh as he tightened his grip around Tony, a subtle warning to stay away from his son, "Well then I wouldn't mind arranging a meeting! I'm sure you wouldn't mind the others joining." His tone had a slight change that even the most observant wouldn't realise.

Bruce could barely keep up the 'Brucie' act with Tony bragging about how Stark Enterprises profits have shot up with him finding a 'prodigy' and someone who will take over the company once he retires.

"Not at all. The more the merrier. I assume you wouldn't mind me inviting more people as well." Tony sipped his wine, he wasn't one to back out from a challenge, especially when he is so confident.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

This certainly wasn't how the Justice League and the Avengers expected their next meeting to happen. A petty fight between the two men that singlehandedly funds their respective teams causing all of them to be in one room together.

"Well then, Stark. Where is this prodigy that you speak so highly of?" Bruce said as he sported his famous batglare.

"I assure you she is on her way. She should just be right about done with her mission." Tony replied with the same tone, shooting a glare as well.

Meanwhile the two teams were watching this as if it was the most entertaining show they have seen.

.

.

.

"Hey I'm here." Y/n entered the hall, still wearing her assassin suit, though her signature black hood was down, revealing her face.

Silence seemed to engulf the room.

"Kid... Your hood."

"...Fuck."

hi! i might have disappeared for a month :D To those who are waiting for more parts of DC x Super/Kent!Reader it will come... eventually. I'm having the biggest writer's block for that specific AU so uhm yeah! I wasn't really planning on making that AU a series since it was mostly just me being bored and writing for the lols but since it received so much attention [thank you guys so much!] I have to do it now. i was doing some worldbuilding and already know how I want the reader to be and allat but I cant really think of how to shape the story ukukuk. so yeah stay tuned for that! also this thing was also just a blurb. Might make somewhat of continuation parts if I feel like it. [Also the neglected!batsis! fanfics I've been reading is getting to me. i have a feral urge to create a diff AU series for that] Also would you guys be interested in me creating a twitter/insta account or like a tele channel to post random things

[theartofwoompwoomp]

Hello? Would it be OK for a (female) human child who basically adopted Shadow as her’s(parent)

You know this is a very interesting idea. Mainly because it implies that the human could have chosen anyone as their parental guardian, yet they choose Shadow known for being the edgelord lol

Me????

shadow x humanchild!reader (platonic)

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Now when the whole sonic crew had asked who you wanted to stay with for the night no one was expecting you to choose Shadow.

heck, not even Shadow could believe it. Not that he let it show on his face, but he knew kids didn’t really like him. Most of them got scared and avoided him or would start crying.

but you,… you were practically glowing and cheering in excitement when he agreed.

he just couldn’t say no to you.

he knew children could be impulsive with their decisions, but you where dead set on staying with him. And no one opposed, some because they knew he’s lived with humans before, others because that’s what you wanted.

Regardless you were very happy to be with him.

As he was leading you towards his bike he hadn’t realized you didn’t have the gear to join him in the first place. 

And not wanting to risk you falling off, he decided to just teleport the both of you.

As he went to pick you up, you latched yourself tight small giggles escaping you, “ha, I caught you.”

Your childishness bringing a small smile on his face. “Hmm, so it seems.” Your own giggles intensifying at his reaction. You didn’t know why, but he made you feel safe.

Following his instructions to close your eyes, feeling as skin got cold, you gripped a bit tighter as everything got lighter.

Once you felt gravity again your head felt a little drowsy.

His hand hovering over your forehead helping it stay in place. You had passed out. The teleportation taking a toll on your small body. He wasn’t sure how to care for you exactly, but he knew a good start was food.

After setting you down on the couch he headed towards the kitchen. Opening an old recipe book Vanilla gave him. Scanning the pages he choose one that you might like. 

A smell hit your nose, whatever it was it smelled delicious. The scent feeling familiar as your eyes fluttered open. 

You were in a living room, no one was there but you could hear someone in the next room.

As you crept closer the scent got stronger. Hunger was also making itself evident the longer you sniffed the air.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

Jolting in place, you twist your head and see him. He had some cooking utensil in his hand. “I made some food, do you want some?”

He was gentle with his words, making sure to be patient for your response. 

At first he was worried when he saw you walking around. You were calm but so tense, almost as if you were afraid. But as he waited, he saw your worries slip from your face as smile stretched and your eyes twinkle.

You were practically jumping off your tiny feet when he mentioned food. Having everything set you both sat down to eat. 

At some point you did ask why he eats the smelly beans without cooking them, and he simply responded he’s always eaten them like that. 

when he got up to pick everything up, you shoved a handful of those smelly beans before he could stop you. “Wait— those aren’t for kids,” it was too late. you had eaten some of it, and spit out the rest.

Your face red as you gagged trying to get rid of the taste made him chuckle. He had forgotten how impulsive children could be. 

The next few hours went flying. Y’all had tried some games you knew: tag, hide-in-seek, and princess and dragons. He was the princess lol. All in all, he enjoyed the pure joy you brought in the little things.

Usually anger and a strange emptiness was the primary emotions he always felt. Which is why he’s surprised at the peace your presence brings him. It makes him want to be silly just to see your smile and giggles. 

You were definitely growing on him.

As he made sure you were tuck in bed your voice whispered through the air, “Shadow, thank you for choosing me.” 

…Choosing you?

If anything you had chosen him. Your eyes were already closing but he didn’t want to leave it at that. 

“Kid, Im the one that should be thanking you.”

And with that your soft breaths filled the room. He may have only met you recently, but in that short time you managed to give him a purpose.

You needed him, and he needs you. 

He’s not a perfect guardian, but maybe, just maybe, he can learn for you.

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Masterlist 

This took awhile to make but thank you soo much for the request ! 

[beetlejuicyy]

The Sound of Silence

childhood friends! vi x reader

wc: 2.6k

tags: angst, hurt/no comfort, childhood friends, implied caitvi, vi is lowkey manipulative

synopsis: fate brings you and your childhood friend vi together again. while she's struggling with her own demons and her unstable relationship with caitlyn kiramman, you realize you had fallen in love with her. you're vi's safe place, but she is not yours.

note: for clarity, the text in "italic" represents past conversations

main masterlist

Vi was scared of being alone.

Considering all the events that had led to her knocking on your door, bloodshot tired eyes with no tears left to cry looking at you weakly, teeth chewing the inside of her cheek almost too hard, you had the realization that the woman at your doorstep had always been alone all this time. You let her in, despite having sworn you would never chase her again. You let her in. How could you not, when the pain she had caused you was incomparable to the way your heart shattered seeing her like this, fingernails digging into her skin, still sobbing and unable to keep her posture straight. She muttered weakly something resembling the word 'thanks' and made her way inside your small apartment.

You remained by the door for a few moments, looking at the back of the woman who always stepped proudly.

Vi was scared of being alone. Of course she was, after losing the people she loved, one by one. You had left the undercity when things were still going smoothly. It was an incredible opportunity, to be able to study in Piltover. You visited as often as you could, until Vander's death changed everything. You heard rumours of Powder working for Silco a couple of years later. And you found Vi in a wet, dark and cold cell almost six years later.

You had graduated and already secured a decent job. Through some colleagues who had friends and connections, you happened to find out about a girl with hot pink hair and an attitude that had been her days in prison for several years already. The description resembled the Vi you remembered quite a lot and when your heart skipped a beat at the possibility of finding her again you knew you had to check. Next thing you knew, half your savings were already in an officer's pocket as bribe.

"Vi?" You remembered it like it was yesterday, how your voice broke as it echoed against the stone walls deep underground. The officer stepped aside after announcing your visit to the inmate, allowing you to look inside the dark cell through the iron bars.

She called out your name in response as she appeared out of the shadows, only after hearing your voice, the familiar tone of her name spoken so softly in such a long time leaving her confused. She had grown into a woman, just like you had, and you both stared at each other in silence for a few moments, in disbelief.

You tried your best to help her. You visited as often as you were allowed, sent her goods as much as you were allowed and even reached out to a former classmate who was now a lawyer to get her out of jail. It was a complicated and lenghty process, but you were determined to have your friend back. In the meantime, you continued visiting her despite the  unsettling feeling the prison gave you, telling her all about your new life and reminiscing your childhood together.

This lasted no more than a few months, until you discovered that Vi had been released without notice. And as grateful as you were to find out she was safe and sound, out of that smelly, forsaken cell, things were only getting worse.

Caitlyn Kiramman had her wrapped around her finger. Whenever they would fight, you would find Vi in the darkest, deepest pit, drunk and passed out, beaten up, destroyed. You dragged her out every time. When she found out about Jinx, you held her in your arms and wiped her tears away. Whenever she and Cait reached a disagreement, you were there to listen, rub her back and make sure she fell asleep in a warm bed.

All of this despite the growing realization that you didn't care about Vi simply as a friend. She was ripping a piece of you whenever she was going back to her old ways. No matter how badly they fought, how big their differences, as soon as Vi would bump into Cait she would fold immediately. From annoyed you turned upset until you finally ended up heartbroken.

Vi was scared of being alone. Considering that, you would expect her to care for and respect the people she had left, not take them for granted like she was doing to you.

"I made some tea." You said. It wasn't an offer. Often times you felt like a parent taking care of a sick child, forcing her to take the medicine that had a bad taste. But this time, Vi was awkwardly standing in the middle of your living room, as if she had never stepped foot into your home before. "Sit down."

She obliged, almost mechanically. As you disappeared to the kitchen for a brief moment, Vi's glassy eyes looked around the dimly lit room. It was almost noon, but a storm was approaching and the clouds barely allowed any light from the sun to pass through.

"I'm done, Violet!" You yelled at her back then, she could almost see you right in front of the book shelf, where a tall lamp with warm light was throwing shadows on the walls. "I'm sorry I couldn't take you out of prison on a whim. Or help you with your sister. Or have the influence to fix all your problems."

The sound of cups and plates made her snap back to reality. You walked in with the promised steaming cup of tea and some biscuits. Vi's eyes avoided yours.

"But you can't treat me like a cloth you use to wipe the floor when it gets dirty."

You sat on the chair on the right side of the couch she was sitting on, obviously keeping the distance. The silence was painful.

"This is the last time I pick you up from whatever hell hole you throw yourself into."

Vi understood that very well. And yet, when you didn't come looking for her when she isolated herself from everything and everyone she knew, Vi panicked. She had grown so accustomed to licking her wounds at your place, mending her heart with your touch, calming her nerves with your voice that her steps took her to you purely by instinct, like a trained dog finding its way back to its owner.

"I..." She forced the words out of her mouth, chest heavy and mind blurry. She didn't even realize she was playing with her hands in her lap, flexing the fingers, cracking the knuckles. "I have nowhere to go." Her eyes were fixed on the still surface of the teacup, the flowery scent reaching her nose shyly. You stopped blowing air on your own cup of tea, in an attempt to cool it.

"I'm sure you have a room rented at a motel or something."

No emotion showed on Vi's face, perhaps due to the overwhelming amount of contradicting feelings turning her heart numb. Her empty, wide eyes looked through the cup of steaming tea, her mind replaying the things you told her through sobs and tears last time she was here. There was nothing else to say now, you've said enough back then. There was no point in running in circles, since you poured your heart out and all she could say was 'I didn't know '.

"I held you in my arms and played with your hair until you fell asleep still crying! You're always so touchy, so flirty, and I make sure you know I love that! God damn it, Vi, we made out on the floor, several times already! How can you not know?!"

"I didn't want to be alone." She said a few moments later, not as much of an answer to your previous words but more like a second attempt at conveying her feelings. She was leaning forward now, one elbow on her knee, the other hand reaching for a biscuit. Sugar seemed a nice idea, although it wouldn't be enough to sweeten the bitter taste in her mouth.

Several possible replies crossed your mind. However mad you were at her though, they all seemed too mean, too harsh to voice out. Instead, you took a rather loud sip of your still hot drink, taking some time to think.

"You're afraid of being alone but you come here, take what you need then leave me alone every single time! How is that fair, Vi?! "

Your words echoed in her mind. You didn't seem like you were eager to have the same conversation again, but she was reliving it now like she had done countless times. You did most of the talking back then, leaving her speechless and shocked.

On the other hand, you didn't have the heart to send her away. Only you knew how painfully your fingers ached to wipe the tears away from her eyes. How hard it was to sit away from her, when everything about her face, her body, her voice begged to be held. She had a couple of fresh bruises, probably due to a bar fight. You wanted to take her to the shower and clean her, have her change into something comfortable and fresh, and see her features soften as she fell asleep.

You didn't reply at all. Somehow, a lingering feeling of shame was piercing your heart. Why couldn't you be only a friend to her? You were good at that. It was what she needed. You could never compete with Caitlyn Kiramman, not in looks or status or money or anything else, to be fair. You were unrivaled in friendship, tough, ever since you were kids.

"I'm in love with you, okay?! I hope you're not also deaf, besides being fucking blind! "

Embarrassing. Though, however embarrassing, there was no other way. Weeding the feelings out of your heart was impossible.

Vi was scared of being alone. She became aware of it when you showed up that day on the other side of the iron bars. She had grown so accustomed to the darkness and the solitude, the cold stone and hollow walls. In a way, it was easier, having nothing left to lose.

"Won't you ask me what happened?" She was still hesitant to look at you. The guilt of running away right after your confession had been eating her alive.

"Whatever it is I am sure you'll get over it." You put the cup of tea on the table, forcing your body to move. Sitting there was pointless. It was dangerous. The closer you were to her, the weaker in your resovle.

"You're still as mean as you were back when we were kids." Vi said with a tired chuckle. "But you were never mean to me."

Quicksand. You were standing on it right now when she was choosing to play the sentimental card. In exchange, you chose to stand up and call it a day, refusing to play her game.

"I'll bring you sheets and a pillow. You know where the blanket is. You can sleep on the couch tonight but don't abuse my kindness."

You managed to take only one step before her rough, bruised fingers wrapped around your wrist in a tight grip, not allowing you to leave. Her face was still turned away from you, her eyes reflected in the now cold cup of tea. You looked down at her, expecting her reasoning. All you could see was the back of her leather jacket, two hounds facing away from eachother embroidered on it. Now you realized it wasn't the lack of light in your apartment, her hair really was dyed black. You tried to pull your hand away from her grip but she only held your wrist tighter. You yanked it violently, struggling to break free. She didn't flinch one moment.

"What more do you want from me, Vi?!" You whined. Your arm rexaled in her grip, knowing any resistance was futile. Vi was too stubborn.

"Stay with me until I fall asleep. Please." Tears were pooling up again, blurring her vision. The grip on your wrist weakened and your hand easily slipped through her fingers. Before she could pull her hand away you hooked your pinky around hers, not wanting to let go either, like an unspoken promise.

"You're still as greedy as you were back when we were kids." The corner of her lips curled in a regretful smile. You pulled on her pinky finger, urging her to stand. "Go take a shower, you'll ruin my sheets."

Before she sat up, Vi wiped away the tears yet to fall with her fist while the pinky of her other hand was still glued to yours. With a clearer vision, she looked down at your hands. You took a good look at her.

"You're hurt." Only after the words left your mouth you realized how stupid it sounded.

"It's nothing much I'm... fighting in a pit in the undercity for money."

"Vi..." You sighed. Somehow, you would always end up like this. You'd scold her for getting in trouble while she would tell you about her adventures. After a full day of taking care of everyone, she would come to you to be taken care of. But band aids werent enough anymore. She seemed to be thinking about the same thing. Her fingers slowly brushed against your hands as she held both of them.

Violet had successfully broken your walls once again.

"Do you remember how mad you'd get when I wouldn't come to you when I got hurt? Although you were pretty shitty at applying band aids."

"Vi, stop it. I know what you're doing."

Her eyes finally looked up from your hands to look at you directly for the first time. A clear sky, an endless pool of light blue that you drowned in every time. You felt weak in your knees. As if she knew, she pulled you in her arms, holding you in a tight embrace. She buried her face in your hair, her fists gripping your shirt tightly. She was so warm you could melt. It didn't take long before your hair was wet with her tears. As soon as you noticed, you tried to pull away to check on her but once again she held you even tighter.

"Don't let me go." She begged, voicing the feelings that her body was already conveying. "Please, please, please."

Vi was scared of being alone. The tears formed in your eyes didn't get to fall, as your nose was buried in the crook of her neck. Instead, your tears soaked her skin. She kept repeating the word 'please' like a prayer to god, like she would stop breathing if she didn't. You had the feeling she wasn't asking for the same thing anymore. With every time she said the word, it would seem to bear a different meaning, like it contained and entire story. Maybe she was asking for forgiveness. Maybe she was asking for another chance. Maybe she was asking for the impossible.

You had no idea for how long you stood there. Time had lost all meaning. In any case, like a benevolent goddess, you answered her prayers. As always, you welcomed her in your bed. You wiped her tears away. You played with her hair, humming an old lullaby until she fell asleep. You put her back, piece by piece. As her head was resting on your chest, her breathing even and calm, you wondered what she was dreaming about. The sound of the first raindrops hitting your window made you jump and Vi's nose nuzzled against your skin as she adjusted her position in her sleep. Looking at your intertwined fingers, you realized she had probably never dreamed of you, awake or asleep.

[jksarchives]

HARD TO HOLD ON

He didn’t want this to happen, but it did.

➪ PAIRING; jungkook x reader

➪ GENRE; angst

➪TAGS/WARNINGS; established relationship, break-up, heartbreak, drabble, angst

➪ WORDCOUNT; 0.8k

26 JULY 2024

Rain pattered against the windshield and the city lights blurred past as his hands gripped the steering wheel.

“You’re going too fast,” you murmured from the passenger seat with a tight voice.

“I know,” he snapped, easing your foot off the gas. “I know, okay?”

You turned away, staring out at the rain-drenched streets. Silence filled the car, thick and suffocating, interrupted only by the squeak of the wipers and the occasional passing cars.

You wanted to say something, anything, to bridge the widening gap between you, but every word felt wrong before it even formed in your mind.

It hadn’t always been like this.

There was a time when the world melted away whenever he was with you — when his laugh could turn a bad day into something beautiful, and the touch of his hand felt like the safest place in the universe.

But now, the warmth was gone. You glanced at his profile, the sharp line of his jaw clenched in frustration. He looked like a stranger.

Again. For reasons unknown.

“Why are you angry this time?” you finally asked, your voice barely audible over the faint noise of the engine.

“I’m not angry,” he said, but the tension in his voice betrayed him.

“Don’t lie to me, Jungkook.”

He sighed. “It’s not about being angry, Y/n. It’s about…this. Us. We’re just…” He trailed off, shaking his head as if the words were too heavy to carry.

“We’re just what?” you pressed, your grip tightening on your jacket.

“Not like before,” he said finally, his voice a whisper.

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of you. Not like before. You felt it too — the growing distance, the way your arguments flared up over nothing and burned like wildfires. The way you couldn’t seem to touch each other without it feeling forced.

But you didn’t want to admit it. Not out loud.

“That’s not true,” you said with a trembling voice.

Jungkook turned to you with his gaze piercing. “Isn’t it? When was the last time we laughed together? When was the last time we looked at each other and really…saw each other?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. You hated that he was right.

When you pulled into the driveway of your small, shared apartment, the car fell silent as the engine died. Neither of you moved to get out.

Jungkook stared at the dashboard, his hands still gripping the wheel. He could feel your gaze on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet it.

“We can’t keep doing this,” he said finally.

“Doing what?” your chest tightened.

“This,” he said, gesturing between you. “Hurting each other. Pretending everything’s fine when it’s not. Making each other’s faces red with anger over things that don’t even matter.”

You flinched at the bitterness in his tone. “So what? You think we should just give up?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe. Maybe that’s what we need to do.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away.

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “We can’t just throw everything away, Jungkook. We’ve been through too much together. We can fix this.”

“How?” he asked, his voice breaking. “How do we fix something that feels so…broken?”

You didn’t have an answer.

The tension followed you both like a shadow inside the flat. The silence between you was louder than any argument you had, and the once-cosy room felt frigid and alienating.

You sat on the edge of the couch with your hands clasped tightly in your lap. While Jungkook stood by the window, staring out at the rain.

“I don’t want to lose you Jungkook” your soft voice broke the silence.

He turned to you with his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and exhaustion. “I don’t want to lose you either, Y/n. But we’re holding on so tightly that we’re hurting each other. It’s like…we don’t know how to let go, even though we should.”

The words cut deep because you knew they were true. You were holding on to the memory of what you both used to be, because you were too afraid of facing the possibility that you might not find your way back to it.

Jungkook was lying awake in bed that night, gazing up at the ceiling. Your steady breathing filled the room, but it didn’t comfort him the way it used to. He felt the weight of your presence, the unspoken thoughts lingering between you like a wall.

His thoughts strayed to your early days together, the late-night talks, the stolen looks, and the times you laughed until your sides ached.

How did you end up here?

When did everything start to fall apart?

a/n; this was loosely inspired by SEVENTEEN’s Fast Pace

[fanfics4all]

Forgiveness

Request: Yes / No Fluffcember Day 26!

Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader 

Word count: 737

Warnings: Just happy caring fluff!

Prompt(s): Forgiveness

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*Draco’s POV*

Diagon Alley felt different in the winter twilight… softer, quieter, as if the bustling energy had finally dulled, leaving behind a muted calm that clung to the cold air. The lanterns cast warm pools of light against the cobblestone streets, and as I walked alone, my hand buried deep in my coat pockets, I found myself drifting in thought. 

It had been years since the war ended, but memories of that time lingered like ghosts. Regret clung to me, a constant silent companion that kept me in the shadows even now, years after Hogwarts and the battle that changed everything. I was no longer Draco Malfoy, the self-assured Slytherin prince; I was just a man trying to rebuild a life from the fragments left in the wake of all I’ve done. I became so lost in my thoughts that I almost didn’t see her until she called my name. 

“Draco?” I froze, the sound of my name jolting me out of my thoughts. Turning, I found myself face-to-face with her. She was in my year at Hogwarts, but we never spoke much back then, only in passing. Yet, she was unforgettable. Her eyes held a kindness I didn’t deserve, her expression soft as she stood there, her hands tucked into her coat. 

“Hello.” I forced myself to meet her gaze. I wasn’t quite sure what she was doing talking to me, of all people. 

She took a small step closer and though I expected anger and judgment I’d long since grown used to, her face held none of that. Just a quiet understanding that made me more uncomfortable than anything. 

“Are you… doing well?” She gently asked. I almost scoffed at the question, but caught myself, nodding instead. 

“As well as I can be, and you?” I replied, the words sounding stiff even to me. 

“I’m alright, thank you. Just picking up a few things.” She answered, het face brightening a bit. She held up a small bag, and we fell into silence, neither of us quite sure how to continue. Yet, she didn’t move and her gaze remained steady on me, as if she was waiting for something. 

“Listen…” I began, shifting uncomfortably. 

“I know what you must think of me, what everyone thinks of me… and I wouldn’t blame you if you hate me. I know I deserve it.” The worlds were out before I could stop them, blunt and honest in a way I rarely allowed myself. She didn’t flinch or look away. Instead, her expression softened and she took a step forward. 

“I know you’ve been through a lot, we all have… and I can’t pretend to understand everything you went through, but…” She paused as if searching for the right words. 

“I just wanted you to know that I don’t hold it against you, any of it.” I looked down at the ground, the familiar guilt and shame brewing inside me. 

“You should hold it against me… everyone should…” I said, bitterness creeping into my tone despite myself. She shook her head, her voice soft yet firm. 

“I don’t believe that people can change. I believe you were just as trapped as everyone else.” Her words hung in the air, cutting through the tension like a knife, but in the best possible way. I forced myself to look up, meeting her eyes. 

“Why are you saying this? Why forgive me?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. She took a deep breath, her gaze unwavering. 

“Because holding onto the past won’t change anything, Draco. You did things you regret, I can see that. Yet here you are, trying to move forward like everyone else.” 

It was almost too much to take in. All this time, I’d been ready to face the sneers and the disgust, but forgiveness? I never thought it possible, not from anyone outside my family, let alone from her. 

“Thank you…” I managed to say, feeling a weight lift ever so slightly. Her forgiveness loosened the chains of guilt I’d been carrying all these years. She offered a small smile, and it was enough to make the cold, empty street feel just a bit warmer. 

“You don’t have to thank me, just remember that you’re not alone, okay?” I nodded, unable to find any words. 

“Perhaps we could get a drink, maybe catch up?” She asked and I gave her a small smile. 

“I’d like that…”

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @lover-of-books-and-tea @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches28 @kmc1989 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @ready-4-fanfiction @madammarvellous-blog1 @in-slytherin-we-trust @accio-rogers @sambucky8 @bruisedfists-and-splitlips @answer-the-sirens @andreasworlsboring101 @vanessa-kom-skaikru @impulse-anchor @psamathegoesrawr @nighttimemoonlover @liz-owl @dracoswhvre​

[mafuyuslover]

— kissing under the mistletoe.

tattoo artist!xiao x florist!reader

byr: fluff , reader is gn , somewhat ooc xiao (?) i don't know

>> @1eaf-me-alone , i was your secret santa for the event hosted by @2024gisecretsanta , hope you'll enjoy !! (it's literally 3 am, and i need to go to sleep i sincerely apologize for any and all mistakes)

in truth, it seemed an unlikely pairing— he, a tattoo artist, immersed in the world of ink and skin; and you, a humble florist, surrounded by the delicate fragrances of petals and stems. yet despite the vast chasm between their trades, he found himself drawn, time and time again, to your flower shop. not for the blooms themselves, but for the simple, bright smile your face carried whenever he walked through the door.

with christmas fast approaching, your little shop was transformed, dressed in festive splendor. a tree stood in the corner, its branches twinkling with lights, while the soft glow of candles reflected in the delicate petals of flowers. he, on the other hand, was indifferent to such adornments— mere trinkets meant to be discarded once the season had passed. “a waste of money,” he would convince himself, though the truth of the matter lay in a deeper appreciation of beauty he would never admit.

the door’s bell jingled merrily as he entered, his presence as silent as the winter's chill. “merry christmas,” he greeted, his voice carrying little warmth, but still, it was a greeting.

you looked up, eyes alight with a warmth that could melt even the iciest of souls— and his was no exception. “merry christmas!” you replied joyfully, your voice as sweet as the song of a sparrow. “what can i do for you today?”

he glanced around, as if seeking something beyond the blooms, before his gaze fell upon the simple flower tucked in your hair. his eyes lingered, though he said nothing. meanwhile, you busied yourself with arranging a few things on the counter.

"what would you recommend?" he asked, his tone soft yet inquisitive, though his eyes never quite left you.

as you spoke, detailing the different flowers with a passionate enthusiasm, he was entranced not by the flora, but by you— the way your eyes sparkled with joy, the way your voice carried such a love for the florets. his heart, so often cold and distant, stirred in ways he could not quite name.

“these poinsettias,” you offered, presenting a vibrant bouquet. “they represent good will— perfect for the festive season.”

a quiet flutter stirred within him, a warmth he could not ignore. “perfect,” he murmured, his voice betraying a gentleness that few had ever heard.

as you wrapped the roses, your excitement bubbled forth. “christmas eve is tomorrow! i’m hosting a small gathering at my place. a few friends, a little music, maybe a dance or two. it’s going to be lovely.”

xiao, who was more accustomed to the solitude of his tattoo parlor than the clamor of celebration, found himself intrigued by the vision you painted. He could almost visualize you— laughter in your eyes, your friends gathered around, partying away as the flicker of firelight casted shadows in your home.

"sounds... lively," he admitted, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, rare and fleeting.

in a moment of spontaneity, you spoke before thinking. “you should come! it would be nice to have someone new there.” it was only then you realized what you had said, your cheeks dusted a bright pink. then, as if to retract your words, you added, “of course, only if you'd want to.”

he arched an eyebrow, an amused glint in his eyes. “me?”

“yes!” you said with a laugh. “you could join us—if you'd like..”

for a long moment, xiao was silent, his gaze thoughtful. then, his lips parted as he mustered the courage to speak up. “i might just consider it,” he said with a soft smile that seemed to promise more than mere words.

—

and so it was, on christmas eve, xiao stood in your home, an outsider amidst the warmth of your circle. your friends were lively, filled with the spirit of the season, while you, ever the gracious host, moved about with a charm that left him speechless. he watched you, admiring the effortless way you engaged with others, your laughter rich and genuine, your clumsy attempts at dancing endearing.

as the evening wore on, the music softened, and the fire crackled merrily in the hearth. there, beneath the mistletoe, you caught his eye— a glint of mischief dancing in yours.

“merry christmas,” you whispered, the chill of the air mingling with the warmth between you.

in that quiet, suspended moment, xiao allowed his stoic facade to slip. slowly, he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss— gentle at first, but one that stirred something deep within him. a spark. a fire. it was a kiss that, like the rarest of flowers, bloomed in the coldest of seasons.

it was only after what felt like an eternity that you reluctantly parted your lips, your eyes meeting his in a shared gaze filled with unspoken affection. his fingers brushed against yours, tentative yet warm, until they gently intertwined, and you held his hand with a shy but heartfelt grip.

for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade, leaving only the rhythm of your breaths and the unyielding pull of your connection. he smiled, the corners of his mouth lifting with a mix of tenderness and mischief, as if he’d been waiting for this moment as long as you had.

“you’re not what i expected,” you whispered, your voice soft but steady, the honesty of your words filling the space between you.

“neither are you,” he admitted, his thumb tracing lazy circles on the back of your hand. “but i think that’s what makes this feel so.. right.”

though your lives and personalities couldn’t have been more different, something about the difference made every touch, every look, every word shared feel extraordinary.

as his laugh mingled with your smile, the thought settled in your heart like the ending of a story you’d always wanted to live:

it is as they say, opposites really do attract.

goober

[cheynovak]

Shadows and Songs 2

Azriel x Y/N female Illyrian

Summary: Azriel saved Y/N. Her wings where taken from her. She barely survived, the only thing she remembers during recovering is hearing a voice sing.

Warnings: Nothing explicit, build up tension, fight, anger, ...

English isn't my first language.

Please do not copy my work. Likes, reblogs and comments are welcome.

The days that followed were quiet, but not in the way they’d been when I first came to the House of Wind. Back then, the silence had been suffocating—too thick to breathe through, heavy with memories I wanted to escape. Now, it was… strange.

The inner circle seemed to envelop me almost overnight. Whether it was pity or something else, I didn’t know. Rhysand especially seemed determined to make me feel like I belonged. He’d offered me a job, his tone so charming it nearly had me agreeing on instinct. But I’d declined, respectfully but firmly. A job meant staying close, and I couldn’t. Not with Azriel still looming in the shadows of my mind.

Still, I accepted Rhysand’s offer for a small rental apartment on the outskirts of Velaris. It was cozy, not far from the river. Small enough to feel manageable, and with just enough space to let me breathe on my own. Moving there meant I wouldn’t have to see Azriel anymore—not by chance, not in passing, not in the ways that tied me up in knots.

I thought about telling Rhys the truth of why I needed to move, why staying wasn’t an option. But when his easy grin softened into something warm and understanding, I decided not to explain. Maybe he knew anyway. Maybe all of them knew.

***

In the weeks that followed, I adjusted to my new normal. Mor dragged me into town a handful of times, her unyielding enthusiasm pulling me along even when I resisted. Amren stopped by the apartment once, bringing a book I hadn’t asked for but found myself engrossed in that same night.

Cassian, dropped by regularly, he helped me learning how to walk properly, with an insufferable grin and stories that always left me laughing despite feeling bad. Losing my wings meant also losing my balance.

But he also to talked about Nesta. The way he spoke about the older sister made my heart warm. That man was in deep and I was all for it!

He sounded like my brother, and I started to feel at ease with him around. Just like my brother he didn't need much from me to understand how I felt and what I needed to cheer me up.

Feyre, even convinced me to sit by the river with her one afternoon, painting the rolling hills beyond while I listened to the hum of Velaris around us.

Well, she painted I watched quietly.

They’d all seemed to adopt me in their own ways, the warmth of their camaraderie spilling into the cracks I’d been hiding in. For once, it didn’t feel suffocating to let someone in.

But Azriel?

He didn’t come.

At least, not directly.

I could feel him lingering—watching from a distance even when I couldn’t see him. Sometimes it was a shadow I swore moved unnaturally as I walked through the city.

A pull in my chest while I lay in bed at night, a push whenever I was insecure about going outside. An emotion that wasn't mine popped up when I was alone.

Or the faint feeling of being watched just before I looked over my shoulder. He wasn’t there in person, but I wasn’t free of him either.

He didn’t say a word after the night he’d rejected me, though. Didn’t explain, didn’t try to mend the rift growing between us. And I didn’t ask.

Distance, I told myself, was for the best. Yet no amount of distance dulled the memory of that kiss, the ghost of his touch on my skin.

Some nights, I found myself sitting on the edge of the bed, staring into nothingness as my mind replayed the way he’d kissed me—soft at first, then desperate, like I was the air he needed to breathe.

And the way he’d pulled back. Shut me out.

“You’re hurt.”

“I can’t take advantage of you.”

The words played on an endless loop, twisting into something bitter no matter how hard I tried to let them go.

Azriel didn’t see me as more than broken, and I couldn’t stop wishing he did.

***

The knock at my door startled me, sharp against the quiet of my small apartment. I glanced at the clock, sighing. It was early—too early. My immediate thought was that Cassian had come to drag me to some ridiculous training session with Nesta and her friends.

Rubbing at my eyes, I pulled the door open, preparing a playful excuse to avoid the day. But the words died on my tongue as I saw who it was.

Azriel.

His presence filled the small hallway like a shadow curling at the edges of the room. He wasn’t armored like he usually was for his missions. Instead, he wore a simple shirt and dark pants that did nothing to downplay his quiet strength. His wings were tucked behind him, the faint light from outside framing him in a way that made me momentarily forget how to speak.

“Hi,” he said softly, his voice low and even, yet there was a slight hesitation there.

I froze, swallowing hard, trying to muster a response. Anything. But his gaze held mine, the weight of it making the words stick in my throat.

After what felt like an eternity, Azriel cleared his throat and spoke again, “It’s the Winter Solstice.” His tone was gentle, like he was testing how I might react. “I came to… invite you to join us. At the House of Wind.”

I blinked at him, and he quickly added, “Rhys is already half-expecting you.”

The mention of Rhysand made the offer feel less intimidating, like there was no way I could refuse even if every nerve in my body screamed to keep my distance.

Azriel waited, his expression unreadable except for the faintest flicker of unease in his hazel eyes. As though he didn’t know whether I’d slam the door in his face.

“I… okay,” I finally said, stumbling over the single word. “I’ll come.”

His shoulders seemed to relax just slightly, a subtle shift most people might not even notice. “Good,” he said after a beat. “We’ll have dinner, with friends."

He nodded once, almost as if reassuring himself. And without another word, he turned and left, disappearing down the stairs before I could respond or second-guess my agreement.

I closed the door, pressing my back against it, my heart racing.

Azriel. Inviting me.

Just the memory of his eyes on mine—soft and distant but unmistakably steady—left me mesmerized. Solstice at the House of Wind.

This was going to be… complicated.

***

Dinner at the House of Wind was far more tense than I could have ever imagined.

The Inner Circle was warm and welcoming, laughing and teasing over wine and a beautifully prepared feast. But beneath the surface, tension churned—its source unmistakable to anyone paying attention.

My gaze flickered to Elain, Feyre’s sister, who sat poised and ethereal, the picture of soft beauty. Her eyes, however, were daggers as they locked on another female at the table. Gwyn.

Gwyn had just thanked Azriel for her Solstice gift, her fingers brushing the delicate jewel hanging at her neck. It caught the light, shimmering beautifully, though not nearly as brightly as the gratitude in her smile.

Elain didn’t share that gratitude.

Her posture stiffened, her lips tightening just enough to make her disapproval clear. She hadn’t even tried to mask her reaction, the jealousy rolling off her in subtle, tense waves.

Azriel, meanwhile, seemed caught between them, his hazel eyes flickering nervously to Elain as though bracing for whatever venom she might spill.

And it was then, watching that exchange, that it all hit me.

He was in love. Or at least it was complicated. No matter the moments we’d shared, no matter the way my heart pounded every time I was near him, Azriel already had two stunningly beautiful women vying for his attention. Both of them more suitable, more radiant, more... everything I wasn’t.

I wasn’t a fool. I didn’t belong in this game, not with Elain looking like she belonged in a painting and Gwyn glowing with confidence and kindness. Showing up every morning training with them, showing him what she's worth.

The meal continued, but the knot in my chest only grew tighter. Every time Gwyn glanced at Azriel with a soft smile or Elain shot him a look of thinly veiled hurt, my stomach churned.

Eventually, the tension in the room became suffocating.

I set my wine glass down carefully, the noise of it meeting the table louder than I’d intended. All eyes flicked to me as I stood, smoothing the skirt of my dress. “Cassian,” I said, my tone steady despite the emotions warring inside me, “would you mind flying me back down? I think I’ve had enough for tonight.”

Cassian frowned slightly, the humor slipping from his expression, but before he could answer, Azriel stood abruptly. “I’ll do it.”

I turned to face him, a smirk playing on my lips—one laced with bitterness I couldn’t fully hide. “Sorry, Azriel,” I said, “but it seems you invited a few too many girlfriends tonight, I think your occupied.”

My words landed like a slap.

The entire table froze, and for a moment, the only sound was the crackling fire behind us.

And then Elain spoke.

Her voice was sweet, but the bite underneath it was impossible to miss. “Her too?"she asked sharply, her gaze narrowing at me. “What, you first try Mor then me, Gwyn and now her, placing a bet on more than one horse, are you?”

The weight of the room shifted as everyone turned their attention to her. "Trust me he's not interested in me." I spat out. "He made that very clear."

Azriel looked as though we'd struck him. His jaw tightened as he stared at her, shadows flickering darkly around his feet. His voice, when he finally spoke, was low and tightly controlled. “You handed me the necklace back, Elain. That was a clear sign to me ."

It took a moment for her to respond, but the hurt simmering in her eyes didn’t waver. “And you immediately ran to someone else?”

Gwyn, sitting on the other side of Azriel, looked stunned—her hand hovering over the jewel at her neck, her cheeks coloring with embarrassment.

Gwyn said, her voice soft but firm. “I didn’t even know—”

I didn’t wait for her to finish.

“Cassian?” I asked again, pulling everyone’s attention back to me as I ignored the thick, stifling tension brewing at the table. I wasn’t part of this, didn’t want to be part of it. “Please?”

Cassian shot Azriel a curious glance, his hazel eyes narrowing as though weighing some unspoken argument, but when Azriel said nothing, Cassian nodded once. “Of course.”

Without another word, I turned on my heel and strode toward the door, willing myself not to look back.

The burn of humiliation followed me as I left, but I didn’t falter. I didn’t dare let them see how much it hurt—how small I’d felt sitting at that table, surrounded by people who saw each other but somehow never truly saw me.

And yet… as Cassian led me toward the balcony, I felt the faint, familiar brush of shadows curling near my feet.

“Y/N, don’t go.”

Azriel’s voice cut through the cool night air like a blade, sharp and desperate.

I froze mid-step on the balcony, Cassian stopping beside me. I glanced at him, his brow raised as he looked between me and Azriel. He seemed torn between stepping aside and staying to protect me from whatever this was.

“Give us a moment?” Azriel asked, though his tone was more of a command than a question.

Cassian looked to me, silently asking for reassurance. I gave him a small nod, forcing down the lump rising in my throat. Without a word, Cassian stepped back inside, leaving Azriel and me alone in the moonlit quiet.

Azriel turned to me, his wings flexing slightly as though he couldn’t quite settle. He stepped closer, his eyes scanning me with an intensity that left me breathless. “How is your back?” he asked softly.

My anger flared.

“Really!? That’s what you have to say to me?” I snapped, my voice rising. “How’s your back?” I gave a bitter laugh, stepping closer and glaring up at him

"After everything. Y-you turned me down, Azriel. You acted like I didn’t matter. And yet you’ve been spying on me, haven’t you? You damn well know how my back is! It's horrible, I can't proper walk, I miss flying, there are days I try to walk around my tiny apartment afraid I bump then into my furniture."

"Other days I wish you just left me there."

"You would have died!" He snapped at me.

"Good! Then I wouldn't have been such an inconvenience to you!"

Frustration bubbled over, and I shoved his chest. It was like hitting a brick wall, my push barely moving him as I stumbled back from the force of my own anger.

"Well, it's you who made a fool out of me in there." His expression didn’t waver, though his jaw tightened. “I don’t know what you think there is between us,” he said quietly, shadows shifting at his feet, “but it’s just you… falling for the guy who saved you.”

“No!” I shouted, my hands trembling as I clenched them into fists. “I know what there is, Azriel! You’re just too damn afraid to admit it!”

He didn’t move, his hazel eyes locked on mine, his expression inscrutable. But he was listening—I could see it in the way his shadows stilled, the way his wings tightened against his back.

I stepped closer, my chest heaving with each breath. “I feel you when you’re near,” I said, my voice shaking but firm. “Even when I can’t see you, I feel the pull. And I know you feel mine, too. I see it in the way you watch me. I feel it in every step you take toward me only to stop yourself before you cross some line you made up.”

Azriel’s gaze flickered to my lips for the barest moment before he caught himself. "That's not..."

“You’re just too scared to admit it,” I continued, my voice softer but no less raw. We were toe to toe now, the air between us crackling like lightning. “And you know what, that’s fine, Azriel. You don’t have to accept it. But don’t you dare deny it. We’re ma…”

The words caught in my throat, but before I could finish the sentence, two strong hands wrapped around my cheeks.

Azriel pulled me against him with a force that knocked the breath from my lungs, and his lips crashed down on mine.

It wasn’t soft, wasn’t tentative—it was full of unspoken words, of frustration and longing. His hands anchored me to him, one sliding up to tangle in my hair as if I might vanish if he didn’t hold on tightly enough.

I melted into him, every thought, every doubt evaporating under the weight of his kiss. The world around us blurred until there was nothing but him—his touch, his lips, but the raw intensity of the moment was quickly over shadowed by my pride and anger.

The anger churned hot in my veins as I tilted my head back and slammed it forward, cracking my forehead against Azriel’s nose. The resounding *crack* echoed in the air, and Azriel stumbled back, a startled shout escaping him.

“Fuck!" he hissed, his hand flying to his face. He pressed against his nose, wincing as he pushed it back into place, his glare sharp enough to cut. “Why the hell did you do that?”

I ignored him completely. My eyes locked onto Cassian, who stood near the doorway, accompanied by the rest of the guests, his brows lifted in stunned amusement. “Listen, Cassian,” I ground out, “if you don’t take me down right now—”

“No!” Azriel roared behind me, his shadows swirling angrily at his feet. “You stay right here, we're not done!”

I didn’t even flinch at his command. I kept my focus on Cassian, who looked at me with something close to apology and pity. “Sorry, Y/N,” he said, hands raised in surrender. “He’s still my brother. Can’t interfere.”

My lips twitched in irritation as I snapped, “Fine! I’ll take the fucking stairs."

I stormed toward the staircase, but before I could so much as take two steps, strong hands grabbed me by the waist.

“What the hell, Azriel?” I shrieked as he lifted me clear off the ground and tossed me gently back onto the balcony.

“You’re not walking down those stairs in this state, you can't even walk them when you're calm and you know it!” he muttered, his voice clipped. “I’ll take you home—once you cool down.”

"C-cool down?!" I repeated, my voice going shrill as I whirled to face him.

Behind Azriel, Rhysand let out a low whistle, his violet eyes sparkling with amusement. “Oh-oh…” he murmured, clearly entertained. “Azriel, I think you forget who you’re dealing with here. She’s still Illyrian, you know.” Feyre bumped her elbow in his side, mouthing "not helping!"

Cassian laughed, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “Yeah, Az, even I know better than to tell a female to ‘cool off.’”

Azriel’s lips twitched, as though suppressing the urge to snap back at them, but his gaze stayed focused on me. He shifted slightly, trying to block my path, but I wasn’t having it.

“Move,” I ordered, pushing past him toward the stairs again. But before I could make it even a single step this time, he was faster.

Azriel’s arms scooped me up in one swift motion, his wings flaring wide as he stepped off the balcony and into the open sky.

I didn’t have time to protest before we were airborne, my apartment coming into view below us. My anger surged, words tumbling from my mouth without thought. “Put me down, Azriel! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Making sure you get home in one piece,” he said calmly, though I could feel the tension radiating off him in waves.

“By manhandling me?” I snapped, my fists pounding against his chest in frustration. “You don’t get to decide how I leave, or when, or who takes me home—”

“Yes, I do,” he interrupted firmly, his voice low but unwavering. “When you’re so mad you can barely think straight, and when the stairs would leave you pacing for hours, yes, I do.”

"I can barely think straight!? You kissed me while all your girlfriends are in the other room." But as much as I hated to admit it, some small, quiet part of me knew he wasn’t entirely wrong. I still wasn't fully recovered.

Still, I glared up at him. “You’re infuriating.”

Azriel didn’t respond, his mouth twitching as though holding back a smile. The tension between us hung heavy in the air as he descended, landing softly in front of my apartment. Without a word, he set me down on my feet, steadying me with a hand on my arm.

But he didn’t pull back immediately. Instead, he held me there, his gaze lingering on my face, searching for… something.

My breath hitched at the weight of those words. I should have said it. Should have walked into my apartment and slammed the door in his face.

But I couldn’t. He walked me back inside and we stood in front of my door. Waiting for one of us to say something... anything.

--

Taglist:

@mich0731 @winchesterwild78 @paintedbyshadows @lilah-asteria @nancymcl @hobby27 @kindollss @shadysoulangel @tele86

[dissociation-station123]

LADS Fanfic: Sylus X Reader

Chapter 4: Discoveries

Small Disclaimer: Reader discusses abusive relationship

After the arcade you decided on a drive. It was still a bit chilly for a walk. By now you would have been ready to head home, but strangely you were enjoying yourself.

“Your favorite color is red.” Sylus wiggles his brows, the hues of his eyes reflecting in the moonlight dashingly. You laugh at his silly demeanor.

“Well maroon but sure.” You say and he smiles in your direction. His smile was becoming one of your favorite things. “And yours isn’t? Shocking.” You motion to the trim of the car’s interior. He simply shrugs.

“Are you hungry? I feel like we really didn’t get to eat.” You ask patting the plushie on your lap affectionately. He hums as he taps his fingers along the steering wheel.

“I don’t know if any places are open now.” He answers, swiping on the large screen in the middle console to check. You stop him and he looks at you from the corner of his eyes.

You both had been talking for a while and you didn’t realize how late it had gotten. “I know of a place. Head towards my neighborhood.” He nods and heads in that direction.

-

“Hey! You're out really late today!” The clerk greets you as he sees you walk in. You wave and watch as his face falls when he spots Sylus towering behind you.

“Yeah, I surprised myself.” You grin and head towards the counter. “Anything for me?” You ask leaning over to view what is available. When he doesn’t respond right away you look up, the clerks gaze directed at your new friend, as if sizing him up.

Sylus stands closer to you, an amused expression on his face as he returns the stare. “No place to sit and eat here sweetie. Are we heading to your place after then?” His tone teasing. He is full of confidence, so much so he grabs your arm, intertwining it in his own.

You now know the game he was playing and you want no part of it. You stomp on his foot with as much force as you could muster. Not expecting your attack he yelps, releasing you at once. “This is my FRIEND Sylus. He can be a dick sometimes.”

The clerk chuckles and shakes his head in understanding. “Any friend of Y/N is gladly welcomed here at my store. Nice to meet you.” He holds at his hand, Sylus still recovering fumbles a bit to return it.

“Per usual I can fry up whatever your heart desires Y/N.” The man says walking over to prepare the deep fryer. “We just got a fresh batch of wings in.” You excitedly shake your head and he laughs.

Now that the strange tension had passed between the two men, they both chatted idly. The strong smell of the freshly cooked wings had you salivating and your stomach rumbling. “Two more minutes!” The clerk laughed and you shield your face. You walk to the back refrigerator and peruse the beer.

A shadow befalls and Sylus stands with a small scowl. “Yeah it’s not fancy but it will do for now.” You grumble pushing him to the side to grab a six pack.

-

You hesitantly stand at the door to your apartment, key in hand, contemplating if this was a smart move. Sylus waits patiently holding the bags of food and drink. “You alright?” He questions eyebrow raised.

“You aren’t going to murder me right?” You respond back with a question of your own. He thinks about it for a second mockingly.

“I’ve met my murder quota for the month so you're safe until next month.” He jests still standing relaxed, no coercion. “What is really bothering you?”

You know it’s not that you are bringing him home, you have no nefarious images playing in your mind. “I haven't brought anyone over since I moved in here. It’s always just been me.” You admit still dangling the keys in the lock. It was not about him in particular.

Sylus looks at you in understanding. “I can go. You can enjoy your chicken in peace. I also will never judge you about something like this.” This felt like a line, you wonder if you were ready to step across it.

You turn the key and take a breath. “It’s fine.” You whisper more to yourself as you open your door. The same darkness and quiet greet you as you enter. The rustle of the bags and the large man behind you remind you tonight you are not alone.

“Stay right there for like just a minute!” You order and grab the bags from his hands. You rush to the living room placing them on the cheap coffee table, while simultaneously shoving discarded trash in the plastic bags. Haphazardly you grab and place items into your random things closet to make room. You give the space one last glance over and decide that is good as it gets for now.

You walk back over and lead him deeper inside. “Welcome. It’s not the luxury I’m sure you're used to but it’s my home.” He looks around and then sits on the worn out couch, looking out of place.

“It’s cozy.” He says grinning as he places the Dino plushie on the arm of the chair. You decide to take his statement as a compliment even if it was meant to be backhanded. You watch him lean back as if he owns the space, you imagine he feels like that wherever he is. He is still wearing a heavy jacket, his large frame even bigger.

You shed your own coat then motion to take his. “Undressing me already?” He teases his voice low, you hate that it makes your skin heat up.

“Take it off or keep it on. I was just being a good host.” You mutter opening the boxes of food, he chuckles. You hear rustling and then the jacket is in front of you. You snatch it from his hands and he simply laughs at your bristly attitude.

After hanging up his coat you flip on the tv and begin laying everything out. He does not make a remark about greasy food, instead taking a large bite he makes a satisfied sound. “The longer I spend with you the better this stuff tastes.” He adds and opens a beer.

“Everyone needs some comfort food from time to time.” You say while digging in yourself. His face falters for a second but then that grin returns as he nods in agreement.

After the initial shock of having another human in your space fades, you begin to feel more secure. Both of you were chatting casually the sounds from the tv mere background noise. Laughter being the main sound ringing around the small area.

“This is nice. It’s been a while since I’ve simply spoken without motives.” Sylus admits and your heart breaks at his words. You also felt a kinship and you nod in agreement. “What motives could you possibly have?” He grins at how easily you relate.

“Nothing as nefarious as you I’m sure.” You tease and he shrugs leaning closer to show he is interested in your words. “I think I use my words as a way to appear normal. Get by in situations where I have to be social. But my words are always hollow.”

He studies you, Sylus has a way of making you feel at ease. “What about in your more intimate relationships? Has there been a time where you did not have to pretend?” Then he shatters that ease with two questions. A few words and memories you longed to forget begin to surface.

“This is getting a bit heavy…” you say popping open another can of beer and taking a sip. “It seems a bit unfair.” You look over pointedly and he sighs but a small smile still lays on his features.

“I like a fair deal. If you answer my questions then you can ask me some as well.” He answers and you hold out your hand, he shakes it firmly.

“I have let my guard down a few times in my life. Majority of the time I learned that it is a painful mistake. I have a handful of people in my life that have proven it’s worth it.” You muster your thoughts a bit jumbled as you reminisce on your life.

“You were married once, right?” He asks and you glare at him. “Did you not share your true self with them?” You groan at his follow up questions.

“Going for the dagger straight away. How cruel of you Sylus.” You respond but his face is now serious. As if he was searching for something for himself, an answer to a question related to his own life.

When he does not respond with his usual playful banter you continue. “Yes I was. At first I was just as cautious. Yet his positive personality broke through with ease. I was enamored by their interest in all my peculiar hobbies and characteristics. He made me feel safe. I ignored things I shouldn’t have. Particularly the way he began to distance me from others. All those sweet compliments he gave me shifted over time to venomous disdain. So much so I hated myself. He made me awaken my emotions only in the end to make me even more numb than I was before them.”

His hand reaches out to touch you but you quickly pull away. “Did you find the answer you were looking for?” You ask a bit bitterly and he frowns. He shakes his head and passes you your drink, you take it and a large sip later you face him again. “So what happened? Was this person horrible to you?”

His eyes shift from concern to sadness as he lets out a breath. “A deal is a deal…” he begrudgingly whispers, taking a minute to collect himself. “She was perfect in every way. Sweet and caring even when she shouldn’t have been. I didn’t deserve it yet she did not hesitate. She made the right decision in the end. Even if it broke me to pieces I respected it.”

“Sylus.” You call out his name as his eyes grow distant again. He blinks and looks over at you. “I trusted you to let you in my home. You are not this horrible person you think you are. I think she made a mistake. I think she wasn’t strong enough for you.”

Sylus smiles and it reaches his eyes. Then he shrugs and shakes his head. “If only we could take what we see in each other Y/N and see it in ourselves. Also maybe you're just naive, letting me in ....” He winks and you lightly shove his shoulder.

“I’m being serious. What she didn’t appreciate you spoiling her with gifts and attention? I can tell that’s how you show affection. I find it overwhelming and a bit stalkerish but you know most people love it.” You say teasing him back and he chuckles softly.

“Rude…” he mutters but his expression brightens. “No, she appreciated it a lot. Just two very different lifestyles. Dangerous in their own way but I didn’t want to drag her into mine. She is better than me, purer.” You can tell he is being sentimental but the moment the word purer is uttered your face cringes. “What is that face about?”

“I get a full body cringe when men use that word to describe women. To me it feels oppressive and demeaning.” You try to explain and he doesn’t disagree, simply listens to what you have to say. “There is beauty in chaos and messes.”

“I see what you mean.” He grins studying you for awhile, a bit too intensely before continuing, “I guess I just feel my way of life is a bit tainted. I appreciate your judgement-free way of thinking.” He looks pleased at the way you shrug. “I still think you're naive at times” You flick him off and he laughs again.

“Did you even put up a fight for her? Or did you let someone else sweep her off her feet?” You ask and his eyes lower and he scowls at your questioning. “I don’t know that I’ve ever felt what it’s like to be loved. But from observing others it seems it would be worth it.”

His anger fades a bit after you explain your thoughts. “I love her even now. So much that I want the safest and happiest life for her. Something that would be impossible if she stayed with me.”

“What are you? Some kind of soft hearted mob boss?” You laugh but he does not join you. Your eyes widen at what feels like a confession.

“I own many businesses, not all of them exactly legal. I am a powerful figure and that brings me enemies.” He explains and your mouth opens, he quickly pushes on your chin to close it. The original shock wears off after a few seconds.

“We all do what we have to to survive. I still think you are crazy for giving up your soul mate. Not like she was a cop or something.” You say rolling your eyes and again you're met with silence. “Sylus…” you say his name and his expression is flat. “Fuck she is a cop.” He nods and you groan. “Well she sure is not pure then working for this corrupt system. You sure can pick them…”

“Says the woman who fell in love with and married a narcissistic bastard.” His words were harsh but not untrue. You both stare at each other, trying to muddle through both of your confessions.

Without warning you both pick up a beer and chug it simultaneously. Another glance into each other's eyes and you both erupt in a deep soulful chuckle, long and healing. Tears gathered in both the corners of your eyes, you both release a string of curses as you struggle to regain your breaths. You startle him when you speak again, with a sincere and fiery tone.

“You say you're a bad guy but I think you're wrong. Have you heard of the company Onychinus?” He freezes at your words and his body visibly tenses up. That was all the confirmation you needed. “The N109 zone has been written off and abandoned by most of the city. Even the large companies known for gentrifying neighborhoods like mine won’t touch it. But this company goes against the grain. They work with the community to maintain and reconstruct old buildings. Those that live there have said they never had a rent increase no matter how many amenities are added. They also say that local businesses there often receive financial help to keep them afloat.”

“That sounds like a good way to fail as a company in this world and a wild fantasy made up by desperate people.” He tries to counter your claims but the look in his eyes is as if he is testing you, feeling you out.

“If the rumours are true I think that whoever is in charge of this Onychinus must be someone of strong moral character and very kind hearted.” You look back with a similar expression, causing him to smirk those reddish eyes glint with amusement.

“Sweetie, it's nothing more than a fairytale. You need to log off for a while. Get outside more.” He chastises you and you shake your head. You could tell he was not ready to let you in all the way. You respect his boundaries.

The sun peeks through your window alerting you that you have stayed up the entire night. As if on cue a yawn escapes your lips, Sylus cups the side of your face gently. You hold your breath as you look up at him, your brows drawn close in confusion. “Get some sleep.” He mutters softly, watching you for a few seconds before withdrawing. He stands abruptly and you shake yourself back to reality.

He gets up and makes his way to grab his coat. He walks to your door glancing over his shoulder. You stand to see him out and as he opens the door before crossing the threshold he asks, “What made you look into the N109 zone?”

“One night at the bar you mentioned growing up in a certain apartment. I recognized the name and where it was located.” You explain and he bites his lip intrigued by your deduction.

“Clever woman…” he teases ruffling your hair and you scowl pushing him away. He chuckles softly, he suddenly opens his arms to you. He scolds you with his expression at your hesitation. You sigh and eventually wrap your arms around him. You both take in a deep breath, his masculine smell invading your senses. His muscular arms make you feel secure as he squeezes. “It was a pleasure Y/N.” He whispers and you tell him goodnight. Both of you are hesitant now to let go. “We have to do this again.” You nod with a bright unwavering smile as he returns it and walks away.

~

Empty, you felt barren, unfeeling as you walked around for the day? Week? Weeks? A certified zombie, attacking anyone who approached you with a cold hazy stare void of life. Even those who approached you often simply waved from a distance to avoid you.

How dare that stupid man practically beg you to hang out with him outside of your normal schedule just to disappear!! To the point you simply believed you imagined him all together. Did you? You're too scared to ask. Maybe you have finally lost your mind completely.

“Usual today love?” The bartender won’t look you in the eyes. You nod and run your hands along the bar counter to feel something solid. The conversations around you mix together causing a chaotic buzz.

You bring the cold glass to your lips and taste nothing. Damn him for introducing you to an immaculate whiskey. But you drank it with no complaints, your mind elsewhere.

Your coworker bombarded you with questions when you had returned to work and you smiled stupidly at them. You were genuinely happy you made a connection with someone. Even if it was also terrifying.

Then you don’t see him at the bar and receive no texts. A pit formed in your stomach. At first worry, then anger, and then nothingness, you stayed in that feeling. All of this warranting your fear, you knew better than this.

“You are an asshole!” The bartender suddenly berates someone who has walked up to the bar. “It’s been weeks you fucker! I should kick you out.”

“Such hostility…” That deep hypnotic voice. You grit your teeth and refuse to look at him. “You should work on your customer service lovely.” No remorse and all confidence. You laugh to yourself, how dare you think you mattered? Especially to someone like him, he must toy with people for fun.

“You piece of…” The woman growls but you interrupt her war path.

“Can I have another?” You mutter avoiding even seeing his shadow, you glance directly in her eyes. You watch as her expression softens and she nods.

You feel him slide closer, his shoulder almost touching your own. Yet he makes no attempt to acknowledge you. “Just bring a glass.” He says to the woman. She sets down a glass with ice and those large hands pour whiskey, you recognize the bottle.

“I had a business trip. Last minute.” He whispers directly into your ear. Your body no longer responds, no tingle down your spine. You lift the glass and hum at the taste. “Look at me.” He orders and you laugh harshly.

“I see you still have your fingers.” You say coldly and he tops off your drink. “A text takes two seconds. I should know it’s my main means of communication. I think you're scared of me.”

He chuckles cruelty laced within, “Sweetie, you are so funny. I had some issues to take care of. I was very busy.” That nonchalant tone made the anger return to you, your heart pumping it through your veins full speed.

“Bullshit!” You shout and turn towards him. He grins at your aggression and you dig your fingers into your palm. “I know your weakness. I’ve seen you weak. That scares you.” You challenge and his gaze lowers, he frowns.

“I didn’t realize you were so easily attached.” He sneers and you scoff. You snatch the bottle from his grasp and take a sip directly. Both of you stare at each other, refusing to look away first. “Was I your only friend? A bit pathetic.”

“Insults no longer hurt me. What do you want? Why come back at all?” You ask leaning up to take up more space. He looks as if he is snarling, both of you heated. Does he regret meeting you?

“I like this bar. Do you own it or something?” He growls and you tense up at his hostility. A staring match of rage ensues. He sighs after a while and his hand rubs down his face, “I’m sorry…” He looks confused by his sudden apology as if he had never spoken one aloud before.

When he opens his eyes to look at you again they are full of remorse. “I did run but I also did really have business to handle. It was kind of the perfect excuse. I did not plan on coming back but my feet carried me here on their own.”

“I get that. It’s like this bar has a magnetic pull when you feel at your lowest.” You say gently and nod. “It’s fine.” You were used to accepting apologies but that was also when you built your defenses. You felt your barriers reinforce themselves, clanking together with a solid force.

“It wasn’t the bar Y/N.” He says your name with a mix of endearment and bitterness. “Do you not realize how special you are to those around you? Are you really that blind?”

Your heart quickens and you curse. Within the seconds it took to build the wall this man crashes it down with little effort. “You look like you want to punch me in the face.” He laughs and you nod. “I’d let you… if it would help.”

You feel your lips curve up into a smile. “I’m not really a fighter.” You say and he grins. The bartender saunters over, looking at you to make sure you were ok. “Thanks…” you whisper and she gives you a thumbs up.

“If she doesn’t do it I would gladly sub in.” She says flicking his forehead unafraid. Sylus glares at her but then hears you laugh loudly, grabbing your sides, and quickly calms down. “Don’t fuck this up.” You hear her whisper and he nods.

“Boxing is a great way to relieve stress. I own a gym. Why not give it a try?” He continues to try and persuade you. Pouring more whiskey into your glass.

“Fine…” You agree, realizing you missed him more than you should have. Scared that if you didn’t take this opportunity he may slip away again. He pats your shoulder and whispers he will text you the information.

“Sylus…” you call out to him and his teasing expression falters at your somber tone. “Don’t run from me again. I am scared of who I will become if you do.” Your voice shakes and he takes your hand squeezing it.

Sylus nods, “I promise and I don’t break promises.” You want to believe him. But the week of numbness made you skeptical. Yet you also squeeze his hand. “This will be fun!” He proclaims falling back into his usual confident nature within seconds.

[superbat-lmao]

Scene 5

Robin sees two shady figures on a roof. They aren’t speaking, but they move in perfect timing. Handing each other items out of bags, dodging playful swipes. It’s clear they’re surveilling someone/something but not who they work for. Most goons are pretty obvious, these guys are non descript but don’t signal like league. Robin starts to tail them and see what he can get.

Jason is secretly laughing at Tim because he can tell the kid wants to fanboy so hard at getting to see the original robin in action but knows he can’t say anything to him. It’s why they went silent once they spotted him. They’d have left altogether if the lead they were following wasn’t at the top of their list. So now they’re stuck with the kid until his shadow shows up and they’re distracted long enough to make a break for it. Until then Jason keeps huffing a laugh for every one of Tim’s sighs in frustration. Batman, and his non-civilian associates, are to be avoided at all costs. Basically anyone with the training to recognize their training. They have to be careful how they disguise themselves because they don’t want to give off league vibes but also don’t want Batman to assume any one criminal center of activity has two, new, major league players at their disposal. It would increase their threat level by a wide margin, so they’re mostly sticking to uninteresting moves and silence. Things that used to bore Dick to tears when he had recon shifts.

It took them longer than they wanted to admit that Dick was so easy to spot because he didn’t want them to notice Batgirl. But then Jason really had to stop Tim from giving himself away because the absolute joy that passed over him and then immediate frustration at not getting to see them in action, to test himself against them, was palpable.

When their target moved, they moved. It wasn’t simple recon, so Jason and Tim took different routes and convened in an agreed upon spot. It went flawlessly, both of them getting the intel they were looking for.

When they turned around, they were face to face with Robin and Batgirl. They smiled under their masks.

”Who do you work for?”

Robin’s question went unanswered.

(Need to add more chatter from Robin/Batgirl)

Tim got his way, in the end. The fight against Robin and Batgirl was fun, in its own way. It was interesting to see Dick’s moves in action before they were all polished. When he used certain combos that he’d changed as he got older or added in some flair in his flips. The fact that Tim could counter all his moves was throwing him off.

Jason’s fight against Batgirl was going similarly. He was having the time of his life seeing Babs in action, but clearly knew her skill set and its counters. It was oddly nostalgic.

They didn’t incapacitate them, but did restrain them, only after being sure Dick has triggered his emergency beacon.

“Seriously, who are you guys?”

Jason snorted before cocking his head at Tim. Tim titled his head back before giving a small nod.

”Look. It was a good fight. You clearly need to work on (chaining one move instead of a different one) and Batgirl, you did excellent though if you (other minor form correction) you’d have an easier time switching between moves. Your babysitter will be here soon, so we’ve gotta bounce, but really, thanks for the opportunity. Don’t forget the samples.”

The last comment was to Tim, who leaned over and disabled some of the security measures on their costumes in order to retrieve hair samples the vigilantes and tried to stealthily conceal. There was a tone shift then, at how easily the unknowns accessed their suits.

It went from playing up their struggling for info gathering into tense, considering silence.

”How did you know how to access Robin’s suit?”

Batgirl has always been talented at maintaining an even tone in tense situations. It’s what made her excel at bing Oracle.

”Lucky guess.”

Then, between one blink and the next, the pair bolted off the roof, dropping down to street level and taking off. It would be bad to showcase their grappling skills, especially after the familiarity with the suit.

Batman appeared 3 minutes later, releasing the vigilantes from their bindings.

Robin explained everything, including about his gear being compromised.

Batman told him to hand it over for inspection and found another flash drive in its pocket.

Making it the third unexplained drive. And officially tying the two spotted tonight to his newest foster children.

Outtakes below!

“Yeah but you got to fight the both of them!”

“Which is exactly why we can’t engineer more situations like that!”

“Oh fuck you.”

“Look, I already took care of the Joker, you’ll have a chance to fight Batgirl some other time. For now just be happy you got to fight Robin.”

“Did you see their costumes?”

“Glorified lycra. Seriously, what was B thinking? They look more like a high school costume department than vigilantes.”

“Oh and you would know, huh?”

“Screw you kid, I died before getting to participate in my high school play.”

“I am not a kid! And yeah yeah, join a community college this time around and go live it up. Seriously though, should we be including fabric information on the flash drives? I don’t know how they’re running around like that.”

“Well the real answer is that they didn’t keep running around like that. They got hurt a lot and B tried to bench them. I don’t know if we want to tip our hands even more about their suit constructions. But I also don’t want them to get shot. Jesus, there is no padding in any of that!”

“I think it’s better they’re safe than giving hints about ourselves.”

“You say that now, but wait until we have Big Blue on our doorstep.”

“I have contingencies for that.”

“Speaking of, how is the clone front looking?”

“What?”

“That friend of yours? I was kinda fucked up for a while there but I know you’ve got info on Luthor. How long do you have to wait for him?”

“A few years.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. I will need your help with some of the security for that one.”

“Hacking is more your area.”

“I meant leveling what’s left of it afterwards so it can’t be reconstructed.”

“Now that’s more my speed.”

Tim and Jason AU

Scene 1

Jason makes it look like he’s doing something shady on a nearby roof, something that Tim thinks the Bats would want to hear about. And only Tim notices. He wants to be useful.

He starts to follow Jason and there are some mechanical closets on the top of the roof, and Jason is being very obvious in his direction, so when Tim turns a corner he isn’t expecting Jason to be behind him suddenly.

He’s not dressed in any sort of identifiable style, definitely not League or gang affiliated and not a mask. Tim doesn’t scream and Jason picks him up by his jacket and shakes him in minor frustration.

“I swear you had better instincts than this. Seriously kid, tell me you’re not this reckless. I’m surprised the Bats haven’t already had to clean you off pavement.”

“What are you doing up here?”

“Bzzt, wrong question. Actually, no questions, you shouldn’t be up here and following a shady guy in the dark.”

“What’s the right question?”

“What am I gonna do with you?”

Tim freezes, maybe sinking in a bit how stupid that was but the guys seems to be asking himself more than telling Tim that was the question.

“That’s the right question?”

“What? Yes, if your cover’s blown it’s important to assess how you’ll be appraised and know what the person will do with you. Also called a secondary cover or ploy. Always make sure you have a plausible reason for where being somewhere you shouldn’t be. And if you can’t, have a quick escape.”

“Why would you tell me that?”

“Second tip kid, the questions you ask a suspect inform on what information you have. Don’t get too close to the topic you’re most interested in or you’ll give yourself away.”

“A suspect?”

“How else would you describe me?”

The guy’s grip changes and Tim feels something sharp prick his neck. He feels true panic and hears vaguely, “control your response next time because adrenaline makes your heart spread a sedative in your blood stream faster if you’re panicked. You’ll thank me later, kid.”

When Tim wakes up, it’s to two gloved fingers pressed beneath his jaw. Checking his pulse He can’t get his eyes open yet, but he can hear voices.

(Jason tied Tim up, lit the batsignal, and left a flash drive pinned to Tim’s chest. It explains his home situation, how long he’s been following the Bats, and that he knows their identities.)

*Scenes from a fic I’ll probably never write. Mostly just notes app things. Outtakes below the cut.

“Seriously?! The Batsignal?!

“It was that or leave you in the cave for Alfred, and the Batsignal was less confrontational.”

“And lazy, what, you couldn’t wipe the feed?”

“I can wipe the batcomputer faster than you, I’ve been hiding shit from Bruce since before you were in spandex. But tipping our hand that early? You’re not usually this stupid, Timmy.”

“Just shocked by your self control by not picking the most nuclear option.”

“The most nuclear option would have been holding you hostage and having a good ol’ fashioned stand off with the Bat. Maybe mail him your spleen as motivation.”

“Fuck you. I already took care of Ra’s - he’ll keep his spleen this time.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

[helpmeimblorboing]

It’s Gorgug. Keep going

[autailome]

-The Lord of the Rings, J.R.R. Tolkien

[imagymnasia]

personal yelling below the cut, feel free to keep scrolling. I just need to be sappy and hopeful for like two seconds before The Despair tries to take me again.

So first, some context I guess.

I've always loved books; always been a storyteller. And when I realized that writing was something anyone could do, the entire world opened up. (Shout out to my 2nd grade teacher, Mrs. Nutzman. I owe you my life.) And for a long while I wrote for the joy of it, you know? Just because I could. Just because I had stories that needed to be told. Sometimes the story was profound or about processing deep emotion, and sometimes it was making a self-insert OC and kissing your childhood cartoon crush.

You know. Like you do.

And then I graduated and went to college and learned about the world and (for a multitude of reasons that would take me a book to explain fully) I gave up. I lost it. My muse, my motivation, my spark, whatever you want to call it. It was just gone. I stopped writing, I hit the wall, and all that shiny-eyed wonder and joy and purpose simply vanished.

Years pass. I try again, sometimes, but it never sticks. I can't recapture what I had, but neither can I make it anew. I try again. I fail. I try agan, but with less optimism. I fail.

I stop trying.

Fast forward to the pandemic, and discovering a fandom that inspired me so much I started writing fanfic again. I hadn't written fanfic in 20+ years. Hell, I'd barely written ANYTHING since the early 2000s. And it feels good! I'm on a roll. I join zines, I slap stuff on AO3, I trade headcanons with my buddies. It was great! But it wasn't enough. People leave. Fandom fizzles. ButI keep trying.

And I burn out. Again. And I quit. AGAIN.

Then FFXIV took hold of me and I give it one last shot. Just a little; just a TASTE. It's not even writing, I tell myself, as I give my character backstory and watch as she slays gods and falls in love. It's just for me and like one other person, anyway. (Hi, Haj! You are the Newt to my Herman, the Sain to my Kent, and I forever adore you.)

And it's fine. At this point in my story, I'd given up on Writing, but I could play in my little sandbox. Whatever dregs of happiness I could find in my pretend world were enough. Honestly, I was just happy to be imagining again.

And THEN I found more XIV fans, and god help me but they cared? About my character? About her story? About ME? And the fans became friends. And then we started writing together. And then we made a small writing group together. And somehow in the two decades since I decided I was going to Be a Writer I was actually for-real writing again.

So here we are at present day and we're trading fics and talking about poetry and doing writing challenges and sharing prompts and building resources and ??????

[The writer pauses here because she is once again overcome with emotion because the profundity of what is happening hits her all over again.]

...

You know, I was trying to be witty and articulate about this but I just gotta say it: I'm so happy.

I'm so fucking happy it hurts, because this is all I've ever wanted. All I have ever truly wanted was to find a group of friends who love this as much as I do. Who want to write, who want to create, who care what other folks are doing and working on and creating, who cheer for each other and lift up the things we make and say This is Good. This Matters.

Not all of us want to be capital-w Writers (in fact I may be the only one? One of two? I don't know and I haven't asked and that's on me) but the fact that we all came together because this thing that brings me, personally, so much joy ALSO does that for the rest of us? It gives me hope. It is inspiring and beautiful and I am not at all exaggerating when I say that sometimes I am so overwhelmed with emotion just because our little writing corner exists that it brings me to tears.

I'm crying right now.

Community matters. Art matters. And for the first time in my life those two things have finally intersected in this wonderful awkward beautiful messy imperfect incredible space, with people I care about and trust with my whole heart, and I am so

fucking

happy

that I truly do not have the proper words to convey what it means to me.

I feel like I've found a little piece of myself again, a piece I have long neglected and ignored and told it didn't matter---all because it only ever mattered to me, and that just wasn't enough. Dreams long since dead are rising up again; for they were never dead actually, they were just sleeping and now that season is over and it's time to grow again.

So while I'm processing a lot of Big Dark Scary Things right now, I am also thinking of the Good, and holding to hope and defiance and beauty in the face of all that. And I'm going to keep creating, because to do otherwise would be to turn my back on the things that make me, me; to give up is to let Big Dark Scary win, and I refuse to let it take these things from me again.

I don't really know how to end this so I guess I'll just say it's really nice to have direction again, and to have people to share it with. I don't talk about this stuff irl and there are a myriad reasons why that I won't get into.

So. I guess if you're in the group and you've read this then thank you.

It feels weird to thank people for this but I'm truly grateful to each and every one of you. Thanks for being a bright spot in a dark world and giving me a place to actually, fearlessly, be my fucking self. It may seem like a small inconsequential thing but I promise you, it's not.

That's all.

I'm going to go have another cry and eat snacks, now.... and then? Then I will write.

Ioj out.

[aria0fgold]

It's 1: 30 am and I'm dealing with rat problems, goodness gracious. My life quality would greatly increase if my mom could just FIND A WAY TO GET RID OF THIS THING ALREADY!

[cockinator3000]

hey! what does it mean if sometimes when youre trying to fall asleep you keep seeing and hearing things that feel pretty real and most of the time the things in question are just reall scary nightmares but im likee half awake and conscious but also not like if i fall asleep theyll fucking get me and im sitting there thinking what the fuck are you talking ab but every time i close my eyes the if i fall asleep theyll fucking get me thougjts overtake me and suddenly i start hearing little girls saying some sort of variation of "im gonna get youuu 😝👻😝👻👻👻😝😝😝" and then i start jerking my body to wake up because for whatever reason i get PARALYSED??? when the visions come to me???? anyway so i start jerking my body so that they dont get me and then i realise that whatever the hell just happened was just a dream and then i try to fall asleep but it happens AGAIN and i cant fawking sleep unless i do something else first. lile what im doing now. everything that i typed JUST happened and im typing this out to get it ouf of my system in hopes of proper sleep.

the other time this happened some disembodied lady head with a kind of warped oni mask was saying the exact same thing those damn little girls were saying

saying some "im gonna get youuuu😝😝😝👻👻👻👻" shit fuck offff pleaaasseeee 😭😭😭

.....ive been awake since 5 a.m and its 7:30 am now