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domesticandlovingmonsters · 15 days

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Pick Your Romance Starter- Dark Fae Addition

Plot/Story: Oh no, you've fallen into the Fae Realm through a circle of mushrooms. How convenient, I mean inconvenient! And look, there's some hot Fae men wanting you're attention...how so very clique. But they're not all flowers and sunshine. That would be too damn easy, wouldn't it?

Warnings: Dark Fae, slight non-con touch, blood, 10k words

Notes: The dry-spell has finally worn off and I present to you a little morsel of writing.

Poll is 'here' (Patreon) and here (Tumblr)to choose which character is written for first!

Poll has been finished! Hezirus got the pick. Here is another poll to choose what type of spicey story you want with him.

This is all based on a world built together with a friend. The characters are OCs of mine we play with and use in our stories together. And for your amusement, and torture for my friend, I have started a series where you pick which one I write for first.

This will be a heavy female x male character story. I apologize to my MxM and FxF readers. But I do plan on making these three fuck eventually. Just because it's fun.

And by all means, give me ideas and feedback. I crave the attention!

Enjoy!

The sharp iron-like smell filled your senses and you felt yourself falling. The warm night air turned bitterly cold and the light from the street disappeared into a wall of black. You blinked. The wind whooshing around you was as loud as a hurricane; before your feet slammed onto stone and you stumbled into something hard and cold. And everything went unnaturally quiet.

You opened your eyes. Blinking rapidly to remove the haziness from your vision as you reached out, calling for your friend. It was dark. Too dark for your eyes just yet.

Your fingers found the cold bars of something circling you. Your hand followed it until you pushed away and stood on your own two feet. Swaying a little, the alcohol still affected your body even as the adrenaline coursed through you.

Finally, after some more blinking and squinting into the dark, your eyes adjusted. And horror filled your stomach as you looked around you.

You were in a cage. An iron cage in the center of a dark room. The floor, the pillars, the walls, all made from gray, smoothed stone. Dust layered the ground like a blanket around your small prison. And thick, but empty, cobwebs lined the corners of the room.

It didn’t look like anyone had been in here for…a very long time.

Your eyes caught the faintest touch of blue light on the floor and you looked down. Finding a glowing ring of sigils carved into the floor, fully encircling your cage. And everytime you moved, the strange letters pulsed with energy and that sharp smell filled your nose once more.

Something in you whispered that it was the same diameter of the mushroom circle you had jumped into… And with that thought, horror filled you. It had happened. It actually…worked. But not in the way you expected.

You don’t know how long you stood in that cage for, calling out into the darkness. It was long enough that the effects of tonight's drinks had worn off and the feeling of dehydration was starting to kick in.

The cold of the room settled on your skin like ice. And you tried to huddle up as much as you could, trying to preserve as much body heat as possible. But the cold iron and the freezing stone was sapping away at your warmth like a hungry beast.

Eventually, just as you started to think you’d be in this dark room forever, a door opened. One you didn’t see at the far end of the room that spilled bright, warm sunlight into the shadows. Making the twilight scatter and your eyes hurt from the blinding rays.

“Well, well, well, I thought all my little traps had been sealed off.” A velvety voice echoed from the doorway. The very sound settled on your skin like the breeze of an autumn afternoon. “What a surprise, indeed.”

Something shifted to your right but when you looked, only darkness stared back. Hiding behind a stone pillar, escaping the bright morning light.

You blinked until the sunlight stopped blinding you and the stranger approached. His boots echoed in the empty room as he closed the distance. His face silhouetted by the soft glow of the blue circle at his feet.

He was handsome. Very handsome. The type of handsome you would take a second glance at because you weren’t sure if your brain properly processed his face. His hair was a slight mess, a dark but silky tangle of blonde and deep brown. Matching a gaze that was fixed, but curious. And you felt every inch of your skin alight with a cold fire when those copper coloured eyes raked over your body. Not an inch of you was left untouched by his gaze. And it left you a little breathless when he smiled.

But your mind was racing. A voice deep within your mind was telling you to run. To hide. Get away from this man and never look back.

“What’s your name, sweet thing?” The man asked. The softest curl of a smirk twitching the corner of his lips.

But you didn’t give it. You weren’t stupid. And you remembered what happened. You jumped into a ring of mushrooms and suddenly you were falling. Even if you could blame this on a drunken dream, you still didn’t give this man your name.

When you didn’t reply, the smirk stretched fully across the stranger's face. “Ah, so you’re smart. That’s cute. I haven’t had a smart one in a long time. Come along, then. Let’s get you cleaned up. You’re exactly what I need to make up for my little blunder last night.”

The cage groaned around you and three of the metal bars slid into the ground. Allowing you a doorway to step out of your small prison and into the stream of light from the door.

The stranger didn’t look at you as he led the way out of the cold stone room. But still addressed you as you stepped out into the light. “My apologies for leaving you in that cold room all night. We had a little…accident, and I was busy until this morning.”

The man led you into a long corridor of more stone. Though the temperature was vastly more welcoming than the room, it was just as empty and just as dusty. You passed many doors like the one from where you landed. Some were left open, revealing more empty areas with a single cage. Others were closed but something dark marked the metal entryway. It looked suspiciously like old blood.

If this stranger saw you staring, he didn’t give any move to answer your unspoken questions. He led you up a spiraling staircase and a door of heavy carved wood and granite, creaked open before he touched it. Opening up into a sprawling room of many desks and shelves and cabinets.

“Clean her.” The stranger said. And from beneath the desks, dark tendrils launched towards you. Black, clawed hands wrapped around your wrists and ankles. Icy cold fingers latched onto your throat, squeezing just enough to silence the scream of fright from your lungs. Iron strength yanked you forward, making your attempts at fleeing fruitless as you were dragged towards a large basin.

More arms of shadows rose from the stone floor and you watched as steaming hot water was poured into the tub. Buckets of water manifesting from darkness and then disappearing when dropped to the floor.

You didn’t get to take a breath before you were lifted and then dumped into the basin. Hot water burned your skin and drenched your clothes. You gasped for air, but a cold hand slammed your head back under the water and you felt harsh bristles scrape over your bare skin. Something sweet smelling poured onto your hair as your head was yanked back out of the water for a brief moment

You coughed and spluttered, barely getting a breath in before you were dunked back into the water.

Your clothes were torn away. Despite your best effort to keep them against your skin, the material ripped apart under the strength of these shadowy limps. You wrapped your arms around your chest, obscuring the man’s beautiful gaze from seeing too much.

His smile was too sweet. Too wide as you were finally released and you turned your back to him. Your skin burned from the brush and soap. Your hair felt silky and smelled like a field of freshly bloomed flowers. But you were completely bare in front of him.

“That’s much better.” The man said. Leaning against a desk nearby. His molten gaze took in every inch of you before he waved his hand and a shadow presented him with a dress. “Wear this. It suits you much better than…whatever else you were wearing.”

When you didn’t get out of the tub, the man sighed and rolled his eyes. Then he turned around so he was leaning against the desk with his palms on the surface of the table. “I won’t look. Go on, try it on.”

You hesitated. But already the water was starting to get cold and you couldn’t sit in here forever. Curled up and shivering. You sighed heavily and carefully slipped out of the water.

Another shadow appeared beside you with a towel. But it didn’t allow you to take it. Instead, it dried you off, harshly rubbing the soft material against your body until your skin felt sore from the material. But dry.

You grumbled a curse towards the man and snatched the dress from the floating shadow.

Surprisingly, the man kept his word and didn’t turn around. Until you were in the dress and staring down at yourself in horror.

The material was thin…extremely thin… You might as well stand in front of him naked without the gentle glimmer of the sparkly dress. And it was very tight. You could see every curve of your breasts and hips, down to your thighs before the dress spilled out around your feet like a bronze ink spill. The only saving grace to this material was that it darkened around your chest and lower center. Refusing to give a full, clean picture of your body that was hidden beneath the dress.

It didn’t stop the perked peaks of your nipples from the cold air. And the stranger hummed a low sound in his throat as he adjusted the sleeve of the dress and picked at some imaginary lint on your waist.

“Much, much better.” The man said. He started to circle you. His eyes scraped over your body as you stood frozen under his gaze. He picked at the dress and the shadows appeared with trinkets and jeweled chains. Your wrists were wrapped in silk and your neck was decorated by a thin, delicate silver chain with topaz stones resting warmly against your neck. A belt of lace loosely circled your hips and your cheeks were assaulted by a dusting of red. Giving you a small blush before cold hands grabbed your face and the man stepped closer.

His forefinger lengthened, growing a black claw that came to a dangerously pointed tip. And you tried to yank yourself away from him but the shadows held you firmly in place. You could only watch in growing horror as the dark talon descended towards your eye…and cautiously drew a line along your upper lashes. Then the man delicately did the same on the other. Giving you a perfect dark eye-liner flick.

The man then stood back. His other hand held your chin as he tilted your face back and forth, admiring the touches he did to you. The shadows relaxed when you did. And you allowed this stranger to do what he wished with your face.

“What’s your name?” You asked him. Finding this close proximity with the handsome face was filling your chest with sharp flutters. You could see the finer details. The sharp, pointed ears. The tattoos under the collar of his shirt and the dusting of gold along his face. Perhaps a decorative choice?

“Jackal Borcalas, Royal Archivist and Spy Master of the Wilds” His smile was predatory. Proud. Cocky. As if the widening of your eyes gave him a sense of smugness. “But Jackal is fine, sweet thing. And yours?”

He said it so casually you almost willingly gave it to him. Like carrying on a normal conversation. But you clapped your mouth shut and glared up at Jackal. Rewarding yourself with a laugh from the Spy Master.

“Ah, well, you can’t blame a man for trying.” Jackal said, shrugging. Then his hands moved from your face down to your body. Adjusting chains and bracelets and anything else the shadows had placed on you.

But you found his hand barely touched you. His fingers brushed over your hips but didn’t linger for too long. The pads of his fingers glossed over your perked nipples but his eyes didn’t stray any longer than they needed. His attention was too focused on his task that you doubted he even knew where he was touching.

“Gorgeous.” Jackal purred. And despite the hungry look in his eyes, you sensed the genuine compliment behind his words. Or was that just a…Fae thing to get you comfortable around him. “Now, a few things before I throw you to the wolves.”

You felt the blood drain from your face with his words. And that wicked smile returned, alongside the cold touch of shadows as they wrapped around your legs and started moving them. You felt like a doll on strings, puppeteered after Jackal as he turned and exited the room.

Your captor led you into more corridors and halls. Many stone steps and coloured glass windows that bathed you in greens and golds and bronze. You didn’t get to look around. The shadows had you transfixed on watching Jackal’s back as he walked through…wherever you were.

“If you want to live through the day, you will follow these rules to the absolute letter. Do not look directly into his eyes. He gets…crabby when you do it for too long. And keep your hands off of him unless he places them somewhere. He doesn’t like to be touched. Do not turn your back on him unless he tells you to do so, and for the love of the Moon, do not touch his horns. Just…keep your hands to yourself unless you’re ordered otherwise.” Jackal said all this while he led you towards a massive metal door. The shadows relieved their hold just enough that you could finally look around you. But your gaze was transfixed on the entrance before you.

Towering above you was a grotesque, twisted display of melted weapons and armor. Swords Maces Axes Shields Any and all kinds had been liquified against the doors. You spotted helmets and chest plates carved through with spears. All dented, all worn, from battle.

“Oh, and also, for my later entertainment, keep yourself alive.” Jackal whispered, looking over your shoulder at him. “We haven’t had a human here in…centuries. So try to make your stay last a little longer than a few minutes.”

With a wave of Jackal’s hand, the war-torn doors opened with an ear-clawing sound of metal on the stone floor.

A blast of heat slammed into you as a voice as deep as thunder growled from within a dimly lit room. “What do you want, snake?” Your very bones vibrated with the voice. And a knot of fear coiled in your stomach as Jackal entered the room.

The shadows had you follow him and you entered a room that was more like a throne room. It was a vast space of furs and blankets. Blazing fires were cradled in braziers along the walls and candles flickered on hanging chandeliers made of bone and skulls. The scent of sulfur and burning meat filled your nose and you tried not to gag as you passed a body laying on the floor. Three deep gashes tore up the person’s back and blood pooled around their limp body. Their face twisted in agony and terror.

Jackal didn’t even look at it. He continued to stroll into the heated room towards a pile of furs and hides.

“I brought you a gift.” Jackal said. His voice echoing in the massive room. Mixing with the heavy breathing of something huge in front of you. The shadows didn’t let you go. They kept you firmly in place behind Jackal.

Something sniffed the air. And you felt the very air around you shift with each deep breath. You started shaking as the tiled floor trembled. The blast of heat came closer and closer. The heat in the room roared and you felt like your arms were being scorched by a blazing fire. Your ears popped and the tremble through the floor halted, but you heard the distinct sound of bare feet stepping over tile towards you.

And then Jackal stepped to the side and you were suddenly staring at a broad chest of muscle and scales.

The shadows released your head. Allowing you to look up, almost craning your neck all the way back, to meet a burning red gaze of a man. He was massive, much taller than 6ft and broad, rippling with muscle. Scars streaked across his arms and chest, giving a stark pale contrast to his dark complexion. A creature of war and battle.

But what was more terrifying was the plating of black scales that protruded from his dark skin. Horns swept out from atop his head. Splitting apart thick, shiny black hair that was braided amongst the crown of thick spikes. And his gaze was heavy. Watching. Calculating.

Jackal tsked harshly and you quickly dropped your eyes. Remembering what Jackal had said only moments before.

The man in front of you growled, a deep rumble that rippled through you like thunder. “A human?” A voice of stone sounded surprised. And you flinched when a massive hand wrapped around your waist, his fingers almost completely encircling your hips, and yanked you closer.

Black scales filled your vision as the man buried his nose into your hair. You felt him take a deep breath and the growl turned into something like a broken purr as the man laughed a cynical chuckle. “Is this your way of saying sorry, snake?” The scaled man snapped at Jackal. Releasing you before stalking over to the much smaller man.

Despite their size difference, and the display of bared teeth from the other man, Jackal remained perfectly calm. His hands resting behind his back as if he was having a casual conversation with someone.

“This is my way of mending my mistake.” Jackal replied slowly. “Hezirus will want her for himself. But I thought you should get some time with her before she’s claimed entirely. I thought it would be a nice…treat, Maahes, from me to you. From a friend.”

That word brought a snarl out of Maahes. Like he didn’t like how it sounded coming out of Jackal’s mouth. “Watch it, snake. You almost cost me my territory last night. A morsel won’t make up for that blunder.”

“Then let it be the start of my amendment to you.” Jackal titled his chin down in a submissive display. And whatever rage Maahes had, seemed to melt away. You felt the sharp tang of something hit your nose and suddenly the beast in front of you roared.

Claws raked through the marble pillar where Jackal had been standing moments before. Then you felt the shadows retreat and Jackal was standing in the doorway behind you. An amused smile across his lips

Maahes roared again, crimson eyes glowing with a surge of anger. “Keep your filthy magic out of my head!”

The doors slammed closed with a thunderous bang as Jackal laughed. Leaving you alone with a creature that was practically shaking with rage.

Your eyes swooped to the floor when the beast looked at you. You heard the click of claws as he approached. Two dark tree trunks entered your view and you realized he was standing right in front of you. He at least wasn’t naked, wearing a loose pair of dark trousers. But the thin dress did very little to make you feel protected at this moment.

“What is your name?” Maahes asked. You didn’t respond, cowering in front of him. The beast snarled and a rough grip wrapped around the underside of your jaw and forced you to look up at him. You kept your gaze from staring into the pools of rubies, looking at the scar that carved down his neck and to his collarbone. “I am not a Fairy, sweet morsel. I won’t use your name against you. What do I call you?”

You felt him lift you a little. Until you were standing on your tiptoes to stop him from choking you. “(y/n)” You managed to say. And the grip released you.

“Get me a drink, (y/n).” Your name rolled on his tongue like he was tasting you through those words. It sounded awfully sinful to hear it. And you quickly hurried over to the table by the dead body. Where an array of goblets and bottles were laid out. You choose the largest cup and fill it with an amber liquid. You had to carry it with both hands to ensure it didn’t spill and didn’t strain one arm too much. Hurrying back to Maahes, who had returned to lounge on the pile of furs. Which even his massive frame seemed to be swallowed by the vast mattress of pelts.

The beast rumbled. But it wasn’t an aggressive sound. You almost thought he sounded pleased as you carefully climbed onto the furs and offered him the wine. He took the cup from your hands. And as he pressed the wine to his lips, his free hand lashed out and took purchase of your hips before you attempted to step away.

You couldn’t fight him. The amount of strength beneath those fingers alone was enough to pull you towards him with barely any effort.

You found yourself flush against his side. His scales, rough and jagged, pushed painfully against your soft skin. And once you were positioned how he wanted, the hand moved down to cup your ass. His talons caught on the material of your dress as he squeezed hard. Making you wince a little.

“How did the snake manage to catch you?” Maahes asked. Placing his cup precariously on a position of the bed as he moved so he was on top of you. His nose scraped against your neck and you felt his teeth playfully pull at the silver chain around your throat. “Trapping humans was outlawed centuries ago. Did he say some pretty words and you were suddenly here? Or did you fall through a mirror?”

His words were surprisingly teasing for how rough his hands were on your body. The pads of his fingers were calloused and coarse, sweeping along your thighs before moving you so he could settle between your legs. He was massive above you. Obscuring the ceiling and bone chandeliers with his mass.

You explained what happened. Recalling the ring of mushrooms on the side of the walkway on your way home. The stupid decision to test fate and jump into the circle. Laughing, thinking nothing would come of it. And then accidentally said ‘we’ jumped in, and those crimson eyes pulsed intensely.

“There’s two of you?” Maahes asked. Glancing at the door as if Jackal was about to come through it again with another person. You said you didn’t see your friend in the cage and the man shrugged. Returning his mouth to the hollow of your neck. His lips sending goosebumps along your skin as his hot breath bathed along your chest.

It was a long moment of licking and hard nips along your neck before Maahes changed position. Burying his face against your breasts. Even through the dress, you could feel his mouth hungrily take in your left nipple and rake his tongue over the peak.

“No matter. I’ll feast on you first before I worry about someone else's pet.” You felt him shift against you and something huge and hard pressed against your clothed core. Then Maahes raised his mouth and a burning hot tongue seared along your neck, carrying the smell of wine and meat along your flesh, up to your cheek before your lips were harshly trapped between Maahes’.

Your struggling only seemed to amuse Maahes. As you tried to push him off and twist away from him. But just as he forced your lips open with his tongue, the doors to the room blasted open in a cold gust of wind. The flames around you simmered out under the gust and the chandeliers swung wildly above you.

Maahes growled and tore his mouth from yours. He poised above you like a beast protecting a kill. Thick arms caging you against the bed as the sound of his snarl ripped through you. You could feel the vibrations through your core, from where his covered bulge was firmly pressed against your core.

You turned your head, peering around Maahes’ arms to see a gorgeous man standing in the streaming sunlight. Like an angel, wings of bronze and gold framed his tall figure and a thick set of arms were crossed over his chest. Lines crinkled his perfect brow and long chocolate brown hair was kept away from his face by a gold crown of gnarled vines and flowers.

“Maahes,” The man said the beast’s name like a warning. But his tone was playful, teasing. “What have you got there?”

Maahes’ snarl crumbled into a softer sound. But he didn’t move from atop of you. His talons ripped into the furs as his hands turned to fists beside your body. “She’s mine.”

“Not anymore she isn’t.” The angel said. Stepping into the dark room, closer to the creature that was bent low over your frozen body. “I caught her scent on my way to breakfast. I don’t know how Jackal got her, but she’s a guest in my palace. I won’t have you break her on her first morning here.”

Soft, bronze eyes fell upon you and his smile softened. But those warning bells in your head were singing again. Even more so than they had with Jackal. “Give her to me, Maahes.” The man said, his wings opening a touch to make him seem so much bigger than he was. “I won’t ask again.”

The beast above you growled deep and threatening. You braced for something to happen. Another gust of wind. A fist. Claws. Something.

But then the heavy, hot weight of Maahes disappeared as he crawled off of you. And you scrambled off the bed to stand beside the winged man. Hiding behind him as his wing opened to protect you from Maahes’ heated gaze. “Good boy.” The crowned stranger said. A very careful smile placed over his lips. “Do not let me catch you playing with her again.”

Maahes’ gaze lowered to the furs. But you could see the tension in his body and the thick, throbbing vein that was protruding from his neck. He bowed. “Yes, Prince Hezirus.”

That seemed to be enough for the…prince. And he turned, his wing shifting to envelope you in a warm embrace against your back and guiding you out of the room.

The heavy doors slammed shut behind you both. And the wings of the prince moved to lazily return to his back. A different type of heat simmered in his gaze when the prince turned to you. A striking difference from the softness he offered you before. “Now, human, you will tell me how you got here. And why you’re…dressed the way you are.” Despite the quizzical tone, Prince Hezirus’ eyes were just as hungry and heavy as Jackal’s when you first got dressed. You instinctively tried to cover yourself but a narrowed glare from the person in front of you made you halt.

Your arms dropped to your sides as you explained everything. But this time, you kept the ‘we’ out of it. Only insinuating that you alone jumped into the very obvious Fae trap.

“But you know our customs,” The prince hummed. Tilting his head like how a dog did when it was intrigued by something. “You won’t give me your name. You even called the circle a trap. So…you knew what it was.”

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. The drunken stupor of a joke was now very obviously a suicide sentence. “I didn’t think it would work.” You argued. “I was…drunk.”

“Superstition has kept your people alive longer than you’d think. You should start listening to your fable stories, there’s a reason they exist.” The prince began walking and you hurried to follow. The tall man, possibly as tall as the beast on the furs, didn’t shorten his strides to let you keep up. Instead, you had to fasten your steps to almost jog alongside him.

“Where am I?” You asked. Finally looking at your surroundings. There were large paintings that covered the towering walls. The ceiling looked like marble with many hanging candles and torches to illuminate what the sun couldn’t. Massive glass windows bathed your walk with the prince in color. But at least this time you could see the shapes of beasts and battles and fields of flowers as you passed them.

It was all very beautiful.

“You’re in the Fae Wilds. My kingdom.” The prince replied. His chin tilted up with pride as he spoke. “I am Prince Hezirus of the Wilds. Son of Queen Melusine, the Lady of the Forest. You’re in my palace in the deepest forest of our kingdom. My…holiday home, I guess you would call it.”

You stalled for a moment to peek through one of the windows. Spying the grounds of the estate that sprawled out in grassy knolls and flowing creeks that sliced through lush gardens and tumbled through the gnarled roots of mountainous trees.

There were people working in the gardens and some walked the earthy paths through the estate. Someone even started flying into the branches of a nearby tree. With wings like an insect.

A soft cough from the prince made you turn. Finding him standing by the cliff of a long stairwell that led down and into the center of the palace. You quickly hurried back to his side and started descending next to him.

“It’s beautiful.” You said. Unable to keep your eyes on one thing at a time. A man walked past you both, bowing deeply to the prince before walking briskly away. His features reminded you of a rat.

“Thank you. But you will have time to see everything soon. I want you to join me for breakfast.” The prince said. And you followed him down a corridor and into a grand hall. A long table was presented before you. Its surface was chock-full of plates and bowls of food. All steaming, like the dishes had just come out of the oven.

At the end of the table sat a beautifully crafted chair of twisted roots and vines. The cushions looked as soft as clouds and a plate of sourdough bread, bathed in eggs and bacon with a drizzle of white sauce, was sitting awaiting the prince.

Hezirus waved his hand and a chair pulled itself from the table next to the prince. And Hezirus gestured for you to sit, before he flicked his hand and the chair pushed you snugly against the table. A plate was placed in front of you by an owl-faced woman and the prince seated himself in his chair.

Leaning his cheek on his fist, propped up by his elbow on the table, he watched you curiously. “Please, eat. Enjoy.”

The smells of everything laid out in front of you was maddening. Your stomach twisted in hunger and the slight hangover that had plagued you with a headache, wished for water. But you didn’t reach for any of it. And watched the prince take his gaze off you just enough to take a bite out of his egg smothered bread slice.

“So now you start to believe in your fables?” The prince asked. An amused smile twitching his lips as he chewed. “I do not need to charm you to keep you here, lovely thing. You may eat freely. This food is not poisoned and untouched by magic. Other than what is needed to prepare certain dishes.”

You still didn’t reach for anything. Not even the water. Which sat chilled in a glass pitcher in front of you. Like it was teasing you. You shook your head. “Thank you. But I’ll skip breakfast.”

The prince’s eyes flashed gold and suddenly you were reaching for the water. You tried with all your might to stop yourself from pouring a glass, but your hands worked just like they did when the shadows had hold of you.

Puppeteered.

Helpless.

You tried to cry out as your fingers brought the glass of water to your lips. But your body defied you. And you sipped cleanly, without choking, a long draught of water down your parched throat. Once you had placed the glass down you felt your body return to your control and you stood. Almost knocking the chair over as you jerked away from the table.

“Like I said, I do not need to charm you to make you stay.” The prince said. As if you had asked about the weather. So casually glossing over what he just did. “Your tales of us are true…in some sense. But we hold more power than we allowed you to believe. Please. Eat. You look like you’re about to pass out. And I won’t tell you again. You won’t like it if I have to do it myself.”

It was true. You could feel the edge of your mind falling into a dizzy spiral. And the thought of you passing out in front of him made the hunger turn to fear. You shook your head, clearing it, and sat down before your legs gave out. And begrudgingly served yourself some pancakes.

And it was the best thing you’ve ever eaten. Whether it was because of hunger, or the Fae chefs, it was delicious. Even the fruit you ate was sweet and juicy. Perfect. Also too perfect.

But if you didn’t eat, you were sure he’d probably force you too. So, you gave in. As much as the logical side of the brain was screaming at you to stop.

The prince’s gaze never left your lips as you ate. His eyes were persistently on you, even as he devoured his own breakfast and poured a cup of something that smelled strongly of coffee.

“Did Jackal explain anything to you before he shoved you into a room with a horny Drake?” The prince asked. An eyebrow raising when you told him of the rules Jackal gave you. And you added on that you were meant to be a treat, as a means of amendment from Jackal.“At least he wanted you to live through the morning. And yes, Jackal made a small mistake last night. Maahes exaggerates, it wasn’t so bad he’d lose his territory. He’s just angry he lost a bet at all. You were lucky I found you before Maahes went too far. I do enjoy it when Maahes is rough with me. But your delicate body would snap apart the moment he pulls down his pants.”

The rush of heat that exploded in your body, crawling up your neck and into your cheeks made the prince chuckle. “That’s adorable. But also very dangerous. Don’t do that around Maahes. If he gets whiff that you’re into things like him, you’ll be chained to his hips and riding his cock until your body breaks.”

You tried to argue. Maybe say something that it wasn’t arousal, but shock at the prince’s choice of words. But the prince shot you a look that silenced your rebuttal before it began. “I can smell it on you, pet. Don’t even try lying to my face. It won’t end well for you.” His words carried a threat that made your skin crawl with a chill. Even if his tone was light and teasing. Something in his gaze had your heart racing.

“What are you going to do to me?” You asked. You wanted to know, so you could at least brace for whatever was about to happen to you. How many books have you read about similar scenarios? You had the hot, sexy men part ticked off. A strange, weird place in the Fae realm, checked. But this wasn’t a romance. You were just left to the mercy of a creature with scales. Given a hint at the power that could make you do anything the man in front of you wanted.

Your life very much was in danger right now.

“Hmm, I’m not sure yet.” The prince said. Leaning back in his chair as he regarded you with a critical eye. Like he was appraising a piece of art. “But I’m sure you’re asking if I’m going to kill you. Eat your bones. Turn you into a…I don’t know. What do we Fae do to humans? It’s been centuries since I’ve talked to one. But you never forget the scent.” The prince breathed in deeply and released it slowly with a long sigh. When his eyes opened, his pupils were blown wide like he was intoxicated.

“Such a delicious fragrance. It used to drive me mad in my youth. The lust. The hunger. Oh, fuck, the sex…” The prince finally looked at you again. As if suddenly remembering you were there and had asked a question. “No, dear pet, I am not going to kill you. Some of my court might try. But I’ve already ordered them that you are to be untouched. Left only for me to squeeze.”

He flashed you a smile that made his already handsome face become even more beautiful. “Anyone that tries to force themselves on you will meet my wrath. You are welcome to wander the palace. I do suggest staying as far away from Maahes as possible. And don’t go into the gardens until-”

“If I may, Hez.” The sudden voice of Jackal made you jump as he appeared by your side. Seeming to appear out of thin air as he joined you at the table. Sitting to your right. “I suggest we keep her caged until the staff and court get used to the scent of her in the estate. Already there has been enough unrest that Maahes has had his fill of Fae blood. She will be safer in the dungeons until you solidify the order for her to remain untouched.”

The prince played with the fabric of his tunic as he thought over Jackal’s words. His eyes following the line of your neck to your shoulders and then to the material that smothered your breasts into a perfect soft mound. “You make a good point, Jackal. However…because it was your trap that brought her here, she is your responsibility.”

Jackal’s jaw twinged as he glanced at you. “Hez, I cannot afford to be distracted from my work. I cannot continuously check on her in the cells-”

“Then have her in your office until you ensure she won’t be touched down there.” The prince smiled. A sense of amusement flashing over his face as he winked at you. “Jackal will take fine care of you until I have time for you, pet. Stay close to him and do what he says.”

A sharp scent ripped through your nose and you winced as your mind latched onto the words the prince spoke. An order. An order given by a Fae prince laced with…magic.

“I don’t think she’s stupid enough to try and run from me.” Jackal said. Sighing heavily as he took a sausage from one of the plates and took a bite from it. “Come on then, Lily. Time to watch me do paperwork for hours on end.”

“Lily?” Hezirus asked as Jackal stood. You felt your body follow suit. But it wasn’t anything like the cold touch of shadows or the constricting power from Hezirus. You wanted to follow Jackal. You were told to do as he said, and damn well you will do it.

“It’s not her name.” Jackal assured the prince. “She’s as lovely as a lily. So, that��s what I’ll call her.”

“Hmm, I don’t think that suits her.” Hezirus said thoughtfully. Tilting his head as he looked you up and down again.

“Well, she’s your pet. You pick a name for her.” Then Jackal smiled viciously and tapped the tip of your nose. “Or are you going to introduce yourself?”

When your glare was the only reply they got, the two men laughed and Jackal clicked his tongue. You followed him like a puppy on a leash, up many staircases and through many corridors. Until you found yourself back in the room you started in. Where the basin had now been emptied of water but the room still smelled of the shampoo in your hair.

“Sit.” Jackal ordered. And your body slumped into a wooden chair by a large desk. One that was covered in many long pieces of parchment and piles of books. A few empty ink pots were put to the side. While a stack of new ones awaited to be used. “You might want to get comfortable. You’re going to be here for a while.”

You looked around. Attempting to get comfortable in the wooden chair next to Jackal’s desk. Much unlike the plush, armchair-like seat he possessed, the wood was hard against your ass and the surface cold to the touch.

A few minutes passed as Jackal opened a few books and arranged them to stand in small holders to keep them open. He arranged paper out in front of him and then opened a thick, leather bound book by his left hand. You tapped your fingernails against the wood of the chair. Already insane from the quiet of the room.

“Can I have a book or something?” You asked. And Jackal scoffed a laugh.

“I doubt I have anything here that you can read. It’s all documents and spellbooks; all in languages you can’t read.” Jackal waited for you to argue. But when you didn’t give a rebuttal about knowing more languages than one, he left it to rest. “If you’d like to pass the time, you’re more than welcome to pass the time on me.” The smile was playful. Menacingly teasing as he smirked at you when your cheeks flushed pink.

“You’re not going to order me to do that?” You asked scornfully. And Jackal shrugged, plucking a quill from its seat in an ink pot and started writing.

“I could. Since Hezirus gave you the order to do whatever I say. Or I could force you to do it with my servants. But it’s not as much fun when the giver uses teeth and tries drawing blood every second.” At the word ‘servants’ the shadows from beneath the desks nearby came alive and crawled over the floor towards you. You pulled your dress away from the curious clawed hands and the room filled with whispered laughter as you gasped in horror.

Jackal tsked and the shadows scattered. Returning to being nothing more than dark spots under the desks. “Now hush, I have to concentrate.”

You must have dozed off somewhere after the third hour mark of sitting and doing nothing. The room was bitterly cold now and you shifted in your seat. Trying to find a comfortable position when a touch of fire brushed over your thigh.

You jerked awake. Startling when you came face to face with Jackal. Who had turned his chair towards you and was sitting almost directly between your legs. Both of his hands were coiled around your right thigh. Molding the cool skin with his fingers so gently that it almost tickled.

“Get your hands-”

“Shush, I’m thinking.” Jackal barked back. And the harshness of his voice froze you in place. Or was it the order to do as he says? You had no idea, but you knew that you were helpless in that chair as he squeezed your leg like he was kneading dough into shape. Scraping his palm along your skin through the velvety material of your dress. You had to lean back as he lifted your calf and draped your leg over his lap. You were left completely open to him in this position. But Jackal didn’t seem to notice.

He never went any higher than your upper thigh. His eyes were distant, staring at your chest but not actually paying attention to the shape of your cleavage. It was just the last place he looked before his thoughts trailed off.

You kept quiet. At least welcoming the warmth from Jackal’s lap and touch over your chilled skin.

Any longer here and you were going to freeze. You’d even welcome the harsh treatment of the hot bath just to warm you up. The dress was useless against the breeze that blew in from the open window. And the sun was beginning to go down.

Shit…have you already been here the entire day? No wonder your back was killing you.

Jackal startled you by humming and dropping your leg from his lap. Non-delicately letting your bare foot slap against the stone and you shuffled back onto the chair. He returned to his desk and started feverishly writing something down.

You stayed silent. Kicking your leg over the other to try and savor some of the tingling warmth from Jackal’s fingers. You hated how tenderly he had touched you. Because your core kind of enjoyed the attention.

The sky outside was pitch black and somewhere in the castle, you heard distant screams. It had started some hours ago and had long since lost its pitch. But the volume was still there. Telling you of the absolute agony that was ripping through someone.

“It’s no one you know.” Jackal assured you. Seeing your worried expression. “Maahes told me that there was a second human that jumped in the trap with you. And so far, I haven’t found them. Even if someone already claimed your friend, there would be traces of her. When a Fae consumes or fucks a human there’s…changes.”

That was at least comforting. But hearing such visceral cries turned your blood cold and nausea twisted in your stomach.

They were cut off rather quickly some hours after nightfall. And you weren’t sure if the silence following it was worse or better.

Jackal leaned back in his chair and stretched. Your eyes caught a glimpse of the toned body beneath the fine black tunic. But you tore your eyes away just as Jackal glanced at you.

“You’ve been rather quiet…Oh, right, I told you to shush. You can talk now. I don’t need to think for a bit.”

“I was going to say to get your hands off me.” You snapped. Suddenly finding an urge to speak now Jackal told you so. “Don’t ever touch me again.”

“But you’re so soft and warm.” Jackal practically purred. His arms hanging over the back of his chair as he stared at you. And this time, he really stared at you. With an intensity that had you looking away and a fresh wave of heat flooding your center. And that little nibble of his bottom lip was an added unfair flare.

“You’re disgusting.” You mumbled.

“I’m sure you'll change your mind eventually.” Jackal chuckled. The molten copper turned sharp once more as he returned them to the desk full of freshly scrawled paper. “If you were literate I’d have you read these so I can rest my eyes. But you’re unfortunately not that useful.”

“I can read.” You hissed and Jackal rolled his eyes. Lowering his arms so they came to rest on the desk.

“Can you read dwarvish?” Jackal asked. Then he clicked his tongue when you huffed a curse at him and turned your head away again. “Like I said, illiterate. Shame…it would have been cute having you sit on my lap while you read this over.”

“Fuck off.”

Jackal laughed and sighed. The breath was heavy as it filled his lungs. “I better get you to your cell before I let your arousal do anymore to me. Get up, little flower. And stay close. Maahes is wandering the halls looking for a chance to drag you under him again. And Hezirus is busy ensuring the court doesn’t devour you through the night. So, I’m all you have keeping you alive until we get you to your cage.”

You stood before your mind could think of doing so. And then you were walking beside Jackal through the palace, a step behind him. “What is stopping Maahes from…getting in my..cage?” It sounded weird to say. And you dearly hoped it wasn’t going to be a cage in the middle of a room like the one you appeared in.

“Hezirus.” Jackal replied, as a matter of factly. “Our prince holds alot of power. And not even a Drake as powerful as Maahes can disobey his orders while in his own home. He’ll try to lure you to his bed chambers, or the floor, I’m sure. But as long as you keep saying ‘no’, you’ll be safe.”

“That’s all that is stopping him from…you know…”

“Words hold more power here than your world, sweet flower. And Hezirus has explicitly ordered your words are the rules to your body. So, be mindful when speaking to anyone here. It might save your life.”

You trailed alongside Jackal as he took you deeper into the palace. Down even more stairs and corridors, until he stopped outside of a steel door. You weren’t stupid. This was a dungeon, deep under the palace. You could smell bile and filth from the other locked rooms. And the air was cold and thick.

But there were no guards here. Only the flickering torches along the walls and the soft, pained whimpering of the other prisoners.

“I had your cell cleaned before I brought you down here.” Jackal said. As if his words made it all better as the door to the cell opened without him touching it. Revealing a cramped, dark room. A cot was pushed into the corner. Merely a wooden pallet with hay stuffed into the crevasses and a thin blanket covering the splintering wood.

The pillow looked thin and splotched with gray marks.

“I’m going to freeze down here.” You said. Pulling at the stretchy material of your outfit. “This is barely going to keep me warm.”

“That’s Hezirus’ problem, not mine.” Jackal replied.

Then a hard cold force slammed into you and you stumbled into the cell. The door creaked shut and you heard a lock click into place. You rushed to the door as Jackal opened the little slit, allowing you to see his copper eyes through the darkness.

“Whenever Hezirus remembers his pet is down here, I’m sure he’ll provide you with all the best luxuries your little human body needs.” Jackal said with a roll of his bright eyes. “I, however, do not have time to babysit you at every minute. So, you’ll sit down here, in the dark, like a good girl until things settle. My servants swarm this place, so you’re safe. Just don’t make too much noise. Or you’ll attract some unwanted attention. Get some sleep, little flower. You’ll need it for tomorrow.”

You beat your fists against the door as the slit slid closed. Calling after Jackal in a colorful array of words and sentences. Some even got an impressed whistle out of the spy-master before you heard his boots disappear.

You retreated from the door when someone screamed from a nearby cell. The whispering laughter of shadows echoed through the darkness in response.

You went to the cot. The wood creaked under your weight as you curled up against the corner of the room. Gathering the thin blanket around you. Ignoring the itchiness from the hay and tried very hard not to think of bugs crawling in your hair or down along your arms.

You tried to stay awake. Something was moving beyond the cell door but it never came any closer. Someone would scream or start crying. Another would start begging. Only to be silenced by a harsh hiss that made your blood run cold.

You curled up tighter and closed your eyes. Hoping the sun would scatter the shadows when it rose.

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monstersandmaw · 1 year

Text

Male fox spirit x female reader (nsfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

___

Commission #4 in the list of 5! Thank you for trusting me with your prompt: female reader saves a dying fox on her way home from work, who turns out to be a fox spirit. I hope you like it!

Contents: Fox suffers a spinal injury when hit by a car (not the reader’s); there’s some magic; some domestic fluff; oral sex, fingering, him coming on her; and a sweet, fluffy ending.

Wordcount: 4400

Driving rain greeted you full in the face as you shoved open the main doors of the building and burrowed down into your coat, drawing the hood tight around your head in a vain attempt to keep the weather out. Nights like this — cold, damp, and at the tail end of winter before Spring took a proper hold on the land — were truly miserable.

Your fingers were half frozen by the time you had fumbled the keys out of your pocket and clambered into your car, and you fired the old thing up with a hopeful grimace that it would start. It coughed to life and you uttered a little prayer of thanks to whichever gods or spirits out there might be listening. “Now if only you could do something about my pathetic love life as well,” you said to yourself as you reversed out of the parking space and headed towards the main road. “Wouldn’t that be perfect?”

Half an hour outside of town, your headlights flashed over something lying on the side of the road, sprawled halfway across the white line, and you swerved instinctively to avoid it. Mercifully there was nothing coming in the other direction, or you’d have caused a serious accident. Adrenaline spiked through you and you slammed on the brakes.

The flash of golden-red you’d glimpsed had told you it was a fox, but it had had its head raised and it had been looking at you with its eyes flaring yellow in the headlights, but the expression on its face had struck you to the core. It had looked… resigned. Like it knew you were going to hit it. Like it knew it was going to die.

“No,” you said through gritted teeth.

You had some old work gloves in the back of the car from when you’d taken a load of stuff from the garden to the dump a week before, so you put your hazards on and slid out of the driver’s side door and into the worsening storm. You cursed softly, squinting amid the stinging rain as it struck your face like little iron nails in the gusty night. You cleared a space in the trunk for the fox, spreading an old picnic blanket out and grabbing those thick leather gloves. No need to get rabies if the thing bit you before you could get it to an animal clinic in the morning.

You knew it was a stupid thing to do, that cars hit wildlife all the time, and you really weren’t equipped to deal with it, but you couldn’t just leave it there when it had looked so sad; black ears drooping, eyes wide, mouth slightly open.

Making your way along the edge of the deserted road with only your phone torch to light the way, you found the spot where the fox was still lying on the asphalt, and crooned softly to it. “Hey there,” you said, feeling a bit silly. “It’s ok. I’m not going to hurt you. It’s alright. Let me help you out… Let me take you home and see if I can take you to a vet in the morning…”

When your light found its back legs though, your heart sank. They lay limp and slightly twisted to one side. Its back had been broken by the impact with a vehicle.

“Oh baby,” you said, fighting sudden tears. “It’s going to be ok…” you lied.

Was it like with humans? Should it not be moved with a spinal injury? It would probably die anyway, or they’d recommend putting it down. You could at least take it in and keep it warm for its last few hours. When you knelt nearby, it just laid its cheek down on the cold tarmac, defeated, and let out a long, broken whimper.

“I’m going to pick you up, ok? Please don’t bite me. God, this is such a stupid thing to do…”

The fox licked its shiny black nose and just blinked slowly at you.

When it made no move to attack you or snap at you when you got nearer, you scooped it up and marvelled at how light it felt in your arms, its lovely, russet fur damp and matted.

“There,” you said, cradling it in your arms as you carried it back to your car. ‘Him’, not ‘it’, you saw when you set him down on the blanket and stroked his head and neck. He murmured softly, the sound almost a purr, and you swallowed thickly. He was so weak, you wondered if he’d even survive the journey home.

Five cars overtook you as you drove on after that, all beeping and honking their horns and flashing their lights to get you to go faster, but you absolutely would not be bullied into making this last car ride hell for the little, injured fox.

It didn’t take very long to set up a cosy den of blankets and towels in the kitchen by the radiator, and when you were satisfied that it was as comfortable as you could make it — and that any mess would be contained in an area with tile floors — you went back for him. He was still lying on his side, exactly as you’d left him, but his eyes seemed brighter and more focused, and his ears pricked up when you opened the trunk up and gazed down at him.

“Alright?” you asked and he gave a soft snuffle that was half-sneeze and half-chuckle. “You’re awfully perky for someone who’s just gone head-to-head with fast-moving traffic, buddy,” you smiled. “Maybe you will be alright. Ready to go inside?”

You had your gloves on but it didn’t feel like you really needed them, and when you settled him down on the veritable blanket fort inside, he heaved a great sigh and nuzzled his cheek against the fabric with a rumbling moan of contentment.

“You hungry?” you asked. “I don’t have much that’s fox-friendly, but I think there’s some ham in the fridge. Let me check.”

You offered him a saucer of water first, holding his delicate head up as he lapped steadily at it until he’d had his fill, and then you fed him little slivers of cooked ham which he took from your fingers like an absolute gentleman. “Aren't you dainty,” you chuckled as his small, sharp teeth pulled the next piece carefully free of your gloved hand.

He fixed you with such a flat, patronising look that you had to laugh.

The fox flicked an ear and looked away.

“Oh I’m sorry,” you said in a baby voice. “Don’t be grumpy with me, you precious thing… Here, have some more…”

He sneezed, then looked back at you and opened his mouth, head tipped back like a baby bird awaiting a worm.

“You’re not going to take it? You want me to feed you?”

He just stared at you without moving.

“Fine, your highness,” you said. “Anything for you.”

You let the piece drop into his tilted jaws, and then chucked him affectionately under the chin with your finger after he’d chewed and swallowed it.

He caught the leather of the glove’s fingertip in his teeth in a move that was so fast you didn’t even see it, but then tugged gently, insistently.

“I’m not taking this off,” you frowned. “You could have rabies for all I know.”

A tiny, rattling growl, like the world’s tiniest chainsaw, rumbled out of him and he folded his ears back indignantly before pulling on the glove again. Then he let go, his ears pricked about as far forward as he could get them, and he stared expectantly at you.

“No way, friend,” you said, and stood to put the empty ham packet in the rubbish bin.

With your back to the kitchen window, a golden light flooded the room, and for a wild moment, you thought someone was driving straight at the house, headlights blazing. When you whipped around though, you froze. The light was coming from… from the fox.

“The fuck…?”

Your heartbeat started to race, and you weren’t sure if the ringing sound was coming from your own blood pounding in your ears or from something else in the room. The brightness reached such an intense crescendo that you had to look away, shielding your eyes with the crook of your arm until the chiming noise stopped and you lowered it cautiously back down, blinking.

There, standing in the centre of the room, was a man.

You took a step back, fear crashing in on your senses.

You looked around for something you could use as a weapon, but a warm, gentle voice said, “Wait, I won’t hurt you. I swear it.”

Again, you went still, and after taking a steadying breath, you turned to face him again, wide eyed and shaking. “What the hell?”

“Not hell,” he smiled, and you saw that he had warm, tan skin and dark, golden eyes. His hair was a russet colour, and it fell in soft waves around his ears to the nape of his neck. He was slender, not especially tall, and he was quite possibly the most beautiful human being you’d ever laid eyes on. Except… there was still a kind of glow around him, like an aura, and his clothes looked like they belonged at a Ren Faire or something, though the dark green, belted and embroidered tunic was finely tailored and his dark brown boots looked soft and well worn. Tiny points of light, like fireflies, twisted slowly through the air surrounding him before vanishing into a miniature, glittering starburst.

“You’re not human,” you said, despite how crazy it sounded.

“No,” the man replied with a smile. “No, I’m not. But you didn’t know that when you took in an injured fox and cared for him.”

“You’re the fox,” you blurted without thinking.

“I am. Sort of,” he smiled, and you saw that he had perfect, white teeth, with slightly more pointed canines than humans usually did. “I’m a fox spirit. There are all sorts of us, and we’re known by many names all over the world, but the most famous is probably the ‘kitsune’ thanks to modern media.”

“Oh,” you said, only half aware that your vision was darkening around the edges until it was too late. The blood roared again in your ears and your knees went out from under you. The last thing you saw was a flicker of a frown on the man’s — kitsune’s — face before he lunged towards you with hands outstretched, and the world went black.

You stirred and found yourself lying on the sofa in your sitting room, with your feet raised about a foot or so off the seat cushion, and a stranger in green standing over you, holding your legs up by the ankle. The kitsune. The fox spirit.

“Got to say, that’s the first time someone’s actually fainted because of me,” he said with a smile, lowering your legs back down and stepping back. “Are you alright?”

“I fainted?” you asked stupidly, pushing yourself upright and swinging your legs slowly off the sofa and onto the ground. You swayed a little, but didn’t pass out again.

The fox spirit nodded, his lovely hair shining with strands of bronze and copper in the low light of the room, gold eyes glowing as if back-lit. “Thank you for saving me,” he said in a quiet, earnest baritone.

“Did I, though?” you asked, staring openly at him. “I mean… you’re… magic, right? I saw the way your legs were just… Your back was broken…”

“If you’d hit me with your car, or simply left me there for the next driver to do the same, then I wouldn’t have survived. We’re tough, and our magic can heal most things, but not that.”

“Oh.” And then your cheeks went hot and you looked at the carpet, “I’m sorry I baby-talked you like you were an actual animal.”

He laughed; a beautiful, bright sound like dry autumn leaves in clear sunlight. His head tipped a little way back and he looked truly delighted. “You weren’t to know,” he said, still chuckling. “And you’re not the first.”

“Oh,” you said, like a broken record.

From where he stood nearby, the fox spirit smiled at you and then inhaled deeply. “I… should go,” he said, his golden eyes turning a little sad. “Let you return to your life…”

“Wait,” you called from the sofa as he turned away. “What’s your name?”

He cast you a look over his shoulder and the smile he gave you was wry and amused. “You may call me Rowe.”

There was a nuance there that you weren’t understanding, but you told him your name in return, and he inhaled suddenly as if you’d struck him.

“You would part with your name so carelessly?” he whispered, brows pulling together into a frown of utter confusion. “You…” and then his expression cleared and his shoulders dropped. “You have never had dealings with the fae, have you?”

“The… fae?” you stuttered. “Like… fairies?”

The smile that replaced the frown was patient and amused in equal parts, and he sighed and shook his head. “Well, here’s your first lesson. Never tell your true name to a fae.”

Again, all the sound that escaped you was a dull, “Oh.”

He exhaled and approached you, and you tried not to lean back, to lean away from him. This whole night had gone from bad to utterly bizarre in the blink of an eye and you felt a little sick from the whiplash.

To make matters all the more confusing, the strange man knelt before you, sweeping his long, otherworldly tunic out of the way as he sank down onto one knee like he was going to propose or something, and he bowed his auburn head. “You saved my life without thought of debt or repayment, and in recognition of the gift, I give one of my own. I bind your True Name to my heart and hold it there in silence. I may never speak your True Name aloud unless you give me leave so to do. This I swear upon my spirit and my magic and my own True Name.”

The air in the room prickled like static and you had to fight the urge to see if your hair was standing on end. Goosebumps flickered along your arms and legs, and you drew in a shallow breath. “Anything else I should know about?” you asked faintly.

He looked up at you and shrugged. “We’re allergic to iron,” he suggested. “And we’re overly fond of cream and sweet cakes…”

“Sweet cakes,” you repeated thoughtfully, eyes drifting towards the kitchen where you’d bought a strawberry sponge cake just the day before, and an idea half-formed in your head.

Rowe smiled and your heart slipped sideways in your chest for a moment. He was so beautiful it was almost hard to believe he was really there and really standing in front of you. Well, technically he was kneeling like a knight in a fairytale. Fairytale indeed, you thought.

“You don’t have to go,” you whispered.

You were afraid of sounding childish, that if you spoke too loudly, he would think you desperate and would laugh at you, but all he did was tilt his head to the side the way he had done as a fox, and he nodded once. “Alright,” he said.

“I mean, don’t feel like you have to stay either,” you babbled, making a rather pathetic, flapping gesture in front of you with your hands. “I just meant… you’re welcome to stay if you want to. I was going to cook some dinner and watch a movie… eat cake for dessert. I thought… I thought since you’ve had kind of a rough day, you might like to just… chill out with me for a while.”

“May I help you cook?”

“If you… If you’d like to?” you said, standing carefully and holding your hand out to him to encourage him up off the floor.

He slid his warm fingers into your palm, and got to his feet with the grace of a prince, and offered you another smile. “I’d like that very much.”

Rowe stayed with you for a week. You explained that you had to go to work or you’d get fired, and when you came back on the first day, you expected him to have gone, leaving you wondering if the whole thing hadn’t been a hallucination brought on by the combination of a stressful week of work and the awful weather. But no, Rowe was there that evening, curled up as a fox on the impromptu bed you’d made by the radiator while the rain hurled itself at the window pane above him.

“Rowe, you don’t have to sleep on that!” you gasped, dropping your bag by the door and making him startle awake, ears pricked, tail fluffed up in rather adorable alarm.

In a flash of gold light, he was human again, standing beside the bed and smiling at you. “I don’t mind,” he chuckled. “It’s comfortable, and when I’m a fox, I don’t think in quite the same way as I do when I’m in this form. That’s how I got hit by the car in the first place… Please, don’t fret.”

You scowled at him, but relented, and asked him about his day. It seemed he’d spent most of it in his fox form, either out and about in the woods near your house, or sleeping by the warmth of the radiator.

“Didn’t you get bored here?” you asked.

“I could have done the housework for you,” he smirked. “But I thought that might have been an intrusion on your privacy.”

You laughed. “Thanks?”

After three days of sharing your space with him — he sleeping contentedly as a fox on the pile of blankets and you upstairs in your bedroom — you cleared your throat that evening as you sat together on the sofa like old friends, and said, “You know… uh… I… I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to come upstairs with me… I don’t want you to feel like you have to sleep down here like you’re a…” you trailed off, flushing hot with awkward embarrassment.

One russet-brown eyebrow climbed a little higher than the other. “… a what?”

“Like you’re some kind of pet… you know…”

Rowe laughed and, as it always did, your heart skipped a beat. His cheeks dimpled and Adam’s apple danced in his exposed throat and you ached. It felt like a long time since someone had touched you; since you’d been held, let alone kissed. He had a beautiful mouth, like he’d been made just to tempt you.

Some of your thoughts must have shown on your face because the laughter died in his throat and he fixed you with a look that was all concern. He murmured the name you’d given him permission to use when it was just the two of you and asked, “What’s wrong? I’m not upset about the animal comment,” he said, reaching for your forearm and trying to reassure you, but you shook your head. “Then what?”

Tears came unbidden to your eyes and you turned away. His hand felt hot through the fabric of your hoodie, but his grip was feather light. It would take nothing at all to pull yourself free, but the thought of it seemed overwhelming. “It’s nothing,” you choked, pressing your lips together and hoping he’d let the matter drop.

He didn’t. His eyes flared bright gold and he scowled at you when you risked a glance at him. “The fae can always taste a lie,” he said with the slightest growl to his voice. “And I can tell you’re hurting. We were laughing, and then… you weren’t. What changed?”

“It’s —”

A short, animal growl echoed in his throat but he bit it back, shut his mouth with a click of teeth, and glared at you.

“Ugh, fine,” you huffed, standing up and pacing across the room. “It’s been a long time since it’s been this easy around someone, ok? And it’s not every day that a handsome, cute guy with a great sense of humour shows genuine interest in me. I just wished, for like half a second, that you might be interested in me, but I get it. You’re not even human. I was nice to you. You probably feel obliged to stay here. You… You should probably go soon anyway.”

His expression turned from concerned to carefully neutral, and he stood. “If that’s the way you feel,” he said, “Then I can leave. But you should know that I’ve had a wonderful time with you, and…” he swallowed and took a breath, “I think you’re beautiful, through and through.”

“Please,” you scoffed. “Don’t bother trying to spare my feelings.”

“We can taste a lie, but we cannot tell one,” he said evenly. “I could not tell you that your clothes are yellow when they are not, nor that the sky is green, nor that you are not beautiful.”

You turned slowly around to look at him, and found him glowing gold again, those points of light spiralling lazily in the air around him. The slight shape of fox ears seemed to be picked out in two, brighter lines above his copper hair and behind him you saw a golden tail swaying back and forth. His eyes blazed bright like burnished bronze, and he was staring directly at you as he spoke.

“Oh.”

“I would very much like to stay with you, and share your bed, and, if you would let me, I would bring you pleasure too.”

Your breath hitched and you licked your lips. He even spoke like he was out of a fairytale. “You mean it?”

“Yes.”

“Ok,” you smiled.

Together, you tidied up the sitting room, and he followed you upstairs, still glowing softly, as if he were utterly contented and couldn’t help it.

Rowe undressed with you in your bedroom, baring a body like polished bronze; all lean lines and languid muscle, and you almost couldn’t look away. He asked if he could shower with you, and gently washed you and touched you, cupping your breasts and trailing his hands down your sides with reverent care. He passed his thumbs over your hardened nipples and kneaded your breasts until you gasped and tipped your head back, eyes closed. He teased between your legs with his fingertips, and then when you turned the shower off, he kissed your forehead. In a rush of magic, both your bodies were completely dry and your skin glowed softly with a thousand, dewy, golden sparkles. You beamed up at him, and he kissed you.

When he drew back, he led you by the hand into the bedroom and you lay down on the bed, heart racing. He knelt between your parted knees and you stared openly at his beautiful body. He looked like a statue come to life, and his cock had been more than half-hard ever since the shower, even as he turned his attention wholly on you and skimmed his palms up your thighs. You parted your legs a little wider for him and he bowed forward to kiss along your inner thigh until you shivered and lay back on the pillow behind you with a gasp.

He kissed you and tasted you, moaning softly before letting his tongue sweep up over you. He took your sensitive clit between his lips and kissed you there as well, and then he slid his arms under your thighs, lay down on his front, and you lost yourself to the pleasure of his mouth.

You lost count of how many times he made you come that night, with his tongue and with his fingers, but he never asked for more than you were ready to give.

“Come on me,” you murmured. You had no idea how well your current contraception would withstand a magical fae, but you were pretty sure you were safe with that, and when you asked, he nodded.

His fingers were slick from where he’d made you come, again, and he closed his hand around his cock with a low groan that dissolved into a gasp as he brought himself to the brink. He glowed gold again and you saw those ears made of light and the tail gleaming vividly behind him just as he spilled over your stomach with a muted grunt and another beautiful moan.

The golden light suffused the room, and you watched his expression as he came — open and vulnerable and achingly beautiful — and wished more than anything that he would stay.

When you woke in the morning, you expected to wake alone, but the warm pressure of Rowe’s body pressed against your back and the weight of his arm across your waist drew a little inhale of surprise from you. Apparently that was enough to wake him, because he kissed the back of your head and mumbled a sleepy good morning into your hair.

He was hard too, you realised, and you deliberately rocked your hips back against him.

Rowe let out a grunt and his hand shifted to your hips, drawing himself closer to you with a languid, answering roll of his hips.

“I don’t know if the fae have weekends,” you said, “But today is Saturday. I don’t have to go in to work…”

“Good,” he said. “I’m not sure I could let you go anywhere today after last night.” He said it with a laugh that told you he would let you do anything you liked, and you rolled over to face him. The softness in his smile brought one of your own to your lips, and he slid his hand down over your breast and then down between your legs.

Your eyes fluttered closed as he slipped his fingers easily inside you, and you rolled onto your back as he started a rhythm that would end in the kind of pleasure you had only ever dreamed of before him.

He smiled and kissed your cheek without his fingers once faltering, and whispered in your ear, “I’ll stay with you as long as you want me.”

You gasped and bucked, and almost missed his promise.

“I’ll stay with you forever.”

Thanks for reading this story, and I hope you’ll consider reblogging it (as well as leaving a like) if you enjoyed it, since that will help others find it.

Take care, and I hope you have a lovely day/night wherever you are, and whenever you read this.

Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar) | Library/Story Archive Blog

#kitsune #male kitsune #male fox spirit #fox spirit #fox shapeshifter #fae #shapeshifter #male kitsune x female reader #female reader #male fae x female reader #fae x reader #exophilia #monster boyfriend #kitsune boyfriend

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colddelusionsheep · 1 year

Text

You know what I love? Yandere fae. Maybe it is due to my obsession with fae and magical creatures, but I just can't get over how good they would make as yanderes. Let me tell you, I stayed up way too late last night just reading through everything under yandere fae.

And it still wasn't enough to satisfy me, but then I remembered that I am a writer. So instead of doing my school work like I should do, here are yandere fae.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How could you be so stupid? After all the stories you heard and all the lessons about never trusting those you meet in the woods. How you should never give your name to anyone who asks. You still chose not to listen to them, and here you are paying for it.

It was a mistake. Going for a walk in the woods was a mistake. Chosing to stay and converse with the strange and other worldly man was a mistake. And telling him your name when he so kindly asked was a mistake. Now you were paying for it, you probably will be eaten by a beautiful monster that just hurts your head to look at. Was this really how your life was going to end?

The stranger that you have yet to know the name have led you to an opening from the dark forest that you were in. It seemed like the was a party going on.

A large group of what you could only assume were fae like the man that led you away from your life were all dancing and drinking. Strange music that you just couldn't seem to comprehend played. It's medley causing your already bad headache to worsen.

Everything you saw was other worldly. All those in attendance were as beautiful as the sun and as painful to look at. You mind told your to run, but your body refused to do anything against what the stranger said.

The power of a name was a dangerous one. One that you gave so freely away.

A beautiful women came up to the man. Tilting her head as she spotted you trailing behind him like you had a leash attached to you, but the was no such physical tie.

The women spoke but you heard no words. Your head pounded in pain. Feeling her touch upon your cheek, you felt like stone. Her touch was cold and hot at the same time. Everything your felt contradicted.

The man looked at the scene with pride. You saw his sharp teeth glim as he smirked. More words were exchanged between the two that your head just couldn't register. The women took your hand an led your to a silk tent.

Vines and flowers grew up along the wooden posts. Their scents overwhelmed your senses.

As the fae laid you down on a bed that felt like clouds. She pushed some hair away from your face. And finally, as she spoke to you, you understood.

"You don't know how happy I am to know that our king has finally found a pet."

How you wish you didn't.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I have so many essays I need to do for school but yandere fairies are much more important.

#yandere writing #yandere #yandere story #yandere x reader #yandere idea #yandere concept #yandere fae #yandere Fairy #yandere fairies #yandere fairy #yandere oc #yanderes #yandere fae male #yandere fae female #yandere male #yandere female #yandere monster

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mxnsterbabe · 5 months

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Male Fae/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 4,075 Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

You meet Lysander at a casino, where he only ever wins. There's more to him than you think... and maybe more to the both of you.

As you stepped into the dazzling interior of the Midnight Mirage, a wave of nostalgia and excitement washed over you. It had been years since you last set foot in this particular casino, yet everything felt so familiar—the clinking of chips, the soft hum of conversation, and the dim, seductive lighting that promised endless possibilities.

You were no stranger to the world of casinos. Your reputation as a professional poker player had been built on a foundation of sharp wit and an uncanny ability to read people. Tonight, you were here not just for the thrill of the game but to scout the competition for an upcoming tournament.

As you meandered through the casino, your eyes scanned the crowd, taking in the usual suspects - hopeful amateurs, seasoned gamblers, and the flamboyant personalities that frequented such places. Amidst the familiar sights, one figure caught your attention.

He was at a blackjack table, his back to you, but there was something about him that stood out. Maybe it was the striking white hair or the casual, almost nonchalant manner in which he tossed his chips onto the table. You couldn't put your finger on it yet, but you knew one thing for sure; he was different to the amateurs here.

You leaned against a nearby pillar, your gaze fixed on the man at the blackjack table. The way he played was almost artful, his hands moving with a grace that was mesmerizing. His silky white hair shone under the casino lights, and when he turned slightly, you caught a glimpse of striking amber eyes and the delicate golden wings that marked him as fae. Around him, the table was a mix of humans and one particularly bulky orc, all seemingly entranced by his charm.

As you watched, it became clear that he wasn't just lucky; he was winning too easily. His moves were subtle, almost imperceptible to the untrained eye, but to someone like you, who had spent years mastering the art of poker, the signs were there. He was cheating, but how?

When he finally stood up from the table, his winnings substantial, the other players seemed to snap out of their daze, murmuring amongst themselves. This was your chance.

You pushed off from the pillar and made your way through the crowd, your heart beating a rhythm of excitement and caution. Approaching him, you put on your best casual smile. “That was some impressive playing,” you said, your voice laced with a hint of admiration and challenge.

He turned to face you, and for a moment, you were taken aback by the intensity of his gaze. “Thank you,” he replied, his voice smooth like velvet. “I do enjoy a good game.”

“I couldn’t help but notice,” you continued, leaning in slightly. “How about a friendly game? Just you and me?”

For a moment, he seemed to assess you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to read your intentions. Then, with a smile that hinted at mischief, he nodded. “I’m always up for a challenge. Lead the way.”

You led him to a quieter corner of the casino, where a poker table was set up. As you both sat down, the dealer shuffled the cards with practiced ease. You could feel the tension between you and the fae man, an electric charge that made the air hum.

"So, what's your name?" you asked, peeking at your cards before glancing back up at him.

He flashed a charming smile, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Lysander," he replied. "And you?"

You offered your name, trying to sound nonchalant as you placed a bet. "I haven't seen you around the Midnight Mirage before, although to be fair it’s been a while. You a regular?"

Lysander chuckled softly, the sound almost melodic. "I wander in from time to time. The games here... they have a certain allure."

You nodded, keeping your expression neutral as you watched him place his bet. His movements were graceful, almost hypnotic, and despite your best efforts, you found your attention drifting from the game to the man himself. Lysander was undeniably attractive, with a certain feminine allure that made your chest flutter.

You tried to refocus on the game, paying close attention to his every move. Every so often, your eyes would wander, taking in the way his long hair fell perfectly around his face, or the way his lips curved when he smiled.

"So, Lysander," you said, attempting to steer the conversation back to safer ground. "You seem to have quite the talent. Always been lucky?"

His eyes met yours, a spark of something unreadable there. "You could say I have a knack for reading the odds," he replied, a hint of mystery in his voice.

You raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in your gaze. "Is that so? I’ve got to say, I'm pretty good at reading people. Comes with the territory, I guess."

A knowing smile spread across Lysander's face. "Is that your secret, then? Observation and intuition?"

"Something like that," you replied, your heart racing slightly. There was something there, bubbling just beneath the surface. Could he feel it too?

You tried to stay focused, watching Lysander's every move for any sign of cheating. It was becoming increasingly difficult; his presence was distracting, his attractiveness undeniable.

The game continued. Each hand was a delicate balance of skill and luck, but as the rounds progressed, Lysander's luck seemed more than just chance.

"So, Lysander," you started, trying to keep your tone light as you threw in your chips for the next round. "You must have some stories, being as lucky as you are. Any secret to your success?"

He glanced at you, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes before he looked back at his cards. "Oh, I suppose you could say I've had my fair share of interesting experiences," he said, his voice smooth. "Secrets, though? Love, we hardly know each other well enough for that. Those are best kept close to the chest, don't you think?"

You chuckled, trying to mask how the way he said love made your spine tingle. "Fair enough, but there's no harm in sharing a little, is there? After all, we're just passing the time."

Lysander smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Some things are more enjoyable when shrouded in a bit of mystery."

You smiled to yourself at that. He did, after all, have a point.

You took a moment to assess your hand, trying to focus. Something was off, though, and more than just because of Lysander’s distracting smile. You were making mistakes, small ones that you wouldn't normally make.

It wasn't just you; even the dealer seemed slightly out of it, as if Lysander's presence was affecting everyone's concentration.

You thought back to the other players at the blackjack table, the dazed looks in their eyes, the way they seemed to snap back to reality only when Lysander stood up. It was more than just charm or charisma; he was doing something to the players, but in a way so subtle and seamless that it was almost impossible to pinpoint.

"Your play," Lysander prompted gently, bringing you back to the game.

You placed your bet a little more cautiously this time. "You know, Lysander, I've played against all sorts of people. High rollers, amateurs, humans and elves and even a few dragonborn guys. You’re not like them. There's something about the way you play... It's almost like you're in control of more than just your cards."

He raised an eyebrow, his expression one of amused curiosity. "Is that your professional opinion?"

"It's an observation," you replied, watching as he casually met your bet through the fog clouding your mind. "I'm usually pretty good at reading the game."

The turn was dealt, and you played through the rounds, your mind racing. Lysander's hands were consistently lucky, but it was more than that. His presence seemed to cast a subtle spell over the table, one that made it hard to concentrate, hard to think.

As the game drew to a close, you knew you had to make a decision. You could keep playing, try to uncover more - or you could call him out, confront him about what you suspected.

Before you could come to a decision, Lysander suddenly stood up, his chair scraping softly against the plush carpet. You looked up at him, slightly taken aback by the abrupt end to the game.

"I have a rule," he said, his voice as captivating as ever. "I only ever play one game with the same people. Keeps things interesting." He flashed a charming smile, one that didn't fail to stir something within you. "It was lovely to meet you,," he continued, extending his hand towards you.

Hesitantly, you reached out, your hand slipping into his. His touch was warm, sending a jolt of electricity through you. You noticed then just how attractive he really was up close, his features almost ethereal in their perfection. His amber eyes held yours, and for a moment, it felt like the world around you faded into the background.

"The pleasure was mine, Lysander," you managed to say, your voice steadier than you felt.

He held your gaze for a moment longer, a hint of something like amusement playing in his eyes. "Perhaps we'll cross paths again in the future," he said, his tone suggesting a promise rather than a mere possibility.

As he released your hand and turned to leave, you couldn't help but watch him go, his figure retreating into the crowd. It was only when he was out of sight that you realized the fog in your mind was lifting, clarity slowly seeping back in.

You looked down at the table, the cards and chips a blur in your memory. Strangely, you found it hard to recall the details of the game, the hands you played, the bets you made. It was as if Lysander's presence had not only affected your concentration but had also left a blank space in your recollection of events.

You stood up, a mix of frustration and fascination swirling within you. He was definitely using magic. Had to have been. The pull you felt towards him was unnerving. Unnatural.

All you could think about was the way he looked at you, the way he smiled, and the promise of a future meeting. Was that a part of his spell, too?

***

A week had slipped by since that night at the Midnight Mirage, and Lysander had become a constant presence in your thoughts. Each time you returned to the casino, your eyes involuntarily scanned the crowd for a glimpse of silken white hair or golden wings, but he was nowhere to be found. His promise of a future encounter felt like nothing more than a fleeting illusion, leaving you with a sense of unfulfilled curiosity.

You had hoped that the spell he cast – whatever it was – would have faded by now, yet his image lingered in your mind, as vivid as ever. It was perplexing, the way your thoughts kept drifting back to him, to the mystery he represented.

Then, an invitation arrived that sparked a new wave of anticipation. The grand opening of a new casino, another branch of the Midnight Mirage, named the Morning Ghost. The name itself promised an evening of glamour and excitement, and you couldn't resist the allure.

Dressed in a stunning black gown that hugged your figure and accentuated your best features, you stepped into the Morning Ghost. The new casino was a vision of opulence, with lavish decor and an atmosphere buzzing with the energy of high society and the thrill of gambling.

As you mingled through the crowd, you recognized a few familiar faces from the poker world, exchanging pleasantries and small talk. The air was filled with the clinking of glasses, the soft murmur of conversation, and the sounds of slots and cards.

Yet, amidst the grandeur and excitement, a part of you was still searching, hoping against hope to spot Lysander. The disappointment was a dull ache, a reminder of the strange hold he seemed to have on you.

You tried to immerse yourself in the party, grabbing champagne from the bar, your heart wasn't in it. The Morning Ghost, for all its splendour, lacked the one element that had inexplicably become the most intriguing to you.

As you contemplated leaving the Morning Ghost, the sight of a poker table caught your eye. It was set up in a quieter corner of the casino, away from the louder slot machines and the bustling crowds. Seated around it were a diverse group of players: two elves in elegant dresses with sharp, intelligent eyes; an orc whose massive build was contrasted by his surprisingly gentle demeanour; and a goblin whose quick, darting glances seemed to take in everything at once.

Intrigued, you made your way over, the allure of the game momentarily overshadowing your disappointment. Just as you were about to take a seat, a familiar voice from behind stopped you in your tracks.

“Is there room for one more?” Lysander’s smooth tone was unmistakable.

Your heart leaped at the sound, and you turned to find him standing there, as captivating as you remembered. His white hair glowed subtly under the casino lights, and his eyes held a playful spark as they met yours.

“Lysander,” you breathed, feeling the instant attraction rush back, overwhelming and undeniable.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” he said, a flirtatious edge to his voice as he took the seat next to you.

“Not at all,” you managed to reply, trying to keep your composure. The proximity to him sent a thrill through you, his presence both exhilarating and disconcerting.

As the game started, you felt that familiar fuzzy feeling settle over you, like a soft blanket muffling your senses. It was definitely magic, you realized, affecting not just you but everyone else at the table.

The cards were dealt, and you tried to focus on your hand, but Lysander’s presence was a constant distraction. He played with an effortless grace, his every move deliberate and precise. Every so often, he would glance at you, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, as if he knew exactly the effect he was having on you.

“You seem a bit distracted, love,” Lysander commented softly during a pause in the game, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You met his gaze, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat. “Just trying to figure out your game,” you replied, hoping your voice sounded steadier than you felt.

He leaned in slightly, his eyes locked on yours. “Have you figured it out yet?”

You hesitated, the close proximity making your thoughts scatter. “I’m working on it,” you said, but even to your own ears, it sounded more like a question. The way he looked at you, eyes lidded and smile playful, was burning you up.

Despite the strange atmosphere and foggy mind, a part of you couldn't help but wonder if this intense attraction was a result of his spell. You glanced around the table; the other players, absorbed in their game, showed no signs of being affected in the same way you were. Were your feelings for Lysander merely a product of his magical influence, or was there a genuine connection between you?

You tried to focus on the game, on the cards in your hand, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Lysander. The way he smiled, the subtle gestures he made, the light in his eyes - everything about him seemed to draw you in further. His presence was intoxicating, and you found yourself increasingly captivated by him.

The game came to a close with Lysander once again emerging victorious, though it was a close call. As he stood up, the familiar fog that had clouded your mind lifted, clarity returning.. You could think more clearly now, but the flutter in your chest and flushed cheeks remained unchanged, unaffected by the dispersal of his magic.

He turned to you, a knowing smile on his lips. “Would you care to join me for a drink at the bar?” he asked, his eyes searching yours.

You hesitated for a moment, aware of the rapid beating of your heart. The logical part of your mind warned you to be cautious, to not get too entangled in the web of charm and magic that Lysander wove so effortlessly. Another part of you, the part that had been enchanted by him since that first encounter, yearned to spend more time with him.

“Yes,” you found yourself saying, almost without thinking. “I’d like that.”

Walking to the bar with Lysander, you felt a rush of excitement mixed with a tinge of nervousness. The casino's ambient noise faded into the background as you focused on the man beside you. He led the way with a confidence that seemed to come naturally to him, his hips swaying.

At the bar, Lysander ordered drinks for both of you, seeming to know exactly what you wanted without needing to ask.

“How’d you know?” you asked.

He only smirked and answered, “I had a gut feeling.”

Lysander himself ordered a vintage red wine. You watched as he swirled the wine in his glass, the dim lights of the casino catching the deep ruby red of the liquid. He caught your gaze and raised his glass slightly before taking a sip, a silent toast.

"You have a taste for the finer things," you commented, taking a sip of your own drink.

"One of the perks of immortality," Lysander replied with a wry smile. "You develop a certain appreciation for quality over the centuries."

"Centuries?" you echoed, your curiosity piqued. "You must have seen a lot of change."

"More than you can imagine," he said, a faraway look in his eyes. "The world is constantly evolving, but some things," he paused, looking directly at you, "some things remain captivatingly constant."

The conversation drifted from trivial topics to more personal ones, but you were intent on uncovering more about him. "So, Lysander, what do you do when you're not hypnotising everyone at the poker table?"

He chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "Hypnotising. Is that what you think I do?"

"Well," you leaned in closer, lowering your voice, "it's hard to ignore the way everyone seems... distracted when you're around - or how I seem to forget the details once I leave."

Lysander's expression remained unreadable, but there was a hint of caution in his eyes. "The world is full of mysteries. Not everything can be explained."

"Most things can," you persisted gently. "Like how you always seem to win. Are you using some kind of enchantment magic?"

For a moment, he seemed taken aback, his guard slipping. "Enchantment magic?" he echoed, then quickly regained his composure. "You’ve been reading too many books."

You studied his face, trying to read his expression. "Or maybe I've just noticed something others haven't. It wouldn't be the first time."

There was a pause, a tension hanging in the air between you. "You think I've been hypnotizing people?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of offense.

"I don't know," you admitted. "There's just something unusual going on, and there’s only a handful of explanations. The way you make me feel…” you trail off, staring into your long island, cheeks flushed. “I'm just trying to understand it."

Lysander's gaze held yours, a storm of emotions playing across his face. Then, without warning, he leaned in and kissed you. His lips were so soft, but there was a roughness as his hands tangled in your hair, his body pressing into you.

You jumped, nearly staggering from the stool. Lysander’s sharp teeth nipped at your bottom lip though, and warmth pooled low in your stomach. You kissed back with a ferocity that was overwhelming, heat spreading through you before you could even figure out what was going on.

As he pulled back a moment later, you were left breathless, heart thundering. You couldn’t ignore the desire rising inside of you, or the lingering taste of his lips on your tongue.

Lysander held your gaze with unshakable confidence, the corner of his mouth curling up in a knowing smile. You were momentarily lost in him, in the unexpected passion of the kiss.

"You're quite good at changing the subject," you said, trying to steady your voice and regain some semblance of control.

"Am I?" Lysander's voice was smooth, his eyes still locked with yours. "Or maybe you're just easily distracted."

You couldn't deny the burning desire that the kiss had ignited within you, but your curiosity was equally hot. "Is that part of your enchantment?" you asked, half-teasing, half-serious. "Distracting your opponents with a kiss?"

Lysander leaned back, the amusement clear in his expression. "I find my methods are effective in various situations." Lysander's tone shifted slightly as he asked, "would you like to continue this conversation somewhere more private? My hotel is just a short walk from here."

You hesitated, torn between the undeniable attraction you felt and the nagging suspicion in your mind. Even though you were practically mad with desire, you had the common sense to at least try and stay on control.

"No," you finally said, the word firmer than you expected. "I can't. This... whatever this is, it's too complicated. You're enchanting me, making me feel this way."

Lysander's expression changed, the playful confidence giving way to genuine surprise and a hint of offense. "You think I'm using my magic on you for this?" he asked, his tone taking on a serious edge.

You met his gaze, searching for any sign of deceit. "Aren't you?"

"No," he said firmly. "I admit, I've used my magic to win at the tables. It's a harmless game, a bit of fun. This," he gestured between the two of you, "I would never use my magic to influence someone's feelings. Especially not for sex."

The sincerity in his voice gave you pause. You studied his angular face, looking for any hint of a lie, but found none. The revelation that he had used his magic at the poker table wasn't surprising, but his adamant denial of using it on you for personal gain had guilt dimming your desire. Oh.

"I'm sorry," you said after a moment, the tension slowly dissipating. "I shouldn't have accused you of that. It's just... all of this is a lot to take in."

Lysander nodded, his expression softening. "I understand. It's not every day you meet someone who can bend luck to their will. You’re not the first person to think I’d use it for… that."

There was a look in his dark eyes, a vulnerability that made your chest ache and breath hitch. Without thinking, you reached out to take his hand.

"I would never do that," he reiterated, his voice tinged with a sincerity that resonated within you.

"I believe you," you said softly, and without another word, you leaned in for another kiss.

This kiss was different from the first. It was slow, careful, Lysander’s lips pliable against your own in a way that made you shudder against him. You were lost in the sensation, the way his lips moved against yours, gentle yet insistent. When he bit your lower lip, a jolt of desire shot through you, and you responded with equal fervour, the kiss turning rougher, more passionate.

The moment was broken by the bartender clearing his throat, a subtle reminder that you were still in a public place. Reluctantly, you and Lysander parted, both smiling, the lingering taste of the kiss still on your lips.

Lysander's eyes twinkled with a mixture of desire and amusement. "Would you perhaps like to go on a date with me? Somewhere nice, away from all this," he gestured around the casino.

The invitation was tempting, the prospect of spending more time with him outside the enchanted walls of the casino appealing. "Yes," you said, your heart racing with excitement. "I'd like that."

As Lysander signalled the bartender to settle the tab, you felt a sense of anticipation for what was to come.

“So,” you said with a grin, “where are you taking me on this date?

Lysander’s grin matched your own. "That remains to be seen. I thought you liked a mystery?”

Your laughed was melodic as you replied, “oh, I do.”

#exophilia fiction #exophilia #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #monster romance #tag: mxf #tag: male monster #tag: female #tag: female reader #tag: sfw #tag: fae

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terato-is-life · 8 months

Text

Any good illustrator to draw a cover for an upcoming book of mine?

#exophilia #monster x human #monster family #male monster x female reader #monster boyfriend #monster lover #female monster x female human #female monster x male human #monster girlfriend #male monster x male human #orc #vampire #naga #fae #fairy #werewolf

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serpentandlily · 3 months

Text

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny III

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny - Eris x Archeron!Reader

Summary: You find yourself ensnared by a sly, cunning fox. A very handsome, irritating one.

Warnings: none

a/n: hope you enjoy this one just as much as the others!

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

Part III

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

“That was…weird,” Mor remarked.

You agreed. You had no idea what to make of Eris’s behavior. Feyre and Rhys seemed to be locked in a mental conversation, leaving the rest of you to silence. You rubbed at your arm, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. You didn’t want to create any problems for your sister but you also didn’t want to leave.

“He had a point,” Rhys finally said before looking at you with those violet eyes that reminded you far too much of a certain pair of amber ones. They both held too many secrets. “But I don’t think Beron will prove to be much of a problem as long as we keep his focus on other things.”

Feyre nodded along. “Besides, what is Beron going to do about it, anyways? Short of killing us, there is nothing to be done.”

You felt a flicker of fear but pushed it down. Rhys was the most powerful High Lord. Surely he would defend you and your sister if it came down to it. Feyre was also powerful in her own right and could fight for herself but you…

“We won’t let any harm come to you,” Rhys promised, his voice softening. “And what did I say about keeping those mental shields up?”

You turned red and quickly slammed the gates to your mind closed.

“I would like to stay,” you mumbled, sheepishly. “But I don’t want to cause problems.”

Mor waved a dismissive hand. “Nonsense. Eris talks out of his ass most of the time. He probably just wanted to put us on edge. You being here is not a problem, doll.”

You didn’t feel comforted in the slightest.

“Well, if that's settled,” Rhys said, standing up. “I believe it is time for us to make our way towards the meeting room.”

You let out a breath, trying to settle your nerves from Eris’s display. Feyre gave you a small smile, linking her arm through yours. “Don’t look so nervous. There’s going to be some friendly faces in the crowd.”

You nodded, still feeling anxious about the whole thing. Although you hardly considered Vassa and Jurian your friends, at least you were familiar with them. Unfortunately, you were also familiar enough with Lord Nolan and his son.

Feyre placed her other hand in Rhys’s extended elbow and the two of them led you out of the chambers and into the wide corridor. Your breaths were still shaky once your group got to the staircase that would lead you to the meeting room with the reflection pool.

Feyre unwrapped her arm from yours and Azriel stepped forward instead.

“Azriel is going to escort you in,” she explained. “If you feel nervous, just stay by his side. Okay?”

You gave her a small nod and let them lead the way forward. When your group finally reached the top of the staircase, you were a bit relieved to see that the Autumn Court wasn’t present yet. Your eyes darted around the room, landing on all the various High Lords and their entourages, trying to place them in their respective courts.

“That right there is Tarquin,” Azriel whispered from beside you, following your eyesight. “High Lord of Summer.”

“And him?”

“Kallias, High Lord of Winter. His wife and mate, Vivianne, is the female next to him.”

“Another High Lady?”

“Not quite,” Azriel answered. He inclined his head towards a different group. “That’s Helion, High Lord of the Day Court.”

The male he nodded to was quickly approaching your group, a serpentine smile on his face. Gods, you were still not quite used to how beautiful the fae were. Helion looked like a God in his own right. His eyes passed over your group until they landed on you and lingered for a second longer.

You watched as he greeted Feyre, Rhysand and Mor before turning his head towards you and Azriel.

“Shadowsinger,” he nearly purred, “Always happy to see you.”

Azriel didn’t smile, didn’t move. In fact, he shot the High Lord an exasperated look as if this flirtatious behavior was all too common. That didn’t stop you from blushing when the High Lord looked at you and smiled coyly.

“And who might you be?”

He reached out a hand but before you could open your mouth, the High Lord was suddenly knocked to the side, stumbling over himself.

“My apologies, High Lord,” Eris sneered at Helion. “Perhaps you shouldn’t stand in the middle of a walkway.”

Eris strode away before Helion could even respond, his brothers trailing after him, glaring around the room. Your jaw nearly dropped at his audacity but you quickly schooled your face, watching Helion glare at their backs. He seemed to shake off the encounter quickly, his charming persona snapping back into place as your sister came up on your side.

“Helion,” she said, “this is my sister, Y/n. She’s here to help us discuss the peace treaty with the humans.”

Your introduction with Helion was short lived as Thesan called for the start of the meeting now that everyone was here. The first half of the meeting was just with the fae before the human leaders were to be brought in. Since you were primarily there for the humans, your thoughts drifted away as the fae leaders began their discussions.

Your eyes trailed over all the courts—taking interest in how different each fae looked depending on where they came from. But your gaze kept falling on one fae in particular. The red headed male sat behind his daunting father. He hadn’t once looked in your direction. Part of you was glad for it, because it would be embarrassing to be caught blatantly staring at him as you were. Another part of you longed for him to look your way… You had no idea where that feeling came from.

Eris was dressed far more formally than he had been the last two times you had seen him. He wore a dark green vest stitched with golden thread, tiny leaves embroidered along the seams, on top of a cream button up. A golden fox brooch was pinned at the neck of his collar, probably the Vanserra family’s emblem. His pants were an even darker green, almost appearing black and neatly tucked into his boots. Around his shoulders was a matching green cape coat embellished in gold detailing much like his vest.

His red hair looked like a raging fire next to all the green, his pale skin glistening in the soft lighting of the room. He was so distractingly beautiful, even with that familiar haughty smirk on his face. It didn’t matter that there were far more powerful, commanding fae in the room. Your eyes could not keep off him.

Like a moth to flame.

Eris’s honey amber eyes finally met yours and you felt something snapped inside of you. You gasped as a golden thread unraveled within you and shot out across the room—all the way to the male seated across from you….all the way to Eris.

Mate.

The word clanged through your head, drowning all other thoughts.

Mate.

Eris was your mate.

In your shock, you missed the warning look Eris shot your way. You gasped, loudly, drawing the attention of the room as you stood so suddenly, your chair was knocked to the ground behind you. Your heart was pounding in your chest, that golden thread thrumming with sparks of flame.

Your sister quickly rose from her seat, placing a hand on your upper arm to steady you. Azriel too had jumped up, his hand ghosting over Truth-teller, as if ready for whatever invisible threat was occuring.

Eris stood abruptly, almost panting. Your eyes never left those amber ones. Not even as they seemed to plead with you to sit, to hide, to disappear from this room entirely.

“What’s wrong?” Feyre asked, her voice hurried and filled with concern. Her eyes followed your line of sight and darted back to you and down to the hand you held to your chest.

Rhysand seemed to catch on to what was happening quicker.

“Azriel, get her out of here,” he ordered the shadowsinger.

A scarred hand wrapped around yours and a second later, you were engulfed in a wave of shadows.

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

“Rhysand,” Thesan said, “Please answer for that display. What antics have occurred in your court to disrupt such a meeting?”

Feyre’s hands were shaking as Rhysand latched onto them, guiding her back to her chair softly. “Apologies, Y/n is still a bit sensitive to magic since coming out of the cauldron. You’ll have to forgive her sudden departure.”

“And here I thought you had moved on from your lying and deceiving ways, Rhysand,” Beron jumped in, his voice filled with wicked amusement. “It appears a congratulation is in order.” He turned to face his son. “It seems to me that a mating bond has just snapped into place.”

Eris’s face was unreadable as he sat back down, fists clenched at his sides.

“Explain yourselves,” Tarquin interjected, looking bemused. “How do you have another Made female in your court, Rhysand?”

“She is my sister,” Feyre declared. “And she was there the day Hybern forced all of them into the cauldron.”

“Why was she not included in the reports from that day?” Thesan asked, sitting up straighter.

“She was under our protection,” Rhysand answered. “She was hardly more than a child at the time.”

“Liar. She never came out of the cauldron,” Tamlin said, sharply, eyes narrowing. “Your reports never included her because she never came out of the cauldron that day.”

“Well, considering you all just saw her alive and in person,” Rhysand shrugged, picking a piece of lint from his coat. “Obviously, she did. Perhaps your head was too far up Hybern’s ass to see.”

Tamlin growled but was cut off by Beron.

“Where have you taken my son’s mate?” Beron demanded.

“That is none of your concern.”

“Rhysand, you cannot possibly keep her away from her mate,” Thesan said. “He is entitled—”

“He is entitled to nothing,” Feyre snapped. “The Night Court does not force females to accept mating bonds. As she falls under our jurisdiction, she has our full protection against any of your antiquated beliefs.”

“Leave it to the Night Court to spit on traditions,” Beron hissed. “A mating bond works both ways. As the other half falls under my jurisdiction, my son has all the right to invoke a blood duel if you wish to keep her from him.”

The Lady of Autumn looked alarmed at her husband’s words but said nothing. Neither did Eris, who seemed to be choosing his next moves very carefully.

“Wouldn’t be the first time the Night Court stole a female away,” Tamlin said, sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“Oh please, spare us from revisiting your despair,” Helion chuckled, humorlessly.

“Have we all forgotten why we are here today?” Kallias cut in, his tone cold. “Must we argue over something that does not involve the rest of our courts? This meeting has already been derailed and some of us have better things to do with our time then listen to squabbles.”

“This is not over, Rhysand,” Beron hissed. Eris still sat stoically behind his father, not faltering in the slightest. “You and I have much to discuss after we deal with the humans lest you wish to start a conflict between our courts.”

“Fine,” Rhysand growled. “But prepare yourself and your son for disappointment.”

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

You paced in the sitting room in the River House, your heart still beating rapidly, your thoughts out of control. A mating bond. A godsdamn mating bond had snapped between you and Eris of all people. Eris, the male whose reputation followed him like darkened clouds. Eris, the male who had left Mor to die in the woods all those years ago. Eris, the Heir of Autumn, the son of one of the most ruthless fae in all of Prythian.

Surely it was a mistake. It had to be.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Elain suggested, gently, patting the cushion beside her on the couch. “Feyre will get it all sorted out. You needn’t worry so much.”

“How can I not worry? How can I not worry when Eris of all people is my mate, Elain?” You rubbed at your chest, already feeling an emptiness there now that you had been separated from him. “This must be a mistake. A trick, perhaps?”

“Perhaps,” Elain agreed, though she didn’t sound like she believed it for one second. “But there’s not much you can do about it now. Not until they return from the meeting.”

You let out a long breath and plopped onto the couch next to her. Elain brushed a hand through your hair, guiding you to lay down on her lap. “It’ll be okay, Y/n. A mating bond isn’t the end of all things. Feyre would never let that male get his hands on you.”

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? Some part of you wanted that male. Not the Eris that the others saw. But the one you had seen in those secret moments between the two of you. The alluring fox behind the mask.

Your heart sang for him now that the mating bond had snapped into place. He hadn’t seemed surprised in the slightest….like he had already known about it. Had it snapped for him? Had he known this whole time that you were his mate? Why wouldn’t he tell you? Maybe…

maybe he didn’t want you…

Hours went by. The whole night passed. You didn’t stray from the couch, neither did Elain. You appreciated your sister comforting you. You wished Nesta wasn’t on her mating vacation and was here to help you as well…maybe she would know what to do.

The door to the house opening had you sitting up, rubbing at your red rimmed eyes. Elain woke abruptly as well, wiping the drool that was dribbling from the corner of her mouth. Feyre, Rhysand and Mor strode in, all looking just as exhausted as you.

“Well, I’m glad that shitshow is over,” Mor said, falling on one of the settees dramatically.

A second later, Amren and Azriel came into the room, both wearing unreadable expressions. Amren’s silver eyes studied you for a moment before moving to Feyre and Rhysand.

“How’d it go?”

“Awful,” Rhysand sighed. “No one could come to an agreement.”

“Did the humans not want to sign?” You asked, purposefully avoiding the other topic.

Feyre shook her head. “No, they were…even less receptive than we thought they’d be.”

“What happens now?” Elain asked.

“We go through that again and again, I suppose,” Rhys answered. “Until a peace treaty is signed.”

The room fell into a heavy silence until you broke it, minutes later.

“And…and what of…” You trailed off, unable to say the words, unable to ask about the male that had been on your mind since you had been whisked away from the meeting.

“Beron will be visiting the Court of Nightmares tomorrow,” Rhys said, hesitantly, gauging your emotions. “To discuss what is to be done. It is unfortunate that he knows about the bond now because there is little Eris can do as long as his father is in power.”

“He can finally kill the bastard,” Mor grumbled into a pillow.

“We must tread carefully,” Amren said. “If Eris is forced to call for a blood duel against Rhysand, he will die and one of his brutish brothers will be next in line for the throne.”

“What!” You exclaimed. “A blood duel? Would he…would he really do that? Fight Rhysand even if it means certain death?”

Eris was powerful, sure. But he was still only an heir, not a full blown High Lord like Rhysand. He would be misted in seconds. Just that thought of it sent you into a panic.

“I’ll fight him in your place,” Azriel said, darkly, looking at Rhys but he shook his head.

“We cannot risk that,” Rhys said.

“Do you really think Beron would have his own son fight and die in a blood duel?” Feyre asked.

“Of course he would. One less person he has to keep off his throne,” Amren said.

“He’s a monster,” Elain whispered, staring at you with concern.

“Yes, he is,” Rhys sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “So we must do as Amren said and tread very carefully.”

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

The next day, you stood in the foyer of the River House, dressed in a simple dark blue, silk dress. Your stomach was tossing and turning with nerves, scared of what would happen during this meeting with Beron. You hated that you were causing your sister and Rhysand so much stress, hated that you were in the middle of this conflict.

You wished you could turn back time. Wished you could go back to that moment the mating bond snapped so you could hide the realization better. You had always worn your heart on your sleeve and it had finally bit you in the ass.

You had no idea how today was going to play out.

You were certain of one thing, though. You ached to see Eris again. The mating bond had nearly kept you up all night. Feyre had tried teaching you how to block if off, but it was hard. Eris seemed to have no problem keeping his side of the bond locked down. It infuriated you to know he was probably feeling every single emotion from you.

“Are you ready?” Rhys asked as Feyre, Mor and Azriel slid into view.

Rhys and Feyre were dressed like they always were when making trips to Hewn City. Mor wore a scandalous red dress that clung to her beautiful curves and Azriel wore his Illyrian leathers, as per usual, all seven siphons on display.

You nodded, unable to even speak.

The next hour seemed to happen while you were stuck in a daze. Rhys winnowed you all to Hewn City and led you into the throne room where everyone was waiting. Word must’ve spread quickly of what had occurred. Keir escorted Beron and Eris into the throne room after the formalities were done.

You couldn’t find the nerve to look at Eris now that you were in the same room. You had shown your hand during that meeting and had caused an avalanche to fall in its wake. You felt guilty, ashamed and scared…so scared.

A dumb bunny, indeed.

Rhys and Feyre led you all to a private meeting room, shutting the door in Keir’s face as he tried to join. You sat, hiding your shaking hands in your lap, keeping your eyes on the floor.

“Well, I assume you have come to your senses by now,” Beron said, leaning back in his chair as if he commanded the room. “The girl comes with us. The Night Court owes Autumn a bride as it is.”

His glare focused on Mor for a moment and she scoffed in his direction.

“Not so fast, Beron,” Rhysand tsked, pouring himself a glass of wine. “We don’t owe you anything. It was your court that ultimately broke the marriage agreement all those years ago.”

Beron sat up with a sneer. “I believe it was broken the moment that girl decided to whore herself out to an Illyrian bastard of all people.”

You tensed in your seat, gripping the dress in your fists.

“Father, please,” Eris sighed, making you look up at him finally.

Beron glanced at his son before turning back to Rhysand. “You should be overjoyed that we’re willing to take the girl as it is, considering the beasts in your court have probably ran through her already.”

“Watch your mouth,” Feyre snapped.

The smell of burning wood filled the room and Eris flexed his hands, new scorch marks on the table underneath them. “Don’t speak of her like that.”

Beron laughed. It was an awful sound. “Right, my apologies, son. Don’t worry, those mating instincts will go away once you’ve fucked her for a near century.”

Your face turned bright red at the crude words. Eris growled. The sound was so primitive, so animalistic. It sent chills down your spine. Even Beron looked unnerved for a moment.

“You are not winning yourself any favors,” Rhysand purred, smirking at the older male. “Have you any dignity?”

“Have you?” Beron bit back. “You all but spit on the face of the Mother by keeping her away from her mate. This is more of a blessing for you then it is us. A marriage alliance with Autumn, one you do not deserve that we are graciously offering.”

“Let me make myself clear, Beron, since you refuse to listen,” Rhysand snapped. “Our court has no laws that require a female to accept a bond. You would really go to war over something like this? While our courts are still recovering from the last one?”

Rhys and Feyre had theorized that Beron was so adamant about forcing you into the bond not because he cared for his son, but for two other reasons. One, you were Made. They had all seen how powerful Nesta was because of it and Beron craved power above all else.

Two, it was another way to keep Eris in check. To dangle you over his head as a threat.

“Perhaps we should ask what she wants,” Mor interjected.

“What she wants does not matter,” Beron snarled. “She is mated to an Autumn male, by our laws she must accept.”

“She is a resident of our court,” Feyre argued back. “She does not have to accept it.”

“Then you leave us no choice,” Beron said, rising from his seat. He planted his palms on the table, staring at you all of a sudden. You crumbled into yourself. “Is that what you want, girl? You want us to declare a blood duel against your family?”

You shook your head as Rhysand stood, slamming his own hands on the table. “You would have your son fight in a blood duel against me, a High Lord?”

“Oh, it wouldn’t be against you,” Beron laughed, cruelly. His eyes fell on Feyre. “And it wouldn’t be my son. I will demand a blood duel against your mate. A mate for a mate. Very fitting, don’t you agree?”

Feyre versus Beron…. That bastard had planned this. You’d all been so concerned with Eris declaring a blood duel you didn’t even realize this would be a way Beron could kill Feyre as he wished in a legal way—as barbaric as it was.

And most of the other courts held the mating bond in such regard, you wondered if you’d find any allies against him for doing this beside Helion.

Rhysand growled, darkness leaking off of him,

“And I will just fight you in her place.”

Beron smiled. “Oh, but you see, you can’t. Once a blood duel has been declared you either surrender to the terms or fight. I don’t know where you got your information from but there are no place holders allowed.”

Your heart was racing in your chest.

Silence fell so heavy in the room your ears were ringing. All of this was all your fault. You felt tears line your eyes. You couldn’t let Feyre fight for you. You wouldn’t. Even though she could probably hold her own against him, he was ages older than her—more battle worn. She’d be at a huge disadvantage.

And Eris couldn’t do anything about this, not if it was his father who wished to fight a blood duel. He couldn’t order his father not to.

You couldn’t let her do this. You owed your life to her, you owed everything to her. It was time to start fighting your own battles.

“I’ll go,” you whispered, so quietly you wondered if you had even said the words out loud. “I’ll go.”

Feyre’s head whipped to you. “No, absolutely not.”

But you shook your head. “I do not want anyone fighting on my behalf. I will go with them.”

Beron’s grin grew into one that could rival the devil himself.

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

“We will find a way out of this,” Feyre whispered into your ear as she hugged you. “I promise. Just hold out for us, okay? We’ll get you out of there.”

You nodded, pulling away to brush the tears off her cheek. You weren’t even going to be able to say goodbye to Elain and Nesta. Beron was demanding that you leave right away.

“I’ll be okay, Fey,” you murmured to her.

“Enough of the dramatics,” Beron called out. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Eris didn’t look at you as he held out a hand. You swallowed audibly and walked to his side, grasping it softly. You spared one last glance at your sister before you were winnowed out of Hewn City and into the den of foxes.

“Come here, girl,” Beron barked, now standing before his throne. “Let me get a look at you.”

You glanced at Eris but he just stood there, stoically, not meeting your gaze. You walked towards Beron, trying not to shake in fear.

The older male grasped your chin in his hand, turning your face from side to side as he examined you. Eris’s other brothers stood at the bottom of the dais, their wolfish grins doing little to make you less nervous. The Lady of Autumn was seated in a small chair to the side of the throne, her eyes not lifting from the floor.

“You look just like my other son’s mate,” he remarked. “Smaller, though. The runt of the family, I’m assuming. Pity. Were you not fed properly as a child?”

You weren’t even sure how to reply to that. You decided not to respond and Beron’s eyes narrowed.

“Hmm,” he mused, finally letting go of you. “Have you sullied yourself with those beasts?”

“Father,” Eris growled, stepping up next to you. “That is enough.”

Beron chuckled, mirthlessly, waving a dismissive hand. “Fine, take her away and get her out of those whorish clothes.”

Eris grabbed you by your upper arm and dragged you out of the throne room. You had to walk quickly, trying to keep up with his long legs as he led you down corridor after corridor. The Forest House was magnificent, beautiful. It was a shame that someone like Beron ran this court, you thought, as you studied the place.

Eris finally stopped in front of a room, yanking the door open and pushing you inside. You glared at him as he slammed the door shut behind him, crossing your arms. You were inside of a huge suite, it seemed. A lavish sitting room, with two doors on either side, likely leading to a bedroom and bathing chamber.

“These are my quarters,” Eris explained as he shrugged off his cape coat and tossed it on the red, velvet couch. He began to unbutton his vest as he faced you. “You are to stay here. Do not leave without an escort. Tomorrow, I will assign you two handmaidens to help you.”

Your eyes widened. “I’m…I’m meant to stay here…in your room?”

Eris let out a long sigh. “It is the safest place for you and I do not want to risk rumors.”

“B-but surely this is improper,” you stuttered. “We are not properly mated.”

Eris let out a cruel laugh. “We wouldn’t be in this situation if you hadn’t made such a spectacle at the High Lords’ meeting so don’t start complaining to me.”

You felt a flare of anger.

“You knew,” you grumbled. “You knew about the mating bond between us and you didn’t tell me! Perhaps if you had told me, I wouldn’t have even been in that room! I would’ve stayed home.”

“Unlikely,” Eris sneered, pouring himself a glass of whiskey from a decanter on a bar cart behind the couch. He chugged the drink down, loosening his collar with his other hand. “You don’t seem to have a lot going on in that pretty little head of yours, bunny. Did you ever stop to think about why I might be hiding it?”

“You are such a prick,” you snapped. “I am not one of your little pawns. I am not a part of your stupid games! You should have told me!”

You went to whirl around but Eris grabbed your wrist, dragging you closer to him. You glared up at him, ignoring the way his heat enveloped you in its embrace.

“This is not a game to me,” Eris growled. “Have you any idea what you’ve cost me? Have you any idea what he will do to you if I so much as take a single step out of line now?”

You yanked your wrist out of his grip. “Have you any idea what this has cost me? I’m the one who's been forced out of my home—forced to come here!”

“And who’s fault is that?”

Eris slammed the empty glass down on the cart.

“Gods, sorry I couldn’t read your oh-so-clever mind! Sorry I couldn’t act like an emotionless shell of a person like you!”

“Watch how you speak to me,” Eris snarled. “I can make your life here a living hell, bunny.”

“I’m not scared of you, Eris,” you snapped. “You don’t fool me. I see the real you under that mask and you know what I think—I think it is you who is scared.”

Eris ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “You know nothing. Do you understand? Nothing.”

“Then tell me! Tell me so I can help you! I know you do not wish to see your father in power much longer. Let me help!”

Eris grabbed your chin in his hand, forcing you to look up at him. You hated how cold his amber eyes looked.

“No. Absolutely not. I will not involve you in the slightest,” he snarled before his eyes softened and his hand slipped to cup your cheek instead. “I cannot…I cannot bear to see this place make you cruel. Stay here, where you’ll be safe, bunny. Leave everything else to me. You were not made for this place. But me…You have no idea what kind of monster I can be.”

Eris’s hand dropped back to his side and he stepped away from you, heading towards the door. You were breathing so heavily, your lungs constricting your ribs against the dress you wore.

“Can we talk about this? Please!”

He said nothing, reaching for the handle of the door.

“Eris, please!”

His hand fell against the doorframe, flame licking at the wood—scorching it again. A growl rumbled through his chest and his head hung between his shoulders but he didn’t turn around, didn’t look at you.

“Do not,” he groaned. “Do not say my name like that.”

And then he was gone, leaving you completely alone.

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

When you woke up later that night, you found yourself in an unfamiliar room. You sat up, realizing you were laying in a bed. You were certain you had fallen asleep on the couch, not wanting to even go into Eris’s bedroom.

The silk, dark orange sheets next to you were undisturbed. You rubbed at your eyes, getting up from under the covers. You were still in the dress you had fallen asleep in.

You padded over to the door, opening it slowly. You took two steps into the sitting room before you froze in your spot.

There, on the couch, was Eris. The fireplace was roaring in front of him as he slept, a lump on the floor by his feet. You blinked away the blurriness in your eyes to see what it was.

Ashera was curled up there, the dog you had met that day you had accidentally winnowed into the forest here. She slept soundly on the floor next to him.

You stepped back into the bedroom and closed the door behind you, quietly, not wanting to disturb them.

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

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*If you asked to be on the taglist and you don't see your username, tumblr wouldn't let me tag you for some reason :(

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #eris fanfic #eris x y/n #eris x you #eris vanserra #eris x reader #autumn court #archeron sisters #eris x archeron!reader #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra acotar #eris vanserra fic

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stormhearty · 3 months

Text

Pushed to the Edge

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Trigger: angst, cheating, suicide, death

Word Count: 3k

Summary: You were the official seer of Night Court for nearly 500 years. the Inner Circle had always listened to you and your visions; however, when the Archeron sisters came and Elain started to show her powers, your family started to shift their attention to her visions. When you try to voice your warnings about the death-lord’s resurrection, everyone gave you the cold shoulder, ignoring your prophesies — this included your mate.

Note: no hate to Azriel or Elain, it just helped with the plot. and Also, I know it's completely unreasonable for Azriel to not have the Truth-Teller be with him at all times, just go with it for now. And I am working on “Reach Your Voice” Series, I’m still trying to figure out how to make sure each of our boys spends quality time with the reader.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue

<Pushed to the Edge> Masterlist

“That sounds absolutely absurd… How many times will you try to warn about something that will never happen?”

Your voiced died in your throat as you watched Rhysand look at you with apprehension before focusing on the paperwork in front of him.

You had ran into his office, waking up in cold sweat after another vision of another Death God crawling it’s way back into Prythian. You had tried to forewarn your High Lord for weeks on end ever since you first saw that vision. However, your warnings had been ignored by Rhysand. You knew that it sounded impossible, you knew that, Prythian had just finished a war — one that almost destroyed the world.

After the war with the King of Hybern, Prythian was slowly returning to its normal … well, attempting to fix what was broken by the King. The Night Court was healing, trying to rebuild itself again to its glory, helping other Courts to fix the damages that the war caused. Rhysand had been through an ordeal, losing his life to save Prythian and you knew that your High Lord was still recuperating from that tragedy. You knew that your High Lady was as well, almost losing her mate.

They didn’t need another war to happen when peace had barely returned.

But you also knew there was another reason your High Lord had been ignoring your for forewarning. You looked to the side, one where the rest of the Inner Circle was watching the confrontation. Cassian and Nesta, sitting close to each other, a glass of wine in their hands, whispering to each other, mostly likely about you and your vision. You could barely pick up with your keen Fae hearing on what they were saying.

“Do you think what she’s saying is real? That Koschei is trying to come back?”

“Elain hasn’t seen it though…”

The whisper of the middle Archeron child echoed in your ears as you looked at the Made Fae. She sat next to the window, brown eyes that seemed to sparkle like the sun rested on you before turning over to the male that she was sitting with. Your gaze followed hers to Azriel — your mate— but you can see that he didn’t bother to glance in your direction, only to focus on the delicate female next to him.

It hurt. You watched as the two of them conversed, glancing back in your direction before focusing on each other.

It was no secret, not for you, on Elain’s growing infatuation for the Shadowsinger, and in turn his own growing affections for the middle Archeron child — and in turn, losing his love for you.

You woke up in an empty bed, your mate missing from his side. You tried to talk to Cassian about how his day went, on if he would still train you with the Valkyries if he had time. You tried to converse with Rhysand and Feyre, seeing if they were healing properly after the war, wanting to make sure your High Lord and Lady were safe. You sought after you mate, wanting to spend even a second with him.

But they disregarded you so easily. Especially after they had found out that Elain had similar powers to you, one that was gifted to her by the Cauldron — one that was deemed more powerful than your own.

Your role as the Official Seer of Night Court was granted to you after Helion had sent you as an emissary for Day Court. Helion had found you wandering around Day Court lands. You had been a wandering child, with no real attachment to any Court, abandoned in the streets by your family at the age of five when your seer powers started to come into light. Helion had taken you in when you were ten, helped you hone your powers. Being a seer had been a mystery, no one in your heritage (that you were aware of) was a seer. And it baffled Helion on why such a remarkable gift had been casted aside.

You had stayed with the Night Court, gaining their trust and friendship for five centuries, gaining your own little foothold in their family. You had been a pillar when Rhysand had been trapped Under the Mountain for nearly fifty years. You helped Mor and Armen with the official Night Court Duties, trained with Cassian to ensure you were strong enough to fight when neither he nor Azriel was there.

During your time protecting Valeris from the eyes of Amarantha, your mating bond with the Shadowsinger snapped. It had been difficult at the start, both of you were still struggling with the disappearance of your High Lord, along with the weight of protecting the very city he hidden from view. But during that time, you became each other’s pillar, each other’s comfort in such a dark time. Falling in love with Azriel wasn’t difficult.

But keeping his love, apparently, was the most difficult.

When the Archeron sister’s came into everyone’s lives, it caused a tip in the scales. You loved Feyre, you loved your High Lady. You would do anything in your power to ensure she was safe and well cared for. But for the Cauldron-Made sisters, it was difficult for you to accept them.

They were different. You couldn’t see anything about them, as if the Cauldron had masked them from you powers. It made you terrified of them. Feyre and Rhysand had tried to assure you that the Archeron sisters deemed no threat to the Night Court. And you trusted them — trusted your High Lord and Lady without a blink of an eye. And yes, while their words deemed true, you did not realize that they were a different type of threat. One that would eventually lose your foothold in the Night Court.

You swallowed, your throat parched as you glanced from the sight of your mate and Elain speaking to one another to Rhysand and then to Feyre who had stood next to him. She gave you a worried look, wondering what you were wanting to tell them.

The air was tense, the declaration from your High Lord seeming to echo in your surroundings — he had deemed your vision to be false. And he had never done that before.

“… But…” you whispered, your voice nothing but wind in such a large room, “… I’ve seen it so many times, Rhys. Someone is trying to resurrect him. That they need a piece of something from the Cauldron — -”

“The Cauldron is with Miryam and Drakon… in Creta. There is no way that anyone would be able to use that power again,” Rhysand’s tone was taut, as if trying to drawn a line between the truth and your vision, “Your vision must be wrong, (Y/N). There is no way that Koschei can be resurrected from that lake.”

Another swallow, “But what if it doesn’t have to be the Cauldron itself. It could be something that was Made from the Cauldron.”

Rhysand’s eyes snapped up from his desk, up to you, eyes darkening at the words you were insinuating, “—- What are you trying to say, (Y/N)?”

You let out a shaky breath, eyes shifting down to your hands, fiddling with your fingernails — a habit that you’ve had ever since you were a child — one that would leave your hands raw from removing skin, ‘… Nesta and Elain were Made from the Cauldron. If it were to get word to the followers of Koschei, they… they could be in danger. The power that resides in them is the Cauldron… Nesta took something from the Cauldron and did not return it… They could be looking for that.”

It was already bad that you were trying to suggest a return of a Death God, months after a war with Hybern, but it was worse that you were even implying that the sisters were the center of being in danger again.

A dark shadow stood in front of you and you looked up to see Azriel. The golden string that connected the two of you sung, it had been weeks since Azriel went near you, but you knew that his side of the bond was shut, enshroud by shadows, completely shutting you out.

“Az—-” you said his name, as if it was a prayer, hoping he’d be the voice of reason. That he would back up you and your visions. As he always had in the past.

“How can we know that your visions are truth, (Y/N)? There are two Seers in the Night Court now, and yet you are the only one who sees this.”

Your ears rang, a high pitch noise echoing through them as disbelief shook your body. Azriel never distrusted you, never doubted your visions and your forewarnings.

The bond in you ached, as if it was burning you on the inside. Tears lined your eyes as you looked up at your mate, brows furrowing, “…How could you, Azriel?” you muttered, the pain lining your tone, “How can you not trust me?” your voice small.

“Because Elain hasn’t seen it,” was all he had to say.

Hot tears ran your cheeks, as you shakily stepped back from the male that had towered you. You glanced at Cassian and Nesta who looked at you, their eyes inattentive to the pain that you were feeling. You glanced at your High Lord, who looked at you with disinterest. You looked at your High Lady, the only person in the room that seemed to have noticed your pain and anguish, as she took a step towards you way, only to be stopped by Rhysand, his hand around her wrist.

“… So, just because the Cauldron-Made Seer hasn’t seen it, doesn’t mean that it is going to happen?” you asked, your question in the air for everyone to think, “… Just because I wasn’t a Seer Made by the Cauldron, that my visions and my words are not real? That I am a lesser of a Seer than her?”

“(Y/N)—-” Feyre, the voice of reason, called our your name.

You took a step back again, head shaking at them, “I’ve worked my life off for the Night Court. Ensuring that your city is safe, making sure that any danger would never step past the wards that you have put up. I have never hidden anything from any of you. I used my visions and my powers for all of you. And yet…” your voice shook at the end, not believing anything that was happening in front of you, “You disregard me… the moment a better Seer shows up. One that is Cauldron-Made… one that you…” eyes shifting to Azriel, “Deems more suitable for you.

“I’ve seen it. Not only in my visions but here with you all. You have decided to all turn a blind eye to it, decided not to tell me about it. Three sisters for three brothers, isn’t it, Azriel?”

Azriel’s form stiffed in front of you — he did not think that you would have heard that.

You were done, you were tired. You were tired of the lies and the deceit from whom you thought were family.

Feyre’s brows furrowed as she looked at you and then her elder sisters before the back of Azriel. Rhysand stood up as well, standing next to his High Lady at your declaration.

“… What are you talking about, (Y/N)?” Feyre asked, watching your form shake.

“Don’t you lie to me…” you muttered, glaring at your High Lady, “Don’t you dare lie that you have not seen it. Don’t you dare tell me that you have not noticed that Azriel and Elain have been together all this time. That you have turned a blind eye that a mated male would be infatuated, would fall in love with someone else that was not his Cauldron-bound mate. Don’t you dare lie to me you have not all seen it, and have ignored it and not tell me about it.

“You also have all disregarded me and my visions, ever since Elain started to show her own powers. You have all deemed, even without you telling me, that my powers are not worthy enough. That you all would listen to her cryptic visions rather than my own.”

Your words were rushed, you were hyperventilating to the point that your visions swam, but you shook your head, focusing on the scene unfolding — Feyre’s surprised look, Nesta and Cassian staring wide-eye at Elain before glancing at the Shadowsinger in front of you and your High Lord gripping the edge of the table, his violet eyes clearing as if he was in a trance, as if his mind has been cleared and he realized what he has done and what was unfolding with his family.

“No, (Y/N), that’s not what we meant…” he tried to reason, try to gain back your trust in the found family you had with them.

You scrunched your face, shaking your head as you looked at your High Lord before back at your mate, “…That’s what you have meant for the months you have been ignoring my forewarnings. Been ignoring me. Because Elain’s powers are better than mine, you have casted me aside…” Another step back, glancing at the grand door behind you before you glanced back at the family who had lost you, to the mate that had broken your entire being, “You had decided, to your own conscious, to fall in love with someone else, who is bound to someone else, just because you deemed that the Cauldron was wrong. I don’t understand what I have done to you, Azriel… when I have spent nearly five-hundred years with you, fifty years with you as your mate. And you, knowing Elain for a mere five minutes, throwing all that away…”

Azriel looked at you, his chest rising and falling quickly, his eyes staring you down. He watched as tears continued to flood down your cheeks, your form shaking even further. You couldn’t do it, you couldn’t just stand here and be the object that they throw away.

So, you ran, ran out of that room, your name echoing behind you as your dress swirled behind you. You climbed up the spiraling stairs to your shared room with Azriel, throwing up the strongest ward you can muster behind you and around you. You couldn’t handle it.

You couldn’t handle the echo of the bond in your chest, you couldn’t handle the empty stare of your mated looking at you. You couldn’t handle the thought that you were so easily replaceable. A sob escaped your lips as you rummaged through Azriel’s drawer of weapons, pulling out the one weapon that he never is without — Truth-Teller. Dark tendrils of shadow gripped your wrist as you looked around you, Azriel’s shadows surrounding you.

That was where his shadows went — they had always disappeared when he was around Elain, yet they were here with you.

Frantic knocks startled you as you grasped the weapon close to your chest, your head whipping around towards the door. You heard them — Feyre’s panicked voice, Rhysand’s apologizes, Cassian yelling your name. But you didn’t hear that one voice that you had loved — you knew Azriel wasn’t there.

That had pushed you. Gripping the weapon, you moved to the bathroom, the shadows following your every movement. As you kneeled down on the marble floor, you felt the tug of the shadows against your hand, trying to will the weapon out of your grip — attempting you to stop at a take of your life.

You had always loved the shadows that surrounded Azriel, both physically and metaphorically speaking. They had always comforted you, protected you, always had been there for both of you when times were tough. But this was one of the times that you didn’t want them protecting you, comforting you.

“Please..” you begged at them. Whether or not they would listen or sprint off to their master, they backed off, though a few tendrils stayed behind, slithering around your wrist, holding Truth-Teller, as if a reminder not to do it. But you had made your mind — you couldn’t stay and be pushed to the side. Not anymore.

And with a last breath impaled yourself with your mate’s beloved knife, the very knife he had handed Elain during the war, was the last thing you remembered. As your body fell against the marbled floor, your soul leaving your body, you felt the tendrils of shadow frantically skim over your body, as if to try to find a piece of life still clinging onto you. Eyes looked and watched as the ward was broken and your High Lord and Lady skidding towards your body as your soul left for the skies above, the cool feeling of shadow never leaving your body.

A gasp escaped your lips, the dull ache on your chest making you rub at it.

“— - What…” you mumbled, your voice hoarse as if not used for a century.

“That Shadowsinger did not know what he had decided to let go, huh…” A voice, one so dark and so familiar echoing.

You knew that voice, that voice that haunted you in your visions for weeks — the same voice that you tried to warn your family about. Eyes opening, you were surrounded by the dark, the voice of the Death-God echoing around you.

“I should have died…” you voiced to no-one.

A laugh echoed around you, “You did, (Y/N), but you forget that I am a Death-God… And I can resurrect anyone I wish. Now, that your family has abandoned you, why don’t you join me. Show them what happens when a Seer of your capacity has been cast aside. I should have had you when that original family of yours stranded you, but that damn High Lord of Day found you first. Anyway… come child…”

You laid there, in the darkness, before you shakily reach out a hand, before spiny fingers grasped onto yours and pulled you out of that darkness.

#acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #acotar angst #a court of thorns and roses #( .one shot : pushed to the edge )

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artists-ally · 5 months

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{Show Me Where It Hurts} Azriel x Reader x Xaden Riorson

Sooooooo I had a thought. And then this happened. That's all I'm gonna say. Just two shadow daddies doing unspeakable things. Title inspired by this song. Enjoy!

Word Count: 7,238

Warnings: ACOTAR x Fourth Wing, alcohol, smut, MMF, Oral (m and f receiving), DP, dom/sub vibes, use of the nickname "pet", bondage, shadow play, degrading, spanking, choking, spitting, unprotected sex.

Tagging: @needylilgal022 @librafairy @cyrygher @agent-anna @thelov3lybookworm @blessthepizzaman @bubybubsters

Summary: After a miserably failed night out, you decide to head to a local bar to drink away your sorrows. Two males, one of them being your Court Spy Master, the other a stranger, approached you.

~~~~~

“Are you kidding me?” “I understand your frustration but-”

“My frustration?” I shouted, eyes wide. “What do you mean he did book a reservation?”

“There has been no reservation made under that name. I am truly sorry, Yn. But it looks like he may have… done it on purpose?”

“No,” I shook my head. I could not fathom being stood up let alone whatever this was. “No this cannot be right. I-I spoke with him this morning, he said that our table was reserved for tonight.” The hostess offered me a kind look as the realization slowly settled in my bones. “Oh my gods… he set me up.”

“If I were you,” the pretty Fae came around her stand and took my hands in hers. “I’d find a way to forget about that damned male. He clearly is undeserving of you or your kindness. I wouldn’t sweat it, a pretty one like you won’t go unnoticed for very long.”

I tried to smile, but a grimace was the best I could do. “I feel like such an idiot. Thank you for all your help…” I paused to look at the little tag on her black tunic. “Jasmina.”

“My deepest apologies, Yn,” Jasmina waved as I exited the restaurant and the bitter Velaris air nipped at my bare shoulders.

What a fucking lame excuse for a male. How dare he stand me up on a date? He was the one practically begging on his knees to ask me. I should’ve known better. Males like him do not like females like me.

In an attempt to not let the night–or the fierce outfit I put together-go to waste, I went a couple streets over to a tavern. It had a nice ambiance and a surplus of good liquor. The dark, rustic interior greeted me with a ploom of warm air and the scent of cheap ale and wine.

After hanging my coat on the rack at the front, I weaved through the rather crowded space to hopefully snag a stool at the bar. I was lucky enough to get one at the end, only one person to my left and the wall to my right.

I just sighed. What a shitty day. I had spent a few hours getting read, and for what? To be made a fool? To be embarrassed? I shouldn’t have to pay the consequences for something I didn’t have control over. I swear to the gods that if I ever see what’s-his-face again I’ll put my fist through it.

“Evening, milady,” the polished man behind the counter said. He had a thick beard and a mustache that curled up on the ends. He had a thick accent too, probably from somewhere in the hills. “Celebrating tonight?” “More like mourning,” I huffed, bracing my chin on my palm.

“Terribly sorry for your loss,” his eyes softened. “Oh,” I gave a chuckle. “No, not a death. I just came in from what was supposed to be a date. Turns out I was set up and he wasn’t going to be coming.”

The male scoffed. “The boldness from some of the males in this city.”

“Tell me about it.”

“What can I get for you?” He asked, wiping a few glasses down and setting them atop a stack.

I looked at the board behind him, the list of crafted beverages going on and on. “Maybe something sweet?”

“Do you like cherries? Passion fruit, pineapple maybe?”

“Cherries are wonderful,” I sat up a little straighter. “I honestly couldn’t care less about what alcohol is in it. You had me at cherries.”

The male smiled, “I shall put in an extra just for you, darling.”

“Thank you,” I smiled and watched him get to work.

The tavern was far more crowded than I expected for a weekday. There were more people than tables and chairs to accommodate them. Some even sitting on the tables. But the hum of voices and clinking glasses was the type of ambient sound that could put me right to sleep if I laid my head down.

I felt incredibly comfortable and safe here. Not that I didn’t other places in the city, but something about being here was… calming. People were enjoying themselves, and it was like I was the only person in here with a scowl on their face.

The crack of billiards had my head turning the other way as I saw a group huddled around a green velvet table with colored balls scattered around. I recognized one immediately as our High Lady. And right beside her was the High Lord.

“This is called a cherry sour. It is made of distilled vodka and lemon. I added some cherry syrup to give it a little extra sweetness for you,” he said, placing the drink in front of me.

“It looks lovely.” I smelled it and it was strong. When I took a sip, it was like my brain blew up. The most strange combinations of flavors, yet somehow it all worked. The brutal burn of the alcohol mixed with the bitter lemon and sweet cherry made my stomach burn. “I see the High Lord is in tonight.”

“Yes,” he nodded, “he is here with the High Lady and a few of their courtiers. The commanding general as well as the Morrigan. And the shadowsinger is here… somewhere. He was with another male when he walked in.”

“I have visited other Courts before. I have never seen any of their High Lords step foot outside of their palaces to so much as wave at their people let alone live amongst them like Rhysand does.”

The craftsman nodded in agreement. “He is not the traditional Lord our continent has come to know, and that is what makes him a vital part of our city. He’s our founder. He built our sanctuary not for us but for himself, too. It is only fair that he dines and plays games where he chooses.”

“Have you ever met them?” I asked curiously.

“Of course, they are here a few times a month. Morrigan and Cursebreaker’s sister are in here more.”

I glanced again, finding a few more heads now joining them. The general, Cassian, was in conversation with a shorter male, his brown hair glistening in the overhead light. He had a tattoo on the side of his neck and it disappeared underneath the collar of his black shirt.

At first I thought it to be the shadowsinger but it wasn’t him. His hair was too light. The more I looked, the more I realized that he looked a little out of place. He had darker skin than either of our Illyrians, and he didn’t have wings. For just a second he turned his head and I caught a glimpse of a scar on his face. Above his left brow and below his eye.

He was very pleasant to look at.

“I will be back, I need to break up some ice in the back,” the bartender spoke generally to the crowd. In a second he was out of sight and out of mind. I could not stop looking at this male.

The curls in his hair looked soft and fluffy and I really wanted to run my fingers through them. Though he was shorter than the general, he was at least a head taller than me, if not a half more than that. Whoever he was…

That couldn’t be the shadowsinger, could it? From all that I’ve heard of the illusive male this did not match any of the descriptions. He was just as tall– if not taller– as Azriel, but the hair… It was too light. And now wings. No shadows. Our High Lord can summon his wings, maybe the others can as well? Plus, I’ve heard that the scars the shadowsinger has on his hands are rather brutal. This male didn’t have any scars on his hands that I could see.

The air around me cooled and I shivered, wishing I had brought my jacket with me. It was like a door just opened and a draft seeped in around me. Up my legs and around my ankles.

To not appear creepy I looked elsewhere, not finding any of the other males in the room as interesting as the one with the brown fluffy hair. There was a couple sitting in a booth across the room, very clearly struggling to keep their affection tame. Another was dancing together and I became painfully aware of just how awful my dating life had been.

I threw back the rest of my drink, just as the bartender returned and ordered a few shots of something stronger. Much stronger by the smell of it. The warmth of it spread through my arms and fingers and the room seemed to get a little rowdier.

“Before I pour another, milady, I would just like to ask if you have a safe way to get home,” he asked kindly.

I smiled at the tenderness in his voice. “Yes, I live right down the way in the set of townhouses by the Sidra. Two minute walk.”

“Excellent.” Another shot was placed in front of me.

I kept sneaking glances at our High Lord and Lady. They looked so magnificent. Like a true emperor and empress. And they looked so happy to be together. Not with just themselves but with the general and whoever this other male was. Perhaps someone from Illyria?

Again, the whole no wings thing was throwing me off.

Wait, where did he-

“Excuse me,” a deep, rough voice said from beside me. My eyes met the most beautiful set of eyes I’ve ever seen. A dark, almost black color with flecks of amber and gold. It was the male I had been gawking at for the past half hour. He had an accent like I’ve never heard before. “I am Xaden.”

I stared at his extended hand for a moment before shaking it. “Yn.”

“Yn,” he practically purred. “A very beautiful name.”

It was hard not to blush. “I don’t mean to sound rude but are you-”

“Hey, there you are. We were just about to start another game did you…” The Spy Master of the Night Court stopped right beside him. His hazel eyes locked with mine and my stare darted between the two. The two very attractive, tall, muscular males in front of me. “Hello there.”

“This is Yn,” Xaden introduced me. “I was just about to ask if I could buy her a drink but I think you had a question for me?”

All thoughts leave my brain. Just above the shadowsingers shoulders lay his wings, and curling around them were those infamous shadows. The most lethal male on the continent stood two feet from me. And he was looking at me like… I didn’t let myself finish that thought.

I cleared my throat, “I was going to ask where you’re visiting from. You have a very… foreign accent.”

Xaden smiled a little and I thought I’d collapse on the ground. “I come from Navarre. A place far from here.”

“I’ve never heard of Navarre,” I said truthfully. But if males like him came from there then maybe I need to visit.

“It’s not entirely accessible,” he folded his arms across his chest. His very muscular and sculpted chest. “I am just visiting a friend.”

I looked at Azriel, who, much to my surprise, hadn’t taken his eyes off me. I shifted in my seat. “You two are friends?”

“Only recently,” Azriel spoke and I felt his voice crawl down my spine. “Xaden here is the closest thing to me that his puny world has to offer.”

“Puny?” Xaden’s eyes went wild. “Take away your wings and siphons and see how well you do as Basgiath. I doubt you’d last five minutes on Sgaeyl in a basic flight maneuver.”

“Basgiath? S-Sgaeyl?” The names were so weird in my mouth.

“Basgiath is the name of our War College. And Sgaeyl is my dragon.”

His what?

“Riroson here thinks that I couldn’t mount and ride a dragon. I’d like to see you take on the Bogge or a Naga with those tiny daggers of yours,” Azriel broke his gaze away from mine to take a sip of whatever was in his glass. “Pathetic.”

“You have a dragon?” I most certainly didn’t hear him correctly. “But they’re-”

“Not where I’m from, they’re not. See, we don’t have magic like you do here in Prythian. Back home, we have to study, bond with a dragon, and then we get the ability to channel their power. Mine just so happens to be shadow-wielding. Apparently this one could feel it across our world and tracked me down. He’s been teaching me for a few years now.”

“And somehow you still can’t manage to winnow,” Azriel rolled his eyes playfully.

“Some of us haven’t had centuries of practice, asshole,” Xaden retorted. If I had known anything about Azriel, I fully expected him to flatten out this Xaden guy.

“You’re not Fae?”

“No offense, but who would want to live forever?” He shrugged. A valid response. It was only then that I saw the roundness of his mortal ears.

Azriel grumbled a curse. “I apologize for him. He is cranky after his long flight here. I’m Azriel, I’m not sure I introduced myself.”

“I know,” I forced myself to look anywhere but his gorgeous face. Easily the most attractive Fae I’ve ever seen.

“Are you here with anyone? I saw you walk in about an hour ago and haven’t seen you talk with anyone,” he asked. He saw me walk in? “If my night had gone any better than yes, I would be here with someone. But, instead, he had other plans and never showed up for our reservation.”

Both of the males stood completely silent. I watched Azriel’s eyes narrow, his jaw clench. “Who was it?”

“It doesn’t matter.” I could feel that bubble of emotion rise up in my throat, pricking my nose and eyes. “He’s just some nobody I was seeing. His loss.”

“Biggest fucking mistake he’ll ever make,” Xaden scooted in closer, leaning his forearms on the counter. “What were you drinking? Next one's on me.”

“Oh, that’s kind of you but I would like to wake up in the morning without any regrets. A water will do,” I smiled sweetly at him and he returned it without a second thought.

I felt Azriel move closer to me and I could just barely see him in my peripheral vision. I tried not to look. It was so hard. All I wanted to do was look at him. Then he was closer. A lot closer. His arm across the back of the stool I was sitting in.

Oh gods his scent.

“For you,” Xaden slipped a cool glass of water in my hands. “To you, Yn.”

I blushed as I knocked my glass with theirs.

“Not to impose, but I would like to know more about this asshole who stood you up tonight. Because clearly he’s not right in the head for leaving you. Especially when you look so good.”

I couldn’t help the flush that spread down my neck and up my ears. “I don’t know, we met over the weekend and he asked if we could go on a date. I said yes. And I think what makes it even worse is that I was looking forward to it. I was excited to get all dressed up and go out for the first time in months. Now I just feel like a fucking idiot for getting my hopes up and wanting to-”

“Hey.” Xaden’s finger pulled my chin to look up at him. “You are not the problem. That mother fucker has another thing coming if he thinks he could’ve ever given you what you need.”

I’d like to focus on the latter part of that statement, but all I could think of was his face– inches from mine– and his other hand at my knee. My heart thrashed and I was so still I wasn’t sure if I was breathing or not.

“I think you’re scaring her, Riorson,” Azriel said from behind me. Then I became aware of just how close he was to me. He practically spoke right against my neck. A hand brushed at my right shoulder and I shuddered.

“If you’re willing, we’re offering.” Xaden has this gleam in his eye and a smirk on his lips.

I had to sit up a little so I could start seeing clearly. “I-I’m sorry ‘we’re’?”

“You don’t have to say yes,” Xaden grinned. “But, if you’d like to erase this guy from your thoughts, all you have to do is show me where it hurts. I promise I can make it all better.”

Is he asking what I think he is? I looked at Azriel who had the same look Xaden did. Full of mischief.

“You… You can’t be serious.” They were playing games with me. They have to be. There’s no way that our Court Spy Master and whoever this guy was from Navarre were willing to share.

“Az?” Is all Xaden said.

Fingers brushed my hair over my shoulder and tucked it out of the way. I gasped when Azriel kissed down my neck. I think I’m shaking, though it could just be my pulse beating so wildly through my veins that it feels like I’m shaking. But I definitely can't feel my fingers anymore.

Xaden stepped in a little closer and blocked most of my view of the rest of the bar. “May I?” He held out a hand. I swallowed and nodded as best as I could with Azriel gently nipping at my throat. Xaden quickly placed his mouth on mine.

I got lost in him. In both of them. All the bells and whistles in my body were going off at once. I’ve never done anything like this before. I had two of the most attractive looking individuals in the world right here. Both kissing me.

In a few seconds Xaden pulled from my mouth and Azriel went with him. I was suddenly so cold and needed them back exactly where they were. My thighs clenched together.

“What do you say, want to take out all your anger, your frustration and disappointment, on us?” Xaden asked softly, right into my ear. The way he pulled it between his lips made it very difficult to say no. Not that I wanted to in the first place. I’d be a fool to say no.

I nodded eagerly.

Azriel clicked his tongue and made me look at him. “Need you to say it, Yn.”

“Yes,” I said without a second thought. “Yes.”

Both of them chuckled. “Let’s get out of here.”

As we made our way down the street, both of the males on either side of me, I was burning with desire; every so often– about every three or four steps– one of them would have to pause, spin me around, and kiss me until I saw stars. They ‘just couldn’t help it’.

Not that I minded.

“Apologies if the place is a mess,” Azriel said, unlocking a door. It looked vaguely familiar, and when I looked up and across the street, I realized why.

“Hey, that’s my place right there,” I smiled, looking at the small rose bushes lining my little walkway.

“Would you rather go there instead? No pressure if you do,” Xaden’s hands went down my sides and hips as he spoke.

I nearly collapsed onto the floor. “No, no this is fine I don’t think I can wait.” “Impatient, are we?” Xaden murmured into my hair.

“Well,” I blew out a breath as he nipped at my ear. “I’m not exactly dreading being taken to be by two males.”

“Hopefully we won’t ruin you for any other lovers.”

Was it bad that I hoped they would?

The door gave away and it was flooded with Azriel’s scent. A mixture of Xaden’s too, but it was hard to differentiate them. His was far more subtle than the shadowsingers. They guided me inside, lights coming on along the halls and overhead.

“Have you ever…” Xaden trailed off and I flushed a deep red.

“No, I’ve never done this before.” My laugh was a pathetic attempt to hide my nerves.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of you,” Xaden grinned and gave my mouth what it wanted most. His tongue was hot against mine and I pressed as close to him as I could get. For a moment I couldn’t see or hear anything, and then we were in a bedroom that seemed far too massive for this little townhouse.

I looked around; a massive bed was standing right before me, dark curtains over a door that led to a balcony.

“Did we just-”

“Winnowing,” Azriel explained, pulling me out of Xadens arms and into his own. “This is far easier when we have room. Like Xaden said, we’re gonna take care of you. Any time you feel uncomfortable just tell us to stop and we will. We do this at your pace, you control it.”

Weirdly enough, my heart ached at the tenderness in his voice. But my body did not want to be in control. It wanted everything but. “And what if I said that I didn’t want to make any decisions. That I just wanted to feel and nothing else.”

I saw Azriel look up first, then felt Xaden press against my backside. I was squished between them and I thanked the Mother that I never went on that date tonight. But they looked at each other.

Azriel grinned. “You’re sure?”

“Absolutely. I need it.”

“Aww, you’re that desperate already?” Xaden pulled me into his body, one hand gripping my face to make me look at him, the other wrapped around my stomach. “We haven’t even touched you yet, pretty thing. Haven’t even tasted you.”

“What are you waiting for?” I have no idea where this boldness is coming from.

Xaden stepped away from me and laid at the top of the bed. “Come here, then.”

No turning back now.

I crawled to him on my hands and knees. The dress I was wearing did nothing to hide my ass any longer. Xadens hand reached out, and when I was close enough, he grabbed me by my throat and pulled me into his lap. Pulled my mouth on his. I let out a very pathetic noise.

His other hand made me sit right on his cock and I could feel everything that was waiting for me. I moved my hips in a circle and he let out a breath, his dark, almost gold flecked eyes looking at me with hunger.

The bed dipped and Azriel pulled my hair back so I looked up at him. “You don’t have to be ashamed if you want to scream our names while we fuck away the pain, Yn.”

I nodded, wanting to twist so I could kiss him but Xaden firmly planted my hips to his. “I didn’t tell you to stop moving, pretty thing.”

I obeyed him. It was such an odd angle; to have my head thrown all the way back but my hips moving. It made it hard to breathe.

“I think she’s getting impatient, Riorson,” Azriel said as if I wasn't even there.

“Yeah I can feel how wet she is.” Xaden curiously slipped a hand between my legs, a few fingers trailing the crease of my thigh. “You really are impatient, aren’t you?”

“Please…”

“Please what?” Azriel pulled my hair harder. “Come on, use your words, Yn. Don’t be shy.”

I whimpered. “Please touch me, Xaden.”

“How can I resist when you ask so nicely.”

Azriel released his grip and Xaden lifted up my hips, pulling down my thong. His fingers were cold against my pussy. I shivered. His fingers were so long. It took everything in me to not fuck myself on them. The shadowsinger remained behind me and slipped the thin straps of my dress off my shoulders.

“Arms up.” Azriel commanded. The dress was lifted off my body and I felt very exposed. But soon enough he was against me, his hard chest against my back. “Kiss him.”

I burned red at the tone of his voice. But I kissed Xaden with enough force to make him bite my lip, catching my tongue between his teeth next. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my chest to his. I jolted as he brushed my clit and he let out a dark chuckle, doing it again and again.

“So easy,” Xaden muttered, pushing me on my back effortlessly. I watched as he stuck his two fingers in his mouth. “Fuck do you taste good, pretty thing.”

His massive hands spread my thighs apart after he threw my underwear somewhere in the room. Those brown curls felt just as soft as I imagined. I didn’t care if I was being desperate, I needed his mouth between my legs. The first pass of his tongue made me go limp. I let my head fall back, my knees parting even further.

My body welcomed him as he explored, tongue flicking, hands bruising my skin. Fingers brushed my chest, so faintly I thought I might’ve imagined it. Azriel had gone somewhere, but I was too focused on Xaden to care at this moment. When I looked down, those were not fingers playing with me, but rather tendrils of shadow circling around.

“What the-”

“Shhh, it’s okay, you’re okay Yn,” Azriel said from my right, standing further in the room. He was undressing, the fighting leathers he had been wearing folded neatly on a desk. His wings were... dear gods his wings were massive. “It’s just me. Nothing to be afraid of.”

Pleasure and fear coursed through me at the same time. My brain and body were on fire with emotions as I watched them drift and encase my body. They were cool to the touch, a stark contrast to the boiling temperature of my skin. As I watched, I settled. It was quite fascinating.

A sharp smack to the inside of my thigh had me looking at Xaden. “Focus on me.”

I nodded and I became aware of just how close I was to my release. I panted and writhed, itching for something to grab onto. Something to touch and yank-

My hands were above my head two seconds later and I was dragged to the edge of the bed.

“Hey,” Xaden shouted and another wave of fear crashed through me. “I was in the middle of something.”

“Well, it’s my turn, Riorson,” Azriel gritted his teeth, taking himself in his hand. “You can still have her legs for now. But I need to feel her mouth.”

Were they fighting for me? For my body? I smiled. So wide it hurt. I obediently opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue, enticing him further. In tandem, I spread my legs as wide as they could go for Xaden.

“You’re so well trained, pet.” Azriel wasted no time forcing his cock down my throat. I couldn’t breathe, but that’s how I wanted it. He thrusted in slowly, stopping when he was all the way, then pulled back out. “You take my cock so well, Yn. I’m so proud of you.”

“If you think her mouth feels good, wait till you get inside her pussy. She’s so warm and tight.”

I moaned around Azriel, knees fluttering off the bed as Xaden sucked my clit. The shadows continued to writhe around my nipples and I felt so exposed. I couldn’t keep still. My legs trembled and I felt that coil in my stomach clenching and clenching. I wanted Xaden’s cock between my legs more than his tongue, but I couldn’t tell him that with Azriel down my throat.

“Do you think she can take both of us?” Azriel asked, brushing a hand across my cheek, then it gently wrapped around my neck. I choked hard enough for tears to streak down my face.

“Hmm,” Xaden hummed around me and I thrashed. “Well, that was adorable. As for fitting both of us? It’s possible. Probably gonna hurt. Don’t worry, he’ll work you open on his cock so good you won’t have a choice but to take both of us.”

“We don’t want to hurt her, Riorson,” Azriel cupped my cheeks. “Unless you want us to, pet?”

I nodded immediately. He pulled out and I heaved for fresh air, eyes glossy as I looked up at him. “Don’t be gentle.”

The way Azriels’ eyes darkened should have made me afraid. Instead it filled me with a primal desire. The force of his hips was brutal. The slight salty taste of his skin was intoxicating. I gagged around him with every press of his tip at the back of my throat, tears burning down my face.

Without any resemblance of a warning, my release barreled through me and I shook, legs kicking out as Xaden continued to tongue fuck me until I saw stars. He kept going. He didn’t stop.

I tried to get him to ease, to let up but my hands were bound at my sides. That same cool feeling sliding around my wrists as it did my chest. It was so much. Already too much.

“Alright, she’s had enough,” Xaden finally pulled away from my throbbing cunt, caressing my thigh and the bruises there. His chin glistened with my cum, and he didn’t let any of it go to waste as his tongue dragged over his lips.

“I’ll tell you when she’s had enough. Get back up on the bed. Strip.” With a more than heavy shove, Azriel sheathed himself inside me one last time, held just long enough to make me panic for a breath. “Good girl, Yn.”

I hiccuped a small sob, already teetering on my breaking point. Azriel sat me up and pushed me down on my hands and knees. In front of me was Xaden. His very hard cock straining up. The shadowsinger’s hand fisted in my hair and I was forced to take his cock down.

“Stay right there, pet. Don’t move. You came without permission. Since you decided to be so greedy, you’re gonna get Xaden off while I punish you.” A merciless hand smacked my ass hard enough to make an outline of his hand. “Got it?”

I nodded around Xaden’s cock and yelped when another smack came down. Xaden groaned, his sculpted abdominal and chest flexing. One arm was behind his head, the other on my head. He was far more gentle than Azriel was, but I could see his control slipping as he thrusted up in time with Azriel’s hand on my ass.

“Fuck she feels good, Az,” Xaden praised, cupping my cheek. “And you look so pretty full of my cock. Gods I can’t wait to be in that pussy.”

I squeaked out an embarrassing noise when Azriel dragged his cock through my cunt, coating himself in my release. Just the tip of him had me stretching and I had to squeeze my eyes shut to block out the sting. With a snap of his hips, he slid in deeper and deeper and deeper-

“That’s it, pet. Take all of my cock. Good girl, Yn. Good girl.” His cooing made it impossible not to cry out around Xaden. As Azriel pulled back, slowly, he grabbed my hips and took me with him. I scrambled to try and keep Xaden’s cock in my mouth, but I was too far away now.

“Look at how desperate she is for you, Riorson. She wants your cock soooo badly she’s fighting me for it.” Azriel ran his nails down my spine. “How about we play a little game, pet. When I pull out of you, you have to keep your mouth on him or else you get a smack. How does that sound?”

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Xaden. He had a flush to his cheeks. The same primal hunger I had in my eyes. There wasn’t anything I wanted more than to have him come down my throat. A sharp crack rang through the room and I screamed.

“I want an answer. Now.” Azriel demanded, yanking me up and forcing me down on his thick cock.

“Yes yes yes,” I babbled. “Please let me make Xaden feel good.”

“You’re so pretty when you beg like that,” Xaden mumbled, dragging me back down to him by my wrist. I wrapped my lips around him and worked up and down. He was just as big as Azriel. But the shadowsinger was bigger.

Azriel’s hands on my hips hurt almost as much as the hand that smacked me. I’m sure it was bright red and swollen. Every time he thrusts into me, he forces my body back into him. A few times I was pulled off of Xaden and I got punished. New tears running down my face after every one.

“F-Fuck Az stop doing that,” Xaden growled out. “I barely have her for two seconds before you’re ripping her away again.” His two hands gripped the sides of my head, forcing me all the way to his pelvic bone. “Now stop holding back and fuck her like you mean it.”

“Think she can handle that?”

“Of course she can, look at her. Split open wide on our cocks, taking them like she’s been doing it for years. She’ll be fine, won’t you, pretty thing?” I nodded, blinking up at him. “See, she wants it. Such a good fuck toy. Such a good pet.”

“If you can’t, say so now, Yn,” Azriel gripped at my hips to pull Xaden's dick out of my throat. “Well?”

“D-Don’t… don’t hold back.” Gods my voice was raw. “Please don’t hold back. I need it.”

“See? Now go, I’ve been on the edge for the past ten minutes,” Xaden said rather impatiently.

I could not have prepared myself for the force of Azriel’s thrusts. Or the grip Xaden had on my head. I thought my neck was going to rip from my shoulders with how hard I was being pulled in opposite directions. I only got a breath every two or three drives of Azriel’s cock.

Both of them were a whimpering mess. Xaden especially. I prayed to the Mother that these walls were thick enough so no one would hear us.

Minutes ticked by and I became a limp mess. A mere boneless thing for Azriel and Xaden to play with. My arms were trembling beyond use and my legs and toes were numb with euphoria. I couldn’t keep myself up any more.

“Fuck, Yn,” Xaden panted, hips bumping into my nose every time he snapped his hips. “Gonna come.” I just let all my weight fall onto him, letting him go deeper and deeper down my throat. “You’re such a good girl, Yn. Such a good fucking girl.”

Azriel shoved his cock as far as it would go, forcing me to take all of Xaden’s cum down my throat in one go. I didn’t even get to taste it. Xaden fucked into my mouth, hands firm on my head as he continued to spill. I dared a glance up and I saw shadows, slightly different than Azriel’s, caressing his shoulders.

How the hell did I get so lucky?

I was pulled off of Xaden and I was completely limp. “What do you say to Xaden, pet?”

“Thank you,” I stuttered out as Az continued to fuck me.

“Good girl. Now clean him up so he can take my place.” On my own accord, I picked my heavy head up and lapped at his cock, gently cleaning him with tiny flicks of my tongue. Up and down and up and down. He tasted so good. Salty and tangy. “Still got more, Riorson? I forget you humans can’t reset as quickly as we can.”

“I have stamina that’ll put you to shame, Illyrian.” Xaden had a devilish grin on his lips. “My turn.”

Xaden’s hands wrapped under my arms, guiding me off of Azriel. I tried to get my legs to move, but it was a useless effort. I could barely think let alone tell my body what to do.

“Easy, Riorson. I know you’re eager. And trust me, you should be. Fuck is she tight.”

Xaden let out a teasing noise, pumping a few times to get himself hard again. “Aww I bet she is. Gonna take my cock next, pretty thing? Yeah you are, and you’re gonna take Azriel's, too. Come on, sink down and- yes just like that, yes Yn. Good girl.”

Riding him made this so much easier. He was far stronger than I was and helped me rock back and forth. It was wonderful stimulation for my clit, too. For a few minutes he bounced me up and down, filthy praises spilling out of him like it was his job.

“I told you,” Azriel’s voice was right up against the back of my neck. “Worth the wait.”

“What if I told you I didn’t want to share her anymore?” Xaden sucked on my nipple and rubbed my clit at the same time.

“Too late for that, Riorson. She’s all ours, aren’t you?” I felt the press of Azriel’s cock against my hole and jumped. “Relax. It’ll hurt if you don’t.”

I nodded, getting lost between the two sets of hands–the two sets of lips and tongues and teeth. I was one with the stars, completely suspended in a place I didn’t know but I sure as hell didn’t want to leave any time soon. I tried to remain still as Az slowly–very slowly– pushed in bit by bit. I was reduced to nothing but mumbling noises and begging whines.

“Should’ve asked Cass if he wanted to join us so she could have something to do with that mouth of hers,” Xaden blew out a breath. “Need something to suck on, pretty thing?”

I just nodded, too overstimulated to speak. I just needed. I don’t know what I needed but I needed it.

“Gods you really are such a good pet,” Az pulled my head back. With a firm grip on my jaw, it fell open and he spat in my mouth. The shock of it damn near pushed me over the edge. My eyes crossed and my vision blurred as he stuck his fingers in my mouth for me to suck.

It took several minutes but then I was balancing between both their cocks, vibrating with energy and a need so deep I knew the second they would move I’d come. And I’d keep spasming around them as they did as they pleased.

Hands expanded every inch of my body. “Ready?”

“Mhmm,” was the best response I could get out. Xaden pulled me towards him, then slowly pushed me back onto Azriel. Then Az slowly pushed me onto Xaden. I was weightless in their hands, practically being held up by them alone.

“You are doing such a good job, my pet,” Azriel pulled out his fingers, gripping my throat. “So tight and wet. That’s it, just relax. Let us take you, Yn.”

“She’s being so good, don’t you think she deserves a reward, Az?” Xaden plucked both of my breasts.

“Of course she does.”

My ears were ringing. Sweat soaked my hairline. I could feel Xadne and Azriel’s pulse against my own, and I swore I could’ve felt them all sync up for a beat or two or five. Endless shadows swirled across my skin, hands fighting for leverage on my hips. I knew I’d be marked and bruised in the morning.

“I got her here, you take care of her down there,” Azriel instructed. Both of his hands cupped my chest, pinching brutally. Xaden snaked his hand between our fronts and just barely grazed my clit before I was coming so hard my vision blacked out.

I screamed, throat burning with pain as I writhed and begged for nothing and everything. I cried out over and over as they continued to push me. Lips and tongue slid over my throat, Xaden’s forcing its way into my mouth to swallow my screams.

Azriel bit down on my shoulder and snapped his hips a few times, trying and failing to suppress his moans. It came from deep in his chest and it rumbled through me. “Gonna take my cum, pet?”

I couldn’t respond. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get words to form.

“Give it to her, Az. She needs it,” Xaden said for me. “Don’t worry, pretty thing, Az is gonna give it to you. Just be patient.”

His hips worked into me, fucking me onto Xaden. With one hand wrapped around my throat, the other on my side, Azriel came inside me, the thick, bitter scent sending my mind spiraling. His thrusts didn’t stop, even as Xaden warned him he was close.

Azriel stilled then, panting hot against the back of my neck. “You’re clenching so hard, pet. Such a good job at keeping it all inside you. Now do the same for Xaden. Let him fill you up, Yn.”

Xaden was far less controlled, those shadows over his shoulders whipping wildly as he fucked up into me hard enough to touch places he hadn’t yet. With a handful of movements, Xaden brought our hips flush together and he strained his neck, baring his teeth into the air.

His noises would’ve been enough to set me off again had I not been so previously spent.

It could’ve been hours that I laid between them, their cocks still buried inside me as they stroked my skin, stroked my hair and kissed me lazily.

______

“Yn.” A gentle press of lips to mine. My eyes fluttered open and Xaden’s face became clearer. “There she is.”

“She awake?”

“Mhmm,” Xaden kissed my forehead. “Feeling better?”

I wiggled my toes to see if the feeling had come back. I just nodded, snuggling in deeper to his chest. “Yeah.”

“Good good,” he wrapped his arms tighter around me. “You were so good for us, Yn.”

“The best,” Azriel seconded, and a warm body pressed up behind me. “You were pretty out of it for about an hour. We cleaned you up as best we could with you mumbling about how much you loved to please us.”

I flushed in embarrassment, putting my hands over my face. “Cauldron damn me.”

“It was quite adorable,” Xaden murmured, prying my hands from my face. “And you were incredible.”

“So fucking incredibly,” Azriel agreed, tucking in close behind me. I carefully flipped over, looking at the shadowsinger. “You did such a good job.”

“It was easy when I had you two doing all the work for me,” I smiled, leaning up to kiss him. “Still cannot believe I just did that.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Absolutely not.” I squashed down that possibility the second their hands had been on me. “It was perfect.”

“Don’t feel pressured to answer, but Xaden visits every so often to Prythian. When he comes back, how do you feel about doing this again?” Azriel asked cautiously. “If you would like some time to think about it then-”

“Yes.” Why would I ever say no to being worshiped? “Absolutely yes.”

Both of them chuckled, Xaden molding his body to fit mine, arm laying across my stomach. “Told you we might ruin you for anyone else.”

#azriel #acotar fanfiction #acotar #acotar fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x reader x xaden riorson #xaden x reader #xaden riorson #fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing #fourth wing smut #acotar smut #fourth wing fanfiction

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florencemtrash · 5 months

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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter One

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warning: Mentions of death and violence

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Layers of gosammer fabric rippled with movement as you smoothed the bodice of your dress. Warm sunlight flooded through the stained glass windows, getting trapped in the sheer material until you glowed shades of yellow and blue. You tugged the sleeves over your hands and took a deep breath.

It was a great honor to be invited to the Sun Palace, and for the Summer Solstice no less. The other Librarians of the 12th sector athenaeum - lovingly nicknamed The Alcove - had been absolutely astounded when the letter came addressed to you, hand delivered by pegasus. It was an honor. It was a great honor. You knew this. But your heart buzzed uncomfortably within your ribs like a bird desperate to take to the skies.

“Do I really frighten you that much?”

You swiveled your head to the side, finally acknowledging your High Lord after minutes of silence. Helion shot you a smile full of light and warmth. Light and warmth. Everything about Helion screamed it - from the sunburst crown on his head to the glow of his brown skin. He may as well have been carved from burnt amber. Helion’s very presence was enough to melt the hearts and open the legs of any fae - male or female. Even now you saw some of the female courtiers shooting you envious looks full of heat and longing. It made you cringe uncomfortably.

You shook your head, feeling the weight of the pearls woven into your hair settle at the base of your neck.

“No.” You said quickly, “I apologize, High Lord. It’s not you. I just… haven’t been around this many people before.”

“You take after your mother,” Helion said, that bright smile slipping into something fonder, more full of regret, “She was never one for parties either.”

You’d taken after your mother in just about everything - your eyes, your hair, the way you walked, even the way you took your coffee. Maybe if your mother had allowed you to be around Helion earlier on you would have learned his charm, absorbed his charisma like a sponge. As it was, the only thing you’d inherited from Helion was a stubborn power you couldn’t control.

You clasped your hands together behind your back, as if that would be enough to hide your talent. With the ability to absorb knowledge and memories through touch, Clairvoyants were incredibly rare and highly sought after in the Day Court. Helion had worked hard to conceal your power and your identity, so when you’d been given first pick of athenaeums following your apprenticeship, it was to no one’s surprise you’d chosen the one furthest from the city.

The Alcove. Your home. How you wished you were there now, nestled away in your attic apartment above the library. Comfortable. Alone.

Helion’s gaze softened as he regarded you. He shouldn’t have been as much of a stranger to you as he was. But he was no stranger to your work - always methodical, always precise, always handled with the same degree of love and attention that fae showed their children. You’d nearly died protecting The Alcove when Amarantha ransacked the Day Court libraries, smuggled books and knowledge across court lines during her reign.

Perhaps you had inherited some bold streak from Helion after all.

“How many times have I told you to call me Helion?”

“Six.” You said without hesitation.

“Of course you would remember such a thing,” He said, clicking his tongue, “Would you take a turn around the room with me?” He asked, extending a poor man’s olive branch, “I have guests I would like to introduce you to.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. You’d planned to remain glued to this pillar until nightfall, half hidden by the quartet that was beginning to rush the tune in time to the next song. The spirited piece was coming just in time for champagne drunk party goers to make their way to the dance floor.

You sighed, “Must I?” The performance of it all - the dress, the hair, the party, the pearls - was more than you were used to, something orchestrated by Helion to finally get you to leave The Alcove. He would have dragged you to more parties if you weren’t so stubborn about ignoring non-business related correspondences. Hence the pegasus.

“Your High Lord commands it.” Helion said smugly and moved his arm out to the side, gesturing for you to leave your little bubble of safety. “And you may very well come to thank me.”

You rolled your eyes, “Fine.” You waited a moment before saying, “Helion.” The casual name felt unfamiliar on my tongue.

He clapped his hands together, attracting the attention of one of the sons of Autumn. He shook his head of flames and scowled into his whiskey, handsome features twisting into something uglier.

“Finally!” Helion’s voice boomed, “Let’s enjoy ourselves.”

You chased after his long strides, hoping to stay within the radius of space fae gave to a High Lord. And it worked. For some time. You bounced between various pockets of fae, dodging servers with platters of cheeses, wine, pastries, and more balanced on shoulders. Helion’s deep voice reverberated off the walls as he laughed and clapped people on their shoulders, whispered in their ears, and threw casual, flirtatious winks. He shielded you from the vipers and introduced you to his friends as a talented researcher instead of his bastard daughter. But despite your best efforts, someone still touched you, and your power reared its ugly head.

It happened when one of the Summer Court delegates, drunk and giggling, crashed into a female in a flurry of teal silk, who - like a domino - fell onto you. You landed on your knees, palms stinging from broken glass as flashes of memory and knowledge raced through your mind.

A diagram of the Day Court cities taken in secret from the 29th sector cartography athenaeum. A page ripped from one of Helion’s private collection tomes. A sketch of a still, black lake, and the being of death and destruction that resided there.

Koschei.

The name spilled onto your mind like ink in water, followed by horrible memories of slaughter and violence. Enough blood to turn the lake red.

The flood of information dulled and the female became nothing more than a willowy tower of tulle with ivory hair retreating into the crowds.

You gasped for breath, limbs shaking.

The air. It was too thin here. Too suffocating.

Koschei

“Are you alright?” A male asked. His deep, careful voice felt like the calm before a hurricane.

You jerked back from the scarred hands that reached for you, wrapping your arms around yourself as you scrambled to your feet. A horrible rip sounded through the now quiet ballroom as you tripped on your dress and tore the bottom layers. And if it couldn’t become more embarrassing, when you stood up you came face to face with none other than the Spymaster of the Night Court.

Devastatingly beautiful - were the first thoughts that came to mind. So beautiful in fact that he shook you from your visions and the horrible power attached to the lake. The edges of him flickered in and out of existence, clouded by shadows that fluttered about like smoke above a flame. You flinched when they came closer to you before being wrenched back on some invisible leash. He was as gorgeous as the rumors claimed, every inch of him seemingly carved out of black obsidion.

The flash of shame that crossed his hazel eyes quickly faded into nothing and he clasped his hands behind his back, cursing Cassian for convincing him to go without gloves tonight.

“Y/n, are you alright?” Helion neared closer to you, pointing to your bloody hands. But the pain was nothing. You thought your heart might burst in your chest from the nerves. The more you thought about your splattered remains on the crisp marble tiles, the worse you felt.

The other members of the Night Court looked on with concern. You recognized the other Illyrian warrior - The Lord of Bloodshed he was called. His wings were partially extended, shielding you from the worst of the crowd. And the High Lord and High Lady needed no introduction, decked out in their slim-cut robes and dress. The silvery embroidery reminded you of the stars in the night sky you gazed at when you couldn’t fall asleep and the rest of the Day Court denizens had long since snuffed out their lights. There was a dangerous beauty that wrapped around the group as tightly as the Spymaster’s shadows clung to his body. And you’d just embarrassed the High Lord of the Day Court - your father - in front of them.

Azriel stepped back, reigning in his shadows despite their many desperate protests, “I apologize, I didn’t mean to-”

But you ignored his words, gathered up your skirts, and ran towards the palace gardens, leaving nothing behind but a thin trail of blood and silk, the scent of vanilla, and a brooding, heart-broken Shadowsinger.

Heavy air mingled with copious amounts of perfume, gave way to crisp clarity. The sun was just beginning to dip towards the horizon, like two lovers whispering in each other’s ears as you sprinted down the stairs past two drunk Peregryn soldiers half-hidden behind a rosebush. Their tawny feathers dipped in and out from behind the leaves like ocean waves.

A child’s doll half-buried in ash. The ring of electricity in the air and the metallic, buzzing stench of blood and rot in your nose. Suffocating. Suffocating.

It was terrible. Worse than any memory you’d slipped into before.

“Y/n!”

Koschei.

Everyone had experienced horror under Amarantha’s rule and during the war against Hybern. You’d been subjected to it too many times to count. Every brush of skin, every well-meaning touch from someone else had been a cruelty.

The lake. What’s buried beneath the lake?

So why did this knowledge feel so different?

Andrian. ANDRIAN!!!

“Y/n! Stop!” Hellion’s robes billowed out behind him like sun rays, dazzling brighter than gold.

What’s buried beneath the lake?

You didn’t realize you were murmuring the words until Helion gripped you by the shoulders and spun you around. You were brought back by more comforting knowledge - Helion’s memories. Memories of you as a babe, chubby legs wobbling beneath you as you took your first steps into your mother’s waiting arms. A flood of pride entering his chest that felt more like sadness than anything else.

“Y/n!” He shook you again.

He has a room made up for you in the Sun Palace. He hides all the birthday gifts there that he planned to give to you, but never did. You are one of his greatest regrets.

You blinked rapidly, clearing out your thoughts and shoving the High Lord back with all your might. You didn’t need this right now. You didn’t need two hundred years of fatherly guilt to catch up to you. To the both of you. Not tonight. Not ever.

Without another word you winnowed away.

__________

“I’m sorry about that,” Helion said, rolling his shoulders and rubbing his hands together.

He was grateful the party had returned to its previous rhythms in his absence, but Rhysand took note of the discomfort ladeled upon his shoulders, the hints of regret in his eyes. It was a feeling he was all too familiar with.

The sun continued to slip behind the peaks of the mountains, changing the temperature of the room as the ivory and gold-plated walls began to take on a warmer shade.

“Y/n is not used to such spaces.” He explained, “I should have done more to prepare her for tonight.”

Rhysand waved off the apology. “There’s no need for apologies, Helion.”

“I do hope she’s ok.” Feyre said. With a snap of Helion’s fingers the blood had been wiped from the floor along with the spilled wine and broken glass. “Her hands-”

Azriel stiffened, his arms suddenly hidden from view by the shadows that wound up his arms. Feyre quickly changed the topic. “This Y/n, is she the Librarian you’ve told us so much about?”

Helion’s smile was a prideful one, “The one and only.” He lowered his voice, careful to shield his words from any curious ears with a faint blanket of magic, “I would love to claim the credit for helping with your last pregnancy, but in truth it was all Y/n.”

Feyre blinked in surprise. Her second pregnancy - although much better than the first - had still been a struggle. Rhysand had reached out to Helion in desperation, hoping once again for a safer method of birthing their winged-daughter. After spending months on end combing through the deepest depths of the oldest Day Court libraries, she’d delivered to them a text on cesarean sections. The tradition was a human one, and had been considered too primitive for fae, but with Feyre’s success Madja was reevaluating its usefulness. The High Lord and High Lady had much to thank you for when it came to little Velaria.

Cassian raised his brows and Azriel couldn’t help the small smile that teased his lips. For such a timid bookworm you’d saved them a great deal of trouble. All at once that sense of pride for a female he didn’t even know fell away. You’d looked at him with such… fear. Flinched away from his touch like you knew exactly the kind of monster he was when all he’d wanted to do was help you.

“We’ll have to thank her personally then.” Rhysand said.

He raised Feyre’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her palm and looking at her like the love-sick male that he was. He still had nightmares about Nyx’s birth - how pale Feyre had become, the stench of blood in the air, and Nyx’s tiny, motionless body. He was ready to offer you a mountain of gold for preventing such a thing from happening again.

Azriel lowered his gaze, overwhelmed by the look that passed between the two mates. It felt like an intrusion to be standing in front of them. It was hard to see his brother and Feyre so openly affectionate with one another and not feel slivers of envy enter his heart. Cassian would have similarly been glued to Nesta’s side if she’d accepted the invitation, and although Mor was reluctant to venture out into the public world of courtiers with Emerie, she would have made it clear that she was taken. It meant that Azriel was often left to stand alone at events like this, gracefully rejecting the advances of males and females who hoped to lure the mysterious Shadowsinger into their beds. He’d been close to joining you in your solitude when Helion had charmed and whisked you away.

Azriel shifted his attention to the quartet, specifically to the little alcove to the left of the stage where he’d first noticed you. You’d stood there so quiet and observant, politely declining any male who offered you food or drinks or a dance. And there was no confusion as to why. You’d looked breathtaking in a pearly gown that clung to you like wisps of fog over the Illyrian mountaintops.

“After the party I’ll take you to her apartment. Allow you all to properly introduce yourselves.” Helion said in a burst of brilliance.

Cassian prodded Azriel’s ribs, a knowing look in his eyes as he watched the now visibly uncomfortable Shadowsinger.

But if Helion noticed, he didn’t care. If there was any collection of fae with the power to break you out of your shell, it was them.

“But until then! We dance! Come now Cassian, dance with me.”

Cassian snorted as Helion clasped a muscular arm around his shoulders and heaved him over to the dance floor where fae were already congregated in a tangle of limbs and wine. Feyre and Rhysand joined soon after, the High Lady throwing back an apologetic smile as she joined the crowd with her mate and Azriel was left to stand alone once again.

Next Chapter ->

______

Author's note:

I have too many thoughts and ideas and got sucked into writing this one. Also, I wanted a nice Azriel fic to follow up Flame, Shadow, Beast so... enjoy!

Love,

Florence B.

Taglist: @rosebunnysblog @icey--stars @laceandsuch @coralseacourt @cherryinsalemverse @flowerprincezz @valeridarkness @annaaaaa88 @deeshag @bluesiphonsbaby @allyjoe755

#azriel x reader #azriel x reader angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x y/n #azriel x day court reader #azriel x day court librarian #the shadowsinger and the inkbird #acotar fanfiction #acotar #the day court #helion acotar #helion spell cleaver

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azsazz · 7 months

Text

You Know My Desires

Kinktober Day 1: Azriel x Reader [Wingplay]

Summary: Azriel is a jealous male, and you know just how to calm him down.

Warnings: Smut, wingplay, jealousy, possessiveness, dom/sub dynamics.

Word Count: 2,892

Notes: Alrighty, let’s do this!

_________________________________________

He’s trapped.

Boots rooted to the unusually pristine floors of the Court of Nightmares ballroom. Body rigid and frozen, nearly vibrating with rage. His wings ache from being held taut, and his teeth are on the verge of cracking from how tightly set his jaw is.

If he moves, this entire sub-court will perish.

A patron indulging on the gluts of the party—rich, fae wine and hor d'oeuvres paired with teasing touches and lew moans—stumbles nearby, her steps faltering as she passes through the bubble of his anger. Azriel watches her from his peripherals as she locks up, shivering as if his shadows are raking their way down her spine. His hazel glare stays locked somewhere across the dance floor.

Right to where you’re dancing with him.

Not even the fire that had scorched his hands when he was young hurt as badly as watching this bastard twirl you around the ballroom.

Rasor’s grin is a wicked one. It’s twinged with secrets and chaos that Azriel doesn’t like; pale, gray eyes alight with mischief and lust. He hates the male leading you in this less than formal dance. Of course he does—he knows every single creature lurking at this unnecessary party. Rasor is a suck up, a male who gets off on trying to be like his High Lord, snarky and silver-tongued.

He is a failure at even that.

Azriel fantasizes about killing him for the way that his hands are on you. One, settled so low on your hip it’s nearly on your ass, the other clutching yours tightly as he guides you gracefully across the floor.

Everyone’s attention is on the two of you and it stings. If he knew anything other than hundreds of ways to torture a male for touching what is his, he might have asked you to dance. The shadowy corner of the room provides the darkness he requires to seethe like the fucking pathetic male he is.

You need to calm down, Rhysand says gently within his mind. Azriel desperately wants to roll his eyes at the High Lords warning, to cut a glare to where he’s lounging on his throne, but his mind doesn’t allow him to let his gaze stray from you for even a moment. Or everyone’s going to wonder why the ballroom is pitched in darkness. And I can only cover for so long.

Immediately, Azriel reels his shadows back. He watches the way your brows furrow and cast over Rasor’s shoulder when he pulls you against his chest in a move that makes even the fae fucking in the corner gape in awe. You’re seeking him out, wondering if he’s reigned his shadows back because he’s left.

No. He would never leave you.

I hate this, is all Azriel replies, but he means much more than that.

I need her for a bit longer, Rhysand says, and Azriel can feel that violet gaze on him, even if he’s shrouded in darkness. Do I need to have Cassian remove you?

Azriel wants to fight. He wants to launch himself across the ballroom and land a killing blow to your dance partner. No—he wants to paralyze the male and then take you to the floor and fuck you, claim you, mark you with his hands, his teeth, his cum, until every last patron knows who you belong to.

He takes a breath but it’s a struggle.

No.

But you laugh at something Rasor says and Azriel sees red.

His shadows consume him, moving him from his spot in the corner of the room to the middle of the dance floor.

A female shrieks at his sudden appearance but he doesn’t care, baring his teeth when her partner runs into his side. He’s behind you, catching you around the waist mid-twirl. Your dress is still the silky smooth it was when he caressed your thighs and had taken you before you left, his cum leaking down the insides of your thighs masked by the dark fabric. He had wanted to lap the mixture of both of your orgasms from your legs like the Godly ichor it was, but instead he’d asked you to let it dry, a warning to any male who’d try to make their move on what’s his.

Rasor either hadn’t taken the hint or he’d ignored it completely, a dangerous act, and one Azriel will kill over.

The shadowsinger swears he can feel the other male’s fingerprints on your hips, and he doesn’t like it.

Not. One. Bit.

Your gasp is soft as Azriel’s hands gently but possessively wrap around you. It makes his cock twitch in his leathers. The way that your hands find his, clutching them tightly as he moves you makes him preen on the inside, his face a solid mask of steel.

Rasor looks less than pleased to have his dancing partner taken from him. His eerie gray eyes flicker over to where the High Lord has sat up in his throne. Azriel doesn’t like that, fighting the urge to strike. Rhysand pounds on the solid walls of shadow in his mind but Azriel doesn’t answer the demand. He doesn’t care if he’s not invited to the next ball, he’ll kill Rasor before then so there’s no chance of him getting his hands on you again.

As badly as he wants to growl ‘mine’ to the still-staring male, Azriel allows his shadows to twine around the both of you in an intricate manner that has some of the patrons flushing. His pets put on an extravagant show as they twist and turn around you, swallowing you to take you from this plain to the next, and Azriel grins like a feral beast, meeting the eyes of the wretched male who had taken you from him tonight, before the darkness consumes you both.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

“What was that?” you ask, annoyance lacing your tone. You hadn’t finished your mission—hadn’t schmoozed Rasor enough to slip you the information your High Lord desired. No, Azriel had appeared—though you hadn’t been surprised, you could feel his anger writhing through the room like a beast stalking its prey—before he had stolen you away from the party, depositing you back in your shared chambers.

Azriel stares. His demeanor is calm, but his hazel eyes are brimming with fury. You cross your arms, looking right back. A challenge.

“You laughed at something he said.” It sounds silly now that he says it aloud, but it irks him, your eyes lighting and that sweet sound falling from your gorgeous lips because of another male. A more disgusting male. A more untrustworthy male.

“I didn’t mean to,” you reply, a touch softer. You tug on the bond tethering your souls together, but Azriel does not react.

“It was no accident.”

“You know my desires,” is your simple answer. And with it, you tug on the bond again, harder this time, watching how Azriel sways slightly towards you, the way that his throat bobs. A teasing smile threatens to stretch your lips, but instead you bite at your lip, a taunt. “Do you want me to show you?”

There is no waiting for his answer. You slide the shoulders of your dress off, heat pooling between your legs from his heated stare alone. Your nipples tighten as Azriel follows the movements of your manicured nails, the salacious way your body writhes as the buttery fabric slips down your body. Your eyes flutter shut and your lips part in a gasp as the dress slides across your sensitive breasts.

Azriel closes the distance in one step but your hand flies out, planting right over his pounding heart to stop him in his tracks.

“No,” you whisper as his brows pull tight. “I want to show you.” Punish him, you mean, for ruining your mission.

He grunts roughly, shaking his wings out to dispel some of the frenetic energy rushing through his veins. Your eyes catch on them, and it gives you an idea. Your heart beats with desire, right in time with your mates.

Stepping forward, you help him out of his leathers. Your movements are slow, a tease of your fingertips across his chest as you reach around him to undo the buttons of his shirt. Azriel growls low as you intentionally brush across the ridges of his wings, and his large hands come to plant themselves on your hips, steadying you so that you don’t touch them again.

You look up at him through lowered lashes, licking over your lips seductively. Your mate tracks the motion, and his arms tremble with the effort to keep his hands still instead of dipping down between your thighs where your arousal calls to him.

“Sorry,” you whisper against his lips, and when he closes the distance you pull away, kneeling in front of him.

Gods, do you look fucking delicious on your knees for him like that. Staring up at him with wide eyes and a sinful smile on your lips. You look like you're two seconds away from taking out his length to lick down his shaft and shove him down your throat, and he can’t wait.

He stays silent, patient as you lean forward to mouth at the fabric keeping his throbbing cock contained. Every breath is a shudder, and he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, empty by his sides. He wants to bury them into your hair and guide your head down his cock, but you’ve said that you want to touch him, and until you say otherwise, he will obey.

Azriel’s cock springs free as you pull the leathers from his legs. His glorious, thick thighs on display, packed deep with muscle. You’re soaked, and the urge to grind yourself against him hits full force. Azriel steps out of his trousers and you almost whimper at the sight of his cock pulling away from you, but you remind yourself that you have ulterior motives here.

Your mate helps you to your feet upon your request, and then you’re throwing your arms around his shoulders and kissing him deeply. Distracting him is what you’re doing. Azriel’s hands find your waist and hold you tight, lifting you into his arms with an ease that makes your heart skip. He’s thoroughly occupied with touching your exposed skin and dipping his tongue into your mouth, and then you strike, trailing your fingers across the tips of his wings again.

Instead of ripping his mouth from yours in irritation, Azriel presses further into you, tasting you deep with a noise that you take as approval. Again, you gently finger over the rugged skin of his wings, dipping lower as he raises them for you to touch.

They’re silky and soft, raised in places where they’d been wounded, but even the silvery scars make him shudder with pleasure. He bites your lower lip, grunting and bucking his hips into yours when you breeze over one of the more sensitive parts of him.

“Bed,” you gasp against his mouth, and he has no complaints.

You seem more than eager, tugging on him with both hands and bond, so Azriel lays himself on the bed, keeping you flush to his chest while he settles.

It’s perfect for what you want to do.

Azriel bucks but you pull your hips away from his. He groans your name, hands sliding down your sides to curl around your waist and tug you back into his body, but you’re not having it, no matter how much your body craves to be against his.

You chide, “I want to touch, Az, remember?”

He sighs in frustration. He loves when your hands are all over him, needy and desperate, stroking his cock and leaving marks across his chest, but right now, still annoyed with Rasor and Rhysand and the entirety of the Court of Nightmares, all Azriel wants to do is fill you with his seed until he owns you and you’re screaming his name.

You peck him on the mouth once, twice, pressing your chest flat against his. You shiver at the touch of your hardened nipples against the warmth of his body, but you keep your hips high, hovering above his cock. You can feel the heat it’s giving off, the throbbing uncomfortableness that’s shared down the bond with you, like you might take pity on him and sink down on it.

You won’t.

Instead, you spread his arms wide, tracing the dips and curves of his musculature until your fingers slip off and onto his wings, spread flat against the bed.

Azriel jumps. Your name is a low warning from his mouth but he doesn’t have the time to say anything else because you’re scratching lightly down the softness of his wings and his words break off into a breathy moan.

“Fuck, baby.”

And you know he likes it, no matter how much he warns you to stay away. You can feel the heat blooming in your own gut, mirror to his emotions that are drifting down the bond. It feels good, albeit dulled because you’re not him, but it makes your cunt wetter, dripping onto his cock below.

“You feel so good,” you murmur, kissing along his neck. It’s exposed from the way that his head is thrown back at the sensations wracking his body from your touch, and you take full advantage, marking him in the way that he wants to claim you.

“I’d feel even better inside of you,” he curses when you swirl your fingers around the base of his talons, followed by spreading your palms wide and dragging them across the velvety body of his wings again.

“We’ll get there, Az. Soon,” you respond, peeling your torso from his. His hands steel themselves to your hips. He’s afraid that you’re pulling away completely when actually, you’re leaning over one of his wings and brushing your mouth against it.

Your lips on his wings feel like your mouth on his cock—wet, warm, and sensitive. Your touch is gentle, a soft scrape of your nails against the thin skin has him pressing his head further into the pillows, biting through his lip to keep himself from cumming.

The taste of his blood only adds to his arousal.

His body shakes, hands planted so firmly on your hips as you hover above his aching cock that you know he’s leaving bruises. You don’t care, not because he ruined your assignment from the High Lord, but because he is yours just as much as you are his, and you were made to be marked by him.

“If I could make your cum stain my skin, I would,” you whisper against the flesh of his wing. You know he’s heard you because his hips buck higher, seeking out yours, and the debauched moan that slips from his mouth is a song to your soul. “So everyone knows that I am yours, Azriel.”

He cums with a noise that he’s not all too proud of, but his mind is muddled and he’s seeing stars. He spurts hot and white, coating the inside of your thighs and you quake when it splatters on your opening, legs nearly giving out from the feeling alone.

You work him through it, though it feels even more tortuous now, because his wings are sensitive. Your fingers trace pretty lines across the expanse of the leathery skin, tongue lapping across raised scars and dips that have never been touched, so sensitive that he chokes back a whimper, cock twitching, trying to rise again.

It’s as if you’re on top of the world, making your mate cum without touching his raging cock. It’s neglected, red at the tip and weeping still as you slowly retract your touch from his wings. His hands are slack against your waist but his body is taut, rock solid, and there’s a full body blush creeping from his chest and up his neck, embarrassed that he’s cum from your mouth on his wings alone, even if they are the most sensitive part of an Illyrian male.

But you’re beaming, gaze heavy and hot, aroused at the sight of him undone beneath you. Your cunt clenches with need. Your thighs are soaked and for a fleeting second you regret letting him cum because you need his cock filling you up right this very second or else.

Azriel senses it, as a good mate does. His fingers dig into your hips again before one releases you. He takes his cock in hand, giving it a few rough tugs before guiding you lower. Your head falls back on your shoulders at the feeling of his cum-coated cock nestled against your entrance. Your entire body shudders, but you force yourself to look at your mate, a questioning look in your eyes.

“I need you again,” his voice is rough, strained. Azriel’s cock is sensitive but it’s already filling up again at the touch of your cunt alone. It will be a bit painful until he’s fully erect again, but it won’t be long because you are the most beautiful female he’s ever seen, and your cunt is otherworldly. He’s going to keep you here all night, he decides, and he will take you until the both of you are cum drunk and unable to move. His hazel eyes grow a shade darker at the thought. “Now be a good girl and ride it.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Kinktober Taglist: @bunnymallowo

#azriel x reader #azriel smut #azriel wingplay #azsazz #azsazz kinktober 2023 #acotar #acomaf #acowar #azriel/reader

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assriels · 30 days

Text

here i go again

pairing: cassian x reader x azriel

summary: your half of the bond snaps and you’re faced with a choice.

word count: 4.7k

warnings: more of cass’s inner monologue speckled with az and reader’s thoughts as well, some brief mentions of sexual content!, angst angst angst

a/n: i truly was not planning on writing a part two but the love that everyone has shown me on the first part has inspired me :’) ty everyone for making my first fic posting so memorable; ALSO because i’m a sucker for happy endings, i will be writing an alternate ending for this story that is not as angsty i promise

(banners by @/cafekitsune!)

part one

When the bond first snapped, Cassian had initially tried to continue on as normal, engaging in his usual banter and friendly affection that your relationship ordinarily dictated. But as the days stretched into weeks and then months, he wasn’t sure he could keep a lid on his emotions for any longer.

Six months, normally a small blip of time in a near-immortal’s life, felt like an eternity. Six months of picking up the scraps of his broken heart was torture of the purest kind. Six months of clinging to every ounce of affection you offered him, playing it over and over in his mind to placate the urges the mating bond so desperately wanted satisfied.

Occasionally, he’d gently tug on that golden string tethering him to you, but he’d be met with an endless, empty void; the bond hadn’t snapped for you. And maybe it never would, Cassian caught himself thinking more times than he’d like. Maybe your love for Azriel was so powerful it overshadowed anything that the mating bond could offer you.

Azriel was your chosen mate and maybe no Cauldron-born matchmaking could override your unyielding loyalty and dedication to the male you spent the last twelve years loving.

Maybe Cassian was destined for loneliness in perpetuity, forced to watch his mate – the one person he loved more than life itself – live in immortality with someone who was not him.

The night of Starfall, Cassian had taken your advice and met Feyre’s friend, a beautiful high fae female who had become a regular at Feyre’s studio. They’d hit it off that night, and eventually spent the night tangled beneath the sheets of Cassian’s massive bed.

And while Cassian couldn’t deny the charming allure and beauty of this female, she wasn’t you. He wanted her, absolutely he did, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t slept with others in the past while his heart belonged truly to you. But it was like the mating bond had imprisoned his desire, reserving it for the one person who could satiate it.

He couldn’t even finish that night, and an ugly mix of humiliation, guilt, and disappointment swirled in his gut for the next few days, even as his one time lover graciously accepted his onslaught of apologies and assured him it was alright, that it happens, that she wasn’t offended. Through it all the bond was screaming at him.

Wrong, wrong, this was all wrong.

Cassian quickly disposed of the notion that he could just ignore the bond after that night. If sex and distraction were going to do nothing to keep his desperate need for you at bay, Cassian was forced to find alternative means for managing this newfound revelation.

And so, despite the brief moments of hope the snapping of the mating bond sparked in him, Cassian resolved to continue his journey of getting over you. Admittedly, though, it was becoming increasingly more difficult, as if the bond was becoming impatient and was spurring him to make bolder and bolder moves towards you.

But Cassian was nothing if not respectful and he couldn’t ever imagine telling you of the bond and forcing your hand to choose between him and his brother. So, he slowly titrated his daily dosage of you, gradually spending less time with and around you in an effort to relieve himself of the aching pain of his longing. He was mindful of his words and actions, not wanting to clue you in to the raging conflict between his mind and his heart; he disguised his purposeful avoidance of you with excuses that he had suddenly become overwhelmingly busy.

It was a tactic he knew wouldn’t last for long, but it might give him enough time to figure out what he should do next.

But ever the keen observer – having picked up a thing or two from spending so much time with the Spymaster of the Night Court – you noticed the change, however slight, in Cassian’s behavior. At first, you had fallen for his ploy; with newborn fatherhood forcing Rhys to be partially out of commission, it made sense that Azriel and Cassian had been busier than usual.

As Nyx grew, however, and both Feyre and Rhys were more adjusted to life with a child, Rhys had resumed his usual duties – but Cassian was still busy as ever.

It only took one passing comment from Azriel for you to begin perseverating on the idea that maybe Cassian was avoiding you. Az had confided in you once about Cassian’s constant denial of his invitations to spend some time together despite the arsenal of ideas that Azriel threw at him.

Drinks at Rita’s? No... A flight around Velaris? No. Lunch with Rhys? No. Training? No.

Azriel lamented that every conversation ended with Cassian hastily making an excuse to exit; it wasn’t like him, and it was beginning to get concerning.

So, you decided to test the theory yourself.

It was a lot more difficult getting Cassian alone than you thought it would be, which was strange in and of itself. Your past with him had lent itself to many occasions where you’d find yourself alone with Cassian on an errand, training, eating meals. But lately, it was like Cassian was a ghost, disappearing as soon as you had your sights on him, seemingly vanishing out of existence before you could even mutter a greeting. It seemed like everywhere you were, Cassian had pressing business elsewhere.

(Once you had walked into the kitchen, and Cassian had left in the middle of making himself a meal, mumbling something about Rhys needing his help, his half cut vegetables abandoned on the counter.)

You had every intention of cornering him with Azriel’s help, but before you could execute your sneaky plan to ambush him during training, you quite literally bumped into him on your way from the library to the dining room; clearly, he hadn’t anticipated that you’d interrupt your usual perusal of the House’s libraries to make yourself a snack.

Cassian fumbled for words, flustered and taken aback at the suddenness of your presence, still unused to the heightened feeling of his emotions around you.

You were about to interrupt his awkward stumbling, but a feeling so visceral, so outrageously all-consuming flooded every nerve in your body and you felt like you would collapse onto the floor. It was like the world had suddenly decided to start spinning in the other direction, scrambling your sensibilities, and the only thing tethering you to your reality was a thin golden string that led you directly to Cassian.

Cassian was your mate? And by the feel of it, the bond had already snapped for him who knows how long ago. Why did he not say anything? How long had he known? What the fuck?

The questions repeated themselves incessantly in your mind before you had the wherewithal to erect the strongest mental shields you could as you made flimsy excuses for why you needed to leave. Funny how, as soon as you had the opportunity to speak to Cassian alone, you were the one spinning white lies to explain your sudden departure.

If Cassian had felt your awareness on his side of the bond, he didn’t let on, only stared bemused after your retreating figure.

You wound through the maze of hallways in the House with such precision that you had to have set a record for how quickly you made your way from the dining room to Azriel’s study; you hadn’t even meant to go there, body habitually routing its way to your lover in moments of distress.

Azriel.

Your heart twisted painfully at the thought of him, and you contemplated not telling him or Cassian that you had felt a bond whip into place. But you knew that would be a disservice to all parties involved in this sadistic twist of events.

You would talk to Cassian, have a discussion, figure out what this meant for your friendship and his and Azriel’s brotherhood, but you needed to collect yourself and unscramble the tangled web of thoughts knotted in your mind before you did any of that. You needed to talk to Azriel.

You stood outside his study with your forehead pressed to the door, not yet having the courage to open it.

In the past twelve years you’d been in a relationship with the Shadowsinger, you had many conversations exploring the what if’s of your future. The notion of the mating bond snapping between you and someone else – or him and someone else – had been something you both considered. Neither of you were naive enough to assume that it would be as simple as just choosing each other – what with the intensity of the mating bond – but neither of you really thought that it would happen either, often just assuming that it would snap between the two of you in due time.

You had been so incredibly enamored with each other since the day you met; everything had fallen so beautifully into place that it had been easy to throw all caution to the wind and fall helplessly in love. Mating bond be damned.

You knew that if a bond had snapped between you and anyone else, the choice would be simple. You and Azriel prepared for something like this — the swirling lines of complementary ink on both of your torsos had been proof of that — but never did either of you consider that it would involve the one other person that you both loved almost as much as you loved each other.

You had a long history with Cassian, and though nothing romantic had ever occurred between you, somehow the choice was now infinitely more impossible. It wasn’t difficult to admit that you loved Cassian, you knew him and cherished him for as long as you could remember. But could you love him in the way that the mating bond demanded? Could you love him in the way that he deserved?

Those were questions that you couldn’t answer, too confused as you contemplated the implications of your mate being someone you loved in an entirely different way than you loved Azriel.

So you opened the door to Azriel’s study, seeking safety and refuge with the one person who could help you make sense of this impossible predicament.

One look at you standing in the doorway told Azriel all he needed to know. The time he prayed would never come was finally here. The knit of your eyebrows and the quiver in your lip shattered his usually calm countenance as he tried to ignore the overwhelming feeling of dark uncertainty settling in his chest.

The sad, resigned smile that he gave you as he sat at his desk made tears well up in your eyes. You felt guilty and confused and so, so horrible, wondering what must be running through his mind as he looked at you, understanding intuitively that you had found your mate.

And that it wasn’t him.

You wanted to soothe the fears that were so clearly written all over his face, but you couldn’t find the words, afraid that if you opened your mouth nothing but nonsensical blubbering would come out. But you needed to say something, to explain the overly complicated cocktail of emotions roiling in your gut.

However, before you could even begin to string together a coherent sentence, he crossed the room in three long strides, resting his palm against your cheek as his thumb ran a soothing path back and forth across your skin. Azriel leaned down to kiss away the tears that had escaped before pulling your head into his chest.

The comforting warmth of the body you knew so well worked wonders on your nerves, your mind already clearing itself enough to tame some of the turmoil that had overtaken your consciousness. You allowed yourself to focus only on the feel of the strong planes of his body against yours, losing yourself in the luxury of his embrace.

“It’s Cassian,” you said after a few long minutes.

Though your words were muffled into the fabric of his shirt, Azriel had heard them loud and clear. He almost laughed at the sheer atrocity of it all; how could the Cauldron be so spiteful? You — the greatest love he’s ever known — and Cassian — his brother in all but blood — were mates.

He felt as though the Mother had taken Truthteller and carved a path through his chest, leaving him to piece together the vestiges of his heart after she had stolen you from it. But he wouldn’t let himself fall apart, not when you were so clearly in need of his unwavering stability.

“Does he know?” Azriel cursed the way his voice betrayed him; it sounded so small as it broke over each syllable of his question.

You tightened your arms around his waist, anchoring yourself to the steady thrum of his familiar heartbeat, “Sort of. It’s snapped for him, but I don’t think he’s realized that I know yet.”

Your words hung in the air, heavy and somber. Neither of you said anything, only holding each other as a gentle breeze wafted through Azriel’s open windows. You wondered again what must have been going through his mind, wondered if he was as scared and sad and torn as you were. By the way his fingers trembled almost imperceptibly as his hand ran up and down the length of your spine, you concluded that he was.

Azriel wanted to stay like this forever, savor the moments before either of you had to make a decision. Infinite possibilities raced through his mind, and his heart warred with itself.

He loved you — gods, did he love you — but he also loved Cassian. Knew that Cassian was an honorable male, had a suspicion for years that Cassian loved you the same way that he did. But even then, Azriel wanted to be selfish. Wanted to beg you to choose him because if you didn’t he wasn’t sure what would happen to him.

You had been his lifeline since the day he met you; he didn’t think it was possible to love and be loved the way you had shown him, and he greedily didn’t want to live a life without it.

But he loved you so fiercely that your happiness was paramount, your decision to choose for yourself was of utmost importance and, arguably, was the only thing that mattered in this moment. Azriel couldn’t help but think, though, that you deserved the love and connection of a mate, deserved the love he’d seen blossom beautifully between Rhys and Feyre, and if that meant you’d leave him, then he was glad it would be for Cassian.

“I don’t know what to do,” came your small, rasped confession. You pulled your head away from his chest to look up at him, eyes glassy with unshed tears, “Tell me what to do, Az.”

He gave you that sad smile again (and you quickly decided you hated that you were the cause of this forlorn look of his), his scarred hand coming up to tame the wisps of hair that had clung to your forehead, “I can’t, love.”

After a beat he added, “I think you should tell him, though. Soon. He deserves to know, and you both deserve the chance to…talk about it.”

You knew what he was dancing around saying, knew that he meant he would let you go if you decided that you wanted this mateship with Cassian rather than what you had with him. That it was all in your hands, and entirely your decision. Your heart twisted painfully as you were confronted with the bottomless depth of Azriel’s love for you; he would sacrifice his love and happiness for yours without contest.

“Az…”

“You have me,” he started again, his hazel eyes burning into yours with such unwavering loving conviction you were glad his arms were around you to keep your knees from buckling. “No matter what you choose, you have me. Mating bond or not, I’m yours. If you want to see where things go with Cassian, you should. I’d wait for you…even if you decided you’d never come back to me, I'd wait.”

His heartfelt confession made another round of tears burn your eyes as you nodded. You cradled his neck, pulling him down to kiss him. Both of you savored the familiar feel of your lips moving together in a practiced dance.

“I love you.”

Azriel knew you meant it; even if you chose to explore your newfound mating bond, knew that nothing could ever take from him the parts of yourself you allowed him the privilege of loving. And so he said it back, insistently ignoring the gnawing worry that it would be the last time.

It wasn’t that much of a shock when Cassian felt you tug oh-so-tentatively on the bond the week after he ran into you in the dining room. He had immediately noticed your shift in demeanor, the heat creeping up your cheeks as you made a beeline out of the room despite having just entered. He had felt something change on his end of the bond the moment your skirts brushed past him in your rush to exit. The bond had finally snapped for you, but he couldn’t reach you, your consciousness locked behind steel-reinforced shields.

A rush of conflicting emotion had erupted in Cassian’s chest at the realization, and it took every ounce of self discipline he had to not chase you down. He knew you would need time, would probably want to tell Azriel before anything else, so he waited and ignored the incessant nagging of the bond to seek you out. He would do this right, would leave the decision entirely up to you despite his overwhelming desire for you to choose him.

Truthfully, Cassian didn’t think that you’d open up on your end so soon after it had snapped, and he tried not to read too much into what that could mean. Instead, when he felt that gentle pulse from you beneath his ribcage, he tugged back in acknowledgement.

Cass…?

Your voice flooded every inch of his head and it was sheer bliss to feel you so intimately intertwined with his mind.

Hey, you.

He replied, heart thundering so loudly he worried that you’d hear it.

Can we talk? Meet on the balcony near the library? Maybe in an hour?

Cassian had never been so anxious, had never been so uncertain and nervous and excited in his life. Regardless of what happened — of what you said — he just wanted to see you. His avoidance of you these past few months was nothing short of torture, and just the thought of being near you again in a way that meant something sent Cassian’s entire being into a new plane of happiness.

Wouldn’t miss it, sweetheart.

You didn’t reply, but he felt you send a wave of fondness and appreciation towards him; Cassian felt like a starved man who had just been offered a loaf of bread.

He had intended on getting at least a little bit of work done in the hour before he was set to meet you, but Cassian found his mind drifting to thoughts of you as he flew around the perimeter of Velaris, running through scenario after scenario that could happen. His excitement was overshadowed by the looming possibility that you would reject the bond, and just the thought of it sent bile churning in his gut.

Cassian knew how much love existed between you and Azriel, had seen firsthand how much you both had committed yourselves to each other. Part of him felt guilty; Azriel was his brother and he didn’t want to be the thing that stood in Az’s way of keeping the love that everyone knew he deserved and that you so willingly provided. Cassian’s mind was twisting circles around itself as he thought about how this would end. Because while Azriel loved you, so did Cassian. And he would be a fool to give up so easily on the opportunity to show you just how much you meant to him, how much he adored you.

Before Cassian could make any headway in finding a solution for this impossible situation, it was time for him to meet you. So, Cassian fluttered his wings and made his way towards the House.

You were already standing on the balcony when he landed, pacing as you alternated between worrying your bottom lip with your teeth and biting your nails. Even with confusion marring your features, the golden hour light of the sun encased you in such warmth, that you glowed luminescent, and he wanted to freeze this moment and remember it forever.

Cassian tamed the urge to kiss the worry away from your raw, swollen lips and massage the crease out from between your brows, and instead said, “Hey.”

You looked up at him and stole the breath straight from his lungs with the radiance of your smile, though dimmed no doubt by the anxiety that plagued you.

“Cass,” you started, soft and the slightest bit hesitant. “Hi.”

An awkward silence that never existed between you two settled in the air now, neither of you wanting to be the one to broach the subject you knew tormented you both day and night. You had almost backed out of having this conversation three times within the past hour, but you knew that it needed to be done. For all of your sakes.

“We’re mates,” you said, and Cassian didn’t miss the way your statement sounded half like a question, as if you still couldn’t wrap your head around the notion. He nodded, stating more definitively, “We’re mates.”

Again, another silence permeated the too large space between you and Cassian thought he’d hurl himself off the ledge of the balcony to avoid the palpable awkwardness of it all. This certainly wasn’t what he pictured in his mind when you both finally had the conversation about your mateship.

You cleared your throat stiffly, not quite meeting his eyes as a cute blush betrayed your serious countenance, “I’m not really sure what to do, Cass. I’ve been thinking about this nonstop for the past week and…I just don’t– I don’t know what to do. I really just–”

Cassian aptly noted the way your emotions showed so clearly on your face. Maybe it was because he could also feel you unwittingly sending them down the bond, but he could tell that your stuttering and frantic fumbling for words was wrought from a week’s worth of anxiety and spinning your thoughts over and over in your mind, probably similar to the way that he had been doing for the past six months. He hated thinking that you felt even a fraction of the confusion and pain that he had endured for the past half a year.

Slowly, in the face of your pain stricken confusion, Cassian's resolve to fight for your affections was crumbling.

Your eyes finally met his, and the glassy sheen of tears that marred their usual clarity made Cassian’s heart lurch; how he wished you would never look at him with such an anguished expression on your face.

“I care about you, Cassian. I care about you so, so much,” you said, and he knew you meant it. He saw it in the way your brows twisted together in earnest and the way your fists clenched at your sides determinedly. He could feel the conflict storming beneath your ribs and wanted to do everything he could to chase it away, make it so that you never faced uncertainty for the rest of your days. But he let you continue, his pulse thundering so loudly he almost couldn’t hear you over the rush of his own blood.

“I just–” you trailed off then, unable to voice your thoughts as they were a tangled mess roiling around in your head, ricocheting off the walls of your skull.

What were you even going to say? You thought you had made a decision, thought you would tell him that you couldn’t accept the bond, that you could never leave Azriel like this. But one look at Cassian and the hope he so desperately tried to mask in his eyes left you floundering, the mating bond begging you not to sever it, not to hurt Cassian. You didn’t expect to be at such an impasse; how were you supposed to choose between instinct and desire? Love and connection? Weren’t they all one in the same anyway? But if they were, how could they be split between the two most important people in your life? What a cruel, cruel fate you all had been subjected to.

Cassian watched as you puzzled through your thoughts, and his desire to ease your worry spurred him to action. He knew the decision would tear you apart, would obliterate not only your relationship with Azriel, but his too, even though he knew Azriel would never hold something like this against either of you. But Cassian loved you both too much to tip the scales in his favor at the cost of ruining his family, of hurting you, of forcing you to make an impossible decision and living with the regret of hurting them both.

So, he chose for you. Despite the way that his heart screamed at him, begged him not to reject the bond, he did anyway. He used every ounce of self control he had to hold himself together and remind himself over and over again that this was the right decision. The future with you that Cassian so desperately wanted was a hair’s breadth away, and for a few precious seconds he allowed himself to sit in the bliss of the in-between, pretending that his next words would be I love you instead of—

“I don’t think we should do this, Y/N,” he said, forcing his voice not to shake, his eyes not to water with the pain of pushing you away. “Maybe…maybe the Cauldron got it wrong.”

He hoped he sounded more convincing than he felt. Because how could the Cauldron get it wrong when being near you, loving you felt so right?

The look you gave him at his words was a mixture of relief and…something else that he couldn’t place. Was it disappointment? Regret?

Cassian didn’t let himself dwell on it further because if he did, and if he convinced himself that he saw even a glimmer of disappointment at his rejection in your eyes, he’d take everything back and say fuck it, I love you, give me a chance. So he averted his gaze as you took his hand, iron willpower crumbling at the sweet euphoria that filled his chest at your touch.

“Cassian,” you rarely used his full name, but you did now and he looked up at you and into your eyes. When he finally met your gaze again, you pulled him into a wonderfully tight hug, “Thank you. I– thank you.”

Despite the searing sting your words left on his heart, Cassian let himself pretend that you were his for the last time as he reveled in your embrace, holding you so steadily, so delicately that if you didn’t know he loved you before, you must have known now.

You pulled away after a few moments but kept him close, holding his face in your hands as your thumbs brushed the apples of his cheeks, eyes searching his face in earnest, “You know I’ll always love you right, Cass?”

You knew it was a cruel and selfish thing to say to him, especially because you could feel the echo of his true feelings down the bond that was slowly, painfully weakening at Cassian’s unwanted rejection. But you needed him to know, needed him to understand more than anything that your love for him transcended the romantic and was existing in a plane reserved solely for him. You wanted him to know that you couldn’t ever thank him or repay him for his sacrifice born out of pure unadulterated love for you; you only wished you could do the same for him.

Briefly, you concluded that — in an alternate universe, another life — Cassian would have loved you with a ferocity that put the heat of the sun to shame. But in this life, you couldn’t tear your heart away from Azriel; your love for him was built on the foundational elements of trust and choice, and you would pick him time and time again.

In this life, you would be greedy and accept Cassian’s sacrifice of his own love for yours, and you would damn well make sure it was worth it.

As if he could read your thoughts — and maybe he could now — he nodded and pulled you in again with a parting kiss to your forehead.

“I know," he said, closing his eyes and leaning in to your touch, savoring the fleeting moments that you had been so close to being his, telling himself that he was grateful for the love that you would offer him, even if it wasn't in the way he so desperately desired. "I know."

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ladylokilaufeyson5 · 1 month

Text

Where The Shadows Dance - The Proposition (i)

Bodyguard!Azriel x AutumnDaughter!Reader

CHAPTER I: The Proposition

SUMMARY: Beron has invited the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court to spend a week in the Autumn Court. Azriel and the rest of the Court of Dream believe he has ulterior motives, and they are correct - but these motives come as a surprise.

WARNINGS: Um. Misogyny. love that for us (i hate the autumn court). swearing (the f-word (as in fuck)), y/n has daddy issues (bc beron is a cunt) and uh... i haven't read acotar in ages so apologies for any OC characteristics and forgetting everything about the autumn court. but i did read HOFAS recently so hopefully az isn't too out of character. also tw: beron

NOTE: so obviously Y/n is the daughter of the autumn court. we know they have red hair BUT i want this to be as less oc as possible so y/n has your colour hair and u can make up ur own story about why but mine is that she's 'rebellious' (as you'll see later on) and just dyes her hair. also special thank you to my moots @icey--stars and @fieldofdaisiies for proofreading my work! i love you guys<3

WORDS: 2.7K

Azriel glowered at the male sat across from him. Eris either didn't notice or pretended he didn't care as he reclined in his chair, one arm over the back and looking for all the world he was in his own home, rather than the Court Of Nightmares.

"Eris," Rhys drawled, "if you have any information to help us with this meeting with your father, we would appreciate it immensely."

The High Lord of the Autumn Court had invited the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court to his castle for a week, as a gesture of good will, and an attempt to strengthen their bonds. Of course, the court was suspicious of the intent behind such actions. Although Azriel had sent his contacts in to find any sliver of information, his spies had come back empty-handed.

Eris rolled his shoulders, seemingly at ease despite being surrounded by the Night Court's most deadly warriors. "I am not entirely sure what he wants, but I assume it has something to do with my sister, Y/n."

Y/n, the only daughter of the High Lord of Autumn. She was quite young, by Fae standards – only seventy-nine. She had not fought in the war against Hybern, and had very little training according to Azriel's knowledge.

"Why her?" Feyre asked carefully.

Azriel heard the shift in her tone. She was wondering, as they all were, what Beron intended to do with her. The Autumn Court was just as backwards as the Court Of Nightmares, and females were considered little more than property.

Eris simply shrugged, either not hearing the implications in the High Lady's tone, or simply not caring. "That is all I know, I'm afraid."

Cassian grunted, his eyes still on the heir to the Autumn throne. No one was particularly happy about the bargain they had struck with him, but he seemed to be a willing ally. For now.

"What can you tell us about her?" Feyre inquired.

Eris watched her for a moment, before responding, "She is… wild. Untamed, and unpredictable."

Despite his words, Azriel sensed a flicker of admiration in his tone. Azriel stored that piece of information away. It could be a weakness of Eris's, his sister. They may need to exploit it one day.

"Sounds like my kind of lady," Mor grinned.

The fact that Mor bothered speak in Eris's presence was a gift that the heir did not appreciate enough. Azriel glanced sidelong at her, noticing the way her unbound golden hair cascaded down her back, and the amount of skin her low-cut red dress revealed. Once, looking at her like that would have sent Azriel mad with longing. But after she had confided in him, after she had revealed she could never love him back because she preferred females… some part of him had been relieved to let her go.

Eris scoffed at Mor's comment. "Yes, well, she irritates my father to no end."

There was a silence, and Azriel wondered whether Y/n annoyed Eris as well, before Rhys sighed, "Well, if that's all, Eris, I'm sure you have places to be."

The dismissal was clear in the High Lord's tone, and Eris rose from his chair with a nod before leaving the council room. Everyone was silent as the male left, all eyeing each other. Feyre and Rhys were looking at each other, a clear indication of their telepathic conversation, and Azriel watched the two with a hint of jealousy. Of course he was happy from them – finding one's mate was one of the most fulfilling things one could experience. But he couldn't help but feel a sense of longing for his own. It seemed he was the last of the court to find his mate, and he had a fear that he would never find them.

"Has anyone heard much about this Princess?" Cassian asked, looking towards Azriel.

Azriel shook his head. "She is one of the most guarded individuals in Prythian. My sources struggle to even see her."

"Very guarded indeed," Rhysand murmured.

The Court of Dreams debated between themselves the possibilities of what the High Lord of Autumn could want regarding his daughter. Azriel had a few of his own suspicions – to have her taken away, or perhaps trained in combat – but none of them seemed accurate.

After a while of debating plausible explanations for Beron's offer, the court decided to head home to the City of Starlight in order to get a good night's rest before their meeting tomorrow. The High Lord and High Lady were going, as well as Cassian and Azriel. Morrigan was not permitted in the Autumn Court, so she would stay behind with Nesta to hold down the fort while they were gone. Amren would also be travelling to the Autumn Court, and although the monster she was no longer crawled beneath her skin, she made most people wary.

As he lay in his bed, Azriel couldn't help but wonder what awaited him tomorrow. He was curious about what the Autumn High Lord wanted, especially regarding his daughter, although he was also wary. Although Autumn had helped them in the war, they couldn't be trusted. Azriel fell into an uneasy sleep, cautious of the days to come.

Azriel awoke at dawn the next day. They weren't due in the Autumn Court until the evening, so Azriel decided to go through his morning exercises. The Valkyries weren't up yet, so he went through his warm ups, taking his shirt off halfway through. The morning was uneventful, and Azriel ran over the information they had in his head. Eris had suggested that Beron may be seeking a favour of some sort, so perhaps it had something to do with that.

The day passed by quickly, and soon enough, those travelling to the Autumn Court had gathered in the living room of the River House, just as they had planned. Azriel and Cassian wore their scaled, black armour, while Rhys and Feyre wore their finery. Rhysand held his mate's arm, and Azriel grabbed onto Cassian, before winnowing to the entrance of the Autumn Court castle.

It was big, and made of stone. It was quite majestic, if Azriel was being honest – high towers and red and orange flags waving in the wind, large windows showcasing rich carpets and tapestries inside.

Rhys led the way, Feyre on his arm and Cassian and Azriel following closely, and Amren trailing behind. Guards monitored them as they passed through the halls, their armour heavier the closer they got to the throne room. Azriel marked each one as they passed, something he was sure Cassian and Rhysand were also doing.

The doors to the throne room opened, and revealed the High Lord of the Autumn Court sat atop a dais, the Lady of Autumn seated beside him. Beron's sons stood on his left, and his daughter was seated to her mother's right.

Azriel paused at the sight of her. She was beautiful, even by Fae standards. Her h/c hair shone in the Fae light liming the walls, piled neatly on her head in a braid crown. Y/n’s e/c eyes sparked with mischief and curiosity, skimming over the members of Azriel's Court, until they finally landed on him. Her gaze was mesmerising, and Azriel couldn't find it in himself to break it. A small smirk played at the corners of her mouth, as if she were aware of the effect she had on him, although Azriel's mask of icy cold had not budged even an inch. Azriel quickly tore his eyes away from the Daughter of Autumn, marking the guards posted by the doors and the dais, and counting the weapons each of Beron's sons carried.

"Beron," Rhysand purred, ever the arrogant High Lord, the mask back up despite the High Lords' meeting all those months ago. "So lovely to see you again. Thank you for inviting us to stay."

Beron rose from his dias and stalked towards the High Lord of the Night Court. Everyone tensed as he stepped closer and closer, and Azriel subtly reached for the dagger at his side. Beron's blood would spray across the marble floors the second Azriel suspected he would harm his High Lord or Lady. But Beron simply held his hand out, and Rhys gripped it tightly, his eyes holding a small amount of surprise.

"Rhysand. A pleasure to have you here," Beron replied. Azriel didn't miss the slight strain in his voice. "You must be hungry. Shall we?"

Beron inclined his head to the dining room and led the way with Rhysand and Feyre at his side. He hadn't even acknowledged the High Lady, something that made Azriel want to rip the male’s head off, but Rhys got there first.

“And what about my High Lady?” Rhys purred, a dangerous edge to his voice.

Beron’s smile faltered slightly, and he glanced at Feyre with a barely concealed look of distaste, as if he would rather rip off his own toenails than address a female with the same amount of respect that he would expect. Azriel felt a protective anger surge through him, and he watched carefully, curious as to what the High Lord’s next move would be.

“Of course,” Beron said, his voice dripping with fake courtesy. “My apologies, Lady Feyre. Of course it is wonderful to have you both visit.”

Cassian gave Azriel a look that said, And-what-about-us? Aren't-we-wonderful?

Azriel sent him a look back that said, Shut-the-fuck-up.

Beron led them all to the dining room, the Autumn colours present everywhere they looked. The chairs were all high-backed, and Azriel knew that Beron did not care if he and Cassian would be comfortable with their wings. Everyone took their seats — Beron at the head, Rhysand to his left, and Feyre beside him. Azriel sat next to his High Lady, Cassian taking his seat adjacent to the shadowsinger. The Lady of Autumn (still not a High Lady, despite the fact that Viviane was also now a High Lady) sat to Beron’s right, Eris beside her, and Y/n next to him, and across from Azriel. Azriel felt Y/n’s eyes on him, and he met her gaze. There was a curious look in her eyes, a look of anticipation mixed with mischief.

Dinner was served, an array of meats and vegetables placed on the table by servants, mostly lesser fairies. None of them looked Azriel in the eye, and he wondered if it was because they knew who and what he was, or if they’d been trained not to. Y/n, however, had no such qualms about this, and stared at the shadowsinger unabashedly.

Beron struck up a conversation with Rhys — small talk, something that Azriel internally cringed at, because it was definitely just to fill the silence. Ever the gracious guest, Rhysand responded in kind, although Azriel knew he was wondering what Beron’s ulterior motives were.

“How do your siphons work?”

The table went silent as Y/n spoke, her cunning eyes trained on Azriel. Beron looked at his daughter with a hint of irritation gleaming in his eyes, as if it was unacceptable for her to speak without permission. Azriel glanced at Rhysand, who was watching the daughter of Autumn with a hint of suspicion in his eyes.

“How do you know that is what they are called?” Rhys asked, his eyes trained on the only daughter of Autumn.

She shrugged, and answered, “I read a lot in my spare time. I remember reading about the Illyrians, and their siphons. If I remember correctly, Illyrians tend to possess only one, yet the two of you hold several.”

“There is no need to question our guests, Y/n,” Beron scolded firmly.

Y/n frowned. “I was simply curious.”

“Do not speak back to me,” Beron reprimanded, a burning fury now evident in his eyes.

Y/n slumped back into her chair slightly and bowed her head. “My apologies, Father.”

Beron didn’t even acknowledge his daughter before he turned back to Rhys, as if her mere existence didn’t deserve another moment of his time. Azriel watched the female in front of him as she stared at her plate, and felt a sense of sympathy for her. Azriel owed her nothing — he did not know the female in front of him, did not know if she even deserved his sympathy — and yet he felt the need to protect, to wipe that blank expression off of her face.

“Our siphons act as a conduit for our raw power,” Azriel offered, causing Y/n to look up. Beron paused, glancing at the shadowsinger and the Autumn daughter, and Azriel continued, “It helps to control our magic, to make it precise and nimble, rather than a messy outburst of power.”

Cassian gaped at his brother, as if he had never heard that many words come out of Azriel’s mouth in one sitting. While that was an inaccurate statement, it was true that Azriel never tended to speak in front of new people. He wasn’t sure why he had done so anyway. But Y/n bowed her head in thanks at the information, perhaps still wary of answering and speaking without her father’s permission, but Azriel had observed a small, triumphant light in the female’s eyes at his reply.

Azriel watched as that gleam faded when Beron cleared his throat, gaining the attention from everyone in the room.

“There is a reason why I have asked you here,” Beron stated.

“Surprise, surprise,” Cassian muttered, and Azriel elbowed him.

Beron glanced at Cassian for all of a second before continuing, “There has been an attempt on my daughter’s life.” Stunned silence met Beron’s words, and Azriel caught Y/n rolling her eyes. That raised his suspicion — were Beron’s words false, or did she simply believe it was not an issue? “If it appeals to you,” Beron went on, “I seek to employ one of your Night Court warriors as her personal bodyguard.”

Rhys blinked once, his only sign of surprise. Beron looked at Rhys expectantly, and Azriel could have guessed the thoughts that flew around Rhys’s head.

“Why one of my warriors?” Rhys inquired carefully.

“I hoped it might help strengthen bonds between our courts,” Beron expressed.

Azriel watched the High Lord of the Autumn Court carefully. There seemed to be no ulterior motives hidden within his demeanour — he did not shift nervously, none of his facial features even so much as twitched.

“And say I agree to this,” Rhys said casually, “how long would you hold onto one of my warriors?”

“Until the threat against my daughter’s life is eliminated,” Beron answered.

There was silence for a few moments while everyone processed what was happening. Azriel looked at Eris to see the male’s eyes on his father. They were carefully guarded, a mask in place to ensure no one was able to discern what he was thinking. Azriel turned his gaze to Y/n, and a shadow slithered up by his ear.

She does not believe it to be such a serious matter, the shadow whispered. She wishes for this dinner to be over so she may go back to her quarters and finish her novel.

Azriel blinked in surprise at the information from his shadow. Usually, his shadows would tell him what others could not see and hear — but this felt almost like too much. Yes, his shadows had a tendency to recognise when someone was lying, or what weapons they were concealing, but to give him a person’s unvoiced opinion on a matter was something new.

But indeed, with her chin propped up on her delicate hand, and twirling her dessert fork in the other, she appeared to be completely disinterested. Azriel turned his gaze back to the male beside her, to see Eris already watching his sister. His eyes were cold and calculating as he regarded her, as if he was mentally playing out how this ‘bodyguard’ situation would go. With the slight frown tugging the corners of his lips downwards, Azriel assumed Eris did not believe it would end well.

“Please, do take time to come to a decision,” Beron offered. “I do understand this is a lot to ask.”

“We shall have an answer by the end of the week,” Rhys said with a nod.

Beron nodded back, and Azriel wondered what they were getting themselves into.

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mxnsterbabe · 1 year

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Male Owl Fae/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 3,332 Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

You start a new job at the Reader's Garden, a twenty-four hour library with a secret resident. As you get to know Anjouan, you can't help but fall for him.

You stepped into the Reader's Garden twenty-four hour library, nervous and excited for your first night shift. The towering shelves and musty smell of old books filled the air, creating an atmosphere of mystery and wonder. Rumours of supernatural beings inhabiting the library had always surrounded the place, but you dismissed them as mere stories meant to keep people entertained.

The clock struck nine as a friendly colleague greeted you with a warm smile; she was a beautiful elven woman with thick black curls and a bright smile.

"I'm Nousha," she said kindly, "want a tour of the Reader's Garden?"

You beamed right back. "You bet."

Nousha led you through the labyrinth of bookshelves, pointing out the different sections and areas you'd be responsible for. Her voice echoed softly in the vast space as she explained the library's layout and rules.

As you walked, you couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching you. You glanced around the dimly lit crevices and caught glimpses of shadows shifting in the corners of your vision. Your heart raced, but you reminded yourself that it was just your imagination and focused on Nousha's words.

Finally, Nousha brought you to the back of the library, where a dusty old door creaked open to reveal a hidden, ancient section. "This area is rarely visited," she murmured, "but you'll need to check on it occasionally. We have a couple of regulars who could disappear in here for hours." She paused, brows furrowed. "Some say this part of the library is haunted, but I've never seen anything myself."

You chuckled nervously, trying to brush off the eerie feeling that settled in your chest. You knew it was just a job, and there was nothing to be afraid of. The two of you spent a few more minutes exploring the older section, with its rows of leather-bound books and cobwebs hanging from the ceiling.

After your tour, Nousha wished you luck and left you alone in the silent library. "That's pretty much it," she admitted with a smile. "If you need anything, I'm just a phone call away. Sorry to leave you on your own for the first shift, but we're so understaffed..." she trailed off with an apologetic wince.

Honestly, the peace and quiet was half the reason you chose this job to begin with. You offered a smile and replied, "it's no problem, honestly. Get home safe, Nousha, and thanks for the tour."

Nousha left with a wave and a kindly grin, leaving you alone in the cavernous library foyer. The shadows seemed to grow longer, and the air felt colder as the night deepened. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, and turned to the stacks of books that needed put away.

It was well past midnight when you first heard it – a soft rustle, like the flutter of wings, followed by the faintest whisper. You froze, listening intently, but the sound didn't come again. You brushed it off as the wind or the creaking of old wood and continued your work.

But as the night wore on, the whispers grew more persistent, and you couldn't ignore them any longer. With your heart pounding, you followed the sounds, which led you to the dusty old door Nousha had shown you earlier. You hesitated, hand on the doorknob, wondering if you should venture into the ancient, secluded section. Curiosity got the better of you, and you pushed the door open with a long creak.

As you stepped into the ancient part of the library, the whispers grew louder, and you felt the tickle of a gaze watching you from... somewhere. You searched the dark corners, shining your flashlight into the shadows, until you finally spotted a figure perched on one of the shelves. Your heart skipped a beat as you realized it wasn't a human, or even an elf or orc – he was clearly fae, with large, luminous eyes and a cloak of feathers draped over his shoulders.

You offered a gentle smile, hoping to convey peaceful intentions. The fae's eyes seemed to search your face for any signs of deceit or danger. His features were a blend of human and owl, with a sharp, angular face and large, expressive eyes framed by an array of intricate feathers. His white wings, a magnificent sight to behold, spanned several feet, their tips touching the bookshelves on either side of him. He was like nothing you had ever seen before, leaving you breathless.

Fae were uncommon enough in Oceanhall town, but someone as magnificent as this was even rarer. Standing face-to-face with this strange owl fae, you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe wash over you.

His eyes narrowed as he continued to study you, head tilted to one side. You could tell he was skittish and unsure of how to react to your presence. You decided to break the silence, hoping to ease his concerns.

"Hi," you whispered softly, keeping your voice low and gentle. "I didn't mean to startle you."

His wings twitched again, and he tilted his head to one side, as if contemplating your words. You took another step back, giving him more space, and noticed that he seemed to relax, if only slightly.

You tried to come up with something else to say, something that might help bridge the gap between you. "I've always loved this library," you continued, your voice filled with sincerity. "There's something magical about it. It's why I wanted to work here. Well, that and the fact the night shift is always quiet. Who comes to a library at one o'clock anyway?"

He seemed to consider your words for a moment, his eyes flicking between you and the books that surrounded him. It was clear that he, too, felt a deep connection to this place. Just as you thought he might respond, a sudden noise from elsewhere in the library made him tense up.

He looked around nervously, and you could see the fear in his eyes. He was afraid of being discovered, of being forced to leave the sanctuary he had found within the library. Before you could say anything more, he spread his magnificent wings and took off across the cavernous library, disappearing into the shadows like a phantom.

You stood there for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest, trying to process what had just happened. The encounter had been so brief, so unexpected, and yet it still left you reeling.

As you turned to leave the ancient section of the library, your mind raced with questions. Who was he? Why had he chosen this library as his refuge? And, most importantly, would you ever see him again?

***

The next day, as the sun cast its golden rays through the library windows, you found yourself unable to shake the memory of your encounter with the owl fae. Your mind was consumed with thoughts of him, and you felt an inexplicable need to learn more about his presence in the library. With a mixture of curiosity and trepidation, you approached Nousha, who was busy sorting through a cart of books.

"Hey, Nousha," you began hesitantly, "I wanted to ask you something. Do you know anything about an owl fae living here in the library?"

Nousha looked at you, a puzzled expression on her face. "An owl fae? I've never heard of such a creature in our library. We have a few fae regulars, but they don't live here?"

You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should share the details of your encounter. "Well, last night, during my shift, I saw something... unusual. Maybe I imagined it."

You knew you hadn't, of course, but if Nousha didn't know then maybe it wasn't sensible to tell her too much. You thought of the fear that flashed across the fae's face when you first saw him, and sympathy twisted your heart.

Nousha's eyes widened in surprise. "I've been working here for years, and I've never seen anything unusual. Maybe he's just a shy visitor who usually stays hidden."

You nodded, considering her words. "Yeah, maybe... if you see anything weird, can you let me know?"

"Sure, of course."

You thanked Nousha for her help and went back to your work, but the mystery of the fae continued to gnaw at you. If no one else had seen him, then perhaps he had a reason for remaining hidden. Was he in danger, or was he simply distrustful?

As the day wore on, you couldn't help but let your eyes wander to the dusty old door that led to the ancient section. You knew that the chances of seeing the owl fae again during the day were slim, but you couldn't help but hope that you might catch a glimpse of him.

When your shift ended, you lingered in the library, reading up on fae lore and legends in the hopes of finding some information about owl fae. The books offered a wealth of knowledge on various fae species, but there was no mention of any creature resembling the one you had encountered.

As the night unfolded, you discreetly searched for the elusive creature, hoping to catch a glimpse of him among the towering bookshelves. After what felt like hours of fruitless searching, you found yourself back at the entrance to the ancient section. Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the dusty old door and stepped inside, your heart pounding with anticipation.

You moved quietly through the dimly lit room, your eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of the owl fae. Then, you spotted him – perched on one of the highest shelves, his wings tucked neatly around him as he peered down at you with curiosity and caution.

Determined to coax him into conversation, you approached him slowly, speaking in a soft and gentle tone. "Hello again," you said. "I've been hoping to see you. Are you all right in here?"

The owl fae tilted his head, considering your words. After a moment, he hesitantly replied, his voice barely audible, "What do you want with me?"

You paused, searching for the right words. "I'm curious," you admitted, "and I want to understand why you're here, in the Reader's Garden. I promise, I won't harm you or expose your secret."

He seemed to ponder your promise before finally speaking again. "My name is Anjouan," he said softly, "and this library... it's my sanctuary. It's the one place where I feel safe."

As Anjouan spoke, you could hear the vulnerability in his voice, and you felt a sense of protectiveness towards him. "I think I understand," you said, "I promise, I won't tell anyone you're here."

Anjouan's eyes shimmered with gratitude, and for the first time, you saw a hint of warmth in his gaze. "Thank you," he whispered.

You offered a smile, inching towards where he perched high above you. Although a part of you didn't want to scare him off again, the larger part of you wanted to get closer. "Do you mind if I stay a while?" you asked.

He spread one enormous wing as if beckoning you closer. "Yes, please do."

The two of you sat together in the dimly lit ancient section of the library, surrounded by the comforting scent of old books and the hushed whispers of stories long forgotten.

As the night wore on, you and Anjouan spoke about everything and nothing – the books you loved, the worlds you dreamed of, the little things that made life worth living. The more you learned about Anjouan, the more enchanted you became by his gentle nature and the wisdom that seemed to flow from him like the ink on the pages he cherished.

You noticed a change in Anjouan as well, a few minutes at a time. After a while he shifted closer to you, bent low to meet your gaze despite his towering height.

"I want you to know how grateful I am to have found you," he murmured, making you shiver. "For so long, I've been hiding here, isolated from the rest of the town. I know that my kind are more accepted now, but when I first went into hiding... anyway, you've shown me that maybe I don't have to hide anymore."

You felt your heart swell with affection for the tender-hearted man before you. "Anjouan," you replied, reaching out to gently touch his feathered arm, "I'm grateful too.."

Anjouan's eyes softened as he leaned into your touch, clearly moved by your words. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you waved gentle fingers through his soft feathers.

As the night drew to a close and the first rays of dawn began to filter through the library's windows, you knew that your time with Anjouan had to come to an end for now. But as you said your goodbyes and returned to the foyer, you already felt a pang of reluctance at having to leave him.

***

Over the following weeks, you saw Anjouan more and more. When you weren't dealing with the odd nightly regular, you spent countless hours together in the library exploring the hidden nooks and crannies of the Reader's Garden. As the days turned into nights, the library became a haven where you could leave the worries of the world behind and immerse yourself in the magic of each other's company.

One morning before your shift ended, you decided to surprise Anjouan with an early breakfast. You had noticed that he was often so absorbed in his reading that he would forget to eat, and you wanted to make sure he was taking care of himself. It didn't occur to you that he didn't actually need to. So, with a steaming thermos of tea and a basket filled with an assortment of pastries and fruit, you made your way to the ancient section, where you knew Anjouan would be waiting.

As you entered the room, Anjouan looked up from the book he was reading, his eyes lighting up with surprise and delight as he saw what you had brought. "Evelyn, what's all this?" he asked, a touch of wonder in his voice.

"I thought we could share breakfast together," you replied with a smile, setting the basket and thermos down on a nearby table. "I wanted to make sure you were taking care of yourself."

Anjouan's eyes shimmered with amusement as he looked at the spread you had prepared. "Thank you," he said softly, his voice gentle. "No one has ever done something like this for me before."

You reached out to squeeze his hand gently, your fingers brushing against the soft cream feathers that adorned his arms. "You're important to me, Anjouan," you said earnestly, "and I want you to know that you're not alone anymore. I'm here for you."

Anjouan looked into your eyes, and for a moment, it felt as though the rest of the world ceased to exist. All that mattered was the sparkle in his eyes, the gentle flush of his cheeks where the feathers were thinner.

Slowly, Anjouan leaned in towards you, his breath warm and sweet as it mingled with your own. Your heart raced in anticipation, and as his lips finally met yours, it felt as though time itself had stopped,.

The kiss was tender and sweet, leaving you breathless with giddiness. As you pulled apart, your eyes locked with Anjouan's, and you could see the warmth reflected in his gaze.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely audible, "for showing me that there is still love and kindness in this world. You've shown me more in our short time together than decades of hiding here."

His voice was soft like the rustle of leaves, his large eyes glittering - but the moment was cut short when you heard footsteps approaching. Nousha entered the dimly lit room, her eyes widening in shock as they fell upon Anjouan.

Her gaze darted from Anjouan to you as if questioning her own sanity. Her face paled, her lips trembling in disbelief. You could see the panic rising within her, her breaths shallow and rapid.

In an instant, she turned heel and darted from the room. Her heart raced, her fear almost palpable. You knew that you had to act quickly to calm her down before she ran off and alerted the whole library.

You rushed to Nousha's side, gripping her arm gently, yet firmly enough to halt her escape. Her eyes were wide, searching yours for answers.

"Nousha, wait," you pleaded, your voice low and soothing. "It's okay. He's a friend."

You gestured to Anjouan, who tilted his head, observing the scene with quiet curiosity. Nousha's gaze returned to him, her body trembling as she struggled to comprehend the extraordinary creature before her.

Seeing her continued distress, you guided her to a nearby chair, urging her to sit down. She complied, her legs wobbling beneath her.

"Take deep breaths," you advised, demonstrating the action. "Anjouan is not here to harm anyone. He's been living in the library for a long time, and he hasn't caused you trouble yet."

As Nousha attempted to steady her breathing, you shot a reassuring smile towards Anjouan. He nodded, understanding the need for patience. Although his gaze shone with hesitancy, he didn't try to disappear.

Gradually, Nousha's breathing returned to normal, and her body began to relax. She continued to watch Anjouan, curiosity now replacing her initial fear.

"Really?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. "He's... friendly?"

You nodded, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Yeah, I promise. Would you like to meet him?"

With a cautious nod, Nousha agreed, and you led her closer to Anjouan. As she took her first tentative steps towards him, you felt a sense of pride in her bravery.

Anjouan ducked his head, and Nousha hesitantly shook his outstretched hand. Bit by bit, they both began to relax.

"See?" you offered kindly, "he's no different to any other fae."

"Yeah," she murmured; and although she was still pale, she didn't look nearly as distraught. "Sorry I freaked out."

After Nousha's initial introduction to Anjouan, she decided it was time for her to leave. Maybe she was still processing everything that had happened. With a shaky smile and a whispered promise to keep the secret, she exited the ancient section of the library, leaving you alone with Anjouan again.

As the door closed behind her, you felt a sense of quiet intimacy return to the room. The soft amber light filtering through the dusty windows cast a warm glow over the countless tomes and scrolls surrounding you.

Anjouan's eyes met yours, and his angular features creased into a soft smile. You moved closer to him, your footsteps barely audible against the worn wooden floor. His feathers shimmered in the dim light, and his gaze held a gentle warmth that made your heart swell.

You reached out a tentative hand, and Anjouan leaned into your touch, allowing you to stroke his soft feathers. His eyes closed, and a contented sigh escaped his beak. In that moment, you felt as though you shared a bond that transcended the barriers between your worlds, a connection built on trust, respect, and mutual curiosity.

You sat down on the floor beside him, your back resting against a bookshelf; and Anjouan nestled close to you, his warmth and presence enveloping you like a comforting embrace. The silence between you was comfortable, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of a page turning or the distant footsteps of library patrons.

As you sat there with Anjouan, you felt a profound sense of belonging, as if you had found a hidden sanctuary within the walls of the library. It was a place where you could be yourself, free from the judgment and expectations of the outside world.

You shared a smile with Anjouan, his eyes filled with gratitude and affection. In the soft, hushed atmosphere of the ancient library, you leaned in for another kiss.

#exophilia fiction #exophilia #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #monster romance #tag: mxf #tag: male monster #tag: female reader #tag: sfw #tag: fae

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mother-above · 2 months

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All the Time in the World

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel and his family are reminded that even fae don't have all the time in the world.

Warnings: fluff, angst, death, swearing, grief (this is my formal apology to you all)

*masterlist*

Everything happens for a reason.

Those are five words that people say to cope with and rationalize why bad or good things happen. Azriel, Rhysand, Cassian, Morrigan, and Amren are no strangers to those five words. They thought about it daily, sometimes it was their first thought after waking up. You were always in their dreams, sometimes frolicking in a meadow, they wouldn’t see your face, but they knew your body, the way your hair blew in the wind, how your arms were lifted so you could feel the sun's warmth. Sometimes you were the main character of their dreams, so vibrant and full of life. Tugging their hands to make them hurry up and keep up with you whether it was running errands in Velaris or on a mission.

The words “everything happens for a reason” would be whispered before they slept. They would go about their day and even if it were filled with love, happiness, and laughter there was that missing piece, a void that could never be filled.

You were an enigma. So powerful, so enchanting, that the nobles in Hewn City knew to keep you hidden away. But someone like you could never go unnoticed, especially when you could manipulate the elements. You’d been surrounded by earth and rock all your life and you just knew there was something more, you felt it when you touched the granite walls, the stone told you of the sun beating down and the wind and water that battered the outer layers of the mountain.

Fae with your powers could never live underground forever, the Court of Nightmares was a prison you were bound to escape. The nobles trained you like a warrior, Keir hoped to use you to usurp the High Lord, but Keir acted too late, your power had grown and could no longer be contained.

When Rhysand became High Lord, he caught wind of your presence, a flourishing beacon of power trapped underground. Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian took it upon themselves to investigate where this power was coming from. By the time they landed on the mountain, they were met by a female who paid no attention to the Illyrian warriors. Your head was thrown back as you savored the hot kiss of the sun for the first time in your life. Around you were granite rubble, and when they looked fifty feet to the right, there was a gaping hole that came straight from the depths of the mountain. You had dug yourself out and the Illyrians had no idea how.

Finally acknowledging the three brothers, you looked at the male with violet eyes. “They told me your name is Rhysand. That I have to kill you.”

Azriel and Cassian’s siphons flared as they drew their weapons and pointed them menacingly toward you.

That was the first time you met the young High Lord and his brothers. All it took was for Rhysand to read your unguarded mind to see what you are and how you’ve been raised. To Azriel and Cassian’s surprise, Rhysand invited you to live with them. Shortly after that, you were acquainted with Morrigan who you’ve seen around before, and this ancient creature named Amren. The six of you became a family that supported each other through thick and thin. Under their care, you developed your powers and were able to manipulate nature's elements in any way you could imagine.

Your type of power has never been seen before and you were dangerous only when you needed to be. Despite your rough upbringing, you were good, you were the sunshine that graced every room you entered. The only unstable part of you was how your moods could sway the environment around you, like the time that idiotic male cheated on you, and a volcano erupted in Illyria. On your 250th birthday, the inner circle threw you a surprise party and you were so happy, the next few days were unusually warm and sunny for the middle of winter. There was also that time Cassian pissed you off during training for pushing you too hard, a bolt of lightning and thunder cracked right about you. You don’t think you’ve heard Cassian scream on that pitch before.

One would think the High Lords of the other courts hated you, but they didn’t. Yes, you were a threat because you were another powerful individual who was loyal to Rhysand, but they couldn’t hate you, it was impossible to. Amren credited you for being the reason the other courts haven’t waged war on the Night Court, your presence was soothing, and you had a way to compromise like no other. You were such a good courtier that Beron tolerated you. It also didn’t help that your laughter was infectious, Thesan and Helion made sure you were invited to every big event.

You were accomplished, sociable, and a capable elemental manipulator but you always thought your greatest achievement was bringing Azriel out of his shell. At first, the shadowsinger was apprehensive about you living with them but that quickly changed, his shadows found you interesting and you coaxed him out of the shadows. In a way, he felt obligated to help you, all your life was spent in Hewn City and even then, you were more isolated than Morrigan. He knew you were stuck in the darkness, and he wanted to show you the light. At the time, he didn’t know he needed you more.

Azriel loved to replay the memory of taking you on your first flight tour of Velaris, you gripped his neck and shoulders as you shrieked in glee. He would never be able to forget how your scent overwhelmed him that day, pine and cherry blossoms forever embedded in his consciousness. He landed by the Sidra, and you leaped from his arms and headed straight to the water. You slipped your sandals off and dipped your toes into the cool water and a wide grin spread across your face.

“Azriel! Come here!”

He obliged, he found it difficult to say no to you. He stood by the bank and found comfort from the sound of rushing water. All was calm until water splashed his shirt, and his eyes snapped open to see you with a mischievous smile, perfect spheres of water floated above your hands. With a flick of your wrist, they collided with his body, the water making his black shirt stick onto his muscular torso. You had approximately 2 seconds to admire him before a large splash headed your way. Azriel grinned as he watched you stand there dumbstruck.

“Don’t start things you can’t finish,” smirked Azriel.

Then the water fight started and the two of you never gave up, it was elemental magic versus a strapping warrior. You called a truce and both of you walked to the townhouse dripping wet, Mor wouldn’t let you into the house till you stopped dripping so you and Azriel sat on the front steps and watched faeries of all kinds pass by. Azriel caught himself smiling at you whenever you talked, he felt safe with you, like you would never judge him for his scars or dark past. He found it easy to talk to you, you never pressured him to talk like his brothers and Mor would do. Sometimes one glance was all it took for you to understand what he needed.

The two of you danced around each other for decades, neither of you brave enough to take the next step. You saw Rhysand and Cassian as your brothers but when it came to Azriel, it felt different, there was unspoken tension, a different love that ran deep and made you blush. Every time he brought a female home, jealousy filled you and the clouds became grey and stormy. Azriel felt the same way when you started dating, no one ever stuck for more than a few months, but he hated every single one of the males, they would never be good enough for you. What stung the most was Azriel didn’t think he was good enough for you either.

One day, you and Morrigan were sitting at the table having breakfast. She remembers this day so clearly because she had never seen you blush that color red. Azriel stopped by to eat a banana before training, Morrigan watched you not so discreetly check Azriel out in his Illyrian leathers. When he was done eating, Azriel threw you a wink before he bounded up the stairs to the training ring.

“Have you guys fucked yet?”

You choked on the yogurt causing you to have a coughing fit. “Mor!” you hissed. “Why would you ask that?”

“The two of you work well together, you understand each other.”

You shrugged as you drank water. “He’s my best friend, how else am I supposed to act around him?”

Mor looked at you incredulously. “Do best friends check each other out? Give each other massages after a long mission? Lay their heads on each other’s laps when they read? Kiss each other on the cheek constantly? Fall asleep together on the couch? Do they-”

“Okay!” you exclaimed. “You’ve made your point!”

Your cheeks and ears were cherry red, they burned as you stared at your breakfast.

“The two of you are single right now. I think you should tell him how you feel. Azriel… is Azriel, I think he’s too scared to make the first move, he’s always been more insecure,” said Mor.

“What if he says no and I ruin our entire relationship?”

Mor looked at your beautiful features and softly laughed. “He would be lying to himself.”

One week later, you finally had the courage to talk to Azriel about your feelings. He was standing on the balcony nursing a glass of whiskey, staring at the storm clouds in the distance. You leaned against the railing and looked at him, your heart pounding.

“Are you okay?” Azriel’s full attention was on you, his eyes scanning for anything amiss.

You breathed deeply and fully turned to him. “Azriel… you’re my best friend and I wouldn’t want to change a thing, but I want more and… I think you do too.”

Azriel stared at you, his eyes wide as he tried to convince himself that this wasn’t a dream.

“Oh gods. You don’t feel the same way and I just ruined everything, haven’t I?” Your hands covered your face as you spun around to make a run for it.

Scarred hands clamped down on your shoulders and moved you to face him. Gently peeling your hands away from your cherry-red face, he smiled as his hands cupped your cheek. “You didn’t give me time to process.”

Your lips parted in shock. “So you want more?”

Azriel leaned closer to you, his breath blowing across your face. “I want to be with you.”

Going on your toes, you met him halfway. He remembered how soft your lips were, how you tasted like the wine you had been drinking to gather your courage. Your arms wound around his neck to you pulled him in closer, his large hands grabbed your waist and lifted you to sit on the railing.

A giggle stopped him from kissing you. “I might fall!”

Azriel’s arms wrapped around your body. “Then I’ll catch you.”

You beamed at him and Azriel’s heart felt full, you were the light he had been chasing all his life. He pressed his lips against yours and you melted against him, a small moan of contentment escaped your lips and Azriel grinned. He needed to hear that sound from you again.

“Ahem.”

You leaned to the side to see Amren smirking at the two of you. “Fucking finally. I thought we’d have to wait two hundred more years for this to happen.”

Azriel growled. “Is there a reason why you’re interrupting us?”

“Kallias sent out a distress message, I don’t know what kind of emergency so be prepared for anything. We leave in 5 minutes.”

Azriel let out a frustrated sigh and laid his head on your shoulder. “Such bad timing.”

Your fingers went to stroke the hairs on the nape of his neck. “I know,” you purred. “We can finish this when we get back. We’ll talk more about our future, what we want, what our boundaries are.”

Azriel lifted himself and looked in your gaze, so warm and full of life. The pad of his thumb ran over your bottom lip and that’s when he felt it. That golden thread unraveled itself and snapped into place. He was startled as he looked at you, your features oblivious to the mate bond.

He blinked as he realized it had yet to snap for you. You looked at him with so much adoration that for once in his life, he didn’t doubt your feelings. “Nothing,” he said as he pecked your cheek and helped you down from the railing. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“Okay, we have all the time in the world,” you said as you tugged his arm to get ready.

How the enemy was able to transport a Middengard worm to Winter Court still made faeries scratch their heads to this day. There were also enemy soldiers to worry about, but Rhysand ordered you to help with the monster. According to Rhysand, it was the largest he had ever seen, and its skin was thick and impenetrable. It was getting closer to the city and no matter what the courts shot at it, it never faltered. You joined Kallias and the other fae with ice-manipulation powers to do anything to get the worm away from the city. You slammed a foot down onto the ground and the frozen earth shot upwards hundreds of feet into the sky, creating a barrier for the city.

Kallias grinned at you, and you threw him a wink, you loved using your powers. Running full force toward the worm, you conjured large razor-sharp spears from the snow and made them jut out in the ground in hopes the Middengard would impale itself. It turned out you all severely underestimated the creature, it grew in height and then slammed itself onto the earth allowing it to burrow and move underground. Your jaw dropped in horror as it quickly made its way to the city, the wall you built would not be able to withstand its power. You looked at the gleaming lights of the city and your heart dropped. There were millions of faeries in danger.

Your mind whirred as you looked at all your options and the only thing you could think of didn’t look too good for you.

Rhysand could still remember the panic he felt when his Daemati talons slammed against your thoughts. You were so concentrated; your mental walls were down.

Please don’t do that. It’s too dangerous. There must be another way!

Rhysand’s fae sight let him see your soft smile, your eyes already lined with silver tears.

That’s a whole city, Rhys. you would do the same. Thank you for everything. Tell Azriel I love him.

Rhysand started screaming your name but that didn’t stop you from sprinting toward the Middengard and getting as close as you could. The moment you were above the worm, you let out a strangled scream as you let out every ounce of your power. Your arms were lifted and when your hands tightened into fists, the earth around you and the Middengard caved inwards. The giant earth wall that blocked the city crumbled down as you used all the materials available to bury yourself and the Middengard into the depths of Hel.

Kallias will never forget the sounds of your family screaming for you, he could still hear it in his nightmares. He remembered Morrigan throwing up and the spymaster dumbfoundedly staring into the soil you disappeared in.

***

They never recovered your body. It was too deep into the earth; the High Lords couldn’t even sense the Middengard worm. Rhysand built a beautiful memorial for you by the edge of the city, upon Azriel’s request, he made sure it was placed near the Sidra.

The inner circle was destroyed by your death. Amren had stayed behind to guard Velaris, so she was the last one to find out. No one had ever seen Amren cry but when her family winnowed in without you looking shaken and pale, she crumpled onto the floor and let out a wail that shook the townhouse.

Everything had turned upside down, it rained for a whole month, and it certainly helped no one's mood. The day you died became a court holiday, the people of Velaris mourned you, even some in Illyria and Hewn City. Every year on your death anniversary, the High Lords came to visit your memorial, they brought flowers or expensive bottles of wine that you liked. Beron never showed up, but he always sent a courtier to deliver an extravagant wreath made of autumnal flowers and red and orange leaves. You had once complimented the russet dahlias that lined his estate and he never forgot about it.

Every time Azriel opened his eyes in the morning, he wished for sleep because, in his dreams, you were still alive. Your favorite phrase in the world was “Everything happens for a reason”, it helped you cope with your childhood and the inner circle had adopted it as their mantra. Azriel hated it. He refused to believe that what happened to you was written in the stars. He hated that you had to sacrifice yourself. Why you? Why his mate? He had loved you for so long yet so much time was wasted on others when they could have been together. The pain he felt when the golden thread disappeared was unlike anything he had felt before. Azriel thought he was dead until he saw the earth cave in with you in the middle of it. His shadows were screaming but he was numb, he couldn’t believe you were gone just like that.

Azriel swore the birds had stopped singing in Velaris, his family thought he was crazy but then they noticed it too. There were these songbirds that sang every morning and if you heard it, you whistled back and they’d respond. It was like the natural world knew you were gone. Life without you was duller, the stars didn’t shine as brightly, and the sky wasn’t as blue as it used to be.

Like most things, time was the only remedy. With each year that passed, the pain slowly became bearable. Azriel was encouraged to see other people after a hundred years had passed but nothing went past the first date, no one was ever going to compare to you. He couldn’t touch another female without feeling sick.

The inner circle had gone through so much since you passed, and like clockwork, Cassian went to your memorial to sit and give you updates every week.

‘Rhys was stuck Under The Mountain. Azriel was being a pain in the ass about going to Illyria. Rhys came back from Under The Mountain. Azriel misses you. Rhys found his mate but she’s with Tamlin. Feyre threw a shoe at Rhysand. He met Feyre’s sisters. We miss you. A war with Hybern was coming. Cassian suspected he was mates with Nesta Archeron. The High Lords are having a meeting and we all wish you could be there to contain everyone. I was forced to see Bryaxis, again.’

Sometimes Cassian came with other members of the family but most of the time, it was just him talking to you. One day, Rhysand brought Feyre to your memorial, and she gasped at how beautiful it was. Using his Daemati powers, he showed his mate his most precious memories of you. Feyre squeezed Rhy’s hand and admired all the fresh flowers and gifts that were placed around.

“She was so beautiful and so kind-hearted. I wish I met her.”

“Me too,” he whispered. “You would have loved her.”

The war with Hybern was brutal. If you were still there, you would have tipped the scale and Prythian would have been winning from the get-go. Amren had to unbind herself from her body to save everyone, she was scared in her last few moments but then remembered how selfless and brave you were. The war was over but then Rhysand passed as well, sacrificing himself for the greater good, your last words to him ringing in his ears.

Feyre begged the High Lords to revive her mate and they did, her anguish reminding them of the loss they all felt when a certain Night Court member had passed. With Rhysand alive, he nodded toward the Cauldron, telling them that Amren was there too. Morrigan and Varian fished her out and Amren came out sputtering and desperately trying to gain control of her body. She kept coughing up water, so she furiously pointed to the Cauldron.

“What is it?” cried out Morrigan.

Silver tears started streaming down Amren’s face as she attempted to crawl. “I saw her, she’sin there!” she said desperately. “Get her out before she drowns!”

Every faerie looked at her like she was crazy. Who else would be in there?

Her head swiveled around until she locked into Azriel’s gaze. “She is in there.”

Azriel’s legs carried him toward the Cauldron and not a second later, Morrigan joined him as they blindly reached in. Morrigan started swearing as she felt a limp arm in there, finding the torso, Azriel helped heave the body out of the Cauldron. The female's body thrashed as she coughed out all the water she had swallowed. The High Lords and their courts burst into chaos when Azriel brushed the female’s hair off of her face.

Still dressed in Illyrian leathers, there you lay sprawled and gasping for air.

a/n: Thank you for reading! Call me pathetic but I made myself tear up writing this lmaooo. Should I do a part 2? Please let me know what you think in the comments!

#azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfiction #azriel angst #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel x y/n #rhysand #cassian acotar #amren acotar #morrigan acotar

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marvelsmylife · 2 months

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One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Plot: After the events at your dance recital, Azriel will stop at nothing until you forgive him. Even if it means begging on his knees.

Warning: more and more angst, begging, Cassian having to step in to get his brother under control

A/n this is part two to Damned If You Do, Damned If You Don’t. I really leaned on the trope where the male fae spirals while the female fae heal and thrive without their mate. Since it’s me though, this does have a happy ending for the reader and the shadowsinger. Also, there will be one more part to this.

Part One Part Three Bonus Scene

ACOTAR Masterlist

Request

What was meant to be a few days apart turned into two years. No matter how much you wanted to forgive Azriel for what he did, you couldn’t get past the fact he thought you were cheating on him. You tried explaining that to him, but he didn’t want to hear it. He justified his actions by saying if you would have been home more, he wouldn’t have thought those things.

That, in turn, caused you to make the heartbreaking decision to move out of the home you shared with Azriel. Azriel desperately tried to backpedal and apologize, but it was too late.

You packed your stuff and moved out within three days. With the help of Rhysand, you moved into a highly secure apartment. In Rhysand’s words: “You need to be in a highly secured building. Even if you are no longer with Azriel, you are still his mate, and unfortunately, that means you have a target on your back.”

The others in the inner circle were trying to convince you to move in with them. They knew you were in a vulnerable state mentally and didn’t want to leave you alone. You ultimately told them you needed to live on your own for a while but that they were more than welcome to visit you in your new apartment.

You didn’t dare visit them at their homes though. Some of them begged you to visit and even offered to ban Azriel from their home but you refused. You told them that it wouldn’t be right, seeing as Azriel was friends with them way before you came into their lives.

Because of that, Everyone in the inner circle gave Azriel the cold shoulder for a few weeks. They were livid when they discovered what happened between you and Azriel.

Even Elain, who didn’t have a mean bone in her, scolded Azriel for his actions: “How could you do that to y/n! She’s been nothing but kind and loving towards you. You're lucky I'm not your mate. I would never forgive you,” Elain told Azriel in an angry tone. She despised Azriel the most out of everyone for what he did to you. You were the one Elain spent the most time with, and she really loved your company. Now that you asked for space and stopped visiting them, she started spending time with Cerridwen and Nuala. Which wasn’t a bad thing, she loved them dearly as well, but she missed your little chats about your day: “Let’s hope your mate is more forgiven than me.”

While Azriel was suffering without you in his life, you were living your best life without him.

With the help of Rhysand, you decided to open your own dance studio and started teaching children who couldn’t afford to attend your old dance instructor classes for free.

It was hard at first, but with help from your dance friends and even your old instructor, who eventually apologized for banning you because of Azriel’s actions. He was so happy when he learned you were opening a dance studio for children who couldn’t afford it and even offered to come by every few weeks to teach at your studio. “You are an angel for teaching these kids for free,” your old instructor commented after finishing his class in your studio.

Every now and then, though, you would cross paths with Azriel when you would leave your dance studio, and every time he, would make a scene while he pleaded for you to forgive him.

“I told you not to make a scene in public, especially in front of my studio. You’re making my student uncomfortable,” you tried not to show you were furious at him for his action.

Before Azriel had the opportunity to reply, Cassian and Feyre made their way through the crowd that was now formed around you. “I’m sorry about my brother. I’ll try harder to keep him from coming over here,” Cassian apologized while peeling his brother off of you. Feyre stayed back for a few minutes to make sure you were ok and even offered to walk you back to your apartment, but you reassured her that you were ok.

You managed to avoid him for a week before you came face to face with him again during Elains dinner party, where she and Lucien introduced everyone to their twins.

Elain sent you an apologetic look when you realized Azriel was at the dinner party. You smiled weakly at the new mother before you took your seat between Amren and Cassian and across from Mor.

You felt Azriel’s gaze on you the entire dinner. He looked like utter shit, but he didn’t care, not when it’s been a week since he tried to speak to you again.

You tried your hardest to ignore his stare, but you also couldn’t help but glance at him and really took in his disheveled state. His usually clean-shaven face had stubble with dark circles under his eyes. It took every once in you not to rush over to him and wrap your arms around your mate. The only thing stopping you was the flashback of him accusing you of cheating on him.

After dinner, everyone sat around to pass the twins around. Halfway through the night, you decided to step out and get some fresh air. Unfortunately for you, Azriel took it upon himself to sneak out with you when no one noticed. You were so wrapped up in your thoughts about how awkward you felt being around Azriel that you didn’t realize Azriel decided to hug you from behind. “What the fuck! !” you shouted and broke out of the hug: “Azriel, what are you doing out here!”

Azriel dropped to his knees and hugged your legs out of desperation: “My love, please forgive me. I miss you so much. I can’t function without you in my life.”

“Get up. Everyone is staring at us,” you gritted through your teeth when you looked up and noticed everyone staring at the two of you from inside the house.

“I don’t care,” Azriel argued back: “All I care about is you forgive me.”

Rhysand, Cassian, and Lucien looked like they were about to walk over and pull your mate off you, but you signaled them to not intervene. Instead, you knelt down and cupped Azriel’s face: “Azriel,” you felt yourself tearing up: “You have to stop this.”

“I can’t,” Azriel placed his hands on top of yours: “I can’t function without you. I finally understand where I went wrong, and I’m so sorry I’ve caused you so much distress.”

“I’m so happy you realized it,” you replied, resting your forehead against his: “I just need you to give me time and space. Every time you show up and make a scene outside my studio, you reset my progress of forgiving you. Can you please just give me a few more days? Please.”

“I can do that,” Azriel whispered. “Do you think we’ll ever get back to how we used to be?” Azriel asked hopeful.

“Eventually,” you replied honestly. And that was enough for him to keep going, knowing that you will eventually be a family again.

@byyalady @sheblogs @janebirkln @starsinyourseyes @cumuluscranium @honeybee54321 @pussyistasty-blog @azriels-shadowsinger @anuttellaa @pussyistasty-blog @fightmedraco @aunicornmademedoit @esposadomd @thelov3lybookworm @harrystylesfan2686 @sarawritestories @fxckmiup @sleepylunarwolf @mochibabycakes @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @stargirl1714 @tenshis-cake @tele86 @63angel @sagskylar01 @i-am-infinite @kristin813 @one-big-fangirl

#azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar imagine #acotar x reader

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acourtofmenandthirst · 6 months

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Love You In The Dark

Azriel x Reader, based on Love You In The Dark by Adele :/

Warnings: angst, swearing

Word Count: 2.4K

“Don’t look at me like that.” Your voice was no louder than a whisper, but he didn’t miss how your words came out trembling, or how your dry throat constricted as you spoke.

He shook his head. You had always known he was a male of few words but you didn’t know that he, in that moment, didn’t trust himself to speak. He knew his words would come out broken, shattered on a muffled scream. He had to blink away the tears just to watch you stuff clothes into your bag.

You were ashamed, truly, that it had come to this. That the only solution you could find was to pack your bag and go. No matter how many nights you lay awake, convincing yourself that you were the crazy one, making up stories and rumors, you’d come to the same conclusion.

Leave before he does.

But what you couldn’t do was go without a goodbye. You knew it would be easier to hastily grab your most valued items and disappear into the high mountains of the Night Court without any words exchanged between the two of you.

But you couldn’t.

And he couldn’t stop watching.

Azriel grabbed for you - he reached out those scarred hands, the ones you loved so much - encircled your wrists and tugged you closer to him. But you stood firm, squeezing your eyes shut and shook his hands off of you. And that hurt him, you knew it, shrinking away from his touch like it burned you. He knew the feeling all too well.

You didn’t mean to, after all. You were being cruel to be kind.

It was hard to navigate the small cottage that had become your shared home. His clothing had taken over your wardrobe - you’d fumbled through piles of neatly folded sweaters and shirts that had belonged to him, that smelled so strongly of night and rain, in search of your own items to stuff in your bag.

In the past few years you and Azriel had been dating, he’d moved into your little cottage. It turned into his reprieve, after spending most of his adult life moving around, he’d never had a place to call home. The winged male spent his time flitting between the House of Wind and the townhouse, the Riverside estate and the cold Illyrian war camps. Once he’d spent a few nights with you, it quickly turned into your shared home.

He still spent time away from you, when his High Lord had ordered him as chaperone for their brother and the moody Fae female, but those nights were some of the longest you’d felt. It was no longer just your bed, it was too roomy and far too cold without him. The kitchen no longer smelled of tea first thing in the morning, and everything felt too spacious when there wasn’t a pair of leathery wings taking up all the space.

The male trailed you everywhere you went. He followed you step-for-step as you turned all around the bedroom in search of your clothes, so often strewn about the tiny area; his broad shoulders filled the doorframe as you swiftly grabbed your soap and salves from the bathroom. You knew he could do more to stop you - he was so much stronger than this. He could grab you in those big arms, hold on to you and never let you go. He could cocoon you in those dark wings and wrap the both of you in warmth - safety - like he used to do in the beginning.

But he didn’t.

And that’s why you continued.

He still wouldn’t leave you alone after what you told him. Once you said you were leaving, he hadn’t left your side. He tried to talk you out of it, to promise things would change, that it would get better - he hadn’t known you’d been thinking about this for the past few months. How you were left with no other choice.

It would hurt the male now - the normally stoich, proud Illyrian whose poker face never faltered. You told him late at night, when you were hoping the darkness would conceal the way his lips parted in surprise, the way his brows furrowed in confusion. But those hazel eyes glinted in the moonlight, and you could have sworn you’d never seen them so shiny. You spent the next few seconds - that moved like centuries - convincing yourself that those weren’t tears brimming in his eyes. His arms moved to constrict around you, to reach for you in the bed that you felt go cold many moons ago. You were too quick, already reaching for your bag and shoveling things inside.

You’d bitten your tongue long enough about it, the two new females that had entered your boyfriend’s life. Not only his, of course, but his family’s - and everyone seemed dead set on playing matchmaker. Not in front of you, for that matter, but you heard them talk behind your back about how perfect these other females were for him.

Gwyn, an angel seemingly sent from the Mother above, who so often trained with him, would be the perfect match - body, mind, and soul.

There was an unspoken bond between them already, one that nobody else on the land was privy to knowing besides them. It was something forgotten long ago, but something you saw renewed in those golden blue eyes each time Gwyn looked at Azriel. She gazed at him with admiration, both his fighting style and his calming presence.

If they weren’t discussing training lessons for the day, it was the jokes poking fun at his brother - how he absolutely drooled watching anything Nesta did - or about the newest book she was reading. Azriel, who had seemingly read every book in existence, nodded along, even adding his own commentary on the novel.

He had built up quite the collection between the books he brought into your shared home, a mix between his old worn favorites and the stacks you had lining the walls and tables. But you soon noticed the fantasy and romance books he held on his lap before bed, the pages were worn and well loved, even the paper smelled different. What was sharing books between friends? There was nothing to it - but you couldn’t help but feel the tinge of jealousy turn your chest red.

Then there was Elain, the third Archeron sister, the perfect opposite to Azriel.

You often heard the High Lady whisper to her mate and newfound family: “Three brothers and three sisters - how perfect is that.” Something Azriel just shook his head about - but never outright refusing. You just listened quietly as if you’d never heard anything at all. You pretended not to see the way he gazed at her - the Seer - or the way his fingers brushed hers when she handed over a plate or pastry.

It was those fingers you knew he didn’t like people to see. The hands that you’d spent years trying to get him to touch you with, to not care what they looked like or how rough they felt. They grazed along her pale skin, so smooth and flawless, in the same soft manner he’d touch you - your thighs, your stomach. And as his eyes held her round ones, you wondered if he imagined the way her body felt, the supple curve of her breast or her straight spine. Azriel had an appreciation for the arts, why would he not be with the most beautiful of the sisters?

She always baked for him. She baked for everyone, really, but always insisted he - it was always him - try her treats. Azriel never complained when it came to food, but he never was one for gushing over how sweet the rolls were or how delicious the jam was. But her insistence with feeding him - such an intimate act in Pyrthian, to any Fae, really - didn’t sit right with you.

You hadn’t felt further from him. It seemed that everything was changing. You were, too. Even though you spent nearly every night together, you felt defeated, unable to compare to the new excitement he must have felt with these two females, both fawning over him. His family only encouraged it, too. Even when you spent those nights together, wrapped tightly in his arms, you felt the space between you grow.

Azriel had given you the world - you never thought that you’d have to spend another day of your life without him. But you couldn’t shake that feeling from you. The feeling that he thought about those other females, that he’d wonder what it would be like to be with them, to spend time with them. Those rare times when you’d join them for parties or intimate dinners, you saw their eyes linger on him, on you. And those hazel eyes next to you often fell to one of the two.

You’d never dared to ask him about them.

You knew leaving wasn’t fair. You didn’t bring any of it up until the day you decided to go. He’d only brushed it off, expressing that he wasn’t actually interested in either of them, but rather in the conversation. There were nights he’d stay late at the River House, where you knew all of them resided together as a family. They’d stay up late drinking and laughing, sharing intimate stories and overly friendly touches.

Once he returned home, he offered you a kiss and then crawled into bed next to you, not pulling you into him or laying half-sprawled over your chest like he normally would. You swore you smelled roses on him that night.

You knew he’d never touched either of them. He wouldn’t disgrace you like that. But his family so often brought it up. Possibly being mates with someone they already had known and loved - let it be the Archeron sister or the favored Valkyrie - they all had much more in common anyway, and it would be far preferable than him spending eternity with an outsider such as yourself.

But that wouldn’t stop him from wondering.

You couldn’t carry on like everything was fine.

So you packed your bags, offering Azriel his fair chance at finding who he might think is his mate. Either one of them would be lovely to him - you knew both the females would offer him the world on a silver platter.

The hardest part would be choosing which one.

“Please don’t go, (Y/N),” he whispered, tilting his head down closer to you. He’d followed you from the bathing room back to your bed, and one of his hands fell to your hip.

“Stop asking me to stay,” you replied, ignoring his touch and continuing with your packing - you were almost done.

He swallowed the lump in his throat - you saw it. His eyes flitted between the two of yours, dragging down to your lips. “And stop looking at me like that,” you added, breathlessly. So you had to break the trance, blinking away any tears that threatened to pool in your eyes.

Azriel almost laughed. The breath came out jagged, loose from his lips, but he could barely stifle the exasperation. “There will never be a day when I don’t look at you like this, (Y/N).” His voice was low but unwavering.

“It’s not you, Azriel,” you huff, resisting the urge to throw everything in your arms to the ground. “It’s not the way you look at me or how you don’t - it’s how you look at them.” His brows knitted in confusion. “The way you treat them is the same way you treat me and - ” you huffed a sigh. “I can’t do it anymore.”

He did lose it - he grabbed your arms - palms hot, burning with emotion. “They aren’t you, (Y/N).”

You stared up at him, anger washing over your sadness. “But you treat them like they are!” Everything fell from your hands as you shook out of his grasp. Taken aback, Azriel straightened and watched you closely. “Do you know how long it took for us to get here? For you to even talk to me? Touch me?” You stifled the urge to pull at your hair. “I feel so defeated - watching you joke and laugh with them. You and I are so far apart now - you’re a whole new person!”

He shook his head, black hair shifting slightly with the motion. “I’m not - we should talk about this. You can’t bottle everything up and then just leave.”

“I’m not just leaving, though, Azriel.” His heart thudded at how you said his name - how you spat it like it burned our tongue. “I’ve been in the dark for so long - you never bring me around your family - because you know they don’t like me.” You cut him off before he could interject. “They keep trying to set you up with Elain or Gwyn! I know what they say behind my back, Azriel, you aren’t the only one who knows the secrets of that River House.”

Azriel’s chest heaved with each stabbing breath he forced into his lungs. His hands flexed at his sides as he held himself back - he wanted to grab you, throw you onto the bed, cage you under his body so you had no choice but to hear him out. He wanted to kiss you, to hold you, to tell you that you were so fucking wrong and he would always choose you over them - over his family.

But he couldn’t.

And he didn’t.

So you took a step back and grabbed the leather bag from the bed. Whatever you already had was good enough - you could rebuy whatever else you needed. Besides, it would probably be better to leave anything that would remind you of the male you were leaving behind. Mother above - if that were the case, you’d truly be leaving with nothing at all.

“I meant what I said, Azriel, every word.” He was surprised at your sudden shift in tone, as your voice fell to a whisper. His shadows hissed in his ears, expecting more yelling - hell they were about to start screaming at him, too. “I love you - I don’t regret a gods damned thing.”

“I love you, (Y/N),” his voice cracked. Those hazel eyes were glazed over with silver, finally realizing you’d had this prepared. It was premeditated, you’d fallen out of love with him long ago.

“But I want to live, Azriel. Not in anyone’s shadow, and not while every one of your family members tries to arrange marriage for you.”

Azriel had never lied to you. He wouldn’t start now. There was nothing he could do to stop their silly gossip, to stop wishing for their friends to flirt with him - not without breaking the family he’d worked so hard to build. “What am I supposed to do without you?”

“You’ll survive.”

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