#they make my brain explode violently

[fujoshi-wife]

hiii..... this was supposed to be for aiyusa month weeks 2 + 3 but i was not fast..... take gay people happy pride

[scottpilgrim4everr]

Scott Pilgrim /affectionate

Scott Pilgrim /derogatory

[aerticent]

Cal makes me feel actually insane like i can’t put into words how he makes me feel i love him so bad he’s jsut so djdjfjsjdjdjdj

[bmpmp3]

the really beautiful landscape/skyscape animation in makoto shinkai's works tends to be the big thing i see focused on and that is understandable and deserved like the weather and lighting effects are unREAL but i do think we should also appreciate how absolute insane the plotlines of his original movies get. at least two movies with in universe catastrophes with major ecological implications. the guns and explosions. theres that one movie i havent seen yet with the guy who turns into a chair (?)

[ratcandy]

they're not even recognizable anymore honestly . absolutely asinine how i did that so fast

[cascadingcandlelight]

He was going to teach her the rules. He sees a pawn, or a bishop, or the queen and has to take a breath to steady himself.

Just. Chess as a metaphor for him, for his friends, for Deus-Pa’zuul’s scars that, while never touched by the teeth, he still has. Chess as a metaphor for what he’s lost. Colin doesn’t play chess anymore. He can’t.

Headcanon time: Colin never touched a chessboard for the rest of his life. Completely loses his appetite whenever he sees one in tavern halls on his travels.

He was gonna teach Karna the rules, dammit...

[satorurize]

He wanted them three rounds, DC had to come help him

Pairings: Established relationship, bf!gojo, reader is AFAB, a little lovesick gojo, he's overworked :(

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, freaky!gojo, marathon sex, p in v, (multiple) creampies and orgasms, squirting, feral gojo, sex in general.

Gojo Satoru is a freak..

Rumors about him being an absolute slut is true, but there is no bigger example than Satoru who is a slut and a virgin, a walking contradiction, before he met you.

Satoru looks at you in almost apprehensiveness when you give him a soft gaze at the revelation. This wasn't a look of disappointment, it looked like....pity. And Satoru hated being pitied more than anything.

He's a little embarrassed, although you reassure him that it's something you will never care about.

"You are literally juggling too many things with barely three hours of sleep, and virginity is a social construct anyway.." You shrug, looking up at him hovering over you, his tip nuzzled between the ingress of your sopping pussy, and oh how he thought that the pity would make his cock soft but it didn't, it just made it harder. It was a little pathetic, the way his cock was so easy that mere words of care and tenderness and acknowledgement for his furious schedule has got him rock solid, with the pearls of his precum clustering on the exterior of your sweet cunt. He was that love starved.

It took everything to not give your pussy mauling thrusts already, he was never the one to talk about how he indeed wanted a break sometimes and he wouldn't even now, especially being this horny and excited that he felt like a dog in heat. He had more than a good idea of how to go on about it, he had seen it in the bad porno that never appealed to him.

"Sweetheart..just let me put it in, I feel like my cock is gonna explode..I don't want to think of a bunch of blobs that I exorcise, not very hot.." He chuckled cheekily, leaning into your cheek, looking at you with the periphery of his eyes with a lecherous gaze, planting hot, open mouthed kisses onto your jaw and neck while he ached.

"Always a brat.." You sighed, grabbing his endowed cock from the base, pushing it into your velvety walls with a look of challenge and amusement laced onto your face.

After that, all hell broke lose. There was nothing that would stop Gojo Satoru now, not even if he was to be kept caged within his infinity. He would break it, just to discern your sweet, sweet cunt.

The challenge that was plastered onto your face just vanished, your assumption that Satoru would stop just after the first round with the orgasm that hit him with the speed of light, which made him finish so fast that it was deplorable, was so so wrong. He went on, and on and on.

And Gojo Satoru was innately confident, the fact that this was his first time didn't matter. He was always explorative, always excessive. Bold of you to assume he understood the concept of moderation.

"O-oh..fuckk..Toru.." You looked up to him with your glassy, nearly red rimmed eyes from the nth orgasm of the night, your cloying moans just made him keep going. Your was pussy puffy and clit violently engorged after being fucked this thoroughly.

"U-uh-huh..yeah, you like that..fuuuck baby, look at you.." He cooed with a feral grin on his lips as he steadily moved his hips, keeping your legs hoisted up on his shoulders, getting the hang of it. His hip movements no longer uncoordinated. He had always been a fast learner. He stills his hips with a series of whimpers as he came with hot white, thick ropes into your womb, pulling out with a lewd pop that spilled the cum stuffed inside down to your ass. You moaned softly, hazy and a little disoriented as your fluttering pussy pushed it all out.

He hummed at the sight, tapping and massaging his now agitatingly red tip onto your clit, he himself could feel his brain seem afloat, reverberating to take you again even after the multiple orgasms. He was dead set.

He hissed softly with widened eyes, in surprise and amusement, a full blown throaty laugh echoing his throat when you squirted, gushing out like a dam. He vigorously rubbed his sensitive cock on your sloshing pussy, his cock unbearably hard again. He was hooked, addicted. To you.

He grasped your hips, pulling you forward which made you mewl at the suddenness. He pressed his hefty weight on your body, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. If he had a laceration on his brain from the way this image of you burned in his head, sprawled underneath him, all flushed, sweaty and a mess, just for him. He would die rather than using his RCT.

"God baby..you washed my cum away, gonna hafta, fill you up again.."

©𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐢𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬

Plagarism not authorised.

m.list!

[fbfh]

Thinking about lazy morning sex with Jason Grace. Making him feel so wanted because you’ve just woken up and there’s a million things you could be doing but all you want is him. Imagine his brain short circuiting at the concept of being the first thing you want when you wake up. He’s not an afterthought anymore and he just can’t wrap his head around it.

Jason is so sweet in the morning. He's all disoriented and drowsy, his eyes are all puffy from sleep and his glasses are sitting on the night table where he left them last night. his blonde hair looks like he got struck by lightning, which in all honesty wouldn't surprise you knowing him. his cheeks are all flushed and his muscles are all soft and relaxed. he's never been relaxed before ever, and it's only since he started sharing a bed with you, snuggling up with you and feeling your soft little good night kisses that he's known what peace feels like. so that particular morning, birds and cicadas singing outside, the ac blasting cold air over you and your blonde superman of a boyfriend, you just can't resist him. you're so right that he's not used to not being an afterthought. this is literally Jason whenever you express how much you love him or even do the bare minimum, much less treat him the way he deserves to be treated. you're like I love you so much and he's like whhhat??? whhat is going on????? what the hhhell are you tahlking about?????????? then you kiss him and his brain short circuits. this morning in particular you just can't resist him. you start peppering his puffy sleepy face in kisses. he's barely awake, he's blinking one eye at a time and thinks it's dream. then you climb on top of him, and that really wakes him up. his brain understands unbelievably horny hottie and sitting on my morning wood, but he can't get much further than that. he can't connect the two, make himself realize that he's the reason you're like this. and quite frankly if he did his head and balls would explode so violently neither of you would come back from that. so as you ride him, languid and lazy, soaking in every electrifying sensation of pleasure shared between you two, as you indulge yourself in touching him, kissing him, anywhere and everywhere you possibly can, you decide this is a good starting point. your breathing gets faster and you keep moaning out his name, sighing it into his lips over wet, messy kisses that just get deeper and deeper and he can't believe his ears. but he really wants to. you decide this is a good place to start. maybe after a few more weeks of riding his morning wood till he's nice and soft, he'll start to get the hint that you really, really like him. like, a lot.

[j3sterth1ngz]

I've officially lost my mind; I love him so much 🥺

I watched one singular playthrough and the hyperfixation brain worms grabbed me through the screen so violently I felt his ad jingle reverberate through my bones. My hands signing adoption papers before I was able to make a conscious thought. It's gotten so bad I started acting like him. People are screaming; My family is crying. I accidently drop something and say I have 'Doey fingers' instead of butter fingers; The world explodes.

In all seriousness he's probably all I'm gonna be drawing for an extended period of time... So just a heads up ajslsjkls

[dontmixpaintinyourcoffee]

OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOODDDD THE NEW TGS PAGE IS MAKING MY BRAIN GO SO FAST I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!

First off, I love how violent it is. Obviously it's tonally appropriate, but it also seems like a logical escalation from the other instances of the transformation we've seen. I'm gonna rant about it for a minute so body horror warning I guess? I don't know what other category a guy vomiting green science goop would fall into.

Exhibit A:

From the very first change, it's always been very intense.

He describes it as deeply unpleasant and painful, because his bones are literally changing, and by the end of it he's fallen to the floor.

Pretty expected for your first time through an extremely physically traumatic event. But he never seems to get used to it.

Exhibit B:

This transformation takes place two years after the first one. I'm sure a lot of this is the way it is because this moment is very dramatic and it needs to land that way, but the in-world logic is far more interesting to me. His dropping the flask and collapsing implies that even after this whole thing has become routine, his body still isn't used to it. Obviously your bones changing on a dime is never gonna be easy to go through, but even after two years there seems to be almost no acclimation. He probably can't even accurately predict when the pain will start, otherwise he would've set the flask down earlier.

But both of these transformations seem somewhat predictable. It starts inside of his mouth and eyes and spills out, working from the inside outward. My guess is that that is the stabilizing effect of the portion. Because once he starts to transform without it as a catalyst...

Exhibits C, D, and E:

The process starts to break down. It starts the same way it always did, but by the third or fourth switch he starts producing a lot more science goop (Goop? Slime? Bile? Some kinda.... Green shit. What the fuck is this shit), but with less physical change. It starts getting onto his clothes, and it seems a lot more all- encompassing than it did before. Early on the goop seems incidental. The goop and the pain are both byproducts of the potion. But at this point he's practically choking on the stuff, it's not just an ambient effect, it's something being violently purged from his system. Until we get to this point- the first self-inflicted shift without the use of the potion.

Exhibit F:

It's completely out of control. Not only is it full-force Exorcist style exploding from his mouth, it looks like it's coming out of his skin. These two panels, to me, imply that the stuff is sweating out of his skin in quantities that are heavy enough to soak through his hair. His expression can be interpreted a few different ways- general agony, screaming, ect. - but when I imagine what this scene would sound like I think there's too much blockage for him to be screaming. The way he folds over, his wide eyes, the amount of goop, I'm willing to bet that his expression is him desperately trying to breathe.

Anyways. I genuinely love this stuff. This is exactly my type of horror. The kind that doesn't seem like straight up horror until you give it a bit of thought. Chef's kiss. Delicious. Finally some good fucking food

[artemisgrayy]

Had this rattling around in the old brain pan- fueled by your incredible writing even more

During the final battle, reader gets badly injured are isolated from the rest of the group. Adam finds her but instead of killing her he offers her a proposition- let him have his way with you (always wondered about demon-strange) and he’ll let you live, decline and he’ll kill you [and maybe still have his way with you]. Alastor overhears and is NOT having it.

Your Unlikely Hero

✨Masterlist✨

Tags: Minors DNI, Alastor x Reader, Adam threatens rape, non-con, gore, violence, fluff, swearing, traumatic events, Alastor is bad at feelings, Alastor to the rescue.

18+ - Minors DO NOT INTERACT

Pain slashes through you like an angelic spear as the fatal wound on your leg gushes streams of crimson across your skin. The smell of iron and cinder invade your senses as you struggle to apply pressure to the seeping gash.

“Well, what do we have here?” A voice cuts through the distant screams and explosions that surround you. Your chest tightens when you lock eyes with Adam who approaches you through the debris, a shit eating grin splayed across his unmasked face. Your heart slams in your throat when you see the look of pure malice in his eyes.

You desperately attempt scramble to your feet, only to feel your leg give out, pain shooting through every nerve ending like dynamite. You're immobilized. You have no way out of this.

“Fuck,” you shriek, shaking uncontrollably from the adrenaline coursing through your veins, fear ripping through you deeper than the wound. He glides towards you effortlessly with malevolent purpose.

“You know,” he laughs, grabbing a fistful of you hair to pull you to eye level, your scalp screaming as individual strands breaking free, “I've always been curious to know what you hell-bent degenerates feel like around my cock.”

You screech, the pain in your leg becoming far less urgent as you kick violently to escape his grasp. The warmth of your tears cut through your dirt-covered cheeks when he smashes his lips against yours. You swallow back the acid building in your throat, nauseous from the unwanted advance.

He rips you backwards, his gaze locking onto yours. You tremble when you observe vile smirk on his face, “How do you like the taste of humanity, bitch?”

“Please stop,” you beg, hopeful for a shred of compassion.

He throws you to the ground and you feel the back of your head connect against the cement with a sickening thud. Everything spins. The crimson sky above you full of screams as the exorcists launch a full scale attack on everyone you've ever loved. Everything closes in around you as Adam stands over you, ready to have his way.

“Adam!” Chimes a radio filtered voice from behind him, “I know you have a penchent for being a nuisance but unfortunately y̴͕̋o̸̫͛u̵̙̚'̷͈̇v̵̪̇ë̶̹́ ̷̻̊f̶͊ͅǘ̴͎c̷̻͆k̸͉̀ẹ̷͐ḑ̴̐ ̶̨̆w̵̠̒ỉ̴̺t̵̹͛h̴͐͜ ̷̜͗t̵͉̾h̴̛̖e̸͓̕ ̵̗̚w̴͚͒r̵̭̅õ̷̡ń̴̦g̵̭̾ ̵̘͂p̴̪͠e̷̲̊r̸͖͗s̵̤̎o̴͖͐n̷̦̿.̶̱̈”

You peak around the angel and see Alastor standing there, his blood red eyes glowing with a rage you had never seen before. Both of his hands are overlapped casually on his cane in front of him — though his stance and expression are anything but casual. His smile holds firm but fury bleeds from his gaze like the saliva dripping down his chin. The furious demon's squared shoulders raise with every irritate breath as he stares down the first man with murderous intent.

A wave of relief flushes through your chest at the sight of him, tears line your eyes but the state of shock you're in prevents them from going further.

“Not yet I haven't.” Adam cackles, standing his ground over his prey.

“Ha ha ha, cute” guffaws the Radio Demon, tilting his head. He slams the bottom of his cane against the cement. Swirls of shadowy demons and tendrils explode violently from the ground, spawning all around him. His eyes narrow, daring the angel to make a move.

Adam turns toward you and his hand shoots down towards your throat. You choke out a stutter as he drags you up in the air by your jugular. Wind whips the hair free from your tear soaked face as you hang 20 feet over the roof of the hotel.

“You want your bitch? Come and get her, you fucking pussy.” Adam beckons as you fight for breath, his nails digging into your skin when his hand tightens. You claw desperately at his grasp, fighting to stay conscious as a dark vignette clouds your vision.

“Gladly.” Alastor promises, “though that's an appalling way to talk about a lady.”

Sharp peaks of shadow laced with an electric storm of green fire from Alastor’s position, slamming into Adam, breaking you free from his grasp. You stutter and gasp, your lungs awarded with the sweet taste of oxygen as your airways shoot open — but the relief is short lived when your body begins free falling.

You close your eyes, ready to accept your fate as you plummet towards the scene below you.

To your surprise it wasn't the cement that broke your fall, but instead something much softer. When you open your eyes you find Alastor's face looking down at you, his eyebrows furrowed with concern. You're enveloped by the feeling of security as he holds you tight against his body.

“It appears as though I'm not the only falling, darling,” coos the demon, pressing his forehead against yours, “I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner.”

You're taken back by the sincere show of emotions from him, “and here I thought you only tolerated me,” you jest, your voice raspy as you continue to fight to catch your breath.

“Heavens, no.” He pulls his head away, reflecting for a moment, “Though I’ll admit, the threat of losing made it clear how much I need you. Let's keep this between us, shall we?” he pauses, “at least for now.”

A smirk forms on your face and you nod in approval. He presses his head to yours once more before setting you down against the wall.

He turns his back to you, facing Adam, who has recovered from the attack, and is menacingly standing a top the broken sign of the hotel.

“Adam — first man, next to die!”

Part 2 now available!

--

I was HELLA excited to see this prompt in my asks so THANK YOU 👏👏

More like this plz.

--

✨Masterlist✨

[solarmorrigan]

disoriented + steddie pls!

Please accept my humble offering, O Anonymous

<3

11. Disoriented - Eddie/Steve

cw: panic attack, Steve has PTSD

-

It’s silly, really, what sets Steve off. Something small, something he wouldn’t have given a second thought to, normally.

It’s the ceiling.

The room is dark when Steve wakes, just barely lit by a flickering light that he can’t see the source of, and as he squints up at the ceiling, he realizes that it isn’t his ceiling. The texture is wrong, and it’s hard to tell for sure, but he thinks the color is off, too. It isn’t his ceiling, and he isn’t in his bedroom, and suddenly–

Suddenly Steve has no idea where he is.

He doesn’t even remember falling asleep, and now he’s woken up somewhere strange, somewhere unfamiliar. His heart starts pounding as he turns his head, trying to figure out what’s going on. Everything is in shadow, looming and strange, blurry – Steve realizes that he isn’t wearing his contacts, that he doesn’t know where is glasses are, and what the hell is going on?

Where is he?

It looks like the only source of light is coming from a TV, the screen a smear of flashing colors that Steve can’t decipher, and it doesn’t help him in the slightest. Had he passed out at a party? Is he at someone else’s house?

But no, he doesn’t do that anymore. He hasn’t in a while.

He tries desperately to remember what he’d been doing before he fell asleep (passed out?), but his brain has spun out a hundred miles ahead of him, no longer accepting rational input, because the last time he’d woken somewhere unfamiliar he’d been at the mercy of his violent captors, and the time before that he’d been trapped in a car being driven by a thirteen-year-old, and his mind is trying desperately to jam a square peg into a round hole and make his surroundings make sense.

“Steve?” Someone speaks, and a hand lands on Steve’s shin.

Steve yells wordlessly, scrambling upright, away from the hand, panicked, feeling utterly stupid for not having even thought to check for other people, for someone who could hurt him, for whoever might have taken him here in the first place, except– except when Steve finally gets a look at whoever it is, the wild curls and wide eyes ping as familiar almost immediately.

Maybe he doesn’t know where he is, but he knows that face, even without his contacts, even in the dark, even in his panic.

“Eddie?” Steve manages, hoarse and breathless.

Eddie moves, reaching out behind himself, and suddenly the room explodes into light. Steve scrunches his eyes shut against the initial flare, but when he opens them again, everything has changed. He recognizes the dark fabric of the couch he and Eddie are sitting on. He recognizes the lamp on the end table behind Eddie. He recognizes the coffee table and the scatter of books and papers sitting on top of it. He recognizes the pale carpet and the TV stand and the blurry shape of the doorway he knows leads to the kitchen even though the light in there is still off.

He recognizes all of it because he’s seen it dozens of times before, because he is in the Munson’s goddamn living room.

Steve sags a little against the couch, heart still pounding, breath still wheezing in and out a little too quickly to be comfortable, and he shakes his head against the buildup of anxiety that now has nowhere to go.

“Hey,” Eddie calls softly, and Steve looks up at him. “What happened there? Are you okay?”

Eyes scrunched shut again, Steve runs a hand over his face, nodding his head, then shaking it, unable to decide.

“I got…” He looks back up at Eddie, suddenly feeling small and out of place, uncertain even though he knows exactly where he is now. “I got lost, for a minute.”

He can’t quite tell what expression takes Eddie’s face at that, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Eddie is sitting forward, reaching out again, not touching this time, but offering.

“C’mere, sweetheart,” Eddie says, and Steve finds he doesn’t want to do anything but exactly that.

He moves across the couch and crashes into Eddie’s open arms, burying his face in his neck as his arms come around Steve’s back, stroking up and down as Steve rides out the shakes of adrenaline, and here – here, at least, Steve knows he will never feel lost.

[yandere-sins]

Hi! I saw the request that involved the poly trio of the yan! Ghost, the darling and darlings best friend (reader) and it honestly just scratched my brain perfectly.

So if it's alr, I was wondering if it would work with Konig? I know he isn't really one for sharing in the slightest, but perhaps if he found himself vaugly fond of us, as while I'd imagine the darling being a ballsy, hothead- we'd be quiet and meek like in the Ghost fic and perhaps that while darling was definitely the center of attention, that reader was easier to deal with because of no kicking or screaming or hateful words and he'd perhaps just occasionally give us a pat or seek attention from us when things were rougher than usual with darling?

Perhaps this prompt would be darling went after Konig's gun or smth a bit ago and maybe he's currently fuming and darling is locked in a bathroom or smth and we maybe attempt to be the peacekeeper and try to smooth things over? (Not because we want to be nice, but because we know it's better when Konig and darling are calm rather than there being screaming and violence) and we try to meekly approach and convince him to calm down some? Sorry if this didn't make much sense and I really like your writing!

Thank you for requesting!! I hope I came close to your idea! ^-^

»»————-———— ♡ ————————-««

You flinched when the bathroom door was slammed shut, almost slipping from the carrot you were cutting, but luckily, the knife missed your fingers. The screaming and fighting had finally ceased, but you didn't know who won this time as you continued to prepare dinner. However, the answer was easily determined as König stepped out of the hallway and into the living room, the fabric mask on his head moving as he shook his head.

"Scheiße," he muttered, and you put down the knife, knowing the sound would agitate him more. Scheiße meant shit, you knew that by now. He wasn't happy, it seemed. The knife made a soft clink! as you laid it flat on the countertop and he whipped around towards you, both of you startling like two deers in the headlights, and you muttered a soft, "Sorry..." while you two tried to gauge each other's intentions.

It wasn't like your captor was really terrible to you. Indifferent suited your relationship best, and you liked it that way, hating it when the attention was on you. His attention had proven to be obsessive, violent at best, from what you witnessed. It was a relief that the focus was more on your best friend than you. It was her that he was concerned about, her that he wanted. And you were just a means to an end for your friend to like him more. Their third-wheeling pet, basically, even though it was an awful situation for both your friend and you.

For a while, no one said anything. The situation was tense enough that your nervous babbling might have made him explode. König never touched you, never hurt you in the ways he did to your best friend. Subjectively, she was much worse off than you were. Still, you could never know when that giant of a man would finally snap, and you didn't want to be within his reach at that moment.

"I just..." he started, heaving another deep sigh and gripping his forehead. With his weird mask on, he looked comically like a killer from a movie, but you realized early that he wasn't that hard to read even without seeing his face. "She grabbed the gun, okay?! Why would she do that! It's dangerous! She could have gotten hurt!"

Nodding, you played along. Of course, you knew why your friend grabbed the gun, but you chose not to tell him. On this planet, you were the last person that wanted to upset him—your friend did that well enough. It hadn't been her first attempt at getting rid of him. She was righteous to the core, fuelled by courage and almost stupidly confident in what she was doing. You admired her for it, considering you were the one always close to knives yet too afraid to even use them.

You could never be her. It was just too scary to think about.

"I don't get it..." König grumbled, grabbing his wrists and anxiously twisting them in his grip. For someone confident enough to capture two people and lock them in his apartment in a make-shift family situation, you came to realize his anxiety was pretty terrible. He seemed a little happier when you all sat down to eat together or watch a movie. Still, usually, he was a nervous, pacing wreck who got desperate when your friend refused him any kindness.

But on the other hand, you had all the time in the world to observe. You noticed every fidgeting of his hands, even underneath the table. You caught all the badly-hidden attempts to flirt with your friend and how she simply didn't notice. By now, you could even tell if he was frowning or smiling underneath the shirt, just from the look in his eyes. It was the best you could do in this situation, but it helped, occasionally.

He looked downright scary now. You didn't like him when he was a soft-spoken fool in love, but it was worse like this. Just how were you supposed to act? How could you not make yourself a target while also helping your friend, who probably banged and locked the door behind her in an attempt to get away from him? The hide-and-seek the two often played when things got rough almost always ended in either a broken door or your friend starving herself for days while you had to deal with an irate kidnapper. If possible, you wanted to avoid that.

"It's... it's really dangerous."

"Right?! I've told her, I—"

König stopped mid-pace and slowly, suspiciously, turned around, his sentence coming to an abrupt halt. Even laid in shadows, you saw his eyes widen, then narrow, his invisible eyebrows raising in surprise before they furrowed. His sudden doubt was no surprise—you had never agreed with him before. And although he seemed like one sometimes, he wasn't as much of a fool as it might appear. Even if you were just the pet, the extra—a side character in a story that did not involve you, you had never tried interfering before, always too scared to be the next target on either's hit list. Tensions were high, and maybe it wasn't the right moment to play devil's advocate. But maybe there was some kind of role in this play. Maybe you could change the story after all.

"I think she was just so scared; she didn't think about herself getting hurt."

"What..." he gulped, still not so sure if he should entertain this conversation with you. However, his curiosity won over. "What is she scared of?"

You felt the thin ice you were treading with your intervention crack beneath your bare feet. You! was the obvious answer to König's question. She's scared of you, idiot!

But you wouldn't say it. Wouldn't put either of you captives into this position of angering him deliberately.

"B-Burglars," you stuttered out, the first best thing that came to mind. Stupid, fucking stupid. The front door itself was locked better than Fort Knox. This was the highest building of a highrise. How was anyone going to break into here?

And yet, König stilled. He didn't move an inch, although his eyes seemed to fixate on you, and you felt the sweat pearl on your face. He knew it was a lie; he must have known that it was a really, really bad lie, too.

"Are you also scared of burglars?" he asked all of a sudden, and you froze, not expecting the question. This could have been the point where König decided that you were a useless accessory, and you wouldn't have been surprised if he had just picked you up and thrown you against a wall to end your existence.

Perhaps your fear had driven you mad.

"Y-Yes?" you breathed out, sounding like a question rather than the obvious statement you should have made. "Are you?"

Biting your tongue, you watched as König crossed his arms. His shoulders fell, his posture growing less tense and more thoughtful as he looked up at the ceiling that he almost hit with his head. It wasn't before long that you heard the long drag of his breath before he sighed, letting his head fall forward. There were two short jerks of his head downwards, almost like a nod to himself, and then he looked up. Really looked at you. He only needed three steps with his long legs to cross the distance between you and him, and you tumbled back in fear, leaving the knife on the kitchen counter like a dumbass.

That's it, you thought. That's how it ends.

"You go for their weak points," König mumbled, gesturing towards his stomach. "When it's obvious that it's a man, you kick him right here."

Pointing his hands downwards, your eyes made an instinctual glance before you caught yourself, immediately avoiding looking at your captor's crotch for more than the millisecond you already had.

"Verstanden?"

That meant, "Understood?" You were learning German bit by bit. You gave a short nod, and it made König hum in approval.

"Gut." (That meant "good.")

"Now, for a woman, you can do that, but it won't be as effective. You should—wait, I'll show you."

You flinched as König raised his hand, his palm settling at the back of your head. There was so much confusion about the sudden self-defense he spoke of, but when he grabbed a handful of hair, you winced out of pure fear, although the grip wasn't strong at all. When he guided your body and head forward, you did as you were instructed, with absolutely no resistance now that you were at his mercy. He could probably snap your neck just by yanking your head hard if he wanted, so there was nothing you could do but follow.

"You grab the woman and kick her leg-" he tapped the tip of his foot against your shin to demonstrate, "-and when she loses balance, you slam her head into a surface. Downwards is more effective, but a wall will do."

With more gentleness than you thought he could muster, he forced your head forward, almost close enough to hit the kitchen counter. You whimpered as you feared for a moment that he'd actually give you a demonstration of what he was telling you.

"And not like that," König explained, tapping your forehead on the solid surface. "But like this."

And then, out of nowhere, he yanked your hair back, and you had not even one second to catch your breath before he drove your head forward again with such skilled fluidity that your life flashed before your eyes.

It was like all your senses had given out from shock, but the pain that you expected never came. The back of your scalp was a little itchy and agitated from the pulling, but you expected your head to be smashed in would hurt a bit more than just the feeling of him tugging at your hair.

Slowly, you opened an eye, trying to see what had happened. When your sight adjusted, you saw the marbled countertop just inches away from you. Reaching up, you grabbed the edge with both your hands, making the situation more real as you realized nothing had happened. You didn't hit the counter, and you didn't die.

Your knees began to wobble as tears filled your eyes. This was terrible, the situation was one nightmare after another. But you were so thankful to still be alive. König's body shifted closer to yours as he leaned forward, his hand still locked in your hair. "Verstanden? Don't be forgiving. It's you or the burglar, and they won't show you or your friend any mercy. You need to know how to protect her."

You gave a slight, faint nod as his fingers unwound from your hair, although his touch lingered. Awkwardly, he stroked down your shuffled hair twice, patting you lightly between your shoulders as you wouldn't move from your bowed position.

"Good. You're a good learner. Next time, I'll bring you a training partner to practice."

Much to your own surprise, you managed to give a short hum in reply before your knees finally broke away beneath the stress, and you sunk to the ground. It scared König almost as much as you, but you barely noticed his fussing until he picked you up, a squeal escaping you as you were lifted even higher than the kitchen counter was.

"Mein Gott, you are both so frail! Why do you two always refuse to eat meals when you are that easy to pick up? You'll surely get kidnapped one day; that's why good food is so wichtig."

With your heart pounding out of your chest, it was hard to keep up your broken understanding of the German language. He exclaimed something sounding like my god, and from his wording, the phrase he used sounded almost important—was that what the other word meant?

The irony of him thinking you could get kidnapped passed you by with the shock.

König settled you down on the living room sofa, and you breathed a sigh of relief as his arms vanished, the immediate danger in your life moving away, only to stand barely a breath away from you, arms akimbo as he mustered you from high above. You tugged in your legs, hugging them to your chest in an attempt to feel any sense of security.

What should you do now? How could you continue being a good friend while also saving your own life?

You learned a few things that evening—mainly how to defend yourself. Learned it from the man you wish you could protect against. Your friend was bold and rebellious, but you, too, had it in you to make a change. König was crazy out of love for her, but he wasn't as ruthless as you thought him to be. You'd even go as far as to say he was overprotective and a bit paranoid, which played right into your hands.

"Are..." you scrambled, your throat dried out from screams you didn't know you held back, every word you wanted to say scratching along it like his fingers had against your scalp. "Are we... wichtig? To you?"

There was a painful silence for a few seconds, and you only dared one glance upwards at his face, his eyes returning to being unreadable.

"Of course you are! You two are the most important things in my life— I mean... Your... your friend is the most important person to me, but you are wichtig, too! You are, you... well, du bist du, and that's good!"

You were stunned as you listened to him blabber on as if embarrassed. And no second later that König said his piece, he stomped off, seemingly agitated. You heard him knock twice on the bathroom door, calling for your friend to come out and have dinner with you. The next thing was the unlocking and slamming of another door, followed by many locks being put in place on the outside.

Du bist du, the sentence slowly registered in your mind. You are you, and that was all you were to him, but for some reason, it felt good. Comforting. You are you, and that's good. The words kept repeating in your mind. It was vague, but given how König seemed to be a vague person, this was better than being no one, right?

You heard the creaking of a door before tiny, barely audible taps closed in on the living room. Your friend didn't look much better than you must have after the whole ordeal, but her gaze was filled with confusion and sparks of awe.

"What did you do?" she asked you. "You made him leave us here?"

"I don't know," you mumbled, touching the back of your sore scalp. "I told him you took a gun because you were scared of burglars, and he showed me how to defend myself, and I don't know what happened then; it was all so fast."

"Oh my god..." your friend whispered. "That is the chance! Now, we can find a way to get out or get help! Come on!"

She dashed back into the hallway before you could even agree to her plans. But all your courage, all the fight you had when you tried to mingle into their affairs, seemed to have left you. You may have learned a lot that evening, but it also made you realize you knew something she didn't.

You two were important to König. One way or another.

Even if it meant teaching you how to defeat someone, even if it meant putting himself in danger, König was keen to use all the tools he had to protect what was important to him. However, you were no fool to think he'd let you get too comfortable with the strength and tools he was giving you. Because the truth was something only he and you were sure of now:

You'd never defeat him.

[separatist-apologist]

We Never Go Out Of Style

Could end in burning flames or paradise

Summary: When Gwyn breaks up with her boyfriend on the eve of Nesta's destination wedding, Nesta Archeron has only one objective: set Gwyn up with her high school crush.

Note: Based on this tweet from @heathermcwrites: "One of my bridesmaids just broke up with her bf who was supposed to come to my wedding & I was sad for her for about 3 seconds until I remembered that her crush will also be at the wedding (single) and I'm now more committed to this 2nd chance romance than to my own marriage."

"I should also note that this is a destination wedding so there are EVEN MORE opportunities for uh…shenanigans"

Read More: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | AO3

She needed to get Jonathon out before anyone else noticed him. Azriel seemed genuinely surprised, frozen in place beside her. What happened when his brain caught up to what was happening and did something they’d all regret. She pressed her hand to his chest, cognizant of the place they were in. 

The music thudded in time with her own panicked heartbeat. Jonathan was going to ruin whatever was blooming between her and Azriel before it ever had a chance to start. She wanted to sink into the floor and die.

“I’ll be right back!” she yelled over the music. Azriel nodded once, his eyes blazing with shadow even in the dark club. He clenched his jaw but didn’t move as Gwyn maneuvered through the bodies for Jonathon. He seemed so out of place in his skinny tie and his buttoned up shirt, better suited for an academic conference than a boozy night club. 

Jonathan seemed to think her hand on his chest was a positive sign. His fingers curled around her sweat slicked wrist, causing Gwyn to look over her shoulder. Azriel was still watching, though if he saw the point of contact, she couldn’t tell—it was simply too dark.

God, this was such a mess.

“Outside,” she demanded, her fury rising to match the fear she felt. He couldn’t just show up and demand she talk to him. They were over? Hadn’t someone taught him that no truly meant no? Apparently not.

Outside, a crescent moon hung far in the sky, framed by the few spackling of stars visible beneath the pollution of artificial light. The air felt good, and Gwyn, wrenching her wrist from his grip, pulled her hair up off her neck in an attempt to cool herself off.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, resisting the urge to shove him violently to the ground. Asshole!

“I needed to talk to you,” he said, running a hand through chestnut hair. “You…Christ, Gwyn, I was thinking about calling in a welfare check.”

Gwyn nearly exploded, turning in a half circle to keep herself from screaming on the busy sidewalk, where any number of tourists might also call in a welfare check. At least it would be deserved.

“Breaking up doesn’t require a trip to the psychiatric ward,” she snapped when she was able to face him. God, how had they spent so long together? Looking at him, half illuminated in the harsh orange fluorescent of the nearby street lamp, all Gwyn saw was an insecure man. A pathetic man.

A man she’d once loved. She tried to pull up even an ounce of that love to keep herself in check, but found only revulsion. That was going to make the confrontation between them difficult. It was only moments before that she’d been afraid of the violence Azriel might exact, but now she was afraid of her own capacity for violence.

“Go home,” she said, trying to keep her voice level. The last thing she needed was a scene. 

“No,” he replied, taking a step toward her. “Not—not until we talk.”

Gwyn threw her hands up in the air, her frustration mounting. “What is there left to say?” As far as she was concerned, she’d said everything she needed to when they’d ended things. 

“A lot,” he challenged. “Is there somewhere…else…we can go?” 

Gwyn looked upward at the stars, smoothing out her hair beneath nervous palms. It had been so easy to let him be the bad guy on this trip, but the fact of the matter was, she had interrupted his proposal to break up with him, blocked him, and had let Azriel spend nearly two weeks antagonizing him. Did she owe Jonathon an explanation? 

“Fine,” she agreed, stalking off in the dark for one of the many hammocks not too far out. She wasn’t going to sit in one, but it got them away from people who had phones at the ready where they could record whatever explosion was brewing and then slap it on the internet for views.

To his credit, Jonathan followed along without remarking on how much he detested tourist traps, resorts, or the flip flops someone was louding smacking against the pavement. 

“I asked you to marry me,” Jonathan blurted out, as if he couldn’t keep the words leashed for a moment longer. They’d only just reached the grassy courtyard, where the pavement branched toward all the differing buildings the resort housed. A playground stood empty in the distance, an empty swing swaying slightly from a phantom breeze. She could hear the nearby splash pad spraying water for children that would return in the morning, distracting her for a moment.

“I don’t want to get married,” she lied. Gwyn did—just not to Jonathon. 

“That…why?” he asked, his tone slipping into desperation. 

Gwyn was shaking her head before she’d formulated a response. “I…”

Jonathan seized on this, reaching for her hand to pull her closer. “We were perfect together. Everyone thought so. I…I envisioned a future for us, Gwyn. A family, even,” he added, though he’d never once mentioned children to her. He didn’t seem the type—his writing and research would always come first. 

For a moment, Gwyn was overtaken by an image of it all. She’d stay home, because of course she would. Taking care of their home, their children, their lives while he soldiered on. Perhaps he’d reach the level of fame and success he’d always dreamed of, and she’d become a footnote in the back of his book. Her life was far less glamorous—researching private schools and arranging playdates or pouring through cookbooks.

It wasn’t a bad life. It simply wasn’t the one she wanted for herself. 

“I don’t love you,” she told him, pulling out of his grasp as she shook her head once more. “Not like that, anyway.”

Pure pain flashed across his expression, leaving them both paralyzed by the silence. It was a brutal, yet truthful, thing to say. Gwyn wanted to cry all of the sudden, though she wasn’t sure why. Leaving him had felt like a weight being lifted from her very soul, replaced by a lightness that left her buoyant. Now, though, she felt those familiar chains, attached to a cinder block that threatened to bring her sinking back into despair. Guilt began clawing at her throat, demanding she say something else to erase that look on his face.

She wasn’t a cruel person by nature. 

“How do you just stop loving someone?” he asked her, his own voice strangled with emotion. “I don’t understand it.”

Neither did she. Gwyn shrugged helplessly, already drowning in her misery. He was ruining what was supposed to be a good night. Already, it seemed a million miles from her, distant and half forgotten in her hazy memories. Had Azriel truly asked her to be his girlfriend? And had she actually been happy about it? Gwyn didn’t think she’d ever been happy for a moment in her life.

“I can’t explain it,” Gwyn said, trying anyway. “But I knew, when you asked, that I couldn’t say yes.”

“We’ll go to counseling—” he tried, but Gwyn’s hand flew up, palm facing upward to stop him as she violently shook her head.

“You need to go home,” she said again, this time with more force. “I’m not going to change my mind. This is over. It was good, but…we were all wrong for each other and I think deep down, you know that’s the truth.”

It was his turn to shake his head, his desperation hardening into something angry. Something mean. “It’s that guy, isn’t it? Azriel.”

“He has nothing to do with any of this,” Gwyn said truthfully, though the snappish way she said it likely did her no favors. Who cared if Jonathan thought she was being honest or not. He was looking for something to latch onto—something that would explain why she hadn’t fallen into his arms after this grand gesture, or agreed to work on things. He simply wasn’t ready to accept things were over.

He’d make her a villain to all their mutual friends, and that irked her. Maybe that was unavoidable. That didn’t mean she liked it, or wasn’t going to defend herself. She hadn’t even known Azriel when she’d ended things, though she doubted Jonathan would care about that distinction. Was she rushing into things with Azriel, she wondered? She'd jumped from one relationship seemingly into another with practically no time to breathe. What had started as a fun fling felt like so much more, but viewing it from the eyes of a stranger, Gwyn wondered if she wasn't just grieving the loss of her relationship with Jonathan. Would she wake up one day and realize it was all a rebound? 

She wanted more than that from Azriel. 

“No?” Jonathan challenged, looking over her head. Gwyn turned, suppressing a groan. Azriel was walking toward her, Cassian and Rhysand trailing a few feet behind with drinks still in their hands. It was hard to take either of them seriously, especially as Cassian’s mouth attempted to find the pink, curly straw without looking down at his beverage.

“I have this handled,” she called behind her, because she did. 

Mostly. 

Azriel was going to make things worse. She could see, from the expressionless look on his face, that he didn’t think so. They hadn’t been gone that long. 

Jonathan was spoiling for a fight, and Gwyn didn’t need to be clairvoyant to know exactly how it would end. Azriel had the kind of hands that weren’t strangers to blood and bruises, but Jonathan wasn’t the fighting type. Had he imagined this scenario playing out as he’d flown down? Fighting for Gwyn’s honor, as if violence had ever once impressed her.

She was quick to get between them, arms thrown out. Azriel stood close enough her fingertips brushed his shirt. It was comforting, in a way, though she wished he wasn’t here to witness this humiliation. It would have been much better to tell him about it when they were both in bed together, and she’d had enough alcohol to find the whole thing funny. 

“Is this because of you?” Jonathan demanded, half shoving Gwyn out of the way. Azriel held up a finger, his eyes flashing a warning.

“Don’t put your hands on her,” he warned, his voice cool. 

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want,” Jonathan replied, getting closer to Azriel. It was almost comical—Cassian chortled when he saw how much taller Azriel was in comparison to Jonathan. How much muscle Az had on her ex. It made Gwyn cringe—she knew where this was headed, a train wreck she both couldn’t stop or take her eyes off of. “Did she tell you she had a man? Or was that part of the fun?”

Azriel merely looked down at him, fingers flexing at his sides.

“Don’t,” Gwyn pleaded softly. Azriel’s gaze cut to her, jaw tilting upward in agreement. 

“You sound drunk,” Azriel said instead, doing his best to diffuse a situation that was practically begging for a violent altercation. “You should go home.”

“Why don’t you come with…ah, don’t do that,” Cassian called, but Jonathan shoved Azriel, which did nothing tangible. Azriel didn’t budge, though his expression darkened. Shadows seemed to curl around him while even the temperature of the air dropped just a little. Gwyn shivered, waiting for a blow that never came.

He’d said he wouldn’t. She exhaled. 

“Come on,” Gwyn whispered, slipping around Jonathan for Azriel. “Go home, Jonathan.”

“Fuck you, you…you bitch!” he yelled, his anger getting the better of him.

Everything happened too quickly to track after that. Azriel’s temper snapped, his fist colliding with Jonathan’s face. Gwyn screamed and Cassian swore as Jonathan crumpled, his skull bouncing off the pavement before he went still. For one horrible second, Gwyn thought Azriel must have killed him.

Jonathan groaned a moment later, still among the living, though his brain slightly scrambled.

“Don’t ever talk to her like that!” Azriel snarled, surging forward to hit him again. This time, both Cassian and Rhy dropped the drinks, the plastic cups clattering to the ground as they grabbed their friend by the arms to hold him back. Some voice she didn’t recognize started yelling as Gwyn looked upward at the sky.

Everything felt ruined.

And she had no one to blame but herself.

—

“How’d you sleep?” 

Azriel looked up from the cot in the Italian cell he’d spent the night in. Of course Jonathan wanted to press charges, though the Italian authorities didn’t seem to care too much, one way or the other. They couldn’t care that much if Cassian was bailing Azriel out on his wedding day.

He’d assumed he’d spend the day there.

“Fine,” Azriel lied. He’d slept like shit. Gwyn hadn’t looked at him in the aftermath, as if she couldn’t stand the sight of him. She’d spoken to the police softly before Nesta and Emerie had taken her away, arms slung over her slumped shoulders.

Azriel didn’t regret his actions, even if he’d hurt her. He didn’t blame her for being angry, though. She’d asked him not to, and he’d let his temper get the better of him. It was just…fuck. Azriel ran a hand through his hair, his thoughts replaying on a loop. She’d told him she wanted him—only him—and for a moment everything had been perfect. And then her ex appeared, dragging her off with him and all Azriel could think about was how she’d get back together with Jonathan.

Of course she would. Seeing the two of them together…he couldn’t explain it. He’d always thought himself better than Jonathan until he saw the man in person, put together and crisp in a way Azriel was never going to be. His insecurities had gotten the better of him, and with Cassian and Rhys in tow, he’d gone to see what they were discussing.

He’d almost gotten away with his girl in tow, his temper in check. It was hearing her called a bitch that set him off—it was Jonathan’s voice, but it might have been his fathers, hurling another insult at his mother. 

He hadn’t meant to retaliate. One minute he’d been seconds from slipping his hand into Gwyn’s and the next his knuckles ached and blood was splattered against his cheek. Azriel ducked his head, following Cassian out after signing himself out and collecting the few belongings that had been in his pocket.

“It’s your wedding day,” Azriel said, blinking against the bright, cheery sun.

“Yeah. Nesta’s pissed,” Cassian agreed cheerfully, nodding toward Rhys who was leaned up against a black sedan in a three piece suit. 

Azriel groaned.

“You owe me money,” Rhys said as if he’d ever try and collect it. “Get in. You look like hell.”

Azriel only sighed, sliding into the back of the air conditioned car. A plan was made, haphazard and yet doable—they’d rush back to the resort where Az would take a very short shower, dress himself, and be waiting in the lobby to head down to the beach before Nesta could grow any angrier. 

It left him no time to talk to Gwyn, which was the only thing Azriel wanted to do. He needed to tell her he was sorry…he needed to tell her a lot of things, if he was honest. The truth about his feelings, which hadn’t seemed terribly important when they were standing in the middle of a busy club. He regretted that, now. He should have taken her out of there and opened himself up.

Not that he had much experience in that realm. 

Azriel sprinted across the resort when they were dropped off in the circular drive, heart pounding. He didn’t expect to see Gwyn in their shared room, but also didn’t expect to find all her things were gone. The room was neatly made up, and his things were exactly where he’d left them. Hers, though, were gone. 

Azriel’s heart sank into his stomach. Trying his best not to think about the implications of her coming home alone, packing up all her belongings, and leaving, he showered quickly, shaved the stubble from his jaw, and flung on his suit which still hung in the closet. 

Rhys was waiting outside for him with a carefully neutral expression. “You good?” Rhys asked. It was an opening—Azriel could have been honest with his friend and said no, he wasn’t good. What was the point? He wasn’t going to chase Gwyn down across a continent like her last lover. If she was done, Azriel would walk away.

Even if the thought of it made his chest impossibly tight. As he followed Rhys, who remained blessedly silent after Azriel nodded his head that he was, indeed, good, Azriel tried to take deep, calm breaths. At least on the outside, Azriel hoped he projected calm indifference, even on this inside he was drowning in his anxiety.

There was no time to talk once they got in the lobby. Elain Archeron had taken over, shoving him into a line beside Emerie. Gwyn was walking with Rhys, draped in a silken, silvery blue dress that made his knees shake. She hadn’t looked at him, her gaze fixed on Emerie as she adjusted a loose curl around her friend's face. Gwyn looked just as good from behind, which soothed him only a little.

Look at me, he pleaded silently. She didn’t, shifting in her flat shoes and fussing with the clingy fabric that hugged the soft curves of her body, but never turned to look back at him. Azriel focused on the color of her hair, curled softly as it hung loosely down her exposed back. Sunlight gleamed against the cinnamon colored tresses, bringing out the rich hues of red and brown. He flexed his fingers at his side and waited for instruction. 

A beach wedding was, perhaps, not a choice Azriel would have made for himself. The wind whipped Nesta’s veil around her face and the waves made it difficult to hear anything the officiant said, even when Azriel stood close enough behind Rhys that they were nearly back to chest.

Sand poured into his shoes and even when the ceremony ended with Cassian dipping Nesta into a kiss, giving Az time to covertly shake out his shoe, he didn’t manage to dislodge any of it. Azriel tried to be happy for Cassian and Nesta—he was happy for them. Truly. Cassian deserved every good thing he got, and Nesta was his favorite addition to their little group. 

Gwyn vanished with Emerie and Nesta, appearing occasionally for group pictures before melting into the background again. Azriel tried to track her, but it was as if she’d found a way to step into the very air itself and hide from him.

It seemed an obvious answer to his question. A better man would have just cut his losses—it was a vacation romance, after all. What had he truly expected? The wedding was over, and they would all be packing and heading home in the coming days. Sure, he’d asked her to be his girlfriend, but maybe that didn’t mean much, either. Maybe Azriel had only ever been fooling himself, thinking what was happening between them was ever going to be more.

The reception was a mix of indoors and outdoors, held in one of the ballrooms the resort hosted. It was on the smaller side given the size of their party, with an open bar and a balcony that overlooked the glittering ocean. 

Azriel’s first point of business was a drink. Straight whiskey, no chaster, poured as a double in a glass as if he wasn’t about to drink it like a shot. Which he did—twice. He hadn’t eaten since the night before, and had barely slept, which was hardly anything new. Gwyn was doing her damndest not to make eye contact with him, and though Azriel knew a confrontation was brewing, he wasn’t quite drunk enough for it yet.

If she was going to end things, he wanted to be thoroughly numb when it happened. 

Azriel found Emerie dancing with Mor and dragged her away with what he hoped was a subtle nod of his head. Her smile slipped into a grimace that made his stomach lurch. 

“Hey Az,” she said, holding her shoes by one finger as she walked across the swirled, marble floors. Gwyn was nowhere to be seen, missing with Elain Archeron doing god knew what. 

He didn’t know what to say, hadn’t planned that far ahead which caused him to stand there helplessly, mouth half opened as he waited for eloquence to flow from his lips.

Emerie seemed to understand, reaching for his arm to squeeze gently. “Just give her some space, alright?”

Space. “Yeah,” he agreed, throat tight. That was the last thing Azriel wanted to give her. Every inch of him was on fire, screaming that he needed to just explain himself, which had never truly been his forte. Neither were relationships, though. How fitting that it would end before it ever truly began?

That was his luck.

Azriel tried to find some enjoyment during the wedding. He shared another drink with Rhysand and Cassian and danced when they asked him to, feigning joy as though he felt it. It was easy enough to put on a facade, slap a smiling mask on his face, and spin Feyre drunkenly around the room while Rhys glowered from his perch on the wall. Azriel had almost found peace with Emerie’s advice until he saw Gwyn slip out of the room for the hall. He followed silently, well aware she didn’t realize he was there until she pushed open the door of the single bathroom and he caught it just behind her.

“Az,” she breathed, swallowing like she was scared. Azriel stepped into the room with her, hand reaching for the knob behind him while she pressed further in. The women’s bathroom was nice. The men’s was fine, though it smelled faintly of urine, but in the womens there was a full length mirror, a plush red sofa, and a backlit mirror.

“I need to go to the bathroom—” 

“Just…” Azriel’s eyes closed when the door to the toilet closed. A better man would have taken that for what it was and walked away, but he knew if he didn’t tell her how he felt, he never would. He’d bottle it up and let it haunt him at night, like so many of his other past failures.

“I know I fucked up. I’m sorry, I…” he swallowed, certain he sounded drunk and too much like Jonathan for his liking. “He shouldn’t have called you a bitch.”

She opened the door, her own eyes suspiciously glassy while her cheeks and nose were bright red.

“I’m not mad,” she whispered, arms wrapped around her frame. Azriel’s blood went cold. “I just think…maybe I need to be alone for a while, Az. To figure myself out.”

“Figure yourself out,” he repeated. She was ending things, then. He wanted to die. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as Azriel shook his head.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said, heart thundering loudly. “Take whatever time you need. I ah…I’ll be around if you ever…”

Fuck, he didn’t know. 

She nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I know.”

Azriel turned to leave, needing to breathe air that didn’t smell like her. He didn’t know what caused him to stop, the words tumbling from his lips before his brain managed to catch up.

“I’m in love with you, and I’ll wait,” he heard himself say, taking himself by surprise. A sharp inhale of air came from Gwyn, though he didn’t dare look back at her face. He was certain it would shatter him.

Azriel stepped out and took his own shaky breath of air.

It was time to go home.

[darkmarkmarauder]

Sibling War - Riddle Family Affair

The Riddle Manor had seen many battles—duels of power, wars of ideology, the clash of darkness and light.

But nothing—nothing—was as violent as the rivalry between Delphini and Mattheo Riddle.

"You absolute dumbass! You took my broom without asking, and now it's snapped in half!" Delphini shrieked, brandishing the broken remnants of her prized Nimbus 2001 like a murder weapon.

Mattheo, sprawled lazily across the velvet couch, didn't even look up from flipping his dagger between his fingers. "Relax, Del. I’ll get you a new one. That thing was ancient anyway."

"Ancient? Ancient?" Her voice climbed an octave, dangerously close to shattering the chandelier above. "That was a collector’s edition, you half-brained, ego-inflated, insufferable—"

"Oh, here we go." Mattheo groaned, rolling his eyes. "Merlin’s balls, you’re such a drama queen. Maybe if you weren’t so busy obsessing over a stupid broom, you’d actually have a life."

Delphini launched herself at him.

Mattheo barely dodged, leaping over the back of the couch as she swung the broken broom at his head. He laughed, dodging her second strike. "You really think you can take me, little sister?"

"You absolute prick—"

Marvolo sighed from his seat by the fireplace, flipping a page in his book. "You know Father is going to kill you both if you destroy the sitting room again."

Delphini hurled a hex. Mattheo dodged, and the spell obliterated a marble bust of Salazar Slytherin.

Marvolo just sighed louder. "And there it is."

"YOU’RE PAYING FOR THAT," Delphini screeched.

Mattheo smirked. "Make me, baby sister."

The house shook as another hex exploded against the walls. The family tapestry burst into flames. An entire bookshelf rattled, and somewhere, a window shattered.

And then—

The temperature dropped.

A sharp, suffocating chill filled the room, and the lights flickered out. Every candle in the manor snuffed out at once. The only sound was the heavy, deliberate click of polished shoes against the marble floor.

The hairs on the back of Marvolo’s neck stood up.

Mattheo and Delphini froze mid-duel.

From the darkness, Tom Riddle emerged.

His robes billowed behind him as if he were some ancient shadow made flesh. His gaze was slow and deliberate as it raked over the ruined room—the broken bust, the smoldering tapestry, the shattered window.

Neither Mattheo nor Delphini moved.

"Would one of you," Tom’s voice was silk stretched over steel, "like to explain to me why my home currently resembles the aftermath of a war zone?"

Silence.

A pause.

Then—

"Delphini started it," Mattheo said immediately.

"You unhinged, gaslighting bastard—"

"Enough." Tom didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.

The air thickened, pressing down on all three of them like gravity itself had turned against them.

Delphini swallowed. Mattheo shut his mouth.

Marvolo, wisely, stayed out of it.

Tom folded his hands behind his back. "You will clean this entire room before dinner. You will repair every inch of damage done to this house." His voice lowered to something far more dangerous. "And you will do so in absolute silence."

Delphini opened her mouth.

Tom’s gaze flickered to her.

She snapped it shut.

"Good." Tom turned, his robes sweeping behind him as he left the room, leaving nothing but cold fear in his wake.

The moment he was gone, Mattheo exhaled, rubbing his face. "You’re so lucky he didn’t Crucio us."

Delphini shoved him. "You’re so lucky I didn’t Crucio you."

Marvolo just flipped another page. "Idiots."

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

a/n: I changed my font guys, IDKKK I liked the old one it just made me copy and paste my writing into a font changer and then have to paste it onto here and it just took me forever to get anything done. also I found it a lot harder to read bc the font is bolded so im gonna try this out, maybe I’ll go back but idk 😭 I like this font so far it’s easier on the eyes

[kodamaghost00]

𝑰𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖,𝑽𝒊𝒌𝒕𝒐𝒓?

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧ *✧･ﾟ: * *✧

Fandom: Arcane 2021 (NETFLIX ORIGINAL)

Pairings: Viktor x GN!Reader

Genre: Long-lost Friends to Lovers, Fluff

Summery: After you thought your Best friend died you reunite with him after 12 years of being apart.

Warnings: Loosing close people, Death, Fights, Spoilers EP3, Emotional, Slow burn, forced to move on fast

Word count: 2,4K

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧ *✧･ﾟ: * *✧

“Viktor! Viktor over here, look at this!!” You are around 11 years old and call out for your best friend. He walks over to you as fast as he can. “What’s going on, Y/N?” He asked cautiously, but then looked at what you pointed out. “I’ve never seen something like that before…”. Now you both stare at a little bug crawling around in the dirt in front of you. You and Viktor watch the bugs and animals around you all the time, but this one... you’ve never seen it before. It had short legs, but the colors were beautiful. “Do you think it’s a new species?” You chuckled. “Well, maybe it is. What shall we call it?” He smiled at you softly. “Hm. I’ll name it sooner or later!” You two watched it crawl away. You stood up and helped him to do the same.

“Let’s go home you look tired…” He just nodded, and you both made your way to the small shed you called home. You both laid down facing each other. “Viktor? Do you think we’ll make it big one day? To the topside, I mean.”. He thought about it but responded calmly back to you, “I know we will. With my brain and your brawn, we make a pretty good team.” You chuckle. “That’s right. Goodnight Viktor…” "Goodnight, Y/N…” and with those last sentences, you two fall asleep.

*BOOM* Something exploded, and your little shed crumbled to pieces. Everything burns, there’s smoke everywhere, you can’t see anything but call out for Viktor. There’s no response. You try to free yourself from the remains of what you called home once, but you’re trapped underneath. There’s no way out. You are in so much pain that you black out. There’s nothing, only darkness. Then the memories of the happy day before came flooding back, and you violently woke up, tucked away in a cozy-looking bed.

“Where am I?” You ask cautiously. Looking around for any enemies you could encounter, the only thing you see is a large man with a beard. "Oh, you’re awake, kid. How are you?” He came closer, and you flinched away. “I’m not your enemy, kiddo. I’m here to help you.” He said reassuringly as he handed you a glass of water to drink. “What happened? Where’s Viktor?!” You asked, looking around to find your best friend again, but to no avail. “Viktor? You’re the only one I found. I’m sorry.” You started to cry, and he came to hug you. You cried on his shoulder for a while until you calmed down. “Do you want to stay with me? I assume you don’t have family here.” You nodded quietly and held his hand, not wanting to let go. Then another man came into the room. He was big and scary-looking but had a rather friendly aura. "HAHA, Vander is gonna be a dad now? That’s something I never thought was possible!” The man shouted. “Shut it, Benzo…” he said, rubbing his nose bridge. You only giggled at that, maybe your new life won’t be that bad after all.

From that day on, Vander was like your dad. He taught you how to fight. How to defend yourself. How to protect the ones you love… You didn’t even notice the 12 years that went by. Now you basically have 4 younger siblings. VI,Powder,Mylo and Claggor. You were the best role model for them, and they looked up to you. You trained with them and taught them valuable lessons. Especially VI, she was young and naive, but you knew that she only wanted the best for your family.

Then the tragic day came. Silcos people attacked you guys, and not only Vander, your beloved father, but also Mylo and Claggor died during that incident. You fought with them, but to no avail, the shimmer was too powerful. You got hit badly by one of silcos men, you didn’t know what happened to VI and powder before your body gave in and you blacked out. “Is that what happens again…? I don’t want to die. I don’t want them to die! NOT AGAIN!” The next thing you know is that you woke up in a fancy-looking hospital.

You woke up in shock and looked around, panting, “VI? POWDER?! WHERE ARE YOU??” Then someone calmed you down. “ You looked down at the creature that’s trying to help you. “A... a furball…?”. Heimendinger was amused by your comment. "Well, I wouldn’t say a furball, but that’s a fair assumption.”. He laughed. “Where am I? Who are you? Where are my siblings?!” You asked frantically, starting to panic again. “Calm down, young one. I’ll explain.” He took a deep breath as you went quiet again. “You’re in a hospital right now. I am the head of the council, Heimendinger. And your family…” he frowned. “Where are they?! My sisters!?” You asked in a demanding manner. “The chief enforcers told me you were the only one found alive… I’m sorry.” You were so shocked that the fact didn’t register at first. Then you cried. You were sobbing hysterically into your own hands. You didn’t process the fact that all your loved ones died. ‘Once again? I thought I got stronger? I wasn’t able to do anything…’ The pain was talking out of you, and you thought it should’ve been you, not your beloved family. Under your sobs, you managed to form one sentence. “What am I going to do now?” Heimendinger looked at you with the most heartbreaking expression anyone ever gave you. “If you want to, you could become my assistant. I already have one that’s been with me for a while now, but... I don’t think another one would hurt.” He said this to you while resting his hand on your shoulder. You looked at him again, not realizing what he said completely, but you nodded. The chance to help someone… you won’t throw that away. That’s what dad would’ve wanted, after all.

Heimendinger sat by your side for a long time before asking you something again. “How old are you, my child?” “I am 23, sir…” you responded hesitantly. You knew Heimendinger wasn’t a threat, but opening up to strangers was even harder now. “23… so young. Yet you had to go through all of the misery. I’m really sorry for you, child. I’ll leave now, we will discuss the more serious details tomorrow. Please take care!” He waved you goodbye and left the room. Now it’s just you. Alone. In a hospital bed in Piltover. All the events came flooding back, and you cried again. So hard that you cried yourself to sleep.

The next morning arrives sooner than you wanted. The sun is coming through the window, and with a clear sky, you sit up and pinch your nose bridge. “Such a headache...” you whispered to yourself. As you stretched out. You glanced at the nightstand beside your bed. “A letter?” You take the letter and open it gently, and it reads:

Dear Y/N,

When I came to visit you again, you were dead asleep! I didn’t want to disturb your peaceful sleep, so I decided to write this letter instead. I asked one of the nurses when you could go out again, and they told me you could go today. Talk to a nurse before heading out to my office later,alrighty?

P.S. . The clothes are also for you, so you blend in a little better.

In best regards, Heimendinger!

You chuckled at the fact that Heimendinger wrote you a whole letter just for you to sleep a little longer.

You still mourned a lot about your family, though, so it's understandable that you weren't the happiest. You put on the clothes he gave you and went out of the room to call a nurse, and one came rushing to you.

"H-Hey! You can't just stand up like that!!" She rushed over to you, helping you back to your room. "I feel better. Can I go now?" You ask, wanting to go out of here as soon as possible. "Oh, you're the one that heimendinger favorites... what's your name? So I can look you up in the system." She pulls out a device you never saw before. "It's Y/N". "Last name?" She was a bit confused. "Don't have one." You snarled back a bit. She looks confused but enters your name anyway. "Ah! Y/N! Wait a second!" She rushes out and comes back with a small bag in her hands. "Take one of them per day it's best if you do it right after breakfast." You looked at the bag suspiciously but nodded. "Thanks." And you're on your way out. "Rude..." the nurse whispered to herself.

You totally forgot to ask the nurse where heimendingers lab is, so you wander around the halls of the academy. “Why is this place so big…” You looked around and admired all the pretty painted walls, amazing wooden floors, and bright chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. When you were focusing on the big windows next to you, you ran into someone. "Fuck, I’m sorry… I should’ve looked where I was-“ you were cut off as you looked at the man in front of you. Tall, flawless brown hair and a cane. You stare a little too long, and he asks, “Are you okay?”. You nod “I’m sorry… You just remind me of someone who I was close with a long time ago.” He doesn’t respond until you ask something. “Excuse me, but where is heimendingers lab? I was supposed to meet him.”. He looks a bit surprised but points in one direction. With a thick accent, he says, “Turn left around that corner. It’s the third door; you won’t miss it.”. You thank him and walk away. You can’t shake the feeling that this man you were talking to was Viktor. But no… He was dead, right? There’s no chance that he’s here…

You couldn’t think about it longer as you stepped into heimendingers lab. It looked scary but fascinating at the same time. “You wanted to see me, sir?” You say this as you quietly close the door behind you quietly. “Ah! Y/N! Just in time, young one.” He smiled as he stood up from his chair. A little horned furball barks at you happily. "Oh, you just missed my other assistant! He’s bringing us some papers for you to fill out so we can make your employment official!” He says he is smiling. He seems super happy that you’ll work with him soon, he has high hopes for your future.

Then Viktor comes into the room after a few minutes. And heimendinger brings you two closer. “Y/N, that’s Viktor, my assistant for years by now. Viktor, that’s Y/N, the second assistant that will work with us from now on. I hope you two will be a good team from now on!” Heimendinger says, and the room falls silent. “Y/N…?” Viktor said it with a shocked expression. “Yes Viktor?” You smile at him, and he lets his cane fall to the ground, running into your arms as best as he could. You knew that must’ve took everything within him... “I thought you died… I’m so sorry for not recognizing you earlier. You’ve grown so much I…” he said as His eyes widened, his voice shaking. "No, no Viktor… Please don’t apologise…” you say as you go through his fluffy hair, and you both have a very emotional moment. Heimendinger notices and leaves the room quietly. “I have missed you so much… I’ve been searching for you for so long…” you say softly, hugging him deeply as you missed him and partly for his support. “What happened to you that day?” He said this as he stood up straight again, stumbling over his own feet. You grab his cane and hand it to him. “How about we talk about that in peace later? We have so much to talk about…” you declared, but Heimendinger opened the door again and chimed in. "Oh, young ones, you can take the rest of the day off if you please…”. You wanted to protest, but he cut you off and sent you two away.

Now you both are on your way to Viktor's lab since you don’t have your own home yet. As you both walk next to each other, an uncomfortable silence is in the air, so you try to ease it a bit by trying to hold his hand. Just like in old times, he takes it gladly, and you both walk to his room. With a pink hue on his face, he closes the door behind you. “You have a lovely lab.” You try to start a conversation with something small. As you sit down on the couch he had in there, Viktor does the same and looks at you. “Thank you… I appreciate it. What happened that day, Y/N? I haven’t thought of anything else since that day… It’s haunted me ever since.” He says straight up, not wanting to let any more time pass. “There was an attack near our home. I called out for you, but you didn’t answer, so I thought…” You go silent, and he notices that you assumed he was dead. “I went to our home every day to look for you. I missed you so much.” You feel your tears well up. He suddenly spoke up. “One of the enforcers took me with them. The attack was so intense that I blacked out on the spot. Heimendinger raised me. I’m sorry that I left you like this…” You listen to him but nod. “I had a good family as well… but they…” You started to cry now, giving in to your emotions, and Viktor hugged you, noticing that you had lost important people once again… “I’m here now... I’m here for you, Y/N. And I will never leave again.” He pulls you in, hugging him even deeper. His presence is so comforting that you let it all happen. “We’re together again… that’s all that matters now…” he says caressing your hair, kissing your head gently. You leans his head on yours and burry your face into his chest gently. “Thank you, Viktor… I’ve missed you so much…”. “I think you should rest now… It’s been a long week for you…”. You nod and fall asleep on his chest. Quickly, before you fell asleep, you heard his voice saying one last thing that made your heart bump like crazy.

"Goodnight, Y/N… I love you.”

You wanted to answer, but your body caved in, and you fell asleep.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧ *✧･ﾟ: * *✧

A/N: Hello and thank you for reading this short story that came into my mind! It’s my first time writing out my thoughts out actually so please don’t be too harsh on me. I’m so excited for S2 and I think many of my fellow Arcane fans are as well. Have a great Day/Night and goodbye!