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dcxdpdabbles · 23 days

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Am going feral for Danny's grill, I'm salivating for another part, perhaps the batfams reactions to Tim's theory of Danny being fae and just "ohh oh that tracks, that tracks a little too well, but atleast he's a nice fae? Also I vainly remember Constantine drunkenly complaining about a pariah being a bitch king so maybe Danny is actually fae royalty which is why he can afford to be nice??"

Sry for rambling ♡

Tim's investigation updates are alarming, to put it nicely. Bruce can't say he's thrilled by how his son discovered a new Fae court or that his son is now untraceable within the said court.

He would think Tim was missing if it weren't for the reports he finds at family information locations. Thankfully, the fae seemed benevolent—at least for now.

Bruce would be the first to admit that he did not like how, out of all his kids, Tim always seemed to get involved with the oddest of missions.

Reading the Young Justice reports always gave him a headache- baseball game for the plant? Accidentally killed Santa Claus?!? - So, he not only figured out a Fae had appeared in Gotham but also ate the food the Fae offered him? Yeah, that was his Tim.

Bruce had picked up Tim's progress reports before anyone else. His other children were focused on a missing person case and their own cases.

Bruce figured that as long as Tim was treated right, he could spend time searching for a way to get his son home safely without worrying about the others. He has spoken with every member of the Justice League Dark, interviewed any god or goodness in the Justice League, and done extensive research on Faes themselves.

Almost everything had given him the same result: A human could be returned from the Other World only if the Fae allowed it.

It's not impossible to trick a Fae into releasing Tim, but it must be delicately done. Those types of beings rarely forgive and never forget.

He had planned for this to happen to him long before he became Batman—after all, he knew those creatures were real after learning of Aliens—but each of his plans to escape the Fae had an "It's alright if I die" in progress.

He could not apply those plans to Tim, as he did not care if his son lived.

He was replaying his interview with John Consitiante- seeing as that man had a lot of practice swinging his soul as a bargaining chip- when Jason came stomping down the stairs.

"I can't find him!" He swears, throwing himself in a computer chair with a huff. Bruce lowers the volume on his computer, making a sound in the back of his throat. It's the usual noise he makes to convey to his children he is listening and is curious about what is upsetting them

Jason, easily able to understand his sounds now, ranks a hand through his hair with a scoff. "The favor one of my contacts called in. Alvin Draper. I can't find anything on him before my contact took him in"

"Could be a fake name," Bruce offers, typing into his search engine some keywords John spilled in his drunken state. He reads over the runes that pulled up while considering Jason's words. "He gave your contact his name in the same breath as his work. He would unlikely have trusted him that much, so he creates a false name to cover up his street name, which he only gives to customers. His birth name is even less spoken."

"Yeah, I thought the same, so I took the initiative to look at anyone working in his usual areas. Some working girls who answer to me have also asked around. Anyone even remotely matching the description has been tracked down and kept safe, but none were the target. I've even had the others look into it just in case the few corner boys didn't trust Red Hood would be more forthcoming with information. Nothing. Zip. Nada! I'm not an amateur, Bruce. " Jason snarks and Bruce fights off the wave of pride. Of course, his children were able to do all that without him. His kids were incredible at their work.

"No one has seen or heard of Alvin within the industry. If he's a corner boy, he's a private one. Those are the worst because it usually means the clients are crazy powerful and extra careful to not be seen."

Bruce pauses, mind rushing at lightning speed. "Power, not seen and....does this Alvin Draper happen to work on these streets?"

He pulls up a map with various colored dots on it. Bruce had been carefully tracking down where Tim and his Fae had been going through. Tim mainly stayed at the Fae's manor but was allowed to go out to work. One of the reasons Bruce truly believed it was benevolent.

If he ignored the information in the packages, it seemed like Tim was taking some personal time off. His other children surely thought so. They all just laughed at the fact Tim was not about but was still solving the most cases out of all of them.

It was primarily remote work, which Bruce didn't mind. Tim needed a vacation from Red Robin and Wayne Enterprises' CEO.

"Yes!" Jason gasps, leaning towards the map. "How did you find all the targeted areas? My contact said Alvin moved almost every night."

Bruce weighs his options before carefully admitting. "It wasn't my intention to get Alvin's area. I have been tracking a new Fae court that followed these paths."

There was a significant pause before Jason asked with great patience. "There is a what in Gotham?"

"A Fae."

"...Okay, and how long has this been in our city?"

"About two months now."

Jason takes a deep breath. He reaches around Bruce to press the communications line, which he presses four times. At once, the cave is filled with the noise of his children going about their night- either in or out of costume.

All but Tim, since he is still within the Fae's castle. It's a setback that Bruce can't find the castle, even after Tim tells him exactly where it is with coordinates.

He assumes that he, as a human, has no access to the building. Nothing on his computers or tests proves that there is a building there, but Tim swears that's where he's been.

"We have Faes in Gotham. B. has known about them for two months," Jason announces, cutting everyone off. The lines go very silent, and Bruce blinks, confused when he can pick up some anger in his children's silence.

"B?" Dick says in that You better tell me everything right now, old man voice. It's the strangely sickly sweet tone he uses that disguises danger.

Bruce is mystified. Why is he angry? "Two months ago, Tim informed me that a stranger had caught his attention and that he was going undercover. He mostly noticed inconsistencies with his target, but it was only after following the suspect home that he realized the man was not human-"

"Father, are you saying a Fae has Red Robin?" Damian interrupted which is unusual. His youngest almost never does that; he's far too polite and disciplined.

"Yes. He's been in his castle the whole time he's been away."

"Did he eat anything the Fae gave him!?" Duke's cries sounded almost hysterical.

"Yes, he has been there for two months. Tim needed to eat."

"RR has been gone for almost three months, B.!" Harper snaps. She was out as Bluebird for the first time in a while. Her college assignments were really cutting into her hero time.

"Is he okay?" Cullen asks quietly. Bruce had always suspected the lad had a crush on his son, flushing deep red whenever Harper brought him over.

"He is fine. Tim has kept contact with me and seems to be thriving with the Fae. I have been working to get the being to give him back without causing him harm."

"That's what all the research you've been doing lately was about?" Barbara demands.

Bruce squints at the screens where voice lines are beside the images of his children. He doesn't know why but understands that even she is cross with him. "Yes."

"Master Bruce, we will be having a conversation later," Alfred hisses- actually hisses, and Bruce feels cold, hard dread slip down his spine. Oh no. Had he done something wrong again?

Should he not mention his theory that Tim and Alvin are one in the same? Would that make things worse or better?

Jason lets loose a series of swears in Spanish. He leans against the table, pitching his voice loud enough that the rest of the Bats can hear him. "Crude, I think the Fae collects people with the same physical characteristics. Tim and Alvin are known as people of the same height, eye color, age, hair color, and even skin color."

Dick, Damian, Duke, and Harper all swear in their own native tounges, which makes Bruce fight the urge to sink down. Yes, it is better not to mention his other theory of Jason's contact being said, Fae.

Not until he has proof, at least.

"Let me guess." Steph chimes in with a sigh. "Tim followed the Fae because he's pretty."

Bruce remains stubbornly silent, but he thinks that Tim finds the Fae or "Danny" quite handsome. Why else would he spend three paragraphs of his report describing Danny's hair?

"I think we all need to come together to work on this," Dick says next, voice taking charge. Bruce's pride and adoration for the children grow a few notches higher when they all agree without thought.

"Who knows what Tim or Alvin are going through."

Meanwhile, Tim sighed as one of Danny's "hired" help carefully worked out some knots in his back. How long has it been since he had a spa day? Too long. "Was that too rough?"

"No, it's the perfect pressure."

"Wonderful. After we are done here, would you prefer a mud bath or a soothing seaweed wrap?"

"Oh, a mud bath for sure."

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Danny's grill #Part 4 #Bruce has a little of the tism #He doesn't know what is concerned good conversation #Bruce figured it out after one convo with Jason #He tells no one #The Bats are panicking that a Fae has Tim #Tim is being pampered

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readychilledwine · 3 months

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Hiii helloooo. Back with another request that popped into my brain if it interests you enough to write it into existence ✨ so Az lives in an apartment/condo in velaris that he rents from an old high fae lady who owns the building and she also lives there with her granddaughter (YN/reader/OC) who is def his mate but they dance around it for her sake (and her poor old grandmother’s lol) since she’s still young for a fae. Oh and idk why but I imagine Az having a cat that reader takes care of while he’s on missions. Once a week, without fail, Az has breakfast with the old lady and her granddaughter. If he’s going on an extended mission, he always lets them know he won’t make it and he tells them in person or sends his shadows with the message. One time, he gets severely injured before he’s able to send word that he won’t make it to breakfast. The old lady sends her granddaughter to the townhouse to look for Az and feyre or cassian answers the door and is completely baffled that a girl and her cat are asking around for the spymaster. Like “well he didn’t come for breakfast today and he ALWAYS comes for breakfast and grandma was worried and so was (insert cute cat name) and she wouldn’t stop yowling so I had to bring her to look for him too” reader is def an awkwardly endearing rambler. (And if the cat is buddies with his shadows that would be totally adorable too 🥹) and then maybe it ends off with her (gently) smacking azriel upside the head while he’s on his sickbed healing because how dare he not tell her and her grandma that he was going to get injured and miss their weekly breakfast 😡 feel free to change anything up if you end up writing it!!

The Breakfast Club

Summary - After missing breakfast unexpectedly, a hidden relationship is revealed to Azriel's family, who can't tell if they're more surprised by you or his cat.

Warnings - mentions of injury, stray kitten mentioned, fluff

💙Peep the Azriel Masterlist here💙

To say you were nervous as you approached the High Lord's townhouse was an understatement.

In the 4 all too short and unexpected years of knowing Azriel, the last of which had been spent as much more than just friends, he had never missed breakfast with you and your grandmother. And if he had, it had come with a note or prior notice.

He had not shown up today, breaking your grandma's heart as she had prepared his favorites. It had set worry into your heart, though. Worry you masked as the two of you ate in deafening silence.

You two had hidden the growing romance so well. You didn't want to ruin the illusion now and risk your grandmother becoming protective over your youth and, of course, his reputation and profession.

You held his black kitten closer to you, kissing her little white paws as she mewed softly. She had protested you leaving his apartment to look for him without her, wanting to live up to her name as you tucked her into the hooded jacket you had custom-made to carry the kitten.

The poor baby probably missed her owner, her constant companion, more than she could truly express. You were used to caring for her when he was gone, but he normally always left one or two shadows for her to play with, and today, they were gone.

You'd had a whole explanation planned, rehearsing it quietly on the walk here over and over, but it went out the window the second you opened your mouth. You rushed through the words, stumbling over them as you looked down and away from him. "EverysundayAzrielhasbreakfastwithmygrandmaandIbuthedidn'tshowuptodayandInjstwantedtoknow-"

You shook the feeling of dread building in your stomach and knocked. You would be lying if you said you were not scared when the High Lord himself answered his own door studying you like a textbook. "What can I help you with?"

Rhysand held a hand up to you, scenting the faint smell of cedar and night air that clung to you and smirking before masking it. "Breathe. Start over slower." He tilted your head up to him. "And look at me when you speak to me. You are not a mouse."

You took two deep breaths, cradling Dective Mittens closer. "My grandmother owns the apartment complex Azriel lives in," the High Lord's lip twitched, the final confirmation he needed. "And every Sunday, he had breakfast with us. The only time he doesn't, he lets us know with a shadow or a note or verbally before he leaves. He did not come today, and he was supposed to be back 3 days ago. I just wanted to know if you've heard from him?"

"You're the female he's been missing family brunch for." It wasn't a question. Just a statement. Rhysand kicked off the door frame. "Come inside. He's here. He's hurt, but he will be fine." He glared towards the small kitten in your arms. "And where did that come from?"

"Detective Mittens?" He nodded, continuing to glare. "Azriel's cat? You didn't know he had a cat? She got upset when I tried to leave her in his apartment, so I brought her with me so she'd stop crying and yowling."

Rhys pinched his noses, shoulders shaking as he chuckled. "And who named Detective Mittens?"

"Azriel? It was Detective Mittens or Princess Buttercup. She isn't a Buttercup."

His eyes were watering from laughter, shoulders fully shaking as he led you further into the house and up the stairs. He held his arms out, nodding towards the cat as he stepped in front of a room. "Stay behind me," the High lord entered with a casual grace, stopping a conversation between two deep voices. Azriel's and one you didn't know.

The black collar with a small piece of Azriel's siphon was barely visible among Mittens's long black fur. She finally freed herself, leaping into the bed and walking to lay on Azriel's chest. "How did you get here, baby?"

Mittens was immediately squirming and clawing, desperate to get to her owner and get the cuddles she had been missing. "Did you go outside and pick up a random cat, Rhysie?" A large illyrian male, Cassian, you realized, sat staring with a brow up. "Or did you steal someone's cat? It has a collar."

"Some pretty little thing was at the door. Dropped the cat off and then ran away."

A shadow had already found you, twirling into your hand and ripping you towards Azriel the best it could by itself. Soon, two more joined, then three more, then your whole arm was swallowed in darkness, pulling you to the side of the bed Cassian was not occupying. "Y/n," it came out as soft surprise, happiness underlying the tone. "Angel, what are you doing here?"

"It's Sunday." The answer hit him, and his head fell back, eyes shutting as Cassian and Rhys shared a look.

He tried to sit up, only to be stopped by Cassian's arms, guiding him back down as he winced in pain. "Angel, I'm so sorry. I-"

"Don't apologize for getting hurt," Cassian said gently. The general looked at you. "Breakfast girl?" You nodded. "One. Breakfast was mine and Azriel's thing first until you showed up," a playful glare went your way. "Two. We dropped the ball. He was hurt. Bad. And we knew he was seeing someone, but it's been kept so secret by a certain spymaster that we couldn't contact you."

"Should have just spoken to the complex owner," Rhys muttered under his breath.

You nodded. "And, will you be okay?"

Azriel was focused in Mittens, scratching her ears as she rolled over, exposing the fur of her tummy and waiting. The three of you stared in silence, watching as he cooed and baby spoke to her. Watching as a few tears slipped. "Missed you so much, my little baby. Aw, look at that belly. Y/n been doing the best job keeping it full and happy, huh?"

Rhys and Cassian both hid their smiles, the High Lord motioning for the general to leave the room. You sat on the bed, taking his free hand in yours, bringing it to your cheek and holding it there. "I was so worried."

Mittens moved to the window as if she suspected you two needed room, allowing you two alone time before she'd be back to cover Azriel in her love and warmth.

He wanted to sit up, to hold you close, but every slight movement of his core had nerves screaming in hot agony. He'd never mock Cass for being a bitch while hid guts were hanging out ever again. He settled for moving his hand to your neck, pulling you close and resting your foreheads together. "Im so sorry, y/n," he kissed your nose, eyes closing as yours did. "I got distracted, and it happened so fast I couldn't get word out."

Your hands came to rest on his bandaged chest. "What happened? You never get distracted." He smiled, a rare beautiful thong he hid from everyone but you.

"You accidently tugged the bond when you and Mittens were playing, and all I could think of was getting home to be with you two. Did you catch that stray?" He changed the subject, looking at you with hopeful eyes.

A small orange tabby had been roaming around the apartments. Short little fur "doing nothing," in Azriel's words, to protect it from the Night chill. Azriel has been smitten with it since it allowed him to feed him and get a few scratched in before a shop owner scared it away.

That was over a month ago, and you two had been playing a slow game of seduction with the kitten, praying to the cat distribution powers that they'd allow this little one to trust you both the way Mittens grew to.

"I did. He's in my apartment. Him and Mittens get along really well." As of hearing her name, a mass of black fur launched herself onto the bed, curling up on Azriel's leg that was closet to you and purring. "I named him Investigator Whiskers."

You watched Azriel melt, groaning with a smile at the matching name. You could feel through that string his growing happiness as the same family you two had accidentally made grew, too. "I love you," he whispered softly with no sign of the ice Rhys had so loudly accused him of having in his heart.

"I love you, too. I'm glad you're going to be okay." Rhys and Cassian came back in to you two resting your foreheads against each other again, eyes shut, heart beats synced in time.

It made it even more comical to them when Azriel thought nothing of your hand moving up his arm, rest in his hair before you pulled away, and smacked him. "Ow! Y/n! What the fuck!"

"That," you smirked as you caught his hand that came to playfully tug your hair, "is for worrying my grandma. She made your favorites! You broke her heart! She thinks you hate us!"

"I was hurt!"

"Excuses, excuses!" He pulled you into him, not caring if the good of you had an audience and kissed you deeply. "Mmmm, forgiven," you muttered when he pulled away.

Azriel sighed. "Rhys, can you go get grandma. I think we need to tell her some things. And have lunch."

"Lunch sounds nice," Cassian said as he took his seat and glared at you. "Breakfast theif."

"Boyfriend theif," you shot back.

The room turned into you and Cassian having a playful argument as Azriel watched, fingers scratching behind soft velvety ears. He looked at Rhys, eyes warm with joy and happiness as Rhys looked between you and Cassian, who had fallen together like a puzzle. I like her, Rhys said into his mind. Keep her.

That's the plan, Azriel replied.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr

@elle4404

Azriel Taglist-

A/n-

Picture of my and baby daddy's kitten to pay the cat tax gods 💕

#acotar #acotar x reader #send asks #send requests #send ideas #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster

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glossamerfaerie · 1 month

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One aspect of Gwynriel that really excites me is religion. The other protagonists don’t seem to take religion or rituals very seriously? Everyone respects the Mother and acknowledges her power (and the Cauldron), but we haven’t explored faith among the fae. Feyre has a terrible experience with Ianthe (a sadly accurate depiction of corruption within organized religion). But we know that not all priestesses are like power-hungry Ianthe. Nesta is understandably indifferent even though she later has an experience with the Mother during Nyx’s birth. Rhys and Cassian seem respectful but we’ve never seen them pray or attend services. It’s giving “only attending church during Christmas” level of religious commitment.

Azriel, on the other hand… we haven’t had much canon insight in his head, but I firmly believe that Azriel is more religious than his brothers. Like he’s not the type to attend temple services, but he probably thinks about faith and the Mother regularly. Clearly he has contemplated mating bonds and who creates them — maybe he’s prayed for a mating bond? Maybe his mother raised him to be more religious. In HOFAS, after Nesta takes the mask off in a close call, Az’s very first instinct is to thank the Mother. Possibly that is meaningless (like how an atheist can say “thank god”) but idk. Az seems to have more faith than his brothers.

“The Mask fell from Nesta’s face, clattering on the stone.

Nesta swayed, but Azriel was there, catching her, bringing her to his chest, scarred hands stroking her hair. “Thank the Mother,” he breathed. “Thank the Mother.”

A few chapters later, Az describes the Cauldron and what happens after death.

“Bryce nodded to the carving. “What’s the big deal about a cauldron?”

“The Cauldron,” Azriel amended. Bryce shook her head, not understanding. “You don’t have stories of it in your world? The Fae didn’t bring that tradition with them?”

Bryce surveyed the giant cauldron. “No. We have five gods, but no cauldron. What does it do?”

“All life came and comes from it,” Azriel said with something like reverence. “The Mother poured it into this world, and from it, life blossomed.”

Later in the conversation, Az explains what happens to souls after death.

“When you die, where do your souls go?” Did they even believe in the concept of a soul? Maybe she should have led with that.

But Azriel said softly, “They return to the Mother, where they rest in joy within her heart until she finds another purpose for us. Another life or world to live in.”

The way Az talks about the Mother, with reverence and confidence, makes me certain that he’s more religious than his brothers.

Then, of course, we have Gwyn — a literal priestess who was raised in a temple. She still attends daily services and sings for the choir. I’ve wondered if what happened in Sangravah shook Gwyn’s faith. Maybe she thinks the Mother exists but isn’t a benevolent deity. Maybe she’s bitter that the Mother didn’t save her servants from Hybern attacks. She definitely feels shame and unworthiness — Gwyn no longer feels like she has a right to wear the Invoking Stone. Working through those feelings will be a major aspect of Gwyn’s arc.

“You asked me once why I don’t wear the hood or the Invoking Stone. That stone is a sign of holiness. How can someone like me wear it?”

Within the temple, Gwyn also faces prejudice and discrimination from her fellow sisters. Ianthe isn’t the only asshole within the organization (cough Merrill cough). I’m sure that some people in Sangravah were cruel to Gwyn’s family because of their nymph heritage. I don’t know what SJM has planned, but I feel that religion will play a major role in the Gwynriel book. I wouldn’t be surprised that, like Nesta, Gwyn has a firsthand experience with the Mother. She will definitely use the blue invoking stone for healing (a nice parallel to Az’s blue siphons).

“It’s an Invoking Stone.” Gwyn unfurled her fingers, revealing the gem within her hand. “Similar to the Siphons of the Illyrians, except that the power of the Mother flows through it. We cannot use it for harm, only healing and protection. It was shielding us.”

I’m also curious to see Gwyn and Az discuss their religious beliefs together. Maybe Az gets permission to join the dawn and dusk services. The man barely sleeps, he might as well watch Gwyn during her religious commitments. The shadows are NOT going to pass a chance to hear their girl sing (or watch her glow). Maybe Nesta can talk Az into singing with the choir. 🥹

Nesta could only gape at the lovely melody, the voices from the front of the cavern leading it, lifting higher than the others. Gwyn sang, chin high, a faint glow seeming to radiate from her. The music was pure, ancient, by turns whispering and bold, one moment like a tendril of mist, the next like a gilded ray of light. It finished, and Merrill spoke about the Mother and the Cauldron and the land and sun and water. She spoke of blessings and dreams and hope. Of mercy and love and growth.

Idk, maybe I’m wrong about Az being religious. But it feels like such a wasted opportunity if we don’t learn more about the Mother! At the very least, I do see Az attending the dawn and dusk services if he’s not on a mission. 🎼🩵🎶

#gwynriel #my acotar thoughts #pro gwyn #gwyneth berdara #azriel #gwyn x azriel #nesta archeron #hofas spoilers #house of flame and shadow #acotar #a court of silver flames

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vinelark · 5 months

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in return for the fic recs i got last month, here are a few fics i read recently that i want to absolutely yell about from the rooftops:

Iron, Fire, Mirror-Glass by PurpleSoot: an early batman days AU where, while slowly healing from a spine-shattering injury, bruce finds an old book about the fae. in a fit of desperation he attempts a Summoning to try to heal his spine. enter: robin.

this story is fantastic—the kind of longfic with a plot so good and satisfying that finishing it leaves you on a reading high for at least a week. one of the best early days bruce fics i’ve ever read, with honorable mentions to excellent alfred and clark and jim and selina characterizations—but robin (dick) really takes the cake here. the balance of chilling, otherworldly, not-quite-human vs. playful, earnest, Still Just a Child…chef’s kiss. the way robin’s character arc drags bruce kicking and screaming through his own emotional growth is so well-paced and well-wrought that i already want to reread just so i can experience it again. this is one of those god-tier longfics that i can’t believe i got to read for free on the internet.

mid-reading testimonial:

The Lone Ranger Never Had to Deal with Bruce Wayne by @theskeptileptic: a tim-joins-the-family-early fic in which tim decides to do everyone (his parents) a solid by faking his own death and running away to canada, except his weirdo neighbor bruce wayne keeps butting in and messing up his plans.

this is one of the rare stories where tim doesn’t know batman’s identity yet, and even rarer stories where that somehow makes the whole thing even more compelling. this fic has two of my favorite things: small, lonely, moderately unhinged tim drake pov, and really good pangs—pangs that are expertly teased out through flashbacks that add context to the present action at exactly the right moments. also, a very fun cameo near the end. i had a blast reading this one, physically clutched my chest more than once, and am already looking forward to rereading.

mid-reading testimonial (feat. @cairoscene):

equivalent exchange by scribblemetimbers (wip): an au set during tim’s robin days in which tim discovers 1) crossroads demons are a thing and 2) people can make deals with them. deals that include bringing people back from the dead, so long as you’re willing to pay the price with your own life.

this fic is so…🤌‼️ it feels like everything i want in a fic so far, down to two incredibly specific concepts i love (bruce, in his grief, saying something harsh to robin!tim with disastrous consequences later + tim making a big secret sacrifice gambit) which are both done so so well, within a larger plot that is also done so so well. the way this fic cuts in and out of scenes at the exact right moments for max tension feels like a masterclass in causing me to tear my hair out (in the best way), and instead of assorted pangs reading it is just one big Pang. it currently leaves off on an agonizing cliffhanger but, again, in the best way. highly recommend. (thank you again @owlbats for the rec!)

exchange between me and my friend after i sent the link, which about sums it up:

and to cut this angst with some humor:

IRIS Log #1548 by @deadchannelradio: a night on patrol as recorded by the bats’ audio logs, centering around red hood getting flung into a ditch and everyone, eventually, getting home safe.

one of the top ten funniest things i’ve ever read—spiritually up there with send to all (and if you’ve seen my fic rec tag you’ll know what a compliment that is). this makes use of the audio log format SO well. the dialogue shines, the jokes land with excellent timing, and it moves at such a clip that it’s pretty much impossible to stop reading once you’ve started. every character shines in this, and i’ve randomly choked on laughter remembering the phrase ‘good god he got thrown like a corn hole beanbag’ like twenty times in the past few weeks.

mid-reading testimonial:

#every time i sit down to do a general reclist it gets so long and i get overwhelmed because i want to write an essay for each one #i had a rec thread going on twitter for a while and it was also getting so long even though i stopped months ago #i should do these monthly. there are so many fics i would love to yell from the rooftops about #anyway these rock!! happy reading!!!#batfam #fic rec

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anonymous-dentist · 3 months

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Or: Prince Roier Hires a Faerie to Help With His Divorce (he hasn't gotten married yet)

For day two of @smallchaoscryptid's Spiderbit Week - Fae/Kiss

Once upon a time...

Roier picks his way through the foliage with a grimace. His feet hurt, twigs keep smacking into his face, bugs keep flying into his mouth. This sucks, but it'll all be worth it.

Thunder rolls above, and rain starts pouring down without a second's warning.

...It'll all be worth it.

He's due back at the castle by morning, but, honestly, he'd kinda rather die than go back. If the wolves eat him, so be it!

Grumbling, he pulls his hood up over his head, and he continues onward. If he freezes to death out here, so be it!

He's not planning on going back to the castle alive, anyway.

Legend has it that, deep in the haunted forest surrounding the Kingdom of Quesadilla, there lives a man-eating witch capable of tearing a man's soul from his body before he can so much as breathe in her general direction. Nobody knows this witch's name, but everybody knows that she's totally fucked up: if she isn't eating people, she's eating bears, and her magic is said to be as destructive as the eruption that created the universe.

Roier needs to meet her now.

So he continues trudging through the woods. The lantern in his hand is fighting to stay lit, and his boots are filled with enough water to drown a rat with, but he's fine. He's going to die miserable, but he's fine.

There's a flash of lightning bright enough to blind him, and then there's a crash of thunder loud enough to make him jump and nearly drop his lantern. When his vision returns, the tree in front of him is toppled to the side, leaving only a charred and smoking stump behind.

And then there's the cat.

Roier, frankly, stares. Because... what?

It's a cute cat, at least: brown with black stripes almost like a tiger's and blue eyes so bright that they almost seem to glow in the night. It sits on the stump with its tail curled around its paws, very polite, 10/10 cat.

Hesitantly, Roier approaches. He holds the lantern up to the cat, tilts his head, smiles.

"You're so cute," he coos, bending down to pet the cat between its little ears. "What are you doing out here, eh?"

The cat yawns, and then it huffs, "I could ask you the same question."

Roier screams and recoils and drops his lantern. It goes out, but the forest doesn't grow any dimmer because the cat is fucking glowing now, okay. Okay!

The cat rolls its eyes, tail twitching. "Okay, ouch. I'm not that scary."

"You're a talking cat," Roier breathes. "What the fuck?"

"What, you were expecting the witch?"

A pause.

Then:

"Oh, come on!"

Roier finally collects himself, brushing the water off of his cloak and adjusting his hood and picking up his lantern.

The cat stands and starts pacing the stump in a small, annoyed circle.

"The witch isn't even real," it complains. "She never was! Witches aren't real!"

Roier frowns. "Fuck you, man, my best friend is a witch."

"They aren't. Witches aren't real. Magicians are real, but witches-"

"You are literally a talking cat."

"I am a faerie," the cat corrects, sounding almost pained as it does so. "Faeries are real. Witches are fake. It's all anti-faerie propaganda created by the Federation-"

"By the what?"

The cat flicks his tail at Roier; Roier's mouth shuts, and, to his alarm, he finds that he can't open it again no matter how hard he tries.

The cat angrily swipes a leaf off of the stump. Unfortunately, it is really cute as it does so.

But then it starts complaining again, and Roier decides that this annoying fucking faerie cat isn't that cute after all.

"I haven't eaten anybody in centuries!" the cat shouts. "Fucking Cucurucho..."

Roier's eyes widen.

He waves at the cat until the cat does its magic thing again and allows him to talk.

First, Roier sucks in a deep breath through his mouth. That was uncomfortable.

Then, he says, "I know Cucurucho. I'm supposed to marry him in three days."

The cat's eyes narrow. Its shadow beneath it seems to grow; it tinges itself red like a pool of water with blood in it, wow. That's almost cool.

"That's why I'm here," Roier explains. "I need the witch to kill me so I don't have to marry him."

The cat sits.

"I see," it says. "Unfortunately, the witch isn't real."

"Suuuure, but you are." Roier sneaks closer. "Can't you just-" He opens his hands and wiggles his fingers. "-magic me dead?"

The cat stares at Roier's fingers. "Um. No. Faeries can't kill."

Roier deflates. "Ugh."

With a frustrated groan, he sits on the stump next to the cat. The cat grumbles, but it doesn't, like, magic him onto the ground, so that's kinda nice of it.

"But," the cat says, slowly as if questioning itself as it speaks, "I can get you to kill for me."

Oh. Now there's a thought. But...

Roier looks to the side at the cat. "I've tried. I'm pretty sure he's immortal, man."

"You haven't tried killing him with faerie magic. Now, come here."

The cat hops off of the stump and pads into the forest. After a moment, Roier follows.

They walk until they reach a hollowed-out tree. Then, the cat hops into the tree and mutters to itself as it looks for something.

Eventually, the cat pokes its head out of the tree with an opaque brown bottle held in its mouth.

Roier takes the bottle and turns it over in his hands.

"This," the cat says, "is extract of unicorn. Mix this in with Cucurucho's food, and he'll be dead by the end of the night."

Roier's mouth twitches. It'll happen, just like that? Just like that? Decades of oppression over just. Like. That?

"Okaaayyy," Roier drawls. He looks back up at the cat with a small smile. "Thank you."

The cat responds by clambering out of the tree and lounging on a branch hanging by Roier's face.

"No, thank you," the cat insists. "You'll be doing us both a favor if you manage to kill that asshole."

"If this kills him, you'll be a hero."

"Oh, I'm no hero. I'm just..." (The cat grins with far too many teeth in its mouth.) "...an invested party."

Well, the cat is probably evil. But that's fine. So is Cucurucho, and two wrongs make a right, right?

Well, wrong! Because Cucurucho isn't fucking dead.

Roier stomps back to the tree stump with the faerie's empty unicorn piss whatever bottle in hand. He doesn't have a lantern this time because, frankly, he really isn't intent on returning to the castle this time. If he trips over a root and dies, so be it!

The cat is nowhere to be seen. Of course, the bastard.

"Gatinho!" Roier calls. He cups both hands around his mouth and spins in a circle and continues shouting, "Gatinho! Where the fuck are you! Come here!"

No response.

Frustrated, Roier chucks the bottle to the ground and plops onto the stump. He puts his head in his hands and groans.

"I am going to fucking die," he moans. "I can't go home, I need to die, what the fuck."

A twig snaps. A presence ghosts over his shoulder, what feels like fingers grazing his tunic. But, when he snaps his head up and turns around, all he sees is the cat sitting behind him.

Roier's eyes narrow. "You."

"Me," the cat agrees. "Did it work? Is he dead? Please tell me he's dead. He's dead, right?"

"No! He isn't! He thought that unicorn shit was edible glitter! Now he wants it at the wedding!"

The cat blinks. "Huh."

"Yeah, 'huh'." Roier huffs and turns back around and hides his face again. "Fuck you, man. You said it would kill him."

"It should've. He's a demon, right?"

"How should I know? He's a fucking bear wizard thing."

"Okay, again, wizards aren't real, magicians are. But you're marrying him, right? How do you not know what species he is?"

"It's not like I'm getting a choice in the matter," Roier spits. He glares into the palms of his hands, shoulders shaking with barely-concealed rage. "Either I marry him or he destroys the kingdom."

There's a pregnant pause as the cat takes this information in. Fair, honestly. Roier hadn't exactly told him that he's a prince. Wasn't important, still isn't important. Doesn't matter if he's a prince if he's being sold off to marry a goddamn bear like he's a common animal.

It's for the good of the kingdom, Foolish had said. He and Vegetta have always liked Cucurucho despite Cucurucho being a legendary fucking creep. It's either you or Leo.

And Roier isn't the one that's meant to take the throne after his parents die.

"Can't you just kill me?" Roier asks. He waves a hand in a random direction. "Just make a tree fall on me or something. It'll be an accident, it's fine, your faerie cops won't know."

"Um, no," the cat says. "That's fucked up."

"Don't you eat people? How the fuck do you eat people without killing them?"

"Who says I killed them before eating them?"

Ah. Sounds about right.

...Kinda cool, to be honest. Imagining a tiny little kitty cat rip a grown dude apart like he's a slice of bread. Almost funny in a way.

Roier jumps as something brushes the hair out of his face.

He jerks his head upright and glares down at the cat, now sitting delicately in front of him.

"I have an idea," the cat tells him. "Follow me."

As they walk back to the hollow tree, the cat asks, "Does Cucurucho still have that freaky mechanical sword?"

Roier thinks. "Maybe? I don't know, he kinda just sits and stares at people. Sometimes he chases the servants around with a sword? Dunno if it's mechanical, though..."

"Well, any sword will work. Hold on."

The cat leaps into the tree and comes out with a new bottle, this one clear.

Roier takes the bottle and swishes it around. The liquid inside looks like oil, okay...

"This is dragon's blood," the cat explains. "It's corrosive to the touch, so be careful. Tell him that it's a special polish for his sword. It should eat his skin to the bone and kill him dead."

"Huh," Roier says, suddenly much more careful with the bottle. He gently slides it into his pocket, makes sure it's secure between a bag of coins and his headband. "Okay. Cool."

"This should work," the cat says. "But I'll try and think of something else for if it doesn't."

"Yeah, well, it'd better work," Roier huffs. "I'm getting married in two days. Then the gods only know what he's gonna do with me."

"Trust me, we'll figure it out."

"Trust you? Aren't you some kind of evil faerie cat?"

The cat looks offended. "Excuse you, I'm barely evil anymore. All I do is read these days. Do you know how many books I have at my house? More than Cucurucho, that's for sure."

"You have a house?"

The cat visibly bristles. "Of course I have a house. What, do you think I'm homeless?"

"You are a cat."

"Not all the time!"

Oh, that's interesting. Roier can almost imagine what the cat looks like in a human form, but the idea escapes him at the last second.

"Whatever," Roier sighs. "Just kill me tomorrow if this doesn't work."

Roier doesn't even bother shouting as he storms up to the stump.

He sits, pulls his cloak off, tosses it to his feet, kicks it away. What the fuck!!

He doesn't so much as blink as the cat appears by his side.

"It didn't work?" the cat cries. "Really? That should've worked!"

"Yeah, well, it didn't," Roier huffs. "He wore gloves today. And Cucurucho figured out that I've been sneaking out to see someone at night, so he told my parents that we're going to move to a different castle out in the middle of nowhere. I bet he's going to lock me up, the piece of shit."

The cat's ears lay back on its head. Its eyes narrow, and its lip curls back in a clear snarl.

"I know," Roier agrees. "Fuck this guy for real."

"Fuck him."

"Fuck him!"

Roier smiles just for a second, and he even manages a brief laugh before remembering, right. He's fucking doomed. Right.

Sighing, he slumps to the side until he's tumbling off of the stump and splayed across the ground. He buries his face in the grass and screams.

To his credit, he hardly jumps as a hand firmly settles on his back and rubs it. Small circles, firm hand, big hand, it feels like, wow.

Something- a knee?- presses against Roier's arm firmly. It's grounding in a way. Almost.

"I'm getting married tomorrow," Roier whines. "Just kill me, gatinho. I promise I won't tell anyone."

"I'm not going to kill you, guapito," the cat says. (Roier blushes. Guapito...) Its voice sounds deeper, almost. Louder. More clear. "I can't."

"Then what am I supposed to do? Marry Cucurucho?"

"I won't let that happen."

"Why? Because you want to kill him? Because that hasn't exactly been working so far."

"Because it's super fucked up that he's forcing you to marry him. I don't give a shit about the kingdom, I don't live there. I want him dead, but I'm starting to think that he's unkillable."

The hand moves from Roier's back up to his head. Fingers sift through his hair. Woooow, that feels good. When's the last time Roier got touched this softly? Before Cucurucho arrived?

"I've been thinking," the cat continues. "I've been keeping an eye on Cucurucho for centuries, but he's never tried destroying the kingdom before now. Before you. I think that, if you're gone, then he might leave, too."

Roier cracks an eye open. He doesn't shift his head at all, so he can only just barely make out a hint of cloth. So the cat has clothes when he's a human, that's cool, Roier guesses. Makes him wonder where they came from.

"So... kill me," Roier tells him. "If it'll get him to leave the kingdom alone, kill me."

"I can't do that."

"I'm not next in line for the throne! It's fine! Just push me into the river, I can't swim."

"You can't swim? Really?"

"Well, I can, but I can pretend that I can't!"

"You are so... selfless," the cat says, sounding completely exasperated. "And stupid. No, come with me. I know how we can solve this without killing you."

The hand leaves Roier's head, and then a cold nose is poking at his cheek until he's sitting up and looking the cat right in its little kitty eyes.

"Do you still have cat eyes when you're in another form?" Roier can't help but ask. "That would be really cool."

The cat chuckles. "Maybe. Come on. I have one last thing we can try."

They go to the hollow tree, and Roier waits as the cat scrambles into the tree and surfaces with a necklace clutched in its teeth.

Roier takes the necklace and inspects it. It's a solid gold chain with a little charm that looks like a cat's head. Cute.

"What, is this evil faerie gold that will melt Cucurucho's skin off?" Roier asks.

"No, it's for you," the cat replies. "Wear it tomorrow. When the wedding reaches the climax, take the necklace off and break it."

Roier points at the cat accusingly. "You are going to kill me!"

The cat rolls its eyes. "I'm not. Just... trust me."

Trust the man-eating faerie cat, sure. Right.

Roier sighs, but he puts the necklace on, anyway. It's surprisingly warm around his neck.

The cat almost seems to smile. "You look lovely."

"This thing is going to explode and blow my head off."

"No, you'll see."

And, well. What choice does Roier have but to wait and see?

The final wedding preparations go by in an uncomfortable blur.

Leo comes in to hug Roier goodbye. She then punches Roier in the stomach and tells him to write to her once he's at his new house.

Jaiden comes in to help Roier finish getting ready. She's happy about the marriage because she really thinks that Cucurucho is a good person, and Roier can't help but be happy that she's happy.

Foolish comes in to walk Roierto the church. He and Vegetta each take one of Roier's arms, and they walk.

And then Cucurucho is waiting at the church in front of the altar in an all-white suit. His fur is meticulously brushed, his claws are polished, his smile is painted on, he's absolutely grotesque.

Roier hates him.

"Good morning," Cucurucho says as Roier settles in front of the altar.

"It's sunset, you fucking idiot," Roier snaps. He can say what he wants now, right? He's going to die, anyway. The cat is going to kill him.

Cucurucho laughs, and then the ceremony starts.

Roier tunes out most of the goings-on if only to keep himself from breaking down and breaking the necklace before it's time. The cat said to wait until the climax, so Roier's going to wait for the goddamn climax.

He comes back to himself as the cleric asks if anybody in the audience has any objections to the marriage.

This sounds like a fucking climax if Roier's ever heard one.

"Yes," he says. "I object!"

He tears the necklace from around his neck and throws it to the floor. Before anybody can stop him, he slams his heel into the charm.

The entire church erupts into screams as a blinding white light fills it. Magic tears at Roier's skin, biting and pulling. He squeezes his eyes shut, anticipating the end of it all.

But:

"I also object," the cat says.

Two large hands settle on Roier's upper arms, and he's pulled back and against a firm chest.

Roier tilts his head back- not too far, because the cat's human form is shorter than he is, funnily enough- and his eyes widen as he takes in the most beautiful man in the world. Long hair the same color as the cat's coat, scarred face, feathery earrings, cat eyes.

"No," Curucucho snaps. "No!"

"Yes!" the cat- well, not the cat, Roier supposes- shouts. "The prince is mine! He swore himself to me the moment he accepted that necklace, and so he will go back with me to the Faewild and become my husband. You know the rules, bear."

Leo, in the audience, cheers. So does Foolish, who always appreciates a good show.

"Gatinho," Roier hisses.

The faerie shrugs his concerns off. Roier is annoyed about this for exactly three seconds before he gets caught up in the faerie's eyes.

Could be a worse arranged marriage, that's for sure...

A long moment passes, but Cucurucho eventually says a begrudging, "Yes."

"So," the faerie continues, "you will not destroy the kingdom for this. If the prince has already been promised to somebody else, then he never rejected you."

"Yes," Cucurucho sighs.

"You're hot when you're arguing," Roier whispers.

The faerie's cheeks redden, as do the tips of his pointed ears. Cute!

Yeah, no, this arranged marriage will be way better than the last one.

"So!" The faerie turns Roier around so that they're looking at each other properly for the first time eye-to-eye. "You will be coming with me."

"Yeah, okay," Roier agrees. Hell yeah. "Take me, gatinho."

"'Take me'?" Foolish gasps. "Ooooo, this is getting spicy!"

"All you need to do is say my name," the faerie says.

He leans in close and whispers right into Roier's ear, and Roier returns the favor... with a couple of flirtatious remarks thrown in for good measure. Sue him, he's about to get married to a sexy faerie. He's going to make the most of the situation.

"Cellbit," Roier murmurs, and something tickles at his skin. Something... purple. It feels purple. Soft and purple.

"Roier," the faerie replies. He looks positively flustered, aww. He's going to be so fun to tease once they're out of the church.

As the Faewild's magic starts to pick up, Roier can't help but give the faerie a grateful kiss.

The faerie blinks away from the kiss after a moment of some very eager lip-chasing. His face is completely red, and his eyes are wide and unblinking even as the magic around them whips like the wind.

"There's more where that comes from," Roier teases. He puts his arms around the faerie and smiles. "You're marrying me, get used to it. That's just part of the deal."

Because faeries are all about deals, right? Well, Roier's the best deal this guys is ever gonna get.

The faerie swallows, an eager grin teasing at his face.

"Yeah," he breathes. "Alright."

He pulls Roier's head down for another kiss just as the Faewild swallows them whole.

(Legends say that there are monsters living in the haunted forest surrounding the Kingdom of Quesadilla. Once monster is a man-spider with glowing red eyes and fangs the length of one's sword. The other is a furry snarling beast of a thing with magic worthy of the most powerful of witches.

Ah, but don't worry, my child, for these monsters don't hunt humans.

No, they hunt bears, and isn't that a good thing for us?)

#a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose.#i really like this one too!! i love fairy tales!#spiderbit #guapoduo #it's cheesy but that's fine

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thelov3lybookworm · 7 months

Note

AZ x yn where reader is a Serial Killer and az takes her to the dungeons to introgate her only to find out that she only kills the pedophiles and abusers and let's her go but now helps her in these murders😈🔪

Sloppy Killer

@azrielappreciationweek

Day 7: free day

Summary: Y/n gets an unexpected trainer.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: anon thank you so much for this idea ♥ I had so much fun writing it 😏

•○🌑○•

Y/n hurried through the alleyways in the camp, hoping to slip back into her house before her brother and father noticed her absence.

The spaces between the houses couldn't really be called alleys, but that was not really the point.

She had just discarded her bloody clothes and gloves in her cave before rushing out of there. It was not near the camp, and it was hidden fairly well, so she didn't have to worry about someone finding her things.

She was just worried about getting caught by the higher ranking officials of the camp.

Not that there were many left. Thanks to no one but herself.

The night was silent, dawn not too far away if the changing colour of the skies near the horizon were any indication.

It was that little slip of time where it was guaranteed that no one would be awake. Hence the lack of noise. All that could be heard was the quiet chirps of the birds, the croaks of frogs in the distance, the sounds of animals in the nearby forest and her own breathing.

Y/n was so busy in thinking about how she needed to hurry her steps before her family woke up that she didn't notice the change in the air. Or maybe she was so used to being the only one awake around this time and her experience in navigating the place all alone in the dark that she had dropped her guard.

Whatever the reason was, she didn't notice the uncanny quiet that fell around her until it was too late. When she did, the hair on the back of her neck stood, and she froze in her steps.

Something was not right. She knew it.

Someone was stalking her.

She decided that stopping and facing whatever or whoever she thought was watching her would not be the best choice, so she began walking again.

She pretended she didn't feel the change, pretended she was not preparing to defend herself if the need arose as she tugged on the hood of her cloak nervously, making sure that her face was covered. Because someone or something was definitely following her.

She didn't have fae hearing by any means, but her hearing was still better than that of mortals.

But again, she was no trained warrior, and everything she knew, she was taught by herself or her brother.

She couldn't hear any footsteps, but she knew the creature was still following her.

That was not at all a good thing, because she didn't know how close her follower was.

Fucking inconvenient, honestly.

A light breeze brushed against the skin of Y/n's neck half a moment before an arm went around her waist, trapping her favoured hand between her body and the strong arm banded around her, and, panicked, she swung up her hand, the one holding a small but sharp knife towards where she estimated her captors shoulder or face was.

Of course, she missed spectacularly, and, her captor then caught her wrist, his hand encircling her wrist tightly. She squirmed against his hold, trying to dislodge his hold on her to no avail.

He was a male, bigger than her in size. He probably had years or even centuries of training, while all she knew was how to chop vegetables. He also had a lot of strength, more than she had. It was obvious he would overpower her.

She tried to stomp on his foot, and was rewarded with a grunted dammit.

His hold on her wrist loosened the slightest bit, and she tugged it out of his grasp completely. She was about to drive her elbow into his abdomen when she felt a hand on her neck, and before she could panic about it, everything went dark.

•○🌑○•

Azriel's pov.

The cloaked and hooded male went limp in his arms, and Azriel sighed.

Finally, after weeks of planning the ambush, Azriel had found the serial killer who had been on a killing spree recently. And, being the spymaster of night court, he was assigned to look into these murders.

Immediately, Azriel had noticed a pattern in these killings.

The attacker always attacked in the dead of the night, he always left before dawn. As far as the people in the camp and the lord knew, it was no one from the camp, because, according to them, no one from the camp would murder someone so sloppily. Apparently, they'd either make it a whole bloodbath, or be clean in these murders.

Azriel always wanted to roll his eyes whenever he recalled the way the camp lord had bragged, as if it was something to be proud of.

But, no matter how sloppy these kills were, they piqued Azriel's interest immensely. All he had been thinking about the past few weeks was this male and his sloppy kills.

Azriel decided staying in the camp longer than necessary would be a waste of time, and so, he bent down to lift the male into his arms.

He damn near lost his balance when the male turned out to be lighter than Azriel thought. That's when the doubt started creeping in. Was this really a male?

Before he could ponder much about this mysterious figure in his arms, Azriel felt a scratch on his mental shields, and he lowered a part of those majestic walls to speak to his brother.

Any leads on that killer, brother?

Yes. I'm holding him right now.

A surprised laugh came from the other side of the mental bridge between Azriel and his brother. Woah, that is amazing. Bring him to Velaris so we can interrogate him.

Azriel sent back a word of affirmation, then pulled the walls back up as he readied to fly.

Once in the air, Azriel realised that the figure in his arms had gone extremely stiff, and that could only mean one thing.

He was awake.

Just a moment after Azriel realised that, the body in his arms started squirming, kicking their tiny feet and pushing against Azriel's body. Azriel grunted, trying his best not to drop the male, but it seemed like he wanted to be dropped.

Azriel tightened his hold, his fingers digging into soft thighs instead of hard muscle.

In the struggle for dominance, the hood over the person in Azriel's hold slipped, and Azriel's wings stopped flying of their own accord.

This... this killer, was not a male.

The killer was a female.

Cauldron burn me.

Azriel stared at her for a long long time, watching as she struggled to rid his hold on her. When she damn near slipped out of his arms because he was so busy fucking ogling her-his own words- he tightened his hold on her.

She stopped squirming for a moment, looking up at him, her eyes widening as she realised her hood had slipped off.

She stared at him, and he stared at her.

Azriel knew the both of them had very different reasons for staring.

She was definitely trying to gauge his motives, what with the frantic way her eyes moved.

All his mind was thinking about was how beautiful she was.

How could someone like her murder someone? Surely, Azriel thought, I'm mistaken.

But he soon realised he was not, in fact, mistaken.

Her fist came hurtling towards his face, and his head snapped back from the unexpected force of the punch.

That was when he decided that this female was not interested in cooperating, and he couldn't take her to Velaris if she was trying her best to fall to her death.

Azriel grunted, diving and gliding towards an abandoned house he had found before this mission specifically for this purpose.

Found it so he could use it as a makeshift torture chamber to gain information from the killer in case he couldn't take them to Velaris or Hewn City.

•○🌑○•

Y/n's pov.

"So... you are telling me... you have been killing abusive males?"

"And males who prey on little children, yes." She didn't look up from her lap, where her fingers twisted around each other. But she knew he watched her as he sat in a chair opposite her.

He sighed, leaning back, and Y/n dared to look up.

He was staring at her in a way she couldn't decipher. All she knew was that it was certainly not the way males looked at females when they were about to take advantage of them. That gave her some relief.

Still, she prayed he would not take advantage of her. That he was not like other males.

He dragged a hand down his face, rubbing his eyes and his jaw as he seemed to contemplate something.

"How many have you killed by now?" He finally asked.

Y/n gave him a look. "I am pretty sure you know. Are you not the spymaster?"

A small, exasperated smile bloomed on those inviting lips, and Y/n had to force herself to meet his eyes and not stare at his lips.

As soon as he'd sat her down on a rickety chair, he'd asked her if she would throw a tantrum here too. When she had scowled at him, he'd simply stated that he would have to tie her down if she was uncooperative, and grumbling, she had agreed to talk.

After he'd situated himself in front of her, he had told her he was the high lord's spymaster and shadowsinger, and that had prompted Y/n into submitting to his questions.

"So basically what you are doing is killing assholes to keep women and children safe?"

Y/n nodded as worry started creeping in at the glint in the spymaster's eyes.

Was he going to punish Y/n? Was he going to kill her? Torture her?

Before Y/n's mind could come up with worse scenarios, Azriel stood.

Y/n held her breath, watching as Azriel stalked to her, then bent down at the waist to get to her eye level.

"You're doing good work, but you've been quite sloppy." A smirk curled those sensuous lips, and Y/n's lips parted as what he'd said settled in.

"Yeah well, I was not allowed proper training. That is why it is sloppy. But atleast I was doing something, instead of sitting on my ass all day and attending parties under the guise of ruling the court." Y/n all but snarled.

His smirk faded a little, his eyes hardening. "Do not talk about my high lord like that."

"Or what? Are you going to kill me if I don't kiss the ground he walks on? Then do it." She lifted her chin, hoping she looked braver than she felt.

The spymaster studied her for a moment. "When are you free?"

Y/n blinked. "What?"

"You do chores all day. When do you get free?"

"Why?"

He sighed. "Can you not answer a simple question?"

"Can you not be such a pain in my ass?"

Now it was his turn to blink. He stared at her for a moment, then threw his head back in laughter, his whole body shaking as he straigtened. After laughing for a moment, he wiped a stray tear in the corner of his eyes and grinned at her scowling face.

"I want to know so I can train you." At the look of shock on her face, he continued. "I have been thinking about teaching illyrian females to fight by myself because the bastards in the camp simply won't. I have to start somewhere. So tell me, lovely Y/n. When do you get free so I can sneak you out to train you?"

Y/n was very proud of herself for not paying attention to the word lovely. "Most of the females, including me, get done with our chores by dusk."

Azriel smiled. "And you set out on your murderous journey when the camp goes to sleep?"

That made Y/n blush. She simply nodded, and his smile grew.

"Be ready by dusk then. We are going to have a long night. Also, come prepared with your little murdering toys." He turned his back to her, and cauldron damn her, but she couldn't help but stop him.

"Why?"

He turned to her halfway, a half smile on his face as he regarded her.

"So I can teach you how to not be sloppy."

•○🌑○•

Azriel taglist: @darthdumbass @foreverrandomwritings

General Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686

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roseapov · 2 months

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3 Nights of the 1st January

Contains spoilers to the Book 7 TWST Tw: War, injury, blood, poison, death, swears Angst (I hope to make you cry)2k+ words Masterlist / 2024 BDAY Masterlist Lilia's 2024 Birthday Special

The cold night air whistled in his pointy ears, as a man run through the woods after being spotted by his enemies. The fae tasked with spying on the Silver Owl's, failed his mission due to an injury sustained earlier, and now he paid the price of ignoring it, by being chased by humans in the iron armors.

'Ugh! Shit..!' Were the words the running figure had spoken, when more of his injuries opened up during the frantic run. In his current state, he wouldn't stand a chance in the fight against them all, but as he was the General, and a very stubborn General in fact, no one had the right to stop him.

The shouts of the human soldiers echoed through the forest, making the male stumble a little, the situations had been really bad. Now that they had spotted him, they will change their camp location, something he couldn't afford to let them do. It was a perfect opportunity to listen in on the enemy and sabotage their plans, but he fucked it up.

He cursed himself in his thoughts, forcing himself to run faster. His beautiful long black hair with red streaks flowed in the wind, moving franctically during the sharp turns and unexpected movementstogether with their owner. The moon shining down on his mask and form, making him look ethereal and glowy, beffiting a nocturnal fae such as himself, wasn't helping his situation at all.

As he made another sharp turn, thinking he lost the ones chasing him, he leaned on to a tree trunk, breathing heavily immiediately looking back only to let out a scream of pain. While he was distracted with looking for everyone, one of the iron archers shoot him in his right calf with an arrow, that he was sure was poisoned.

Lilia cursed outloud, turning towards the shooter and beheading him with one smooth motion of his weapon, sucking his breath in painfully, with the arrow still in his flesh.

Instead of leaning on a tree again, he chose to climb one instead, to not repeat his mistakes, and send a few of his bats to call one of his subornites, namely Baul Zigvolt, to avoid making from the situation more of a big deal than it already is, and getting away quietly, undetected.

Sitting on a big branch of an old oak, he caught the arrow close to the arrowhead and pulled it out in one fast montion, biting his other hand and screaming in his head, while the enemy soldiers were running underneath the branch he sitted on.

'This damned poison' He thought as he started feeling faint, holding himself onto the bleeding place, directing his eyes to the stars and looking at them emptily through the mask.

The wind suddenly started to blow, making a gentle breeze that started moving his hair a little, as he taken off his mask and hood, enjoying it dearly. At least, as much as a man in a chase can enojoy things like this, with little tear droplets wetting his eyelashes.

He went through the most chellenging and hard situations in life, and ended up as a War General. His life always has been a complicated mess.

He was a worthless orphan, not someone worthy of stading beside the Crowned Princess, not someone worthy of being a General. How old is he? When was he born, and if he knew, would he celebrate? Probably no. Who were his parents? Did they abandoned him? Or did something happened to them instead?

These were the thoughts that started to invade his head, as his armor started to weigh on him. His arms started getting weaker and weaker, his eyes, that were staring emptily at the sky, started to feel unbearable heavy, and he slowly too, started to lose conciousnes. The only thing he managed to hear was a worried scream of his name.. Looks like the rescue has finally came...

And that's how, the night of the 1st January passed for Lilia Vanrouge, the same as many future ones to come...

( * Hundreds of years later * )

'Happy Birthday Lilia!' - Voices of people flooded his senses when he entered the Diasomnia lounge, one of the dorms in the college he studied in.

'Huh? It's my birthday today..? I forgot' Thought the short fae, he completely forgot, but nevertheless welcomed this nice surprise, he was even impressed, that his children had managed to organise all of this without raising his suspicions.

'It's my birthday today? I forgot, and you haven't even reminded me? '- He said as looked at his familiars and then chuckled happily - 'I raised you good, you managed to surprise me!'

His chuckles turned into a full out laugh, he was really happy. For many reasons, Malleus - had hatched and he is able to be with him, Silver - his son with a way shorther lifespan than his - is alive, Sebek - his students is still full of energy and determination to better himself, still being very liable to fall for his jokes.

'What a great gift I received to be able to spend this year with you three', Lilia thought to himself, with melancholy in his eyes. A second after that, the male has put on his big smile once again, and started teasing people he considered his family with a joyous laughter and stars in his eyes.

Everyone in the Diasomnia played board games and he managed to tell lots of stories from his youth, later on as the man of the hour he got a banned from the kitchen because as Malleus said, he shouldn't lift a finger with his senile age, and saving everyone from eating deathly dishes, although the last part was not mentioned out loud.

Soon after that, his friends from other dorms joined in the partying and burried him under a huge pile of presents, especially Kalim. Lilia only smiled and laughed at that, he would surely have lots of fun opening them all later, he really couldn't wait.

A cake, cookies of all sorts, a tomato juice and other kinds of snacks got placed on the table with Malleus's magic as he also redistributed one glass of the juice to every guest, while Silver and Sebek had decorated the whole Diasomnia, and not just the venue, in a birthday party style.

The atmosphere had been delightful and full of laughter, up till late hours of the night. Of course, Lilia wouldn't be himself if he hadn't played a few jokes at the guests and his birthday interviewer, making everyone laugh at them, giving him a free hand in doing whatever he liked.

When the hour got closer to midnight, the rest of theremaining guests had come back to their own dorms, wishing their well wishes to the fae again. The lounge quickly became empty, with only 4 people being left in it, including himself.

Can I ask for one last thing? - Lilia's deep voice cut through the comfortable silence, shocking the boys, who thought he wouldn't speak at all. But even after the shock, their response was immediate and affiramtive, just as he expected.

At that the short male turned to look at his closed ones faces, and with a serene smile asked for a dance. His bats with the help of his magic started playing the instruments in the rhythm of a song all of them knew perfectly well, a classic Briar Valley lullababy.

The four of them quickly took off to dance, and just after the first few verses, changing their dancing partner so that everyone could dance with eachother, and then again, and again.

Dancing up until midnight and way longer into the night, with only themselves and Lilia's bats as witnesses to their antics, and serene moment, filled with true love they had for eachother in the air.

This was a delightful January 1st, one that he'll be sure to treasure for as long as he can remember.

( * Several years later * )

In the old hut in the woods, a man sat in his rocking chairoutside on the porch, an Ex-War General and the caretaker of the Fae King, Malleus Draconia. The fae who even after the demanded respect for him by their new King, others still were treating like an outcast and so, he didn't protest, living in the forest, just like an outcast, they said he were.

Was it wrong that he never fought for more time spend being closer with his family..? He shouldn't think like that, he got to spend plenty of time with his boys already, no? He shouldn't be too greedy about their presence and time, they all had their own lives outside of him.

All of the them being able to be together at the NRC, was the biggest gift and fortune, he could've ever imagined, making beautiful memories. Just like his birthday several years ago, when he and his boys danced together until the late night. Can he complain at such beautiful memories? Does he have the right to ever ask them to spend more time with him? To not only think about the memories, but to make new ones?

He won't know, not anymore. There's too little time left, feeling his soul trying to leave his body, he still tries to fight back, 'stars please, give me more time'. He won't give up, not until he'll be able to see them, one more time, just a glimpse is enough.

Even after living so far off from the capital, he still can see the glipses of colored lights looming above the tree crowns, and faintly hear their bangs. He sighed and smiled to himself, looking up into the sky, but that smile haven't lasted long, dimnishing a second later with a pain in his right calf.

What should he say to everyone? That he feels like death is just around the corner? Should he even say anything and destroy their moods with panic? Should he ruin Malleus's first new year celebration as a King? No, no he shouldn't... He don't want to ruin their fun...

Soon after his heavy thoughts, the only joys left in his life, came to see him and sat next to him quietly, not disrupting his rest and looking up at the same scenery, just as he did a while before.

When he opened his mouth to say his final goodbyes, no sound left him and thus he knew, his time has come. He looked up at the stars one last time, with a last thought 'Please take care of them for me', to who? He's not sure...

'Happy Birthday', one whispered.. or said..? Lilia's not sure anymore, as his eyes had started coming to a close, he felt really happy that he could spend his last moments together with his family, when all of them had been happy around him, without any worries at all...

After his soul departed from his body for good, he took one last look at his now-dead body, and saw a truly heartbreaking scene. Malleus, Silver and Sebek panicking. With his body in Sebek's arms who was crying the whole river out, Silver screaming and also crying, trying to somehow wake him up, Malleus looking shocked, panicked even, trying every known to him spell, but noone seemed to be working.

In the corner he barely saw Baul, his comrade in the war-times, running frantically towards the source of the panic, not wanting to believe in what he thought was happening. So Baul it is, huh? 'Please, protect them well then' his thoughts begged the man before him, the one that couldn't hear or see him anymore.

Lilia's soul finally let out lots of terrible cries and screams at their reactions, breaking down, after holding it in when he was alive, all emotions returning to surface. He didn't wanted to leave them, he truly didn't! If he could, he would.. he would.. Do anything to spend more time with them together..! He never wanted to leave...

And then, he saw their faces. Meleanor and Levan waiting for him togehter with open arms and tears in their own eyes.. His pupils dilated, breath quickened and he threw himself into a run, jumping into their arms, sobbing and crying with all his might, being afraid to let go, not being able to let go, with his voice breaking down several times.

The three of them then dissapeared together high into the stars, without looking back, waiting for others to join them later in the future.

And thus, at the night of the 1st January, Lilia Vanrouge, joined the stars, reunited with his dear companions, and started looking after the young ones from above, hoping that Baul will be able to do what he wasn't able to. Be with his loved ones for just a bit longer, being able to protect them.

I hope I made you cry, or at least made you have tears in your eyes/being sad. (If I did, pls tell me, I wanna know if I did a good job), Have a good day with Lilia in the stars!

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goldenwitherphoenix13 · 11 months

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A long post is under the cut, but I think we, as a fandom, moved on far too quickly from the endings of empires smp season 2.

Almost everyone got a happy ending.

Fwhip resigned from the role of the Goblin king.

Joel accended to true God hood.

Sausage grew old in sanctuary and raised Hermes to be an interdimentional warrior.

Gem finished Dawn and chose to stay in Hermitcraft because it was the best choice.

Katherine cured the curse plaguing her land.

Joey got to go on all sorts of adventures after defeating his arch-nemesis Skeletron.

Pix, while not finishing his work, got to tell the story of the ancient ruins.

Lizzie created a fully functioning city of animals to live as they want.

Shelby became one of the most powerful witches and got that date with Katherine.

Scott went off into the sunset with Owen to discover new lands and treasures to steal.

Heck, even Oli got out of debt, even if he ended up accidentally time travelling.

And while False never uploaded her finale, we can easily infer that she continued to expand her empire and make her name for herself.

Who did I miss?

Sheriff Jimmy.

The sheriff, who all the other emperors abandoned. The sheriff, nearly loosing his own identity to a joke. The sheriff, who lost his town to the fae.

Let's not forget Jimmy never left tumble town willingly. He was booted out when the fae corrupted his lands, spreading it throughout his home. He and the old sheriff, Roswell, made the best of a bad situation. I mean, what else can they do? Fight the fae? Fae are powerful creature. Not to be messed with. Fighting them is a one-way ticket to death if they don't decide to hold you a prisoner in their realm.

Jimmy also never got the chance to say goodbye to anyone. Everyone had already left him behind. Joel had accended without saying goodbye to his supposed best bud. Sausage never thought to check in on tumble town. There was no final passing of words—just a note from Fwhip.

And, let's not forget this big bit of information, the thing that still grinds my gears about empires season 2. He is the only villain of season 2 who got no closure, redemption or apology. Shelby was uncorrupted and saved. Sausage supreme was fused into Sausages soul. Skeletron was killed by Katherine, Joey and Shelby. They all got an end to their villainy, wether through being saved or killed.

Jimmy got nothing.

His ending was, in multiple ways, left unfinished. He was still bitter towards the emperors. He was still lacking any human respect. He wasn't given any apology or forgiveness. He was forced out of his home by powerful creatures, trying his best to make good of the darkness left to him.

But it's not all darkness. This isn't a bad ending. I think this end has an underlying subtext not even Jimmy planned for. Something I've seen almost no one talking about.

The sheriff walked away from a toxic environment.

Now is an excellent time to remind you that this is all about the characters. Not the actual content creators. Got it? Good.

Let's be honest. None of the characters in Empires Season 2 were 100% innocent besides maybe Katherine. Some were thieves. Some were filled with pride, some made dubious choices, and some were even a little corrupt. And Jimmy isn't an exception. He was a lil bit dishonest with power sometimes and a lil bit prideful in his name. But the sheriff wasn't evil at first. He still did things to help people. He helped Katherine arrest Joey for theft. He did his best to follow the rules, and he actively sought to stop those committing crimes and try to understand the issue at hand, like with Shelby. And his reward. Constant teasing and mockery.

Everyone, including his allies, still made fun of him. Even his best bud said things behind his back. And this is what made him snap. Not the jokes, but that no one, not even his allies, seemed to show any human decency to him.

And he never got an apology or a moment to put them in their place to tell them that they have done goofed. The sheriff was barely given a chance to build, hardly a chance to breathe. He knows he probably couldn't take them in a fight, but they didn't even give him a chance to talk. They made him sit there and take it like he had no choice.

The sheriff instead chose to walk away. Everyone had left him behind. And with the threat of the fae above him, he decided that the best course of action was to leave the toxic lands behind. Lands full of pranks and mistakes that would only ever remind him of his negative attributes.

The sheriff stayed with the one person who ever showed him any sliver of true friendship—the old sheriff. The old sheriff helped reverse the effects of the lore potion with an unnamed potion he found at Shelbys. He helped Jimmy defend the town from a raid. He stayed with him through thick and thin. Sure, he isn't the best influence, but he's better than the world around them.

Ultimately, Jimmy's finale wasn't the good ending like everyone else's. Villains rarely ever get those. Instead, it's a bittersweet goodbye from the two sheriffs off to find a new home far away to the lands of one that brought sorrow, even if at least one of them has some anger issues to work through.

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rookthorne · 3 months

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐫

Thieves came in many different forms — from Loki to a simple villager, or to a horse with the mind of a trickster and a heart of gold.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ⇁ Viking!Bucky Barnes x Fae!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ⇁ 1.4k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ⇁ Fluff, a bit of crack, Ragnar is a cheeky boy

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ⇁ This visual was too funny to pass up. ⇁ This is also a fic purely made for the bond between Mouse and Ragnar, so if you are big on the troublemaker, this isn't one to miss!

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ⇁ Forbidden Friendship by John Powell

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ⇁ @rookthorne's Merry Buckmas — Masterlist

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐤𝐨𝐠𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The frigid chill of the morning air made puffs of mist billow from Ragnar’s nostrils while he stood alert by your side. You watched curiously while his ears flicked back and forth; never stopping unless you made a noise to call his attention.

His hooves, all four coloured with dark keratin, scuffed the snow as he sniffed the air.

From your place by his feet, you rested your head on his leg and trailed your fingertips over the muscles of his lower limbs with awe — a warrior's mount, fierce and strong, the most loyal and steadfast of any creature, could still be as gentle, as sweet.

It fascinated you.

“What is it that you see?” you asked the horse quietly, your eyes trailing over the line of trees. “Bear is fast asleep, boy—you know he is in the cave.” Ragnar knickered, low in his throat, then he nuzzled at your head, pushing your temple into his leg. “What?”

The light colours of his mane flew as he tossed his head towards a mound of snow to your side.

“Do you want to play–?” A soft huff of misted breath settled over the top of your head in reply, and Ragnar waited patiently as you got to your feet. “I will take that as a yes.” You placed a hand on his bare shoulder and scratched gently at the soft fur — the saddle he wore placed in the cave the previous night.

You couldn’t help but giggle as he stepped closer and turned, forcing you to move with him towards the mound of snow where he blew harshly over it, scattering the flurries.

“Oh, no—here,” you said, and you kneeled down to cup a handful of snow. “This is what you do.”

For a few moments, you repeated the gesture: holding up handfuls of snow to his muzzle so he would blow over the heaped snow and send the flurries all over your face and clothes. His dark eyes stared at you, bright under the morning sun, and he snorted in apparent laughter.

“You are very funny, skitr,” you grumbled, and you shook your head to rid yourself of the worst of it. “A snow creature would be fun to make—what do you think?”

There was a deep sigh that shook his nostrils. “I thought so.”

Heavy footsteps snapped twigs and scattered pebbles behind you, followed by the sound of a deep, rumbling voice. “What are you planning, little Mouse?”

You turned towards the source — Bucky was standing at the mouth of the cave. His eyes were hooded with the remnants of his deep, bewitched sleep, but he smiled widely upon seeing both you and Ragnar together. “Góðan morgin, Bear.”

His boots crunched over the fallen snow, and he kissed your temple before scratching Ragnar’s chin.

“We were going to create snow creatures,” you explained happily, looking into Ragnar’s face. The stallion seemed happier for Bucky being awake. “He was just playing with the snow—but now we must get to work.”

“Do you need carrots?” Bucky asked, pulling a few from his satchel and offering them to you.

You beamed at him. “They will help! They can be the creature’s nose—what do you think, Ragnar?”

The stallion eyed the carrots eagerly, and Bucky laughed as he placed them in your outstretched hand. “Better err on the side of caution, minn sváss. He is a devil when it comes to his favourites.”

Under the watchful eye of Ragnar, you began to build something from the heaped snow — at first, it resembled something akin to a mushroom, the kind that grew fat and thick from the earth’s soil. “Hmm.”

Bucky kneeled beside you. “Why not try–” His hands ran over the snow, morphing and shaping it as he worked. You could not help but watch his eyes as they hardened with focus, how his lips pulled taut over his teeth, and the tip of his tongue poked out to the side. “There you are.”

His hands came away from the snow to reveal a creature of sorts. A giant, circular body, like Mani and Sol above, and a second, smaller rounded ball of snow on top. “Oh–”

“We could put the sticks–” Bucky gestured towards the twigs and sticks at Ragnar’s hooves. “They can be the creature’s arms? And then, perhaps the carrot can be the nose?”

“That sounds wonderful,” you replied, and you reached over to grab a handful of sticks. Ragnar sniffed your wrist as you grasped a few, and he followed your hand as you pulled it back to stick one end into the big ball of snow. “The pinecones…”

Ragnar snuffled at a clustered heap of the dried fauna, and with his lips, he pushed a few closer towards the body of the creature. “Good boy,” Bucky praised, grabbing them. “They can be the fastenings of a cloak, or the mouth and eyes, maybe, Mouse?”

You nodded. “The eyes and mouth sound best—our friend needs to see. And I will put the carrot here–” the fat end of the vegetable stuck easily into the packed snow. “There we are! Look at it, it is beautiful!”

Bucky sat back on his heels, admiring the work the two of you had put into it. You were dizzy with excitement at the creation of a new friend, and before you could click your finger to bring them to life, Ragnar’s mouth inched suspiciously close to the carrot sticking out from the snow. “Ah, ah! Ragnar–”

The stallion nickered, blew a harsh snort, and turned his head to look at you. If he were a boy, or a man, you knew he would be pouting in protest. “No.” Your hand scratched his cheek, and you gently pushed away from the tempting treat. “You will leave it alone.”

A quiet laugh came from Bucky. “I told you– Oh, no.”

While you were looking at Bucky, Ragnar had inched his head closer to the carrot once more and grabbed the tip with his teeth.

You were going to grumble your frustrations at the cheeky, pesky stallion, but before you opened your mouth to speak, he took off. His legs worked in a haughty trot, the stride of it arrogant and swift. “Ragnar! Come back!”

The snow ruffled beneath your feet as you stood up and took off after the runaway thief. “Ragnar! Stop—that is not yours!”

Bucky’s laughter behind you was contagious and you couldn’t help but laugh yourself through the harsh gasps for air. It burned your lungs with the chill of the forest, but Rangar refused to slow down — content to allow you to chase him and your quarry. Loud, humorous snorts sounded each step of Ragnar’s front hooves, every one prouder than the last.

“I will not be bested by a beast,” you called, and Ragnar whinnied back, jumping from the ground in leaps. “Ragnar!”

You collided painfully with Ragnar’s flank when he stopped abruptly, and you bounced off of it into the snow with a surprised grunt. The stallion stared down at you, his eyes bright and glinting with triumph, but he did not lower his head; a wiser animal than you gave him credit for. “Please—please may I have that back, boy?”

“Do as you are bid, Ragnar,” Bucky shouted from the other side of the clearing — you had not realised how far you had chased the thief.

Ragnar grunted, and shook his head, the white of his mane flowing with the movement.

“You, boy,” you said, pointing a finger at his nose. “You are a mischievous creature fit for Loki himself.”

Seemingly affronted, he narrowed his eyes and grunted again. You could just hear in your mind: “How you could compare me to such a devil.”

“Because you are one, Ragnar,” you whined, and you pouted up at him. “A devil. You stole my creature’s nose!”

His hooves brushed the bottoms of your feet. The proximity of such a large animal was daunting, but you took a deep breath as Ragnar lowered his head, placing his forelock on your temple, and, mercifully, dropping the carrot in your lap. You placed your hands on the sides of his mouth, and a low, comforting nicker sounded and vibrated over your palms.

The two of you stayed as still as an oak, staring into one another’s eyes. “Thank you, my Ragnar,” you whispered, “For giving it back. You are not such a devil as you seem.”

Dark eyes travelled over your face, and you heard, in your mind, “My Mouse.”

You smiled and kissed his forelock. “Let us go back.”

Kinn Seggr = Cheeky Boy góðan morgin = good morning minn sváss = my sweet skitr = shit

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #rookthorne's works

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the-darkestminds · 1 day

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Autumn's Shadow: Chapter 8

Azriel x Eris (Azriel POV)

Summary: A covert meeting between Azriel and Eris to exchange valuable intel leaves Azriel reeling—and questioning everything he has ever felt for the Heir of Autumn. Azriel finds himself inexorably drawn to Eris, unable to resist his captivating allure. With the threat of Koschei and Beron looming ever closer, can their forbidden love endure in the face of such danger?

a/n: As always, this is not canon compliant. This was posted as part of @azrisweek Free Day! Hope you like it! (nsfw, 18+)

Let me know if you want to be added to a tag list!

Read on AO3!

Full Chapter List

Chapter 8:

The following week, with permission from the priestesses, Azriel brought Eris to the library beneath the House of Wind. Their plan was to research what they could of Koschei, aiming to fill in the gaps in Vassa’s knowledge of the death god, and possibly uncover something useful about her curse as well.

Nesta had subtly informed him that Cassian would be in Windhaven until the following day, and he was grateful she had cared enough to find out for him.

Azriel was well aware of the hatred that burned between Eris and Cassian. Whenever he mentioned his brother, Eris went cold, lip curling in disgust. Azriel wasn’t sure what to do about it, so he left it alone. He had no delusions about them ever being friends, but he hoped maybe one day they could at least be civil. If not…well, he’d worry about it another time.

On their way down to the library, Azriel solemnly explained to Eris what manner of work the priestesses did under the mountain—and of the sanctuary it provided. They both nodded respectfully to Clotho as they strolled by her desk quietly. She had been helpful in identifying books that might be of use to them, and had already created a small stack on the table before them, along with a list of other potentially useful titles.

“Rhysand created this place for them?” Eris asked in a hushed voice. His eyes were alert as he took in the shelves around him, and peered over the winding staircase that disappeared into the darkness below.

“The library itself has existed for thousands of years. He had the scholars who worked here relocated to other libraries and opened this place up as a safe place for those who needed it most,” Azriel replied. Eris considered, frowning slightly, and Azriel couldn’t place the emotion that flashed in his eyes.

They spent the following few hours hauling heavy tomes, pouring over the scrolls, and scanning old, dusty pages for any scraps of information they could find related to Koschei and magical curses. They encountered only a few potentially useful snippets—a short blurb about an ancient monster who could enthrall humans and Fae like mindless puppets, of a cursed lake that dragged victims off the shore into its murky depths, of a siren song that could travel with the wind and pierce the mind of whomever heard it. They couldn’t be sure the words were written about Koschei, but they recorded them anyway so Azriel could report the information to Rhys.

Eris had stumbled upon a brief account of an ancient Fae of fire who had bound three demons to the earth using some power in her blood. He'd studied the information for over an hour, so deep in thought that Azriel had left him alone to think while he explored the shelves.

The priestesses moved throughout the library on silent feet. Azriel could usually identify them all by scent alone, even those with their blue hoods drawn and faces hidden. He scanned the shelf before him. So many volumes and scrolls, many written in languages he could not read. Eris had stunned him with the knowledge that he could read the Old Language, along with twelve others, each more obscure than the last. He’d tutted at Azriel’s bemused face and reminded him that a High Lord’s education should be extensive and thorough.

Azriel pulled a particularly large book on hexes and maledictions off the shelf and moved to return to their table a level below. He smiled politely to the black-eyed priestess who looked up at him as she breezed by. She quickly averted her gaze. He had only just reached the first step of the spiraling staircase when he paused.

He glanced back over his shoulder to the shelves. He sniffed the air but detected only parchment, ink and dust. Odd. Perhaps Rhys had welcomed a new priestess in recent weeks and Azriel had been too distracted to notice. He swept his shadows out around him as he walked back towards the stacks. Nothing. Those eyes felt familiar, and yet he couldn't place where he’d seen them. He let his shadows explore the levels above and below him, searching for the scentless priestess. He was mindful not to let his familiars be seen, so as not to upset or frighten the females who were working quietly. No sign of her. He made a mental note to ask Rhys about any new arrivals as his shadows returned to him.

He puzzled over it as he descended the stairs to the level below. He found Eris bent over an ancient looking scroll, his eyes scanning rapidly across the page. Eris looked up as he approached the table and smiled, and then cracked his neck and stretched.

“Find anything interesting?” Azriel admired his long neck. Eris leaned back in his chair, and rubbed a hand over his jaw absently.

“We know Koschei wants to be free of the lake. And Vassa suggested he might intend to make himself master of this world, as he once tried to do, long ago.” Azriel sat down across from him, content to listen to him think aloud. “Legends say he is from a different world, and that he slipped through a crack in the sky and found himself trapped here. Do we know if he would like to return home?” Azriel considered. Feyre had spoken to Koschei’s brother more than once. The Bone Carver had told her and Cassian about his siblings, though Azriel never inquired after the full conversation. Azriel speared his mind outwards towards the city in hopes of snagging his brother’s attention.

Rhys? Do you have a minute? Need to know what the Bone Carver revealed to Cassian and Feyre two years ago. Rhys responded a few minutes later, his voice faint, like he was much farther away than Velaris.

I’m with Cassian in Windhaven. Azriel frowned, but then Rhys continued. Feyre will be right with you. Make sure Eris behaves himself. The presence in his mind faded.

A moment later, Feyre appeared before them. She smiled tentatively at Azriel, and then threw Eris a weary glance. “I was told I could be of help?”

***

“We offered the Bone Carver a chance to return to his home world, but he had no interest in going back,” Feyre said from her seat at the head of the small table. “He suspected it had become nothing more than dust on a plain after being abandoned for so many millennia. From what he told us, it seemed that Koschei and the Weaver were content to stay here, worshiped as death gods by the ancient Fae of that era.”

“But did we ever truly have the means to send him back? The text Amren had been decoding was an unbinding spell for her Fae form, but nothing more. Right?” Azriel asked. Eris listened intently, eyes volleying between them.

“Amren said there were other spells in the Book that could’ve potentially sent him home,” Feyre admitted with a grim expression.

“Where is the Book now?” Eris asked. Feyre blushed and glanced down guiltily.

“I threw it into the Cauldron,” she said with a wince. She looked at Azriel apologetically. Eris quirked a brow.

“And what did you hope to achieve by doing that?” he asked dryly. Feyre scowled at him.

“The Cauldron was breaking apart, ready to devour our world. I panicked,” she snapped. Eris rolled his eyes with a sigh. “It’s not like you’d be able to read it anyways,” Feyre mumbled.

“What did he tell you of Koschei’s curse?” Azriel asked. Feyre refocused her attention on him.

“Very little. He told us he allowed himself to be locked in the Prison by the same Fae female who trapped his siblings. He mentioned something about her being his salvation, but that her bloodline was long gone now.” She sighed as she recalled the conversation. “He did love to hear himself talk, so who knows how much of it was genuine,” she said. “He also said Koschei’s influence was considerable, even contained to the lake. He was afraid of him.” Feyre shrugged.

Azriel looked at Eris but he seemed deep in thought and his eyes were distant.

“Thank you, Feyre.” She nodded and looked like she wanted to say more, but seemed to decide against it. She stood and squeezed Azriel’s shoulder affectionately with a smile, and he returned it. She gave Eris a stiff nod and then winnowed home.

“What are you thinking?” Azriel asked.

“There was something I read, about a Fae who bound three demons to the earth. There was a bit about two binding spells, similar in nature to those that contained the Weaver and the Bone Carver. The third excerpt was vague, only a sentence or two about a curse tied to the power in the female’s blood. She was described as a Fae with the power of flames.” He shrugged, but his eyes were swirling intensely. “I wonder if the Boner Carver was mistaken in thinking the bloodline had ever truly died off.” Azriel’s furrowed his brow, trying to follow Eris’s train of thought.

“Many bloodlines possess the gift of fire,” Azriel pointed out. Eris nodded pensively.

“That is true—my mother and father being a prime example. It’s just curious,” he said mildly. “I suppose it’s too much to hope that if Koschei were freed, he’d simply find his way home and leave us in peace?” Azriel snorted and Eris smiled at him.

As they cleaned up and returned the books to the cart nearby, Azriel considered what Eris had told him. Something was bothering him about their conversation, but he couldn’t put a finger on what exactly it was.

He’d worry about it tomorrow. He would ask Rhys—his brother would surely have more insight than Azriel. After all, as High Lord, his education had surely been extensive and thorough. He ducked his head to hide his small smile and reached for another book.

***

Eris and Azriel returned to the House proper to find Nesta lounging in an armchair in the cozy little library above the mountain. She looked up as the males entered, eyes bright and aware as they passed over Eris, examined him and then flicked to Azriel. She snapped her book shut and stood.

“I was just leaving,” she said.

“You don’t have to,” Azriel replied and smiled. He didn’t want to chase her away. This place had become her home, after all. She returned the smile and shook her head slightly.

“It was a long day. I’m tired.” He wasn’t sure if it was true. “Eris.” She gave him a sharp smile and silver flames swirled in her eyes.

“Nesta Archeron.” His smile was feline and his eyes twinkled with mischief. “You are more magnificent with each passing day.” She snorted and rolled her eyes, unfazed by the compliment, and Azriel stifled a laugh.

“And you are full of shit,” she replied with syrupy sweetness. Eris’s smile grew and he laughed and bowed his head when she breezed by him.

As she strode out of the room, they each claimed an armchair and settled in to read—this time for pleasure.

***

“What the fuck are you doing here?” a voice snarled from the entryway. Azriel stiffened and his stomach dropped as he saw Cassian standing at the door, glaring at the male beside him. Shit. He was supposed to be in Windhaven. His hair was windswept and he still wore his Illyrian leathers, like he’d only landed seconds ago. His siphons glinted as he stepped into the room.

“Cass…” Azriel glanced at Eris and stood, his shadows skittering around him restlessly. “We were researching Koschei. Rhys suggested we start with the library beneath the House.” That much was true, though they had finished their work hours ago and Eris only remained because they wished to spend time together. Not that he would ever admit that to Cassian.

Eris remained seated and slowly raised his eyes to Cassian, as if he could barely be bothered to look up from his book. His lips curled in a sneer, something cruel flashing in his eyes.

“How lovely of you to join us. Unfortunately, I don’t think you’ll be much help, as this task requires the ability to read,” Eris said with mocking sympathy.

Azriel whipped his head towards Eris. Gods, he could never keep that wicked mouth shut. Cassian’s wings flared at the insult, his entire body trembling with barely-contained violence. Fuck.

“Eris, stop. Cassian, I didn’t know you’d be here. Nesta said you’d be in Windhaven tonight,” Azriel said firmly, stepping between them. Cassian ignored him, his eyes still pinned on Eris. He took a step forward and growled, fist clenching like he ached to pummel it into Eris’s pretty face.

“Use your words, Cassian,” Eris said slowly, as if Cassian were truly a moron. Azriel cringed.

“Fuck you, Eris,” Cassian bit out. His shadows swirled faster, sensing the tension in the room. Eris laughed darkly.

“No one told me about your quick wit,” he mused, brow arching. “And all this time I’d merely assumed you’d taken one too many blows to the head to form a coherent thought.” His smile was vicious.

“Eris.” Azriel knew this would not end well. Cassian snarled at Eris, siphons flashing, and took another step towards him. Azriel blocked his path and Cassian shoved him out of the way hard enough that Azriel was forced to concede a few steps.

Eris was on his feet in front of Azriel in a blink, shoving Cassian back with considerable force. “Keep your fucking hands off him, brute,” he hissed, his eyes near glowing with rage.

Cassian stumbled, eyes flaring wide at the staggering display of strength. Very rarely did anyone get the upper hand on him. Cassian recovered quickly and glanced between them in anger and disbelief. Azriel blinked at Eris, shocked at the unexpected display of protectiveness.

“So you two are friends now? What the fuck, Az?” Cassian’s voice was cold, but Azriel could hear the hurt beneath it and his stomach twisted with guilt. He didn’t know how to respond, how to explain, but he didn’t get the chance.

“Cassian.” Nesta’s voice was hard and filled with warning as she stepped into view behind him. Cassian’s wings tucked in at the sound of it. “Come.” She held out her hand and Cassian looked at her and then back to Azriel and Eris. He shook his head in disgust and glared at Azriel.

“I’m disappointed in you, Az.” With that, he turned and took Nesta’s outstretched hand and they disappeared around the corner. Azriel blew out a slow breath, his wings sagging slightly as he turned to face Eris.

“What was that?” Azriel asked, exasperated. Eris wouldn’t meet his eyes as he shrugged. Azriel sighed. “Did you have to antagonize him?”

“Yes. I find that I can’t help myself,” Eris said mildly.

“He’s my brother,” Azriel pointed out. Eris just looked at him. Considering the relationships Eris had with his own brothers, Azriel supposed that likely meant very little to him. Azriel sighed loudly and massaged his temple where a headache was already forming. “Let’s just call it a night.”

“Alright,” Eris replied. He stretched, baring a sliver of skin above his belt. Azriel stared at the faint trail of hair that disappeared into the waistline of his slacks, both his headache and Cassian instantly forgotten. When he brought his eyes back up, Eris was grinning at him. He stepped closer to Azriel and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips.

Azriel marveled at the open display of affection. No one else was around to see it, but it still had something fluttering happily in his chest.

***

Eris winnowed them back to Azriel’s apartment, directly into his bedroom. His mouth was on Azriel’s before either of them could take a step. Azriel groaned against his lips and opened for him as Eris swept his tongue against his own. Eris gripped the back of his neck and pulled him closer, devouring his every breath like he was starved for air.

Azriel whispered his name as Eris licked and sucked at his neck. The feel of that hot mouth on his skin sent a thrill shivering down his spine, through his legs, and his cock hardened instantly. Eris’s movements were frantic, desperate—he pulled off Azriel’s shirt and shoes, removed his pants and pushed on his chest until his thighs hit the bed and he fell backwards onto the mattress in only his undershorts. Eris looked down at him and flame simmered in his eyes.

“Take them off,” Eris ordered, his voice laced with sensual dominance. Azriel obeyed, slowly removing the tight, black briefs, until he was completely bare before Eris, his cock thick and hard against his stomach. His wings flared as he leaned back on his elbows and let Eris look his fill. “Do you think of me? When you touch yourself?” The words were a low caress. Azriel’s skin burned at the question, under the heat of that gaze, and he nodded slowly. “Show me.”

The command sent a tremor of pleasure through Azriel’s body. His heart raced as he gripped the base of his cock tightly. He kept his eyes on Eris as he dragged his fist slowly up his length and twisted it over the head. His shadows curled around Eris, surrounding him in a dark cloud.

“Harder,” Eris demanded. Azriel obeyed and pumped his length again, hand fisting tightly as he worked himself. Eris’s eyes were like twin flames as devoured every stroke of Azriel’s scarred hand.

He finally stepped closer and trailed his warm hands up Azriel’s legs, over his muscular thighs, and pushed them apart slowly. He grabbed Azriel’s hips and leaned his head down to drag his lips across the skin there, kissing and biting so close to where Azriel wanted him—until Azriel was writhing with need.

Eris straightened back up and gazed down at him and he nearly whimpered at the loss of those warm lips on his skin. Eris kept his eyes on Azriel’s as he removed his jacket and then pulled his shirt over his head. Azriel watched, transfixed, as he unbuttoned his pants and slid them down his muscular legs. He towered over Azriel in nothing but his briefs, his arousal already straining against the fabric.

Eris’s amber eyes pierced Azriel to his very soul. “You’re perfect,” he breathed. Eris’s voice was like silk over his skin and Azriel’s heart leapt at the words. Eris stepped forward and then slowly lowered to his knees between Azriel’s thighs. His hands trembled as he grasped Azriel’s hips once more.

And then Eris trailed his tongue from the base of Azriel’s cock all the way to the tip and licked the drop of moisture from the head. Azriel moaned and let his head fall back in pleasure, his shadows swirling languidly.

“I love the way you taste,” Eris purred, low and seductive. His lips closed over his cock and he took him deep in his throat, hand fisting him tightly as he pumped him in time with the bob of his head. Azriel’s skin was on fire at the feel of Eris’s mouth on him. He thrusted his hips up as his length slid between those lips, his fingers tangling loosely in Eris’s silky red hair. Azriel chanted his name like a prayer with each lick of his tongue, each brush of his hands against his skin. Eris, Eris, Eris. There was nothing but the two of them.

Eris licked him again and pumped his hand slowly over Azriel’s length. “Do you trust me?” He pressed a light kiss to the broad head, licked his tongue over the slit.

“Yes,” Azriel breathed. He’d never let himself be so vulnerable with anyone, male or female, in his entire long life—had never trusted anyone enough to do so.

Eris rose and then knelt on the bed between Azriel’s spread legs. He leaned over Azriel, both hands on either side of his hips. He kissed a trail up his stomach, across his broad chest and then he claimed Azriel’s lips with his own. Azriel lost himself in the pleasure of it, would take whatever Eris would give him and be grateful for it. Their mouths clashed together, and Eris growled deep in his throat. Azriel dragged him closer, so his full weight rested on him, and stroked his hands over Eris’s broad back, speared them through his hair. Eris devoured Azriel’s mouth with his own until they were both grasping at each other desperately. He could feel Eris’s hard length against his stomach and groaned into his mouth.

Eris broke the kiss first, panting slightly, and pushed himself up on his knees. He looked down at Azriel and smiled, his eyes sultry and bright as his hand reached down to stroke him tightly, setting an agonizingly slow pace.

His other hand caressed his hip, his thighs, and then slid down between his legs. His knuckle brushed the sensitive skin of his sack and Azriel’s hips bucked at the sensation. Azriel closed his eyes and lost himself in the intoxicating touch, drunk on the smell and feel of Eris, all warm spice and crisp apple cider and soft skin. He felt Eris pause briefly and then the soothing smell of massage oil wafted up to him.

“I’m going to take care of you, Azriel.” His shadows danced around them at the pure dominance in his deep voice. Azriel could only nod, beyond words. Azriel felt Eris’s finger press against his ass, massaging and circling the tight ring of muscle while his other hand continued to pump him steadily. Azriel was mindless with lust and the intimate touch had pleasure surging through his blood. Eris pushed his finger inside slowly and Azriel groaned.

Eris dragged his hand up Azriel’s length again, and then slowly added another finger, prepping him to take every thick inch. He pumped his fingers in time with his cock and Azriel lost himself in the ecstasy of it. His wings twitched with each delicious pass of his hand and his heart beat frantically in his chest. He wanted more, and Eris obliged him.

He removed his fingers and Azriel opened his eyes to watch as Eris slid his oiled hand up his own length, spreading the drop of moisture across his tip and down his shaft. His amber eyes burned with dark fire as he lined himself up with Azriel’s entrance.

Azriel felt the head of Eris’s cock brush against him. He pushed the tip in an inch and Azriel tensed at the stretch, the fullness, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Look at me, Az.” His deep voice was low and demanding and the sound of it had Azriel’s eyes snapping open. They locked on Eris, the male so beautiful and magnificent above him that Azriel’s breath caught in his throat. “You can take it.”

Eris gripped his hip tightly in one hand as he waited for Azriel to nod, to relax, his whole body trembling with restraint. He swirled his other hand around the head of his cock again and Azriel groaned softly and spread his legs wider in permission.

Eris pushed in another few inches and both males moaned in unison. He withdrew slightly and then rocked his hips forward again, sinking deeper. Azriel’s shadows coiled around Eris’s arms and circled his body like snakes, like they wanted to be close to him. Eris didn’t seem to notice, too far gone in his pleasure. He paused to let Azriel adjust to the size of him before the last full thrust had him seated to the hilt. The flame in his eyes danced and his broad chest glistened with sweat. His eyes trailed over Azriel’s face, his chest and then lower, to where they were joined.

“Look at you,” he crooned. Azriel almost came undone at the sound of Eris’s smooth, sinful voice. He withdrew his hips and then pushed back in slowly, inch by inch. Amber eyes met his own. “So perfect,�� he groaned.

Eris began to move his hips in a steady rhythm and Azriel’s head spun with the sheer pleasure of it, unlike anything he’d ever felt before. He felt release already gathering at the base of his spine as those elegant hands worked him, as Eris’s body moved inside his own, as he whispered filthy praise in his ear and kissed him so tenderly that Azriel’s heart threatened to burst. Each deep thrust brought him closer to the edge.

“Gods, Azriel,” Eris groaned. His name was a plea from his lips. Eris’s eyes smoldered as he watched himself move inside him. “You feel so good,” he rasped. He withdrew and slammed back in hard and Azriel moaned.

Each thrust was slow and deep, each pass of his hand smooth and graceful. Eris wrung every drop of pleasure out of Azriel until he was boneless and dazed. Eris increased his pace, hips rocking against Azriel frantically. He leaned over him and dragged his lips across Azriel’s neck, licking and sucking, his teeth grazing the soft skin. And then Eris bit down, just breaking the skin, and Azriel felt himself shatter apart.

Eris’s hips jerked roughly and he squeezed Azriel’s cock hard and then they were both crashing over the edge as climax roared through them. Azriel came across his own stomach as Eris emptied himself inside him. His shadows fragmented around him and stars danced behind his eyelids as wave after wave of pleasure washed over him. Eris collapsed onto Azriel, panting, his hips twitching with each pulse of his cock.

When they had finally come down and their breathing had slowed, Eris pulled out slowly and padded to the bathing room. Azriel could hear the water running and then he was hauled out of bed and guided to the already steaming shower.

Then, like he’d promised, Eris took care of him. He washed Azriel’s body and his wings. He gently dragged his fingers through his dark hair and massaged his scalp. When they were both clean and exhausted, Eris dried him off with a fluffy towel, winnowed him directly to bed and pulled the blankets over his naked body. Eris slipped in beside him and held his face in his hands before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. His amber eyes shone with emotion, but Azriel was too tired to decipher it.

“Sleep, Azriel.”

And so he did.

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

Full Chapter List

Tag List: @unanswered-stars @futurehunt @christeak

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lightvsdark18 · 7 months

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JP Book 7 spoilers (this was a random story that turned into more than the original plan)

They stopped in an abandoned building, pulling their hood down and staring up at the thorns covering it like serpents. They removed their cloak and stuck it on a tree, then tugged tightly on their armor and entered the abandoned home.

The thorns reached out and clawed at their armor as they stepped through the mess of vines, looking for the room they were searching for. The vines became thicker the deeper they went, having to draw their blade and carve a path through.

Finally the large doors were in front of them, pressing their hands on the old doors and taking a deep breath before pushing it open. There they stood, gazing into the space of the throne room, vines covering the floor as a cradle sat beside the two thrones.

They walked forward, stepping on the thorns as it scratched up their boots. They reached the thrones and kneeled down like a servant bowing to their rulers.

"Princess Meleanor and Prince Levan-" they looked towards the left throne. "Knight of Dawn and Queen Leia-" they looked towards the right throne.

"Your sons have become strong, independent men. They have achieved great things and brought peace between the humans and fae. Even though your time with them was cut far too short, know they are sons to be proud of."

They gazed at the left throne. "Lilia Vanrouge hatched your son and guided him to be a mighty king. He connected Malleus to humans and taught him how to understand his neighbor. I know you distaste for humans, but know Malleus has made beneficial bonds and grown to be greater because his human friends."

They gazed at the right throne. "Lilia Vanrouge raised your son despite knowing his identity. He raised him to kind-hearted and dedicated man. Though his crown is gone, he is a powerful knight, his strength is unmatchable and his loyalty unwavering."

Their eyes moved back and forth between the thrones. "I'm glad to have the chance to meet them and be called their friend."

They unzipped a pocket on the side of their leg and took out a picture. "I came here today to honor the man who gave your sons a chance at life by delivering a memory of them before he parted from this world."

They stood up and set the picture on the dust covered blanket in the cradle, showing an older Malleus, Silver and Sebek with white haired Lilia in the middle.

They stood before the thrones again and bowed, saying goodbye. They turned away and left the castle. They retreated their cloak and found a bat behind it. It looked at them and tilted its head at them.

Then a raven fought down and rested on the bench beside the bat, both looking at each other and back at them. Then a firefly, a dove and a blue bird sat down on the leafless tree, all staring at them before taking off together.

#twisted wonderland #twst book 7 #twst chapter 7 #twisted wonderland book 7 #written work #stories #lilia vanrouge #twst levan #meleanor draconia #knight of dawn #twst princess leia

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auroragehenna · 5 months

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Commision writing

CW/TW: Angry whumper, smartass whumpee, stabbing, threats of further torture, torture, implied fantasy racism, charming, DND whump Word count: 1'077

„I just like to wear them since I got them from a quest with a giant and a halfling. But I don‘t really need them. Everything below me though…They’re tiny. Definitely more necessity than fashion accessory. Well then, I have to go, safe travels.“

Fae didn’t notice the hooded figured following her out of the tavern. She walked towards the forest and quickly steered to follow a dirt path through its midst.“

The hodded figure, so long quietly following her, now bolted forward and tackled the young woman, using the element of surprise to drip a near-shining blue liquid from her fingertips into her mouth.

Fae let out a startled yelp as she was tackled to the ground. Her head hit the grass with a thud and the air getting knocked out of her lungs causing her to gasp and gulp down the poison.

„Aww what happened? Imp got your tongue?“

„Just surprised, that‘s all.“, Fae replies, hiding her growing horror as paralyzing numbness spreads through her body.

„That so?“, the hooded woman asks, clearly unimpressed. She roughly took a hold of the other’s arm and let’s it drop. Apparently satisfied she rises and her hood slides off her head. Exposing her black hair and sharp face. Yellow eyes pinning down her victim as she draws her rapier out of it‘s sheath. „So. Care to repeat what you said before?“

Fae tried her best at mimicking a shy smile over the paralytic. „What do you mean?“

Zestia delivered a fast blow over the length of the female's stomach. "Alright then, let's start with something easier. What's your name?"

Fae grunted in pain at the deep cut, it had felt reckless, careless even. "Fae. My name is Fae. What's yours?"

Zestia actually smirked a bit at that. "You have no right to my name. Now apologize for what you said before.", she demanded and pointed the rapier at Fae's face.

"I'm sorry I offended you, I truly meant no harm, please let me live.", Fae acted.

Zestia's face got hard. „Oh, I see. You're one that would talk their way out of everything, right?“ The Yuan'ti's eyes seemed distant as she spoke again. "One day you have to learn that talking won't save you."

Alright, change of plans. „Uff you learned that the hard way?“, Fae taunted.

Zestia‘s eyes lit up with rage and she stepped on Fae‘s throat, delighting in the choked sound it caused. The Yuan‘ti raised her rapier only to stab it down into the other‘s abdomen, right into the previous cut.

A mix between a groan and a poorly-supressed scream escaped Fae. Her eyes boring into her attacker's.

Zestia crouched down and in doing so leaned her body weight onto her rapier, widening the wound. „Anything else you wanna try, before I end your misery?“, she lured, hoping to get another foolishness out of her mouth so she could punish her further.“

The gears in Fae‘s head were turning. Amplified by the pain. What did her attacker mean by ending her misery?! Okay no, that was obvious. Shit, she had to come up with a plan. Why was this woman so fucking entitled? She had to be a noble of some sort. Maybe that will hit. "If I may speak…?“

„You don’t appear to do anything else.“, Zestia retorted pointedly, moving the rapier, deliberately slow.

„I truly regret I called you short, M'lady."

Zestia took a breath, closing her eyes to not close her hands around Fae's throat right here and now. Instead she opens them again, inspecting the girl laying underneath her. The paralytic should wear off soon...Good. Her eyes drift over Fae's pointed ears and the hotness inside of her burned. So instead of closing her hands around her throat she made eye contact, slowly removed the rapier from the girl's body-laying it down next to them both, and ever so gently plucked a loose curl out of Fae's face and to the side of her head. She silently urged the girl to keep her eye contact and continued petting her hair. "Ssh, ssh. It's alright. You can stop thinking."

Fae shortly held her breath as Zestia touched her hair. When she started speaking her eyes went wide. "I-I can't be charmed. My elven ancestory-"

Zestia lay a finger on Fae's lips, effectively silencing her. "Ssh, ssh. Yes, you can. By me, but don't worry, it won't hurt, you can just stop worriying. After all you're always doing that, aren't you? Gears turning, trying to figure everybody out, always calculating your next move. Worrying if people will like you. Its alright. You can rest now. Just listen to my voice." She can see her targets eyes go even wider in terror as she noticed that it really is working. She had never been charmed before of course. Gosh it was so hard to keep herself from grinning. She could basically feel the elve melt under her, apparently she hit a soft spot.

It was getting harder and harder to think and Fae was at a total loss. A feeling she never wanted to feel. Before there had been at least a rush, at least...But this-this was-no no. Bad. How could the voice of somebody that made her hurt so much feel so...warm!?

Zestia smiled. "Looks like it's really hard for you to relax isn't it. Let me help you, it must have been ages since you last felt safe. And so warm." Zestia stretched out two fingers and closed Fae's heavy eyelids. She wasn't even paralyzed anymore, but she didn't notice it.

Fae wanted to panic when the other closed her eyes, but it was impossible by now. And the darkness that now settled over her, took away her last bits of distraction. Oh no.

"It's okay now, you can rest, just listen to me, you did amazing. I never met one as strong and clever as you. I have to admit I'm impressed."

That's right, she was good at this, always had been. And now she was so tired, if she could just rest a little bit...Just a tiny moment...

Zestia grinned as she could feel her power take over completely. "There we go, smartass.", she murmured. She leaned back and quickly went to work. Cleaning her rapier before sheating it again and putting the minimum of bandages on Fae so she wouldn't actually pass out on the way before gently guiding her forward, repeating sweet nothings from time to time.

To be continued!

Taglist: @yourlocalgaefae33, @greatkittencloud, @bisexuawolfsalt, @imnotamurdereripromise

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separatist-apologist · 1 year

Text

Throw Me To The Flames

You could drag me through hell if it meant I could hold your hand

Summary: Elain only ever meant to deliver a message to Vassa on behalf of her sister's court. She never intended to see Lucien.

And she CERTAINLY didn't mean to get in the way of a knife that was only ever meant for his chest.

Kidnapped, and dragged helpless to the continent, the two will have to work together if they want to survive.

Note: HAPPY HOLIDAYS to my BEST @acotargiftexchange, @fieldofdaisiies

I hope you enjoy this as much as I have enjoyed hanging out with you!!!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Read More AO3

It took Elain and Lucien almost three full days before they reached the outskirts of the sprawling mountainside city Corsicana. Elain was practically dead on her feet while Lucien fussed over her appearance, tucking hair around her ears and face to try and hide what they were. Dusk had settled over them, hiding them further from view. She knew he was thinking of spending two full nights in some tavern inn, sleeping off the walking, resting, and hopefully coming back into their magic.

Elain didn’t dare tell him hers had begun to creep back in the day before. She’d felt like tingling against her fingertips like she’d cut off circulation for too long. It took her an embarrassing amount of time to realize it was her sight creeping back in, along with their shared bond which had begun shimmering between them again.

Elain privately figured Lucien had been kept under with a much larger dose of fae bane, but if hers was starting to creep back, it wouldn’t be long until his did, too. How long could she pretend? She didn’t want him to take her back.

It was a terrible plan, borne the night before when Lucien had wadded into the shallow part of the river. He’d carefully rolled his pants up to his knees and his sleeves to his elbows with a roguish grin.

Watch this, he’d said before reaching into the crystalline water and pulling two trouts upward by their slimy tails. He’d wanted to impress her, which worked. Elain had gasped, and then asked Lucien if it hurt the fish, to which he laughed himself hoarse before reminding her this was their dinner.

In the aftermath, Lucien had scooted a fraction closer toward her and offered to teach her to fish, too. If you want, that is.

Devoid of any innuendo, Elain had turned to him and wondered what else Lucien could teach her. What skill had been absent from her education because she’d been human, neglected because Elain didn’t have a mate willing to crest the deficit like her sisters did? And though she’d felt the bond flickering, bringing with it the undeniable heat of want, she’d said nothing. It was the first time she felt valued. Elain meant to hold on to that for as long as she could.

No one on the edge of the city paid them any mind, save to thrust cups in Lucien’s direction and ask for money. He kept his hand firmly in her own, head down so the newly formed shadows of dusk hid his beautiful face. Elain was too curious to follow suit, though she kept her hood firmly in place.

It wasn’t like the village they’d stayed in before. Everything was tighter here, packed so closely it felt as if the pointed roof buildings—some seven or eight stories high—were stacked on top of each other. It lacked the scent of rotting sewage that had faintly permeated the air back there, and Elain supposed that was because a place as large as Corsicana had a robust sewage system.

The closer into the main square of the city Elain and Lucien got, the denser the crowds became. He wasn’t wrong when he’d said no one paid them any attention. Lucien ducked to a little street cart and paid for two small cinnamon-dusted cakes without anyone realizing a faerie had been the one to hand over those coins.

He didn’t know that once upon a time, those circular cakes had been one of her favorites. Elain knew Lucien was guided solely by his stomach. Human food didn’t taste half as good as fae food, and at that point, the two of them would have eaten leaves fried in oil gratefully if it meant no more fish, fruit, and dried meat. Everything smelled good and when she took a bite, she found it was almost as good as she remembered.

Lucien shoved the entire thing into his mouth with bulging cheeks, his one eye not hidden behind the eye patch practically rolling upwards into his head. His steps hurried, leading Elain over the wide road that had clearly been paved and repaved and then paved again. Each time it seemed to be made bigger for carts drawn by horses and the throngs of people who lived there.

“Here,” he murmured, pulling open a heavy wooden door. The smell of stew flooded her senses, nearly driving Elain to her knees. It was far easier to acquire a room. Lucien asked for two nights, though she wasn’t sure that was necessary, and asked for something with a private bathroom. Elain knew he was overcharged for it, but Lucien didn’t seem to care. He asked for a layout of local restaurants and then they were all but running up three sets of sturdy wooden steps.

She squealed when she saw it. This room was far larger and lovelier than the room before. The bed was big enough to easily accommodate them both, and there was no tiny tub in the middle of the room, but another closed door that led to both a toilet and a large, square tub someone like Lucien could mostly stretch his legs into.

While she bounced to the bed, plopping atop the white goose down bedding, Lucien paced towards the bay window to peer down at the street. “There’s a wedding happening not far from here. It seems like half the city is preparing to celebrate.”

“Good for them,” Elain replied, eyes shut. Lucien’s words brought back preparations for her own now-ruined wedding. She’d been intending to do the same—even her old village would have been sent things so they could participate in the festivities. What had Graysen done with them all, she wondered? Had he still sent it so the food and flowers wouldn’t go to waste? Or merely tossed it all?

“We should join them,” Lucien said, unaware of the new bent in her thoughts. “I could use a stiff drink.”

“I don’t want to,” Elain said, sitting up to look at him. Lucien was still peering through the latticed window, unfastening his cape absently. He didn’t turn to her at all when she said she didn't want to.

“No? You want to stay in bed all evening?” he asked, his voice dropping half an octave. “I can live with that.”

“I don’t…” she was embarrassed now. “I just—Gray and I were supposed to have a wedding like this. I don’t want to celebrate a human wedding.”

Lucien turned to face her fully. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, he asked, “What did you like about him?”

“What do you mean?” she replied, desperate not to have this conversation. She was tempted to order him not to say Gray’s name at all, just as he had done with Jesminda. Lucien had softened and even told Elain some stories of his almost wife. How she’d liked being in nature and sleeping in trees and had been, by all accounts, the sort of free spirit that Elain would probably never be accused of being. She often felt bad for how jealous she was of a dead woman.

Lucien shrugged. “I’ve met him. He’s an insufferable asshole if we’re being frank. I’m glad you escaped him.”

Escaped him. Elain stared at Lucien open-mouthed. “When did you meet him?”

“That’s his manor he’s offered up to Vassa. I suppose he thinks putting up the exiled Queen might earn his family goodwill once she’s restored to the throne. I don’t begrudge him his political machinations. I do hate him, though, for having you.”

Elain swallowed. “We were in love,” she whispered, perfectly aware that fae-born Lucien was never going to understand. Just as Feyre and Nesta had been grateful when Gray called it off, Lucien would only ever hear fae-killer and draw all the worst conclusions.

“Were you?” he asked casually. “The both of you?”

“Yes,” she insisted, her voice rising. He was treading dangerous water. “Don’t push this, Lucien.”

He didn’t listen. “I gave up my crown for Jes,” he told her, pulling his eyepatch off as though he needed to study her with both eyes. “My home. I would have given her my life, too, had my father allowed me any choice in the matter. And Graysen couldn’t eve—”

“He’s not you!” she shrieked, scrambling off the bed, heart pounding. “The comparison is unfair–”

“Because I would have stayed!” Lucien snapped back, color creeping up his neck. “If you came to me human and told me your heart was mine, I would have stayed with you! And deep, deep down, you know that what you offered him was unconditional, but for him, loving you came with strings.”

“I’m done talking about this,” she declared, turning to the bathroom. Lucien reached for her, grabbing her by the elbow and turning her back. Elain wasn’t having it. She didn’t need the comparison between them because Elain had loved Graysen. She’d loved him the moment she’d first met him, and every moment afterward. Even when he’d humiliated her, when he’d discarded her, Elain continued to love him.

She would always love him. Elain was still working to make peace with that fact. She had an immortal life ahead of her, and some part of her would always be in love with a man who had, as Lucien so cruelly put it, only loved her when it benefitted him. As if she hadn’t thought the same thing many, many times.

Elain pulled the knife from her dress and pressed it as viciously as she could beneath his jaw. Lucien staggered backward, hitting the wall so hard a painted pastoral scene rattled loudly.

“I said I was done talking about it,” she breathed, well aware she was not capable of hurting him. What had possessed her to do this, she wondered? Lucien’s russet eye was dark, practically burning as he gazed down at her. His neck flexed, the knot in the center bobbing when he swallowed.

“There’s no shame in loving someone, Elain,” he murmured. Something salty wafted through the room, tangling against Lucien’s usual scent. Elain had to blink, strangely fascinated by that smell. She wanted to bury her nose in the crook of his neck, wanted to see if his skin would taste the same.

She wanted to touch him. For the first time since she’d known him, Elain desperately wanted to be closer. Not seeking comfort because she was scared, or holding his hand to center them both. But to strip him out of his clothes and run her tongue over every inch of his skin until she forgot herself. The realization frustrated her. Elain stepped closer, holding the blade tighter against the healing line from the pict three nights before.

“You and I don’t share this in common, Lucien,” she hissed. His good eye flashed a warning—he disagreed. But he’d been right. He’d given up an easy life as the spoiled, though maybe neglected youngest son of a High Lord. Lucien could have spent the remainder of his life living in a place philandering if he’d wanted. Who would have cared?

Graysen hadn’t.

“Elain,” Lucien murmured, his expression softening. His fingers curled around her wrist, removing the knife from his throat. She shook her head, but Lucien, free of the non-existent danger she’d posed, pulled her into his chest.

“I would have stayed,” she whispered into his shirt. She didn’t hold him back, even when his arms curled around his body. “I would have done anything to be with him and he…” Not you. Never you.

Lucien rested his chin atop her head. “I know.”

“He acted as if I threw myself into that Cauldron,” she told him, her anger bubbling through her chest. “As if—as if I wanted this. Any of it!”

“I know,” he agreed. Lucien had been there, had tried to stop it for all the good it had done either of them. Elain twisted to look at him, planting her hands on his broad chest.

“If you had realized—and I had been spared—”

“I would still have wanted you,” he admitted, his jaw tight. Elain wondered if it pained him to admit that—that he wanted her. She needed to hear him say it, though. Elain needed to know that

Lucien wanted her, that he didn’t hate her. One of his hands slid down her back, halting just at her waist, and for the second time during their adventure, she caught him looking at her mouth. And for the second time, Elain intentionally lifted her chin, tilting her face so that if he wanted, he could have kissed her.

He didn’t. Lucien dropped his hold and instead offered her back her knife. “Don’t threaten me with this again, Elain. Not unless you plan to kill me.” She nodded, filled with shame. “I’m sorry.”

Elain was surprised to hear Lucien chuckle. “Don’t be sorry. I’ll be thinking about that for a long time. Right alongside the night you slapped me,” he added, making his way toward the bathroom.

“There is something wrong with you,” she called after his retreating form.

Elain suspected, as Lucien tipped his head back to laugh, that he was well aware of it.

LUCIEN:

Lucien had to empty his balls before he could talk to her again. Elain, furious, had put a knife against his throat and Lucien had never wanted to fuck her more. He’d wanted her so badly it had taken every ounce of restraint to keep from flinging that knife across the room—the very same she’d used to kill a pict in order to save his own life—push her onto the bed, and have his very wicked way with her.

He was grateful she hadn’t seemed to understand the shift in his scent, and more grateful she didn’t comment on how long he’d spent in the bathroom with its broken latch. He felt level-headed once he came and his cock deflated, letting his head resume operation of his body. He had done nothing but hold her hand and occasionally pull her into a hug. She didn’t need–or likely want–to be assaulted by the knowledge that Lucien was still obscenely attracted to her.

“Let’s go track down dinner,” Lucien said once he was back in that room. Elain was seated at the little breakfast table by the window, elbows on the wood, head in her hands. She looked tired.

“Dinner?” She brightened immediately. Lucien was forever grateful that Elain liked to eat the same way he did.

“Dinner,” he agreed. “We can bring it back if you like. I thought we could go around the vendors and see what smells good. You’re the expert on human cuisine so you can tell me what's good and what's not.”

Ignoring that Lucien had been living among humans, and thus likely had a very good grasp on what he enjoyed and what he didn’t, Elain nodded her head. This was, like so many things between them, a concession. His mate had been human and Lucien would have been foolish to pretend otherwise.

It made her happy, and Lucien was beginning to live for those moments. All the sadness seemed to seep from her as they donned their cloaks. Elain, a female who had once seemed revolted at the thought of physical contact, now slid her hand into his without a second thought. They traipsed back into the darkened city street hand in hand, a connected pair.

Elain pulled Lucien to a little dumpling cart and, after bemoaning quietly that it all looked good, Lucien paid three silver coins to get a little everything. He had so little money in this world, and no way to do all the things he wished he could. Treating her to food and a nice bed was, he hoped, an overture to a more serious courting when they returned and he had access to the money in his account.

The vendor put it all in a nice bag for Lucien, which meant when they stopped for charred lamb kabobs and flattened bread covered in what Elain promised was a savory sauce, Lucien had space to add that…and the little cakes she also wanted. He’d been beside himself when she’d jumped up and down at the sight, hands clapping together with a breathless, “I forgot about these.”

Lucien never would. They were out of space in their bag, but Lucien still had two hands, and just enough coins to get two tankards of ale, of which he thought he might end up drinking himself. He was perfectly fine with that, even after he took that first watery sip with a wrinkled nose.

“I told you it was gross,” Elain declared in a sing-song voice.

“Ale is ale,” Lucien replied, though he missed the brew from Autumn more than he cared to admit. He’d have taken a Spring wine or even the spirits of Velaris over what he currently had, and still, it was alcohol and Lucien was desperate. He’d chugged half of it by the time they reached their shared room.

Elain spread the food out over that round table, her cheeks warm with delight. “I know we’ll regret this when we’re walking again—”

“I never regret a good meal,” Lucien interrupted, falling into his chair with what he hoped was an easy grace.

“You will when you can barely walk because you’re so full of food.”

He only shrugged. “That's what the extra night is for. I’m out of all but my gold coins, and I don’t want to hand those over unless we have to. Tomorrow it’s back to lamb stew and day-old bread.”

“We have more than enough food for two days,” she told him, picking through the selection with her lady-like fingers.

“That’s what you think,” Lucien teased, waiting for her to take what she liked before he began heaping food on a napkin he was using like a plate. He could have eaten all of it himself without regret. Elain watched, wide-eyed and he almost made a joke about what it took to maintain his body.

The bed loomed just behind them and Lucien didn’t think he wanted to make her uneasy when that was certainly where they were headed next. He wanted an excuse to wrap himself around her, nose in her hair, and fall asleep without contrived distance.

He couldn’t stifle a groan when dough, vegetables, and spiced meat all exploded in a symphony of flavors in his mouth. It was, after days and days of unseasoned, bland food, quite possibly the best thing he’d ever tasted, even for human food.

Elain watched wide-eyed, her own food forgotten while she watched. Embarrassed, he mumbled, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she replied, her words breathless. Lucien took a deep inhale of the air, curious if there was something happening beneath what he could see. Her cheeks were flushed, her pupils dilated…but no arousal. That was for the best, he decided. He might lose his mind if he ever had proof she wanted him in a tangible way. In a way he could smell, could all but taste. The food between them muted whatever might have been happening and Lucien found he was grateful for it. Elain began to eat, a smile spreading over her face like a new sun over a darkened landscape. It was easy to forget just how beautiful she was, but Elain was unmatched when she was happy.

Stunning.

He was staring and he knew it.

Eat something, dumbass.

“What was it like?” Lucien asked once his body caught back up with his brain. “Being human, I mean.”

Elain shrugged, cocking her head as if she needed to think about it. Long strands of her hair, pulled from her usual style, spilled over her shoulder. Lucien was in trouble, his control slipping.

“It just was. Looking back, I can see how things were more rigid. I wore more layers, and there were more social protocols I had to adhere to, but truthfully I don’t think it was so different. The fae like to pretend they are without rules, and yet you have so many. It was not the adjustment Feyre likes to pretend it was.”

“Oh?” That was news to Lucien.

“Women–sorry, females–are allowed swords, but otherwise the same rules apply. Though, Feyre had her bow back when we were human and no one ever found it strange, and she always wore pants. Many human women do. The fae nobility are much like the human nobility. Females wear dresses and maintain the homes of their husbands, and are expected to have some level of chasteness before marriage that their male counterparts are not.”

Lucien frowned. “That’s not–”

“Cassian was furious when Nesta was sleeping with the males in town,” Elain interrupted blithely, shredding a piece of bread between her fingers. “I heard him talking to Rhys about it. You can say it doesn’t matter all you like, but it does.”

Lucien considered that. How would it feel, knowing your mate was bedding other males while ignoring you? He’d chosen to remove himself from Velaris as much as possible, in part to avoid knowing what Elain was up to. The mere notion that she’d been with another male filled him with jealousy he knew he had no right to.

He couldn’t help his question. “Are you doing the same?”

“See,” she replied, her point proven. “As if you have not.”

“Not since I met you!” Lucien insisted, looking back at his food. “Though I admit, I was…” Fuck, how to explain how casual he’d been before he’d met her. Before he knew about her at all. Sex was merely sex. With his mate—or, the female he’d assumed to be—gone, Lucien had merely sought out physical contact without messy emotions. He rarely bedded the same female twice, and when he did, he was careful to cut her loose before he cared for her. It had been a transaction of sorts. He offered pleasure and she, the same. In the morning he returned back to his life mostly satisfied.

“Really?”

Their eyes met. Lucien nodded, holding his breath while he waited for her to speak again. A soft smile bloomed over her face, and too late he realized that perhaps his absence had signaled something else to her.

“Of course,” he replied easily, ignoring how tight his body was. It had been a long time since someone had touched him or shown any physical affection at all. Lucien craved it. “And if you want to spend the next few decades philandering as I have done, all I ask is you do so outside of my awareness.”

She set her food down, fully studying him then. “And will you do the same?”

Lucien stuffed his mouth with several different dumplings, eyes rolling backward from the heat, the taste, the salt. He could only shake his head then, assuring her he would remain faithful to her if she decided she wanted to explore without admitting that he desperately wanted to be that teacher. If Elain had questions, Lucien wanted to answer them. With his hands, his cock, his mouth…and if she had particular desires, he wanted to help her fulfill them, even if it meant he only got to hear about them in the aftermath.

Elain’s cheeks were blazing. “I uh…okay. Thank you.”

That was certainly very human of her. He didn’t call her on it, well aware they were treading very dangerous water. Lucien changed the subject to his childhood in Autumn, telling Elain a very amusing story of the time he’d gotten trapped in one of Eris’s dog cages trying to pet puppies. She relaxed, though Lucien never did. Instead, he gorged himself to the point of uselessness just as he’d promised he would. Elain giggled and even sipped some of that second mug of ale before declaring it a lost cause.

And when she went to the bathroom to bathe for the evening, and thunder rumbled softly in the distance, Lucien was certain he was going to get his second night alone with her in that room. He tried to call up some of his magic, if only to throw Rhys a message.

We’re fine. Don’t come looking for us.

Nothing rose to the surface.

And Lucien felt relief.

ELAIN:

Elain left Lucien to clean their mess from dinner so she could take a bath. She needed it. Watching Lucien’s eyes roll back in his head, to the sound of him groaning as he took a bite had somehow become overtly sexual. He didn’t realize it, of course, which only made things worse. Elain couldn’t pick the exact moment she’d really started noticing him. The way he’d casually spread his legs in a chair, how his neck would flex when he spoke, or just how big his hands were.

It had been one thing to be curious about his body, and wholly another to want to know what it would feel like to be under him. To hear him make those same noises of satisfaction touching her. To see his eyes roll back in his head because he liked whatever it was she was doing to him.

Elain, luxuriating in near scalding water, considered that she didn’t have a lot of experience in that department.

She had enthusiasm, though. And a lot of books she’d snatched from Nesta back when they’d both lived in the same place. She understood, in theory, what he might like and anything she misunderstood, Lucien could merely explain.

“Stop it,” she whispered, forcing her thoughts back to neutral territory. What was wrong with her? They were supposed to sleep in the same bed that night, an almost impossible feat if she was too busy undressing him with her eyes. They were always on such shaky ground—happy one minute, divulging personal, painful truths the next. Elain didn’t want to expose herself to him both figuratively or literally—the idea that Lucien, who could have kissed her twice and hadn’t, might reject all of her, was so physically painful it destroyed the remainder of her arousal.

Outside, the world rained on some unlucky brides parade. Elain was privately relieved she might get a whole day in bed with Lucien. With nowhere to go and nothing to do, they could waste time sleeping and talking and eating before they ran out of time in that room and had to move on to the mountains.

Time was escaping her. She wasn’t ready to be done. Elain closed her eyes, listening to the sound of the pattering rain and the rumbling thunder while steam curled over her skin. She could hear the steady, reliable thud of Lucien’s heart alongside the warming bond in her chest as it stuttered back to life. Lucien didn’t seem to have any of his magic back at all. That made Elain feel a little better. She couldn’t winnow, though she had half a mind to ask him.

Elain drained the water when Lucien called impatiently, wanting to take a bath of his own. He’d let her go first, risking all the hot water which felt like the highest act of chivalry given how often they quickly bathed in mountain river water.

Thunder rattled the walls, pulling open the bathroom door which Elain had learned did not have a latch that worked. She froze, hands at her side, as she looked across the room at Lucien. He, too, was frozen from his place in bed, by all accounts lounging casually. He didn’t look away and she didn’t move while he studied her.

She understood what that salty smell had been earlier. It was his arousal. At least, Elain assumed when he immediately pulled up one of his legs while tugging on his trousers, as if to conceal whatever was going on beneath them. She lunged for a towel, suddenly embarrassed. This was the second time he’d seen her in some state of undress, though unlike the time before, Elain had let him look at her.

She slammed the door shut again, heart thudding painfully in her chest. His own matched the frantic beat, and she wore she heard him exhaling softly on the other end of the bedroom, as though intentionally trying to calm himself down.

What were they doing? Elain wasn’t sure she wanted to know and was deeply embarrassed by the time she was in her shift. Lucien was exactly where she’d left him, looking unbothered. Calm.

Casual.

“All yours,” she said, wishing her heart would calm down. He was so lovely, pulling his long hair from the leather strap and tossing it to the end table on the side of the bed he’d staked out. Elain pulled back the layers of bedding, determined not to look at him as she slipped beneath the clean sheets. She kept waiting for that bathroom door to slam shut.

When it didn’t, Elain looked up. Lucien had removed his shirt and was unfastening his pants, letting her study him in profile. She realized seconds before he shoved his pants to the ground what he meant to do. Blinking as though blinded by the sun, Elain clapped a hand over her mouth when Lucien turned to face her. It was pure, masculine pride etched over his face while he waited, clearly intending for her to watch him like he’d been caught doing.

“Now we’re even,” he said with a rakish smirk. That’s not what Elain would have called it, though she did exactly what he wanted. She’d been staring at his broad, sculpted chest since they’d first ended up in the wilderness—at first merely curious as to how men were set up.

It was desire, now, that had Elain’s eyes working her way down Lucien’s broad shoulders to his tapered waist. She bit her bottom lip so hard blood flooded her mouth when her eyes fell on the trail of copper hair that pointed towards the half-hard appendage hanging between his legs.

Elain couldn’t breathe at the sight, was clenching her fists beneath the blanket to keep herself from doing something truly stupid—like inviting him as he was into the bed. Lucien’s chest rose and fell rapidly, as if he, too, were holding himself still through sheer will and nothing else.

She gave herself a second to memorize the vein trailing up the side, noting it seemed to be lengthening beneath her very gaze and Elain didn’t want to consider the implications of that. Of what he might expect if she couldn’t stop staring. So she pointedly looked at his muscular thighs, covered in a light dusting of that same red hair that trailed over toned shins.

And then she was done. “Even,” she agreed, too breathless to be believed. Lucien offered her a jerky nod of his head and turned, his broad, scarred back and tight ass on display for only a moment before he vanished behind that door. Elain could have wept at the sound of the rushing tap water. She kicked off the blankets and pushed open the window, letting the sound of the raging storm outside and the spraying rain to calm her.

By the time Lucien strolled out, mercifully dressed, Elain was back in bed with only the lamp on Lucien’s side of the bed for light. She was exhausted from days of little sleep and walking—ever since the picts had attacked, Elain had been practically climbing into his lap at night, and every little noise woke her.

“Will you braid my hair again?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. Elain had to smother her smile.

“Of course,” she agreed. Lucien cleared his throat, his cheeks pink from what she hoped wasn’t embarrassment. What was she going to do when they were separated, she wondered. Lucien offered her up the comb and Elain began unknotting the tangles gently the way Nesta had often done for her when she’d been a girl. Elain hoped she might do it for her own daughters someday.

That had once seemed like an impossible dream, but now?

Elain was more hopeful than she’d ever been. Not that Lucien needed to know, but Elain was considering inviting him back to Velaris, as she’d once done. And this time, when he called, seeing him. Letting him court her, regardless of what happened over the next few days.

Elain scratched at his scalp, noting the way his shoulders relaxed. She could have spent half the night touching him, and was certain it would destroy their fragile peace. Rubbing herself against him like a cat in heat was a mistake.

One she was far too tempted to make. Elain plaited his hair and tried to pretend she wasn’t immediately delighted when Lucien threw out his arm in invitation. She didn’t have to wait until he fell asleep to put her head on his shoulder, nor did she have to ask him if she could sleep right up against him.

“Your feet are freezing,” he complained when Elain pressed them against his calves.

“You’re warm,” was all Elain said in response. Lucien was always warm, even without his magic, but beyond that, Elain just liked touching him. Even without the bond, which was all but purring in her chest, Elain had found touching him helped her sleep.

Lucien grumbled, leaning to extinguish the lamp on the side table. The two were plunged into near total darkness, safe from the storm just outside.

“If it’s dry out tomorrow, let's leave,” she whispered, well aware she was nuzzling into him like his favorite pet.

Lucien tightened his hold around her, fingers gripping her shoulder. “Here’s hoping the rain keeps up.”

LUCIEN:

A vicious clap of thunder pulled Elain from sleep with a soft scream. Lucien went just with her, every inch of him immediately alert. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dark. Lightning illuminated their room just long enough for Lucien to see the true fear on Elain’s face.

“Come here,” he ordered, his heart thumping painfully in his chest. Elain nodded, gulping down a messy breath of air before she let him tuck her back against his chest. There was no threat—only the storm around them, and the memories Elain would have for the rest of her life.

“What were you dreaming about?” he asked, stroking the stray curls that had escaped her braid. Elain pressed her nose into his shirt, her heart hammering loud enough it was the dominant sound in his own ears.

“Same as always,” she replied, more miserable than he’d ever heard her.

“The Cauldron?” he guessed. Elain nodded her head, carefully sliding her hand over his torso. Lucien didn’t move, curious to see what she might do. It was rare that she touched him beyond holding his hand. Elain wrapped herself around him until she was all but clutching his body to her.

Every inch of Lucien’s anxiety evaporated. He began undoing her braid, combing his fingers through her hair while Elain just breathed. Lucien was content to count her heartbeats, letting the steady drum lull him back to sleep. He might have refound peace, with her face pressed into the nape of his neck and her fingers curled into his ribs, had he not felt something wet touch his throat. Lucien blinked open his eyes, looking upwards at the ceiling to see if the rain had found some crack to seep through. Telling himself he’d merely imagined it, Lucien exhaled a soft breath, turned his face so his cheek was pressed into her now messy hair, and closed his eyes again. For a moment there was nothing but Elain’s heart, still beating quickly, and the rumbling, angry world around them.

And then that wet again, streaking from his collarbone to his jaw. Lucien frowned, his exhausted brain trying to make sense of what he was feeling. His own heart began to speed up as Elain hooked her leg over his waist.

“Did…did you lick me?” he asked, trying so hard not to move.

“I’m sorry,” she panted, though her thigh tightened over his stomach. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Lucien did, though. As the sweet scent of her arousal slammed into his chest, awakening the bond that had been long dark in Lucien’s chest. It was just a sliver, a pinprick of light in his otherwise bound body but the force of his need nearly wrecked him. He was tempted to turn on his side, to grab her face, and kiss her until he was breathless and she was pliant.

“The bond,” he managed, swallowing the urge to groan when she rubbed herself against him. “You feel it, that’s all.”

“I forgot what it was like,” Elain replied, her breath hot against his neck. “How it makes me want to touch you.”

“Cauldron boil me,” he whispered, forcing himself not to move. He was in danger of doing something he’d regret. Elain clearly felt no compunction at all, dragging her tongue just beneath his jaw. Lucien caught her before her mouth slanted over his and with words he’d never once dreamed of saying, begged, “Not like this.”

Her lips were mere inches from his own. They were sharing the same breath. Lucien was hard and he knew she could feel it given the way her leg was rocking against him. “No?”

“When I kiss you—and I intend to—it won’t be because the bond is driving you crazy.”

She rubbed her nose against his own and Lucien knew he wasn’t strong enough to stop the two of them from doing whatever was going to happen next. His hand was already gripping her hip, helping her rub herself against his thigh.

“No kissing, then,” Elain agreed, reaching for his wrist to lace her fingers through his own. She pinned his hands just above his head before fully straddling his waist. “This is…” she trailed off and Lucien, despite her attempts at restraining him, managed to use his leg to get her atop him with ease.

“This is a fever dream, I think,” Lucien replied, his lips ghosting over her own without quite touching.

“We won’t talk about it in the morning,” Elain promised, rubbing her cunt against his cock. Lucien’s eyes rolled up in his head, his hips arching into her. Even with her long shift and the ugly shorts beneath, and his trousers, he swore he felt the heat, the slickness of her arousal. He was no better than an animal in heat, grinding himself against her, his forehead pressed to her own.

“Lucien?” she panted, fingertips bruised into his skin. He merely moaned in response, unable to form a coherent word. “Will you judge me if I come like this?”

“Fuck no,” he replied, rolling his hips into her in a simulation of how he would have liked to fuck her. Lucien couldn’t keep his spine on the mattress, couldn’t stop his heavy breathing. He wanted to kiss her, wanted to strip her of her clothes, and feast on her body until she woke the entire inn.

“Will you?” she questioned, looking between their combined bodies as if she could see proof of his own building orgasm. Lucien was staining his pants with precum as it was, could feet his aching cock buzzing with desperation to be freed. To be in her.

He hadn’t considered what would happen when the bond came roaring back. Lucien had thought of his magic, of how it would feel to have it at his fingertips again. No longer powerless, hiding in the shadows, but a fae male who could easily protect his mate without resorting to tricks or teeth.

Now, though…Lucien thought they’d need to be forcibly separated by, perhaps, an entire sea and even then it might not be enough. Lucien might force his way back to her, might take her regardless of reason. And he thought, given how Elain was currently grinding herself against him, how she had him restrained, that she’d let him.

Elain’s teeth tugged at his ear lobe, causing Lucien to nearly come right then and there. She felt how his hips lost their rhythm, bucking beneath her like a youth with no control. “Is that what you like?” she asked, catching the thin skin of his neck between those same teeth.

“Yes,” he all but whimpered.

“Everywhere?” she questioned and fuck he was so ruined. Years of nothing had dragged him to this moment, pent up and hot. Was she close? Lucien couldn’t tell and was terrified of coming first.

“Yes,” Lucien admitted, because Elain was his mate and she was asking how to please him. She moaned, the sound reverberating through his bones. He pushed upwards, trying to break free of her only for Elain to shove back, inadvertently pressing her cunt harder against him. They both gasped at the rough friction, suddenly frantic for more.

“Elain,” Lucien pleaded, or perhaps prayed. He wasn’t sure anymore. Release was gathering along his spine, dragging him into a warm abyss Lucien didn’t think he’d ever visited before.

Nothing had ever felt half as good, which only served to excite him. If this was what it was like to not have her, what would happen when he did? When those legs parted with invitation and he had nothing but an endless expanse of time with which to fuck her?

He couldn’t remember why he wasn’t. He was so close to flipping her over and burying himself inside her when Elain’s gasping orgasm ripped through her. Lucien’s eyes flew open to watch, mesmerized and overwhelmed by how stunning she was. Flushed, her lips parted in a silent scream, Elain bore all her weight against his wrist, still rubbing against his erection. Lucien didn’t care that coming in his pants was impractical or he’d have to be up rinsing and drying them when he wanted to lay beside her and fall back asleep.

He came with a jerk of his body, pulled by the shimmering strings of the reawakened bond in his chest. He couldn’t breathe for a moment, his body arching so violently he heard his bones groan in protest. Lucien freed himself from her grasp, grabbing her back the back of the neck.

“Not like this,” Elain reminded him, turning her head mere moments before his mouth crashed against her cheek. He’d forgotten his earlier promise and was grateful Elain had stopped him. He nodded, still holding her against him as he came back down.

The aftermath was awkward. Lucien had no other way to describe it—not as she pulled herself from his grasp and slid back to her side of the bed, revealing a sticky, damp spot in the middle of his trousers from their combined release. The two stared at it, proof they’d wanted what just happened.

He’d promised to treat the whole thing like a dream, but Lucien also wanted to talk to her about it. He wanted to know if she’d enjoyed herself or if he’d crossed a line by not stopping her. He sat up, back facing her, as he grappled with those dueling wants. Lucien, ultimately, decided to give her what she’d asked for over satisfying his own insecurities was better.

“I’ll be back,” he told her, rising to his feet awkwardly. Elain watched with a guarded expression, her lips pressed tight. “Get some sleep.”

He’d made it four steps to the dark bathroom before she called, “Are you angry?”

Lucien froze. “How could I be angry with you?” he asked with more honesty than he’d ever meant to offer.

“I know we said we’d pretend this was a dream, but…”

Lucien waited for the crash. He’d been flying mere minutes before, soaring in a sky made of nothing but her. At that moment he was hovering over sharp rocks, waiting for the wind to pull away, to send him careening to his metaphorical death.

“I don’t want to pretend we didn’t…that we don’t like each other.”

Lucien turned, then, ignoring his pants or his need to clean himself. He faced her, his mate he’d spent years both wanting and resenting. “I like you, Elain.”

Blanket drawn up her chin, Elain’s once nervous face split into a bright smile, and once again Lucien was flying. She tucked a strand of hair behind an arched ear, a little shy for the female who had held his hands over his head and ground against him until she found release.

“I like you, too,” she admitted without any of the teeth-grinding disappointment he might have expected two weeks prior. Her admission was genuine, was sweet, was reminiscent of the same female he’d watched describe how honey was made in such explicit detail Lucien thought he could have started his own hive on her instruction alone. He offered her his own smile, one he hoped matched her enthusiasm and didn’t make him look as insane as he felt. Lucien felt crazy, in a good way.

His mate liked him. A low bar and still.

And still.

#elucien #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction #elain archreon #lucien vanseerra #elain x lucien #people were praising my restraint regarding the lack of smut but SURPRISE #thats done now

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sailor-aviator · 5 months

Note

👀

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

Well, I have a couple of them all set up and just waiting for me to finish a couple of projects before I start!

Let's start with The Yawning Grave! The Yawning Grave is actually another original fiction that I was working on and decided to test out as a fanfic. It follows Puck as she gets spirited away to the land of the fae after a chance encounter at a pub one night. She meets all sorts of mythical creatures as she treks through the unknown land trying to find a way back home, and one fae in particular has his eyes set on her...

Then we have Fortune & Glory which is an Indiana Jones AU that I'm super excited about!! It'll follow Jake Seresin as our local Indiana Jones and you, dear reader, with the nickname of Bucket! The two of you will be racing against the clock and the Nazis as you search for the lost staff of Moses!

For Bradley, we have Lord of Thieves, which I'm actually pretty excited for! It's going to be a Robin Hood AU, and I can't wait to sit down and plan the rest of it!

For Bob, I have an AU based off of Hadestown called "In Spite of the Way," and I'm soooooo excited for that one because Hadestown is tied for first as my favorite musical ever!

In terms of AU type universes, I have the Ghibli ones all set up, although I don't think they technically are in the same universe per se. But I'm still working on my Three Musketeers universe!! I think that'll be a lot of fun to do once I finish up the DPU!

Send me an emoji!

#answered #ask game #and then i still have ideas i haven't even toyed with yet lol #regency au anyone?

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thelov3lybookworm · 10 hours

Text

Never Meant To Be

Beron Vanserra x Reader

Summary: an elite member of the society and a poor girl from the lower part of the town are destined to never be.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: this is a beron fic. i do not in any way support abuse irl, but i wanted to rite for him. if you dont like beron, please dont read 😭

also. BIRTHDAY GIFT FIC FOR MY BELOVED @fell-in-luvs 🥹❣️

(dividers by @tsunami-of-tears <3)

anywho. enjoy!!

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Y/n paused midstep, curious eyes peering over the railing, trying to find where the sound was coming from. Hands tightened on the wooden bannister of the stairway, eyebrows furrowing. Maybe she should have brought a candle with her. The room was too dark for her to make out anything but the window in the far wall, lit up with the moonlight that spilled in, liquid and shimmery under the cover of night.

Breath escaping her lungs, Y/n descended the rest of the stairs, carefully tiptoeing so as not to wake her father sleeping on the floor above. By this point, she could recall the creaky steps from memory, and it was easy to avoid them. What she was more concerned about was bones lying around. Those sharp bones that flew around as her father butchered animals was the only thing Y/n was concerned about, really, considering she was barefoot.

Quietly, she made her way towards the window, slowly pulling open the drawer where she kept the candles. By the time her fingers wrapped around the waxy stick, her eyes had started drooping already. It hurt to keep them open, to the point she considered just returning to her room and ignoring the dripping liquid. But the area she lived in was poor, and the people here could not afford to waste resources. Water was precious, most of it being used up by the elites of the society, whatever little was left flowing down to the lower suburbs where Y/n resided with her father.

She brought out the candle, shutting her eyes tight before blinking them open again in hopes it would help her shake the fatigue that began weighing down her shoulders. Lifting her fingers to the wick was a task that seemed impossible, but she somehow managed to light the candle up. With that, she hurried towards the faucets in the kitchen, squinting. Sure enough, water dripped from the tap. A breath escaped Y/n as she reached her hand out, grabbing the handle and twisting until the water stopped dripping.

She turned, wondering if she should take the candle back to her room.

Whack.

Y/n blinked, wincing. What was that? She made her way back towards the window, peering out. As her gaze wandered out towards the street between the crowded homes, her eyes narrowed. A group of what looked like… higher up males messing around.

Scoffing, she turned away, ready to just go back to bed.

Alas, the males had other plans for her as the moment her attention flitted away, the sounds of howling and loud, obnoxious cheers reached her ears.

Pompous snobs. Rolling her eyes, Y/n decided that her father waking up because these boys who lived on their daddy’s money thought it’d be funny to be loud in the night, when everyone was sleeping, was not worth it. Her father was always so tired, and the few hours of rest he got were precious.

She yanked open the window, leaning her head out. "Hey! Shut it!"

The four males turned to look at her, their eyebrows raised. They all looked young, maybe around four hundred years old. They had expensive looking embroidered jackets on, their hair either slicked back or pulled into a ponytail.

"Oh? And what will you do if we don’t shut it?"

Jaw clenched, she studied the males. Two of them had dark hair, blue eyes, and the build of a teenage mortal. Possibly more into studying arts and literature than being a warrior. One had long, flowy blond hair, his eyes hooded and green like the skin of a toad.

That thought brought satisfaction to Y/n.

The one who looked the oldest among the fae, the one with short length auburn hair, stared straight at Y/n, no emotion on his face. The others had sneers and taunting smirks plastered on their faces, but not this one. He stood stoic, his eyes fixated.

She stared back at him for a few moments, unable to look away. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she somehow knew him. That she was supposed to know him.

But then he turned away, dismissing her. She stared at his back in bewilderment, her temper rising, sleep long forgotten.

Who did he think he was?

She wanted to call him, demanding an explanation. But that would have consequences, and neither she nor her father could afford it. Not to mention that if any of these males were a part of the high lord’s court, it would mean a death sentence or banishment.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Y/n retreated, blowing out the candle and shoving it back in its drawer before she stomped her way back to her room.

Y/n was mad because of the males behaviour, but more than that, she was mad at the fact that she was so bothered by the red headed male turning away from her, like she meant nothing. Like she was less than the dirt on the bottom of his boots.

Fuck him.

Sleep evaded Y/n for the rest of the night, her mind too busy trying to dissect her reaction to the male.

It was unusual for her. She never really cared for what people thought of her, having learned long ago not everyone would be nice to her all the time. But this male. He stayed on her mind, refusing to leave.

Morning came earlier than it should have. And with the first rays of the sun came her father’s booming voice, yelling at her to stop sleeping and to get her ass moving.

It grated on her nerves, and she had half the mind to yell back at him. But she pulled herself together, donning a simple dress. She did not help with the butchering, not really, but she did have to go out every morning to get some extra water from the creek nearby.

"Father! I am leaving!" She called out as she slid on her boots. A grunt was the only answer she got in return.

Early mornings were a precious time, for most of the people only started to leave their houses once the sun was higher in the sky. That meant that Y/n was all by herself at the creek.

Silence, cherished and peaceful, surrounded Y/n, only occasionally broken by the chirps of birds flying overhead in search of food for their younglings. The sun peeking out from behind the distant hills bathed Y/n in a soft warmth, warding off the early autumn chill. She was grateful for the sun’s loving embrace and its company as she settled down at the riverbed, the wet soil under her legs soft as she started to fill up her bucket.

Water gushed around her hand as she broke the water's current, filling up the vessel in her hand.

Crunch.

Y/n’s body locked up, her heart rising into her throat at the sound. No one should have been here. Not at this time. It was too early. Her instincts roared at her to get up, to flee. But she did neither.

She turned her head, glancing over her tensed shoulders to look for the predator that had decided to make her their prey. Because this was a predator, Y/n knew in her bones. Be it fae or animal, it was a predator.

Her eyes wandered, cautiously landing on the immaculately dressed male.

Amber eyes met her own.

Auburn hair. Amber eyes. Embroidered, expensive jacket over a silk tunic and tailored pants.

The male from the previous night stared back at Y/n, a sadistic glint in his eyes.

"Think I lost my way." He called.

Y/n narrowed her eyes. There was no way he didn’t follow her.

"What do you want?" Y/n questioned, getting her feet under herself, trying her best to not have her back facing him.

A corner of his mouth lifted. "Nothing, really." At her skeptical expression, he chuckled. "Did you have a good night of sleep last night?"

Y/n narrowed her eyes. "Is that all you came here for?"

He took a step forward, grass bending under his boots. Y/n took a step back instinctively, a lump rising in her throat. Muscles rolled and moved to try and accommodate it, but swallowing did not help as he continued to come closer.

"No. That is not all." Y/n glanced behind her, realising she stood at the very edge of the bank. One step was all it would take for her to tumble back into the water, and she’d rather be yelled at than drown in front of him.

"I wanted to make it up to you."

Y/n blinked. "I… what?"

He smirked, barely inches between them when he next spoke. "Did you not hear me the first time?"

Blood rushed to Y/n’s face. Now that he was so close, she could make out the shadow of a beard on his face, like he hadn’t shaved in days.

"I don’t understand how you are going to get me back my sleep."

His head tilted to the side, animal like. "How old are you, little fawn?"

Her chin lifted, refusing to budge under the intense gaze of the predator. "Twenty three."

The corner of his lips lifted higher, and for a moment, Y/n could not help but stare.

Eyes flitted away after a moment, realising she had been staring. "Twenty three? You’re basically a child."

Muscles rolled in her neck, then she met his eyes. "And?"

He shook his head, leaning back. "Let me make it up to you, beautiful. Meet me at the town square at sunset."

She blinked. "Why would I do that?"

He smirked. Shrugged, his jacket moving with the movement of his wide shoulders.

Then he turned, and stalked away, leaving her gaping at his back.

What just happened?

She did not have the answer to that question, but she did know she was not going.

Quickly, she composed her thoughts and set to filling up her bucket again, already dreading the scolding she would receive from her father because she took too much time to return home.

"Was he at least rich?"

Y/n froze, her fingers curling tighter into the sponge she had been rubbing against the pot. "What?"

"The male who wasted your time this morning. Was he one of the elites?"

Cold eyes turned to look at the weathered butcher, his eyes fixed on the meat he continued to whack with his knife. But Y/n knew his attention was fixed solely on Y/n and her answer.

Blowing a collected breath out of her nose, Y/n turned back to the pot she’d been scrubbing. "Maybe. How would I know?"

He scoffed. "Don’t play coy with me, girl. Do you want to keep all his riches for yourself?"

Eyes wide, she turned back to stare at him. "What do you mean by that?"

"You cannot expect me to believe your lies. A male just approached you out of nowhere, talked a little, then walked away, with no ulterior motives in mind?" Y/n simply stared at his back, and he finally dropped his knife, meeting his daughters eyes. "He obviously wanted to do something with you. He either wants to marry you, or he wants to use you for one night. Surely you can’t be that naive?"

Huffing, Y/n placed the pot back in the sink, throwing the sponge next to it and washed off her hands, trying to calm down her rising temper as she watched the soap suds vanish slowly.

"I’ll be outside."

"Go wherever you want, girl, as long as I get my share of money!"

Her eyes closed, a frustrated sigh puffing out from between her lips. Deciding that she needed more than the fresh air outside her walk, she began walking towards the town square mindlessly.

Not realising that it was almost sunset.

The square was busy, filled with males returning home from work and people who just wanted to have an early start to their nightly activities. The area was so crowded that Y/n debated turning around, but the thought vanished when she remembered why she was here in the first place.

To get away from her father. Maybe sit with some older ladies and have a chat.

"Going somewhere?"

Y/n glanced over her shoulder.

The male from the river side.

Her eyes widened, realising what time it was. He simply smirked and stalked forward, the crowd automatically parting for him. He didn’t even seem to realise that there were people around him.

"You look surprised." He mused.

Her eyes narrowed. "Maybe because I am?"

He chuckled. "You look like you’re in need of a distraction."

Y/n turned away. "Do I?"

He hummed. "I can provide a distraction."

She shot him an incredulous look. "No thank you."

She turned away, beginning to make her way through the crowd again. But…

Maybe it would be a good idea to indulge him. At least for some time. Maybe she could even figure out why his nonchalant attitude bothered her so much.

"You know what? Humour me…"

A smirk spread across his lips, the first genuine expression Y/n had seen on him. "Beron."

Her brows furrowed. She knew she had heard that name somewhere.

There could be so many more males named Beron, She tried to reason with herself.

"Hmm. Let's see what you can do, Beron."

Being a four hundred year old heir was a hard job, one Beron excelled at. His father was a fucking monster, but at least Beron could forget about the asshole when he snuck out with the bastards who kissed his ass every chance they got. Beron knew that they did not really care for him. No, they just wanted a shiny title once Beron became high lord.

Beron never really considered himself a nice male. He knew he was going to turn out just like his father, and if he was being honest, he was fine with that fact. He had no interest in becoming a better person.

But then Y/n pushed her way into his life. Or maybe he simply dragged her in. All that mattered was her, and nothing more.

She was a shiny gem.

Beron was a dragon.

And he wanted her in his collection, no matter what it took. Beron would gladly take all the torture his father made him go through if it meant at the end of the day he would get to see her. Maybe fuck her. But she made him come alive. And for the first time in all his four hundred years of existence, Beron wondered.

Wondered what a family with her would look like. Maybe he would become a better man.

But if there was one thing Beron wasn’t, it was delusional. He knew it was all wishful thinking. She was a nobody, a poor butcher’s daughter from the lower clans of autumn court. He was destined to take over ruling the whole court. They were never meant to be.

But in the cover of night, within the safety of the four walls of his room and under his blanket, Beron let his thoughts run wild, letting himself imagine a world where his father was a better man.

Of course, his hope was dwindling down day by day.

Particularly after his run in with his father that morning.

"You summoned me?" Beron muttered, his eyes lowered in deference.

The high lord hummed. "Come in." Lungs expanding, Beron made his way to stand in front of his father. "I will save us both time and get to the point."

Beron blinked.

"The peasant girl you’re fucking. I don’t want anyone finding out."

His blood chilled, eyes flying to fix on the relaxed figure of his father. "What?"

The high lord snorted. "You think I am naive? dumb? Listen closely, Beron. You are most likely going to be chosen by the magic to be the next high lord. I don’t want you marrying a good for nothing peasant. Fuck around, sure. But if I were you, I would make sure she did not fall pregnant." He finally looked at his son. "Oh and, start preparing. I have set up a marriage for you which will be beneficial for everyone."

Nothing ever surprised Y/n. And if it did, she was good at hiding it.

It was a surprise to Y/n when Beron showed up at her house every day since then, but he was one of the elite families in the autumn court. So that meant he was never denied anything in his life, so it came as no surprise when he thought he was entitled to her time.

But what did surprise Y/n when she actually wanted to spend time with him. So she just went along with his plans, often spending time together sitting at the cliff sides, watching the sunset.

He just… pulled her in. He enchanted her, and she was grateful he did. He had bewitched her, body, mind, soul. And she never wanted to go back to what she was before he came along.

She was aware that their union was improbable. Maybe impossible. But no one could fault her for being hopeful.

The crisp autumn air swirled around Y/n as she made her way to the hut outside of the town's borders, invisible to the fae passing because of the cover of trees around it. Shivers wound up her spine, leaves crunching under her boots. She pulled the scarf around her neck tighter, already anticipating wrapping herself around her lover when she got to his secret home.

He had revealed the place to her late one evening, handing her the keys to it. Later Y/n found out he had brought the place specifically so the two of them could meet in peace.

Moments passed in silence, only broken by her steps and the movement of the trees, animals and spirits around her in the forest. She hurried on, eager to tell Beron about the kitten that had started following Y/n around the previous day, only slowing down when the wooden structure came into view.

Along with it came dread.

Why, she did not know.

The surroundings were eerily quiet, like even the wind was holding its breath.

Confusion dug its claws in, along with doubt and fear. Was Beron home?

The door creaked open, and she tiptoed inside, a resounding click echoing behind her. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness inside, she stopped breathing.

What happened here?

The whole interior of the house looked like a storm had been inside. Shards of glass, cutlery, plants, wood pieces littered the ground, a dark stain covering a small area on the opposite wall. Hell, even the dining table was upended.

Her heart slowed, then resumed its hard pace. "Beron?" The sound of the name was shrill, panic evident as she discarded the basket in her hand next to the door, running deeper. "Beron? Are you home?"

Crash.

And then silence.

The door to the bedroom was cracked open, and the closer Y/n got, she could hear heavy breathing from the other side of the wood. Steps slowed, air rushing in despite the barrier in her throat as she peeked inside.

The first thing she noticed was the blood.

A lot of blood.

Dripping from his fist as he stood there, staring at the shattered glass at his feet.

"B- Beron?"

Wild, primal eyes met hers, mad intent in them. Fear started to seep into her blood the longer she stared back at him. And if she hadn’t been watching him so intently, she would have missed his whispered words.

"I’m getting married."

Ice. So cold, so numbing, took over any other emotion in her body, overriding her senses.

"Oh," deep breath, "well. Congratulations then."

And with that, Y/n turned away, ignoring his incredulous laugh echoing through the hollow walls that surrounded her.

"Go on, run away! Everyone does."

His words followed Y/n all the way to her home, haunted her all night. That laugh, the crack in his voice, the emotions that ran rampant in his eyes. All of it kept her up. Pained her, dug its claws into her heart and ripped her apart from the inside.

It felt like someone had cut open her body and lit a fire to her organs.

And she deserved it.

She hurt all night long, the tears running down the sides of her face and back into her hair burned too, like acid. But growing up in the lower parts, she was used to ignoring all pains. That's what people did when there were things to be done.

Ignore the pains during the day, cry about it at night. But keep it all inside, don’t let anyone find out.

So when the sun’s rays broke in through her windows, she made herself get up. Got changed. Stared at herself in the mirror until she was sure there were no cracks.

And then she went about her day, ignoring the shards of her broken heart that poked at her flesh.

Just like she had ignored the shiny, golden string that tied her to Beron.

The females had been whispering. Everyone around Y/n seemed to know what was going on. She could not be quite sure what they were talking about, but from an overheard conversation between two housewives at the town square, Y/n drew the conclusion that the high lord had passed.

And the heir was going to take over soon. He was also getting married in a few hours in the sacred temple in the middle of the town, and anyone was free to come see and give their blessings. As Y/n had expected, her father jumped at the opportunity to even be breathing the same air as the elites.

Y/n knew he also wanted to go and see if he could find a male willing to pay in exchange for Y/n’s hand.

"Y/n! We will miss the wedding! Can you be any slower?"

Deep breaths. She reminded herself as she fixed her skirts, eyes fixed on the mirror. When she deemed herself fit to be presented, she turned.

Her father looked livid as he stood outside the house, and Y/n knew a tantrum was on its way. But to Y/n’s surprise, he turned and walked away, leaving her to run after him to catch up.

The air was unusually humid the closer they got to the clearing in the forest where every high lord had held important events.

It seemed like everyone had come to see the new high lord get married. Every few moments, an elbow would hit Y/n in the back, in her ribs. Anywhere, really.

It was by the time that she was sure that her skin was going to bruise that the high lord came into view.

And Y/n’s lungs turned into rock, refusing to expand to let air in.

Amber eyes surveyed the crowd, landing on hers with unnatural precision.

Eyes prickling, Y/n watched him glance at his bride, who nodded along to the priestess, before returning to her.

A silent, long moment passed. And then his eyes widened, shining with so much emotion. She had never seen him this bothered.

And finally, the empty, cold void that had been on the other side of the golden string that had laid dormant in her chest filled, light and fire filling her chest.

But Y/n turned her head away.

She was not someone he should have even talked to in the first place. She was far beneath his level. He would not forfeit his throne for her. And she could not forfeit the simplicity of her life for him.

They were simply not meant to be.

And the light that had just reached her slowly diminished, the life going eerily quiet. She knew she hurt him, but she could do nothing to fix him, even as her chest started filling with numbness, anger and resentment pouring in from the other side.

With one last glance, Y/n sprinted away, back to the little hut she shared with her father.

She would never be able to forget that look on his face. The hrd angels that seemed accentuated by the weeks worth of stubble on his jaw, the fury that seemed to age him another century.

But they were never meant to be.

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