#I MUST SEE HIM AS THE PHANTOM AGAIN PLS

[beneddiected]

Phantom Tumblr I am sincerely BEGGING for a boot for when he returns 🥺 I don’t care if it’s audio or video, audio is good but video is even better but I’ll be happy with just an audio 🥲 I literally have college on the OTHER side of the globe all the while Earl is returning as the Phantom I simply must witness it he’s like one my favorite Eriks ever 😭

[citrus-writing]

noncon pussy eating phantom troupe ( + Hisoka if its possible) headcanons pls🫦

Thank you so much for asking! i'm so surprised so many people were interested in this!

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yanderes who eat their darling out for their own pleasure, they cant get enough of their beloved darling, want to taste you all the time- 

Chrollo- 

Chrollo is obsessed with you, and of course, the faces and sounds you make for him when he kneels between your legs are no exception. He’s devoted to the task, almost worshiping you with his tongue and lips, determined to hear every little sound he can pull from your lips.

For a long while in your captivity in his home, he fantasizes about how you must taste, what faces you’d make, the little noises he’s so sure you’d make- but he leaves it a fantasy, because he doesn't want to scare you away. You’re inching closer to him with time, and he’s sure that if you knew the kind of things he was thinking you’d shrink away from him again, and he can't let that happen. But lately, you’ve been so tempting- wearing the little dresses he picks for you, short enough he can see the underwear he’d picked for you as well if you bent over even slightly. Everything about you makes him crazy, nearly desperate for a taste of what’s between your legs- what he’s sure is the most perfect pussy, made for him, just for him. 

So don't be surprised when he tells you to lie back on the bed and spread your legs- of course he’d taken the evening to soothe you into it. Your favorite food for dinner, your favorite movie on the tv, his arms around you all the while. His lips on yours- till your breathing heavy- his hands moving over your clothes to squeeze and toy with your chest. But it’s not nearly enough.

The look in his eyes tells you that there’s no getting out of this one, so you nervously lie back like he asked. “My love, what did I just ask from you?” he asks, nodding at your closed thighs. You struggle to fight the shame and embarrassment as you open your legs for him. 

He’s so romantic about it, taking his time to kiss and bite up your thighs, hands holding your hips still for him. He pulls your panties off slowly, making you whine in shame, but he’s convinced himself that you’re just as eager as he is. “Good girl.” 

Uvogin-  

Uvogin wastes no time at all in taking what he wants from you, and this is no exception. He’s imagined it so many times, has worked his fantasy over and over in his mind. He lays back on the bed, pulling you over him and manhandling you into the position he wants you in- kneeling over his face, wet folds hovering inches from his mouth. 

“Go ahead, baby, sit on down.” he encourages. His big hands are squeezing at your ass, your thighs, like he’s desperate to just feel you. You hesitate, looking for a way out of this, but of course once he’s made up his mind about something you know there’s no changing his mind. He looks up at you expectantly, “don't make me repeat myself,” and he says it with humor but it sends terror through you. You take a shaky breath and allow yourself to ease down, but it must be too slow for his liking because he grabs you by the hips to force your body down. 

The feeling of his tongue against your folds has you jolting from the shock, and maybe pleasure, but you don't want to admit that to yourself. It’s impossible to ignore how skilled he is with his tongue, something you’ve noticed when he’d kiss you, but something that is uncomfortably obvious right now, with you sat above him like this. He groans against you, the vibrations of his deep voice making you gasp, making you let out a tiny little noise of pleasure. He seems to like the sound, because he grows more eager- pushing his tongue inside you, lapping into you with a kind of hunger you hadn't expected. 

Illumi- 

Illumi isn't sure what about you has him so enamored- your smile? Your laugh? They way your eyes light up when you talk about something you love? He wouldn't be able to answer that if he was asked. But he knows what’s holding his attention right now. He can't pull his eyes away from your sleeping form next to him in the bed, blankets tossed off you and nightgown ridden up to reveal the underwear you're wearing. He’s seen you in less, of course, but something about this is different- you're unaware, completely at ease, all spread out for him to touch. 

He trails a hand down the contour of your waist, fingertips ghosting along the curve of your hip bone, letting himself touch the lace you're wearing. You dont wake up, only moving slightly when he first places his hand on your skin, but you remain peacefully asleep. 

He traces up and down the fabric with his index and middle fingers, teasing you and feeling your underwear grow damp at the sensation. You’re perfect- he tells you so all the time- but you’re absolutely perfect. He lets him dip under the waistline of your underwear, training his fingers down to gather up the slick gathering between your legs. 

You're starting to stir, moving a bit more, mumbling something incoherent. “Darling, go back to sleep.” he soothes. You mumble again, “illumi?” It seems sleep hasn't let go of you just yet, not really awake to realize your situation. When he brushes against your clit, you’re forced awake all at once with a desperate yelp. “Shh, you’re alright. I just want a taste of you.” 

Yanderes who eat out their darling in some kind of deranged attempt to make their darling feel good, to make their darling want them, beg for them- 

Nobunaga- 

Nobunaga is a delusional type of yandere, one who can convince himself that you want him the way he wants you. And he wants you all the time, anyway he can have you.whether it’s pining you down to the bed, forcing you to your knees in front of him, or spreading your legs to touch and taste your most sensitive places, he’s not going to take ‘no’ for an answer.  

Even when you struggle and shake, begging him not to, he just smiles at you with this soft look that makes you sick- he doesn't believe you. And how could he believe you don't want him when his fingers already have you so wet, dripping down his hands and down your thighs. He knows you want him as badly as he wants you, you must, by the way you whimper for him. Maybe someday you’ll be able to admit how badly you need him, but for tonight he won't force you to admit it. “You’re so good for me, aren't you?” he soothes, even as you continue to tremble. 

He pulls your legs further apart and settles his face between them, kissing at your thighs, licking at the slick gathered there. Licking up up up, towards his real prize. You’re all he wants, to touch you, taste you, feel you tremble when you cum from his tongue deep inside you. “I can't wait to taste you.” and, as if to prove his point, he drags the tip of his tongue across your entrance, not quite allowing himself to dip inside. No, he’s going to take his time with you. 

Hisoka- 

He’s always used you however he saw fit, taking anything he desired from you, because you were helpless to whatever he’d do to you. Most nights, that means carrying you to his bedroom- or the nearest surface, if he couldn't wait that long- before pinning you down and having his way with you. Hisoka is never a gentle lover, not even when he taunts you about how much worse he could be, but he does care for your pleasure- even if it’s only for his own satisfaction. 

That’s how you found yourself here, with your legs thrown over his shoulders, his hands keeping your hips still as you tried to fight and thrash. Of all the things he’s done to you, none have been so personal, so vulnerable. 

You want to be quiet so badly, but the way his tongue delves into you makes it difficult, even more so when he moans against you, sending vibrations up your body. It forces a little sound from you- a desperate little cry of pleasure, and no matter how much you don't want to believe it, it’s because it feels good. You don't want to be here- in his arms, in his bed, in his home- but the feeling of his hot mouth on you is so good you feel yourself getting almost lost in it. The sounds you made seem to excite him, and that thought makes you almost sick. He pulls away from you for a moment, looking up into your eyes, “are you enjoying yourself?” he’s taunting you, you know that. Before you can answer, he uses two fingers to spread you open, making you squirm. “Dont lie, darling, i want to hear how good it feels.” 

Phinks- 

Of course you’re scared, he knows that- you’ve made it very apparent, much to his annoyance. But it takes everything in him not to just take what he wants from you. And he could- that’s the thing, he knows he could do anything to you. It’s maddening, trying to coax you into trusting him, into coming nearer to him, into loving him. He promised himself he’d wait, and to be fair, he’s half honest about that. He won't take everything he needs from you, he just needs a taste, that’ll be more than enough. 

You’ve struggled your hardest, twisting around in his grasp for what felt like eternity, and now you’ve worn yourself out. It’d be pitiful if you didn't look so good under him, already out of breath, and finally- finally- plaint under him. He wastes only a second or two looking at your face before his hands move to remove your clothes. It’s agony not to fuck you, it’s all he really wants to do, but he reminds himself that he’d promised himself he’d settle for just the sight of your body and the taste of you. 

You're tense at first, when he pulls down your underwear and leans forward, bringing his face closer to you. You dont beg him not to, and he takes that as some kind of consent, though he’s not quite delusional enough to believe that. He feels you relax as he kisses your thigh, taking a moment to say “that’s right, just relax. I’ve got you.” before finally indulging in you the way he’s wanted to. He hears your breath hitch a little when he kisses just over where you want him. Your hands grip at the sheets, and he can hardly hold back enough to mumble, “I've waited so long for this.” 

Yanderes who eat out their darling as a form of punishment, making you beg and cry as they force you over the edge over and over- 

Feitan- 

Feitan has trouble expressing his feelings and desires for you in a way you can understand, and this is no different. How could he possibly explain to you the way you make him feel? How he has to fight off blushing when you’re close to him, how just the sound of your voice has his heartbeat racing, how just the sight of you in the outfit he picked for you has all the blood in his body racing south. It’s embarrassing- humiliating- and he won't stand for it. So when he sees you bend over in the little skirt, he has to do something about it. 

You yelp as he grabs you, his hand closing around your wrist as he spins you around and slams yur back into the wall. Your head hurts where it hit the plaster, and your wrist hurts where he’s still crushing it in his hand. “You did that on purpose.” he accuses. You don't even know what you did. “Don't move.” he demands, letting go of your wrist to drop to his knees. The action alone is so unlike feitan, it’s unlike him to touch you, and it’s unlike him to kneel in front of you like this. There’s something wrong. 

He reaches up under your skirt to pull your underwear down- he’d gotten a good view of them earlier, but it’s different when he’s taking them off you. Feitan pulls them off you, watching the way you shake slightly, but you don't move- exactly like he asked. 

He’s careful with you, methodical in a way that’s unsettling and foreign. You whimper when he brings his fingers to your folds, as if testing the wetness. He glances up at you, eyes not betraying any emotion. He traces his finger along your entrance, not quite letting his fingers dip inside. You try to keep quiet, try to stay still, but it’s so difficult when you can feel yourself getting wetter as he works at you. “Good.” he appraised.

He’s just as methodical and slow with his tongue when he angles his head to lap at your cunt, his lips sealed against you as he works his tongue into you. If he can make you cum like this, maybe he’ll consider forgiving you for your little stunt earlier. If not, he’ll eat you over and over again until you beg him to stop.

Shalnark- 

He looks up at you from between your legs, eyes shining as he carefully and skillfully swirls his tongue over your clit. Your whole body is trembling from the pleasure he’s giving you, the way he so deftly and methodically takes you apart. Shalnark knows he’s making you feel good, he can feel it in the way you clench around his fingers, the way your slick drips down his hand, the way that you taste so so good. 

He lets out a soft little laugh, his hot breath making you whine, and he pulls his mouth from you. You whimper at the loss, mind too foggy to really think of how you shouldn't want this. But he’s making you feel so good, and you can't deny yourself this- anything he’s willing to give you. 

“You want to cum?” he asks, voice obviously amused. You nod. He twists his wrist just so, making you gasp and arch up against him. “I don't know, you’re not acting like you do.” he taunts. Of course he’d take a moment like this to tease you- shalnark would never miss the opportunity to toy with you. “Maybe if you beg me, I'll consider letting you.” 

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[artists-ally]

{Weather} Reader x Azriel

Hello people! My name is Ally and I am proud to enter the ACOTAR world with a bang. I've been writing for years and years now and thought eh fuck it why not start posting it.

So here I am. 100% not expecting this to go anywhere but if it does, come give me a shout! I'd love to hear what y'all have to say about it or hear your ideas for fic recommendations.

There isn't a whole lot of plot, just a thought that turned into another and I connected them. Enjoy!

Word Count ~ 7,523

Warnings ~ Language, blood, hurt/comfort, fluff, violence/fighting, lets all pretend that you can winnow inside the House of Wind for a sec pls.

Summary ~ You have been encompassed into the Inner Circle after the Spring Court went to shit. During a dry stead between the Queens and Hybern, Azriel was sent on a mission to the Mortal Lands to see what was going on. There is little he can do to hide his rather harsh expedition. Set during ACOWAR, you provide a level of comfort for the shadowsinger that no one else is capable of.

~~~~~

All of us are sitting around the House of Wind, relaxing after another brutal day of training. I had been with Cassian, Mor with Rhysand and Feyre, Amren off doing Amren things. Azriel was… nowhere to be found. 

It’s been a few days since anyone has heard from him. We know he’s been spying in the Queen’s territory, but to not have a check in or for him to not come home to rest for days on end is concerning.

But what makes my gut churn is the smell of blood coming from upstairs. 

Azriel’s blood. 

Rhys and Cass get a whiff of their brothers' carnage and exchange a worried look with me. The three of us winnow up to his room and knock on his door.

“Az?” Cass says softly.

No response.

“Azriel, it’s Rhys, open the door,” Rhysand knocks a little harsher than Cassian had. 

No response. They can hear his labored breathing and groans, and the smell of blood. They didn’t bother to knock a third time. When his door unlocked on a phantom wind, the sight was horrifying. Az peered over his shoulder at the curse coming from Cass, and shook his head.

“I don’t want visitors,” he mumbled, trying to stand, but failing to do so. Rhys and Cassian rushed to his side, helping him sit back down. I remained in the doorway. Staring at his wings.

They were a little mangled to say the least. Cuts and scratches littered the delicate leather, some puncture wounds oozed trickles of blood and puss. 

“What in the name of the Cauldron happened?” Cassian demanded from the shadowsinger. 

“Tree snare, Mortal lands are littered with them,” He groaned. “I’m fine, please just- please leave.”

He never begged quite like that before. The desperation was a foreign thing to his tongue. He tried to straighten his spine, but it did no such thing. He hissed at the jarring of his wings, and settled into the curves of his hunched over position.

He looked awful. 

“Az, we can’t just leave you like this. We can get Madja in here-”

“No,” he plead again, tone more harsh than the last. “No… leave. I don’t want any help.”

Typical of Az to say such a thing. The quiet, reserved male was always so adamant about doing things on his own he forgot that sometimes it’s better to ask for help than to suffer in silence. Especially when it comes to such a delicate and sensitive body part. 

But alas, the two brothers nodded, stepping around the third and heading to the door. I moved out of their way, but not with them. I just continue to stare at his toned, berated back. 

“Yn…” he called out. “Don’t make me beg you too.”

I stiffened. 

I knew how hard this must be for him. To turn down his friends, to turn down aid. I don’t know Azriel very well, not like the others did after spending five centuries with him. But maybe that would… I don’t know

“I won’t say anything,” I promised. “Just let me clean you up, is all I’m asking.”

He sighed heavily, hanging his head in his hands, but he nodded. I quickly shut the door behind me and moved to the bathroom. Under his sink there was a little brown pouch with all kinds of medical supplies. I grabbed some towels and a bowl of hot water appeared by his feet. When I walked back into the main area, he had his chin fastened on his fist, looking out the big window. 

I stood next to him laying the open bag next to him so I could rummage through it. There were some wipes, some bandages and some thick cloth pads. I ripped open as many as I thought I needed and began to apply pressure to the wounds on his arms and shoulders. 

Az held a few while I drenched a cloth with the warm water and began to clean off the dirt and sap. 

He didn’t even seem to breathe, to even blink as I ran the cloth up and down his right arm, ditching it on the floor when it was too dirty to continue. I repeated my steps until the majority of him was clean. The bleeding had stopped for the most part and I applied an adhesive pad to the area to keep it covered. I couldn’t smell any infection on them so it was okay to conceal the wounds. Had there been a sticky, yellow goo then they would need to drain. 

Then I looked at his wings.

They weren’t shredded, but they were not in good condition by any means. They looked so painful.

I silently moved to the opposite side of the bed, kneeling into the mattress and spreading out more supplies.

“I-” he started, “please be gentle…”

“Of course,” I nodded, resting my hand on his shoulder to try and get them to relax. They sagged a bit, but didn’t stay there long. The second my fingers grazed the smooth flesh, he jumped.

“Sorry, sorry,” I mumbled, retracting my hands. “What hurts?”

“No, no it’s not painful, just very sensitive, I’ll try to hold still,” he apologized, displaying his wings, stretching them out all the way as if to brace them against the bed. They were massive. And most of the small cuts and snags littered the top and middle of the span, not towards the bottom. 

“This might sting a little, if it’s too much, tell me, and I’ll stop.”

He nodded, clutching the tops of his knees. His breathing was hard as I dabbed the first cotton ball to the sore area. It had been rubbed raw from Mother knows what. 

There had to be hundreds of them, if not a thousand scrapes and scratches. But they all didn’t need tending to, they would heal just fine. There were a few that I was concerned about and applied something to keep the bacteria from spreading. 

I gently slid my hand to his shoulder, pressing it down from his ear, telling him it was okay, that he was alright. 

He listened, settling down. I knew he must be in a lot of pain. There wasn’t much that I could’ve done beside what I did, but I did as much as I could to ease the tension. I summoned another rag and gently cleaned the skin on his back, wiping the mud baked onto his skin. Az relaxed more at that.

“I know it’s not really my place to ask, but if you would like to share what happened, I will patiently listen, Azriel. If not, I’ll enjoy the silence with you,” I offered, my hands coming to his shoulders, massaging the thick muscle.

He groaned in satisfaction, dipping his head forward and sagging downward. His arms slumped to his side as I drove my knuckle between the fibrous strands. Az ground his teeth, breathing with every knot I worked from his body. I drove my thumb in and around the base of his wings, careful not to brush against them.

Cassian had once told how sensitive Illyrian wings were. Why they were so sensitive. It made my cheeks blush, which I was taunted for endlessly. 

Azriel sucked in a breath.

I had been too busy thinking about all the things Cass and Rhys had teased me with and my thumb slipped, brushing the delicate nerves at the base of his spine. I could see the goosebumps etch his bronze skin. 

“S-Sorry,” I stuttered, fingers trembling, struggling to resume. “Do you need anything else? Can I get you something to drink or eat?”

I stood before he had a chance to say otherwise. I didn’t, truly didn’t, mean to brush over the hyper-sensitive area. 

Azriel just looked up at me with full eyes. They looked like strangers, not the deep, fierce set of hazel that I had come to know. They were like the shadows that whispered in his ear. There hadn’t been a glimpse of them in the hour or so that I’d been here tending to him. It’s as if they’ve vanished. 

His eyes were bright, filled with his pupils in a way that made him seem feline. Like a true predator hunting in the pit of night. 

“I…” Az started, swallowing hard before his eyes darted between mine. “Will you stay? Please?”

He reached his hand to grab mine, and I let him, his warm, scarred hands engulfing mine. I nodded precisely, a smile playing on my lips. He seemed to deflate then, a weight being lifted off his shoulders and he dragged me closer, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his head against my stomach. 

I let my arms fall over his shoulders, the strands of his inky black hair finding its way into my fingers. I tangled it between my digits gently, letting the soft curls form as I brushed them away, repeating the process. 

I had no idea how long we stayed there for, but enough for the once dimly lit room to ignite with fae light as the sun set over the Sidra. 

Azriel began to tug me closer. I had no choice but to crawl into his lap, letting my weight rest over one of his legs as he clung to me. 

I didn’t dare try and break this moment. 

I nestled into the dip between his shoulder and neck, letting my eyes lull shut as his warm body did the same. I let my thumbs brush against the smooth skin on the back of his shoulder, wanting to press a kiss there, but… not my place, I reminded myself. 

I had always cared for the Illyrian more than the others had. Was always the one wondering if what his shadows were whispering were things to him or about him. I knew he had a traumatic pass, and I knew he suffered a great deal during the early years of his immortal life, but things were… they weren’t great, but we were in a lull. With Hybern. Things were stalled so we took this time to cut back.

Not Az. He was always spying somewhere, reporting on new territories siding with us or the King, but nothing more. We all knew he needed a break, but never took one. It was frustrating. 

He shifted on the bed, then I felt a gust of wind encase my body. 

His wings enveloped me entirely.

I had not expected it. I was shocked to say the least. I tensed for a moment, and he must have sensed it because he began to retreat.

“No, no” I said, adjusting myself on his muscular thigh for a moment. “Put them back.”

He answered with the leathery wings covering us completely. I settled into the warmth, the soft scent they admitted. I had never felt so safe in my entire life, so completely safe and comforted. 

I didn’t know a lot about Illyrian tradition since I had been encompassed into the inner circle, but I knew enough that it was a great honor to see a pair of wings up close, let alone touch them. If he had let me do that, gods only knew what this meant.

I felt a tear hit my shirt. I heard him sniffle, then hiccup in a breath.

“Azriel…” I breathed out slowly, gripping him tighter as he clung to me, the sobs wracking through his body. He gasped for a breath every now and then, the tears falling faster with every breath. 

He cried for a long while. I wasn’t even sure if he knew how to do that. To cry, to be vulnerable with anyone. 

“It’s okay, Az, I’m here, I’m right here Az it’s okay,” I soothed, twisting his hair around my fingers once again. His breathing seemed to even out at that, sobs reduced to trickling tears and sniffles. 

I didn’t know what to do. 

I didn’t know what to say.

Thankfully, he spoke. “I don’t know what you did, Yn… but you made the shadows go away. It is so quiet without their roar in my ear. In my bones… everything is silent. There are no whispers, no murmurs of potential threat. It is all quiet.”

My heart thundered in my chest so hard I thought it might break my rib cage. There were no words to describe the feeling in my body. I gripped him even tighter.

His hands stroked up and down my sides, gently nudging me to pull off. I did, meeting his glossy eyes and tear stained cheeks. His hand ever so gently came up to my face, fingers barely touching the surface of my skin as he looked into my eyes. So deep I thought he might see my thoughts. 

“Thank you,” was all he said. I nodded and smiled, tucking the hair behind his ears. “Besides Madja and my own mother, I have never let anyone touch my wings. Not even Rhys or Cassian. They are… my entire world. The most prized possession any Illyrian could hoist. They are my ticket to anywhere in the world and I let you touch them without a second thought.”

My eyes had widened at that. 

“In 500 years,” I gaped, “you’ve never let either of them touch your wings? Once?”

He shook his head, “Never. It is a privilege that few get to experience. Typically just mothers to their newborns, but once you learn to fly, you’re old enough to take care of them on your own. It becomes our responsibility to keep them safe and keep them clean. Of course there may be a medical need, but other than that, they are not to be touched. Only mates have that sacred right.”

My heart clenched. 

I’ve only been a part of this group since the middle of the war. I had left the Spring Court when Feyre had planted those lies. They spread to my territory and we all went our separate way. For the better. I chose to come and fight for what we all knew was right. I can’t say the same for the rest of my family. 

I had managed to hitch a few rides to Summer, right before Adrita was attacked. I fought alongside them, and none of them knew that I was from Spring besides Feyre. She had recognized me for the Tithe. We instantly connected and she offered me sanctuary with them while we fought against Hybern. I had exceptional knowledge of the Spring Court and The Wall, of who was going where and when. 

When we came back to Velaris, I was introduced to Amren, who just briefly looked up from that book, took a sip from a gauntlet, gave me a cold once-over, and went right back to the book. 

Nesta was much the same.

Elain hadn’t said much either, just asked me if I knew anything about the human lands. I was later informed on her betrothed. It made my heart hurt. 

Mor was undoubtedly my best friend. She really helped me get settled here in Velaris. She was the one to pick me up time and time again when I didn’t think I could go on. 

Rhysand was more of a gentleman than anyone painted him to be, especially all those years Under The Mountain. He was not a hostile homicidal maniac like Amarantha had painted for him. He was gentle, and kind, only being capable of those horrible things when he needed to be. 

Cassian was… well, Cassian. Big, strong, charming as ever. Dumber than a pile of rocks but a brute of a man nonetheless. He was my other best friend. My go-to drinking buddy and my favorite person to beat at cards. I would come with him and Nesta to Windhaven. He was not merciful. 

And then there was Azriel. He rarely spoke when he wasn’t prompted. He kept to himself, to those shadows, and wasn’t one for conversation. I had only spoken to him three or four times. Most of them during the war, once during Solstice to give him his gift. It was usually just… so, between us. 

Until now.

Until he let me touch his wings. 

Could it have been a possibility that-

As if he knew what I was thinking, “I didn’t know how to bring it up to you, Yn. I didn’t want to at first, cause I didn’t think you felt anything. Any type of bond. And I certainly didn’t want to bring it up right in the middle of the war, risk death, and then leave you alone forever. I couldn’t bring myself to leave you with that type of pain.”

My eyes stung. My heart thundered. Every fiber in my body became aware of just how close I was to him. I took in a deep breath, eyes blinking rapidly.

“If you… I don’t know if that is what you want,” he hesitated. “If I am what you want, but you are everything I’ve ever needed, Yn. You are the sunshine to my dark and hazy life. The only thing that can make my deep, roaring shadows disappear. Completely. It is calm and utterly silent when you are near. And when I get to hold you… Cauldron Yn, it is like a fresh breath of air. Like a torrential rain to my wildfire. It hasn’t been this quiet inside my body since the day I was born.”

There was nothing I could do to stop the tears from flowing. They hit the clothing between us, saturating the fabric and then drying. I didn’t know what to say. And I could tell that was killing him, my silence. He tensed beside me, gripping my arms a little tighter.

“Yn” he breathes, so softly. So gently than anyone ever had. 

I looked into his eyes, finding them to be so much more breathtaking than I did a little while ago.

“I don’t know what to say, Azriel,” I chuckled lightly. “I’m shocked, I just thought that you and Mor…”

“No,” he shook his head adamantly, “Not us. Not ever, I’m afraid. I spent a long time trying to… coax her, but she never budged. I decided I needed to look for someone else. For you.”

I smiled greatly. 

“Stay with me, tonight,” he grabbed both of my hands, placing kisses to each of them before folding them against his heart. “Let me give this to you, slowly, at your own pace. It is yours, Yn. It always has been. Let it be yours, if you choose.”

His eyes, glowing and begging me to say something. When he pressed his lips to my hands, I could feel my chest tighten in a way it hadn’t before, constrict around itself until it let loose and erupted from within. Everything I had hoped for, spent countless hours dreaming of, pestering my mother about stories of when she found out my father was her mate, came true at that moment. 

An unrelenting pull in his direction, a deceptively overwhelming feeling of trust and sureness that seemed to never end crashed through me. It was like I was looking at him for the first time. Like I opened my eyes and the first images I was blessed with seeing were of him, of Azriel, this shadowsinger and spymaster of the Night Court. 

A piece of a puzzle locked into place, one that I hadn’t even known existed yet. And here it was, front and center in my mind, so clear it almost blinded me. 

All I could do was smile. Smile and nod my head as I watched his teeth flash before he wrapped me up in his arms. He giggled, tossing me over his shoulder and rolling me around on his enormous bed. I laughed and laughed, letting him pepper my skin with kisses. 

“You have no idea how long I have waited for this, Yn,” He sighed, propping himself up on one elbow, clutching my fingers in the other. “How long I have needed a mate.”

“I think I might have an idea,” I smiled, tucking some hair behind his ear. He rolled his eyes, scooping me up and laying me on top of his chest.

Cauldron knows how long we stayed like that for, just talking and smiling at each other, kissing every now and then. When I grew too tired to keep my head up, his wings encased me again, that soft, musky scent circling around me. 

“Rest, my Yn,” he whispered, his arms coming around my waist. “We can talk all day tomorrow.”

+++++++

The sun made him look like the most perfect shade of bronze. His dark, inky hair was a mess over his eyes, his tattoos swirling across his shoulders. His wings were still folded around me, keeping my body pressed to his all night long. 

Azriel slept, another thing I wasn’t sure he actually knew how to do. 

I shifted my legs around, detangling them from his. He groaned, but let them go, only tightening his grip around my torso.

“Az,” I whispered, "we need to get up, training is in an hour.”

“Five more minutes,” he grumbled, tucking his head beneath my chin. The hair on his head smelled like the Sidra; salty and lemony. So calming and soothing. I let him, and myself, have a few more minutes, just basking in each other. But I eventually did have to be the fun killer.

“I’m sure Cassian will understand if you don’t want to train today, but I unfortunately don’t have any excuse. I have to get ready and go eat before I go. Let me up, please.”

He let go reluctantly, making a big huff as I climbed away from him.

I laughed, “You know I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

“Yes, but I wanted to spend this morning with you. I want to spend all my time with you.”

My heart swooned. “Come to breakfast with me. Even if you don’t want to train you can still come and watch.”

Azriel rolled his eyes, but followed me nonetheless. I got changed into my fighting leathers, and Az strolled behind me to the dining room. I greeted everyone like I normally would, as did Azriel. They could instantly tell, because he wore a smile on his lips the entire meal, taking up the empty seat next to me, which normally was Mor’s.

When she strolled in, she gave him a high eyebrow and he shrugged. She looked at me and I had to suck my lips into my mouth to keep from cackling out. I mouthed ‘I'll tell you later’.

When I rose from my seat, so did Azriel, following me into the kitchen.

“When will you be back?” He asked softly, cradling me close.

“By noon, Mor and I have some work we need to do at Rita’s,” I responded, falling into his warmth. “Are you going to be alright here?”

He nodded against my shoulder, “I just don’t want you to go, is all. I’m enjoying the peace and quiet.”

My heart sank at that. I was just happy to offer him at least some moments of rest in his utterly chaotic life. If I was able to give him any sort of relief, I’d stop at nothing to make sure that he has access to it whenever he pleases. Who was I to deny him of that?

He stepped away, pressing his lips into my forehead a few times. 

“Have a good training session, please don’t get beat up too bad, I have plans for later,” he smiled, rubbing the sides of my arms.

“Oh?” I tilted my head.

“It’s a surprise, now get going, Cass is waiting for you.”

“Don’t blow a gasket when I come back with bruises from him,” I chuckled. 

He straightened, real concern coming into his eyes. “Maybe I should come-”

“No, no I’ll be okay,” I explained. “Cassian has beat my ass more times than I could count and you were able to hold it in. I’ll be fine, it’s never anything too bad anyway, nothing I can’t handle. I'd really rather not see you bash his face in because he got in a couple of good shots.”

That didn’t make it any better. His grip tightened, his eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched. 

“Hey!” Cassian called from down the hall. “Put your lover's quarrel on hold, we gotta go, Yn. If you’re not out here in 30 seconds I’ll make you go up and down the steps every second you’re late.”

I rolled my eyes, impatient bastard.

“I need to go,” I said, removing his hands from my body. “I will come find you when I’m back. Try and relax, okay? I’ll be fine, you know that.”

He just nods briefly before stepping out of the way to let me pass. He caught my elbow at the last second, kissing me so intensely I thought I might fall over. When he let me go, he was smirking like a cat. 

++++++

The bond must have already been slipping into place because I could feel this agonizing pull back to the House of Wind. But it also felt like he was right here with me. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was spying from the shadows, something for him and I to talk about later.

Cassian and I had gone through our normal workouts, doing footwork drills and some strength training. But of course, even after almost collapsing to the floor himself, he wanted to spar. 

“Can’t we just skip it for today?” I begged, rolling my head to look at him. 

“Nope,” he said with a grin. “You need more practice, and I know it’ll come in handy against Hybern. If you ever find yourself without a weapon, all you’ll have is your fists. And seeing the look on Az’s face will be priceless.”

“You know,” it wasn’t really a question.

“I’ve known before he has,” Cassian huffed. “I pointed it out to him after about three times of you being near him. His shadows always disappeared and I found him staring at you. He didn’t even realize, said that he hadn’t even noticed things were quiet because he was too busy thinking of you.”

My heart lurched in my chest, filling with pride and triumph. “I don’t know what it is that I do.”

“Nothing,” he shrugged. “That is the whole point of being a mate, things just simply work.”

“I have given it a ton of thought in the past, about what it would feel like to have a mate, to have a bond with someone. It’s… so much different than I expected it to be. I miss him so much more than I thought I would. I thought I’d be able to ignore it, but I can’t.”

“Welcome to having a mate,” Cassian snickered, taking up a fighting stance. I followed suit, circling around him and dodging his blows. I wasn’t lucky enough to escape them all, one particularly hard kick sent me to my knees, and then Cassian was on top of me. 

He flatten me like a bug and flipped me on my back. His forearm pressed into my throat, cutting off oxygen. I coughed, blood rushing to my face, my vision darkening. 

“Come on, Yn, what have I taught you to do?” he pressed further into my esophagus. I drove my knee as hard as I could into his crotch, causing him to hiss, loosening his grip, faltering. 

I smacked him as hard as I could in the face, sending him toppling to the ground. It had been hard, harder than I really meant to. I could see his eyes darken as he rose to his feet, really wanting a challenge now. He started to run towards me, and I braced myself for the impact, but it never came. 

I saw a shadow blurr by and Cassian was vaulted 12 feet in the air. He made a dent in the earth as he drove through the soil. In seconds, he was encased in tendril like smoke. One that I recognized all too well.

“Az-”

“I am going to kill you,” the voice was so foreign. Azriel straddled Cassian as he held him up by the collar of his shirt. “How dare you put your hands on my mate.”

I climbed through the ropes of the ring as fast as I could, jumping down and off the platform. I sprinted the distance between us as fast as I could. I screamed his name, but couldn’t hear me over the roar of the shadows. 

Before I could get there, Cassian had thrown him off and was ready to fight. The two went at each other so hard I was genuinely worried that Azriel was going to hurt him. I didn’t know what else to do, so I took off towards the townhouse. 

I barged in the door, huffing puffing, and red faced as the door smacked off the wall. 

“Cauldron alive, Cassian, how many times have I told you not- Yn?” Rhysand’s eyes immediately softened. “Are you alright?” “I was sparring with Cassian and Azriel came out of nowhere,” I rushed, barely able to speak over my labored breathing. “Last night he told me I’m his mate and I think he might actually kill-”

“Oh shit,” Rhys cursed, grabbing my arm and winnowing us both to the sight. They were still scrapping, both bleeding from the face. Azriel looked like an animal, and Cass looked like he was genuinely afraid. I haven’t ever seen him look like this, either of them. 

Rhys threw himself in the middle, trying to get Azriel’s attention. He paid no mind to his High Lord, throwing him off his back as he lunged for Cassian again. I went to step in, to try and get his attention but-

“Yn no,” Rhysand shouted from a few feet away. That caught Azriel’s attention quickly. He looked up from where he had Cassian in a chokehold, eyes locking with mine. In a second, he vanished from Cass and appeared behind me. His arms were strong and tight around my middle. A snarl ripped from his chest as Cassian rose to his shaky feet. 

His shadows encased us, creating a shield. He took staggering steps back, inhaling and exhaling so hard I thought he might pass out. Rhysand moved to check on his brother, Cassian battering him away as he wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

“Azriel,” I said through a hurried breath. “Az it’s me, it’s me.”

He inhaled deep, scenting the air, letting out a deep breath. His grip loosened and he said my name like an old forgotten prayer. 

The shadows vanished immediately, his heavy body leaning against mine. 

“Yn…” he breathed, turning me around. I shrugged his hands off of me, more than pissed at him for barging and attempting to kill his brother. 

“Go inside,” I said, turning away from him. 

“Yn please-” “I don’t wanna hear it from you,” I shouted, eyes blazing. He took a small step back, ears flattening back against his head, wings tucking in tightly to his body. 

“That’s right, shadowsinger, go back-”

“Not another word from you either,” I snarled at Cassian. He, too, jumped in his skin. “You have nothing to brag about either. Don’t you dare put your hands on my mate like that again.”

Silence rippled around us. Rhys lifted his hand, opened his mouth to say something, but the glare I sent him had him scratching the back of his head quickly. 

“I swear to the Mother that if anything happens while I’m with Mor at Rita’s, I’ll kick all of your asses myself. And don’t think for a second that I won’t drag Feyre into this either.”

That was more than enough to get the Illyrians to look the other way, words forgotten in their minds. I turned on my heel and grabbed my water from the corner before stalking off down the street to find Mor. 

++++++

“He just appeared out of thin air?” Mor’s eyes were wide.

I nodded, “It was like he was waiting for something to happen. He would have killed Cassian, I’m sure of it, if Rhys hadn’t been there, and said my name to snap Az out of it.”

“Sounds like someone needs a little time alone with their new mate,” Mor’s eyebrows waggled on her forehead. I smacked her arm and she boomed a laugh. “I’m just suggesting.”

“It hasn’t even been a day since he told me, Mor, and he’s acting like he owns me. Rhys didn’t dare do this with Feyre,” I shook my head. 

“Well,” she countered. “Rhys did almost kill Cassian once.”

“I know, I’ve heard the story a million times,” I sighed. “But that was after the Weaver and all that. They had mated and had time for the bond to be in place. There weren’t any problems until that and Az and I have barely kissed a handful of times. That’s it. How can he be this… territorial?”

“Az is unexplainably protective. Of all of us. Before you came along he was like that with all of us. In a different way, but… he’d never let any of us volunteer before he looked into it or did it himself. It is rooted deep within him, in a way none of us will understand.” “Even so, it doesn’t make it okay for him to do what he did.” “I don’t disagree,” she added, “but just try and understand where he is coming from. Yn, you are the only one who he has come across that can make his head silent. To stop the shadows and the constant whispers. I don’t know about you, but if that were me, I’m sure I’d do everything in my power to make sure nothing ever happens to my peace and quiet.”

+++++

When I came back with More, she bid me good luck before Winnowing herself back down to the Townhouse.

I came to the main dining room, Cassian, Rhysand and Feyre all sitting at the table. 

“Okay, what the hell happened today?” Feyre demanded, noticing the bruises on my neck. 

“I’m surprised you don’t already know,” I snorted, letting down my shields so she could see it all. She flinched slightly when Az landed a particularly brutal blow to Cassian’s face. It sent blood spewing from his mouth.

“Has anyone seen him?” I asked with a sigh. No one answered, but I heard something. I whipped my head from side to side, this deafening roar in my ears. 

“What?” Rhysand asked. 

“You all don’t hear that?” I asked, eyes wide as I searched for the thunderous sound. I listened deeper and deeper, not hearing any words. I suddenly felt a chill in my bones so cold I thought I’d freeze right there. There were so many voices and whispers. 

I looked up to the set of grand stirs and noticed the shadows lurking at the top. 

Azriel… 

I sprinted up the stairs, the tendrils leading me down the hall and to his room. When I opened the door, the room was almost pitch black, shadows swirling around and around like an endless storm over the Sidra. 

I tried to push my way through, but I rebound off of it like a shield. I tried again, screaming his name. He was in the center. And I had no way of getting to him. I began to panic, shouting for him louder and louder.

Nothing, no response from my shadowshinger. I took a deep breath and shoved my body against the wall, bouncing off of it immediately. I slammed hard against the floor, back groaning as I pushed myself to all fours. I tried to crawl, but it was no use, it flung me back and into the hallway where Ryhs, Cassian, and Feyre were all standing, Mor popping up next to her.

“What the fuck-” Mor gasped, seeing it for herself. 

“He’s in there,” I heaved, “Mor I can’t get to him what do I do?”

She was at a loss for words and Rhys slid beside her, taking it all in. He did nothing to hide his wide eyes and frantic look. His own shadows rose and tried to comfort the tempest, but failed. The roar in my ears grew so loud I couldn’t hear whatever Rhysand said to me. I tried to read his lips, follow the bond.

I felt deep inside, it was so cold. If I didn’t know any better I wouldn’t have known anything was there at all. I pulled and pulled and pulled and pulled. I must have screamed because everyone around me flinched. I went slack against the wall and covered my ears, calling out for Azriel. Begging for him to come to me. 

A flicker. I felt a flicker of warmth in my chest. Against my soul, I felt a tug, as if he too was pulling on the same thread that ties us together. I pulled faster and faster until I slammed into something so hard I gasped. 

It was rock solid, something so impenetrable, like magic itself. I beat on it with everything I had, prying at it with my whole being until it began to give away. I tore this wall apart, it grew warmer and warmer-

She doesn’t want a mate, she doesn’t want me…

There is no meaning if I do not have her to protect, she doesn’t want me to protect her.

Useless, dumb, bastard born Illyrian filth.

Rhysand and Cassian should have left you in that acid bath and left you to dissolve into nothing. They should not have saved someone so vain and cowardly.

These were not my thoughts, but they sure felt like it. I looked towards the swirling wind and shadow, finally seeing Azriel at the center, crumbled to the floor, hands over his ears. 

“Azriel,” I shouted. He didn’t move.

“What’s happening?” Rhysand asked, helping me to stand on my feet.

“I-I don’t know I just felt this rush of thoughts and now I can see him but he can’t hear me,” I felt the tears in my eyes. He looked around, as if searching for his own thoughts, but then he stood rigid, throwing a glance at Cassian. They seemed to share a thought before Rhys turned back to me. 

“Speak in your mind,” he said hurriedly. “You have to talk to him in your mind.”

“Wha-”

“Just do it,” he urged, and I turned back to face the raging storm. 

Azriel… I whispered. 

I watched him flinch, hand bracing on the corner of his bed. His eyes and cheeks were wet with tears when they met mine. 

Yn… 

Az you have to take this down so I can get to you, I begged, it’s too strong for me to get through let me in.

He went silent.

Az please let me in. I can make the shadows go away, remember? I can make all of this go away, you just have to calm it down enough for me to get to you.

I can’t.

Why?

I am the shadows, and they are me.

“What is he saying?” Rhysand asked. 

“He just said he can't tame them, that he is the shadows and they are him,” I shook my head, threading my fingers in my hair. “I can help him but I can’t get to him.”

“Do you trust me?” he asked, eyes wary.

“With my life, High Lord,” I said, because it was true. 

He grabbed my hand and the familiar hollowness of winnowing encased me. He tried to drop me right next to Az, but it seemed to be warded. I was instantly flung away from him and hit the wall so hard I saw stars. Feyre came to my side immediately as the bright light in the hallway dimmed. 

I forced myself up and boiled with rage. How dare he, my mate, keep me from him. I trudged forward, a small limp to my gate but I kept on pressing, despite the protests from behind me. I came to the whirling wind and shadow, staring at it. 

I placed my palm against it and closed my eyes. 

I know this is you, shadowsinger. These shadows, this wall… but it is not Azriel, not my mate. He would never keep me away. He’d want me right next to him, holding him as we weather this storm together. I know you are one in the same, and I know I make you go away and you are angry. He is the shadows, and you are him. I am his mate, meaning he is a part of me. I am the sun that casts the shadows you need. I am the maker of your shadows. Without one there cannot be another, without my mate there is no one to harness your strength. Let me in, let me cast the sunshine so that your shadows may sing once again.

There was almost a noise of discontent before the roar in my ear withered away. It disbanded like fog in the early spring mornings. The wind and shadows misted away, the room and hallway no longer swirling in a veil of darkness. 

In the center of the room shook Azriel, arms trembling as he looked around at the sudden brightness. 

I didn’t know I even gave my feet permission to move until I was collapsing into his lap. I hiccuped a sob so hard I thought my lungs burst open. 

Azriel buried his face into my neck, breath just as ragged. I cried uncontrollably, crushing him with my arms, I’m sure. 

I felt warmth and tenderness encase my body. I felt a tap against my shields and I let them down, welcoming Az’s shadows without a second thought. His thoughts became mine, and vice versa. There wasn’t a part of us in that moment that wasn’t connected. Our minds, our hearts, our souls seemed to tangle in each other. 

It must’ve been a long while before we detangled because everyone had left. 

I, begrudgingly, pulled myself from him, sitting up to look at his tear stained face.

“Don’t you dare do something like that ever again,” I breathed, resting my forehead against his. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be that harsh with Cassian-”

“What?” I asked, brows knitting together. “No no no, not that, whatever the hell that shadow wall was.”

“You’re not mad at me for beating the shit out of Cassian?” He asked, equally as confused.

“Well,” I sighed. “I’m not happy about it, but for the love of the Mother if you ever shut me out like that again, when I break through, I will kill you.”

It was a promise so deep even he knew it was true. He just nodded, kissing both of my cheeks before my lips. 

“I’m sorry, Yn,” a tear trickled down my face. “I saw Cassian choking you and on top of you and it blinded me with a rage so unexplainable. I don’t even remember doing it. It was an afterthought by the time I came out of it. And you looked so infuriated at me I just- I panicked. It had been so quiet for a good while it was like I forgot about the shadows entirely and they took over my being. It was so foreign and strange and they rained down upon me with such vengeance-”

“I know, I know,” I said, combing his hair with my fingers. “We… had a talk. We came to an agreement.”

“Agreement? A bargain?” he asked, a little concerned. 

I shook my head, “no, not a bargain. We just saw eye to eye on things. A favor, I guess you could call it.” I let the words I had once spoken filter into his mind. Azriel had this starry look in his eyes when the words were over with. 

“You talked to the shadows…” he said, a smile tugging at the corner of his lip. “H-How did you-”

“Rhys tried to winnow me to you but it must’ve been warded because the next thing that I knew was the wall against my back,” I hissed as his hands crept up my shoulder. His touch was featherlight as he examined, lifting up my shirt to reveal the bruises forming along my spine. 

“Yn… Yn I am so sorry I hurt you…” his eyes feel so dark, I worried for a second that another tempest was coming. 

“No, Azriel look at me,” I grabbed his face between my hands and made him look up at me. “This was not your fault. You and the shadows are not the same thing. You two, like I said, may share the same being, but you are not your shadows. You are Azriel, my Azriel.”

The color came back to his eyes almost instantly. There was a new set of tears in his face as he landed on my chest, arms tightening around my waist. 

“Thank you, Yn… for seeing me, not just the shadows.”

[erenfox]

RANKING SBG SHIPS BECAUSE LOKI GAVE US ALL FREE WILL 🗣🗣🗣🔥🔥🔥

Aidlyn/Ashden: good lord the chemistry. the 'he fell first but she fell harder' trope. the lil gestures by aiden. him annoying tf out of her but also becoming very caring when she's hurt. I'M SO CALM RN GUYS. and the fact that them ending up together is inevitable lmfao XD 9/10

Benlor: FUCKKK IM SERIOUSLY NOT OK THESE TWO ARE JUST SO PURE AND SWEET TO EACH OTHER. ESPECIALLY TAYLOR TOWARDS HIM, cuz he kinda suppresses his feelings and is a sad boi :( dw ben taylor's gonna make you feel happy again fosho lmao 😭 the lil blushing ben always does around taylor! her supporting his ideas even tho they flop! her helping him calm down from barron through music! her always cheering him up whenever he's gloomy! her being the first to thank him for opening up! THEY'RE LITERALLY THE DEFINITION OF SHE FELL FIRST BUT HE FELL HARDER! GOD IM SO NORMAL ABOUT THEM 😭😭😭 10/10

Tylenol/Tylo: i never thought of the prospect of them together, but post tumblr i must say its interesting. not just them being the single ones in the team, but i like the way tyler defended logan against barron, and his general protective aura around logan. but then again tyler was kinda rude to logan in the start. but then again it gives nerd x jock vibes which to me r pretty cool 5/10

Tyden: LMAO the continuous saga of them pissing tf out of each other. it would be fuckin hilarious if they somehow end up together. but apart from the general hilarious bickering, there's not too much to it 5/10

Tayden: goddamn their friendship is so precious!! her painting his nails? her carrying him on his shoulders in dat one artwork?PURE BESTIE VIBES they just match each other's freak lmfao. 8/10

Logden: meh there are not any significant moments between these two. would definitely be cute, but i can't see it happening lol 2/10

Loglor/Taygan: no but why can i actually see this happening lol. the way theyre both so gentle around each other! then the way she was the first to help him when he got slashed by the phantom? and also the way she stood up for him when tyler was being rude? Cute! 6/10

Benlyn: ooh the two quiet people of the gang! they could work out really well bcoz they definitely understand each other's struggles with muteness and phantom hearing respectively. plus that panel of ben braiding ashlyn's hair was so cute lmao :> 7/10

Loglyn: AAA they have sm potential!!! before the events of yk the whole ✨sAvAnNaH✨ mess, i feel like they wouldve been each other's only existing acquaintance they may call friends (ik it's not canon but it's very plausible lol) 6/10

Benlo/Logben: theyd definitely be good together, it's just that my sbg memory is failing to recall any significant moments b/w them ;-; if y'all remember pls do tell 4/10

Tyben: what is with the hernandez siblings always ending up being bens biggest supporters lmao XD it's a cute dynamic honestly 5/10

Taylyn: now this is one freakin adorable ship TvT. the way taylor always had a slight pang of concern for a friendless lonely ashlyn when they were kids? and the way they quite frankly became besties after enduring all the phantom world shit? very sweet lmao 7/10

Tylyn/Ashler: i have been usurped into the tylyn propaganda by @tragedry honestly I DO NOT COMPLAIN. like holy fuck they're so enemies to lovers! them "loathing" each other, fighting for leadership, but then immediately becoming possibly the biggest protectors of each other in times of danger??? extremely wholesome lmao i love them smmm 9/10

SO THE TOP SHIPS ARE:

3. TAYDEN (the crack ship) 😈🔥🥉

2. tie b/w TYLYN and AIDLYN (the wholesome ships) 😌👌🥈

1. BENLOR (THE PUREST SWEETEST MOST ADORABLE GOOFS EVERR I-) 🥺❤🥇

[hellwantfuckme]

Adoration, Adoration towards her.

summary: after a long mission, Azriel passes time with his most precious person.

author's note: kinda nervous, the first time I post here, whoever is reading this, pls have in count English isn't my first language.

Azriel sat in the long, comfortable couch in front of the windows, not releasing his grip on Eclipse, he pushed her until she was seated on his lap. Azriel wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his needy body, craving her warmth or her presence. He buried his face in her neck. The tip of his nose caressed her sensitive skin, inhaling her comforting scent, enough to release the tension in his shoulders.

Shivers ran through Eclipse's bare arms, she was pretty sure that under the nightgown she was wearing, which initially she had only bought to entice Azriel, she had put it on today because she had washed almost all her clothes and had no other options, and the long bath she had taken for almost three hours must have made her incredibly clean compared to Azriel.

His scarred hands, resting on her hips, descended to Eclipse’s buttocks, giving a gentle squeeze, drawing her closer to him if possible. He breathed in her scent, filling his lungs. Eclipse felt phantom caresses on her bare shoulders, as if giving a gentle massage, a greeting. His shadows relaxed in her presence. They extended along her skin, admiring its softness, warmth. Then, they disappeared, as if their purpose had been to appreciate her for a moment, to greet her after weeks without seeing her, even when someone else had sneaked to make sure she was safe and sound.

A smile pulled on Eclipse's lips, extending them until her dimples showed. She sank her fingers into Azriel's dark hair, the tips of her blue-painted nails lightly grazed his scalp. Azriel buried his face even deeper into Eclipse's neck, his lips sweeping over her skin.

She didn't dare to ask, to say a word about the dirt covering Azriel, the blood. She simply rested her head on Azriel’s, never stopping to stroke his hair while the only illumination they had was from the stars of Velaris, as bright as ever, providing just enough clarity. Any tension that Azriel had slowly dissipated.

Eclipse was pretty sure Azriel had his eyes closed, she closed hers as well. She had been cold when she had come out from the warm blankets to greet Azriel, with the sharp excitement of seeing him again making her heart beat like crazy, but now with him as her own source of warmth, she no longer felt chilled.

After some time, Azriel seemed to recompose himself enough to pull his face from the lovely hideaway that was Eclipse's neck.

Azriel looked at her, his hazel eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness, tired and somewhat sunken. Eclipse always felt exposed under his gaze, so deep that she wouldn't be surprised if he could see her entirely. Her thoughts and fears and see her for who she was, not as others expected her to be. The slightly scatter-brained but tremendously intelligent girl she was. She could spend hours talking about the most boring mathematical theory, though if it was Eclipse talking, Azriel would listen as if nothing else in the world mattered, and she was also capable of putting all her pajamas in the wash forgetting that she would need to use one. As Azriel assumed had happened, because she didn't seem to have been expecting him in that way.

Azriel blinked, and then almost amusedly looked at Eclipse's pajamas before looking back into her brown eyes with a raised eyebrow.

Eclipse smiled a little, her cheeks starting to color.

"Laundry day," she said, as an explanation.

Azriel nodded, he already knew.

"You could have taken some of my clothes. I don't mind you doing that," Azriel informed her.

He didn't mind seeing her in his clothes at all, the gods knew how possessive that made him. Although he wouldn't admit it out loud.

Eclipse shrugged.

"I didn't know you'd be back, and I figured if I wore your clothes, I'd miss you even more, no matter how long you'd be out there," Eclipse said, without breaking eye contact with Azriel.

Azriel could easily read the honesty in Eclipse's eyes, the way she slightly lowered her gaze. She really had missed him.

He had missed her too. So much so that he had to remind himself several times, more times than would be prudent, to focus on getting back to her as soon as he could. With the loving arms that would welcome him, even if he were dirty from head to toe or soaked in blood.

Azriel placed his hand on Eclipse's cheek, he didn't miss the way her head tilted a little at his warm touch. At the same time, she didn't miss how Azriel's gaze wandered for a fraction of a second to his own hands, filled with brutal scars compared to Eclipse's smooth olive skin. He seemed to tuck that insecurity away, leaving it for another time, because when he looked at her again, Eclipse could only find adoration.

Adoration towards her. Eclipse was sure she knew many people who loved her very much, enough to risk things for her. She was not oblivious to love, but it was the way Azriel looked at her that made her knees weak and her soul pliable.

And she didn't know, she wasn't sure, who had kissed the other. But at one moment, her lips were against Azriel's.

Her heart quickened a bit. Eclipse ran her hands over Azriel's neck and then her fingers gently tangled in Azriel's hair. She leaned in a bit, deepening the kiss.

Eclipse might have gotten lost in that very moment when Azriel held her tighter, embraced her more firmly. She almost wanted to sigh with pleasure, if that didn't mean leaving those soft lips that kissed her as if she were the only woman worth anything in the world.

She was the only woman worth looking at, touching, or kissing for Azriel.

Azriel pulled away, although Eclipse's lips still followed his in the movement. Eclipse expected to find a bit of that smirking, arrogant smile on his lips, knowing full well the effect he had on her. Eclipse only found relaxed eyes staring at her. So much so that Azriel could have fallen asleep right there, sitting on that couch without taking off his leathers or anything. Regardless of his wings uncomfortably pressed, he hadn't even realized they were like that. There was no part of him that wasn’t engulfed by Eclipse, the essence of Eclipse, the touch of Eclipse, the skin of Eclipse. Since Eclipse's carelessness about her clothes, he had to take a moment to go with her because she had too much clothing, and he knew she wouldn't let Nuala and Cerridwen take her clothes to the room for her.

Azriel wanted to snort, by the gods, what would become of him. He was completely at the mercy of that woman, kneeling before her. Who would have thought that he, infamous and cold as he was known, was there giving everything he was and everything he felt to a woman. Although not just "a" woman. Eclipse.

Eclipse, oblivious to Azriel's line of thought, only blinked and looked at him carefully.

"Do you feel like a bath?" Eclipse asked inquisitively.

It took Azriel a moment to process the words after being lost in his own thoughts. He nodded, but didn't stop embracing her or make any effort to get up.

"Now or tomorrow? Whatever suits you best, Shadowsinger," she joked softly, the corners of her lips curving up, Azriel caught that for a moment.

Azriel loosened his grip so that Eclipse could get out of his lap, stand up, and straighten her blue silk nightgown a bit.

Gods, that nightgown. Azriel couldn't help but let his gaze wander over Eclipse's entire body. From the exposed collarbones, where underneath the right one was the phrase "hell is empty and all the devils are here" written in ink forever, to the generous, quite actually, breasts in each blue lingerie cup, the exact same tone of her siphons, through the rest of the loose blue silk down to the middle of her thighs. His gaze also trailed over her athletic legs.

Eclipse smiled, as if she wanted to make a comment, but simply held out her hand to Azriel.

Azriel took it.

[stillfrownyclownlol]

@moonbiine got me with the Aiden bug

I thought a lot about how to start this and none of them were good so, here's this;

Frowny's Thesis on Aiden Clark having Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) based on the DSM-5 criteria, living with people with BPD (hi dad!), being...me!, and general vibes.

What is BPD?

Borderline Personality Disorder is defined by a prolonged disturbance of function marked by depth and variability of mood, pattern of unstable personal relationships, unstable self-image, marked impulsivity, and other symptoms. They can manifest in very different ways (the way it appears between my dad and my grandma for example is not the same), but generally includes this.

1. Fear of Abandonment

Nobody wants to be left behind, that's a given, but for people with BPD this fear can spiral into a paranoid phobia that impacts all their personal relationships. Because BPD is influenced by environmental factors, this often stems from children being abandoned in their youth (ex. My father was the child of a teen pregnancy and his parents couldn't care for him for the first few years of his life, letting him be raised by his grandparents. I also grew up alternatively without my mom and withouty my dad, and once for a time with neither of them)

It's been shown to us before that Aiden's parents are often absent from the house, for even months at a time. He seems very used to this and it's likely he grew up very isolated or passed around between different relatives. And I do think this shows in his attachment style; he is a very clingy and sort of "decides" to hyperfixate on a certain person (Ash *coughs*) in the hopes that they'll become friends, and he does this very quickly. Already so scared of losing Ash on that roof even tho he's only known her for like 3 months at this point. He really can't bear the thought of her not being with him.

On the subject of Ash he's idolized her sooooo bad she's so screwed. Pls the Angelic lighting filter he puts on her?? SHE CANT SAVE YOU AIDEN. YOU HAVE TO DO IT YOURSELF. (But i get it its hard) Ties back into how people with BPD see the world in strict black and white, he can't see Ash's flaws and that's how he defends her so much, she's literally like a savior to him and here comes the disciple complex.

He's been forced to move so many times, he's probably made friends who just couldn't keep up the effort of maintaining a long distance friendship and ghosted him, or even him doing the opposite, pushing people away just to avoid the sting of abandonment again. They can't hurt you if you hurt them first.

2. Unstable self-image.

He bleaches his hair end of story /j

No but really, tell me Aiden doesn't put up a persona- he's gone through the phases from quiet gifted kid to an impulsive extroverted mischievous mess. Don't you just look at him and feel the self-hatred coming off in waves?? Dyeing his hair, getting contacts, the ever present grin that must be painful at this point, it's like he can't...look at himself. Like he doesn't want to look at himself.

He can't even face his own problems; he literally paints a clown face on himself after dying cuz he doesn't want to process his feelings about it lol 🫠

Like genuinely, how exactly does Aiden want to be perceived? What is the point of this facade? For himself? For other people? I think he's just trying to shut away his past and start fresh without having to confront it, but...when the root is rotten, nothing healthy can grow, so he needs to get to the source of his issues.

3. Anger regulation problems

Unpopular opinion probably but he seems so angry to me. It's definitely WAY more present in the early chapters like when he goes tf off on Tyler, he was barely controlling himself there asdfghjkl- but I think it manifests more in him attacking the phantoms, it's obviously an adrenaline thing for him but I think he's taking out a lot of anger at the same time too. Even if some of this anger is coming from a righteous place; the desire to protect his loved ones (which ties into the abandonment too, you are still abandoned even when it wasn't their choice), because peope with BPD see the world as smth very...dangerous, I guess is the word? Even if maybe that doesn't apply to themselves

(Fastpass spoilers)

He's also not above taking his anger out on humans either considering he was about to take Alex's eyes out with that paintbrush and was gonna choke the life outta them-

(Done.)

4. Consistent feelings of sadness/worthlessness.

5. Self-injury, suicidal behaviour, suicidal ideation.

Aiden do be a sadboi even with all the smiley faces on his clothes. I think this is probably smth that was way worse when he was younger that led to that depression where he was locked in his room eating junk food and disassociating, and while he's probably coping with it differently it's still smth he struggles with. I mean shiiiiiit, because of his impulsiveness he does kinda cause problems but God he feels SOOOO goddamn bad about it lahdlsj, he was so guilty about the Ash situation, he probably beat himself up so much about that-

Emotions are very extreme, it's 'similar' to bipolar disorder with manic and depressive episodes, except they happen at a much quicker scale (in the same day for ex.) which seems to me how Aiden only lets himself experience positive emotions even tho he's in a deeply stressful situation (even tho there's good parts too like his friends) because he just can't handle having to fully experience those negative emotions.

Check, check, check! Aiden has zero self preservation instincts, he throws himself off walls, gets up close and personal with phantoms that could easily kill him, actually didn't give a fuck about dying?? Actually ENJOYED IT? But didn't wanna do it again because his Favourite person was worried about him and the absolute high of that feeling completely beat out anything else?? Okay man, we get it, you're living for somebody else at this point-

People with BPD suffer from chronic feelings of emptiness and pain is the best kind of distraction for Aiden (cue: him slamming his forehead on the table because he's bored)

6. Impulsive behaviors (aka a bunch of shit which can be summed up as addictions)

Well, for starters, he's an absolute adrenaline junkie, because he feels so constantly empty Aiden wants something to make him feel alive. And adrenaline is the flawless, biological, factual answer to this. Ergo all his octane hobbies and impulsive behaviors. Ties back into his obsessiveness, which, don't get me wrong this doesn't make him a bad guy or anything, we all get a little obsessed with things sometimes, that's just things humans do- but when you have bpd, it's very...difficult to just STAY happy, like an addiction, when the high wears off, they're empty again.

Maybe a bit of a stretch, but considering all the Ramen packets in his room when he was younger I wouldn't be surprised if he had some sort of ED or binge eats (Same bestie.)

Also for sure a reckless driver I'm 99% sure he crashed all those go-karts he drived before.

---

I don't really know where I'm going with this. It's hard to live with somebody who has BPD, it's hard to live with it yourself, it's hard to see other people go through it even when it's hurting yourself. I hate pushing people away, but you get so caught up in your own thoughts, and it just...happens...and when it's done...you really regret it, but it's too late...and you just wonder if things are better like this, being alone and not hurting anybody anymore, cuz they're certainly happy on their own

I don't think anybody who has bpd is automatically a bad person, they just have things harder than normal. People with BPD....they can be amazing artists, or good with animals, or really very kind. They have very big hearts, thats why they feel so deeply. And I think Aiden is a good person, because he has so much love to give, but has never been given an outlet to express that properly, but you can see him making great strides in learning how, with the help of his friends 🧡

Might edit this later when I get my thoughts more clear it's midnight here lol

[winterchimez]

Redemption of Love - Chapter 4

SUMMARY: Choi Chanhee—better known as the Phantom of the Opera, has dominated the Paris Opera House with his lifelong partner, Christine Daae, for years. Until one fateful day, an incident forces them to be separated and never to be reunited again.

Decades later, you have begun your journey here at the famous opera house with the help of your fiancé, Lee Sangyeon. After several performances, it was then that you would come face-to-face with the renowned phantom himself, and he is determined to never let you go again, convinced that you were his long-lost partner whom he has not seen in many years.

It is now your choice to make. To give your heart to the once-forgotten phantom? Or to stand firm and marry the love of your life.

PAIRING: phantom of the opera Chanhee x singer f!reader x fiancé Sangyeon

GENRE & WARNINGS: phantom of the opera au, angst, supernatural, thriller, crime, fluff, time travel, reincarnation, major & minor character deaths, otome, pg-13

WORD COUNT: 2,635

A/N: and we're back with the series! im so sorry that it took me forever to update this, but im slowly getting back into it so pls bear with me as updates will be slow 😭 but i promise you she is not forgotten!! 💗

“Say, what makes you so attached to this Opera House?”

The male looked down upon the female lying peacefully in his outstretched arms. As the girl turned to focus all her attention on him, he couldn’t help but smile at the love of his life.

“Well for one, I built this place and have been residing here ever since. My dream and goal was to spread my love for music and performing after all,” he responded before planting a light kiss on the female’s forehead. 

“Was it your dream to ever make it this far? I mean, it has become one of the most famous theatres in Europe at this point.” 

“No, I have not. I am beyond grateful for everything that has happened up till now, and it is also thanks to you that made all of this possible.” 

The female immediately blushed before hiding herself in the crook of the male’s neck. “Stop, you know that’s not true.” 

“But it is,” he chuckled before gently pulling the female away as he locked his eyes with hers again. 

“I love you. Please stay by my side forever.” 

“Likewise. I love you too, Chanhee.” 

Chanhee? Who exactly was that—

“Y/N!!!”

You were returned to reality the moment you arrived in your dressing room. It must have been a long time running through the countless mazes to find your way back to the surface. Just when you thought it would be impossible to find your way back, that vision you just had suddenly flashed across your mind, something you couldn’t explain in words even if you wanted to.

Who exactly were the two people lying down on the field of grass in your vision?

More specifically, who was the man named Chanhee?

Before you could process your thoughts, you were greeted by the sight of your fiancé, who stood with his eyes wide open and jaw ajar, shocked to see you were back just like that. 

Sangyeon immediately pulled you in for an embrace, hugging you tight and making sure not to let you go anytime soon. 

“Where have you been, Y/N? We have been looking for you for two days straight!” 

Two days? You were gone for that long? 

Sure, you were glad to be back with your fiancé, but this time, you must ensure your message got across to Sangyeon. Pushing him away slightly, you grabbed both of his shoulders before staring right into his eyes.

“Sangyeon. Please. You have to believe me this time.” 

It has been several days since you returned to the Opera House, and things have been pretty quiet. Unfortunately, you weren’t able to convince Sangyeon once again even though you managed to recite all of your experiences from the beginning till the end—how a mysterious man emerged from the mirror and took you down into the depths of the underground Opera House, and how there was a maze full of passageways, up to the man’s lair down below. 

You tried your best to voice your concerns to the rest of the cast members of the Opera House, including Avaleigh, but to no avail. Nobody was going to believe your little stories—thinking that you were beyond exhausted to have come up with such hallucinations. 

Because of that, you decided there was no point in trying to prove everything, and you quietly resumed your performance for a couple of weeks. 

Until Madame Indivus finally made her grand return today. 

As all of you were rehearsing for the next show, the doors to the theatre burst open, revealing a rather upset Madame Indivus stomping her feet as she made her way up onto the stage. 

Immediately, she walked right up to you before pointing at you furiously, screaming at the top of her lungs. “What exactly is this mere country girl doing here? This is my show, my role!” 

Flustered, you couldn’t say a word until Mr Arnaud and Mr Arquette had to step in to talk things out with Madame. It was pretty obvious that the whole conversation wasn’t looking that great—it was a rather heated one, to be exact. Mentally, you were already preparing for the worst to happen, and sure enough, it was right for you to do so. 

After that uneventful discussion, both Mr Arnaud and Mr Arquette had no choice but to put you on backstage duty as Madame insisted that she was to have the lead role for the rest of the season and that you were in no way to take a step close to her at all. 

Upset would have been an understatement for you, especially when you have worked so hard to land the lead role yourself for the past few weeks. It was stripped off you almost immediately after you had not been under the spotlight for long. 

Depressed, you acted as if everything was alright as you continued your job backstage, giving the cast as much support as needed. 

At least I am still given a place here at the Opera House.

Little did you know that someone lurking behind the shadows was absolutely furious with the sudden change of plans. He was going to make sure that you got back up on stage, even if he had to choose violence himself. 

The hall was once again filled with way more spectators this time, especially when the infamous Madame Indivus was now back as the lead star of the Opera House. There was no doubt that both Mr Arnaud and Mr Arquette were glad to have her back despite her manipulating the two owners most of the time.

You could only sigh as you arranged the props from backstage, thinking that your little glamorous era had abruptly ended just like that, and you’d never get to be back on stage anymore while Madame Indivius was here.

To make matters worse, Madame Indivus most likely seemed to be about getting her revenge on you since you “stole” her spotlight. Every time she returned backstage, you had to quickly fetch her a glass of water and polish her newly designed shoes for the performance. 

As much as you could defy her, you weren’t ready or wanted her to make a ruckus, which would affect all the crew members. Instead, you brushed it off while the anger within you slowly started to bottle up. 

Avaleigh tried her best to help cheer you up—encouraging you that you’ll just have to wait for the storm to pass, and it’ll be fine. You could only return a weak smile as you knew that she had to look out for you while focusing on her role as a dancer. 

In a blink of an eye, the show had already reached its climax, and Madame Indivus was about to head back out to stand at the centre of the stage to sing her final piece for the night. However, she would only receive countless murmurs instead of a standing ovation with her final performance for the night. 

A horrible and loud croak came out of her mouth instead of her singing the song, ruining the entire piece simultaneously. It was clear that Madame herself was confused with what was happening, but she decided that the show must go on.

In reality, the croaking sound only got worse and louder, and eventually, one of the curtains from the side of the stages came crumbling down and made a loud thump as it fell directly on the stage. 

The murmurs were now slowly turning into screams, and the audience was rightfully starting to panic and ready to leave the hall immediately. 

Madame tried to call them back, but only the croaking sound would emerge from her throat. It was as if her vocal cords had completely betrayed her. Terrified, Madame too ran backstage and straight down the hallway to her dressing room, leaving behind a whole ruckus and chaos to unfold within the Opera House. 

There was no way this could go on, for the Opera House’s reputation could be ruined forever. Just as you were taking in everything unfolding in front of your eyes, you were suddenly tugged on the shoulder by someone before you were dragged out to the stage.

“Child, you listen to me very closely right now. Go out there and give your best performance and stop the chaos,” you said. Turning back, you saw that the voice belonged to Madame Matilda, the one in charge of the dancers. 

“B-But, it’s all a mess right now! I don’t think singing would do-”

“Just listen to me and do it!” Madame Matilda silently screamed before she pushed you right onto the stage, gesturing you to start immediately without wasting another second. 

You weren’t too sure about what to do in the situation you were in—singing when the audience was leaving the hall in a panic state? You have got to be insane for doing that. 

But it seemed as if Madame Matilda was persistent, and she wouldn’t take no for an answer. She continued to wave her hands to cue you to start singing out loud at this moment. 

Taking a deep breath, you mustered up all of your courage and began to sing out loud, hoping that this could calm the audience and all the crew members down. 

Think of me, think of me fondly, when we've said goodbye. Remember me once in a while - please promise me you'll try. When you find that, once again, you long to take your heart back and be free - if you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me

Sure enough, a few audience members turned their heads back towards the stage to see the former star of the Opera House singing with all her heart and soul without having a look of fear in their eyes. 

As you saw that you have captured their attention, you instantly regain the confidence you once had and continue to proceed. More of the audience began to turn their backs and eventually started filling the hall seats again, wanting to witness the sweet, young singer doing their very best to keep the show going. 

You weren’t too sure what was going on. Still, you definitely felt that your voice was getting louder each second and that your angelic voice was becoming a lot more prominent as you went on—turning the frightened look on all of the audience members into a smile. 

Soon enough, you finished the performance without fail and received a standing ovation from the now-filled hall. The audience was clapping harder than they had done in your previous shows and for Madame Indivus’s, making you bow profusely and repeatedly to show your appreciation. 

With that, Mr Arnaud and Mr Arquette immediately went to the front stage to address the complications throughout the show and compensate the audience. Meanwhile, it was your cue to finally step down and head backstage, slowly making your way to your dressing room. 

As you opened the door to your room, your eyes widened at the scene before you. 

The long mirror was being pushed open again, leaving a clear view of the dark alleyway you had once been down there recently. A good amount of smoke came out from the mirror—making the atmosphere feel much more eerie than it already was.

And of course, the man with the mask was back—leaning against your chair with his arms crossed as his eyes fell straight onto you.

“Well, it seemed that Madame Matilda had done the right thing,” the man replied as he finally got up to walk straight towards you, making you retreat quickly and move to the side before he could touch you. 

Instead, he walked behind you and closed the dressing room door, leaving you trapped within the room you had always found to be your safe space. Adrenaline instantly rushed over you, and you quickly took a few steps back until your back hit the wall at the room's corners.

“W-Why are you here…?” You merely let out a squeak instead of asking a proper question. The memories instantly came flooding back when you were essentially captured by this guy and brought down to his lair. 

There was just something about him that made your skin crawl. Was it because of his aura or his demeanour? Or was it because he could enter your dressing room easily from the mirror just like that whenever he wanted to? 

Or rather, because you have once taken off the mask and saw the true horrors behind that shield of his? 

As much as you wanted to scream for help this time and especially call out for your fiancé, you just can’t open your mouth and say the simple word. It was as if this masked man had you under control, and you felt helpless in your situation. 

Slowly, the man was beginning to take a few steps forward, and this time, he was certainly walking straight towards you. It was too late for you to move now since you had been potentially cornered by the time he was merely inches away from you. 

This is the end of me.

You could only keep your eyes shut tightly as you kept muttering those words quietly, thinking that there was no escape and that this was where you would meet your demise. 

Or at least that was what you thought. 

“Christine, please come with me. Let me explain everything that has happened. I do not wish to hurt you,” the man pleaded. 

That came as a shock to you as you opened your eyes to see that he wasn’t the scary, creepy stranger that he was when you first opened the door. Now, there seemed to be sorrow in his eyes, and he slumped down as if he were in defeat. 

You weren’t too sure what to make of the situation, but as long as he wasn’t hurting you nor putting you in grave danger, that was all that mattered right now.

“P-Pardon? I really sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about-” 

“No no, Christine. You don’t understand…” This time, the man grabs both of your hands into his as he begins rubbing them slowly, intertwining his fingers with yours before tilting his head back up to look at you again. 

“Please…come with me…I need to tell you the truth…” It was evident that tears were beginning to well up in his eyes—as if he was going to crumble down anytime soon. 

“P-Promise me that you w-won’t hurt me?” You asked.

“Never Christine…you’re my one and only love…I’ll never hurt you nor cause you any pain…” the man continued and kept addressing you with that unfamiliar name. 

Given that the man had definitely calmed down, you figured that listening to what he had to say wouldn’t hurt, and you gave him a little nod.

Instantly, the man’s eyes lit up, and he made a little jump in the air, making you baffled by the sight that unfolded in front of your eyes. Enthusiastically, he grabbed your wrist and dragged you down back into the dark alleyway, assuring you that you wouldn’t be gone for too long and he was going to bring you back up again once he had cleared the air between you two. 

In return, you silently pulled a few strands of your hair and dropped them into the passageway—just in case anything happened, and that could be a potential clue to your whereabouts, especially for Sangyeon. 

As you both strolled down the passageway and ended up on the boat just like you had before, the masked man gently placed one of his hands on your cheeks and began rubbing them back and forth before he muttered something under his breath. 

“I’ll make you the happiest girl alive again, my love.” 

series masterlist

masterlist

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[olivieblake]

I know it's SO silly to avoid posting spoilers on a fic that was written almost a decade ago but @wonniesverse asked about what happens in chapter 35 or 36 or whatever of Marked (you know the one) and I am putting my answer under the cut!!! it's unfortunately kind of a short answer lol

hi! i am so sorry if i've got the wrong account but i had just recently read the clean and marked dramione series you wrote on ao3, and i was genuinely FLOORED. yep it's me lol this was the first fic i had ever genuinely cried for, the way you expressed hermione's and draco's relationship so well. the fic was written so long ago - in 2016 - and you might have forgotten about it, ahahahah pls but i had one question i simply couldn't ignore for the life of me: when snape used the time turner, he went to another parallel universe, right?

sorry to interrupt you here, but no! he used the time turner to go back in time, within the same universe, in a time loop. as with the events of book 3, there is still only one universe and only one timeline—there are briefly two harrys and two hermiones in the book because they're the ones who used the time-turner, but in this case, only snape went back, so he's the only one who is experiencing both the current timeline and the rewritten past.

so the new universe's hermione and draco could feel the phantom original universe's draco and hermione's experiences, so the original universe must still have been existing and operating alongside the new parallel one, meaning that the original hermione and draco were still there (please correct me if i'm wrong!).

so again, there is only one timeline, but them being able to feel the echoes of other decisions and other lives was meant to be sort of ineffable. magic!!! etc etc

but i was wondering, if that was a separate timeline, what happened to the original universe's draco and hermione if they still existed? i know draco died in the original universe, but i was curious how the original universe's hermione (master of death) lived after that, and if she ever found joy again, or if she only talked to the ghost of draco forever, and i also wonder how theo fared in that original timeline. there are so many other questions i'd like to ask, but i'll keep this as short as i can.

I made a joke in this week's not writing video that the oversaturation of multiverse media has led to some confusion so yeah, the timeline is disrupted and written over, like—oops maybe this is too Aged a reference—but it's like when you record over an existing VHS and the original footage is simply lost. but there is also the concept of a palimpsest, which is what I wanted those echoes of another life to feel like

as for what would have happened if that timeline continued: what the story suggests (the reason snape went back to begin with) is that the timeline is hopeless—draco is dead and can't be resurrected, hermione maybe never moves on, she allows absolute power to corrupt her absolutely. but that was the point of the story, that the pressure point that re-starts the time loop each time is that draco dies and everything goes irreparably wrong from there. you are of course welcome to reimagine something else! but that was the point of writing a story that resets to canon; I was trying to resolve and explain all the places where something doesn't make sense, like whenever an adult makes a terrible and illogical decision

the way that you wrote of hermione's heartbreak truly tore me apart, and i cried unabashedly when i saw draco died. draco loved her so much and she loved him, so to kill one of them would be utter torture, and i hope the original hermione got to find peace or at the very least see draco in the afterlife. theo was so strong too - even though he wished he could be selfish and talk to draco too, he knew he couldn't take even the ghost of draco away from hermione, so he gave up his chance. i cannot even begin to describe how this story broke my heart and mended it again, and i'm happy that at least the hermione and draco in the other parallel universe got their happy ending, but i also worry about the original hermione and draco too. if you've read until here, thank you so so much for just indulging and entertaining this silly question of mine, and i wholly understand if you don't feel like reading this question anymore. nonetheless, regardless of if you read or reply to this message, i just wanted to let you know that this series was truly of the best i have ever read, and i thank you so so much for that. again, if this is the wrong account, i apologize! but the fic was written in 2016, and the author said this was her tumblr account, so i found the best match i could <3

hahahaah it's so funny to me that you would have any doubt that this was me... I still pretty much write endings that people get mad

but thank you so much for caring this much about the story and I'm so glad you enjoyed it!!

[cloneslugs]

brock samson is the most feared man among henchmen and antagonist alike . ruthless killer, preys on fear, does it all with a knife etc etc . yeah he's got the bodyguarding thing in the bag . let's also discuss how he's the best dad-bodyguard in the world . been raising the boys since they were infants w their single father. monthly lice checks on the boys, always on top of making sure they go to bed on time ("get in your PJs and then come say goodnight" in Assassinanny 911), and is just undeniably a part of the family, involved in family plans and etc etc . the fact that the boys have clone backups but he still prioritizes saving them over their dad (Victor. Echo. November.) & otherwise is just very worried about their safety even though he doesnt have to bc of the clones (I Know Why the Caged Bird Kills for ex.) or when he turns on the people who assigned him to bodyguard, his priority isnt about keeping himself safe (when the top assassins in the world are after him) it's all about keeping his family safe (The Family That Slays Together Stays Together (pt1)) OR how he's willing to give up running from the OSI when he realizes that his family cant handle being on the run like he can . and let us discuss in detail sometimes how he gives up his plan to have his family's two enemies (OSI + the Monarch) kill each other once he sees the boys' clones enter the battlefield bc he cant stand to see them or their safety net hurt/gone . there is also of course his confrontation with Phantom Limb in Victor.Echo.November. where, after Brock has fought off the Guild of Calamitous Intent, an organization he has up til now gone out of his way to avoid/stay out of the way from bc he acknowledges them as outside even his league, where he threatens PL if he ever goes after "the Venture family. MY family..." that he wont let him off so easy again . all of this not meant to say that he neglects his employer for their boys, bc he doesnt. bc most of his time is spent with dr venture & following dr venture as needed, worrying about him when he falls down holes (What Goes Down Must Come Up) & tending to him after he has his twin brother tumor removed (getting him soup & fluffing his pillow & carrying him around (Return to Spiderskull Island)) & otherwise just hanging out with him enough to get people to assume they're homosexuals together more so than making gay sex audio roleplays together & raising kids together does

[lets-just-daydream]

Astarion x reader soulmate AU or vampire mates PLS IM BEGGING

I HOPE YOU LIKE! I did have fun writing this 🥹

An AU in which you feel the pain your soulmate feels.

Warnings: mentions of torture, nothing graphic

Astarion was sure of few things in the tragedy that was his life. But the things he was sure of were the things that killed his spirit. Things that quashed his will to live.

After two hundred years, he was sure he would die here, under Cazador's thumb. He wasn't sure when or how, but that would happen.

After two hundred years, he was sure that there were no gods out there who would ever answer him. He stopped praying to them long ago, for they clearly didn't care about creatures like him. Creatures of the night.

After two hundred years, he was sure that he had no soulmate. No partner that was out there waiting for him. Perhaps it was wishful thinking and in fact he hoped he had no soulmate out there, that maybe they were long dead by this point if they were lucky.

He thought it cruel, the way soulmates worked and deigned a guess that Loviatar must have had something to do with the cruel design. A person can feel their soulmate’s pain. How awful. And how truly awful for any person bound to himself or his siblings.

He hadn't felt any phantom pain himself in all his years under Cazador so he remained hopeful that they were already dead. Gods know his soulmate didn't deserve it.

One day, Astarion sat in his dilapidated bunk with the heavy curtains pulled shut and a threadbare blanket over his shoulders as he worked diligently with his needle, repairing his beloved shirt for… well he'd lost count how many times he'd repaired this shirt. That's just the way it was.

As he pulled the white thread through the thinning fabric, he let out a yelp and a strained “fuck!” as he dropped the needle and his hand flew to his foot. His small toe ached as if he'd just dropped something on it or stubbed it. He frowned and looked down at it. It looked fine but gods, the pain was awful.

Any other person would know, would get that feeling that their soulmate had just hurt themselves but the possibility was so far removed from Astarion's mind. He brushed it off with an annoyed huff and picked his needle up again to continue his repairs, the pain eventually fading.

It happened again, a few weeks later. An inexplicable pain that changed the course of his sad existence. It was late, he was out. At the Elfsong Tavern, chatting up some stranger to bring back to Cazador. He wasn't really paying attention to what she was saying, but he feigned interest, nodding where appropriate and throwing in the occasional affirmation as he sipped the goblet of wine paid for by stolen coin he'd lifted from an unsuspecting drunkard.

Astarion shuffled closer to her, wanting to speed this along. His hand came up and pulled her hair back from her ear and whispered.

“What do you say we get out of here and somewhere more quiet…” His voice silken and honey smooth.

Mere words whispered and she was a red, blushing mess. He heard her heartbeat pick up and she nodded, her excitement obvious only to him. He stood from his seat and extended his hand to her and as she reached out to him, an intense pain marred his knee. Astarion doubled over and grasped at his knee, letting out a curse as he pulled his pant leg up to examine whatever injury he'd just sustained.

There was nothing there, his knee smooth and pale, slightly bruised but that wasn't out of the ordinary. He felt like he should be bleeding with a sizeable wound. He whipped his head around to see if anyone had attacked him but no one paid him any mind except his “date.”

Astarion was annoyed and confused. He lowered his pant leg again with a huff and the woman who he didn't bother to learn the name of let out a laugh. “Seems like your soulmate is out there getting into trouble.”

If Astarion had warm blood coursing through his veins, it would have gone cold.

“What?”

The woman stood, grabbing her belongings. “Your soulmate. Obviously hurt their knee since you're in pain but seem fine. Happens to all of us. I'm almost certain my soulmate got their arm chopped off last week based on the pain I felt for days and days.”

She shuddered and grimaced, rubbing her left arm. “You see anyone with a fucked up arm, come find me. Goodnight.”

And then she left. She left him in a stupor and a predicament. Firstly, it was too late to try and seek anyone else out to bring to Cazador tonight. By Astarion's estimations the sun should be rising soon and he needed to get back to the palace. The thought of arriving empty handed caused a familiar panic to rise in him at whatever torture he was certainly due for this day.

But secondly, and possibly worse if he let himself think about it too much… whatever pain he was about to go through would be inflicted onto you. His unsuspecting soulmate. If what that woman said was to be believed, anyway.

Astarion wandered back to the palace in a haze. He ping ponged between self-preservation and not letting himself get worked up over the fact that you were about to be tortured, put through some of the worst pain you could ever endure. He tried not to think about it. Tried not to be weak but he couldn't help the guilt. Even if he did manage to find you, even if you were out there, you could never want him after what you were both about to go through tonight.

Hours later, after Cazador had finished taking his wrath out on Astarion for failing to bring him a victim, he wept. He often wished for death, never prayed but he did this day, with each flog, flay torture, he wept in excess for you.

Pain was… quite normal for you these days and you lived most of your life in fear for when the next bout of pain was going to knock you out for several days. Whoever your soulmate was, whatever life they lead, you felt awful for them. You couldn't help but also feel a little resentment for all the torturous pain you'd been through and when you finally did meet them, you were going to demand some fucking answers. Not only did they seemingly get beaten up everyday, but the constant hunger pains you felt never went away despite how much you ate. Were they starving themselves?

Your whole body ached. You'd been saved from falling to your demise at the very least as the nautiloid ship crashed but gods you’d still had some momentum when you hit the ground.

For now though, you stood and took in your surroundings, dusting your clothes off and squinting as the bright sun beat down on you. You stepped through scraps of metal towards some rocky cliffs and to what looked like a path. You made it through and saw someone, a tall, pale elf standing by the cliffside, examining the damage made by the crash. His hand staked through his hair and he looked around warily until he finally laid eyes on you.

“You there!” He called out. He sounded posh and you internally rolled your eyes. “Can you help me? I have one of those… brain things cornered.”

You walked over to him and peered into the bush where he was pointing and you jumped slightly when a boar ran out from the underbrush. You let out a laugh and sigh of relief and turned back to him but before you knew what was what, a cool knife was pressed against your neck and you fell to the ground, a grunt of pain escaping yours and the elf’s lips.

His arm came around your shoulder and he held you in place as you struggled, looking up at him. “What are you doing?” You cried.

He pressed the dagger against your neck and you felt a nick of pain as he drew blood. You cried out in pain and to your surprise, so did he. You paused, confused. The stranger also paused, his body stiffening and his eyes zeroed in on your neck where his dagger met your skin.

You took this moment to your advantage and rolled out of his arms, making sure to elbow his face in the process. But as the crack of your elbow made contact with his nose, you cried out in pain and grasped at your nose, standing and looking at him in accusation.

He also stood, holding onto his nose and his neck.

He couldn't be.

Neither of you dared say a word as you clutched your faces in pain, staring. Waiting. For what, you weren't sure but the pieces started to fall into place and you slowly stepped towards him. He stiffened and leaned away from you but you grabbed his arm and pinched it, grimacing softly when, yes. You felt the same phantom pain in your own arm on the same spot. You said nothing and only stared into the stranger's red eyes.

He in turn, grabbed your arm and squeezed, stopping when it began to hurt.

This was it. This was him. This was your soulmate.

“No way,” you whispered.

The stranger turned soulmate seemed to be in a similar state of disbelief. “You're… real,” he murmured.

Whether he was pleased or upset, you weren't sure. He kept his feelings quashed. But you felt no desire to do such a thing. You'd often thought about what you would say when you finally met your soulmate and now that you were here, seeing his pale skin, his eyes with accompanying bags to match and his expression that he tried to keep impassive but you could see the fear etched onto his face your rehearsed words failed you.

Instead, you stepped forward and placed your hand on his arm comfortingly. He stiffened at the contact.

“I'm sorry,” is all you managed to whisper, your eyes wide and apologetic.

You didn't need to elaborate, he knew and you knew that he'd been put through shit, you along with him. You didn't resent him like he thought you would, you didn't accuse him or yell at him for what he'd put you through. No. You apologised to him.

He shuddered out a sigh of relief and stared at you, a small smile on his face.

“My name's Astarion.”

[dorimena]

𝖔𝖓 𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖑

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; monoma neito

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱; 1.3k 

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰;   Implied overstimulation, edging, dacryphilia (?), brief drug mention, cursing, dom!reader, sub!character

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰; I tried keeping reader as gender-neutral as possible, Kendo calls, having sex while on a call, whiney Monoma, couch sex, mention of illness, choking (?) aged-up character; although not mentioned, Monoma is in his early 20s

“Oh? I have an incoming call. You wouldn’t mind me receiving this, right? No, of course not. Now shut up.”

All you could hear as a reply was a pitiful whimper from the man below you, body trembling as he tried calming himself down through shut eyes, hand-covered mouth and harsh breathing. Although cute, you wouldn’t call that noise a proper answer.

“Answer me, Neito.”

Oh, how he hates yet loves how you harshly said his name, how you grabbed his jaw with your fingers, how you gripped your phone tighter in your other hand. But, you also completed your sentence, why would you need his input? He doubts he would be able to say -

“No!” Monoma shouted, opening his eyes to bewilderedly look at you while feeling how you quickly lift yourself off his horribly, intensely throbbing dick. Yet, you smiled so sweetly, placing the hand that had his jaw in between your fingers on his mouth, muffling his quiet whines of how unfair you were being, daring to choose a phone call that had stopped ringing seconds ago over your favorite boy in the world, your favorite boy who had gracefully allowed himself to be dommed, as you would put it.

Yet, clearly, if he can still somewhat coherently speak, then you didn’t overstimulate him enough to leave him pretty dumb.

The phone began ringing again, and as you turn to look at the screen, your eyebrows rose upon seeing Kendo’s name glowing. Either something happened, or she’s trying to contact Monoma because something happened.

“Look Neito, your friend is calling. You should stay extra quiet, okay? If you do good, maybe I’ll just let you take control again, yeah?” Oh, Monoma knew he was going to do good; he was already calming down anyways, and even if his dick feels like it’s ready to explode, it’s not too bothersome to render him useless.

Smirking under the two hands, he nodded once and relaxed on the soft cushions of his living room couch as you finally answered the call. It’ll only be a few minutes, right? It’s only Kendo. She gets straight to the point, and all you would have to tell her about his whereabouts is ‘oh, he’s asleep’ or ‘he’s taking a shower.’

But, Kendo decided today would be one of those strange days where she decides to gossip with you about who knows what, all while Monoma tried keeping his impure thoughts down to a minimum, trying not to provoke his dear hardened friend to feel even worse.

If only he had realized he began whining softly an hour into your call.

If only he had realized how you’ve gone quiet as you heard Kendo’s inquisitive question about that noise.

If only he had realized your disappointed look that slowly turned into a satisfied one.

If only he-

“Monoma woke up feeling funny, must be his stomach. You would think him eating such gourmet and organic food wouldn’t cause such an issue. Must be some wine he drank.”

How dare you say that as you shifted from your comfortable position on one of the other couch cushions to slowly sink yourself on his dick again? God, the muffled loud whimper apparently wasn’t muffled enough to ease Kendo’s worry about his condition.

“No, Kendo. It’s alright, you don’t need to come over. I’ll let you know if we need anything, though.”

How dare you say that in such a calm and collected manner, as if you weren’t slowly riding him and purposefully clenching around his sensitive extremity? Are you blind or is it easy to ignore the way his eyes have quickly gotten wet with unshed tears and his breathing picking up faster than before? Here he is, the chivalrous pro-hero Phantom Thief, who could easily bite back at you with your own quirk in the blink of an eye, trembling in pain and pleasure, in desperation and frustration, trying yet failing to keep himself composed and choking on every cute noise you drag out of him.

How daring of you to keep talking to Kendo as he suffers such delicious pleasure, such warm, wet friction, such excruciating pace while having to find himself obligated to keep his whines and whimpers down.

By now, 2 hours have passed since you picked up the call and you keep on riding him ever so slowly, maybe having stopped a couple of times to watch and admire how he slowly begins to break away from his pride and promised domination. Now, shut eyed tears trail down his beautifully reddened cheeks, his own fingers in his mouth as he holds his tongue down, his legs jerking closed every certain interval, his other hand ghosting around your waist and hips as if fighting an internal war of whether or not he should or even if he could touch you.

Now you think you’ve done it. You finally broke down your beautiful boy.

‘I can’t believe he tried keeping quiet.’ You thought adoringly, smiling as you caressed his tear-stained cheeks, feeling the heat that doesn’t seem to cool down from your hands. Kendo’s voice rang in your ear, asking, once again, if Monoma really was okay. Looking at him again, you realized he’s used his free hand to cover his mouth. ‘Oh,’ you raised an eyebrow, ‘he’s being quiet because of Kendo. Shame.’

After assuring Kendo that yes, Monoma isn’t dying from food poisoning, you lift yourself almost completely off of him, just to drop yourself down on him. The reaction was immediate.

“Y-Y/N!” He sobbed silently, hips jerking up into you making you bounce, drool dripping down his chin onto his chest, back arched as he holds back the next sob.

This reaction was so great that you did it once more. Or maybe twice more. No, thrice. Each and every time, you watched how he struggled to not be louder than he was, even taking your own hand and placing it on his mouth as hard as he could as he groaned ever so weakly, his dazed eyes staring at the ceiling, his white pupils dilated to the point he appears to be high off of something.

“Yeah, I think he needs my assistance right now. It was nice speaking with you, keep me up to date with the details!” As Kendo barely said her goodbyes, you hung up, throwing your phone away from you two but still on the couch (Because who would want to be careless and throw it to the floor?)

“My good, good, good boy.” You panted out hotly, face so close that his vision settled onto yours, eyebrows furrowing in a silent plea of mercy. “Maybe you do love being under someone, hm? And here… here I was, offering you to fuck me.”

“Pl-please, please fuck me-e. Please! Please. Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease- it hurts so much.” Monoma sobbed loudly, a new set of fresh tears falling from his periwinkle hues, all while he tried grinding upwards into you, thighs trembling upon how overwhelmingly hurtful his horniness has gotten.

Humming, satisfied with how he reacted, with how he begged all without being told to, you didn’t see why you should continue breaking him further. After all, who said this would be ending soon?

“You came three times already, and here you are begging a fourth? So greedy, Neito. So needy. But alright, I’ll fuck you. As. Hard. As. Possible.” Every punctuation of the previous words had you bouncing as hard as you could on his lap, grinning wickedly as he opened his mouth to moan so ridiculously loud, so ridiculously high pitched; you wondered if he could rival that of some hentai girl.

You’ll make sure to have those sounds keep leaving him, just like his soul as his eyes roll to the back of his head while choking on his spit, and a symphony of moans, whines and whimpers gave away this heavenly pleasure.

[pigeonp0st]

Hey can you do a fic where reader is under mind control of some sort from an enemy and is forced to attack Nat and the rest of the avengers and Nat has to talk her out of it and calm her down something rlly intense and angsty pls

Natasha Romanoff x Reader #6

Words: 2,177

Warnings: Agnst

(tell me if there’s more I should add)

Notes:

I realized after I finished writing that I didn’t have Nat talk R out of it like you asked...I solved it in another way...i’m sorry!! I hope you enjoy anyways, thanks a lot for requesting (and sorry for spelling mistakes...there’s probably a lot) also sorry for this in general...I’m disappointed in it and the ending...I was sleep deprived and delirious for half of it...

———

It was supposed to be a simple mission, and a simple day. You and Nat had planned to head to the beach for the first time in a long time afterwards and everything. It was supposed to be a good day.

Good day...ha.

The sad truth is, is that things don’t always work out the way you expect them to. Sometimes things go horribly wrong.

Sometimes you get mind controlled by the ‘big bad’ and hurt the people you love most. Or maybe that stuff only happened to people like you. ‘Heroes.’

——-

You were conscious. That was the cruel agonizing part of it all. It’s that with every swing of your knife, every landed hit, every plea that fell from their lips, you knew what was happening.

You knew what was happening but could do nothing about it. Well...you could, technically, but it hurt. It hurt to fight. The pain was similar, you imagine, to what it feels like getting burned alive and then ran over eighteen times.

You didn’t think you could do it. Your will power wasn’t that strong. You would probably die trying to gain control—

It hurt. It hurt. You didn’t want to. You couldn’t, you—

Natasha. Natasha was saying; “fight it, Y/N, fight it,” and to you and to the pain that fighting the mind control caused, she may as well have been saying, “die, Y/N, die”

And yeah. Okay. For her, you will. For her you must.

Tears were running down your cheeks, it was the one thing the mind control didn’t have control of. It was...weird. Weird feeling such an immense amount of pain, such an immense amount of suffering, and being unable to show it. Unable to scream. You were silent, but your body felt loud, your head felt loud.

For a long minute you couldn’t hear them, you couldn’t even register the things you were seeing, all you knew was pain, everything outside of that was illegitimate.

Then, silence. For a brief, blissful moment before it was gone again. Nat’s arms were around you, and you were shaking, but completely still otherwise—finally, finally, you weren’t hurting them— “You’re okay,” Nat whispered, and how could that concept, in a few moments of agony, become something so foreign. Have you ever been okay before? Have you ever lived without this much hurt?

———-

“Nat,” you croaked, the words shaking almost as roughly as your body. “Natasha, kill me.”

Those three words, said with an immeasurable amount of desperation, were just as much not your own as your body was at this moment. They were said in a moment of pain.

Somehow, Natasha knew that. She knew that. She knows what you look like when you’re experiencing physical pain. It’s been seared into her mind countless times, but that doesn’t prevent her heart from aching as much as it does when you start begging.

“Natasha please, please baby, please. Somebody, please! Before it—”

And then you were screaming, and Natasha hates how it’s even worse than the begging.

Somehow you’ve managed to gain control of your vocals, but your body isn’t yours again, she realizes it when you start struggling against her arms…it’s a terrible thing to realize.

“Stop,” Nat yells, so obviously terrified and raw that half of the Avengers freeze where they’re circling you. “Stop fighting it, it’s okay, it’s okay.” She holds you as tightly as she can, with her eyes screwed shut. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

And god, she hates the way it sounds like a goodbye too, but she just knows that even if you could register her voice right now, you aren’t going to listen.

You’re going to keep fighting to protect her and the others, because it’s what you’ve always done.

So Natasha takes a deep breath, in and out, and tries to think about her options. She tries to think about her options with you struggling and trying to reach for your knife, and the Avengers circled around her with nothing but ashen expressions that speak of nightmares to come, and she doesn’t know. She just doesn’t know.

There’s no safe way for her to knock you out for a long period of time, not ones that won’t cause long term problems afterwards, but she doesn’t need any because suddenly your body stops struggling, and stops moving, and you’re slumped unconscious in her arms.

It’s a great relief for everyone until Natasha lifts her hand from your pulse, and says, shockingly and terrifyingly devoid of emotion; “I think she’s going into shock.”

——

Everything is a blur to Natasha after that. She recalls yelling, lights, arriving at the hospital, a countdown of; one, two, three, and then she’s sitting in a seat next to your hospital bed wondering when everything went so wrong.

——

All Natasha hears when she closes her eyes is you screaming in agony at the top of her lungs, and all she feels is the phantom touch of your cold ashen skin against her hands.

You’re okay now, Natasha reminds herself. You’re going to be okay, but there’s something deeply traumatizing and everlasting about the moments where you’re sure everything won’t be—the moments you’re almost sure the love of your life won’t be.

Hearing someone you love beg you to kill them, seeing the person you love most in so much agony, it’s...scarring...but Natasha will be strong. She has to be, because being weak hurts too much, but more importantly; you need her to be.

As traumatizing as the experience was for her, she knows that yours was just as bad—if not worse. You were strong for her, so she’ll be for you.

Like protecting her to you seemed like your only option, even while you were hurting so much because of it, it’s Natasha’s only option too.

So she’ll keep it all together, until you’re back to normal and she doesn’t have to anymore.

——-

Natasha startles when you wake up. She physically startles, because the first thing you do is start sobbing, sobbing hard enough to make Natasha concerned that you’ll start hyperventilating.

“Are you okay?” Natasha asks, up from her seat in a flash to be by your side, “is he still mind controlling you? Are you still hurting?”

You aren’t looking at her, Natasha realizes with a large amount of grief. You won’t look at her, but you’re shaking your head no to her questions, and she supposes that perhaps you are okay—physically.

She wants more than that for you, so she sighs, heavily and sadly— because she can’t protect you from this anymore than she was able to protect you from the mind control—and wraps her arms around your distraught form.

“It’s okay,” Nat mumbles, and then winces and corrects herself because it’s so clearly not. “It will be okay.”

That she is sure of, but you aren’t.

“Natasha,” you force out (Natasha tries not to remember the way you said her name yesterday), “You’re covered in- you’re covered in bruises and cuts...baby, i’m so sorry.”

Your voice cracks on sorry, and Natasha closes her eyes to prevent her own tears from falling. “It wasn’t you,” she whispers fiercely, “i’m not mad at you. Of course i’m not.”

“You should be.”

You pull away from her then. Natasha feels the loss in her heart, she’s sure.

All she wants to do is hold you in her arms and never let go, but with the amount of unjustified shame you’re feeling she doubts you’ll let her.

“Your arm,” you stutter, “did it need stitches?”

Natasha won’t lie to you, so she says nothing—instead she tries to meet your haunted eyes. It’s a useless attempt.

She knows what you’re remembering, and she hates it. “The cut on my neck...it wasn’t that deep. It shouldn’t even scar.”

“I didn’t ask you about the cut on your neck, Natasha.”

Natasha tenses where she’s standing, caught off guard by the loathing in your voice until she realizes that it’s not directed at her, but at yourself.

Your eyes finally, finally, meet Natasha’s. They’re tear brimmed, scared, and unbelievably angry. “I’m going to kill him,” you rasp brokenly, “Natasha, i’m going to kill him.”

——-

Nat says nothing. She just continues to stare back at you.

“He had no right, Natasha, he had no right to do that to me,” your face is crumbling now, anger turning back into devastation in an instant. “Nat, why—why was it me? I—god, i’m so angry, i’m so—i’m so sorry. I’m sorry, i’m sorry. God...what did I do?”

Natasha still says nothing, why isn’t she saying anything? You want to yell at her, you want her to yell at you, you want—you want.

“Is Clint...is he okay?” You ask wobbly.

You remember vividly the moment you stabbed him, and the betrayal on his face, the betrayal on everyone’s faces until they realized you weren’t in control of your own body.

“He’s okay,” Natasha says simply. Then, “the man who did what he did to you...Wanda is handling it. She’s able to block out his mind control.”

“Okay.”

“Can I hold you?”

“What?”

Natasha shifts where she stands, looking down. She’s never looked more uncertain. “You didn’t seem to want me close before...I wasn’t sure…”

Oh.

“Nat,” you whisper, heartbroken, “I don’t trust myself. I don’t trust I’m me.”

Natasha tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear and leans down to kiss your temple. You want nothing more than for her to get away from you. You don’t want to hurt her ever again. You can’t. “Oh baby,” she laughs a sad sort of laugh, “you’ve been handcuffed.”

And that, for whatever reason, starts another wave of unreleased tears, but you're laughing now too...if only at the insanity of your situation.

You feel restricted by the handcuffs, trapped in the way you were during the mind control, but you also feel safe. Safe from doing harm, so you allow her, between breaths, to join you on the hospital bed.

She lets out a relieved breath when you do, both because she’s allowed to hold you, and because you’re laughing...yeah it might me a manic sort of laugh, but it’s something.

Something is better than nothing. It’s a start.

——

“Natasha, I can tie my own fucking shoes.”

Nat looks up at you from where she’s crouched by your feet, raising a questioning eyebrow. “Then why’d you ask me to do it?”

“W-What? No I didn’t.” Mind controlled. You were mind controlled again. Fuck—

“Yeah you did,” Natasha reminds gently, “while you were eating your disgusting jello.”

Oh. Yeah.

You release a shaky breath, laughing quietly all the while, because wow. Wow. You’re losing your mind. “I totally remembered that...they just slipped something into my jello…”

Natasha watches you carefully for a few moments before rolling her eyes and getting to her feet. “Tie your own shoes.”

“Asshole,” you mutter bitterly under your breath. Natasha pretends not to hear you and simply presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you,” she confesses quietly. Natasha’s been saying as much over and over again since you first awoke.

“Now I feel like the asshole. Just go get the discharge papers.”

Finally, Natasha laughs.

——-

You’re healing still, emotionally, the Avengers and Natasha are very aware of that. They’ve been as gentle as they can possibly be with you since you left the hospital a couple of weeks ago, but now—now it’s time for an intervention.

So naturally, you press the big red emergency meeting button Steve hides in his room and force everyone to meet in the living room.

“I’m not sad anymore,” You announce to them all when Wanda asks why the fuck she was woken up for.

The grumbling immediately quiets.

“Well,” you pause, considering, “I...am. Deep down. I’m tryna work through it but it’s kinda hard now that I'm forgetting a lot of what happened.”

Natasha sits up at that, alarmed. “You’re forgetting?”

You wave your hand dismissively. “My mind is blocking it out. I’m traumatized...but pretty okay otherwise.” The others don’t look convinced, so with an annoyed groan you relent. “I’m thinking about seeing Steve’s therapist. You guys should too.”

A chorus of protest instantly comes forward, not to your surprise...but Wanda...Wanda does surprise you.

“I am, too.”

Then Natasha, “I...was actually considering it myself.”

Well then.

“I’m also considering making my own sitcom,” Wanda continues, resting her head in her hand. “What do you guys think?”

“Stick to therapy, Wanda. Stick to therapy.”

At that, everyone comes forward in agreement.

You’re sure, in that moment, that with these people you’ll be okay.

[p5headcanonhellhole]

Anonymous said to p5headcanonhellhole                                             

Hey this quarantine has made me touch starved, so I was hoping for some imagines of the phantom thieves with a team mate/future SO that gives the best hugs and aren’t shy about being affectionate to their friends. Victory hugs, comforting hugs, whatever the reason if they want/need a hug SO is at the ready. Ofc! I’m in the same boat as you and I’m a very affectionate person.and I love to give hugs to everyone in my circle,,, and I give vry warm bear hugs yesyes

I did all the dudes first but if you also want the females just lmk with another ask!

Reader is Gender-Neutral for all audiences

Akiren   

This man is literally so fucking touch starved give him more  

I must preface that you have absolute fucking bear hugs like oh my god

Vry warm n strong would get again feels vry safe in your arms

On that note, he literally gets addicted to them

He’s been in danger for the entire time he’s been here

Risking his life against a pervert teacher, the fucking mafia, otherwordly beings in the metaverse

So finally having the feeling of being given what he dishes out as the leader of the phantom thieves... it feels really fucking good you have no idea im

The first time was when you were hanging out and you just gave him a big hug as greeting

Let me tell you-- mans fucking broke

Akiren.exe stopped working

He took a moment to process what was going on, then he just,,,, s o b b ed

“Omigod Akiren! Are you okay!?”

Akiren, through a waterfall of tears; “y-yeah,,,,,”

Baby boy baby

He keeps it calm in front of the others but he genuinely melts from them   

Doesn’t help his affections towards you have grown for a while   

He’ll return the hugs tenfold whenever he has the chance to   

In private, he’s such a teddy bear oh my god   

He will always ask for hugs when you’re both in private, LeBlanc is slow or closed, and just cuddle with you til the next day   

This would cause you to get tangled up in the mornings sometimes  

Long ass limbs got damn  

He usually tries to return it with head pats but,,,,, man   

Feed him these hugs he’s hungy

Ofc he’d have his moments of jealousy whenever you’d give the others hugs for a bit too long or high fives (he wanted one...)

But they were soon brushed off when you gave him his hugs accompanied by the innocent ruffling of his hair and your laughter

You are forgiven

Ryuji

He’s equally as affectionate so he adores the affection

If you’re female or female identifying/presenting he *will* get a little flustered though

You two always group up to wrap the whole group into hugs

You are both on a high affection drive and everyone must suffer the wrath of it

You sometimes compete on who has the tigher, warmer, safer hugs which you always somehow get everyone involved in and it even sometimes gets you two to try and hug the ever living shit out of each other

Everyone (except Futaba and Yusuke) has to pry you two from each other

But it’s all in good fun

If you’re not in a relationship(yet), you two usually platonically cuddle which of course leads to everyone assuming you are

You explain it’s nothing like that (yet) and that cuddles are just really great even between friends

Hugs hugs hugs give him hugs

Yusuke

Besides Akiren I’d assume Yusuke is also very touch starved

Like

Have you *seen* this mans background

I honestly doubt this man has really ever had a hug in his life

So the first few times he was deathly confused

He knew the concept of hugs just

Never had one or understood it

So he just

Stood there, awkwardly patting your back

“Yusuke are you okay?”

“Yes of course. Why do you ask?”

“You’re kinda just... standing there.”

Silence

“Am I supposed to do something?”

Oh my god

You basically have to teach this man the basics of affection

“Oooh. I understand now.”

He gives you a hug as a thank you

Or just-- a hold in attempt to be a hug?

Progress I guess?

Eventually he gets there

His long arms help a lot in how good his hugs feel

Vry good yesyes

He doesn’t give hugs very often but loves every hug you give

Tries to see how to insert how it makes him feel into his art--

Believe it or not, very addicted

It gives him a very good feeling and motivation

Give the starving artist some love pls n thank

[bansheeoftheforest]

I Am Once Again Giving You London Gang!Jekyll Content

Okay but AU where Jekyll accidentally starts a gang though. He just helped people on the street way too often and then one day someone who opposes the Society just.. gets absolutely destroyed by a carriage out of nowhere. Jekyll gets a box with money and a note that refers to him as 'boss'. There are three routes this could then go.

Route 1: Jekyll is HORRIFIED, he did not want to start a GANG, he does not want to be a gang BOSS, but he can't tell them off because firstly, he doesn't know how he'd even do that, and secondly, they just KILLED SOMEONE, who's to say they won't kill him, too?? Jekyll must now try and figure out a way to solve this problem while Hyde has way too much fun (until he realizes the gang wants him dead for lighting their boss's building on fire).

Route 2: Jekyll is the most oblivious man on earth. He thinks one of the Lodgers gave him money as an apology. People who oppose the Society keep dropping dead and Jekyll keeps patching up the same people over and over who really like him for some reason, it is business as usual with how weird everything in his life already is. Someone (maybe your Crawford guy??) keeps trying to point out all the murders and link them to Jekyll but life hates this man specifically and nothing ever gets looked into because of the most ungodly amount of coincidences ever.

Route 3: Fuck it, he needs the money. He'll just wear a mask whenever he's duking it out in gang fights. He is surprisingly good at fighting, or maybe this could tie into the idea of Jekyll having been in a Scottish gang as a kid, but either way he mops the cobblestone streets with his opponents. He becomes one of the most feared and notorious gang leaders in London, and has a habit of targeting aristocracy that he knows are corrupt and abusive from meeting them as Dr. Jekyll at fancy events. Everything is all fine and well until Brokenshire approaches him saying they need to protect the doctor because clearly those in his social circles are being targeted. Sitcom level hijinks ensue.

(Bonus because I know you love your crackships: Jekyll gets challenged to a gang fight and meets a man in a tophat. He struggles a bit more than usual, but ultimately beats him. He is then held at gunpoint by this guy's sister demanding to know how he bested a trained assassin and whoa wait despite this guy having a bruised face now courtesy of himself he is actually very handsome haha ummm wait a minute did he just say that out loud and maybe invited him to get drinks as an apology for nearly kicking his teeth in uMMM- (bi disaster Dr. Jekyll strikes again!!))

Jeks. Jeks, my guy, thank you for making me laugh so hard, this is just... glorious. I love it all. Oh my god.

I don't know that route is best-- I honestly love the oblivious route bc of all the hijinx and Crawford wanting to rip his hair out in frustration and especially if it is a Syndicate au and it's the Crawford Starrick I based him off (which would make a lil less sense since he is gang leader tycoon and probably could have Jekyll killed but sssuuusshhhh) but I also love Henry just... Getting a goddamn Phantom Of The Opera-esque mask, deciding to go absolutely bonkers, painting entire alleyways red with the blood of his enemies, etc etc, and I absolutely love the idea of Brokenshire directly or indirectly approaching him asking him to protect himself, like they know that Jekyll's persona is well feared and a gang leader but they don't know that it is his gang that is targeting people so now Jekyll is the one sending assassins after abusive and corrupt aristocrats but also has a mission to protect himself from himself. Nice. I absolutely love it. I love it all. And I just... Hyde being do giddy until he realises that the gang wants him dead??? Fuck yes. Give me it all. I just love it so fucking much jfc i cant put it inTO WORDS.

Ok. Ok can we please combine the oblivious route with the masked gangleader phantom being the terror of london route??? Henry at first being completely oblivious, not realising why everyone that has ever insulted him and his work are suddenly disappearing one by one, Crawford wanting to rip his hair out in frustration bc "GUYS IT'S FUCKING JEKYLL HOW IS NO ONE SEEING IT" And jekyll just goes "ahah don't be silly Ricky, I'm not a gangleader lol". Henry being completely oblivious as the Lodgers suddenly get stalked by the gang members, only to be protected by them from other gangs or anti-sciences dudes, the Lodgers retelling the story to Jekyll who just goes like "oh wow man. Huh aren't those the people I have been patching up a lot lately. Strange. What a strange coincidence :)" but then a gang member gets really injured and Henry saves them from death and the gangmember is just... going like "wow, you are the best gang leader I have ever had, you are so much better than everyone else." and henry is just like "ahaha i'm a WHAT NOW"

Cue Henry deciding that, fuck it, if they already think of him as a gangleader why not take advantage of it. He has already been in gangs as a kid so he knows how they work. Quickly becomes a gangleader Tycoon, the lodgers/Rachel/Robert are all confused as to why people suddenly have stopped targeting them for robberies and shit and as to why Henry suddenly has a lot of money he spends on the Society and the bills. Henry telling them not to worry about it. He hears about a dude who suddenly has been swiping through all the ot her London gangs like a hot knife through butter, suddenly his gang is targeted so they are challenged to a gangfight. Henry beats the absolute shit out of him, he has him pinned to the ground when he hears a gun loading and he feels the hilt against his back. He is too busy staring into the beaten up guy's eyes to really care, wow he is so hot, the gangleaders demand that he takes off his mask or he gets shot. He instead lets go of the guy and just... Stands up, brushes himself off, tells them "ahaahh thanks but no thanks. also please stop destorying my gang we literally have not done anything provoking to you."

Anyways they agree to have their gangs work together (oh my god what would Henry's gang be called??? I imagine them wearing the colour blue bc the Rooks are green and the Blighters are red (since it's a specifically a syndicate au lol) but they probably would wear red if it's just tgs anyways off topic hehe). Henry invites them to a drink, his tab, they agree, they find out about all the accidental bullshit that Henry accidentally started and just... Yes pls. Also Jacob and Henry getting drunk and flirting like nobody's business, maybe Henry asking if Jacob likes guys and if he doesn't, is his sister single? Evie almost kicking his teeth in, Jacob laughing his ass off. Yes please.

ALso almost completely forgot the absolute scooby doo mystery of the twins trying to figure out who Henry is since he wears a mask and disguises his identity. Imagine them just being like... Who’s that pokemon? It’s dr. henry jekyll-- WAIT IT’S DR. HENRY JEKYLL????

[eliemo]

The Incident- Part 1

Summary: Sometimes, it’s dangerously easy to spiral. 

TWs: Panic attacks, mentions of past abuse, some blood

Part Two

Masterpost

“Virgil!”

He didn’t even know what he’d done to warrant so much fury and disgust in the scream. It was enough to block out all rational thought, ice cold panic and fear overwhelming despite its awful familiarity. 

He didn’t even get a chance to apologize before he was hit, the hand swinging forward and finding purchase against his cheek, striking hard enough to send him stumbling backwards, throbbing pain shooting through his skull. 

“God, you idiot! How are you this stupid?” 

Virgil tried to get away, confusion and terror crashing down until he couldn’t breathe, chest and throat too tight to get out any of the desperate pleas and apologies on his tongue. 

He couldn’t even make out who was talking, where exactly they were, how many people he’d made angry this time. 

There was a hand in his hair, grabbing, twisting and yanking him forward, ignoring his cries as it threw him into the cold, hard floor. 

“Please,” he choked out, his voice agonizingly small, too weak to hear. “Pl-please I'm sorry, I’m sorry--”

“Just shut up! This is why we have to keep doing this to you! Because you’re too stupid to understand how to do anything right!” 

There was another slap when he tried to raise his head, somehow worse than the first, and he felt something sharp dig into his arm, vision clearing just enough for him to make out the pile of glass shards he’d been shoved into. 

“All you do is hurt Thomas, and we have to do this to clean up your stupid mess! Imagine what the light sides would do if they learned just how useless you are!” 

The voice was furious, cold and mocking, each cruel word accompanied by another merciless strike, the pain quickly becoming unbearable, Virgil left to curl in on himself with the glass digging into his skin. 

And then, in a sudden twist of warped reality, the pain vanished and Virgil found himself curled up in the blankets of his own bed, trembling violently and drenched in sweat. 

But the ache from the beating still lingered, nothing more than fading phantom pain, but it made his heart twist with emotions he didn’t quite know how to identify. 

It had been a while since he’d had a nightmare that vivid, when the pain and panic bled into the real world, leaving him weak and terrified.

He’d worked up the courage to go to Logan about his recurring nightmares a couple of weeks ago, and the two of them had worked out several techniques to at least reduce the frequency of the dreams. 

It worked, to an extent, but it couldn’t get rid of them completely. He’d just gotten unlucky tonight. 

He shuddered, pushing himself up just enough to glance at the clock, collapsing back down with a groan. It was barely four in the morning- no one would be up for at least another three hours and there was no way he was waking someone up over a stupid dream. 

It wasn’t even anything particularly upsetting. Nothing he hadn’t handled before. Just a cruel reminder of a memory he’d lived through so many times before, vile words he’d heard too many times to count. 

It was fine. He just...he just needed to get a hold of himself, take a few deep breaths and stop crying. 

But it was no use. Not when he was alone, hunkered down in the dark, no prying eyes or pitying stares forcing him to hold back. 

The first sob broke from his chest, cruel, biting words still ringing in his ears, scream after scream always directed at him, always angry, and the dam broke. 

Virgil buried himself under his blanket and pressed his face into his pillow, hoping beyond hope it was enough to muffle the pathetic, wrenching sobs he couldn’t help to hold back. 

The last thing he needed was someone hearing him. He didn’t want them to see that after everything they’d done, all the “progress” they thought he was making, he was still just as broken as he was when they’d started. That a simple dream could revert him back to a trembling, terrified mess. 

It was stupid. He was safe now and he knew that. He hadn’t deserved it and he was...working on believing that. 

But it wasn’t going to happen again. That was what mattered. He had his family now- his family who had shown him over and over again that he had no reason to be afraid, so there was no reason his stupid brain should be getting this worked up over a bad dream. 

It wasn’t even a particularly bad memory in comparison. It was fairly routine for how things had been back then. 

He might have ended up crying himself back to sleep, or he may have simply zoned out without realizing, his head too fuzzy to know for sure. Either way, by the time sunlight began to filter through his window, Virgil was shaky and exhausted, the room tilting dangerously when he raised his head off the soaked pillow. 

He thought he heard distant voices from out in the hallway, but it was impossible to make anything out over the pounding of his own head. 

He needed coffee. And, if he was feeling brave enough, maybe a hug. 

Virgil forced himself out of bed, legs a bit unsteady as he landed on the carpet and shuffled to the bathroom, content with the idea of throwing icy water in his face and hastily putting on some eyeshadow to cover up the fact that he’d been crying. 

He must not have done a very good job, because as soon as he made his way into the kitchen, wrapped up in his hoodie to hide the fading tremors, Patton looked up from brewing the coffee with gentle concern. 

“Morning, kiddo,” he said, smiling past the worry. “How’d ya sleep?” 

“Fine, I guess.”

Patton frowned but didn’t push, instead stepping aside to allow Virgil access to the coffee pot, an easy, early morning silence filling the kitchen as the moral side began gathering things together for breakfast. 

Virgil found himself holding his breath as he got his mug out of the cabinet, silently pleading for his hands to stop shaking. He couldn’t handle dropping anything right now. He knew it would be ok if he did, knew Patton wouldn’t be angry, but…

“Imagine what the light sides would do if they learned just how useless you are!” 

He squeezed his eyes shut, setting his mug on the counter and willing himself to just calm down. 

They knew. They knew him, knew what had happened to him, and they...they loved him. For some unfathomable reason, they loved him. 

They wouldn’t hurt him. He didn’t have to worry. It was over, it was over, it was--

“Kiddo?” 

Virgil’s eyes flew open, Patton’s voice pulling him from his spiral, and he realized with a start that he had stopped breathing entirely. 

“Sorry,” he said automatically, and then immediately flinched back. He was supposed to stop doing that, they’d told him to stop apologizing and he could never seem to listen. “S-sorry, I just...I- do you think you could...I mean, you don’t have to but I was just--” 

“Virgil,” Patton cut him off, moving slowly as he rested a hand on Virgil’s arm. “What do you need?” 

It was stupid. It was beyond stupid especially considering this was Patton. He should just be able to ask, but he’d been extra needy lately and he wanted them to think he was doing better- and what if they thought he was being annoying-- 

Virgil took a breath, shutting down his own anxious thoughts. Nightmares made him extra paranoid. 

“Could I just...h-have a hug?” 

“Oh, honey.” Patton’s features instantly softened, worry morphing to a mixture of sadness and relief, and before Virgil could even blink he was being pulled into the familiar comfort of warm arms. “Of course, baby. You don’t have to be afraid to ask.” 

And Virgil was absolutely not going to start crying again. It was barely seven in the morning, he wasn’t going to do that to Patton, he put the moral side through too much as it was. 

But then Patton’s hand was cupping the back of his neck, idly running his fingers through Virgil’s hair, and there was absolutely no holding back the pathetic choking sound as he desperately tried to force back the sobs building up in his chest. 

“I’m here,” he said, Patton’s voice barely above a whisper. “I’m right here, honey. What’s going on?” 

“Nothing,” he muttered, quickly realizing that wouldn’t cut it. “Just...had a long night. It’s fine.” 

“Nightmare?” 

He thought about denying it, feeling ridiculously stupid and childish, but there really wasn’t a point. Patton wouldn’t ridicule him, and he’d already lost what little composure he had. 

But he didn’t entirely trust his own voice right now, not wanting to break down completely in the middle of the kitchen, so he just nodded against Patton’s shirt. 

The other side pulled away slightly, hands still gently clutching Virgil’s shoulders, and the anxious side warily met his warm gaze. 

“I’m sorry, kiddo,” Patton said, the furthest thing from judgmental or annoyed. “You wanna talk about it?” 

And he didn’t. At all. Because it wasn’t just a stupid dream- it was a memory. It had happened, many many times before, and talking about it would just make it more vivid in his mind. He just wanted to forget. 

“Nothing to talk about,” he mumbled instead. “Just...same old stupid stuff.”

“It’s not stupid,” Patton said, but mercifully didn’t push. “You look exhausted...how about we set you up on the couch with a blanket until breakfast?” 

Virgil nodded again, allowing Patton to carefully take his hand and guide him into the living room and onto the couch. A part of him wished he could have just stayed wrapped in the hug for the rest of the morning, but he knew it was a selfish request. Everyone had things to do today, Virgil included. 

Besides, the weight of the blanket around his shoulders was nice, and the quiet, mindless noise of the television created a welcome distraction from his thoughts. 

Logan came down the stairs just a few moments later, looking a bit more disheveled than usual, offering Virgil a quick and quiet greeting before disappearing into the kitchen, probably in search of coffee. 

Roman followed soon after, still dressed in his pajamas with his hair a mess. Virgil expected him to follow Logan straight into the kitchen like he did every morning, so it was a bit of a surprise when the Prince was suddenly standing in front of the couch. 

“Scoot over, J-Delightful.” 

Virgil blinked, momentarily frozen. “What?” 

“It’s early and I’m cold,” Roman complained. “So scoot over or I’m commandeering your lap.” 

Virgil decided not to mention that he really wouldn't mind the latter option, instead moving over just enough for Roman to fit, making sure there was enough room for both of them under the blanket. 

Apparently making room on the couch didn’t even matter, because in mere seconds Roman was completely sprawled out, somehow ending up with his head in Virgil’s lap and doing a very poor job of pretending to be asleep. 

Virgil didn’t know if he was still visibly distressed from his dream and obviously in need of physical contact, or if Roman just had impeccable timing. 

Either way, he didn’t exactly have any plans to move. 

The rest of the morning passed relatively peacefully. Logan had been up late working on scheduling and had woken with a headache, so the volume was kept low, the conversation quiet and lighthearted. 

It also, thankfully, kept a majority of the attention off of Virgil, although he was certain nothing could stop the worried glances Patton kept throwing his way. Worried glances that were entirely unnecessary. 

Yeah, he’d had a bad night and an unfortunately vivid dream. But that didn’t mean he needed to be watched over like he was about to break at any second. 

But no one put him on the spot, no one asked any questions, like they knew he could shatter under too much attention right now.

 It was just a stupid dream, already rapidly fading. He was safe. 

And then Roman dropped a glass on the floor. 

It didn’t even break, just cracked a bit along the side, but the sudden noise was enough to shock the room into sudden silence.  

Virgil jumped, guilt and fear instinctually curling up in his gut despite the fact that he hadn’t even done anything. And he knew- he knew that even if he had it wouldn’t be a problem. 

But then Logan was sighing, shoulders tense like he was angry, whirling around to face the Prince’s sheepish smile. 

“Dammit, Roman,” he snapped, unexpectedly curt. “Can’t you be more careful?” 

Roman blinked, momentarily frozen where he was bent over to pick up the fallen cup, for once clearly at a loss for a retort. 

“Language please,” Patton spoke up, and Virgil wanted to shrink away from the nervous glance he sent. “Let’s be a bit more gentle, ok? Roman didn’t mean to- there’s no reason to get angry over an accident. Right?” 

Logan seemed to notice his mistake before Patton even finished, straightening up and flashing Virgil an apologetic look before turning back to Princey. 

“I...apologize, Roman,” he said carefully. “Genuinely. I am not angry, I simply...am still nursing a bad headache and lost my temper for a moment.” 

Roman had already gotten over his shock it seemed, picking up the glass and fixing the crack with a wave of his hand, offering Logan an easy smile. 

“Don’t sweat it, Teach,” he said. “I should’ve been more careful. I think the dishes are balanced all weird.” 

“Well, we will...have to look into fixing that when we have time.” 

The easy silence was back, just for a moment as Roman filled the now intact cup with orange juice and made his way back to the kitchen table. 

“You don’t have to do that, Logan,” Virgil muttered, staring intently down at his eggs and toast. “You don’t...I’m fine.” 

“I know,” Logan said earnestly. “But whether or not you are in the room, Virgil, anger is not an appropriate reaction. You can be a...welcome reminder of that. So...thank you.” 

And Virgil had absolutely no idea what to say to that, but Patton was smiling and Roman looked relieved, so he managed a tiny nod and a timid smile of his own before turning back to his breakfast.  

It was a...surprisingly nice thought, he realized, and one he hadn’t really ever allowed himself to consider. That he could possibly be helping them even half as much as they helped him. 

He couldn’t really wrap his head around how being a pathetic mess all the time could possibly be of benefit to anyone, but...but Logan didn’t just say things for the hell of it. 

Things should have been fine after that. 

Virgil’s hands had thankfully stopped shaking by the time they cleared the table and washed the dishes, a hot shower helping clear the last of the fog from his mind. 

By mid afternoon Roman had disappeared into the imagination with colorful goodbyes and promises to return with stories for days, and Patton had teamed up with Virgil to convince Logan to let himself nap for at least a few hours. 

As much as Logan needed the rest, Virgil couldn’t help the tight, anxious feeling that curled around his chest when Patton was summoned to assist Thomas, likely to be gone for the next few hours at least. 

That left Virgil alone in a far too quiet mindscape, left to his own devices for a late lunch. He wasn’t particularly good at cooking, not to mention how stressed it made him when doing it on his own, but he didn’t want to risk the moral side’s disappointment at finding out he hadn’t bothered to eat again. 

(Patton had discovered Virgil’s habit of skipping meals fairly early on, looking strangely horrified when the anxious side explained he wasn’t used to have multiple meals a day, usually just sneaking snacks at convenient times)

But he was fairly sure he could manage putting together a sandwich without messing up too horribly. And maybe, if it turned out, he could leave something in the fridge for Logan in case the other side woke up before dinner. 

He should have been paying closer attention. That was his job, after all. He was anxiety, he needed to search for every possible threat, every way something could go wrong, every way to prevent everything from falling apart.

But he wasn’t even thinking, even after what had happened this morning, letting his tired mind wander as he opened the cabinet and reached for a glass. 

It should have been fine. He never would have been able to be near anything glass if his grip wasn’t steady, always plagued with too many paranoid thoughts. 

His fingers had just brushed the glass when there was a sudden thud from upstairs. Nothing out of the ordinary- probably just Roman returning from his realm or Logan waking up- but of course it made Virgil flinch and jump backwards, knocking over a second cup as he moved, both plummeting to the ground too fast for him to even try and react. 

The shelf was higher than the one Roman had reached for, and in the blink of an eye both cups had shattered, the deafening crash leaving behind a sea of glass shards littering the kitchen floor. 

For a horrifying moment, Virgil couldn’t move. Everything had gone cold, silent, his eyes glued to the scattered glass, briefly wondering if this was all just another cruel dream. 

 “You’re too stupid to understand how to do anything right!” 

The voice snapped him out of his daze, old memories and almost forgotten panic rushing back all at once, screams and threats and disgust being hurled mercilessly… 

It had been an accident. Just a stupid mistake. It was ok, right? They told him it would always be ok. They told him…

“How are you this stupid?” 

He flinched, digging his nails into his hands as he felt himself begin to tremble. He’d made so many mistakes. Too many. And he’d never actually broken anything before. 

He wasn’t Creativity, he couldn’t just snap his fingers and put it all back together. He’d made a mess. He’d ruined everything and someone was going to be mad, someone would end up...end up…

Virgil dropped to his knees, forcing his shaking hands to move, working to gather all the glass into a pile. He didn’t have time to find a broom. If he cleaned it up quickly, covered up his mistake well enough, then maybe they would never find out. He could get away with it. 

It was risky. He’d tried it before, and lying about mistakes always led to something worse. But he had to try. He couldn’t...he couldn’t go through any punishments right now. 

“God, you idiot!” 

There was so much glass. How had no one heard the crash? 

“You break everything you touch, don’t you see that?” 

He ruined it. He ruined it again. They were right, he couldn’t do anything correctly. He’d been safe, he’d been trying so hard to be good, and look what he’d done. 

“Useless!” 

“God, you’re pathetic, Virgil.” 

“All you do is hurt Thomas! Why shouldn’t we hurt you too?” 

The voices overpowered his own labored breathing, drowned out the rest of the world, memory after memory replaying over and over again, hatred and fear trying to choke him. 

But it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered. All he needed to do was clean up the glass, make sure it looked like he had never stepped foot anywhere near the kitchen, and then he would be safe. They wouldn’t have to hurt him. 

Virgil wasn’t even sure who he was afraid of at this point. 

It took longer than it should have since his hands were shaking so badly, but he didn’t stop, gathering up as much of the shards as he could into his hands and dumping them into the trash can, ignoring the way the glass cut his skin, slicing open his palms. 

He could worry about that later. He could barely feel the pain underneath his rising panic, and it would be nothing compared to what would happen if he was caught. 

He didn’t stop, fumbling blindly for the remaining shards, stopping only to wipe the floor with his sleeves when his blood started to drip onto the tiles. He refused to let himself cry, even as his vision blurred, knowing the noise would only attract attention. 

It was taking too long. He was too slow, and any second now someone would walk in and see what he’d done, what he was trying to hide. 

But then...then he couldn’t feel any more glass, just smooth, ice cold tile beneath now blood soaked fingers, and something close to relief wormed its way up to the surface, past the panic and the pain. 

The stinging in his hands had increased to a fiery agony at this point, the pain pulsing and stabbing like tiny knives, blood flowing down his arms and soaking into his hoodie, but it didn’t matter. His mess was gone. He could get away with this. 

Now if only he could stop shaking like a coward and find a place to lie low. 

Virgil covered his hands with his sleeves (the last thing he wanted was to get his blood everywhere) and used the counter to drag himself to unsteady feet. 

He couldn’t panic, couldn’t let it all set in. Not yet. Not until he was safe. 

There were sounds coming from the living room, and Virgil quickly stuffed his hands in his pockets, biting back a hiss of pain and quickly making his way out the door. 

Patton was in the living room fiddling with the tv remote, and Virgil suddenly realized he had no idea how long he’d spent cleaning up the kitchen. 

Had someone noticed he wasn’t around? Had anyone been close enough to hear? Did they suspect something? Did someone already know? 

“Hey, kiddo!” Patton greeted, cheery and welcoming as ever, but Virgil felt something freeze in his chest, ice cold fear wrapping around his heart and squeezing-- 

“H-hey, Pat.” He couldn’t panic. Not now. He couldn’t hurt Thomas, couldn’t let them see how weak he still was. He could hold out. 

“Logan’s feeling better, but he’s already gone back to work,” Patton continued, tossing the remote on the couch and sitting down. “I’m gonna start dinner in about an hour, that alright with you?” 

Virgil blinked, hearing the blood squelch beneath his fingers as he twisted his hands into fists, desperately trying to keep himself from shaking. 

He knew. Patton knew. There was no way he didn’t, no way he wasn’t already angry. He was just waiting to see if Virgil would lie so the punishment could be worse. 

He needed to get out, get away, get as far away as possible and hide until he wasn’t angry anymore-- 

“Actually I, uh, I’m not feeling great,” he forced himself to say, hoping it was believable. “I don’t think I’m...I’m gonna be hungry. I might just go lay down.” 

“Oh, sweetie I’m sorry.” He moved to stand, stopping when Virgil couldn’t hide how his shoulders tensed. “Do you...need anything?” 

Virgil was already moving towards the stairs, shaking his head, ignoring the strange look Patton was watching him with. The pain in his hands was growing unbearable and it was getting harder and harder to breathe, memories of pain and yelling he suddenly couldn’t convince himself wasn’t coming. 

“I’m good,” he said. “I-I’m fine, I’ll just be in my room.” 

And then he was gone, stumbling up the stairs before Patton could say anything else, breaths now coming in shallow, trembling gasps. 

His hoodie pockets were soaked by now, hands sticky and soaked and somehow still bleeding, but right now he needed to figure out where he could go to be out of everyone's way, stay hidden until the anger faded and his punishment lessened. 

Roman was apparently still gone and Logan’s door was closed, but Virgil could hear the faint sound of muffled music coming from inside the logical side’s room, carefully sneaking past without a sound. 

He made it to his own bedroom, pausing outside his door with a shaky hand hovering above the doorknob, blood still coating his fingers. 

What was he thinking? He’d had too many failed attempts at hiding in his room, yelling and banging outside his door, their fury overwhelming as he was grabbed and dragged away from his bed…

He backed away from the door, glancing back down the hall to make sure he hadn’t been seen, making his way to the closet at the end of the hall. 

“Did you really think you could hide?” 

Virgil pulled the door open, wincing at the audible creak, and ducked inside, squeezing his eyes shut as he locked himself in the near total darkness. 

“You’re such a little coward! God, you pathetic waste of space!” 

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe- they were choking him, screaming and grabbing for him, all of them furious--

But...they weren’t. They weren’t upset with him. Not yet, anyway. Logan, Roman, and Patton wouldn’t...even if they were angry it wouldn’t be anywhere near as bad as it used to be. 

Right? 

They’d hated him once before. They’d all lashed out, reprimanded him for doing something wrong. But they said they wouldn’t. They’d promised. They’d said he...that he…

He was up against the wall now, pressed tight into the tiny closet’s corner, feeling lightheaded and far away as he fell into hyperventilating, chest aching and screaming for air, the pain momentarily overshadowing the cuts on his hand. 

“Anxiety!” 

“Trying to hide only makes it worse, you know.” 

Virgil didn’t remember sinking to the floor, but suddenly he was curled up in the dark closet, panic and fear taking their hold, sobs finally breaking free, his aching body wracked with violent tremors. 

“Will you shut up?” 

Virgil flinched, despite there being nothing but his own twisted memories, biting down on his sleeves to try to muffle his sobs. 

He jolted at the sudden pressure on his hands, the pain from a particularly deep cut flaring to life, and for just a terrifying second the world seemed to tilt. 

He curled up into as tight of a ball as he could, head buried under his hood, sobbing and shaking in the corner of the closet.

[avasnotalee]

hiiiiii i made another terrible miraculous t-word fic lol

Word Count: 1383

Ship: MariChat

Switch!Mari Switch!Chat Noir

It was yet another night of waiting on a desertedrooftop for Chat Noir, as he waited for Ladybug. Although he knew she was busy being the new guardian of the miraculous, he couldnt help but wish his partner were there with him. Chat missed the nights they shared, when they leaped from building to building; making sure everything was in order. He missed the jokes and remarks they exhnaged.. he missed it all. Then he thought of the most hurtful time he had been stood up by Ladybug, and how he went to Marinette’s place. He had begun to go there more frequently on the days he was left to patrol himself, as marinette was good company, although he could never stay there for very long.

As everything in Paris seemed in order, Chat Noir made his way to the rooftop of the Dupain-Cheng family’s bakery. With a knock on the little trap door, Marinette popped up to answer it. Before Chat had came, she was very busy learing about her new responsibilities as the guardian, but thankfully she had her new kwami friends to help her through the journey. Those new friends of course, had to hide in marinette’s miracle box, which the box itself was safely hidden in a pink dollhouse on her desk.

“Oh, um- hey Chat!” Marinette exclaimed nervously, she was not prepared for his presence, as she was deep into her studies.

“Hey Marinette, Ladybug didnt show for patrol again tonight, and I was wandering if I could hang with you a while to feel less lonely?”

“Yeah! Of course, come on in.”

Suddenly, it hit marinette like a brick that she still had all of her pictures of Adrien up in her room! (not that it mattered, becuase they were for research purposes only, right?)

“wAIT- hold on my room is uhhh- a little messy.. um.. yeah! wait here for a minute.”

suddenly, the trap door was closed in Chats face.

“Shes a terrible liar” Chat thought to himself

“What is she hiding?”

Marinette came back with a nervous smile plastered across her face

“Okay all clean like a bug in a rug! super sparkely- nice haha..”

“Are you okay mari?”

“Oh me? what? pshhh yeah im great”

“ooookay then”

Chat noir climed down the steps into Marinettes vibrant room

“Soooooo what are you really hiding from me?”

“Me? Hiding? Something? I have no secrets from you Chat Noir” Marinette nervously giggled

“Are you suuuuuure?” Chat teased, lightly poking her in the side

A high pitched squeal escaped mari’s lips, causing chat noir to give her a smug look of suspision

“Oh now theres defintley something youve never told me before”

“I have no idea what youre talking about”

“that youre actually pretty sensitive, huh purr-incess?” The blonde teen smirked

“I um.. no-“

without giving Marinette a chance to defend herself, Chat Noir tackled the poor girl to the ground

“cmon chat, were not 5 years old”

“well too bad there is nothing you can do about it” he grinned, pinning marinette at the wrists above her head. Chat proceeded to take his free hand, and start spidering her helpless midsection

Marinette began to buck and squirm “come ohohohon chat noir hahaha” she pleaded

“this is the most convenient way for me to get information out of you, isnt it marinette?”

“nohohohoho theres nothing to hide hahahaha”

“I know how to get you to tell me”

Chat began to dig and wiggle his thin fingers into her underarms

“PLEHEHEHEASE CHAT NOIR NAHAHAHA” Marinette threw her head back in laughter, with her legs kicking out in front

“Please what? Keep going? Sure I will!”

“ILL GET YOU SOHOHOME FOOD FROHOHOM THE BAKERY PLEAHEHEASE STOHOHOHOP!”

Chat Noir let up his fingers to think about the deal

“hmm I could go for a macaroon right about now. I’ll set you free, but the macaroon has to be grapefruit.”

Marinette lay on the ground panting “fine, I’ll get you your grapefruit macaroon.”

She got up to get the treat, and as she quietly went down the stairs, it struck Chat Noir that he may be able to find what she was hiding while she was gone.

Chat looked everywhere, but couldnt find anything interesting. Just as he was about to give up, he noticed a diary free on marinettes desk. As soon as he was able to walk over, he could hear marinette coming up the stairs. He quickly grabbed the book but didnt get the chance to open it.

Marinette walked into her room to see Chat Noir standing very awkwardly, with his hands behind his back.

“Um, Chat? What do you have?”

“Nothing. Why do you ask?”

“Obviously becuase youre hiding something behind you.”

“No I’m not, I’m just respectfullly holding my hands behind my back. Did you get the macaroon?”

“Of course I did” Marinette extended her hand to give him the macaroon. Although the grapefruit macaroon that she makes weekly was reserved for adrien, she considered making another one another time would be worth it to get out of Chat Noir’s Claws

As he went to grab his snack, Mari realized his other hand was still behind his back. He was definitley hiding something.

“Chaaaaaaat, what do you have?”

“I already told you, I dont have anything.”

Marinette ran behind Chat, and got a glimpse of her diary just before he was able to turn around. He shoved the whole macaroon in his mouth, then held the book high above her head, just out of reach.

“Hey! I need that!” Marinette whined, jumping to get her diary back.

“You didnt read anything in it did you!?”

“Not yet”

“I really need that back chat”

“onlly if you can reach it first”

of course Mari couldnt reach it. She defintiley wasnt short, but she was not near as tall as Chat Noir. She remebered once when she had tickle_ him as Ladybug, so it was definitley one of his weaknesses. If she couldnt reach, shed need to use another method to get back the holder of all her deepest secrets

Marinette scribbled Chat Noir’s underarms, causing him to pull his arms down to protect his sensitive spots

“H-Hey! You cant just- nahaha” He then dropped the book and Marinette put it back in her super safe box for it.

“Now its payback time!”

“What- why? nO-“

Marinette then tackled the flustered cat “Why not? Dont tell me youre ticklish Chat

Noir!” Of course she already knew the answer, but seeing him turn all red and shy about it was just too cute to miss out on.

“God I hate that word. I hate even saying it out loud.”

“aweee but its such a presious word! tickle tickle tickle kittyyyy”

Marinette began to teasingly poke Chat Noir’s sides, and watched as he started to panic

“no mari wait- nohohoho you cahahant just nahaha” he tried to push her hands off his torso, but he was already weak with laughter

“poor ticklish chat, having your weakness used against you and Ladybug isnt even here to help.” She cooed, spidering his tummy

“noHohO I- plehehease I cahahahant! hahaha” Now he was the one pinned with his legs kicking beneath marinette being straddled on top of him

“dont let any akumatized villans find out about your little secret, itd be over for you within 30 seconds! Escpecially around your your hips~”

“hohohow did you- AHAHAHAHA MARI IM GONNA DIIIIHIHIE AHAHAHAHA!”

Chat thrusted and bucked in attempt to get the strong girl off of him, but it was practically useless as he was rendered imobile given his situation.

“MARI HAHAHHAHA I CAHAHAHANT!”

“Ill tell you what kitty, if you say the word tickle, I’ll let you go.”

“BUHUHUT I CAHAHAHANT NAHAHAHA!”

“its such an easy word to say, if you refuse to say it, im just gonna assume that you must like being tickled”

“NOHOHOHOHO I DOHOHOHONT”

“then say it.” Mari grinned down at him

“TIHIHIHIHI NAHAHAHAHA” Chat Noir’s laughter went silent

“okay fine you were close enough” she sat on the floor next to him and played with his hair as he still giggled out the phantom tickles

“youre sure protective of that book arehehent you?”

“eh, it was mostly just an excuse for me to get you back.”

“thats so mean.”

ty for reading! If you have any story requests pls send lols