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#(<< was. physically assaulted multiple times)

sofmoth · 3 days

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Blood-Signed

this is 4 u @toxicanonymity ily i hope u like it♡

originally posted to AO3 by me (@sofmoth), link here.

‘the strangers’ man in the mask x reader

18+ ONLY. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED ON SIGHT.

HEED ALL WARNINGS:

DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. canon-typical violence including assault, murder, description of murder, graphic description of a corpse, graphic descriptions of major series character deaths and physical violence. dubcon/noncon, PWP, mask kink, size kink, breath play, dacryphilia, hair pulling, slapping, spit kink, implied scent kink, gagging, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected PIV sex (wrap it before you tap it), multiple male orgasms. minimal physical description of reader, reader is not implied to have a disability, reader is smaller than the man and small enough to be carried over-the-shoulder, reader is bound throughout.

i'll say it one last time: DEAD DOVE. DO NOT EAT.

(divider created by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more)

The world around you slowly comes into a blurry focus as your head bounces off an unfamiliar shoulder. Your cheek rubs against the coarse fabric of a jacket, the forest floor and the heels of a pair of boots the only things you can make out in the moonlight.

How did you get here?

It begins to come back.

Your boyfriend had surprised you with a weekend trip to a beautiful cabin-for-rent. Isolated in the middle of the woods, the closest neighbor nearly five miles away. It seemed like a fantastic idea, until that bitch in the doll mask showed up asking for "Tamara." And then the bitch in the pinup-girl mask, and the man wearing a burlap sack over his head. Dollface and Pinup were the only two to speak, until your boyfriend slit Dollface’s throat and you blew a hole the size of a baseball through Pinup’s forehead. That’s the last thing you remember; shutting that giggling cunt up permanently, then one solid heavy strike to the back of your head before the night became black.

You try to reach up to touch the back of your head, realizing your hands are bound behind you. The movement of the masked man ascending the three steps to the door makes your stomach churn, a thunderous bang announces the destruction of the lock as you’re carried in. He dumps you unceremoniously on the rug in front of the fireplace and you feel like you’ve fallen ten feet. You peer up at him through your hair, watch him sit heavily in a plush chair across from you.

His broad chest heaves, the strained sound of his breath cutting through the fabric over his mouth. The head of his axe gleams wickedly in the firelight as he taps it against the hardwood, mocking you. His head tilts, you can see him look to his right. You don’t have to look far before you see what he wanted you to; your boyfriend’s mutilated body, tied to a kitchen chair, knocked onto his side, blood drying on his face, pooling around his head and throat. His intestines pulled out, lying like dead eels on the floor. A whimper squeaks out of you before you can stop it. The Man rises, towering above you, dragging the axe behind him on the wood. It scrapes miserably, mockingly.

What have you got to lose?

“Did he cry? I’m not gonna give you that.” The Man’s head tilts once more.

“Did he cry like that bitch in the doll mask?” You watch his hand tighten around the axe handle.

“What about your whore in the pinup mask? Fucking loved blowing her brains out, the stupid cunt.”

He roars once as the head of the axe splits through the rug, into the floor, not an inch from your face. You can’t help it, you begin laughing wildly. One monstrous hand grips your hair, and he yanks your face up to look in his eyes as he kneels next to you. His blue eyes peer into yours, silent fury burning a hole through your skull. You take the opening, spitting at him and meeting your target. He slams your head against the floor, not releasing you. You groan, seeing stars. This is it. Finally.

The pace of his breathing changes, no longer over-exerted or stressed. It sounds exhilarated. He yanks you up by your hair again, into a kneeling position. You’re eye-level with the button of his pants. You peer up through your eyelashes at him, his calloused fingers stroking your cheek. You decide to push your luck, pressing your face closer to the fabric until your nose meets denim. You exhale shakily, open-mouthed, eyelids fluttering shut. He hasn’t taken it out, but you can tell it’s going to hurt when he does. You’ve made it this far. You stick out your tongue, running it over the fly. The Man’s grip on your hair tightens, he pulls you back as he deftly undoes the button and zipper, pushing the fabric down hastily.

Jesus Christ.

You weren’t wrong. His dick is huge, thick and heavy as it rests against your face. You allow a small moan to escape at the sensation of the heat and his flesh, blinking up at him as he pulls your head back again.

“You want it? I won’t bite you. Hard.”

You gasp as his palm connects with your cheek, spots overtaking your vision as the salt of his skin meets your tongue. You whine around his girth, jaw aching at the intrusion. Your throat burns as your nose meets the thatch of brown hair at the base of his cock, he holds you there until you gag before mercifully backing out an inch. Your reprieve is brief; he fucks your throat relentlessly, your eyes rolling back as saliva runs down your face onto your neck.

The Man’s breathing becomes ragged, he forces his entire length into your mouth a final time. His cum is hot, salty, nearly burning your throat as the seemingly unending ropes of it coat your tongue. He yanks your head back again, holding your mouth shut with his free hand. The hand covers nearly half your face, almost cutting off the air supply through your nose. You swallow roughly, breathing heavily as he looks down at you.

He shoves you down onto your stomach, no longer in your line of sight. You whimper at the feeling of his fingers between your thighs, biting down a moan as he tugs away the gusset of your flimsy pajama shorts, fingertips ghosting over your bare cunt. Your face feels hot and you moan openly as he pushes two of the thick digits inside, barely allowing you four thrusts before inserting a third. Your back arches and you try to push against his hand, his other hand presses your hips down into the rug, restraining you further. He removes his fingers suddenly, and you gasp as your shorts are practically ripped off your body.

You feel the Man climb over you, his massive shadow cloaking you, breath hot in your ear. He inhales deeply near your ear, exhaling raggedly before yanking your hips into the air. His fingers thread into your hair, and you hiss as he touches the same spot he hit you not an hour earlier. The head of his cock drags through your folds once, a yelp bursting from your chest as he forces his entire length inside. You’re given no time to adjust, body aching as he fucks into you at a punishing speed. One hand grips your hip, the other holds your head down against the rug. You’re certain you’ll have a massive bruise and carpet burn on your cheek, but as your eyes roll back and the Man’s groan fills your ears you can’t find it in yourself to care.

Better bruised than dead.

Your knees begin to sting and you whimper. You hear the Man growl behind you, gasping as he suddenly pulls out and flips you onto your back before shoving his cock back inside in one fluid motion. You moan raggedly, cut off by his hand on your throat. He holds it with ease, half of your neck engulfed. Your back arches and your vision begins greying, unable to pull in a breath under the force of his grip. You feel yourself weakening, muscles relaxing involuntarily. You’re ripped back by another hard slap, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. He leans over you completely, holding your face in place.

His stare burns, breathing labored as he brutalizes your cunt. The thought flitters through your mind that you won’t be able to walk for a week once he’s done with you. If he decides to let you go. You push that thought away, focusing instead on just how full you are. Your legs are spread so far it hurts, barely making enough room for the Man’s own pelvis between you. His pace begins to falter as he shoves two fingers into your mouth and down your throat. You gag around them and he growls, somehow fucking into you even harder and faster than before.

A few tears spill down your cheeks and the Man openly moans, hips slamming against yours aggressively with one definite thrust. He forces his fingers down your throat again, growling in your ear as his cum spills inside you. You whimper around his fingers, he removes them slowly and rubs the wet digits over your cheek. He pushes your head to the side, away, and pulls out quickly. You swallow hard, staring up at him as he stands and refastens his jeans. He flips you onto your stomach once more and you hear him pick up his axe. You allow your eyes to close, preparing for what you know is to come.

Instead of the bite of the axe into your neck, or skull, you feel him grab the rope binding your wrists. He tugs your hands up, cutting the rope away with ease before dropping them. You don’t dare move, listening as the sound of his footsteps grows more distant. You glance at the door; the Man stands with his back to you, head barely turned in your direction. He fills the doorframe, and you watch as he grips his cock through his jeans before walking out. You lay on the floor until you hear the rumble of his truck’s engine, sitting up slowly. The shift makes his cum begin to leak out, dripping onto your thighs and you whine to no one, legs clenching together.

As you watch the headlights fade in the distance, you wonder if he’ll be thinking about this as long as you will.

#the strangers fanfiction #the strangers one shot #the man in the mask x reader #MDNI #18+ only #fanfiction #fanfic #pwp #pwp fic #horror fic #horror fanfiction #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #lil gift fic

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immaturityofthomasastruc · 1 day

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Honestly I still legitimately hate how cannon had Lb try to ASSAULT Chloe for *checks note* accusing her & chat of abusing their powers and helping an Akuma overthrow the mayor.

Like all she did was just prove Chloe right by trying to silence her through physical force, well technically further right as she and Chat did willingly assist Akuma in her goal.

(The post these two anons are referring to)

Okay, let's be fair here and try to give Ladybug the benefit of the doubt.

Even if Ladybug doesn't know the truth at the moment, Chloe is still a willing ally of Monarch, and has helped him multiple times ever since the end of Season 3. In addition, Ladybug's Lucky Charm did point out Chloe was the true threat at the moment. Even in regards to the whole yo-yo thing, there's a chance that Ladybug might have been trying to non-violently restrain Chloe instead of cracking her skull open like a coconut.

That being said, even if we take all of this into account... what the hell was Ladybug's plan in the first place? If Ladybug was going to take care of Chloe non-violently, how would she give up? Would Ladybug try to reason with Chloe? Would she try distract her long enough so Cat Noir can take care of the robots? What about the Lucky Charm? Was Ladybug planning on using that to deal with Chloe, or was the crown just a warning to retreat? Seriously, what was Ladybug planning here?

And the worst part is that the next episode acknowledges that if Ladybug and Cat Noir beat up Chloe and put the fear of God in her eyes, it would only make their reputation worse. Was this meant to follow up on the attempted attack last episode? It doesn't matter, because that was what they ended up doing while Chloe had conveniently gotten akumatized later on, removing any guilt or consequences the two could face for assisting in another government coup.

#immaturity of thomas astruc #iota #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug salt #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #adrien agreste #cat noir #chat noir #chloe bourgeois #queen bee #queen b #queen mayor #gabriel agreste #hawkmoth #hawk moth #monarch

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inafieldofdaisies · 12 hours

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OC Action Tag | Tagged by @icecutioner @rhettsabbott @theelderhazelnut @raresvtm

Rules: mark what applies to your OC(s)

Tagging, @socially-awkward-skeleton @strangefable @strafethesesinners @aceghosts @voidbuggg

@voidika @purplehairsecretlair @cassietrn @imogenkol @carlosoliveiraa

@shellibisshe @direwombat @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @harmonyowl

@trench-rot @dumbassdep @thesingularityseries @simplegenius042 @finding-comfort-in-rain

@derelictheretic @g0dspeeed @simonxriley

@cloudofbutterflies92 @tommyarashikage @gearvmac and anyone that would like to do the tag <3

#lou is leading the tag today <3 #cal and his many shenanigans; colorized #tagged <3 #oc: eloise “lou” morello #oc: calahan hartley #wip: in hope of tomorrow #oc tag game #oc tag #fc5 ocs #far cry 5 oc #fc5 deputy #far cry 5 deputy #character reference #character background #character analysis #tag game

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basilpaste · 10 months

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my least favorite ship dynamic of all time has GOT to be bully/victim. i would rather read the most graphic dead dove shit possible than read a bully/victim fic.

#im talking SERIOUS bully/victim not like. 'hey im a cold jerk to you sometimes'#i mean like. 'ive physically assaulted you multiple times and verbally harass you often.'#basil blabbers

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butwhatifidothis · 1 year

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Is it bad that when I got to the last point on your Ch 58 about Cornelia showing up and stabbing Dimitri, I honestly thought for a second you were joking? And I had to go to the chapter to confirm it?

I mean, I’m fine with the idea of what Cornelia says (it would make a neat AU or twist on canon in a vacuum) but she just… shows up, in the middle of two enemy armies, just to… brag? And then kill Demitri so once again, a main character can be killed by someone else besides the ‘heroes’? I. Wow. Jeralt was one thing, but he was at least killed by the same faction if I remember right-

LMAO YOU THOUGHT I WAS PULLING Y'ALL'S LEG

No, it's definitely true - Cornelia does in fact pop up at the conclusion of the fight just to alleviate from Woobiegard the act of killing Dimitri herself.

Now, mind, Dimitri is still alive by the end of that chapter, but spoiler alert Cornelia does kill him in the next one. And Cornelia and Thales themselves just kinda... exist to be threats? But not threatening.

Thales is lauded as this mastermind giga genius who has spies and and eyes and ears any and everywhere and that's why Woobiegard just totally couldn't tell anyone anything about what he was doing... but also she'll just, like, punch him in the face. And face no repercussions for doing so. More than once. He has spies everywhere that can look like anyone, but apparently, um... doesn't know that his spies can shape-shift? According to Kronya? He brainwashes his spies for all of their lives to do what he wants, but also the brainwashing can be completely erased from one singular conversation. He's the leader of Agartha and rules it with an iron fist and the culture is rife with ideas of hatred and vengeance and it's been like this for (presumably) centuries, but also literally everyone not a bigwig can completely reject everything they ever knew because One (1) resident told them that Thales is Cringe. He's the one wearing the pants of his and Woobiegard's partnership and Woobiegard has to act submissive towards him... as he has to ask her to use the Death Knight... and needs her okay to use his men alongside hers... and needs her to consent to using Aymr instead of, like, I dunno, blackmailing her into using it by force or something? Y'know something a bad guy that's threatening would and could do?

Cornelia, in a double-edged sword kinda way, both benefits and loses from not ever being really a thing before the later chapters - there's literally no build-up for her being the one to end up being the bigger threat than Thales so it comes out of nowhere, but there's also nothing to contradict to "make up" for that. But even then she still somehow manages to be contradictory - she was distraught at the death of Thales, but did literally nothing to try and stop it despite her escaping Woobiegard's side from a slight distraction doing more than enough to show off that she very much could have helped Thales during that moment. She has all these golems and all this magic, but then kinda just... gets captured? Somehow?

They're there to suggest the idea that there is something Woobiegard ought to be wary of, but they never actually do anything in the story to prove that they're something that needs worrying about. All of their competence and fear factor that Woobiegard feels about them is left in their backgrounds; Thales conducted the experiments on Woobiegard, Cornelia helped instigate the Tragedy, and because of that they should be feared. But not for anything they're doing now - Woobiegard can Fortnite dance on their mother's graves and they still wouldn't do shit to her, because they never actually do anything to her. They wait until the very last minute to attempt to try something, and once they do Thales is immediately killed and then made into a literal joke. Cornelia only fares slightly better by Whack-A-Moling back into the story to kill Dimitri for Woobiegard, but that's about it.

So while it's HILARIOUS that you thought I was joking I honestly don't blame you for thinking that, because Thales and Cornelia are themselves jokes lmao

#ask #o captain my captain #it's the writing trap of ''I want my protagonist to look cool all the time''#Woobiegard can't be shown ACTUALLY struggling against Thales and co. and ACTUALLY losing to them #the one time ANY of TWS were ever shown to be a threat is... Myson when he successfully killed Jeralt #and then he's killed like the next chapter anyway so oops there goes the ONE person who managed to actually DO SOMETHING #like spoiler alert guys: if your protagonist can physically assault the villain multiple times and the villain doesn't do shit back to them #it's almost guaranteed that you've just severely devalued your villain's threat level #if your protagonist can thwart every single thing your villain throws at them? if your villain needs your protagonist's consent to do shit?#then i'm sorry your villain is barely better than a mob mook #sorry if this kinda drifted from your ask lmao but ye

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gay-jewish-bucky · 2 years

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this blog is vocally anti-p-ggy c-rter and her stans are not welcome here

her fans make up 99% of the antisemitism i face in this fandom and I refuse to compromise my comfort for people who defend a woman who not only willingly worked with nazis (the same nazi she knew captured bucky's unit, experimented on and tortured him and who was the reason bucky fell from the trian) but is also nearly entirely based on a nazi spy which they admit in the official book for the first season of her show (don't even get me started on how many inevitably begin defending irl nazis to try and make her seem innocent)

i (apparently shockingly) believe there is 0 level of nazi a character can be based on and still be a good person

i also believe she is an insult to the captain america legacies and is symbolic of the very same complacency steve rogers was created to fight

#don't even get me started on her physically assaulting steve multiple times or how she unlawfully detained and tortured a suspect #among many many other actions that are inexcusable #but she gets away with bc you've been brainwashed to thing she's feminist #when the white ''feminist''/girl boss ''feminism'' she represents upholds white supremacy (you can look that up #personcole

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ferociouscharm · 8 months

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Asking potential jurors their thoughts on Izzy Hands will be one of the most important questions in jury selection in domestic violence cases by the year 2035.

#I joke but Izzy haters really just need to take the L and reevaluate and apologize for the harm they’ve done #yes his and Ed’s relationship is toxic mutually toxic #but Ed physically assaults Izzy multiple times in the 1st season but Izzy is painted as the sole aggressor

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steveslevis · 13 days

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i love you, it’s ruining my life

azriel x cassian's sister!reader - part 2 of 3

summary: Rhysand sends you on the mission to Windhaven alone, and things do not go as planned.

warnings: mentions of violence/blood, poison, mentions of previous assault and past trauma, Azriel being oblivious and upset again

word count: 5.5k

Windhaven, the place you once called home.

Now the place you avoided at all costs, the place where you lived through your worst nightmares and recollected them every single night while trying to sleep in the hell hole of a cabin you were going to be staying in for the night.

You tried your hardest to forget about the night that would haunt you for the rest of eternity, tried to will it from your memory, tried to put up an obsidian wall around it to lock it in.

But there was no forgetting what happened to you, not now, not ever. There was no trusting a male fully ever again, all thanks to the Illyrian customs.

Cillian was the first and last male you ever trusted. He gained your trust, made you fall in love with him, then ripped you to shreds, mentally and physically. The only male you ever trusted was the same one who lured you into that wretched cabin alone and held you down with a knife.

I love you, he had whispered in your ear all those years ago while pinning you to the floor, your wings spread as the knife pressed against one of the central tendons, I just have to do this so everyone knows you’re mine. So you can be a normal Illyrian female.

He was mere centimeters from clipping your wings when Rhysand heard your silent cries, busting into the cabin, making the wicked male scramble away in fear of what might happen to him.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep at all during your stay in the camp, but it was probably better that way. That way you could stay on guard all night, that way you could watch your own back. You had to prove to Rhysand and the rest of the Inner Circle that you could be treated like a grown female, that you were willing to do anything for the Night court.

There wasn’t much time when you arrived at the cabin, you had to set your bag inside and leave almost immediately, heading towards Lord Devlon’s hall for dinner.

As much as Devlon hated your brother, he had nothing but respect for you. That might be partially due to the threats you’d set into his mind a few hundred years ago, or the fact that you’d beat him during training multiple times, but the reason didn’t matter. It was more beneficial for you to be the one to show your face in Windhaven this time around and you knew that, regardless of how much it made your stomach turn. It was important that someone from the Inner Circle came to Windhaven every once in a while under the guise of making sure the camp was still in order, so this was the perfect opportunity to gain important insight as well.

So you sat at the long table for dinner, chatting with those around you in the most civil tone that you could. You couldn’t bear to eat in all honesty, just the thought of having to stay in the cursed cabin for even eight hours for sleep was enough to make you lose all appetite. So, you opted for pushing around some potatoes and meat on your plate all while chugging down four glasses of faerie wine throughout the two hours you were there.

You coincidentally sat to the right of Cormac during the meal, who had Balvard sitting on the left of him, making it almost too easy for you to infiltrate their minds and figure out their foolish plan. The two of them were under the impression that they would be able to take out Devlon with a faebane dagger and control the camps with ease. It made you scoff to yourself when you discovered that neither of them had a backup plan, as if that was going to work out so smoothly for them.

The remainder of dinner after finding out the information you needed consisted of you bantering with some of the Illyrians you had grown up next to, ones who had turned into great warriors through training at Windhaven. The sun had been set for hours by the time you made your way back to the cabin, setting up some wards as you stepped over the threshold.

Exhaustion hit you almost immediately upon changing into your sleep clothes, eyelids heavy as you relaxed onto your side in the large bed next to the fire you’d just lit. You’d assumed you would be wired at this point, you’d planned on not sleeping at all due to the fear instilled deep in your bones.

You cuddled into the blankets, the familiar scent of your old home giving you an eerily comforted feeling passing through your gut. Solace filled you once you threw up a final shield around the small cabin, setting you at ease to know nobody could come in unless you let them in.

Before you knew it, you were fast asleep on the bed.

You awoke a few hours later, disturbed by the noise of the front door swinging open. Your body felt paralyzed in the moment, lethargy taking you over as you slowly turned your head towards the noise. It felt like everything was moving in slow motion as you watched the two males stalk through the door, unable to react in any way as your eyes trailed up to see Cormac and Balvard stepping over the threshold. The smirks on their faces told you everything you needed to know about what was about to happen.

You wracked your brain for how this could’ve happened, how you were immobilized by these two lowly, evil men in front of you, how you fell into their trap so easily, and how the hell you were completely unable to use any power or energy in this moment.

Faebane.

How could you be so foolish? You should’ve known better than to drink the wine so freely at a table of men you barely knew, especially after infiltrating Cormac and Balvard’s minds and discovering they wanted to use the same fucking poison on Devlon.

“Stupid female.” Balvard spat at you as Cormac inched closer to you, hand reaching out for your ankle. “You really thought you could come here, infiltrate our fucking minds to find out our plans, and just get away with it?”

You couldn’t speak, it was like someone was pressing down on your throat as you tried to breathe, there had been some gloriella in your wine, too, you were sure of it. Your body was pulled from the bed and flipped over in one swift tug, you were thrown onto the floor in an instant.

Images of Cillian flashed through your mind as your helpless form was pushed onto the floor, images of his wicked grin that matched the ones both of the males in front of you were wearing currently.

A silent tear slid down your cheek as Balvard spoke, but you couldn’t hear his words. He was still rambling on about how stupid of a female you were, and how you deserved nothing but pain after what you were planning to do to them, but you tried your hardest to drown them out.

There was nothing you could do at this point, as Balvard held your legs down, as Cormac pinned your wings with one large hand while the other pulled a sizable knife from its sheath. There was nothing you could do but close your eyes and hope that it would be over soon.

You had never felt this helpless before, not even when Cillian had pinned you down. At least then you were able to fight back, at least then you had a shred of dignity and pride left, at least then you hadn’t been so foolish as to let someone fucking poison you.

You cursed yourself internally as you squeezed your eyes shut, pain rippling through your body at the first slash of the knife against your wing. The first cut was against the base of your right wing, a long slash that would take months to heal, if it ever did.

A prayer to the Gods repeated itself in your mind as you felt the blood trickle from your wing and onto your back. Your heart ached as the silent tears flowed, wandering to the furthest corners of your mind as you tried to think of anything aside from the pain that was being inflicted upon you. It took everything in you to realize that you had a sliver of power still running through your veins, just enough to call out to your daemati brother, Rhys.

As you shot a quick thought down the bridge of Rhysand’s mind, you were met with a welcoming talon of power. You could feel his concern as you pushed one-worded thoughts to him to get his attention.

Everything alright, sister? He questioned through your mind, urging you to let him see what you’d experienced in the last twelve hours with a kind caress of his power in your mind.

You only had enough power to cry out silently to him, Send help, please. Your mind was closed to him as quickly as it had opened, everything went dark on your end as your energy ran out and you were blinded with even more pain, throwing you quickly into unconsciousness.

The next thing you remembered was waking up to the sound of wailing and begging from behind you, the two men who had you pinned down minutes before were thrown against the wall as their High Lord took pleasure in tearing them to shreds in a slow and painful death. The cries came to a sudden halt moments later, Rhys growing tired of their begging as he decided to shatter their minds and put you out of your misery as quickly as possible.

“R–Rhys–” you sob once their cries stopped, unable to do anything aside from lift a weak finger to point towards the man in the doorframe.

The High Lord’s gaze turns from one of pure rage to one of a worried friend once his violet eyes flick toward where you lay in the middle of the cabin. He takes in the sight in front of him slowly, your pained expression and tear-stained cheeks There’s blood pooled around your midsection, drenching your sleep shirt as you pant in pain on the dusty wooden floor. One of your wings looks fractured in multiple spots, while the other one is mangled from the beginnings of a mutilation.

The sight made Rhysand shudder with anger, fists tight at his sides as he slipped into your mind in order to understand the extent of the situation you found yourself in. You let him in without resistance, unable to hold any kind of mental shield up anymore.

They were going to clip your wings, take away the one thing you had to remind you of your mother, take away the one thing you held so dearly, take away your ability to fly. They were going to make you into the ideal complicit Illyrian female before wiping your memory of the entire night, which he assumed from the extremely prohibited memory tonic rolling on the floor next to you.

Rhys was glad he’d shattered the two traitors inside and out once your memories were collected, realizing how ruthless they had been with you moments before he stormed in.

“D–Don’t tell Cassian.” you plead, eyes focused on Rhys as he took another step into the cabin.

Your pleas took Rhys back to that fateful night all those years ago, the night he found you in this same room, sobbing in the middle of the room after being defiled by another Illyrian male who he nearly ripped to ribbons in the same exact spot where Cormac and Balvard laid in the corner, the male who fled from Windhaven the next morning, likely from threats from Rhysand himself.

Four hundred and fifty years ago was when he vowed to protect you like his own sister. You had begged him that night not to tell Cassian about what he’d seen, the vulnerable state the situation had left you in. The two of you had even made a bargain that night, that he would never be able to reveal the truth about what happened, so long as you remained loyal to him and his family, which he knew you would do regardless.

Four hundred and fifty years ago he promised to be the one to look out for you and make sure you were protected in situations you knew your brother’s unadulterated rage couldn’t handle.

And now, four hundred and fifty years after that fateful day, he’d failed you.

Rhys gave you a sympathetic look, opening his mouth to speak in response to your request, but was interrupted by your brother pushing through the doorway past him. Cassian nearly tripped over his own two feet at the sight of you, stomach churning when he saw your mangled wings slumped on the wood over your limp body.

“Don’t look, Cass.” you beg your brother as he stares at you with wide eyes, knowing the sight will spin him into a fit of rage. In your dazed state, you could see him beginning to seethe at the possibilities of what could’ve happened to you, his breaths quickening at the thought.

Before Cassian can reply, Rhys slips into his mind. She needs her brother right now, not the Lord of Bloodshed ready to avenge her. Let’s get her back to the house before you make any rash decisions, we can come back and rip whoever else deserves it to shreds once she’s safe.

Cassian chokes on a breath as Rhysand tries to reassure him that you’ll be alright. It takes everything in him to compose himself, but he does it for you, his twin, his fiery sister who he’d take an ash arrow to the heart for.

“I can’t—can’t feel—“ you choke out, squirming and groaning in pain as Cassian picks you up from the floor. “My w—wings. I can’t feel them. Did they—they take them away?”

Your pained words strike Cassian like a dagger to the heart, tears welling up as he thinks about how much pain you had to be in.

“No, I promise. They didn’t take them away. They’re–they’re still there, Y/N. It—It’ll be okay,” your brother says in a stern tone as he chokes back his own tears, eyes wide as he watches you struggle in his arms while walking through the cabin’s front door. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

It sounded almost like he was trying to convince himself that it would all be okay as he shot into the sky with you curled up in his arms.

You were in and out of consciousness the entirety of the flight back to the House of Wind, babbling nonsense as Cassian tried to keep you stable in his arms.

The entire Inner Circle was already at the house when Cassian landed, an air of worry carrying through the group as they saw the state of you, more specifically the state of your wings.

Rhysand immediately called for Madja upon seeing the extent of your injuries, and ordered Cassian to take you to your room and to keep you awake until she arrived.

Cassian was up the stairs in a flash, Feyre and Mor on his heels as he rushed to your room, with Azriel quietly following behind them. He laid you on your side, your bloodied wings spread across the bed as you curled up near the edge of the large bed. Your eyes landed on Feyre as he stepped away, a dazed smile spreading across your lips as you reached out a hand for her.

The High Lady gives you a small smile in return, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, which were filled with worry. She grabs your hand, squeezing it gently as she begins to tell you something that you really can’t comprehend over the ringing in your ears.

After a while of her speaking to you and you babbling nonsense in return, you try to sit up abruptly. Both Cassian and Feyre are on you in an instant, pushing you gently back onto your side, quickly telling you that you need to lay down and stay there.

“What is it?” Feyre asks quickly, gripping your hand as you easily give up and fall onto the bed, “Is something wrong, do you need something?”

“Az…” you whimper, fighting the urge to fall asleep right then and there, “W—Where’s Azriel?”

The shadowsinger had been outside the door keeping watch, but his shadows had been listening in on the conversation within as well. The shadows curled around his ear, whispering your name to him, telling him that you requested him, so he silently strode in when he heard. Your tired eyes lit up at the sight of him in the doorway, hand slipping from Feyre’s to weakly beckon him over to you.

Something about seeing you in this state tugged on his heart, tugged on it so much it felt like it was going to rip from his chest. He couldn’t deny your request for him to come closer, not when you looked so desperate and in so much pain, not when his absence in Windhaven was part of the reason you were in this situation in the first place.

He made a mental note to ask Rhys who did this to you as he made his way over to the chair Feyre left for him to sit in, wanting nothing more than to show them what Truth Teller could do.

Azriel’s hand fell next to you on the bed and you immediately rested your own atop his, grinning widely as what felt like delusion set into your bones. Shadows twined around your fingers while the others skittered across your wings as if to soothe them.

“They may—may not be able to save my wings, Az.” you choked out, a bitter giggle coming out as you spoke.

“I’m sure Madja will be able to heal you right up, Y/N. You’ll be better in no time.” Azriel assured you, but he wasn’t sure that was entirely true. “She’ll be here any minute.”

“I—I don’t even care. I just—just need my mate.” you say abruptly while shaking your head, voice barely above a whisper now as you stare at the male, glassy eyes meeting his sharp yet confused gaze.

“Mate?” he replies with a furrowed brow, lips drawing into a frown at your words. He was wondering if you even knew what you were saying at this point, if you were just saying whatever came to your disoriented mind.

“Mate.” you say a little louder this time and the whole room is silent as you reach out for Azriel, your shaky and blood-crusted hand coming up to stroke his cheek. “My mate.”

Your eyes fluttered close with those words, a smile on your lips as you’re overtaken by sleep in the moment. Your hand falls from Azriel’s cheek and onto his lap, and that’s when he feels it. That’s when he feels the shadows of his mind clearing, bringing that band of golden thread to the forefront. A band of golden thread that was tying his soul to yours.

Before Azriel could process the situation unfolding in front of him, Cassian was pulling him from the chair so Feyre could tend to you once more. The High Lady tried to wake you, but nothing worked. Thankfully, Rhysand and Madja rushed into the room mere minutes after you became unconscious, immediately going to work on getting you back to consciousness and ready to be healed.

Cassian tugged at Azriel’s shoulders as the whirlwind began, trying to drag him into the hallway. The shadowsinger resisted, standing behind Feyre as he watched you closely. You awoke immediately when Madja began to tend to your bloodied wings, the sensitive membrane torn to shreds. A cry escaped your lips as she gently worked on them, as Feyre tried her best to keep you in one spot while Madja worked her magic.

Azriel watched with wide eyes, rage rippling through his body as he watched you writhe in pain. He wanted nothing more than to take away your pain, to make sure nobody ever hurt you again, to keep you safe with him forever.

Your brother continued to try to move Azriel from the room, knowing it wouldn’t end well if he continued to watch you writhe in pain as Madja made quick work of healing you. He continued to resist, shoving Cassian multiple times before Rhysand breached his mind, stopping him in his tracks.

I’ll make sure she’s okay. He spoke to Azriel in his mind, staring him down as he squeezed your hand, beginning to take away your pain. She’s safe with me and I’ll take away whatever pain I can, but we need you to leave before you do anything stupid. The bond is too new and who knows what you’ll do if you continue to see her like this.

Azriel straightened against Cassian’s grip, nodding at Rhys as he silently assured him that you would be okay. Eventually, he let your brother guide him into the hallway, noting the glamour Rhysand had added to the bedroom to drown out your cries as Cassian closed the door.

It isn’t until he steps into the hallway that he’s finally able to fully comprehend what just happened. That’s when guilt and fear and pain wash over his body, stinging his chest all at once, right down the bond.

“This–It’s my fault.” he says, falling back against the wall opposite to your bedroom in the hall, his legs unable to hold him up anymore. “I–I could’ve fucking stopped this, I should’ve been there, I should’ve known that this would happen–”

“Woah, Az.” Cassian interjects, reaching for Azriel’s shoulders once again. “You and I both know how stubborn she is. She would’ve refused to go if you were going, and you know it. She thought she had to prove herself to Rhys, just like she always does.”

“I should’ve just–Fuck!” Azriel yelled, shoving his hands into his hair to tug on it roughly out of frustration, “I should’ve fucking sent my shadows, I could’ve seen their plan, I–”

“Azriel.” Cassian interrupted once again, grabbing the shadowsinger to get his attention. “Would you shut up for one second? She would’ve torn those shadows–and you–to shreds if you did that. She’s still under the impression that you fucking hate her, Az.”

Azriel let out a shuddering breath at the thought, a whirlwind of emotions taking over. His mind was racing as he thought of you in the next room, how his shadows couldn’t even infiltrate Rhysand’s glamour to see if you were alright. None of it made sense, you deserved more than him, you should be with someone who actually could keep you safe.

“How long have you known?” Azriel pressed, stern gaze on Cassian as he finally let go of his shoulders.

“Az–”

“How. Fucking. Long.” he insisted, blue siphons flaring with power at his wrists as he reached for your brother.

Cassian sighs, shoulders sagging in defeat as he looks to the helpless man in front of him. “Two–Two years.” he’s quiet as he speaks, voice wavering in fear of what anger the fresh mating bond could bring out of his brother.

“You’ve known for two fucking years?” Azriel seethes, gripping Cassian’s leathers tighter as he growls, “how fucking dare you–”

“I couldn’t tell you and you know it, Az.” Cassian says, releasing himself from Azriel’s grip.

“You’re my brother–”

“And she’s my twin, my real fucking blood sister. I couldn’t betray her like that.” he interjected, shaking his head at the shadowsinger. “She would’ve torn me to shreds, then came for you next. You should know that nobody should interfere with a mating bond, you had to find out from her.”

Azriel took a deep and shaky breath at his words, knowing that Cassian was right in every sense of the word to not tell him for all this time. Eventually he nods at Cassian, deciding that words probably aren’t his strong suit at this moment, he didn’t want to say or do anything he’d regret later.

“C’mon, we should go somewhere else to get your mind–”

“No.” Azriel snarled, shaking his head firmly as his shadows swirled at his shoulders, siphons flaring with that ultramarine power once again. “I need to stay here, to see that she’s safe.”

There was something damn near animalistic in Azriel’s eyes as Cassian gazed at him. In that moment, he knew there would be no getting through to the shadowsinger, not when his mate was on the brink of death on the other side of the door.

Cassian nodded slowly at him, watching carefully as Azriel finally let go of his shoulders. The shadowsinger’s own shoulders sagged and he leaned to rest on the wall behind him, while trying to calm himself. He needed to be in that room, needed to see you, needed to hold you, but he knew there was no use in trying. Not even his shadows could slip under the door to check on you, Rhysand had glamoured the whole room to high hell in order to keep him out and to keep your healing as uninterrupted as possible.

He knew it would take hours, maybe even days before that door opened again, but he didn’t care. He’d stay right there waiting for that lock to click and that glamour to fall just so he could see you again.

And so wait he did.

He waited one hour, which turned into two, which turned into four, which turned into eight.

The wait was so long that Cassian eventually pulled two chairs out of his bedroom so they could sit, and the House nearly forced them to eat some stew that was placed upon the empty chair Azriel refused to occupy.

He only paced, mind racing with thoughts of you, of how he couldn’t feel you any time he tried to tug on the bond. He wasn’t sure how the mating bond worked, how much a glamour could mask it or how your unconsciousness would affect it. Every time he tugged on that golden strand in his chest, he felt nothing on the other end, just resistance that he could only assume was from the inability to fully reach you.

Each unsuccessful tug only drove him closer to insanity, closer to clawing down the door between the two of you to see if Rhysand was truly the reason he wasn’t able to reach you or not.

Just as Azriel was on the verge of another outrage, after waiting for nearly ten godsdamned hours, your bedroom door’s lock clicked. Both Cassian and Azriel’s attention whirled to the door, only to see Feyre standing at the door frame. The door was barely cracked, just enough to see her face, hiding the commotion behind her, hiding the sight of you behind her.

The moment the door opened, a wave of nausea flowed through Azriel’s stomach, the smell of you, the smell of your blood reaching his nose immediately.

The High Lady held out a hand as Azriel took a step towards the door, ready to push her over to finally see his mate.

“She’s waking up now,” Feyre interjects, giving the shadowsinger a stern look that tells him to behave, “she might be really confused right now, she’s been in and out of consciousness for a while so who knows what she really remembers. Be gentle with her, she may not remember what she said before you left.”

Azriel stands up straighter at the High Lady’s words, nodding sternly at her command as Cassian stands at his side finally. Both take a moment to compose themselves while she pulls the door open, revealing the room behind her at last.

The room is in much less of a disarray than they’d expected, likely thanks to a simple snap of Rhysand’s fingers. The only blood to be seen in the room is on your wings, which is currently being wiped away by Madja as you stir slowly.

It takes everything in Azriel not to run up to your side right then, to push Mor from the chair next to you, to take your head into his hands and kiss you and never let you go. But he holds back, waiting for you to finally wake from your sleep.

Your eyes flutter open a few moments later, a wave of confusion washing over you as you do. The last thing you really remember is being picked up by Cassian, off the floor of that Gods forsaken cabin. You really don’t remember how or when you made it back to the House of Wind, or what actually happened to you. At this point, judging by the shooting pain in your back, you weren’t sure if you wanted to remember what happened to you.

Your brother’s name was the first thing to fall from your lips, your weak hand reaching out for him with a watery smile. Tears filled your eyes as he took a step toward you.

“You’re a stubborn little shit, you know that?” Cassian said with a bittersweet smile, eyes flickering between your bruised face and your tattered wings.

“Gotta keep you on your toes all the time,” you rasp out, a small laugh from you finally filling the tense air.

Cassian sat next to you, talking to you lowly as he tried to keep things light, tried to keep your spirits up after he caught a glance of how mangled your wings were, how ruined they might be.

You barely noticed the shadowsinger standing behind him until a shadow skittered across your stomach, trailing to your bandaged wings to survey the damage. It wasn’t until then that you stopped to look at him, to see how stoic he looked while staring at you. His face paled, his jaw clenched as he stood silently at the foot of the bed.

“Are you here to mock me, shadowsinger?” your voice interrupted his thoughts, finally making him look up to meet your eyes.

Azriel’s brow furrowed at your words and Cassian tensed at your side. He only shook his head, an apologetic look crossing his face as he opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by you.

“If you’re here to tell me how I should’ve just sucked it up and gone with you, how I’m only a weak female and I can’t handle missions like this, I don’t want to hear it.”

Oh. Oh, no.

Realization struck Azriel in an instant, you didn’t remember anything about what you’d said to him. He tried to tug on the bond, a sympathetic look in his eyes as his heart lurched for you, but felt nothing.

The pain tonics, they mess with the bond. She cannot feel you, brother, Rhysand said to him wordlessly, watching quietly from the other side of the room, she does not know that you’re reaching out to her, she doesn’t know that you know.

Azriel felt like he was going to vomit, he couldn’t handle it anymore. He couldn’t go another minute without you knowing that he knew. But he knew better, he knew better than to throw this on you while healing from something so severe. So he looked at you once more with a calm and stoic expression, into your fiery eyes, knowing you were putting on a show of hatred just for him.

“I wasn’t going to mock you, Y/N.” Azriel said matter-of-factly, shaking his head at the thought, “I was only going to tell you that I hope you feel better soon, and that I am sorry, for everything.”

Your stern gaze wavers for a moment, confusion crossing your once stern face at his last words. Before you could retort, he was rushing out the door, leaving one shadow behind to keep watch over you.

He thought you needed space, that you needed this time away from him to heal fully before he threw his heart at you, before he confessed how in love he’d been with you for so damn long.

So he left. Left the House of Wind immediately, deciding that you were better off without him for now.

But he missed the tear that slipped from your eye once he fled the room. He missed the way you were tugging against the bond as well, the golden strand too clouded by the tonics and poisons running through your veins to reach either side.

He missed the way you let out a small sob at his absence, fully recoiling into yourself as you thought that the only male you wanted couldn’t stand to be with you for more than two seconds.

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#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #azriel angst #azriel x you

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