#is it like gods and minor gods or both of that and then also fae where its just like sometimes there a dude who is not normal ???

[pcktknife]

what is....the difference between legendaries and mythical pokemon ?

#legendaries ive noted are usually the ones on the box art like reshiram kyogre koraidon and are plot relevant god like for many #but arceus is a mythical? i guess if its chillin in fuck knows where having its kids handle things it wouldnt be seen which is what #mythicals are more like right? so rare and unseen theyre usually only heard of in and thought of as myths #i dont wanna have to read ever individual legend/myths bulbapedia article but i was def in the middle of doing that b4 i left #is it like gods and minor gods or both of that and then also fae where its just like sometimes there a dude who is not normal ??? #im trying to understand this is real world terms #kae.txt

[theeveninghour]

All My Dreaming

Summary: You came to the Night Court as a fugitive and quickly became a valued member of the Inner Circle. Azriel’s love for you has burned brightly in his chest for nearly two centuries now, but when an unknown force threatens to take you from him, he must fight to keep you at his side.

Pairing: Azriel x Winter Court!Reader

A/N: I don’t use Y/N here just out of personal preference, but the IC do call reader “Little One” because she’s younger than them by like a century or so. Also, slight timeline deviation? I kind of just made the ACOTAR timeline work for me a little bit but the important bits are there mostly. If it’s not totally accurate, please suspend your disbelief and go with it. I also took some serious liberties with Prythian geography and Azriel’s shadows in this. I had to force myself to stop because I could’ve written five more scenes, so let me know if you all want a part two. I got nasty Azriel thots to spare, baby! 

WC: 16.1k  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TW: 18+, Minors DNI, violence, death, descriptive gore, lots of time jumps, torture, smut, p in v, fingering, porn with plot, mating, slow burn, angst, friends to lovers, declarations of love, loving sexy times, miscommunications abound, Azriel being a big ole softie, Azriel being a big ole bitch to bad men, Azriel really going tf thru it emotionally, and Azriel being mouthy as fuck. Just girly things. 

Part 2

Azriel hadn’t seen you in four days. Nearly a week had passed since you’d left. Rhys mentioned a mission but no additional details, Cassian avoided the topic, knowing how frustrated his brother got when you were gone, and Feyre was decidedly unhelpful the few times he’d brought you up. His shadows searched aimlessly, they’d found nothing as far south as Winter Court, daring not venture into Autumn, and knowing damn well you’d never step foot into Spring. You were slowly driving him mad; the bond in his chest aching at the loss. Even if you hadn’t recognized the golden thread linking the two of you, he felt it. 

Gods, did he feel it. He’d often lay in his bed at night, eyes tracing the intricate foil patterns of the ceiling tiles. When sleep evaded him, as it frequently did, he’d grasp the thread tightly in his minds eye and tug it experimentally, begging you to see, to notice it was him that loved you with a ferocity that rivaled the sun. Try as he might, the responding tug never answered, his call into the void not returning an echo. 

The second it snapped for him, Azriel had resolved himself as unworthy, not of someone like you. You were powerful, breathtakingly beautiful, intimidatingly intelligent, and you regularly brought men to their knees, both in political circles and on the battlefield. Rhys relied on you as much he did Cassian and Az, you were a core member of his court, a valuable asset, and the love of Azriel’s life. Azriel avoided the latter subject entirely, choosing instead to silently stoke the ember in chest with unyielding affection; his own private paramour. 

When you’d joined the Night Court, you’d been on the run from both Winter and Autumn Courts. Your father was a high fae noble in Winter that had attempted to arrange a marriage to the second youngest Vanserra of Autumn. The family’s brutal reputation was legend and you were terrified. You were young then, barely a century old, and upon your introductory visit to the Autumn Court, Beron sought to make an impression by presenting a welcome gift. That gift? The public torture and execution of a servant he’d deemed traitorous. 

His gleaming eyes remained on yours with each cast of the fire whip he’d conjured using his cruel magic. He’d cracked it again and again until blood splattered and the servant was left flayed beyond recognition, flesh searing, and finger tips twitching from the remaining neurons firing in his brain. Only after his death did Beron announce his crimes. He’d stolen a parcel of food from the royal pantry to feed his wife and small child. Your stomach churned at the thought of the now widow and fatherless child waiting at home for the male that would never return. 

It had all been a test to see if you were worthy of the most violent and petulant of the broody sons, and you’d passed, holding Beron’s stare and keeping your back straight as you faced his wrath head on. You’d cried yourself dry in your room that night though, sobs wracking your form until your chest ached, grief for the male that was lost. Fear settled into your heart, terror of the family you were set to marry into. 

You’d ran at first light, leaving with nothing but the clothes on your back. Your Winter white blonde hair streaking across the red and orange forest as you bolted. Beron sent his dogs after you. You still had the scars lining your calves from where they’d gotten too close, brought you down into the dirt, jaws snapping and tearing at the muscly sinew there. But you’d fought. You’d kicked and clawed like a feral child of the woods, screaming with a sense of self preservation you’d never known you possessed. 

Rhysand had found you half dead, starving and a little savage in the mountainous border between the Day and Night Courts. He’d made a bargain with you then; he’d save you, if you worked for him. Word had already spread of the ousted Winter female and spurned Autumn princeling and Rhysand was impressed you’d lasted in the wilds undetected for so long. The small star flecked tattoo of the Velarian night sky that lived on your wrist since was the only evidence of his deal. 

You’d long moved past such a bargain. Rhys had offered to lift it half a dozen times in your first hundred years within his court, but you hadn’t minded. A reminder, you’d insisted, a mark of your loyalty to the family that didn’t lead you the wolves with such glee. 

You’d settled into a routine in Velaris, training with the Illyrian brothers and charming Amren with your intelligence and wit.  But you’d become the closest with Mor, who felt a kinship in your shared traumas. She’d soothed you in those first years, fiercely protecting her friend when Eris Vanserra had shown up in Hewn City as an emissary to inquire on your new position in the Night Court. It was that same night that Azriel realized how fucked he truly was.

Eris smirked at you and your back straightened, face growing cold. He spoke, “My brother was wondering where you’d scampered off to.” A laugh followed, “You couldn’t stomach our court, but found yourself bound to the Court of Nightmares? My my, what a wicked turn of events.” 

Rhysand had spoken then, wearing his High Lord mask well, “Watch yourself, Eris. You know not what our Little One can do.” Eris laughed, the sound laced with the dark spark of a threat. “Little One? Fugitive and Night Court whore, I must tell your father. I’m sure he’ll be proud to hear of his daughter’s fate.” Azriel’s wings pricked, then fluttered, he would’ve killed Eris right then for you. Your hand came to rest on Rhys’ arm as you stepped around the throne to level your accuser with a look that should’ve turned him to stone. 

“I am no male’s whore and I belong to no court except Night. Report what you wish to my father, to your father, your brother. May you all rot.” You’d spat at his feet then, and the room heated twenty degrees, Eris’ barely kept rage simmering under the surface, fire blooming on the fringes of his figure. 

He stepped forward and Cassian, Azriel, and Mor all shifted, prepared to take out the threat. Eris’ eyes tracked their figures, gauging the situation. He knew better. Any attack here would mean war on his court and his father have his hide for that. You stepped forward to meet him, knowing he could make no move without endangering his position. You kept your spine straight and narrowed your gaze at him with such contempt he would’ve been impressed at the show had you been anyone else. 

“I will say this once Eris Vanserra,” you held up one long manicured finger, and Azriel traced the action with thinly veiled obsession. “Leave my court or I will be the one to kill you. I’ll rip your spine from your body and I’ll do it with the same glee in which your father,” you’d spat that word, the hatred you held for Beron burning your throat as the words exited your mouth, “killed that male for feeding his family.” You took a step closer, summoning a dagger in your left hand, and rolling it your palm. “Trust that we have no tolerance for your family or your bullshit in these lands.” 

Eris had good enough sense to step back then, peering around your form to where Rhysand sat, legs spread, slouched in the throne, smirking at your display of dominance. Azriel to his right looked on in pure male satisfaction, you were a powerful little thing and he was rather fond of you in that moment. Eris spoke up, “Should I note that the Night Court threatens other Courts for sport?” Cassian and Azriel rolled their eyes in synchronous fashion, but it was Mor that spoke with the dark edge of a threat, “Only ones that deserve such brutality.” Her father, Kier, stood in the gathered crowd and sneered at the tone of her voice.

You’d done the unthinkable then, winnowing behind Eris, grasping the male by his red hair and dragging the dagger to his neck, digging in enough to cause the male’s heart to speed, a line of scarlet leaking from the press of your blade. You could feel the heat in his skin, the flame licked at your hand as you released him with a shove. 

You brandished your dagger as if it was an extension of your hand, the tip of the silver blade glinting with red from the now healing cut at Eris’ throat. “Come for me again and I’ll kill you.” It was then that Azriel noted the slight tremble in the hand at your right side and he wished on some distant star that he could reach out to you, soothe you, tell you that he was proud and you defended yourself and your court beautifully. 

As if his wish was granted, he felt his chest give way to a canyon of emotion, heart stuttering as the bond fluttered and snapped, thrumming with affection for the female standing at the center of the room. He had selfishly allowed himself to hope it would be you, in the dark of the night when he was alone and his shadows whispered to him of your whereabouts. Since he’d met you, he fostered that small romantic notion of soulmates. His most private desire. 

Eris whirled on you with a roar, grabbing your throat with hands of fire. Azriel felt the breath leave him, and he took two then three steps forward before he could think, hazel eyes alight with a fierceness you’d not yet witnessed. Your eyes found his and you held up your hand to halt his movements, the one that had trembled seconds earlier, now steady as a stone. You’d looked at Eris then, raising your chin defiantly, a slow smile overtaking your face as you once again spit at the Autumn male before winnowing back to your place in front of the dais. Rhysand raised to his feet then, taking steps down to meet you. His hand grazed your arm this time and his mind reached out, “Very good, Little One, very good.” 

“As the lady said, Eris, come to my court in search of her again, and she’ll be the one to kill you.” Rhys circled Eris, tracking like prey. “But not before I sanction it for laying your hands on a member of my house.” Rhysand spoke with such quiet cunning, it was no wonder he excelled as High Lord. Eris snarled then before winnowing out of the Hewn City and Azriel quickly set his shadows to following him, ensuring he was actually gone. 

You returned to Mor’s side and the shameless pride that set on your face the rest of the night made Azriel want to kiss you. Gods, he was fucked.. 

You’d flirted with him constantly in the first century you’d been in Velaris. You had laid it on thick too, dragging a long nail up his arm, your mouth sliding into a smirk after one too many drinks at Rita’s. Azriel had always feigned friendly indifference though, a mask he slipped on that was equal parts protection as it was self soothing. His only crack coming in the form of a slight tremble in his pinky as he tried to gather himself to avoid closing the space between you, touching, grasping, feeling.

He’d worn black leather gloves around you in your first few decades with them. His hands always held the most insecurity for him, the silver scars and warped skin a brutal reminder of his childhood. It was after training one day, as you all packed your small bags and threw towels into bins that you’d asked about it. 

“I don’t mean to pry, and feel free to tell me to fuck off, but why the gloves?” You asked quietly leaning against a wall less than ten feet from him. He’d stiffened and breathed tightly, “it helps with the work.” That had always been his excuse, wearing gloves when killing helped reduce the touch memories associated with the act, and it was partially true. But he wasn’t on a mission right now, and you called him on that, “are you spying right now?” Your lips quirked, “should I tell Rhys?” Your words were mirthful, but your eyes held nothing but empathy for the Shadowsinger, sometimes Azriel wondered if that was your Cauldron blessed gift. 

You’d reached down then, rolling up the left leg of your training leathers. You’d resumed your full height and rotated your calf outward for his eyes to survey the damage there. Ragged silver keloid scars marked the skin from your ankle to the soft back of your knee— a knee he’d admittedly fantasized about many nights in a row now. He’d selfishly thought about trailing kisses up your leg, pausing to nip playfully at the soft skin at your knee as he made his way north, up your thigh. He breathed deeply banishing those thoughts as he took in the site of your marred skin. Judging by the heavily keratinized markings, the injury had no doubt been painful when incurred originally. Azriel’s fingers twitched again, wanting to touch your face, hold you as he kissed away your grief. 

“From Beron’s dogs,” you breathed, rolling you shoulders, as if shaking the memory from your mind. “They wouldn’t heal when I was out there,” you clicked your tongue, “granted I was starving,” you sighed, “but that’s a story for another day.” You looked at him then, and he had to steady himself at the emotions pooling in your eyes. 

He’d already planned on killing Beron if the opportunity presented for what had happened with Mor, but for you, he’d make it hurt. He’d drag it out and make it slow. He’d torture him for days, flaying skin from bone, taking fingers then limbs and when at last he begged for death, Azriel would set the dogs on him and laugh as they tore him apart. He felt a long repressed need for vengeance creep up his spine, and he hated to acknowledge what its presence meant in regards to you.

“It’s okay, you know,” you’d said, head lolling to the side as you watched him, eyes swimming with a gentle affection, “I’ll never judge you for something like that.” Azriel squeezed his eyes shut as he turned his head from you and breathed in tightly. How did always manage to be so fucking disarming and vulnerable? That must’ve been a gift too.

He pinched the middle finger of the right glove and pulled it from his hand, grasping his now exposed fingers into a fist, knuckles cracking. He extended that arm out, palm up as he let you view his deepest insecurity, the thing he hated most in his appearance. 

You’d stepped forward, looking at his palm. Your hands went to reach but you’d paused, looking to his eyes as you silently asked permission to touch. He nodded stiffly, watching you with the same intensity of an animal being hunted, prey ready to bolt at any moment. 

Your fingers touched his hand, and he felt the connection race up his arm and to his chest, settling in his heart. Your eyes studied, and you rotated his hand, fingers gently tracing from his wrist, to knuckle, to fingernail in reverence. You covered his hand with your own, moving your eyes to his hazel ones. “Are they dead?” You’d asked seriously, and he stuttered a shocked laugh. “Yes, Little One, they are,” he answered, a small smile playing at his mouth. The two of you far too similar it seemed. “Good,” you’d said simply before kissing his knuckles and pulling the glove back on for him. The action was quietly intimate, and Azriel should’ve kissed you then. Mother knows he considered it, eyes watching you with rapt attention as his heart sped up and breathing shallowed. 

“If you two are done flirting, lunch is ready,” Cassian announced from the doorway, breaking the spell you were both under. You’d jumped and laughed freely at the large male smirking at the entrance. You grasped Azriel’s hand tightly in affection before releasing it to turn on your heel to exit the room, passing by Cass with an eye roll, thumping him square in the chest.

Cassian looked to his brother as he walked into the room and his face split into a shit eating grin. “Let’s go, loverboy,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. Azriel glared, scoffing as he followed behind you, praying to whatever Gods were listening that he’d get you alone again soon. 

In your second century with the Night Court, you’d lessened the blatant flirting and settled into loving, easy friendship. You regularly attended balls and galas in Hewn City, fitting into such pomp with practiced ease, but always with a dagger strapped to your thigh, ready to cut a male down in seconds. Those events were almost routine at this point: Azriel would save you a dance, and you’d move together in a slow ritual that you’d both perfected over the years, he’d bow as the violinist played their final note and resume his place on dais at Rhys’ right. His eyes would follow you the rest of the night, as you spoke in an airy manner to various high fae, glaring at any male whose hands ventured too close to his mate. 

Nights when the Court held parties at the House of Wind were different though. You were far less rigid, finding it easy to exist without scrutiny. Those were the nights Azriel’s eyes rarely left your form as he watched obsessively from the corners of the room. 

“You’re staring,” Rhys chimed from his place next to Azriel, eyes not leaving the crowd as he spoke to the Shadowsinger, mouth smirking. Azriel was staring. You’d worn cobalt blue tonight, a lovely color on your skin. His color on your skin. Mother above, the male possessiveness that crawled up his spine was unreal. Mate, mate, mate, his shadows had sang in his ear. He wanted to pluck the eyes from every male in the room for even glancing in your direction. He wanted so much more than that too. Your breathy sighs as he marked you, your moan as he made you come undone, his name crying from your lips as he ate his come from your cunt after. Azriel had a million and one scenarios running through his head. He yearned to make each one of them come to fruition too.

He hadn’t answered Rhysand, so the High Lord tried again, “you really should tell her, but please,” Rhys closed his eyes with a grimace, “quiet your thoughts first, for Cauldron’s sake.” That got Azriel’s attention, his back straightening and mental shield slamming down. His eyes squeezed shut, almost as if he was in pain. “I cannot burden her with that now,” he said, “not with war at our doorstep.” Indeed, the second war with Hybern creeped ever closer, disappearances of other high fae occurring daily. Whatever they were planning across the sea, it was going to bring Prythian to its knees. 

Rhysand sighed then, feeling older than his 500 years. “Be that as it may, we should hold those we love tighter.” Rhysand looked to Feyre at that moment, his eyes meeting his mate’s, as he sent a strum of warm affection down the bond. She smiled and returned it cheerily. He turned back to Azriel, “if it all ends tomorrow, I know my love and she knows me. That’s all we can ask for in this immortal life.” Azriel looked back to you, and your eyes were already on him, tracing the shadows that wound around his chest. You met his eyes and winked, before turning back to Mor and laughing freely.  

“I thank the Cauldron daily it was you that found her in those mountains, Rhys.” Azriel spoke quietly, admitting a small secret he’d not told anyone. Rhysand softened, and clapped his friend on the shoulder, “As I am, brother.” Azriel nodded, letting the conversation die between himself and the High Lord as he drained the drink in his hand and moved down the steps in your direction. 

You’d been in conversation with Mor when he approached. She was telling you of the seamstress she’d been seeing, and how happy she was. Azriel cleared his throat from behind the two of you and you turned to meet him, taking in his appearance with wide eyes. “Ladies,” he started, bowing to you and Mor, who snorted at the silly formality. “And that note, I’ll be taking my leave. I’ve got a lady to see,” she said with a wink and a flourish of her red dress. You laughed and shook your head before turning back to the Shadowsinger. He’d caught you staring earlier and your heart had nearly jumped into your throat, before Mor mocked you lightly, diffusing the tension. 

“Hi Az,” you greeted softly, before dropping your empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray and thanking them. Azriel watched you closely, noting the revealed skin that shifted with each movement, committing every angle and freckle to memory.

“You want to get out of here?” He dared ask, jerking his head toward the private balcony on the House of Wind. You raised a brow, Azriel? Asking you to leave? Together? You heart was back in your throat and you thanked the Mother that you’d taken your time getting ready that evening. Nodding, you grasped his arm as he offered it to you like a proper courtier. He walked the two of you up a round of stairs and away from the eyes he’d threatened earlier in the night. Voices dulled the more space you put between yourselves and them and you couldn’t help but start to sweat a bit at the thought of being alone with Azriel. 

You’d been friends for nearly two centuries, but you’d always felt a connection with the male. Your heart thrummed with a warm, golden affection when he got close. It made keeping a clear head during training hard. It made sitting next to him at dinner difficult. And when he’d looked at you like you hung the moon as you danced earlier in the night, it made you want to take him to bed and ride him until he moaned your name. You breathed deeply. ‘Focus,’ you chided yourself, ‘he is your friend, for Cauldron’s sake.’

He led you out onto to the balcony and stopped at the railing before looking up at the star flecked sky. “This is my favorite part of the House,” he said eyes scanning the sky before looking back to you as you watched him. A blush crept up his neck, before he cleared his throat again. 

“I’ve always wondered what it was like to be able to fly, you know,” you said quietly, removing your hand from his arm, rolling up onto your toes, leaning against the stone railing, and looking out on Velaris before scanning your eyes up to the three stars that shone brightly overhead. “When I was a child, I met a Peregryn from the Dawn Court and thought she had the most beautiful wings I’d ever seen.” You chanced a glance his way, “I’d not met an Illyrian yet.” You reminded with a smirk, bumping his arm with fondness. Gods, he was in trouble.

“I asked her what it was like and she said it was the purest sense of freedom possible.” You glanced down at your feet, “I spent the next year wishing for wings.”  He mulled on your words. He wanted to say something cheesy as Cassian would, like ‘I’ll be your wings’ but he couldn’t, so you continued on. 

“When I was a little older, I witnessed a blue skinned lesser fae’s wings ripped from his body as punishment and it was the most gruesome thing I’d seen at that point.” You took a shuddering breath, “I cried for him that night. The lost freedom. How maddening it must’ve been.” You looked at him then and he watched you with furrowed brows. “How does it feel for you?” You asked softly, eyes tracing the shine of his wing. ‘Magnificent things,’ you thought. You remembered seeing his wings for the first time and thinking the Peregryn had finally moved to second place in your mind. 

Azriel had to gather himself as he spoke, “It’s… everything.” He said quietly adjusting his body to extend a wing. “My ability to fly came in late,” he said, and your eyes widened, you hadn’t known that. “My childhood was… rough and I didn’t learn to fly until I was nearly grown.” He laughed, scuffing the toe of his boot, wings folding in behind him. “It was a lot of crash landings those first months.” You snorted, mental image of a younger Az, landing in a puddle of mud crossing your mind. 

“I was never a proud Illyrian, not like the others,” he continued, “it was hard for me to reconcile my heritage and our traditions.” He looked to the cityscape then, “but the stronger I got, the more I understood why flight was so crucial to my people.” He looked to you, eyes shining, “it’s the closest we can get to the stars.” 

You leaned over the railing again, staring wistfully at the night sky, the moon reflecting on your skin. “Will you take me someday? Flying, I mean.” Did you not know Azriel would give you the world? Of course he’d take you flying. He’d give you the moon, the stars, walk through fire and back, anything. He nodded, “you say the word, and I’ll fly you the the ocean and back.” The smile that broke across your face crippled him, his knees threatened to give way. 

“Yours are my favorite,” you murmured softly, eyes glancing from his wings to his face. Azriel blushed in full, pink speckling his neck and cheeks as he laughed. “Don’t let Cass hear you say that, he’s got an ego,” he said, a smile remaining at his lips. You liked him like this the most. Loose, smiling, free. You reached up then, cupping his reddened cheek, thumb stroking. “I don’t care,” you said smiling, “it’s the truth.” Azriel swallowed roughly, staring at your eyes swimming with an emotion he knew, but was much too stubborn and scared to name.

Just as your hand went to retreat, he grasped it between his own. “You can touch them,” he offered, knowing damn well the implications, “if you want,” he added. Your eyes widened. Mor had mentioned once that Illyrian’s wings were ‘sensitive,’ was the word she’d used. It was a sign of great intimacy and trust to allow another to touch them. You felt the air shift between you two then, as you nodded.

He extended a wing toward you. This felt so much like the first time he’d shown you his hands all those years ago. Your hand crept forward and gentle fingers met the red gold membrane that stretched between two metacarpals. Your fingers traced the membrane in smooth circles, then traced up to the crest. Azriel felt his breath gutter out of his mouth in a loud, choppy exhale, and he felt himself harden at the sensation of your fingers against the most sensitive portion of his wings. You gasped and jerked away at the sudden noise, before apologizing. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten carried away.” 

Azriel shook his head, “It’s not that, they’re sensitive.” There was that word again, only it made you think of how they’d been shredded before the King of Hybern, and you opened your mouth to apologize again, but he stopped you short. “I haven’t allowed another to touch them freely since my mother.” The admission floored you, your gut giving way with a breath.

You looked to his eyes then, the air between you had shifted again and you knew this was it. This was the moment you’d waited for, he was going to kiss you. Mother, it felt you’d waited a millennia, and he felt just the same. But that kiss never came. Instead, Azriel went stock still, his eyes now on the House behind you. 

“Azriel?” You questioned. “It’s Rhys,” he said tightly, “he’s summoning me.” You understood then. He looked to you desperately, eyes a little wild and apologetic. “I’m sorry, I have to go to him.” You nodded, you both worked for the High Lord, you’d never get in the way of Azriel’s allegiance to his Court. “Of course,” you said quietly, taking a step back and swallowing down your disappointment. 

Azriel took three steps towards the entrance then stopped. “I’ll take you,” he turned around, backing his way to the arched stone, but keeping his eyes on you for a moment longer. “When I get back, I’ll take you flying,” he offered. Another smile etched its way across your face and Azriel took a long moment to memorize it greedily. “It’s a date,” you said confidently. He beamed then, turning on a heel to pick up into a jog, Rhys no doubt shouting to hurry up. 

That date hadn’t happened though. The second war with Hybern broke out days later and you both barely made it out alive. 

When Feyre had come to Velaris after Amarantha’s defeat, you’d accepted her with easy friendship. You saw Rhysand, your longtime friend, overcome with love for his newly found mate, and you couldn’t help but love her as well. You’d shared your story with her and the two of you bonded deeply over her art. She’d offered to teach you to paint, and you began taking lessons in your off time. Rhys had been Cauldron blessed with her and you reminded him daily. 

Later, when Feyre’s sisters joined their little unit, you’d been the first one to break Nesta’s tough exterior. The female saw parts of herself in you and you’d gotten her to crack a smile when you mocked Rhys’ High Lord voice at dinner one night. Elain had been a tougher sell, but you’d tried, along with Azriel, to bring the female out of her shell. The day she joined you in the library to read, you knew progress had been made, even if you two had only sat in silence a few feet apart, a small smile gracing her features. 

You left her book recommendations with small notes and she began to do the same. Your friendship playing out in the margins of the library’s tomes. You won her over with silent conversation. Nesta noticed, of course, and she looked to you with gratitude as she saw her sister’s eyes brightened and skin began to return to its normal, healthy color. The night Azriel mentioned it as you walked down the hall toward the dining room for the family meal, you’d shrugged. “I met her where she needed me to,” you’d said quietly, glancing to your feet. Azriel smiled, a Cauldron blessed gift indeed. 

Dinners at the House of Wind were by far Azriel’s favorite version of you. You’d laugh with abandon, smile splitting your face, showing every tooth as Mor cracked a joke and leaned against you for support, one too many drinks in her system. The first time he’d seen that smile, it blinded him, and he’d gone a little dazed, staring at you in wonderment. Rhys had interrupted his train of thought with an invasive insertion of “How quickly she reduced you to a puddle, brother.” Azriel had scowled at Rhys then, mental shields firming up, but not before he heard the distinct sound of his High Lord laughing at the Spymaster’s defensiveness. 

Indeed Azriel was gone for you. When Cassian finally confronted him last year about the truth of his feelings, Azriel saw no point to avoid it any longer, not after his brothers had also found their mates. “Our souls are one in the same, she’s my mate,” he’d said pensively, as if he was letting his deepest secret breath in the light for the first time in centuries. Maybe he was. He’d made Cassian promise on his life not to tell anyone, and despite being the biggest gossip in the Inner Circle, he kept his promise. He was thrilled for his brother, knowing you were the perfect match.

Little did Azriel know, everyone else was already more than aware of his affections. Amren had figured it out a century prior when Azriel had tended your needs as you’d recovered from an injury sustained during a mission. He’d fretted around you like a mother hen, buying you flowers, sweets, and books while you were bedridden. The female had watched and hummed with a raised eyebrow as Azriel exited your room for the fifth time in one day, wringing his hands with worry despite Madja’s clean bill of health.

Feyre had figured it out the same year she’d returned from the Spring Court, just before the second war with Hybern. She’d seen the way his eyes had followed you in the war room Rhys had created to host strategy meetings. Saw him lean towards you when you spoke, saw his wings flutter when you finally cast your gaze to him, eager for your attention. More than anything, she’d seen his shadows, desperate little things, sneaking across the floor each night, sidling up your ankles and wrists, begging for your affection. You always laughed and nuzzled them as the wound their way to your hair and Azriel went a little soft at the sight. 

When she told Mor, the blonde had laughed, “They’ve been circling each for two hundred years now, eventually one of them will cave.” Mor leveled a sardonic look at Feyre then, “and when they do, we’ll all have to relocate to the River House for a year lest we be subject to the frenzy.”

This mission should’ve been simple. Rhys had asked you to check out reports of rogue soldiers spotted making their way towards the border of the Night Court from the Day coastline. The intel he’d received had mentioned three to four maximum, all of them drunken ex-Hybern loyalists. It should’ve been a matter of locating them, spying for a day or two, then winnowing in to neutralize any threat. Gods, this was far from simple. 

When you’d arrived in the region, the hairs on your neck rose, the air itself feeling off. As you tracked them, you’d noticed intentional attempts to throw you off course. A carelessly trashed map, crudely laid tracks in the opposite direction, Dawn Court wine bottles that had been emptied and tossed about. They knew you were there, and you quickly realized that a trap had been laid. You backed off them then, staying further than you’d have liked, but trying like hell to make them think you’d given up. 

On your fourth night following them, you’d drifted away to an inn two towns over, desperately seeking a place to bathe and rest, even for a few hours. As you bathed, you felt watched in a way that discomfited you to your core, and your dagger stayed within arms reach the rest of the night. Suddenly, the role you’d played for the last two hundred years had left you entirely ill equipped for whatever was happening here. 

You’d left out before dawn, refusing to lose an ounce of daylight, but as you hit the tree line, readying yourself to winnow out, you’d noticed it. Hanging from a tree, a hundred yards away was a piece of clothing, your clothing. Clothing that should’ve been in the pack at your back. Your breath shuttered out of you as you opened your mind to Rhys, asking for back up. You were in over your head and you knew when to admit it. There was no pride in getting yourself killed. 

As you turned to move back to the inn where you could wait out contact from Rhys in a public location, you were met with a pair of shining blue eyes. You stepped back, keeping your grounding, readying for a fight. “You’ve been following us,” the stranger said calmly, beginning to trek in a slow circle around you. You opened your mind to Rhys again, “Help,” you called. Rhys answered this time, “Where are you?!” It was a frantic response, you never asked for help, Rhys knew this. “Just off the coast, beneath the mountain range, Day court border, 400 hundred paces from the inn” you spoke to Rhys in choppy thoughts, trying to establish a location before all hell broke loose. 

“I have,” you finally answered the stranger, whose lips quirked at your voice. He stopped circling and resumed his stance in front of you, blocking passage to the inn. “Why?” He asked and you tried to keep your mind steady as you answered. “You’re trespassers in these lands” you stated simply, shrugging a shoulder up. He grinned then, “had your lot not gotten in the way of our King’s plans, these would be our lands. We were promised them. I was personally promised the Court of Nightmares.”

“Well,” you shrugged feigning indifference, “that’s not how the war played out, so I will have to ask you to leave,” you offered in your most bored political tone. The same tone you’d used with High Fae that ran off at the mouth in Hewn City. The stranger cocked his head the side then, eyes twinkling, “I don’t think I will.” At that moment, one by one, additional soldiers appeared from the forest line. One, then four, then ten, until near twenty stood around you, looking on with hatred. 

Shit. 

“We’d hoped for the Illyrians, but it seems your High Lord sent us a treat instead,” the stranger said with mirth. You steeled your spine, looking down your nose at the stranger, “They’re going to kill you, you know.” He’d laughed at your threat. “I think not,” he said as as arrow was released from your left, finding purchase in your shoulder. You folded over on yourself at the blow, and looked up baring your teeth, before drawing your dagger and rushing the stranger with a feral sound.

Five more arrows hit you before your blade could find its target. One into your hip, two in your back, a fourth piercing your in your upper thigh, until the last burrowed into the back of your knee, bringing you down in front of him — forcing you to bow to the stranger. The arrows were laced with faebane you realized as you’d begun to feel its effects in your blood. Your power waning quickly, thoughts becoming murky. 

You released another shattered thought to Rhys then, “Tell him, please,” you begged raggedly. Rhysand came back with a rushed and tight, “Hold on, Little One, we’re coming.” You shook your head, there wasn’t time. “Tell Azriel I love him if I don’t make it, Rhys, promise me.” He responded but it muddled out, sounding like words shouted through a pool of water, then your brain fell quiet. The line severed. 

The stranger lifted your head, hand wrapped around your throat, as he bent to meet your crouched form. “I’ll be sure to savor this,” he smiled and the hilt of his sword came in fierce contact with your forehead. 

It was the early morning on your fifth day away when Rhys heard you. “Help,” it had come through so clearly that it startled Rhys awake and set his heart to racing. You’d only asked for help once, during the war when you were overrun and near death. You were in danger.

He’d sat up straight in bed, Feyre still sleeping silently at his side, hand resting on her pregnant stomach. “Where are you?!” He’d asked down the line, a little frantic, remembering the state he and Azriel had found you in last time. Gods, you’d been run through on a Hybern soldier’s sword, the damage was astronomical. Azriel had nearly killed everyone within a mile radius at the sight of you.

You recited your location in short bursts and Rhys focused on the bond of your bargain, using it to locate you with more precision. He reached out to Azriel then, “Get Cassian and meet me downstairs. Be ready to fly.” Azriel responded an affirmative and Rhys rushed around his room, grabbing his dagger lined belt, and using his magic to dress in his leathers quickly. He winnowed to the base of the stairs and was glad to find Cassian and Azriel waiting. 

“Tell him, please” you begged into Rhys’ mind then, words growing ragged. Rhys’ eyes slammed shut with a wince and he attempted to reassure you, “Hold on, Little One, we’re coming.” Rhys opened his eyes and looked to Azriel, who was watching him with anticipation. You responded again, words growing murkier, a little warbled. “Tell Azriel I love him if I don’t make it, Rhys, promise me.” Rhysand felt sick. “We will find you and you will tell him yourself,” he spoke but the bond was dead, silent, foreboding. Rhys thought he might vomit. 

He looked to Azriel again, “It’s her. She’s in trouble. We have to go.” Azriel’s face darkened with a thunderous ferocity. Mother help the males who’d harmed you. “Where?” He asked, voice deep with the threat of murderous violence. “The wilds on the border, off the coast of Day. I’ll winnow us as close as possible.” Azriel nodded his acquiesce and lifted a trembling hand to his hair, running scarred fingers through the strands. Cassian spoke then, “we will get her back,” he’d said softly as Rhysand put his hands to the two of them, preparing for the jump. “And we will kill every last one of them,” Cassian added darkly as blue-black shadows encased them and they disappeared. 

You awoke with a start, gasping like you’d been underwater. Your shoulders ached from your position. You pulled on your hands only to realize you were shackled to a tree somewhere deep in the forest, the same forest you’d been on the outskirts of earlier. You looked up to the sky, trying to find the sun to gauge how much time had passed. The sun had long moved past midday and was sinking towards the evening horizon. Your throat tightened. Where was Rhysand? 

“Nice of you to join us,” a voice spoke. It was the stranger again, he emerged from the camp set two hundred paces to your left, hidden by shrubs and underbrush. You got a good look at him this time. He was tall, leanly muscular in a way that reminded you of Lucien Vanserra. His hair was a dishwater blonde and lacked any sheen, falling in choppy dry waves around his shoulders. His face was gaunt, eyes sunken, bruised with a lack of rest, and his cheekbones were sharp, giving his face an angle that made him look harsh and unforgiving. Though he carried himself with confidence, you noticed a slight, barely there limp in his right leg, an old wound perhaps, one that never healed correctly. You noted that for later, if you ever got out of these shackles. 

You leveled a glare at him that you hoped looked more fearsome than you felt. Mother, your bones ached and your wounds throbbed. “I left the arrows in, but broke off the shaft. Didn’t want to have you healing too quickly.” He spoke with nonchalance, while polishing a dagger, your dagger, you realized as your eyes focused. You pulled at the shackles above your head, and the stranger chuckled at your attempt. 

“What do you want?” Your voice croaked, mouth dry from disuse. The stranger laughed, pointing the blade at you, “I want my fucking court and you’re the key to getting it.” You shook your head then, “I am nothing.” The words sounded foreign on your tongue, a lie on some level, you knew this, but you would be damned before you gave up your family. The stranger clicked his tongue at your response, shaking his head. 

“Surely you don’t believe that? The High Lord doesn’t trust easily, you’ve been seen with his entourage. The Shadowsinger’s whore.” He squatted a few feet from you, eyes tracing from your tied hands down to your face, pausing at your breasts, before trekking down your stomach, thighs, and calves. He was sizing up how much fight you had left.

Your brain had short circuited though, the Shadowsinger’s whore. Mother above, you’d never even kissed. How long had this male watched you and your family? How had none of you seen it? A bitter laugh wretched from your lungs, “sorry to disappoint, but the Shadowsinger isn’t mine.” No matter how desperately I’ve wished it so, you added silently. 

The stranger grinned then, “if you are truly nothing, then I’ll make this a little sweeter.” He took steps towards you, raising the dagger to rest at your chin, the blade pressing to the underside painfully. “You’re far too pretty to be nothing.” He ran the blade along the column of your throat, resting it against your sternum, between your breasts. You pushed yourself further into the tree, back protesting as the arrows burrowed deeper with the movement. You didn’t like the new angle this interaction had taken and your fight or flight instincts were screaming. 

You attempted to reach out to Rhysand, but the bond was dead silent. Your breathing hitched at the realization that you were truly alone in this. The stranger chuckled, dragging the blade down your chest, slicing the leathers, letting the fabric fall open and reveal your undergarments to his greedy view. Your legs moved to kick, but you realized quickly they too were tied. The blade came to rest at your bare stomach, and the stranger dug it in below the navel, causing blood to pool there. You winced, but made no sound. 

“Ah, I was hoping you’d be louder than that,” the stranger smirked, “I’ll have to try harder.” He backed up then and pulled a whip from his back pocket, unfurling it with a crack. Your eyes widened and you brain went silent, fear overtaking your senses. “There it is,” his smile gleamed with violent delight, “there’s the reaction I was hoping for.” He reared an arm back before cracking the whip in your direction. The leather made contact with your torso, a stinging slice appearing along your rib cage. You jerked, but bit your tongue.

He cracked it again and again until you were bloody, slices in your leathers, festering wounds along your breasts, ribs, and stomach. You’d counted to 25 lashes before your brain gave out and your vision blurred from the pain. You looked up to the sky wearily. The sun was gone and the stars were slowly appearing. You smiled at them, remembering Azriel’s words from that night all those years ago. 

You hoped he’d forgive you for not telling him. You hoped he’d understand your fear in revealing that secret, that the bond had snapped for you during the war. When that Hybern soldier’s sword pierced your armor, running through your body to the hilt, and he’d let out a fearsome bellow from across the field at the sight. You felt it then, the golden strumming taking the form of a fated thread linking you two. You been near death when he and Rhys had found you and the only thing you could do was smile. Such an ironic thing it was to die in the arms of your mate. 

Your head lolled to the side as exhaustion threatened to overtake you. “Azriel,” your thoughts ventured, calling down the bond he didn’t even know existed, “I love you.” Darkness swam in the corners of your vision but you swore you felt his responding tug. The Mother was kind for granting that hallucinative mercy in your final hours. Your body gave out, slumping against the shackles and darkness overwhelmed you. 

Azriel was furious. No, furious wasn’t the word, he was a walking time bomb. You were gone. His mate was missing and he was going to explode. As he’d arrived with Rhys and Cassian to the location you’d given them, he could smell you. His eyes searched frantically around the scene before him until they zeroed in on an item hanging from a branch a few dozen paces out. Cloth of some sort? He approached and could detect your scent on it, realizing quickly it was your clothing. A ripped cotton blouse. His fists clenched and he vaguely heard Rhysand speaking to his left. “They must’ve captured her here.” Rhys crouched down to the ground, two fingers swiping the dirt there, before bringing them eye level to examine sample. “Blood,” he muttered, rubbing the hand on the leg of his pants, “she was injured.” Azriel’s heart thundered, he was going to fucking explode. 

He set his shadows work, surveying the forest with rapid precision. They’d cover more ground this way, an army of three operating like a whole infantry. By the time the sun rose to midday, Azriel was ready to begin screaming. They trekked further into the forest, following a line of smoke that was miles deep, originating at a camp somewhere far into the wilds. His shadows murmured to him of a small band of males there, of you, shackled to a fucking tree, arrows buried in your back. He’d nearly lost the contents of his stomach at the information and set to a run alongside Rhysand and Cassian. 

As the three approached the encampment, the sun was nearing dusk. Rhysand had commanded the halt and strategize. There were roughly twenty-five men, all armed. They couldn’t enter this blindly and infuriated, they would lose if they weren’t careful. Azriel hated admitting he was right, his instincts screaming otherwise. Mate, mate, mate, his heart pounded. 

They backed off to a thousand paces out, close enough that they could hear if the troop vacated the premises. As Rhysand and Cassian spoke quietly, Azriel felt his heart thrum. The golden thread there had pulled him closer to you and he could tell you were still alive. Though Rhys couldn’t reach out through your bargain, Azriel’s bond was still alight and warm, he stroked it with gentle affection. You might not feel it, but Gods he would try. 

As the trio retraced their steps to the camp, stars were just beginning to light overhead and Azriel grasped his daggers tightly, knuckles cracking around the hilt. He was going to kill them. Kill them all brutally for taking you, for touching what was his. When they were within a stones throw from the camp he heard it, heard you. “Azriel,” you whispered into his mind. He went stock still, spine ramrod straight, fingers trembling as they gripped his knives. The golden bond vibrated in his chest, and he felt you reaching out through murky waters, against all odds. “I love you,” you said with a soft exhaustion before your side went dark. Azriel’s breathing guttered and he felt high on mirthroot, sick from fae wine, and enraged to the point of explosion all at once. His blue siphons flared brightly from the surge of power. He closed his eyes and reached out to you through the bond, tugging on the thread connecting your souls. He was coming. He was going to save you. 

Rhysand looked to him then, curiosity swimming in his eyes as he took in the Shadowsinger’s sudden stop. Azriel opened eyes, irises alight with fire and shadow, voice grinding with dark threat, “Let’s go.” Rhys nodded and Cassian drew his knives. 

They moved with brutal efficiency, killing male after male until none remained alive. Some had begged, others shouted and scattered their belongings as they set into a run. His shadows had caught them, twisting around their ankles and dragging them back to meet their fate, daggers slicing throats from ear to ear until blood poured like a prized hunt being slaughtered, the Illryian’s hands grasping and snapping necks like twigs. It was a practiced routine for the three of them, who’d trained since they were teens. 

As they stepped through the shrubs to find you, Cassian gasped and Azriel felt his lungs threaten to collapse at the sight. You’d been shackled to a tree at the wrists and ankles and whipped within an inch your life. Wounds glistened with blood along your thighs, soft stomach, ribs, breasts. There had to be thirty lashes. A knife wound was visible at your exposed navel. Your head hung forward unconscious and Azriel’s heart pounded. He wanted to vomit and his hands shook. 

“She said you’d come,” a voice said, emerging from behind the tree you were bound to. The male held a dagger to your throat. This new stranger had to be the leader of this band of idiots. Azriel’s eyes followed the tip of the blade up his arm to the male’s eyes and a growl escaped him as he bared his teeth. The male laughed, “to think she said she was nothing and yet I have both the Shadowsinger and the Lord of Bloodshed before me to save her.”

Azriel’s mind latched on to that piece of information, turning it over in his head. You’d told this male you were nothing? Did you not know Azriel would do anything for you? You were everything. You were his love, light of his life, keeper of his soul, his mate. How alone you must’ve felt, how scared. Azriel’s eyes narrowed, he was going kill him. 

Rhysand spoke then, emerging from behind the two Illyrian brothers, “And may I ask why you’ve abducted a member of my court?” He was in High Lord mode, tone bored, fingers picking at his sleeve. The Hybern male’s smile gleamed at the introduction, “just who I was hoping to see!” 

“Hybern, the old fool, made a few promises in his last days as King,” the male spoke, digging the blade down to your chest, where it rested over your heart. Azriel stared at the blade, eyes tracing to the the hilt. That was your blade, the one he’d given you when you first arrived in Velaris, the one you wielded against Eris, the one you kept strapped to your thigh. Your own knife had been used against you.

“One of which was that I would inherit these lands after your lot were annihilated.” Azriel wanted to laugh at the male’s words, was he serious? “A dead king cannot honor empty promises,” he ground out eyes shifting to the male’s blue eyes. “A dead and headless king cannot gift you shit,” Azriel spat. The male smiled then, a feline grin growing on his lips. “Precisely Shadowsinger, a dead king cannot give me my due, but this little thing can help.” You’d made a noise then, something akin to a whimper as you came to. Eyes wincing then fluttering open as your irises found Azriel’s immediately, some preternatural magnetism existing between the two of you. Then you looked to Cassian and Rhysand, and your eyes swam with apology.

“She awakens!” The male sang, looking to you. Azriel jumped at the opportunity to send his shadows out while the male’s attention was elsewhere. They traced over the ground to you, circling the tree and working at your binds. He sent two others towards the distracted male. “Who knew the Night Court was so attached to a whore,” the male laughed, “I want my lands,” he fixed Rhysand with a glare, “you can have your plaything back in exchange for my seat, High Lord” he sneered. 

Rhysand looked from you to the stranger to the shadow now creeping ever closer to the male. “You must be mistaken,” Rhys said then and Azriel’s shadows wrapped around the male’s neck and wrist simultaneously, whispering violence for touching their mate, forcing the dagger from his grasp and air from his lungs. Azriel tightened them until they heard bones crack in the male’s arm and choked sounds exit his throat, face reddening as oxygen was cut off. “I do not make deals with dim witted cunts,” Rhysand said darkness beginning to surround him, High Lord voice encroaching, “I do not entertain terrorists and I do not take kindly to threats on my family.” 

‘Finish him,’ Rhysand said darkly into Azriel’s mind and the Shadowsinger moved with lightening precision, dagger find purchase as the male’s neck was sliced open and his right hand was removed from his body. The male’s body toddled forward with a choked gurgling, before falling to the ground, lifeless, blood pooling.

Azriel’s gaze fell to you and he softened. His shadows finished picking the lock of the shackles that held your arms and they clicked open, allowing your body to fall into his. “Azriel,” you breathed, voice weary with exhaustion, “I didn’t— I—“ you stuttered, pulling a shaking hand to his face. You swallowed, tracing his cheek with trembling fingers, “I didn’t think I’d see you again,” you murmured, your watery eyes searching his face, memorizing the details of his visage.

Azriel picked you up in his arms and unfurled his wings protectively. “I will always come for you,” he said vehemently, eyes watching your face with intensity. You smiled, a weepy trembling smile as you nodded. Rhysand reached the Shadowsinger’s side then and your eyes moved to his violet ones, “Hi Little One, I’m so sorry we’re late.” You let out a single watery laugh before wincing as the sudden expansion of your chest burned the wounds littering your chest and back. 

“The arrows,” you gasped, “at my back,” you twisted in Azriel’s hold, “please get them out.” Rhysand leaned down to inspect the wounds. “Faebane,” he surmised, that’s why his connection to you had been severed. “We need to get her to Madja, now.” Azriel nodded, allowing Rhys and Cassian to move closer so the High Lord could winnow them home. 

Landing back at the House of Wind had been chaotic. Rhysand shouted immediately to get every healer available and the dining room table had been lined with a sheet, turning the warm family room into a medical ward. You were laid facedown on the table and Azriel took to your side, scarred hands touching your face, keeping you awake as Madja worked to remove the six arrows burrowed in your body. 

You’d screamed. The sound would haunt Azriel for centuries. You begged to make it stop and Madja had apologized softly as she worked faster to remove them while minimizing damage. “I’ve got you,” Azriel said softly, “eyes on me, alright?” He rubbed the hollow under your eye with a scarred thumb and you opened your eyes to lock on his. “No gloves,” you said, smiling tightly, before wincing as Madja applied local anesthetic to an arrow wound. Azriel smiled, eyes a little watery. “Not with you,” he whispered shaking his head, “never with you.” You smiled at him and the sight set Azriel’s heart to fluttering.

Later, after the arrows had been removed and wounds bandaged, you’d been given a strong herb tonic for pain that set your head swimming as exhaustion overtook you. Azriel carried you his room, laying you gently onto the mattress and covered you with the duvet. He leaned down then, breathing in your scent as he placed a kiss to your forehead, nuzzling his nose to the Winter white hair there. He would tell you. When you awoke, he would bare his soul to you. 

You woke with a groan. Fucking Gods, your body ached with the effort it took to roll over. “Easy,” a voice came from the corner of the room. Your breath gasped out of you as your eyes raced to the figure there. “Azriel,” you breathed. The male smiled warmly at you and stepped forward to rest at the edge of the mattress. You pushed up in the bed, the wound at your shoulder screaming from the exertion. Once in a sitting position, you rested your back on the headboard as you looked at him. “For taking out a small militia, you seemed to be decently uninjured,” you said smiling tightly, memories of the stranger and his whip haunting your mind. He snorted a small laugh, “Yes well,” he looked down then, thumbs fiddling with each other, chest heating, “I had something worth fighting for.” 

He looked back to you and your cheeks had grown pink, a small pleased smile at your lips. “I heard you, you know,” he said softly, turning enough to rest a hand on your thigh, thumb drawing small, soothing circles there. The heat generated in the touch sent a spark to your belly. Oh, you were fucked. “I heard you in my head, through the bond,” he said eyes watching his thumb as it traced on your bare skin hypnotically. 

“You know then?” You whispered, breath skittering out of you. You were scared to death of the trajectory the conversation was taking, your heart preparing for the best and the worst simultaneously. Azriel’s eyes dragged up your form to your face and a smile broke over his lips, one that caused your heart to ignite. Your Mother had once told you the heart was an organ of fire and you’d laughed, never having cause to believe such a statement. You understood now. 

“I—“ Azriel started, before clearing his throat, turning his body to face you in full, a knee pulled up on the mattress, touching yours. “In the whole time I have known you— two centuries, Little One,” he looked at you pointedly, “you have been my dearest friend, my greatest comfort, my confidant, and the person I admire most in this Gods forsaken world.” He breathed deeply, a whoosh exiting his lips as his hand tightened around your thigh. “The times when you were lost to me have been some of the most painful moments I’ve experienced.” 

Your eyes began to water, and you moved a hand to rest atop his own, thumb circling the scarred skin at his wrist. He took a breath then and the air shifted between you, his mouth opening and closing, as if he was gathering his confidence for what he was about to say next. “I have loved for you so long that I’d given up all hope of reciprocation.” The words shattered through you as all air escaped your lungs, guts swooping down as heat alighted there. “I felt the bond the night Eris came for you,” he continued, eyes watching your entwined hands. Your body went still and a startled laugh exited your mouth. Azriel’s eyes flew to yours questioningly. 

“Sorry,” you chuckled again, “I’m just realizing how fucking stupid we’ve been.” You lolled your to the side, watching him with loving eyes. “I’ve been in love with you for almost two centuries, Azriel,” you smiled, “I thought you wouldn’t want me.” Azriel’s eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing in disbelief, two then three times. You thought for a second to compare him to the guppy fish that swam in schools along the banks of the Sidra but refrained. 

He pushed forward then, hands coming to cup your face, pinky and ring fingers resting in the hollow below your ear, thumbs stroking your cheeks. “How could I not? You’re everything,” he whispered, searching your face, conviction showing in his eyes. You couldn’t stop the smile that overtook your mouth as you spoke, “and you’re my mate.” His eyes moved to your lips, glazing before they moved back to your eyes. “As you are mine,” he spoke confidently. 

Your eyes watched each other for a long second, “I really hope you’ll kiss me this time,” your hand trailed up his arm, fingers teasing. “Mother knows I’ve been dreaming of it for far too long.” He surged forward, lips meeting yours and you thought you might float away. You gasped and his tongue moved in, claiming your mouth, your taste with his own. 

He pulled away minutes later, a little breathless, “Sorry to have kept you waiting, my love,” he spoke, resting his forehead to yours with a smile, watching your dazed expression, pink cheeks, as your lips split into a grin. Your hand moved to the front of his button down, fisting in the material there, giving an experimental tug. “Kiss me like that again and I’ll consider forgiving you.” 

The laugh that came out of him was golden, and you pushed yourself to memorize it. Azriel, Lord of Shadows, Spymaster for the Night Court, Rhysand’s right hand and Illyrian warrior was soft for you. He loved you. He was your mate. You’d be giddy about it for the rest of your life. 

Your healing had been slower than you would’ve liked. The faebane had done serious damage but with Madja’s help, the scarring was minimized. The lashes at your front took two weeks to heal, the arrow wounds took three. Three fucking weeks. Meanwhile all you could think about was your mate. He hadn’t left your side in the interim. Helping you take steps, applying the wound creams that Madja had left in small glass pots, keeping you fed, making you laugh, telling you how much he loved you daily. Mother above, you were going to ruin this male. 

You walked into the kitchen at the end of week three, the only evidence of your wounds now in the slight limp of your right leg and twinge in your left shoulder. The marks at your stomach and chest had diminished into barely there, silver scores. Cassian was sitting at the small table in the corner as you entered. “Hi Cass,” you greeted, “seen my mate around this morning?” It was fun calling him that, a small part of your chest swelling with pride each time. 

Cassian smirked, “He’s been…… out.” Your eyes narrowed, he was being evasive. “Out where?” You asked, grabbing an apple and hopping up on the counter to watch the male. He shrugged, “No idea, Little One.” You smirked, “I know where you sleep Cassian,” you started, “is it really wise to lie to me?” Nesta strode into the kitchen, “What’s he done now?” She asked laughing. “Hey! I’ll have you know I’ve done nothing!” The male exclaimed, “She’s interrogating me on the whereabouts of her maaate.” He dragged out the vowel of the last word mockingly. Nesta took her seat next to Cassian and laughed, “Ah, him.” She looked to you then, “he’ll be around to collect you soon.” 

You looked between the two, suspicion dripping from your features as you took another bite from the apple in your palm. “You two are being weird,” you stated. Nesta shrugged, nudging Cassian who smiled at her. “Just wait,” she said softly, “maybe cook yourself a meal.” Cassian’s mouth quirked with a laugh he restrained. “Right, I’m leaving, cause whatever this is,” you waved a hand at them, “is deeply odd.” You hopped off the counter and strolled to the exit.  You heard them laughing softly once you were out of the room, making you roll your eyes at their antics.

You’d gone to the library after leaving the kitchen and found Elain already there. Her eyes moved to you upon your entrance and she closed her book, middle finger marking her spot. “How are you feeling?” She asked softly, eyes surveying your body for lingering damage. You sighed, falling into the sofa across from her. “I’m better,” you said quietly, “the pain is gone, scars are minimal.” You turned your eyes to her, she looked brighter than the last time you’d seen her. “How are you?” You asked in return. She smiled sweetly. “Better,” she echoed you and you wanted to laugh. “I’ve been exchanging letters with Lucien,” she added and your ears perked up.

“That’s great, Elain,” you rest your chin on a closed fist, watching her. She shifted and sat her book to the side, page forgotten. “I want to tell you something,” she said quietly, fingers twiddling with each other. She looked... nervous? “I’m all ears,” you said softly. 

“I had a vision while you were gone,” she started and took a deep breath. “It was so muddled at first, I couldn’t tell who it was, but then I saw you. Your hair was longer, you stood taller, and your belly was round.” The breath left your body in a powerful exhale. She looked to you again, eyes watching yours, “You were pregnant and happy and in love,” she said quietly, as if the words in themselves were fragile. Your hands trembled and you moved them under your thighs, her eyes didn’t miss the action. 

“I couldn’t understand why the Mother would send me a vision like that, I saw Feyre’s pregnancy, but we’re sisters, you know?” You nodded. “Then I realized I recognized the tattooed arm I’d seen wrap around you, knew it was Azriel.” Your eyes watered, and you hiccuped out a small laugh. “I’ve known for a while you two were fated, but the Mother was telling me for certain. I hope you know how happy we are for you.” She finished and moved to sit next you, small hand touching your knee. 

“When they brought you in that night, I thought the Mother had lied to me, that it was a vision of what could have been, that you wouldn’t make it.” You’d never heard Elain speak at length in this way, and you thought you might stop breathing. “I’ve never been happier to see you than when Azriel brought you in to read days later, my sweet friend.” You surged forward, throwing your arms around the female and she returned the gesture warmly. 

You sat back and looked at her then. “Thank you,” you said, voice small, a little watery. She nodded before turning to resume her original spot at the end of the sofa, picking up her book and opening it to the page she’d left off. 

In the hours that followed, you’d returned to the kitchen, grateful to find Cassian and Nesta had left. You took Nesta’s advice, gathering the ingredients to build a small berry tart. It had just gone in the oven when your mate appeared in the doorway.

“Hello love,” he said casually, leaning against the door jamb. You startled, turning on your heel to find him smiling at you. “Where have you been?” You asked walking towards him and running your hands around his midsection in a hug, head resting against his chest. His arm came around your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your hair, breathing in your scent. “That, my dearest one, is a surprise.” 

You looked up chin resting against his chest, watching his face. “It’d better be good, I baked for you,” you said, smiling softly at the Spymaster. His eyes moved to the oven then and back to you, irises darkening, as his pupils blew a little wide. “You… baked?” He asked disbelieving, “didn’t know you knew how to bake,” he followed up playfully. You gasped and shoved him, “for that, you can starve, have fun finding another mate to bake for you.” He laughed heartily and caught your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, eyes swimming with warm affection as he pressed a kiss there. Gods, the action made lust swoop in your stomach, heat spreading. 

“The fool I’d be to turn away such a female,” he said, voice deepening, lips running across your knuckles with each word. “Azriel” you breathed. “Yes?” He offered in return, still smiling, moving your knuckles back and forth against his hot mouth. “Please tell me this surprise involves you bedding me.” A growl creeped out of his throat, the thought of you under him sending lust racing down his spine and to his groin. 

“It might,” he said quietly, lips resuming their exploration, tracking small kisses from your knuckles, to the joint of your thumb, the inside of your wrist where Rhys’ tattoo lingered, up the soft skin of your arm, to your elbow, until he reached the skin of your shoulder. His lips traced over the raised skin there, a small nip above the scar as he traced north to your collarbone. You’d gone to putty in his hands, head rolling to the side to bare your throat. He pressed soft kisses there, pausing at your pulse point to trace the area with his warm tongue, a whimper escaping your mouth. 

“If this is going to become a regular thing, I’ll need you two to relocate to the River House,” a voice came from behind you and you jumped in shock, but your mate, he let out a possessive growl before turning on the intruder. Rhysand laughed airily and folded his arms over his chest. “Easy, brother,” he smiled, causing Azriel to roll his eyes. You blinked a little dazed, and pulled away from the Shadowsinger. “You’re gonna make me burn my fucking tart,” you shoved him with an arm and laughed as you turned to resume your place at the oven. 

Azriel instructed you to dress comfortably and be ready in a hour as he kissed your knuckles one last time and exited the kitchen. Butterflies roamed freely in your stomach at the thought of what he had planned. You’d returned to your quarters after removing the tart from the oven and portioning it into a small travel sized container. You were going to accept the bond, and your nerves were alight with anxious excitement. After you dressed in a lightweight linen dress, you packed a small bag with your remaining creams, and the boxed tart you’d prepared earlier. 

You descended the stairs to find Azriel waiting at the base, his wings standing proudly behind him, shadows skittering around his feet. At the sight of you they raced to meet on the bottom step, running up your legs, around your waist and into your hair. A laugh escaped you as one nuzzled into the space behind your ear. Azriel watched fondly. “They love you,” he said smiling, taking a step to meet you, “ever since the bond snapped, I’ve had the hardest time reining them back from touching you.” 

You reached a hand out to meet his, interlacing your fingers. “They’re cute, but you’re cuter,” you said with gentle affection. A shadow pinched at your waist and Azriel’s cheeks went a little pink as he laughed. 

“Will you tell me what the surprise is?” You asked as he walked you toward the training balcony. “I’m afraid I’m very poorly dressed for training,” you joked. He snorted, “no, we’re not training.” He came to rest at the railing and then turned to you, running a hand up your arm, fingers moving to hold the back of your neck, warm palm heating the skin there, thumb grazing your jawline. “Amongst many things I’ve been terribly late for recently, I realize I owe you a date.” 

Your face went a little puzzled and you looked to his eyes. “A date?” You questioned. He nodded, “I was supposed to take you flying.” Realization dawned on your features and a smile overtook your lips, each tooth shining in the setting sun. “I wanted to kiss you that night too,” you admitted laughing, remembering how desperate you’d been for his touch and attention. He smiled softly, “you have no idea how angry I was with Rhys for calling me away.” Your eyes widened, still in disbelief that this male wanted you return. It seemed both a millennia in the making and still so new and fragile. 

Azriel snuck an arm around your waist and brought you up into the stretch of his firm body. His other hand tracing down your hip, then thigh, to curve under your knees as he picked you up. His wings unfurled and he shot into the air. A shaky laugh startled out of you and you gripped him tighter, your arms winding around his neck. His wings flapped in thunderous bursts, taking you higher, until you could see the entirety of Velaris spread below, the Sidra flowing like a snake through the winding city. Your breath left you in awe. “The Peregryn was right,” you said loud enough for him to hear and he smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

The flight was short, but it took you to the rural banks of the Sidra on the outskirts of the city, just before it emptied into the sea. You could see ships sailing into the harbor, moonlight beginning to trickle across the water. This was undeniably special, you thought, no one would see you up here and you felt like this was the edge of the world itself. You turned to Azriel, finding his eyes already watching you. “Thank you,” you said softly, leaning into him, his chin meeting your forehead as you moved your body to rest alongside the length of his. His hand came to rest at the small of your back, pinky stretching to graze the curve of your bottom. Wherever this was going, you were very interested. 

He turned and grasped your hand, pulling you back up the hill and away from the view, towards a field of wildflowers and grasses. There, in the middle, a blanket had been laid out, small candles lit to illuminate the setting. A basket sat in one corner, a bottle of fae wine held within with an assortment of pastries, breads, and cheeses. You realized quickly that your mate, the male you’d loved for damn near two centuries, was courting you. The thought thrilled you. 

He led you to the blanket and motioned for you to sit next him. “I must confess, I never took you for a romantic,” you said looking from the candles, to the basket, and then to him. He was watching you again. He smiled, laughing a bit nervously, “I’m a lot of things,” he said and your eyebrow quirked. “Oh yeah? Like what?” You challenged him and he loved you for it. You made him feel easy to love, you made loving fun and freeing. Azriel had once only thought freedom could be found in fucking and flying, then he’d found you and he knew it was there too. In the smile of your lips, in the thrill of your touch, in the ease of your love. 

“Well,” he started, moving his wings to lean into you, pressing a kiss to your exposed shoulder. The action caused you to shiver. “I’m a spymaster.” You snorted, “no shit.” A laugh rumbled in his chest. “I’m a bit shy as you well know, I’m quite fond of dancing, I’m—” he hummed the last letter, pausing his thoughts and moving his lips up your neck. “I’m in love with you,” he said biting into the flesh at the juncture of your collarbone and throat, cock hardening at the sound that rolled out of your mouth. “I’m going to take you right here, on this blanket, under the stars.” 

You gasped, your hands moved find purchase in the hair at the back of his head, fingers winding through the strands, nails dragging at his scalp. His nose ran the length of your jawline before his lips found yours. He rumbled a small hum the instant his mouth touched your own. At first it was a gentle press, teasing you as he had done today in the kitchen at the House of Wind. The adrenaline racing up your spine made you feel like you might vibrate out of your skin. His hand reached up then, threading broad fingers into your hair as he took the kiss deeper. Tonguing the bottom of your lip until your mouth opened, his tongue stroking your own. Humming with contentment, he tilted your head, deepening the kiss at a new angle that had heat swooping down to your core. 

You brought your left hand to his shoulder, fisting your fingers in the fabric there and pulling him closer. He understood your intention and leaned you back into the blanket, pleasure alighting each nerve as his body pressed into your own. He eased up on your lips and began a slow trek south, pulling the strap of your dress down the curve of your shoulder, leaving a love bite there that had you gasping. He kissed down the bust line of the dress, laving his tongue at the swell of your breast. Your breath was coming in pants and you pressed yourself up on your elbows as he moved further south, fingertips tracing the hem of your dress that had risen to the middle of your thigh. 

He looked back to you and smiled, mischief playing in his eyes as he ran his hands up your thighs, the slow drag pulling the dress with it. “I’ve been thinking about your cunt for centuries,” he said, his lips on your knee, pressing insistently as they moved north. “I’ve been dreaming of making you come on my tongue since I met you.”

Your breath leaves you in one fell swoop as you feel his tongue at the juncture of your hip and thigh. His mouth was insistent at skin there, tonguing the lace of your panties before pulling them down your legs and off entirely. He picked up a foot, placing it to his chest as he traced the long line of your body with hungry eyes. You were panting already, dressed rucked up around your waist, straps fallen down your arms and breasts heaving. His gaze flowed south and landed on your pink cunt, glistening, begging for him. His eyes went back to your face then, and his titled his head to the side, “Will you let me eat your pretty little cunt?” He asked fingertips tracing the scars of your calf with reverence. He brought your foot up, kissing the inside of the ankle, then nosing his way over your scarred calf, suckling at the skin there. “Please,” he added, eyes moving back to yours as his mouth continued his ministrations. 

“Mother above, Azriel,” you breathed and a laughed startled out of you, “you are mouthy.” He chuckled darkly then, nipping at your knee, taking special care to press a gentle kiss at the new scar there. “Is that a no then?” He said softly and your head fell back with a groan, exposing your neck to his view. “As if,” you said, head pulling back up and lolling to the side to rest on your shoulder. “I’ve thought about it too, and if you back out now I will explode.” He laughed again, freely this time, forehead resting on your thigh. 

His eyes find yours again, and he kept them there as he traced his lips north. He nosed the juncture of your cunt and inner thigh, running a tongue along your mound. You gasped and eyes narrowed, watching him with rapt attention. He pressed a kiss to the top of your slit and his hands come up to open you to him, pulling the lips apart and tonguing the collected moisture there. Your head fell back as your elbows gave way, falling flat against the blanket. 

“You taste better than I imagined,” he said before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. The moan that left you had his hips pushing into the ground to find relief as his cock begged for release. His tongue flicked against your clit as he sucked and hummed. He thought this might become his favorite place in all of Prythian. He thought that every bad thing that had happened in his life seemed insignificant now that he was able to worship freely between your thighs. He traced fingers up and paused to wet them on his tongue, before pushing his middle and ring finger in to the second knuckle, pulling them out and scissoring them back in again. His tongue found your sweet little button for a second time that night and he laved at it, listening to your cries as he pushed you to the brink. Azriel’s life had been a nightmare, but between your thighs, mouth on your cunt, walls fluttering around his fingers, he thought he’d been blessed by the Mother herself. 

Your hips rocked up in time with his fingers and you cried as your gut twisted, the coil there tightening. “Az-“ you gasped. “Azriel,” you went a little whiny on the vowels of his name, and your hand reached down to thread your fingers into his hair, nails scratching and tugging the strands. He hummed, the vibration sending shocks up your spine. “Azriel, baby,” you gasped, coming up on an elbow again, rutting your hips into his face as he took you higher. He didn’t let up, suckling at your cunt, fingers finding the spongy spot on the backside of your clit that made the world go blank “Azriel!” you gasped again, hips stuttering out, “Fuck, fuck— oh.” In seconds you were reaching your peak, hips faltering, thighs twitching, toes curling into the hard planes of his back. 

He pulled his mouth off of you, pressing kisses to your pubic bone as he moved north up your stomach. He eyes were alight with desire, the male was pure want and you were his last meal. He pulled his fingers from your cunt and trailed them up to rest at your neck as he slotted his body between your thighs and kissed you. The hedonism of tasting yourself on his mouth made you wetter, cunt pressing into the hard line of his cock, still restricted in his trousers. He moaned at the contact, mouth leaving yours to rest his head against your chin and gather himself. The sound sent a pleasurable shock directly to your core. You grasped the hand at your throat and brought his fingers up and to your mouth, tongue laving at them before taking them to the knuckle, and pulling back slow, hollowing out your cheeks and sucking, keeping your eyes on his. He bared his teeth the sight and ground his hard cock into you, the friction on your clit making your thighs twitch. 

“My sweet little mate,” he cooed. “Love of my life,” he nosed your cheek, his fingers still in your mouth. “All my dreaming has been put to shame it would seem,” he pulled his fingers from your mouth and replaced them with his tongue, his hands flying to his belt. He growled in struggle and you ventured a laugh. His eyes found yours and his jaw ticked, “keep laughing, sweet girl, I’ll fuck your throat next and you won’t come.” Your eyes went a little wide and a feline grin appeared on your face. “Mouthy indeed,” you said with glee as he finally got the buckle undone and pushed the pants down and off. 

His shirt went next and your fingers traced up his exposed arms to his shoulders. “I’ve seen you shirtless a dozen times, and you still take my breath away,” you said softly, a hand resting on his pectoral. He laughed and went a little pink, before he pushed your dress up your body and over your head, leaving you bare. “I’ve always been impressed by your ability to so disarming,” he said, mouth finding the space above your breast as his hands came to cup them, fingers toying with the nipples. “It’s my favorite thing about you, you see me in a way I can’t even see myself,” he followed up. 

Your eyes watered at the admission and your hands found his face, bringing his mouth back to yours as you kissed him again, tongue entwining with his. Your hands grasped his shoulders, as your leg found his hip and you pushed him over, onto his back. Your hands came to rest on his chest as you settled your weight on his lower abdomen. You could feel his manhood standing to attention, insistent at the curve of your ass and you reached around to grasp it, pushing your chest out for his greedy eyes. Taking him in long strokes, you ran your hand up and down, circling your thumb around the head. His eyes screwed shut as his breathing shallowed. 

“Wanna know a secret, baby?” You offered, rocking your hips in time with your strokes. He whined then, the Lord of Shadows keened a little whine for you that had you ready to come right there. “Last time we hosted a gala, that night before Hybern,” you were panting, “all I could think about was taking you to bed.” His eyes opened and hazel was gone blacked out in pure desire. His hands found your hips and his own began to move in time with you. “I thought about riding you,” you said, twisting your hand in a way that had his breath guttering out of him. “I thought you might love me in the way you looked at me.” His eyes softened and he leaned up, hands tracing up your spine as he pressed kisses to your chest. 

“I loved you that night and every night since,” he said before tonguing a nipple and sucking it into his mouth. “That dress you wore, my color, had me hard for a week.” You laughed then removing your hand from his cock and bringing both to his face, so you could kiss him. His hands slipped to your ass then, palming the cheeks as his tongue moved in tandem with yours. When you moved back from him, a string of salvia still connected you two, you reached up to comb fingers through his hair gently.

“I brought you something,” you said quietly, looking to the corner of the quilt where your bag had dropped ages ago. His brow furrowed, confusion showing in his features. “You don’t have to, but I brought some of that tart. If you want,” you offered the statement nervously, as if there was still a chance for rejection. Azriel’s heart went soft and his brain turned to mush.

“You want to accept it?” He questioned, hands sliding up your back and to your waist. You smiled and looked at him incredulously, “Of course I want to accept it, it feels like I’ve waited a millennia for you.” You’d laughed a bit and that feeling of home raced through him again. Gods, he was fucked. 

You leaned off his lap, pulling the strap of your bag to you and unzipped it. There, packaged in a little glass container, lay a small slice of the berry tart you’d fretted over earlier in the day. “Nesta made some stupid comment about ‘cooking’ when I’d asked where you were,” you laughed in hindsight at the female’s leading words. “She knew because Cassian knew, he helped me with the food and candles,” Azriel murmured pushing your hair up and over your shoulder. 

He pulled the container from your grasp then and opened it before picking the pastry up with his fingers, the same fingers that had been inside you minutes ago. Eyes on yours he took the first bite, your heart thrumming as the golden thread of your bond lit up like the sunrise. His eyes never left yours as he consumed the pastry in four bites, swallowing and pulling his fingers into his mouth at the remaining sweetness there. 

The bond between you two was shining, strong and thrumming with love. ‘Hi,’ you tried, your thoughts reaching out to him. He smiled, laughing freely, and his voice came through clearly, ‘Hi, Little One.’ You choked out a laugh, eyes watering as you leaned forward to kiss him, tasting the berries on his tongue. ‘Can I make love to my mate now?’ He questioned down the bond and you laughed again. His hands were already tracing your hips as you leaned forward, hand reaching underneath to guide him into your cunt. Lowering yourself down, you rocked forward once then twice in order to take him to the hilt. 

Mother above, he was big. His cock was thick and filled you wholly, pushing against your cervix making your eyes flutter in pleasure. You thought of the comment Mor had made about wingspan once decades ago and you heard him laugh, “I’m flattered, truly,” he said playfully, reading your thoughts and nipping at your shoulder.

You rose up again and set to riding him slowly, hips moving in long strokes as his hands traced your ass, pulling at the flesh there in time with your movements. You gave a experimental squeeze of your walls, and he keened a loud moan that had you speeding up your flow. “You keep that up, Little One and I won’t last,” he panted at your throat. “That’s rather the point,” you laughed breathlessly, your own hand moving to cup your breast, the other sliding down to circle your clit. His eyes traced the view greedily, moving down to the point where you connected, watching your cunt take him in full, his cock glistening with your shared wetness. He bared his teeth at the sight, a rumble lighting in his chest. 

Just as your walls began to flutter with your impending orgasm, he grasped you and flipped you to your back, pulling your hands from your body and entwining your fingers with his own on each side of your head. He ground his pelvis in deep and your legs hitched higher around his waist. “Azriel, fucking Gods,” you called out at the switch in angle, the tip of his cock grinding into your cervix. He hummed at your throat, teeth marking you there as his hips pulled out and pushed in, grinding each time he bottomed out into you. His wings flared behind him and you thought you’d never seen a more beautiful sight. 

“You take me so well, my love,” he panted, “you were made for me.” You whined then, cunt fluttering around him as he bottomed out deep and held it there, grinding his pubic bone into your clitoris. The pleasure raced up your spine and you thought you’d never be able to leave this place, might have to keep him inside you forever. He growled, reading your thoughts. “You want me to fuck this cunt forever?” He asked aloud leaning up, pulling his hands from yours. 

You whined at the loss, but the sound died as he pulled your legs up his waist to his shoulders, kissing the scarred calf. He drew his cock out, only to slam back in. “Fuck,” you moaned out, voice going up two octaves. “You want me between your thighs for the rest of my days?” He said again, hips moving faster, your hands moving to your tits as they bounced from the impact. His eyes watched the movement and he bared his teeth again, turning his head to bite into the flesh of your calf. 

“Azriel!” You called out again, pleasure zipped up your spine and you felt your stomach tighten. “Az, baby, I’m so close.” He chuckled darkly. “Be a good girl and come on my cock,” he said as his fingers traced down your leg to find your clit, rubbing the bundle in quick, timed circles. “Az- I-,” you barely got the words out before your orgasm overtook you, a long moan exiting your mouth as your cunt tightened around him, he ground into you and worked you through it, before dropping your legs back to his hips and pistoning deeper.

“My sweet mate,” he gasped at the skin of your throat, mouth tracing up to find yours, hands finding purchase on your thighs as he pulled you open, allowing him dive deeper. “My darling love,” he moaned and his tongue moved with yours, your hips pushing up to meet his thrusts, walls fluttering against his velvet length with the remnants of your orgasm. 

You ventured your hand up his shoulder to the base of a wing and traced your fingers up the membrane to the bone. His eyes twisted shut, and he keened a low primal whine that had your cunt ready to come again. At the tightening of your walls, he groaned dark and deep, shadows seeping from him, as he pushed in, grinding against the innermost portion of you. His hips pulled out slightly and then pushed back in as his cock kicked, come spurting against your walls. He panted against your throat as his hands released their hold on your thighs and moved up your body before grasping your throat. He moved up to lean over you and his eyes found your own. He gave an experimental thrust of his hips and your eyes widened. Fucking Cauldron, he was still hard. 

He laughed then, nuzzling at your mouth as he nipped at your bottom lip. “I’m giving you five,” his voice was deeper than you’d ever heard it, “and then I’m eating my come from your cunt and fucking you until the sun comes up.” 

You gasped out a laugh as your arms wrapped around his shoulders. ‘They call it frenzy for a reason,’ you thought, kissing along his cheekbone and to his mouth. Gods, you were fucked. 

#acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel supremacy #i love this bat boy sm #azriel fanfic #azriel smut #hoo boy this is nasty #Save a horse ride a bat boy am i right? #bat boys #bat boys x reader #azriel imagine #acotar imagine #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acofas #azriel acomaf #azriel acosf

[bet-on-me-13]

The Structure of the Infinite Realms

This is an updated version of This old prompt I did a while back.

...

So! The Infinite Realms are not just limited to the Afterlife. In fact, the Afterlife is just a single section of the Realms, and Each Realm is ruled over by their own Kingdom with their own Godly Rulers.

Lets give an Overview of a few of the Realms:

The Far Frozen: The Far Frozen is a Realm inhabited by Yeti's, who are Pacifists by nature. Their sole focus is to develop their medical practices so they can help as many people as possible. They are rules over by the Ice God, Frostbite, a kind and just King who uses his eons of experience to help those in need. The Far Frozen are well liked by all Kingdoms in the Infinite Realms, and have very few enemies.

The Medieval Isles: The Medieval Isles are a very recent addition to the Infinite Realms, and resembles the Earth Sterotype of a Fantasy Land. It is inhabited by many different races, from Elves to Dwarves to Humans. It was previously Ruled Over by a Draconic God known as the Tyrant King Aragon, before he was overthrown by his sister, the Kind Queen Dorathea with the help of a Sir Phantom. It does not have many Enemies among the Realms, but the Fae Wilds to seem to resent that some Elves live there as opposed to their original homeland.

Olympus: Olympus is the Realm of the Greek Gods, home to all the Gods who exist in the World and used to exist. It is ruled over by Zeus. It used to be a pretty major Political Powerhouse in the Realms, but after Ares went Rouge and killed most of their Top Gods, they lost a lot of Power.

Themyscira: After the Amazon's split off from the rest of Greece, they formed their own Kingdom with Hippolyta as the Godess Queen. It exists simultaneously in both the Realms and Earth. This Kingdom is well respected, but not as old or as large as some of the others. It has about the same Political Power as Olympus currently does, if not a little less.

The Nordic Lands: This is a Realm inhabited by the Norse Gods and all their peoples. It is not ruled over by a single Race of Gods, and is split into many different Warring Factions. One is the Aesir, Ruled over by King Odin. Another is the Vanir, formerly ruled over by Njord, but now ruled by his son Frey. There are also the Lands for the Fire and Ice Giants, and so on. They hold a good amount of Political Power in the Infinite Realms, but tend to stay Neutral in most cases.

New Genesis: This is the home of the New Gods, a race of Gods who is far younger than the others. They are ruled over by High Father, one of the surviving Old Gods, and the father of many of the New Gods. They are a fairly old and powerful Kingdom in the Realms, holding much Political Power.

Apokolips: This is a Realm filled with almost exclusively Demon's. It is ruled over by the God of Evil, Darkseid, and his Court of Minor Gods. It is an Extremely Agressive and even hostile Kingdom in the Realms, but holds itself back from attacking it's fellow Godly Kingdoms in fear of Retribution. They rarely interact with the other Kingdoms or discuss political matters in Meetings, but they are still a Kingdom not to be trifled with.

The Fae Wilds: This is the Realm that is the homeland of all Faeries and such creatures, like Elves and Gnomes. It is ruled over by the Fae Gods, Oberon and Titania, who use their cunning to obtain a good standing among the other Realms and maintain a good amount of Political Power.

The Spirit Lands: This is the Realm inhabited by mostly Nature Spirits, such as Nymphs and Fire Sprites. These lands are ruled over by 4 Elemental Kings, among which are Vortex and Undergrowth. These Lands are a sort of Middle Point in terms of Political Power, not too much but not too little. Although their image has been damaged by the Impulsive personalities of a few of their Rulers.

The Miracle Lands (Miraculous Ladybug): This is a Realm inhabited by a race of Gods that represent Conceptual Ideas, known as Kwami's. They are ruled over by the King and Queen of their Lands, Tikki and Plagg, the concepts of Creation and Destruction. The Miracle Lands are one of the oldest and most powerful of the Kingdoms of the Infinite Realms, and hold some of the most Political Power in the Infinite Realms.

The Ghost Zone/The After: This was what I really made this post to do. To explain my Headcanon for how the Ghost Zone worked in the grand scheme of things, the rest was just context.

The Ghost Zone is the collective Afterlife of all the other Realms, with Major Regions of the Realms dedicated to the different Kingdoms that hold a claim to the Afterlife.

There are Large Regions of the Realms dedicated to containing the Afterlives of the Godly Realms, like the Underworld for Olympus, or Valhalla/Vanaheim/Hel for the Nordic Lands. (The Norse actually have a shocking amount of Territory in the Ghost Zone, many joke that it's because Odin and Pariah Dark liked eachother due to how similar they looked.)

Each of the Regions is ruled over by that Pantheon's own God of the Dead/Death.

Hades rules the Underworld, and commands the different sections like the Fields of Asphodel, the Fields of Punishment, Elysium, and even Tartarus to some degree.

Plagg rules the Miraculous After (the Kwami's are not very creative with names). This is an Afterlife exclusive to the Holders of the Miraculous, as well as those who use Miracle Magic without having a Miraculous, like the Guardians. Also just the followers of the Kwami's (they have a small following)

The Norse have many Rulers for their many Afterlives. Hel rules over Hel, Freya rules over Vanaheim, Odin rules over Valhalla, and even Rán has her own tiny section for drowned souls. Plus a few more small sections.

The Acropolis is the Personal Afterlife for the Amazonians, and only answers to the Queendom of Themyscira. Pandora was chosen as the new Goddess of Afterlife when this was decided, and Acsended to Minor Godhood.

And there are many more, too many to list.

All the Rulers of the Afterlives defer to the Ruler of the Ghost Zone, who holds the most Power among the Gods of Death, as basically their Landlord. That used to be Pariah Dark, but after he went insane and had to be sealed away, the Ghost Zone fell mostly to Anarchy.

While the Afterlives managed to maintain stability due to having their own Rulers, the large regions between the Afterlives did not, and Rouge Spirts began to stake their claims to small plots of Land called Haunts. The most common among these were Ghosts, but there were some Fae, Spirits, and some smaller Gods (for some reason, some of the Kings of the Spirit Lands liked to use this Area as a playground to do whatever they wanted with no consequences).

It took Millennia, but eventually Pariah Dark was released from his Prison and then Usurped by a Young Godling named Phantom. Phantom then proceeded to bring the Realms under control, maintaining a few of the newer customs thay had appeared in the wake of Pariah's Imprisoning like Claiming Haunts, but otherwise ending the Era of Anarchy in the Realms.

The Ghost Zone is the Oldest, and most Powerful of the Kingdoms of the Infinite Realms. It holds Extreme Political Power, and has the favor of many different Realms. It's hard to not have that when you are an integral part of the Balance of the Godly World.

Thoughts?

#Dp x dc #Dpxdc #Dc x dp #Dcxdp #Danny Phantom #Dc #Dcu #Miraculous #Miraculous Ladybug #The Infinite Realms #Infinite Realms #Danny Phantom is a Death God #All the other Death Gods see him as their Landlord/Manager #The Amazons decided “fuck olympus” and made themselves their own Afterlife #All the Rulers of the Realms are Gods #Fun Fact: This is the structure of the Godly World that I made up as the basis for by Dp x Dc x Miraculous Fanfic #...Which I have still not written... #...It's been months... #Ah whatever! #I'll do it someday! #...right?

[kindasleepywriter]

Bird of Prey - Chapter 5: Smoke and Fire

Bird of Prey masterlist. Azriel x Reader.

Chapter summary: A russet eyed friend welcomes you back. Heat overwhelms you and Azriel.

Story rating: Mature - Minors DNI

Warnings: Some smut. Mentions/flashbacks of past abuse. Slight fluff followed by a LOT of angst.

Word count: 2.7k.

Previous | Next

The bed was uncomfortable, too soft. Everything, in fact, felt too accommodating. You’ve been living in forest and mountain hideouts for decades now. Taking a hot bath felt wrong and wearing freshly washed clothes even more so.

In the wild, there is no such thing as clean. You can get close to it, certainly, but there was always a bit of grime that lingered in the handwashed cloth or the length of your hair. It didn’t bother you, as the absence of plumbing in the forests also meant a lack of people that would try and hurt you.

If you were being honest, the so-called normalcy of your new forced habits made you panic. You felt too exposed, too vulnerable. When you look like you’re not a part of common society, most people who were curious about the presence of a fae of your kind in other courts were too offput by your clear distance from common society. Too feral, too wild. But out there you were protected, you were safe, and you didn’t have to live your life waiting for another person to inevitably try to use you for their own gain.

You’d filled the tub with the coldest water the house could provide you with that morning.

You hadn’t missed your new markings, either. This was the first real bargain you’d ever made, having naturally made petty bets like all the other kids on childish games. This one, however, you would have to keep more than a few minutes.

You knew they went up to the base of your scull, but you hadn’t realized how far down your backs they reached. It looked like a long wisp of smoke, starting along your spine just above your rear, and trailed up until it disappeared in your hairline. You quite liked the design, honestly. You had seen some godawful ones in some very visible places, so you thanked the mother for the simple spine design. The way it trailed in between your wings, partially buried beneath soft feathers, made you quite content. You felt quite vain thinking it, but you thought it looked beautiful on you.

Azriel hadn’t visited you once for the first two days since the beginning of your stay. In fact, you hadn’t seen anyone but Cassian and Nesta, who alternated the role of babysitter with a great deal of annoyance. You got along relatively well with Cassian, if training together in silence could be considered as such. Nesta hadn’t exactly warmed up to you, but she’d stopped sneering at you every time she replaced Cassian. No conversations were had during those 48 hours, the house only resonating a tense silence except for when Cassian and Nesta spoke during dinner.

On the third day, however, the atmosphere completely changed. You were walking out of the sitting room towards the training grounds with Cassian, ready to beat your body into submission again, and as you traversed the main hall of the House of Wind, beating wings were heard, growing increasingly louder. The noise was followed by a voice calling out:

“Hey, Feathers, look over here!”

You turned around to the familiar voice, unable to resist grinning at the newcomer – Lucien. You couldn’t believe it. It must’ve been at least 300 years since you had last saw him. The second he landed and jumped out from the arms of the Illyrian who had carried him, Azriel, he started running towards you at full speed. You braced for impact as he collided with you, sending you both tumbling to the ground, holding on tightly to each other. You both sat up, still in an embrace.

“God, you don’t know how much I missed you, I thought you were dead!”, he exclaimed, his face solidly buried in your hair.

You let out a laugh. “Come on Kit, did you really think I’d go through all that we did just to die on you? Be realistic, please.”

He separated from you holding your face in his hands, pushing his forehead to yours.

“From the ashes and smoke-”, he began.

“-rises the fiercest fire.”, you finished softly. “I remember, Kit.”

“I thought you were gone, Feathers.”, he said, his voice shaking. “No one had seen you, even Amarantha couldn’t find you, I thought it was over.”

“I followed our deal, I always made sure someone could inform you if a mission went wrong. I’d never leave you in the dark like that, Lucien.”

You both finally separated, standing again, still holding on to each other’s forearms. You looked him over, shocked to see how different he looked.

“Gods, what happened to your eye?”, you exclaimed as you cradled the left side of his face and softly ran a finger along his scar, “What Puca did you piss off this time?”

“Ha! well, not-so-funny story-”

A loud Ah-um reminded you both that you were in the presence of other people. Cassian looked at you both incredulously, while Azriel’s were narrowed and fixed on Lucien.

“When you said you knew her, you didn’t mention you two had… history.”, the Shadowsinger declared.

You and Lucien burst into laughter again.

“Wait you think that he- that we-”, you let out, wiping at your eyes as tears leaked out of them, unable to complete the sentence as you fell victim to another fit of laughter.

Lucien looked torn between amusement at your reaction and panic “Oh gods no, never- don’t try to imply that to Elain, I swear to you I’ve never touched her that way in my entire life!”, he rather suddenly exclaimed.

You, finally calming down and only chuckling, let out: “I can’t believe you would keep our eternal love a secret, Lucien, I wouldn’t have told my father to prepare for a proposmmm-”

Lucien had clasped a hand over your mouth, clearly not happy with your sarcasm, worry in his eyes.

“You’re not helping, Feathers.”

Oh. You’d forgotten one crucial piece of information in the shock of seeing him: he was mated and, if the rumors were true, it was to the third Archeron sister, the one you hadn’t met yet. Elain, apparently. You brought up two hands in a peace gesture, and he let you go with a friendly shove. “Sorry, Sorry, should’ve read the room. You do have to tell me about her Luc, I’ve only-”

“While this reunion is clearly the height of fun for you both, Lucien came here for a reason, he’s the one who’s supposed to watch over you for the next few days, although I’m now heavily doubting that decision.”, Azriel interrupted. You scowled.

“Ah come on Az, let them have their little reunion, they clearly haven’t seen each other in years”, Cassian said, “She hasn’t done anything troublesome since she’s been here, and I think she talked more in the last five 5 minutes than she has in the last three days. How about you cut her some slack. Oh, also, being able to go to the loo alone would also be an appreciated gesture. It gets awkward fast when you listen to each other pee.”

Azriel didn’t look pleased. “Fine. As long as she stays in this house.”, he gritted out.

He glanced at the others before marching himself over to you, taking your wrist and almost dragging you to another hallway. You looked over your shoulder at Lucien, hoping he might try and stay something, but he was only watching with amusement. Traitor.

The Shadowsinger led you into a room at the end of the corridor, pushing the door closed and turning you around, trapping you between his body and the door, his hands resting on the wood on both sides of your shoulder. He wasn’t much taller than you, your Peregryn genes made sure of that, but he had his wings flared wide behind him. Consequently, the only thing you could see was him and his shadows. Not that they were very intimidating, mind you, only curiously climbing up your arms and settling on your shoulders. They were cold but almost… comforting. They reminded you of the winds of the Illyrian mountains when winter was just settling in.

You battled the urge to also spread your wings and physically push him back, but you took every ounce of patience you had to keep yourself calm. He couldn’t hurt you; he was just trying to look more intimidating. You could handle that. He looked furious.

“What the hell was that back there with Lucien, huh?”, he growled, “Involving yourself with a mated male?”

“By the mother, you really think we were together, don’t you?”

“Well, you two were certainly acting like it, Feathers.”

You gritted your teeth. Yes, you and Lucien had nicknames for each other, but it wasn’t like that.

“We’ve never laid together, we never will, and I’m not lying!.”

“You better not be. He’s already lived too much pain for the sake of his bond, and I will NOT have you destroy all the effort he and Elain have put in to reach where they are now.”

Pain, for his mating bond? You’d have to ask Lucien about it later, but Azriel sounded so angry about the past events that you doubted you’d get full answers- relationship troubles had never been your forte, not really a model of the healthiest relationship back then, and Lucien had never felt the need to come to you for those types of things. Some things were too personal, even between you two.

“Look, we were barely out of our teenage years when we met! I was in an unfamiliar court for a man that didn’t give me the time of day despite our engagement. I was harassed constantly by all the other Vansera brothers, just like Lucien. We were scared and we were alone.”

Your voice cracked, and you took a breath, trying to steady it. You were shivering with anger, despite the shadows around you attempting to soothe you, caressing your neck. You wouldn’t have anyone try to twist your relationship with Lucien, he was the only real family you had left. Time hadn’t changed that, and neither would empty threats.

“We protected each other until the end. We were going to make it out of there alive no matter what it took, and we did. He’s the only reason why I made it out. So, before you start throwing accusations of situations you have absolutely no idea about, learn to trust your fucking friends. Doesn’t he deserve that, at the very least?”

The both of you were breathing hard, both absolutely on edge. You had no idea what was happening to you, you felt like your insides were catching on fire. You hadn’t let yourself feel in years, and this… rage, within you, it suffocated you, it was too. much.

Your faces were only inches from each other, staring into each other’s eyes. His were hazel. You hadn’t noticed that before.

You had no idea who lunged first, but suddenly were brushing against Azriel’s torso as your lips collided. His hands dropped from the door to your hips, pressing you fully against his chest as one of yours reached for the base of his neck and the other his hair, tugging him closer. If you’d felt like fire before, now you were consumed by the sun itself. Every inch of you was burning from his touch, too much and not enough all at once. His lips moved against yours in a relentless battle, neither letting the other take control. His shadows covered the both of you. You could feel them trailing along your skin, the only source of relief from the heat burning through you.

His hands gripped your backside harshly when you thrust your hips up into him, and you let out a soft moan of pleasure at the contact. He didn’t waste a second, using the opportunity to thrust his tongue into your mouth, sliding against yours as he let out a groan. Something in the back of your mind was trying to get you to stop this, to escape, but you ignored every warning.

Your scents had sharpened, arousal flooding the both of you, mist and cedar overtaking your senses. He tugged at your thighs and you immediately obeyed, jumping to secure your legs around his waist. He crossed the room and deposited you on a wooden surface- a desk? A table? It didn’t really matter. He fit himself between your legs as your lips continued their furious movement, only halting to breathe before you started again, while you slid your hand down his front, feeling every inch of muscle that wasn’t covered by his thick Illyrian leathers. You could feel him against your core, the visible proof of his arousal providing you with only the slightest friction.

His right hand trailed down to your hip and then down between your legs. His thumb pressed ever so softly on your bundle of nerves through your thin pants and panties, and just that had you letting out a low cry against his mouth. He softly shushed you, his teeth nipping your bottom lip.

He reached for your back again, and you arched as you waited for him to pull you closer, but instead you felt his fingers softly brush the back of your wings, treading lightly over the sensitive spot where white feathers connected with delicate skin, making you shudder.

Instantly afterwords, it felt like a cold shower had rained down on you. His hand had trailed up almost exactly to the area where an Illyrian could be clipped- the most vulnerable part of their wing. A Peregryn’s anatomy wasn’t quite the same but whether he knew it or not, the message was the same: he had you completely at his mercy. Gone was the pleasurable consuming heat, replaced by white-hot panic. What was happening to you, letting him touch you, your wings? He was part of the Inner Circle, he contributed willingly to the suffering of thousands of women in this Court, and now he was willing to use those same wings as a sexual tool. Absolutely. Not.

You swiftly pushed him off and jumped down what you could now see was a desk, breathing erratically. Your wings reflexively tucked themselves so tight against your back it felt like you were going to pull a tendon; you leaped across the room making your way to the door.

“Wait!”, he called, his voice scratchy, a hand closing against your wrist. You glanced at him, looking up to see him shocked, concern lacing his eyes. Your fear increased tenfold.

“I can’t- You’re- , FUCK, don’t you dare touch me.”

You harshly tugged your hand out of his, running towards your bedroom at full speed, immediately locking the door behind you. You silently slid to the floor, your back against the door and tears filling your vision as you replayed what had just happened repeatedly. How had you lost control so easily?

Your feathered wings stretched around you as you tried to soothe yourself. You were itching to jump straight off the room’s balcony, let the air stretch your neglected muscles and fly back to the same caves and mountains where no one would find you, but you simply could not, all because of that stupid bargain.

Your hands reached the tendons and muscles of your wings, trying to ground yourself in the present. He couldn’t hurt you; he couldn’t even touch a single feather if you didn’t want him to. Your wings were safe, you were still free, they didn’t know. There weren't sharp hands tugging at your feathers in reminder of your forced submission, no one holding you down as you begged for mercy. You sat there, obsessively running your fingers through the feathers, feeling each and every one you could reach until you let yourself fall to the side, your wings still cocooned around you as you stared at the opposite wall in silence.

In your panic, you hadn’t noticed the doorknob’s wooden surface had smoked beneath your hand in the study. Someone else had.

I couldn't help posting it early!

Many revelations in this chapter! I had absolutely not planned the study scene to be so steamy but sometimes you have something planned and the story decides it knows better than you x)

Please let me know what you think!! This is my first time writing anything explicit, I'd love to hear how it reads <3

Banner created by the amazing @saradika!

Taglist: @sapphenaa

#azriel x reader #azriel #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfic #azriel fanfic #azriel POV #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #enemies to lovers

[throneofsapphics]

what do you think about slightly dark poly!rowaelin with dark reader but resder hides it and acts innocent, and one day she gets caught being crazy. like maybe she fights with someone and thinks no one will see her enjoying it. rowaelin catches her and they sooo approve. Potential smut👀👀

the thrill of it 

poly!Rowaelin x reader. 

Summary: Y/n has a secret, but she can’t keep it forever.

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: Violence, mentions of blood, suggestiveness, slightly dark, smut, overstimulation, light bondage, light d/s. 

A/N: nsfw minors dni please! I loved this request thank you, also not proofread super well

She showed them exactly what she wanted them to see. Sure, they know she can protect herself, but that she’s a pacifist, won’t even kill a bug. Any yes, that really was her the majority of the time. Y/n does like quiet afternoons reading, walks in the gardens, convincing the cooks to let her bake cookies or sweets to surprise Aelin with. 

Y/n found a certain thrill in violence. There wasn’t a fear they’d hate her if they found out, but she liked having a secret, something she could separate from her life at the castle. 

Letting her aggression out in a legal, albeit brutal manner ended up as the best solution for her. The safest one. Maybe not all of it was ethical, but it was safer, nobody died during the fights, and there were rules. The biggest one being no weapons beyond their own body. The clubs were established for a reason, and she wasn’t banned from them. 

She took painstaking efforts to make sure none of the regular patrols would recognize her. As soon as they appeared, she drifted into the shadows and streets. Or, if there’s advance warning, she wouldn't show at all. 

Rowan and Aelin knew she spent a night with her friends once in a while, maybe a few times a month, and always comes back hungover as hell. But, she never told them exactly what happens on those nights out. And, her best friend, Ella, is skilled in healing magic, that takes care of any ‘evidence.’ 

-

Aedion went scouting, Partially to see which of his soldiers might be participating, and part to register potential threats. Normally he wouldn’t go alone, but rumors spread that certain notable participants would slip away whenever any ‘scouts’ would come by. The club wasn’t illegal. As far as he knows, everything is above board. With an influx of females, males, men, and women - all warriors or soldiers in their own right, inhabiting Orynth, it’s a safer way to let aggression and bloodlust out. Nothing like the pits or vaults of Rifthold. It was even clean. He slipped in right in the middle of a fight, the first of the night. 

He would know that scent anywhere. Y/n was away from the castle tonight, and here of all gods-damned places. But where? 

It took all of his restraint to stay exactly where he was when he tracked the scent. Without his Fae senses, he wouldn’t have recognized her, but there she was. Fighting. No weapons, only fists and against a rather large and vicious looking male. Not only fighting, but toying with him. 

“End it!” Someone yelled. A friend of y/n’s, Ella, she was easily recognizable. He stayed enough to watch her beat him to a pulp, laughing as the man took the hand she offered, both them with smiles on their faces. His a bit bloody and missing a tooth. 

“I’ll get you one of these days,” He muttered and she grinned. 

“Maybe next time.” She’s a rutting regular. And a far better of a fighter than he knew, and likely her mates knew. Forget scouting, he was going back to Aelin and Rowan. Now. 

-

They knew she was there, or hopefully would still be. Hopefully she hadn’t caught Aedion’s scent and left. He - both of them wanted to catch her there. That way she wouldn’t be able to deny a damned thing. Aelin already told him they couldn’t storm in there and drag her out. Although they both were very tempted to. Even though Aedion told them she downed a man three times her size with ease, he wouldn’t believe it unless he saw it with his own eyes. 

Aelin set two rules. One, not revealing themselves. Two, not dragging her out. 

They slunk inside, sticking to the shadows, Rowan’s wind hiding their scents from the Fae present. Some others wore hoods as well, even a few had masks on. But, the place was clean and the laughs were in good nature, not malicious. 

His sweet, kind-hearted female who refused to kill a bug - somewhere like this. Those old senses flared, from when they’d first set their eyes on her. Something lingering underneath. He thought she’d healed it, let it drift away, but maybe she hid it. Rowan knows he should be angry, and he is, but a bit of excitement drifted in as well. 

He immediately surveyed the room, to find a small, but subtle confrontation happening in the corner. A small voice in his head told him, y/n would be there, so he nudged Aelin, jerking his head towards the area. 

One man was tossed out of the ring, pushed towards an exit, a burly man nodded subtly to a small female figure leaning against the wall. Y/n, she could recognize her anywhere, fisted the mans tunic and dragged him out a side door. 

Aelin and Rowan didn’t have to look at each other to know they’d be following. She expected maybe she’d toss the man on his ass, but instead they found her pinning him into the ground, a sharp blade to his neck, one knee digging into his chest, and her boot crushing his right hand. Aelin could feel the satisfaction rolling from her. She was enjoying this. The man let out small whimpers, but didn’t dare trying to move. 

-

She was well aware of who stood in the shadows, but couldn’t ‘break character,’ now. Not really a character, more another part of herself. A part she can't hide anymore. “Try that again and I’ll cut your balls off, and shove them down your throat,” she hissed. She dug her boot into his wrist, lifting the knife slightly, enough for him to nod, his eyes were filled with fear. She stepped away and he scrambled - sprinting out of the alley. 

-

“Can you read?” She tilted her head, the knife shifted enough for him to nod. “Then you know the rules.” 

“I wasn’t going to-” his voice was hoarse, cut off by a blade pressing back down. 

“Try that again and I’ll cut your balls off and shove them down your throat.” 

Y/n took a careful step back, and the man bolted. Her entire view of their mate changed in the last ten minutes, and Aelin didn’t mind at all. 

“Not afraid of scaring off the business/” Rowan drawled as the man scattered. 

“He’ll be back, his ego is bruised.” She still didn’t look at them, her eyes trained on where the man disappeared. 

“And if he pulls that again?” 

Y/n slowly turned, a half smile on her face. “I don’t make idle threats.” She had enforced one of those threats before, and enjoyed it.

“You’ve been keeping secrets,” Aelin purred, stalking towards her with Rowan matching her steps. 

“You never asked,” y/n’s voice was still laced with honey, a sweetness and honestly that felt authentic. Lying by omission. 

“You fake a hangover well.” Rowan commented, his face still a stony mask. 

Her eyes widened before she chuckled, “those are very real.” 

“Are you paid for this?” Rowan crossed his arms. 

“All volunteer.” Aelin couldn’t decide if she wanted to throttle her or kiss her. Or fuck her till she forgot her name. She asked Rowan, directly into his mind. 

“Why not all three?”

He threw her over his shoulder, stalking out of the alley and Aelin followed him with a grin. It would be a long night. 

-

Y/n saw the looks on their faces, and noticed the shifts in her scent. A bit of anger, but excitement and arousal.

Rowan didn’t let her walk, as much as she banged her hands on his back and called him a variety of creative names. He didn’t put her down until they reached their room. 

-

“You’re not finished yet, are you darling?” Aelin purred, as she struggled against the binds tying her arms to the headboard. She’d lost track of the amount of times she finished. Aelin was relentless, her hands pushed her knees apart. Again, spreading her wide open. 

“I can’t,” she protested, “too much, it’s too much.” 

“You can give her another.” Rowan’s hand twined in the back of her hair, arching y/n’s neck backwards to graze his canines along the column of her throat. She should be terrified that he could rip her throat out with one movement, but it excited her instead. The delicious combination of fear and arousal flooded through her, sending heat right to her core. Again. He moves away, but keeps a firm grip on her hair, forcing her to look down towards Aelin

She runs two fingers along her core and she jolt, letting out a small whimper. It’s burning. 

“Please,” she started begging, “please, please,” and this time she’s not sure what she’s begging for. 

Aelin held the fingers up, like a prize. Y/n’s slick arousal coated them. “Look how wet she is,” she smirked, looking at Rowan. 

“Little dove, are you lying to us? Again.” Rowan’s canines nip at her ear.  

Her head shook rapidly

“Really?” Her head tilts, “I thought you said it was too much.” Rowan’s deft fingers undo the ropes holding her hostage, and she sighed in relief, but that was short lived. Rowan slid behind her, using his knees to spread her legs back apart, before one arm pulled her back flush to his chest. Another tight hold she can’t escape, and she didn’t want to. Not really, even with her body on fire, every inch overstimulated 

There’s no warning as his thumb presses down against her clit, sending her screaming, her head falling back against his shoulder. Aelin’s fingers slam back inside her, curling to hit that perfect spot, sliding back and forth across it. Her tongue draws across one nipple, circling it before tugging it with her teeth. Biting just enough to draw a whimper from her, turning into a moan, maybe a scream, or maybe their names as she adds another finger, pounding into her. Is it two? Three? She can’t tell as another orgasm wrecks through her body, walls clenching around her fingers, Rowan grunted as her body rubs against him, his hard length pressing into her back. 

“Good girl,” Aelin whispers against her skin, kissing her way up y/n;s chest, before capturing her lips. The soft kisses left her dizzy as her fingers gently stroked her through her orgasm. Y/n didn’t notice Rowan had moved his hand away, now roughly gripping one of her breasts, twisting her nipple between his two fingers. The contrast between each of their touches left her reeling. She writhes against him, tears starting to stream down her face. Aelin only wipes them away, arousal still filling her scent. 

“Now,” Aelin cooes and pulled her hand away. “It’s time to put that pretty mouth to use.” 

Y/n knew she was in for a long night. 

#throne of glass fic #rowaelin x reader #poly!rowaelin x reader #poly!rowaelin x y/n #rowaelin x y/n #rowan whitethorn x reader #aelin x reader #rowan whitethorn x y/n #aelin galathynius x reader #aelin galathynius x y/n #poly!Rowaelin #throne of glass smut #aelin x y/n #no beta we die like men #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #throne of glass x reader

[snakeredbirdbatkatana]

Son of Hell (Part 2)

Lucifer doesn't typically get summoned by his Lily she is usually more than happy to cause as much chaos as possible all on her lonesome. Who needs their loving husband getting in their way he is not bitter.

Imagine his surprise when he is dragged not even to his beautiful Queen, but to a child who is practically dripping with hell magic.

Seems he has a new kiddo, no wonder he's seen less of her lately especially if he's some form of hero which isn't exactly what he would pick for a profession but beggars can't be choosers.

-

Lily is Lilith.

Tim feels like an idiot he had assumed some form of fae or even minor god.

Not the queen of hell he has been bossing around the literal Mother of demons, who's husband is the devil and is smiling at him.

She promised though that she wouldn't leave that she would protect him so this even more doesn't make any sense.

He is still trying to puzzle it out when the fallen angel begins to walk to him.

"Hello my child, may I inquire as to what exactly is going on?"

A voice like honey comes across the battlefield somewhere behind a kneeling Darkseid.

"I believe I can explain, however darling put away the feather dusters you are scaring our imp and his humans."

A woman steps dark black wings almost as big as Lucifer's spread proudly behind, offsetting to the blonde hair and blood red dress that's seems to swirl.

She's looks different but he can feel that it's lily that it's Mom.

"The idiot behind me decided to attempt to kill our child, and well I figured it was time for you to complete your Fatherly duties."

He can't stop his mouth which seems to be operating separately from self preservation.

"You actually want to be my mom?" He can't help the hiccup that follows.

Warm hands come to wrap around his chin his eyes falling to meet emerald.

"You have always been my child, what have I done my imp for your doubt?"

He falls wrapping his arms around her burying his face in her curls smelling the sulfur but also a distinct scent of home.

She stands pulling him fully into her arms like he's a little boy again.

"Now you finish off that annoying stone thing, and than return home it's time for Timothy to meet his siblings."

He turns so he can look at the devil who apperently his adopted father who looks back at him with a wink.

"Anything for you, and yes because I choose to ignore him it's not because my wife never calls to tell me about children no it's all Lucy's fault. Have you been speaking to my father again?"

Tim can't help the giggle that slips out another warm smile comes from both his Mom and his sorta Dad.

He sees the bats and everyone else they look awestruck and angry especially Bruce he hides back in Mama's curls he know that he can't avoid it forever but maybe for a little bit longer.

She must read his mind as her wings begin to move she shouts out.

"To any hero who would like to argue with my child, you may argue with his Father, I'm sure he will be more than willing to make a deal."

As they leave the battlefield the adrenaline gone he feels his eyes start to slip closed he's exhausted.

A kiss across his forehand and a whispered,

"Sleep, sweetheart Mama has you."

Is all it takes before he's dead to the world.

@emstheshortone for you the one that inspired me to make this a series!

#tim drake #batfamily #lucifer morningstar #lilith #Tim is the adopted son of hell #Tim is confused #this is one version of part two I have another one #Bruce Wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #batfam

[azriel-scum]

It wasn't supposed to be this way - Part 2

Hi hey hello! Part 2 is here! I'm worried that there are some inconsistencies from part 1 to part 2 and if there are certain things that don't add up. I wanted to get this out, but I'm also considering going back to revise both parts to make sure it flows!

This is my first time actually posting fanfiction, I've been reading it for as long as I can remember and writing here and there, but I feel like I'm still trying to nail down my writing style. I might make some minor changes, but I'm very much open to any feedback!

Warnings: Domestic abuse

Tags: @littleffawn, @frogsandhomicidalducks

Walking with her head low, Elara neared the center of the city.

It was heartbreaking to walk through the city this way - actively trying to avoid everyone, trying to not be recognized.

Velaris meant a lot to everyone in the inner circle and Elara would never try to claim that it meant more to her than anyone else. All of them would unquestionably lay down their lives to protect this place - Gods Rhysand had done just that - had experienced something worse than death for fifty years straight.

At the risk of being too self important, some days she felt like Rhysand was the only person who could truly relate to how she felt about how deeply her soul was intertwined to this city. The fae who lived here, their families, their stories. It wasn't just that - it was the priestesses in the library, it was the Illyrian warriors who had been outcasts of the camps, and all of the other souls this city has taken in.

Having to hide herself away from the citizens of the city, sneak around to hide a dark and twisted secret, being too ashamed to show her face - was truly heartbreaking to her. It affected her in a way that most would never understand. She ached to describe this feeling to someone, to unload the heavy mass of shame she was carrying, but who could she possibly tell?

Rhysand was the closest thing she had to an older sibling, he understood the way she grew up and where she came from, understood how much this city meant to her and above all else, truly understood the burden of having others rely on you to perform and deliver what was needed of you.

Rhysand's inner circle were trusted individuals, they were competent - they did what needed to be done and they rarely, if ever, let themselves slip away from that. How could he continue entrusting her with the city if Elara couldn't even be trusted with making the right decisions about her personal life?

Somedays it felt like the shame she carried was more visible than any bruise Merikh could've ever given her.

She neared her mother's house, somewhere she had once loved, a place that once represented freedom and new beginnings, now a house of looming death.

There was a group of young Fae walking on the other side of the road, bright eyed and eager, Elara looked up and smiled at them out of habit. One of her most favorite things to do was visit the schools in Velaris as often as she could. For a moment she foolishly forgot about being on guard, and wistfully thought about what it would be like to hit a reset button, to have developed differently, to give the chemicals in her brain a second chance. To be a young female again, bright eyed and eager about the world.

From behind her, a steady and authoritative male voice spoke with the calmness and respect that only a trained and diplomatic soldier can master.

"Governess"

Her back straightened at the exact same moment that her heart stopped beating. Slowly, she turned around, because what other choice did she have?

As she turned around, the male's head was still ducked into a bow and Elara had a fleeting thought - this was the one millisecond she had before he would see the state of her neck and face, the very last moment before she would have to come up with some kind of explanation. As the male raised his head to look her she ducked her head briefly as a sign of respect, never quite used to having people bow to her and never wanting to leave it unanswered.

Raising her head to look at the male, she recognized him as being a spy from the night court, one of Azriel's trusted soldiers.

"Sylas," she greeted him with a smile, lest he sense anything amiss with her, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I've just returned from a mission and was walking through the city. I saw you from across the way and thought I would say hello," His tone was easy and he was smiling, but Elara was keenly aware of him cataloging her appearance.

Quick on your feet Elara

"Well that makes two of us, I've just returned to the city and was paying my mother a visit," the lie slipped out easily and much more naturally than she could've hoped for. "I trust I'll be hearing about your travels and the state of Prythian soon." Elara received weekly reports, occasionally from Azriel, but more often than not he was away and the report came from one of his spies.

Sylas nodded affirmatively and replied "I look forward to hearing about your mission as well," pointedly, he looked at the bruises on her face, "I'd hate to see what your opponent looks like."

Elara's heart dropped and her anxiety spiked, but ever the composed warrior she simply gave Sylas a conspiratorial smile and wink.

"I'll see you at our next meeting, take care of yourself, Sylas"

He briefly bowed his head one final time and with that he was off.

fuck. fuck. fuck.

What were the odds a spy trained to work under Azriel himself didn't see straight through that entire interaction?

Elara wouldn't bet anything valuable on it. She just hoped he had enough discretion to keep his mouth shut.

With her face bruised, her heart pounding and her head held high she entered her mother's house.

She opened the door to good natured chaos.

Endor and Elvira had music playing through the house and they were dancing in the living room - trying and failing - to spin each other around. Her mother was sitting up in her recliner, laughing, a rare but golden sight to see.

For a brief moment, Elara stood at the door, her family not quite noticing her yet and she smiled, a glimpse of the version of her family without the abuse and the hardship.

Her brother twirls Elvira around and as she turns she catches a glimpse of Elara standing at the door.

"Ellie!! What are you doing here?" her sister runs across the room, but stops halfway, "what happened to see your face?"

Ellie offered her a simple sheepish shrug and said simply "duty called again."

Elvira laughed and hugged her, Endor gave her a fist bump, and her mother just shook her head and smiled.

A wave of shame crashed over her.

Her job obviously required that she be diplomatic and act with discretion, if that meant lying or being a little manipulative, so be it - but this kind of behavior had never infiltrated to her personal life, to her personal relationships.

Elara had perfected the art of compartmentalizing quite a few hundred years ago - and she shoved this feeling into dungeon cell in the depths of her brain and stored it under lock and key.

Her siblings had already gone back to dancing and her both motioned to the seat beside her.

For the next few hours they laughed and talked, her and her brother cooked lunch, and they sat around her mother, just being in her presence.

A good reminder for Elara that she needed to do this more often.

The music had been stopped for a while, Laurel had dozed off and Endor had gone to train with some friends. The two sisters were sitting out in the backyard and it was nice - there were so many things Elara wanted to discuss with her - the state of relationship, her mother, Elvira's future and a number of other things that could and should be address but it all felt too heavy to bring up now.

Sitting out in the sun made Elara feel much better, her wings felt less sore and when she had looked in the mirror earlier, the bruises were mostly faded, the accelerated healing finally starting to kick in. She had barely thought about Merikh since being here; her mind wouldn't allow her to out of pure preservation. She did allow her mind to wonder where he was, if he had returned to their apartment, if she should go back there and if he would be in a good mood if she did.

Without warning, there was a knock on her mental shields. Elara immediately recognized it as being Rhysand. Immediately, she opened a small sliver of her mind.

"El, come to House of Wind as soon as possible. No immediate threat to the city, but we have intel that needs to be discussed."

She responded affirmatively and stood up. "Sorry little sis, duty is calling. Tell Mom and Enny I'll be back sometime this week, I love you."

Her sister, as the rest of her family, was used to her having to dash off for various reasons with little to no warning. She simply nodded and Elara was off.

She flew over the city to the house, wings sore and mind heavy. Elara allowed herself for just a moment to consider her current situation and what she would do.

Leaving. Leaving was the only option. She knew that, had for some time.

She arrived to the house and was immediately greeted by Feyre.

"I know I said we wouldn't bother you, I'm terribly sorry."

Elara shook her head and smiled duty calls.

She followed Feyre into the dining room. Rhysand was sat at the head of the table, Cassian was standing at his side energy buzzing through him and Azriel was sat slightly off to the side shrouded in shadows; Amren and Mor sat toward the middle of the rectangular table. Elara recognized a few of Azriel's spies and a few of Cassian's soldiers.

She scanned around the rest of the table and had to physically restrain herself from reacting. Merikh sat at the other end of the table speaking with Sylas, Azriel's spy whom she had crossed paths with earlier in the day. Her heart started to race, but she made a conscious effort to slow it down, lest she spread a scent of fear or anxiety throughout the room.

Rhysand looks up to see his Governess entering the room his eyes glaze over ever so slightly and he spoke to her mind.

Sylas went out to the northern steppes this morning. We had heard word of an errant camp leader that had moved his people closer to the mountain, he's amassed a larger group under his lead and he's been conducting some very concerning drills and shows of strength.

It was not unusual for Illyrian camp leaders to be causing unrest. While Elara herself was not directly responsible for this area, it was very pertinent that she was made aware of disruptions or possible sources of conflict. Usually, though it would not have required an emergency meeting.

Rhys must have sensed Elara's slight confusion and he continued his explanation.

Of course, as you know, these kinds of things aren't unusual. Sylas came back and gave report, we weren't particularly concerned, but Azriel heard one of the names of the Illyrians and recognized him as being a citizen of Velaris.

An active member of the camp or a hostage? That felt like a ridiculous question, but the whole scenario was borderline unbelievable. Neither option seemed realistic, but how else would a citizen of Velaris join a camp in the Illyrian steppes. Why else?

It seems he is an active member by choice. How or why he got out there I'm really not sure. We have Merikh monitoring the situation, but of course it's something to keep an eye on. We can't have them recruiting people out of Velaris.

Certainly not.

She turned around to the rest of the room. Merikh was trying to make eye contact with her, she could feel a little bit of his anxious energy. Maybe he was trying to gauge her thoughts, figure out how volatile she was feeling. In their home, Merikh might have the power over her, but in this house and with these people, Merikh was lucky to have even found someone to take the time to bring him up to the meeting room.

Rhys nodded toward her. Your meeting Elara Starlight, we follow your lead.

She made eye contact with Azriel and Cassian, smiling to acknowledge them. Cassian smiled back, Azriel simply nodded. There was something about his silent acknowledgement that gave her a boost of confidence.

Addressing the room she asked, "what do we know about the citizen of Velaris? How could he have gotten to the steppes?"

Sylas opened his mouth to speak, after getting a small go ahead gesture from Azriel, but Merikh was quicker.

"I believe he was frustrated with the lack of opportunity here, there have been a lot of changes and there's no place for a male like him anymore. He seems like a restless male that would've been better suited for the Illyrian lifestyle. If he fits better there, why would we bring him back?"

Elara couldn't find a way to respond to that without blasting him out of his seat, so she simply stayed silent and turned toward Sylas.

He ducked his head toward her, "Governess, I can't say why he joined, but I do believe that the leader of this particular camp is ramping up his recruiting efforts. He's very eager to grow his numbers and spread his message."

Azriel added in "We will be running missions through that region regularly and making contact with leaders and members. I feel we should have extra boots on the ground here in order to ensure we're not losing anymore of our citizens to this cause."

"I'll speak to my contacts throughout the city to see if I can better understand the situation and will of course report back. Azriel, we'll be in touch about missions and Sylas," she turned to the spy, "I might pull you in for some intel gathering around the city and I would like to go out to the Illyrian steppes to see it for myself." Elara hadn't been out to Illyria in quite some time, she was not necessarily eager, but there a was a threat to be handled and she knew she needed to be out there.

Elara opened her mouth to ask Cassian a question about the Illyrian soldiers and if there were any grumblings across their ranks but Merikh stood up before she could get the words out.

Her anxiety spiked and dread overwhelmed her. If it was possible to die of second hand embarrassment, Elara's death would be the most eminent it ever had them.

"Now hold on, I'm the emissary between these lands, I should be the one to go. I would not need an spy escort to make sure I'm not raped and maimed for a simple visit. We've already lost a citizen to their groups, it doesn't -"

"If the governess wishes to visit the Steppes, I will see to it that she makes the visit." Azriel spoke with such finality that everyone was quiet for several moments.

Rhsyand had been quiet for the majority of the conversation and he was now carefully and silently considering Merikh.

Elara stood there in silent shame. How horrible was it to have your partner speak of you in that way in front of the High Lord and inner circle. How was she ever meant to be taken seriously?

Feyre, Elara do you believe we're done here? Rhysand asked mind to mind. Elara indicated it was and Feyre agreed.

"We will continue to monitor the situation and take the next steps we've decided on."

With Rhysand's dismissal, everyone stood from the table, some hanging around to talk, others laughing about their days; the serious events from the meeting almost entirely forgotten.

Elara walked down the hallway to pop into her office, while she didn't work out of it often, there was some paperwork and letters she wanted to retrieve. As she opened the door, she heard footsteps behind her and immediately knew it was Merikh. Before she could decide on what to do he had a grip on her forearm and was in her face.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Elara opened her mouth to respond and he shoved her back further into the office.

"You made me look like a fool out there. You've turned this city to shit and now you want to come in looking like the hero and step over me to go out to Illyria."

Elara stayed silent. It was better than trying to reason with him when he was in this state.

In the back of her mind, she clocked the softest sound of a heal turn around the corner. Unsure if Merikh heard it or not, she tried to back out of his grasp, worried someone would see what was going on. He held on tighter and opened his mouth to berate her again - she heard another soft step in their direction, this time Merikh heard it, but before he could fully react, Azriel was standing in the doorway.

Elara had never felt shame quite like what she was feeling in this moment. She had never wished to disappear more, had never wanted to be invisible and cease to exist quite as much as she did right now. Azriel could be quieter than silence itself, Elara knew that as well as anyone else. Had he made the noise intentionally to alert them of his presence? Had he misjudged the situation, wanted to avoid catching them in a compromising situation?

Azriel stood for a moment, considering the two of them.

"Merikh, you're needed in the foyer, Rhsyand needs to speak with you."

Merikh, had tried to disguise his hand placements as a romantic gesture, removed his arms from her shoulder and nodded once before leaving the room.

And there stood you and Azriel.

Heart racing and blood pumping, anxiety spiked so high she was starting to shake.

Calm and composed, Azriel stood like a stone in the doorway. It seemed he was rendered speechless.

#acotar #innercircle #rhysand #azriel #cassian #acotar imagines #a court of thorns and roses #cassian x reader #azriel x reader #rhysand x reader #feyre

[dogfight-if]

Demo TBA

Fantasy/Romance

Windwood is an interactive fiction game following you as you go on a quest to prevent the end of the world. You play as the youngest of a minor noble family in the fae city of Premxine.

Surrounded by the forest of Windwood, the city is covered, hidden from the human kingdoms. After an attack, you flee the city and forest with three companions to warn the king of a threat.Face to face with your own mortality, you must put a stop to that which poses a danger to the world as you know it. Do what you will, but know that failure will result in an untimely death.

With a long time best friend, a loyal protector, a fierce beast, a prince, princess, noblewoman, a priestess, an angel, a fae hunter, and even an ex-friend turned dark lord, there’s no shortage of romance.

Features

Play as male, female, or somewhere in the non-binary range. Cis, trans, or intersex.

Customize your character to the max with extra unnatural features.

Romance or befriend one of 10 characters, including the dark lord you must defeat.

Uncover the secrets of the gods- or god.

Discover the garden of Eden.

Develop skills in fighting, politics, intelligence, leadership, or stealth.

Choose from 8 different hobbies to pursue.

Dabble in magic, wield a sword, or both if you’re an overachiever.

Get betrayed. Twice.

Survive life threatening injuries.

Find out what you really are.

Romance Options

The Best Friend

Marian Moller (M. he/him)

“As long as i’m here you’ll be safe, i promise,”

Marian, the best friend and prince of Premxine. Marian Moller is fiercely loyal and stubborn, having always been there for you no matter what. To everyone else he’s brash and irresponsible, but you know that’s not the case.

At 5’7, Marian has short, curly pink hair and yellow eyes. He has tan skin, sharp teeth, and has often been said to have an almost childlike face. Marian also has long, pointed ears with feathers framing them.

The Dark Lord

Ness Lodima (M. he/they)

“What have we become? I never wanted this to happen,”

The estranged childhood friend turned evil dark lord. Previously a softhearted optimist, what Ness had been put through changed him. When you knew him as a child he was training to be a druid, but it seems his plans have changed.

5’9, long wavy blond hair with matching yellow eyes, fair skin spotted with freckles. His ears may not be as pointed as any other fae, but they are pointed nonetheless.

The Angel

Foster (M. he/him)

“God never saved me, never helped me when I needed it most, so why should I believe?”

The angel that doesn’t believe in god with repressed memories of heaven. Foster is the holy statue at the church of Andermyne. Short in both height and temper, it’s easy to rile him up, but maybe a more gentle approach is what you need. Foster is key in your plans to stop the end, but can he be convinced to help?

Foster has short fluffy black hair, olive skin with a smattering of scars, and dark brown eyes. Foster stands at 5’2 with a wingspan twice that length. Over his right eye is a large scar that resembles stone cracking.

The Prince

Casimir Kozanaft (M. he/him)

“I do what i must, and if that’s getting rid of you, so be it,”

As the human prince of Afturella, Casimir has a reputation to uphold. With all eyes on him, he can’t afford a slip-up. Taking care of his younger sister Sonja and younger brother Myla, Casimir has his hands full. As independent as ever, Casimir is fully capable of taking charge.

Casimir is 5’8 with shoulder length auburn hair he keeps tied back. He has soft hazel eyes and tan skin with a mole under his left eye. Casimir is commonly said to look pretty, almost like a girl.

The Ranger

Amihan (M. he/they)

“You don’t have to worry about a thing, i’ve got you”

Your protector, the sylph ranger. Amihan’s only goal is to keep you and your group alive, even if it’s at the expense of their own life. With a martyr complex and no regard for human life, Amihan makes a great bodyguard, not so much a great friend.

6’4, smooth brown skin, curly white hair and silver eyes, Amihan is often described as imposing, towering over most. Over his left eye Amihan has a black sylph tattoo, spiraling over.

The Beast

Freyja (F. she/they)

“Don’t touch me, don’t go near me, don’t even look at me,”

Freyja is a wild thing. Living in the Windwood forest, she’s been isolated for so long. She rejects humanity, fighting against all she sees until there is only peace. Hostile and aggressive, Freyja sees nothing in you, but can you change their mind? All she is may just be a damaged soul.

Freyja is 5’5, with long, curly chestnut hair and fierce yellow eyes. If you catch her smiling you’ll see sharp canines. She has light brown skin, spotted with white freckles. Leaves and twigs tangled in her hair around tall antlers. Freyja has ash speared across her eyes and covering her hands.

The Princess

Sonja Kozanaft (F. she/her)

“You don’t know me, stop acting like you do,”

A stone faced, cold hearted woman who only cares about herself. Sonja is closed off and aloof, not wanting to open her heart up. Sonja doesn’t trust easily and her default response to anything is disbelief. Sonja seems like an ice queen, but is there more to it?

5’6, Sonja looks as royal as she is. Sonja has long wavy blonde hair, spotless fair skin, and blue eyes.

The Huntress

Maeryn (F. she/her)

“Such a shame you’re fae, i would’ve loved to have you as my partner,”

Maeryn is what most would call ruthless or crazy. So much blood is on her hands but she’s proud of the fact. Her words can be sharp, but they can also be sweet. You never truly know what’s on her mind, hard to read and conniving. Once she likes someone, she sticks to them, ever so loyal. Is there a motive behind her actions?

The tallest out of the bunch, Maeryn stands at 6’6. She has long blonde locs, violet eyes, and brown skin.

The Priestess

Lumina Durren (F. she/they)

“May Andermyne bless your kind soul,”

Lumina is a kindhearted priestess in the church of Andermyne. Everything she does is gentle- the way her hands clasp together in prayer, even when she lifts a book she treats it with the care you would give an animal. The caretaker of the church’s orphanage, they teach the kids that have nobody left to turn to. But in good, there is always evil.

Lumina is 5’3, with long curly ginger hair, two front strands blonde. She has green eyes and pale skin. With her priestess outfit you can see a four pointed star tattoo on her collarbone.

The Noble

Eliana Derlot (F. she/her)

“Don’t say that, I gave you what you wanted, didn't I?”

Lady of House Derlot, Eliana knows her way around the intricacies of the court. Used to facades and snakes, Eliana has a hard time believing things said, yet values honesty at the same time. The young Lady knows what she wants and how to get it, making her a valuable addition.

Eliana is 5’7, with long wavy brown hair and tanned skin. She has sea green eyes with a mole under her left.

#interactive fiction #interact if #windwood #twine if #IF #interactive novel #fantasy #romance #IF novel #intro post

[lailoken]

is it okay to ask you if there is any way you divide or classify the fae?

Classifying the Others in this way is notoriously difficult to do with any degree of satisfaction, and I have taken up multiple viewpoints throughout the course of my life. However, there is one murky outline of sorts which has been continually reinforced by my personal gnosis over the past couple of years. After taking some time to ponder the matter, I've decided to share it here. However, some of this is contigent on my understanding of the realms and how they "touch" each other, so it may be worth reading this post where I discuss the "layers" of the Otherworld.

Based on my experiences of working with the Gloaming Ones, there are six broad "clades" or "courts" that they seem to generally fall into. These are not "species" or anything of the sort, but instead, represent larger archetpyal and behavioral patterns that I've observed in the course of my work with the Gloaming. These include:

The Elemental Court — These are ecological spirits of the Gloaming, often viewed as spirits of nature. As I understand it, these spirits are, indeed, Fae, but they reside almost entirely in the Upper Realm of the Otherworld (sometimes known as the Astral Plane) where they lay "just beneath the skin" of physical reality as we understand it. While they remain "rooted" to the Otherworld, they touch our plane directly, where they are manifested physically as forces and organisms of nature. Due to these wights having "one foot in this world and one foot in the other", as it were, they are known for their propensity to help usher the living between the physical plane and the planes of the Otherworld.

The Ravening Court — This is an especially broad Court, which includes all manner of "goblin" wights of the Gloaming—ranging from benevolent house spirits, to spirits of haunting, to spirits known for their specifically bloodthirsty behavior. As I understand it, these spirits hail from the "Inner Realm" of the Otherworld, but are known to weave back and forth through the Inner and Upper realms, untethered, and are the most likely after Elementals to breach the physical plane and seek out people—whether for Compact or for Haunting.

The Lambent Court — This clade essentially encompasses the beings known best as Elves—explicitly humanoid spirits of great age and power, who reside within the Inner Realm of the Otherworld, also known as Elphame. While they make their homes in the Inner Realm, they posess a certain capacity for "opening the way" to both the Upper and Lower Realms. They're known to contact and affect our physical plane as well, though, it's rare for them to "stay" here long.

The Chasmic Court — The spirits of this court are tied intimately to the workings of death. Most are psychopompic in nature (Soul Reapers and Conductors of Katabasis), though among them are also "Death-Watchers" (Harbingers of coming death), and "Corpse-Eaters" (entities drawn to the mortific energy created/left behind by the dying). While these spirits move with ease through all the realms, they remain fundamentally tied to the "Lower Realm"of the Otherworld where they make their home (known more prominently as the Underworld).

The Elder Court — These are beings often considered as "minor deities", or as Faerie Monarchs, and they represent the first generation of entities born of the Gods. These wights span all realms simultaneously and, while they have continuous "access" to the physical plane, they rarely make themselves known to individuals.

The Deific Court — Somewhat self-explanatorily, this refers to the Gods of the Gloaming. What distinguishes these beings in particular is difficult to pin down exactly, though, they are extremely old, immensely powerful, and they seem to represent the progenitors of most other Gloaming Spirits. What's more, the Gods appear to span all realms at once—just as their first generation of children do —but they also seem to exist "outside" of the realms altogether, to some degree.

As I said, this is based entirely on my personal experiences, and really, the Gloaming Folk are simply too mysterious and manifold to truly and thoroughly codify, but this rough outline has proved useful to me.

#gloaming folk #fae #faerie faith #the fae #fair folk #good neighbors #otherworld #spirits #wending way #personal gnosis

[metanoiamorii]

Looking for Roleplay Partners

I'm Morri, or Mario. I'm twenty-three [23] and I've been roleplaying on and off for as long as I can remember. It's gone hand-in-hand with writing. It's around time I try to start to meet new roleplay partners and expand my network again. I was previously on Wattpad before it met its timely end for most of us. I moved to discord but it went quiet and I have only been in a small circle since. What to expect and know from me? I am honestly bad at replying steadily, but I am ALWAYS talking about the roleplays and making ideas and headcanons with my partner(s). I will reply with lengthy messages for a week, then struggle to form a basic response for a few weeks, then the cycle continues. But I am always dedicated to the roleplay(s) I am in, even if I struggle to show it. I'm also extremely literate. I will give you novella-length responses. I can't do small responses even if I tried, to ask any of my roleplay partners. But I don't expect anyone to match my length! I just ask to not be given one or two sentences to work off of. I LOVE knowing what is going on inside a character's head, or how they're feeling. It really helps to build everything up. I also do third-person only.

And I also ask for 18+ only, please. I feel awkward talking to minors unless it's to basically mentor them.

I also love tropes. Tropes are great. Especially if you break away and add twists to them, and get creative!

I play a vast array of characters. Almost all ocs. The only ones that aren't ocs are based on gods or divine beings. Either way, all my characters are queer, that explore different mental illnesses and backgrounds. I could not play a character that's cishet to save my life(no hate for anyone, it's just something I have struggled with). That's not to say I don't do m/w relationships, because I do. My characters are just not cishet (they're either bi/ace/pan/demi/enby/etc).

I also enjoy mature themes. But I ALWAYS discuss boundaries with my roleplay partners. The dos, the don'ts, the boundaries, the triggers, the likes. A lot of my focus is on fantasy, for the most part. Dark, romantic, historical, epic, horror, you name it. I overall enjoy just about anything? EXCEPT, I stay in my comfort zone. Which is one of the two universes I've world built into existence.

The first is entirely fantasy, with different realms/worlds to explore. A vast array of plotlines to explore. Crime/mafia, piracy, eldritch horrors, kingdom diplomacy, witches. You name it, I have it. Probably too much. I've been told it's overwhelming when I gain a new roleplaying partner.

The other is one I've just recently started to build. It's a bit like POJ and Everafter High met. A bit of fantasy, a bit of history, a bit of religion. Every character is either a demigod, a god, a divine being, a fae, a human, or another being...

It's going on late for me after being awake for seventeen hours, so I'm not doing a lot of justice for my stuff. But I really want more roleplaying partners and friends! I have cute little servers for both universes, building into small communities. And I also have adjacent servers for the novels I'm writing that deal with the plotlines and whatnot.

I don't know what else to say at the moment except please, please, please I am begging you to message me. We can talk here in dms and I'll send you, or you can send me your discord tag so we can move over there and start to plot! I should probably get to bed now. Thank you for reading this far.

#discord rp #discord roleplay #roleplay partner wanted #roleplay partner search #roleplay partner ad #roleplay partner needed #roleplay partner finder #rp partner wanted #rp partner search #rp partner needed #rp partner ad #rp partner finder #discord roleplaying #discord roleplayer #oc rp #oc roleplayer #rp wanted #group roleplay #roleplay community #mature rp #literate rp #literate roleplay #semi literate rp #semi lit rp #semi literate roleplay #fandomless rp #original rp #original roleplay #oc roleplay

[frenchfrywrites]

can i req smth with tummy bulge and breeding with malleus and lilia? id like to be more specific but im all out of brain juice so ill let u be LMAO :')

Tummy bulge and breeding with Lilia + Malleus

MINORS DNI

Malleus

He didn’t know he’d be into either one of these things, but takes to it like white on rice

I think, as a dragon fae, there’s something about a breeding kink that itches the hind part of his brain

He’ll really like it if you refer to yourself as his mate

It just feels right and makes him feel all gooey inside

(plus omg it just enforces that you love him enough to mate, please lmao his heart is doing cartwheels)

As for the tummy bulge-

It just drives him a but crazy that you’re so big you can fuck around his insides to make room for yourself

I think he was terrified the first time he saw it but when he realizes it’s you he’s awestruck and unable to look away

When he reaches down he’s so gentle

It never gets old for him he’ll always be taken aback and horny over it

Lilia

Oh my fucking god Lilia loses his shit over both breeding and tummy bulges

He loves raising kids and having you talk dirty about fucking him full of yours has him cumming quick

When you cum in him he’ll make you stay inside to make sure it “takes” 

Or if you do pull out he’ll finger the cum that threatens to slip out back into himself

He’ll take to any parental title too, mommy, daddy, or simply mate

All of them make his heart flutter and his dick twitch

(He’ll def call you mommy/daddy/mate too, whatever you prefer)

He’s also so tiny it’s easy to get his tummy to bulge

He likes to stroke it with both his hands, massaging you through his skin

But he also likes it when you touch the bulge (so he might guide your hands to touch him there)

He wants you to tell him that you’re fucking into his womb and filling it up 

Makes him frenzied and insane !!

#yeah im running on low brain juice too anon.. but i hope you like these <3 #I def think theyd both be crazy abt breeding n tummy bulges hehe #rq #brainrot #twst #spice #sub twst #malleus #lilia

[j-nipper-95]

Fic Rec (plus late Six Sentence Sunday) Monday!

Ok, so I’m late posting this, but oh well. It’s being posted!

I’m not sure if my tumblr notifications are working properly at the moment (I know I missed at least one tag last week, so if I’ve missed your tags the last couple of weeks I’m sorry, I’m not ignoring you, tumblr is acting up!) but I’m still alive. I’m back, and I have words to share!

July’s Camp NaNoWriMo has been amazing for getting words down for COTTA, and I am finally back on track with following the El Dorado plot line again! I managed to double the word count goal I had by 1am this morning, so all in all, a very productive month. So without further ado, here’s six(teen) sentences from that! Thanks for the tags @artsyunderstudy @theearlgreymage and @hushed-chorus (and anyone else if I’ve missed your posts!!)

Baz POV

“Get in the back,” he grunts, nodding at the truck. “I’ll cover you.”

“With what, Snow?”

“Just do it.”

No. I won’t leave him.

“They’ll shoot you on sight,” I say (I plead, I almost beg. Don’t make me face the thought of losing you, Simon). “I can’t get over there without your help,” I add. If there’s one thing I can count on right now, it’ll be Simon’s inner heroism.

“Bet you can,” he says, without thinking.

“Two shillings say I can’t.”

The challenge in my voice is enough to make him turn to glare at me. And knowing how much it irritates him, I cock an eyebrow and tilt my chin up to look down my nose at him.

Snow opens his mouth to argue but snaps it shut when we hear the Now Next almost at the corner we’ve just run around.

“You’re on.”

And then Jas also tagged me in a fic rec post, so here’s a few I’ve been enjoying recently!

Someone Wicked by @artsyunderstudy ([E, 53.9k, Carry On, complete]

I had the chance to beta read this fic with @cutestkilla and oh my God it was a rollercoaster of emotions and tender smut and I loved every single second of it!

Normal AU, complicated family relationships, religious guilt, chronic pain rep, escort Simon, this fic had me hooked from the second Ashton pitched it to me! It’s angsty and soft and emotional in all of the ways we’ve come to expect from her fics, and it ticks all of the boxes.

Ashton managed to tackle some really tough emotions and relationship dynamics in this one, and I don’t really want to say any more and risk spoiling any of it.

Check it out if you haven’t yet, but just remember it is explicit with plenty of on page smut/sex scenes!

More Than Friends by @fatalfangirl [E, 19.9k, Carry On, incomplete]

This fic updated today. It was a good day!

Simon and Baz are roommates, and having survived lockdown together their feelings are becoming much more than platonic. Both of them like the other, but neither is willing to compromise their friendship.

Another Normal AU, this time ‘friends with benefits’, featuring lots of unhealthy coping mechanisms, a sexually promiscuous Simon (which I for one am loving!), Baz as a writer, and some new tags that were added today (trigger warnings for mentions of past ab*se and panic attacks).

This fic is updating currently, and I cannot wait to see what Stacy has in store for the boys! (Again, it’s explicit, so minors begone!)

What Remains After the Storm by @hushed-chorus [M, 86.3k, Carry On, complete]

When I tell you this fic had (and still has) me in a fricken chokehold, that’s an understatement! I still think about this fic on a daily basis, and Demi’s writing is simply stunning.

A fantasy/historical fiction(ish) AU, with fae, curses, much pining, and plenty of cute goats.

Simon is a goatherd on the edge of a fishing town, and while he’s not entirely trusted by the townsfolk, he’s not outright despised either. He works the land, and always pays his tithe to the fae. Until he pulls something from the ocean. Or rather, someone. When Baz flees his fae captors and returns home, he and Simon have to work together to help him remember his humanity.

This fic. Oh. My. GOD! Every update had me on the edge of my seat. Do yourself a favour, and go and read this fic. Especially as Demi is considering writing more in the same AU!

Strictly Professional by @palimpsessed [E, 38.5k, Carry On, complete]

This fic completed a couple of days ago, and I didn’t have time to finish reading it until this morning, and my god was it worth the wait!

Simon is a new recruit at Baz’s firm, and he’s joined the company just in time for the professional conference. But not in time to get his own hotel room. Cue only one bed forced proximity fast burn get together!

This fic pays off so quickly in the best way possible! The emotions Pal has managed to get into such a short space of time for the boys is incredible, and had me so invested in this relationship! Baz trying to remain professional, Simon’s unabashed flirting, neither of them managing to keep their hands off each other. Again, every single box ticked!

The Selkie and his Boy by @hushed-chorus [T, 21.8k, Carry On, complete]

It’s very rare that I pick up a T or G rated SnowBaz fic. I usually go for M and above, but once again, Demi had me hook line and sinker with this one.

Every year, Baz and his family holiday in Cornwall (can I just say how much I love Demi’s writing about Cornwall? It’s so nice to see the South West represented in fic!! As a Dorset girl who holidayed a lot in Cornwall as a kid, I love this so much!). Everything goes to plan … most of the time. One year, he meets a boy with bronze hair and blue eyes that utterly captivates him, and who he expects to spend the whole summer getting to know.

But the boy never shows up the next day. Or the next. Or indeed for the next several years.

Flash forward seven years, and an embittered Baz finally meets Simon again, and finds out why Simon never came back all those years ago.

An AU where Simon is a selkie, Baz is still a vampire, and Mordelia is unabashedly sassy!

Tagging (for both SSS and fic recs): @artsyunderstudy @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @aristocratic-otter @palimpsessed @larkral @orange-peony @dragoneggos @prettylightsbigcity @stardustasincocaine @fatalfangirl @cutestkilla @ileadacharmedlife @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @ebbpettier @martsonmars @erzbethluna @hushed-chorus

#six sentence sunday #it’s late but it’s here #also #fic recs #snowbaz #artsyunderstudy #hushed-chorus #palimpsessed #cotta 2023 #the road to el dorado au #1920s snowbaz shenanigans

[axtrr]

Bow Down

hiiii fun fact i wrote this one before last week’s prompt because i play favorites and also i would die for this silly fae prince

Eden Lathurna x Fem!Reader | 18+, minors dni

Warnings/summary: Loss of virginity (Eden), teasing, begging, praise kink, overstimulation, nsft fic, creampie

“Are you sure about this?”

It had only been a month or so since you reunited with your childhood sweetheart and the prince of the forest, Eden, and while he’d longed to touch you for longer than he would ever admit out loud, your memories of him had faded, and it was like you had met for the first time again. He didn’t want to force himself on you, regardless of how badly he wanted you, how in love he’s been with you all these years even in your absence. You nodded, one simple gesture somehow melting his worries away.

“If I wasn’t sure about this, I wouldn’t have brought it up,” you said, turning to give Val a look that translated roughly to ‘you’re not gonna want to be here for at least a few hours,’ and waving him away. The guard very quickly shifted to his avian form and flew out of his and the fairy’s home.

“Trust me, Eden. I want this. If you don’t, you don’t have to, but—”

“No!” He exclaimed, “no, I really want to, I just…I don’t want to make you uncomfortable; this is your home, too, you know? And we still haven’t figured out your memory issues, and then there’s—”

In the same way Eden halted your panic with a soft touch to your face weeks back when you reunited, you interrupted his spiraling anxiety with a kiss, holding the back of his head with one hand and pulling him in. You felt his soft, doe-like ears twitch and heat up as his thudding heartbeat betrayed his attempts to play things cool.

You hadn’t realized, but weren’t surprised that another part of his hesitation was his inexperience with most things sexual. Sure, he’d touched himself from time to time, but he was isolated in the forest, of course he didn’t know the first thing about being intimate with a partner. Val had given him the talk when he was younger, but the harpy wasn’t keen to go into detail with the prince; for all the things Val was good at, explaining things— especially things he didn’t particularly want to explain— was one of his weaknesses.

So, you took the lead. You had him lay down in the nest of blankets he had prepared for you when you first arrived, pressing soft kisses to his cheek, the corner of his lips, and his neck. You lingered a little on that last spot, smiling as you felt his pulse rising. As cute as he was like this, you couldn’t help teasing him. You let your knee rest between his thighs, pushing the airy fabric of his robes up to get easier access— taking notice of the little whimper he let out at the contact. He tried grinding against your knee, but you settled his hips, stopping him from getting the friction he so desperately needed. You chuckled at his soft whines and kissed his neck again, this time leaving hickeys as your fingers trailed downwards.

“Be patient,” you giggled, “I’ll get to that soon.”

When you finally, finally took a light hold of Eden’s shaft, your thumb resting over his slit, he breathed a sigh of relief, blissfully unaware that his torment was about to get so much worse. The poor thing was already so hard that he was leaking precum, making it even easier for your thumb to glide over his slit, the new sensation distracting him too much to notice you moving down until you replaced your fingers with your tongue. You could see him biting his lip to keep himself quiet, and—

“Ah—!”

You took him into your mouth. Having almost completely lost control of the sounds he was making, every move from your tongue was met with embarrassed but overwhelmingly aroused moans. God, if you could talk right now, you’d tease him for it. Before long, you felt a twitch, telling both of you that his climax was fast approaching. Just before your tongue finished him off, though, you pulled away, leaving him before he could cum. He moved a hand down to do it himself, but you grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head.

“Please,” he shuddered, teary pale-red eyes pleading with yours. “I need— I need to—”

“Oh, my poor, sweet prince,” you cooed, “do you need to cum? Is all the teasing leaving that pretty pink cock of yours just aching for relief?”

He nodded, naively hoping that his pleading had worked to convince you.

“Poor thing,” you said, feigning sickly-sweet sympathy as you dipped back down to his dick. “I guess I’ll just have to kiss it better.”

“No, please, I— oh, fuck,” he groaned as you pressed your lips to his tip, fingers lightly grazing the veins that decorated his shaft, pressing another to the underside, then licking a stripe back up to his tip, forcing a shiver from the fairy. Finally, you moved so his legs were between your thighs, and pulled your panties aside to reveal your dripping entrance. Eden’s moans were muffled by your lips on his as you moved to sink his cock deep inside you.

When you had him fully sheathed, he hit a spot that drew out a whimper of your own, and his face somehow reddened even more than it already was. That sound. Oh, he needed to hear that again. He needed to get that sound out of you, over and over again until you were more teary-eyed than he was.

Just as you started moving, he grabbed your wrist, making you pause to look down, wondering if something was wrong.

“Can I…” he started, ears fluttering and giving away his nervousness, “can I try being on top?”

Barely a second after you gave him a nod of approval, you were under him, legs slung over his shoulders and leaving you feeling especially vulnerable. Because of his behavior earlier, you expected him to start off gently, cautiously, slowly, but instead he pushed all the way inside you again, ripping a loud, slightly pained moan from you. He repeated the motion experimentally once more, pleased to hear a similar reaction from you, before beginning to find a rhythm. One hand holding a leg still, accidentally pressing a little too far against you, while the other was flat on the floor to steady himself, the sound of skin hitting skin filled the cottage as he rolled his hips flush against yours repeatedly until the he trembled again, your walls squeezing him in reaction to a twitch in his shaft. You saw him trying to weigh whether or not to pull out, and when you made eye contact with him, he asked you.

“Should I pull—“

“No,” you panted, “please, god, cum inside me.”

He didn’t ask again once he had your permission, sinking all the way back into you one final time as warm cum filled your pretty cunt. As he began to pull out, bodily fluids leaking all over the good blankets, he saw how you shuddered at his cock brushing against your walls, how sensitive you were to touch after cumming, and an awful idea came to mind. After all, you were very eager to tease him until he cried earlier—

Why shouldn’t he return the favor?

#clover's ocs: eden #clover’s ocs #asks open #requests open #monster fucker #monster lover #monster x human #monster x you #my fic #exophilia #monster boyfriend #nsft fic #monster x reader #my writing

[srorgana1]

Invocation

Paring: Vampire Kylo/Hunter Rey

Warnings: Dark Themes (apporaching Dead Dove, you have been warned), Supernatural/Paranormal, Blood, Violence, Gore, Death, NSFW 18+, Sexual Content, Psychological and Physical Torture, Kidnapping, Hatred towards organized religion, Pain, Major/Minor character death/injury, Demonic Possession

Chapter Eleven

As Kylo watches everyone attend to Mara, he is struck by two thoughts. One, this is much much bigger then he could have ever imagined. The Devil’s Guard; his most trusted followers, are planning to restore him to this plain through use of dark rituals and those taken. Second, he never felt more right with Rey in his arms. She fit like a puzzle piece, her magick accepting his own like an old friend.

“Come, we need to talk” he whispers into her ear. She doesn’t respond at first, her eyes glued to the scene in front of her. “Rey” he whispers again. She looks at him, her hazel eyes striking through him. “Let’s give them some space” he says, offering her his hand. She nods as she takes it and leads them out.

They are both silent as they exit the room and stand a bit further down the corridor. The low flames from the torches cause the shadows to dance across the dark stone. She turns and faces him, her face full of questions. “Rey, I know that was a lot and I’m sorry. I’m also sorry for not telling you all who I am, but I had to be sure The Order was not responsible for the disappearances” he says as his knuckles graze her bicep.

She stiffens at his words. “Why would you ever think that? We aren’t monsters” she hisses. “I know that now, but there have been others in the past. There have been too many who took it upon themselves to cleanse this world of us” he says. He sees her eyes spark at his words as her shoulders slumped.

His long dead heart breaks slightly for her. “I know how it feels to be alone Rey. I know the ache and the last thing want you to do is deal with this new revelations on your own” he says, his hand lightly cupping her jaw.

“I have felt so alone for so long and now it makes sense” she says, nuzzling involuntarily into his hand. “Somehow I knew and now I need to figure out how to go on.” She feels Kylo moving closer. “You don’t need to do this on your own because you are not alone. You have people who care about you. That much is clear” he retorts softly.

She snorts, laughing bitterly. “I don’t know about that. I’ve always been the outcast here” she says, her eyes becoming more sullen. “No, don’t you dare” Kylo growls, gripping her chin a bit tighter. “You are special. You are Fae which is literally all that is light and good in this god forsaken world. Do not sale yourself short.”

Her hazel eyes shimmer with ancient magic as she stares at him. “You need a teacher Rey. Someone to help you focus and develop your powers. If what Mara said is true, we will need you” he says, is thumb rubbing her jaw lightly.

She sighs as she looks away. “Only if you help me” she whispers. It made the organ in his chest jump a little. “Of course” he vowed. She nods as his grip softens on her chin. If he could be completely honest, he wishes he could just crowd her and kiss her frets and worries away. Make her his. He can feel his hunger rising.

Thankfully, he hears Mara’s wheelchair squeak before the door opens. He looks over, gauging how much time they have. She must have heard it too because she stepped back from him. His hand fell to his side, fingertips tingling. He gives her a soft look as the door creaks open to Jyn pushing Mara in her wheelchair followed by the others. She looks no worse for wear, the only evidence of the episode is the slight shine on her forehead.

Mara smiles seeing Kylo and Rey standing together. “Nurture that connection, we will need it” she says as she looks at Trudgen. “Call the Team and notify The Council. We must plan. Come Reyna.” Kylo’s eyes immediately switch to Rey as she steps forward to follow them.

She gives him a look as she passes him; a quiet promise to continue this discussion later. He watches Trudgen nod as Jyn rolls Mara away followed by the Witches and Rey. Kylo is left in the darkened corridor with Trudgen, his thumb quickly typing out a message on his phone.

Guess this is the best time as any. “How did you get involved in all this and where is Luke?” he says crossing his arms against his chest. “I work for the American CIA currently. I was assigned when Asher disappeared at Vicrul's request” Trudgen says, putting his phone away. Figures, Kylo thinks. “You have always been a man of action Trudgen” Kylo says, smirking.

“Call it my gladiator blood” Trudgen quips back “but I must say I am surprised Vicrul got you to come back. You were quite determined to leave and never get involved with this shit again. But honestly I am glad you are here.” Kylo shifts uncomfortably at the thought of them looking to him to be their savior again. “Look Kylo, both of know what could happen. We swore we would stop it and we did. Now these bastards want to do it again. We gotta finish this” he says, his eyes flashing.

Kylo sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. He knows they are all right. These people were taken to be sacrificed to bring darkness into the world, and he would be just as bad as those doing this if he just stood by. He’s in too deep. Plus he can’t let Vicrul and Jessica’s son die because of his conflictions.

“Luke is gone by the way. He left shortly after The Council was set up. According to Mara, he felt responsible for all the pain and suffering everyone had gone through" Trudgen says sadly. Kylo nods, understanding. "I have an idea Trudgen, but it’s risky” he says as he rubs his jaw. He watches Trudgen smirk as he grabs for his phone again. “At least that hasn’t changed” he mutters “what’s the plan?”

---

Poe sighs as he runs a hand through his messy curls, flicking the remains of his cigarette away. The rusted iron elevator door squeaks as it creaks open. This place is dump he thinks as he enters. The door shuts and starts to move. He shivers as he drops his glamour. Fucking finally. He shakes his head, feeling relived that his magick is able to be freed.

The mission had taken a toll on him. Besides dealing with the bullshit of the job and sabotaging the current investigations he supposed to be solving, suppressing his magick was taxing. He noticed at times his coworkers looking at him odd. One of the stupid little interns even mentioned offhand she thought she saw black veins around his eyes.

The elevator stops and slowly opens to a dark and dank hallway. He can hear whimpering and soft cries from the cells on either side. He passes them, mentally preparing himself. His superiors are defiantly higher level demons than him and their magick is intimidating. He hears a loud scream further down the hall as he knocks on the large metal door in front of him.

The door opens to a state of the art surveillance room. Multiple close caption video screens line the wall along with a control board. Most show the interior of the cells along with the doors, hallways and outside perimeter. Poe views the wall, focusing on a young man pacing in a cell. He can see him yelling at the camera, his eyes glowing gold.

He hears a dark chuckle next to him. He turns to see Pryde, Wilhuff and Krennic all standing there in various stages of annoyance. “He’s a handful, just like his father” Pryde says smirking. Poe nods as he turns to his superiors.

“Report Dameron” Wilhuff snaps, his black eyes focusing on him. “The Order is spinning their wheels. I have placed enough decoys and false information they will have no idea what’s real and what’s not” Poe says evenly.

He sees Pryde scowl. “And Ren?” he says. Shit, Poe thinks. “All I know is he is investigating the disappearances. Unfortunately I am unsure of his true intentions. I have barely spoken to him" he says. He sees them narrow their eyes at him. “Well we need you to find out” Krennic hisses.

“Yes sir” Poe responds lowly as the three turn back to the screens. “We are close. We only need one more and than Ren. His Dark Eminence is ready to return and extract his revenge” Wilhuff says. “Dameron, you know your orders. Get to Ren. Find out his intentions and his weaknesses. Knowing him, he probably has something planned” Pryde growls.

Poe nods as he exits the room. Shutting the door, he takes a deep breath. Fuck. This just got more complicated. He didn’t want to get too close to Ren. He had heard of his power, his rage. The last thing he wants to do is incur that. No, he needs to find his soft spot…

Poe stops suddenly, remembering something. Just last week he had walked into the conference room to him and Rey bickering. He had caught the longing look he gave her when she turned and walked away. Interesting, he thinks as a malicious smile spreads across his face. Yes, that’s it. Rey Johansson. Kylo Ren’s weak spot. Perfect.

Thank you everyone for your time ❤️❤️❤️

Also thank you to my Beta @mrs-zimmerman for taking the time out of her day to hear my crazy ideas ❤️ IYU

#adam driver #knights of ren #kylo ren au #kylo ren #vampire kylo #vampire au #vampire #kylo ren x rey #hunter rey #reylo au #reylo smut #reylo #rey nobody #adam douglas driver #adamdriver #star wars au #kylo fanfic #Spotify

[dark-roleplay-finder]

{🥀🕊️} tldr about me; 24f she/her, novella multi-page writer, fantasy / zombie apocalypse / historical fiction, mxm & mxf and doubles-friendly, nsfw and dead dove friendly but will discuss limits and triggers, eastern time zone, plotting and worldbuilding heavy, discord pinterest and spotify are my best friends!

tldr looking for; heavily literate 18+ long-term rp partner, a lover of fantasy (fae, demons, dragons, chosen ones and dark lords, etc) or open to supernatural historical fiction or dark zombie-centric apocalyptic threads. replies preferably at minimum once a week, and please no ghosting–i am very understanding of real life and burnout so if we need breaks thats okay! discord + pinterest friendly, and must vibe ooc! romance is required, as well as being okay with lgbtq+ characters, dark themes, and nsfw content.

read below for more details if this sounds like your cup of tea~

hi friends, i’m 24f she/her, looking for someone similar in age (18+ required, absolutely no minors, preferably 20+) who loves fantasy, monsters, romance, and loooong lengthy replies. i’ve been writing for the past 15+ years with dreams of one day being published, and have been roleplaying for the past 10+ years, though i’ve been on an extended hiatus. i’m recently quit my job (living in EST) so my schedule is pretty open to start writing together! Even though i have a lot of new free time, i do have a partner and responsibilities, and am also aware of burnout, real life, and mental health so never be afraid to pull the breaks for a few days, weeks, or months if we need to but please communicate that. i almost exclusively write medieval high fantasy, but also enjoy historical fiction (absolutely nothing modern ie. 1930's onward) and lately have been into zombie apocalypses as i’m rewatching twd. i only work with originals, ocxoc, but am open to playing with a canon universe as long as we make it our own! i’m mainly looking for mxm and mxf romance since that’s what i have the most experience with, but i am lgbtq+ friendly. i prefer a partner who is open to writing a wide range of characters, not just female ocs or “submissive” types, just to ensure we keep the threads fresh for both of us. i’m more than happy to double and work on multiple threads as well. i like a heavy emphasis on troubled characters with real flaws, trauma, and their subsequent development, exploring interesting relationship dynamics both healthy and toxic, and extensive worldbuilding + magic systems. customized discord servers, fanart, headcanons, drawn maps of our worlds, couples playlists, pinterest boards–you name it, i love it and am here for it.

concepts in mind; while i don’t have any set plots, characters, or worlds (i generally enjoy figuring this out organically with my partner) there are some things that i like to write and cliches i love to see. Anything with fae, monsters, demons and witches, interesting takes on vampires + werewolves, i’m here for! i love fairytale retellings and mythology, and playing with religious motifs and inspiration (think paradise lost). themes of rebellion, war-torn kingdoms, corrupt monarchies, prophecies, racing against the clock to defeat eldritch world-ending monsters, dark overlords, magic always has a price, everyone is living on borrowed time just to name a few. when it comes to romance tropes, you can never go wrong with enemies to lovers, soulmates, forbidden romance, arranged/forced marriage, hidden identity, the hero falls for the villain. i foam at the mouth for soft ocs that snap and go feral, not a god’s chosen but a god’s cursed, the found family out of a band of ragtag misfits, complex villains who are actual people, i could literally go on for hours.

other tidbits; i don’t write canon characters or with fandoms, but i do enjoy my fair share of shows, books, and video games! i'm open to taking inspiration from any of them, so i’ll list a few if it helps give a better idea of what i’m into and possible interests we might share–

shows/movies: game of thrones + house of the dragon, outlander, the walking dead, pride and prejudice, stranger things, lotr, twilight

books: a court of thorns and roses + throne of glass, six of crows + shadow and bone, the night circus, and many more

games: animal crossing, legend of zelda, the sims, dragon age, stardew valley, the last of us

contact; if you are interested in any of this, like this post and i'll message you or comment with your discord username and i'll add you

Like this post and the asker will reach out!

#roleplay #roleplay ad #1x1 rp #discord rp #18+ rp #original rp

[findyourrp]

{🥀🕊️} tldr about me; 24f she/her, novella multi-page writer, fantasy / zombie apocalypse / historical fiction, mxm & mxf and doubles-friendly, nsfw and dead dove friendly but will discuss limits and triggers, eastern time zone, plotting and worldbuilding heavy, discord pinterest and spotify are my best friends.

tldr looking for; heavily literate 18+ long-term rp partner, a lover of fantasy (fae, demons, dragons, chosen ones and dark lords, etc) or open to supernatural historical fiction or dark zombie-centric apocalyptic threads. replies preferably at minimum once a week, and please no ghosting–i am very understanding of real life and burnout so if we need breaks thats okay! discord + pinterest friendly, and must vibe ooc! romance is required, as well as being okay with lgbtq+ characters, dark themes, and nsfw content.

read below for more details if this sounds like your cup of tea~

hi friends, i’m 24f she/her, looking for someone similar in age (18+ required, absolutely no minors, preferably 20+) who loves fantasy, monsters, romance, and loooong lengthy replies. i’ve been writing for the past 15+ years with dreams of one day being published, and have been roleplaying for the past 10+ years, though i’ve been on an extended hiatus. i’m recently quit my job (living in EST) so my schedule is pretty open to start writing together! Even though i have a lot of new free time, i do have a partner and responsibilities, and am also aware of burnout, real life, and mental health so never be afraid to pull the breaks for a few days, weeks, or months if we need to but please communicate that. i almost exclusively write medieval high fantasy, but also enjoy historical fiction (absolutely nothing modern ie. 1930's onward) and lately have been into zombie apocalypses as i’m rewatching twd. i only work with originals, ocxoc, but am open to playing with a canon universe as long as we make it our own! i’m mainly looking for mxm and mxf romance since that’s what i have the most experience with, but i am lgbtq+ friendly. i prefer a partner who is open to writing a wide range of characters, not just female ocs or “submissive” types, just to ensure we keep the threads fresh for both of us. i’m more than happy to double and work on multiple threads as well. i like a heavy emphasis on troubled characters with real flaws, trauma, and their subsequent development, exploring interesting relationship dynamics both healthy and toxic, and extensive worldbuilding + magic systems. customized discord servers, fanart, headcanons, drawn maps of our worlds, couples playlists, pinterest boards–you name it, i love it and am here for it.

concepts in mind; while i don’t have any set plots, characters, or worlds (i generally enjoy figuring this out organically with my partner) there are some things that i like to write and cliches i love to see. Anything with fae, monsters, demons and witches, interesting takes on vampires + werewolves, i’m here for! i love fairytale retellings and mythology, and playing with religious motifs and inspiration (think paradise lost). themes of rebellion, war-torn kingdoms, corrupt monarchies, prophecies, racing against the clock to defeat eldritch world-ending monsters, dark overlords, magic always has a price, everyone is living on borrowed time just to name a few. when it comes to romance tropes, you can never go wrong with enemies to lovers, soulmates, forbidden romance, arranged/forced marriage, hidden identity, the hero falls for the villain. i foam at the mouth for soft ocs that snap and go feral, not a god’s chosen but a god’s cursed, the found family out of a band of ragtag misfits, complex villains who are actual people, i could literally go on for hours.

other tidbits; i do not write canon characters or with fandoms, but i do enjoy my fair share of shows, books, and video games! i'm open to taking inspiration from any of them, so i’ll list a few if it helps give a better idea of what i’m into and possible interests we might share–

shows/movies: game of thrones + house of the dragon, outlander, the walking dead, pride and prejudice, stranger things, lotr, twilight

books: a court of thorns and roses + throne of glass, six of crows + shadow and bone, the night circus, and many more

games: animal crossing, legend of zelda, the sims, dragon age, stardew valley, the last of us

contact; if you are interested in any of this, like this post and i'll message you or comment with your discord username and i'll add you

.

#rp finder #18+ rp #fandom rp #fandom roleplay #oc rp #fandomless rp #historical rp #zombie apocalypse rp