#that were not allowed to own land and in some places were only allowed to qork with money | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

muchosbesitos · 5 months

Text

woven in cartier

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem reader

contents: one bed (i love that trope sry not sry), miguel teaches reader spanish 🥸, fingering (yes again), nipple play, and oral (f receiving)

author’s note: sugar daddy miguel just has a special place in my heart as a broke college student 😫

word count: 5k

million dollar man (part one)

Miguel had gotten the flights for Cabo late since he figured you two could just start sightseeing in the morning. Despite the fact that you assured him arriving an hour beforehand was good enough to get the whole check-in process done, he still insisted on arriving three hours early to the airport. You held back from teasing him when he complained about the two hours that the two of you had to wait for loading, though you couldn't help the self-satisfied smile that came across your face. "Ay okay, I get it. I'll shorten the time to an hour and a half next time," he told you, poking your cheek after noticing your expression.

"Do you mind putting my suitcase up there?" You asked him, taking advantage of how easy it would be for him to just extend his hands and reach the overhead bin. "Yeah, just go ahead and take a seat," he responded, taking your carry-on and setting it up there with his own. You buckled yourself in the seat, the amount of space in the first class area allowing for you to recline back as much as you wanted.

You would've never been able to picture a couple months ago that the first time you'd be flying would be in first class, or that you'd even be going out to a vacation at all. You couldn't help but think back on all the worry you'd had when you first joined the website, the thought almost amusing now that you're here with Miguel.

"Hey, you okay?" Miguel's voice seemed like the calm in the storm, his voice serving as something that grounded you. "It's just my first time flying, I'll get over it," you assured him, your leg bouncing up and down at the anticipation of when it would take off. miguel reached over, his hand clasping over yours as his thumb ran small circles over your fingers.

"You'll be fine, don't worry. I've got you, mi cielo. Let me know if you need to pop your ears or anything, I got some gum back at the gift shop," he whispered, his voice just soothing enough to calm you down. You nodded, taking a couple of deep breaths as the plane started to move down the runaway.

You tapped on his shoulder after a couple minutes of being up in the air, asking him for the piece of gum now. He took the pack out of his pocket, handing it over to you. You grabbed one of the pieces, unraveling the gum out from the plastic packaging and stuck it in your mouth in hopes that it would ease with the change in altitude.

You handed the pack of gum back to him, his attention on you just to make sure that the sensation wasn't too bad. After a couple minutes of chewing, the pressure in your ears began to build up before eventually releasing in a 'pop.' You were able to relax with much more ease, your head resting against Miguel's until you eventually fell asleep.

"Hey, wake up. You slept for most of the ride," you heard in the distance, your eyes opening up to see that the plane was slowly beginning its descent into the airport. "Thanks for letting me sleep on your shoulder, I hope it wasn't too uncomfortable for you," you told him, rubbing your eyes as you tried to get rid of the tired feeling coursing throughout your body.

"You don't need to thank me, I'd give you everything that your little heart desired and more if you asked," he told you, unbuckling his seatbelt once the light above the two of you turned on. "The time's 11:39 PM and we just landed in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. Please stay seated until the plane has come to an immediate stop," you heard above you, the pilot's voice coming through the small speaker.

"Swear I told them to give us two beds," Miguel spoke up after coming inside the hotel room to only notice one king sized bed in the middle of the bed. The two of you had touched on some lines of intimacy, but it'd never went as far to where the two of you shared a bed together. "I don't mind if you don't mind. Plus I'm guessing that all the rooms are full," you assured him, placing your suitcase in the corner of the room.

"You sure? I don't wanna push you into anything you're not ready for," he told you, setting his suitcase down next to yours. "I don't mind like I said, plus you'll be like my own body heater," you teased, taking your pajamas out of your suitcase and heading into the bathroom to change.

Despite the fact that he'd fingered you inside of a dressing room and almost made you cum, changing in front of him and sharing a bed almost seemed like something too intimate for the situation the two of you were in. But, you couldn't imagine yourself wanting to do these things with anyone else after experiencing what Miguel is like.

You came back to see that Miguel had changed into a pair of grey sweats, his upper body completely exposed to your ogling eyes. You saw a pendant hanging around his neck, a image of the little girl you'd seen around his house inside. His upper body was hairy in a way that didn't make him seem unkempt, but rather made him even more attractive if that was even possible.

You laid down next to him, the feeling of the sheets underneath you cooling down the warmth that lit up inside you just by being in such close contact with Miguel. "You don't have to sleep by the edge, ven pa' acá," he spoke gently, his arms inviting you to sleep closer to him when you turned to face him. (come over here) You scooted over next to him, his hands wrapping closely around you as he kissed your forehead.

"You sure this is okay? I can sleep on that sofa if you want me to," he murmured, his eyes meeting yours as he waited for your response. Your eyes drifted over to the sofa on the corner of the room, the size of it looking like it would barely fit you comfortably. "You'd probably fall and break your hip, old man. I like having you next to me anyways," you told him, your head nestled against his chest.

"Buenos dias. We're going out to a dolphin boat ride later just so you know," Miguel greeted you as you opened your eyes, the smell of pancakes overtaking your nostrils. You sat up on the bed, noticing that Miguel had brought you breakfast and set it down on the nightstand next to you. A combination of eggs and pancakes along with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. You figured you might as well indulge in it while it was still warm before getting in the shower to get ready.

"Thanks," you spoke up, letting out a yawn before getting up from the bed. You sat down on the sofa with your plate of food, savoring the taste of the pancakes with every bite that you took. You'd never get accustomed to the feeling of living luxuriously, no matter if it was something as minuscule as just eating pancakes. Miguel laid down on the bed and scrolled through the tv, wearing a white t-shirt along with the grey sweats from last night. You weren't sure of why, but just the thought that he woke up and immediately got dressed just to get you breakfast caused butterflies to take flight in your stomach.

You heard the bathroom door close behind you but you didn't think too much about it, Miguel's hands finding your waist once you finished getting undressed. "Do you mind if I join you in the shower? It'll be less of a water waste, y'know," he asked you, his hands forming small circles on your waist.

You were already pretty certain you did want him in there, but the way that his touch electrified your skin with every caress turned that into a definite yes. "I mean since you're offering to save the planet, what kind of monster would I be if I said no," you told him with a teasing tone in your voice, opening the curtain to get in. He followed suit behind you, letting out a small chuckle at your words.

"Look at us being quite the environmentalists," he retorted, the cool water hitting both of you when you turned on the faucet. The water pressure was much more different than what you were used to, even that was much better than the shitty shower head you had back at your place. You were surprised to find the soap that you used, turning around to look at Miguel with a raised brow.

"No era nada, I was just in the store and I was aware of the trip. Thought you might've liked to have your soap than the standard bar of soap," he brushed it off, dismissing it as if it weren't a big deal. (it wasn't anything) But for someone who hadn't had that kind of effort out into them, it was a gesture that you appreciated.

"Would spend every last penny in my bank account if it meant i got to see you like this everyday," he mumbled against your neck, his hands coming up to your breasts. You moved your head back to give him more access to your neck, his lips eager to take every inch that you were giving him.

His thumbs pinched your nipples as his lips hovered above your neck, his lips closing around your pulse point as he kissed it. You could feel yourself forming into putty just by the motion of his hands, the way that he was touching you was too enticing to not give in. His mouth moved down to your breasts, engulfing your left one as his hand played with your right one.

His movements were in sync, his tongue rolling around your nipple around the same time that his thumb and pointer pinched around the other one. Your hands went down to his wet hair, the strands at the ends taking their natural wavy form. Your fingers dug into his scalp, but he didn't seem to mind the sting given the moan he released around your nipple.

He pressed a kiss to your breast before exchanging places with his hand, his tongue swirling around your right areola with the same eagerness that he'd shown for the other one. "Don't stop, please," you whined, the pleasure that he was providing your nipples going down to your cunt.

"Get against the wall for me, mamita," he told you, pulling away from your breast with a 'pop.' You did as told, his hands spreading your ass apart once he'd kneeled down. His tongue lapped up the slick that was leaking out of you from the attention he'd given to your nipples, running a stripe up from your hole to your clit. His tongue plunged inside of your vagina, eagerly lapping at the slick dripping down out of you.

His tongue came up to your clit, swirling around the nub before his mouth connected to it. He started to suck on your clit, his tongue occasionally moving around it while his finger went into you. Your slick coated his finger every time he pushed it in and out of you, the angle that he was curling it allowing stimulation to your g-spot.

"Oh fuck," you muttered underneath your breath, your body pressed up against the cold tiles while he kneeled behind you. His tongue felt like the most delicious form of torture, each swipe getting you closer and closer to cloud nine. The feeling of the cold water hitting your body as well as the warmth you felt igniting inside of you as he buried his head into your pussy was enough to make you delirious. You felt yourself getting closer and closer to that orgasm, your hips pushing back against miguel's face to meet his movements. "Miguel, you told me to alert you thirty minutes before the boat ride," you heard Lyla, Miguel's phone assistant chime in.

The moment was ruined the second that Lyla spoke up, Miguel's head removing itself from your cunt as he stood up. "Alright, thank you," he spoke loudly enough for the assistant to recognize, the alarm that he'd set up turning off. "Now I'm starting to feel like you're doing all this on purpose," you grumbled, getting off from the wall as you reluctantly reached for the bottle of body wash. "Maybe I am. It's so fun seeing you get all annoyed when your orgasm gets ripped away," he responded, his eyes crinkling in amusement at the glare you gave him. He lathered some soap onto your back, his large hands rubbing it in effectively.

You got dressed in a rush as the alarm on his phone kept beeping, alerting that the two of you would be dangerously close to missing the ride. You grabbed the Chanel bag that he'd bought beforehand, following Miguel out of the hotel. You could've sworn the ghost of a smile creeped up on his face when he saw you with the purse, the color coordinated with the outfit you'd chosen for today. The two of you managed to arrive at the dock before the boat had a chance to take off, the tour guide giving you both a dirty look as they let you guys in.

The boat took off shortly after the two of you sat down, the tour guide speaking through the megaphone about what you assumed were some of the landmarks in the area. After seeing your puzzled expression, Miguel took it upon himself to be your translator of sorts.

"He's just saying that they offer swimming with dolphins after the tour if you're interested in that," Miguel finished up, the boat slowing down as some dolphins came out into view. "Y'know, they're actually pretty cruel animals so I don't get the whole excitement," Miguel muttered in your ear, his hands wrapped around your waist as he stood behind you while you pointed the dolphins out. "You're the one who paid for this so don't blame me for getting excited."

"¿Quieren una foto juntos?" you heard from behind you, a woman looking at the two of you with a smile. (you guys want a picture?) "Si no es mucho problema," Miguel told the woman, passing her the cellphone with the camera app already set up. (if it's not too much of a problem) Miguel kneeled down a bit to be at your level, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he smiled.

As corny as it was, a dolphin managed to jump up at the same time that the woman clicked on the camera. "Muchas gracias," Miguel thanked the woman after she was done, the woman shrugging it off with a smile. "No era problema. Ustedes me hacen acordar de mi marido y yo." (it wasn't a problem. you guys remind me of my husband and me)

The rest of the boat ride was pretty peaceful, the currents proving to be pretty weak at this time of the day. You went with Miguel down to the bar when the boat turned around to head back to the dock, sitting down on the stool next to him. "Hola, ¿Qué tal? Me puede dar uno de tequila porfa," Miguel ordered, the bartender nodding and getting to work immediately. (hey, how's it going? can i get one of tequila please)

"What do you want to drink?" Miguel asked, turning to look at you as you glanced through the menu board. "I'll just get a virgin cosmo," you responded, looking up from the drink board over to him. You couldn't help but feel a bit of at a disadvantage hearing Miguel speak so fluently with the people around him while you were left to try to piece the words together.

"You mind if I ask why you chose Cabo out of all the vacation spots? Just curious why you chose this one," you inquired, taking a sip from your cocktail before shifting your attention up to him. He stayed quiet, his gaze going from you to the boat windows before he took a swig of his drink.

"I chose Cabo because it was my daughter's favorite place to come to. Before she passed away, I took her to different vacation destinations such as Greece and Italy but she took a liking to this place. Despite it being a tourist spot, I'm guessing it's because it helped her connect to her roots more," he responded after a couple seconds, his gaze coming back over to you after he was finished speaking.

"I know I haven't really spoken to you about her all that much, partly because it just hurts so much to think about her in the past tense. Like as a memory rather than a person. But you're a special part of my life now, and I thought you would've liked to know more about her," he added, his hands playing with the rim of his glass.

You reached over, holding his hands in between your own. "I'd like to know as much as you feel comfortable sharing. Take things at your own pace, there's no time limit for how long you grieve her," You hoped your words were reassuring enough, since you didn't have any experience when it came to dealing with loss at that level.

"I appreciate the fact that you're willing to even listen. I know that you didn't exactly agree to be hearing about this kind of trauma when you signed up for that website," he seemed almost guilty in the way that he spoke, like he regretted sharing the burden with you.

"It may not be what I signed up for, but it doesn't mean that I see you any differently. If anything, I just see you as more resilient. Please don't ever hesitate in talking to me about what you're feeling," you assured him, bringing his hand up to your mouth and pressing a kiss. He seemed to appreciate the gesture, giving you one of his rare smiles before going back to drinking his tequila.

The two of you went back out to the boat deck as the trip was coming to an end, enjoying the feeling of the light breeze against your skin. His hand was resting on your thigh throughout the duration, his touch only adding to the feeling of relaxation that you felt.

The boat stopped by the dock, Miguel allowing for the rest of the guests to get out before he helped you up. He held your hand and guided you back to the hotel, his pace matching yours so as to not rush you. "You wanna out to the hotel jacuzzi? You were really excited to put on that new bathing suit you bought," he asked you, referring to the new Louis Vuitton one you'd bought a couple months back.

"Yeah, we can do that. I might need you to help me pick one out since I bought a new one from Victoria Secret the last time we went," you responded, following him inside the elevator once it opened. "Surprised you managed to get any shopping done during that last trip," he mumbled underneath his breath, pressing the button for the fourth floor.

You felt a bit flustered as he brought that back up, since the two of you just kept brushing over the sexual tension like it wasn't anything too serious. "Surprised you came up with that lie so fast," you tried to tease him back, but your words didn't have the same effect that his did. He let out a small laugh, following you out of the elevator as the two of you headed to them room.

You placed the two sets in front of him, hoping that he’d give you a concrete answer to settle your dilemma. "Well, I think they'd both look good on you," he offered his bit of advice though it wasn't helpful to you while you were struggling. "That doesn't make the decision any easier. just help me pick one out," you practically whined, his expression remaining the same as he leaned against the headboard.

"Think I'll have to see you try them on just to make a good decision," he suggested, the smirk on his face doing nothing to hide the eagerness he felt towards that idea. You picked up the Louis one, changing in the bathroom before coming out to show him. You even went as far as doing a little twirl, receiving a whistle as a form of approval.

After doing the same with the Victoria Secret one, he seemed to be thinking about the decision harder than the last time you'd asked. "Go with the first one, you should save the one you're wearing right now for the beach tomorrow," he finally spoke, seeming to come to the conclusion that you'd made originally. You took off the set you were wearing now and changed into the Louis Vuitton one, coming back to see him changed into a pair of black swim trunks. He grabbed a towel and some flip flops for the both of you, locking the door once the two of you were outside.

You sat in between his legs, the warm jets hitting your skin to ease some of the tension that'd built up during your exams week. You leaned back against him, closing your eyes as you allowed yourself to just bask in his company for the time being. His hand gently traced circles on your thigh, your legs opening to give him as much access as he needed.

"So needy for me, muñequita. I left you all high and dry in the shower earlier hm?" His voice dropped an octave as he whispered into your ear, his hand coming to your inner thigh. You could only nod as his hand pushed the material of your bikini to the side, your cunt exposed for him.

You muffled a moan when Miguel turned one of the jets on, the water pressure hitting your clit at the angle that you were sitting at. "Answer me or I won't touch you, chula. Are you that needy just to have my fingers inside you?" He asked, his fingers just barely hovering above your vagina.

"Yes! Please, I've been thinking it about it since the shower. Could barely focus on those damn dolphins!" You exclaimed, eliciting a chuckle from him in response. He inserted one of his fingers into you, the water pressure proving itself to be a bit difficult. He quickly adjusted to that, establishing a good rhythm as he pushed his finger in and out of you.

His hand pulled away from your cunt abruptly as the door to the jacuzzi room opened up, a couple around your age appearing. They seemed to have a disappointed look on their face upon seeing you and Miguel, like they were planning on doing the same thing you'd done with him prior. "Think we ruined their plans," Miguel murmured in your ear when they walked away, thinking the same thing you had.

"Serves them for ruining our plans," you responded, feeling his erection hit your back the more you leaned into him. Despite the fact that he had a very evident hard on at this point, he did nothing to act upon it. The two of you decided to head back into the hotel room after the water had cooled down, your frustration evident when you stepped into the shower to freshen up.

"Hey, would you mind teaching me Spanish?" You asked him after the two of you finished showering, mostly doing nothing except relaxing in bed. "Any specific reason why you want to learn?" He inquired, looking over at you expectantly. "It's just, I feel like if im here in Mexico, I should at least do the minimum and learn a bit of Spanish instead of expecting everyone to be accommodating," you explained, his expression softening up a bit as he sat next to you.

"Alright, we're gonna go over some basic phrases just so you can get around. Now, I do have to say that it does change from region to region. Like while something means kid in one area, it can mean a completely different thing in another one," he let you know before he started with the mini lesson.

"Okay, so when you're speaking to someone with authority or someone older than you, you want to use 'usted.' But if you're talking to someone casually, like you're doing to me, then you can use 'tú.' It's more about respect than anything else," he started off, waiting for you to finish typing it out in your notes app before he started to speak once more. He went on to talk about how mostly everything was gendered in the language, with a few exceptions. Truth be told, he was proving to be more patient at this tutoring thing than you would've imagined.

"'¿Donde esta el baño?' is how you ask where the bathroom is, 'damas' or 'mujeres' indicates that it's for women," he added, gesturing for you to repeat what he was telling you. You couldn't help but notice the difference between the two of you as you spoke, the accent making all the difference. despite the fact, Miguel still looked proud of you for making the effort. "I know rolling the r's can be kind of difficult but it does kinda change what the topic you're talking about. Like with perra, you have to roll them otherwise it just sounds like you're asking for a fruit," he continued on, your notes app quickly filling up with the notes he was giving you.

"You're doing better than most tourists, don't worry. At least you're taking the initiative in trying to learn," he assured you, rubbing small circles on your back as you laid on your stomach. "You sure?" You were unsure of how well you were doing, since no matter how hard you'd tried in the past hour, you couldn't get the words to sound the same way that he made them sound. Though you knew that he had more experience with the language growing up, a part of you also felt a bit defeated from not being able to master the simple sentences that he'd given you earlier.

"You're not gonna learn it today, it's gonna take time. I'm willing to keep teaching you if that's something you want," he offered, like he wasn't already buried under enough responsibilities as it was at work. "I'll always make time for you, cielito lindo. Tu me importas mas que esos viejos arrugados del trabajo," he told you after you expressed your concern with how busy he was. (you matter more to me than those wrinkly old men from work) The two of you stayed quiet for a couple minutes, his hand gently running circles on your back. "Do you mind standing up for me? I have somewhat of a surprise for you," his request came out of the blue, but you obliged and got up from the bed.

"Stay still and close your eyes for me, muñeca," he told you, your eyes shutting once he was finished speaking. You were relying on your hearing to discern what he was doing, listening to the way that the bed creaked as he got up and the sound of the drawers opening.

You felt his body warmth behind you before he even touched you, your body being able to discern him in any environment you were in. "Alright, don't flinch. Got a snake in my hands," he muttered, his words eliciting a feeling of fear inside of you. You felt a cold metal against your chest, a small shiver running down your spine at the contact. "Alright, you can open your eyes now," he told you, stepping back to gauge for your reaction.

You were half-expecting him to be serious about the snake but when you looked down, you saw a gold necklace on you, his name adorning your neck. "I got the idea after seeing you with the nail. I wanted to get it in mexico since I wasn't too sure about the gold quality back in the states. I hope it's not too much," he told you, your hand coming up to touch the necklace like you wanted to make sure that it was real.

You turned around and faced him, a smile on your face as you hugged him. He still wasn't too good at receiving these sudden embraces, but he was getting better at being able to reciprocate them. His arms came down to your waist, holding you close to his body for a couple seconds. “I love it, thank you."

The words that you wanted to tell him were that you were starting to fall in love with him, but you decided to restrain yourself from admitting it. Swallowing them down felt like swallowing a bunch of dirt, the admission almost threatening to burst out of you with every day that passed by. You knew that you liked to spend time with him, but you never imagined that it would escalate to love.

The last thing that you needed to hear was that every gesture that he'd done was solely out of providing with his responsibility as a sugar daddy, that he only saw this as what it originally was. A transaction. How funny that you'd thought you'd be the one taking advantage of their feelings, without the consideration that you might be the one to catch feelings too.

You knew that Miguel had a tendency to destruct relationships whenever he felt like he was getting too close to a person, that he had enough on his shoulders without having to worry about his actions might inconvenience someone else. So you decided to simply settle for just being his sugar baby, despite how much you longed for his company in even the most mundane tasks.

The truth was a hard pill to swallow, knowing that you couldn't do anything about the love that was developing towards him despite the fact that every bone in your body was telling you to fuck the consequences and just admit it. But, you preferred to be in his life repressing these feelings than running the risk of just not being in his life at all.

1K notes · View notes

ro-is-struggling · 2 months

Text

Safer In His Arms || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Requested by anon

Summary: Since you were little you always dreamed of meeting a noble and brave knight, falling in love and marrying him to rule your kingdom together until the end of your days. But as you looked around at the men that had come to the banquet to ask for your hand in marriage, it was clear that those dreams were nothing more than a fantasy. Or at least that's what you thought until fate crossed your path with Geralt of Rivia. The witcher, with his hard expression and cold stare, was the last person anyone would describe as warm or chivalrous. But not you. From the moment you met him, you saw nothing but kindness in his eyes. And when he managed to rescue you from the hands of bandits, you knew that maybe there was still some hope that your fantasy could come true —just maybe not in the way you had always imagined.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of sexual assault (nothing happens but if it’s triggering for you I wouldn’t read it), protective!geralt, SMUT MINORS DNI, virgin!reader, inexperienced!reader, loss of virginity (not accurate this is just porn!), dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, creampie, aftercare, fluff

English is not my first language

Word count: 13500 (not even sorry)

Notes: I don't know why I keep giving every princess I write a sad/tragic story, sorry about that. Also this ended up being way more smutty than I anticipated, sorry about that too (not really). It was supposed to be a fun little hurt/comfort fic about Geralt saving the reader but it developed a mind of its own and ended up being another excuse to write more smut. I tried to make the smut a bit more fluffy than normal since it's supposed to be the reader's first time, but I didn't want it to be too fluffy given that they technically barely know each other, so there's no actual love between them (if that makes sense?). So, sorry if it's a bit all over the place!

The cold breeze of the summer night hit your skin the moment you set foot outside, reminding you that you should have taken a coat. While the days tended to be hot this time of year, once the sun set over the horizon a cool breeze embraced the entire kingdom, courtesy of the ocean forces that surrounded the borders of the land. It was quite peaceful. On a quiet night you loved to sit in the courtyard listening to the waves crashing against the rocks and smelling the scent of the salty water that was carried by the winds and mingled with the sweet perfume of the garden flowers. It seemed to always bring peace to your troubled mind, and that was exactly what you needed right now.

You could still hear the noise coming from inside the castle, though it was slowly getting lost in the sound of the sea. The laughter, the chatter, the joyful music, it all faded into the background as you plopped down on one of the seats in the courtyard, allowing yourself a moment to take a deep breath and let the beauty of your kingdom impart some of the wisdom you so desperately needed. All the guests were there for you —to talk and dance with you, to make unattainable but romantic promises in exchange for your hand in marriage— and yet all you wanted to do was disappear. You were tired of the politics, the diplomacy, tired of feeling the pressure of having to decide the future of your life and your kingdom in one night. The choice of a husband was very important to your parents, to your people and it should be to you too, but all you wanted was for the day to be over.

"I'm glad to see I'm not the only one feeling overwhelmed in there." A deep voice startled you.

Looking up you were met with a tall man leaning against one of the stone pillars supporting the roof of the covered section of the courtyard. His arms were crossed over his chest, muscles showing through the fabric of his clothes. His white hair hid part of his face, though you could still make out his hard expression and defined jaw. But what caught your attention the most was not the size of his muscles or the fact that the clothes he was wearing seemed too elegant for someone like him. No, what caught your attention the most were the amber eyes that watched you, admiring you from a distance, hiding behind a few rebellious strands of hair. You had never seen such beautiful eyes before. They were piercing, and yet there was a softness in them. Like the sun on a summer afternoon, they shone with an intensity that would have blinded anyone. But you were mesmerized by them, unable to look away.

"Though I must admit I did not expect to find you here, your highness, given that you are the center of the party."

"I needed some fresh air." You managed to say, forcing yourself to look away from his eyes. "I lost count of the number of men I danced with tonight...I just needed a break."

"That bad, huh?" His lips curved upward slightly, giving his hard expression a softer look. "I suppose if any of them had made a good impression at least you would remember their name."

"It wouldn't matter anyways. My parents have a very strong opinion about the one I should choose." You let out a bitter chuckle. "This banquet is just a formality, a contingency plan.... Give everyone a false sense of hope so they won't attack us for feeling left out."

"I'm sure you still have some sort of control over the whole thing. You're the one getting married after all."

"Since when does a woman's opinion matter when there's wealth and power involved? I'm just a pawn in their political game." Your gaze dropped, focusing on the embroidered details of your dress to avoid facing the intense gaze of the man in front of you. "When I was a girl I used to dream of growing up, meeting a brave and honorable prince and falling in love with him... now I know that feelings come after marriage, if they come at all."

Geralt watched you walk arround the courtyard, your fingers tracing the petals of the flowers that decorated the place without paying much attention to your movements. You had a blank stare and a sad expression adorned your delicate face. He was not a big lover of royalty —he didn't care about politics and didn't like the arrogant tone with which most of them used to speak—, but you were different. When he looked at you he didn't see a spoiled, arrogant princess or a manipulative political figure capable of anything to get their way. He only saw a sad and disillusioned young woman, confused about her future and the responsibility that fell on her shoulders.

Geralt felt bad for you and had an inexplicable urge to hug you, though he restrained himself. He opted to move closer to you, just took a couple of steps forward and he was already able to breathe in the scent of your perfume. His nostrils were pleasantly assaulted by the sweet scent emanating from your skin and hair. It was special, a blend of jasmine, vanilla and a hint of sea water. It was like nothing he had ever smelled before and he was sure that your scent would linger in his memory for a long time.

"It is still your life." He spoke behind your back and you turned to look at him. He seemed much bigger now that he was closer to you. His figure towered over you imposingly, yet his eyes were soft. "You can always take back your control over it." Your lips curved upward slightly and Geralt thought the smile suited you much better than the grimace of sadness.

You appreciated his effort to improve your mood. He was a complete stranger who had no reason to listen to your complaints about a life that many considered privileged. And though his words were simple, they accomplished their purpose. You felt so helpless and trapped that you were unable to see that things didn't end there. Yes, you were forced to marry someone you did not love for the sake of your kingdom, but that was not the same as giving up your life, your control and power over it. There was still hope.

"Thank you..." you trailed off, realizing at that moment that you had opened yourself so sincerely to a man whose name you didn't even know.

But before he could introduce himself, a voice in the distance interrupted you, answering for him.

"Geralt! There you are! I have been looking everywhere for you. You are supposed to protect me, you know."

Geralt let out an irritated sigh as the man you recognized as one of the many musicians hired by your parents to play at the banquet approached you. You had to stifle a chuckle as you realized that rather than escaping the noise of the party, he had come there to get a break from his friend's vibrant and cheerful personality. They were an odd pair, but you had no doubt that there had to be trust between them from the way the bard addresses him.

“I’ve been doing the impossible to hide from Lord Kaius for ages! What the hell were you doing out her–” The artist's complaints were cut short when his eyes finally rested on your figure. "Your highness." He gave a subtle bow, the tone of his voice changing to a lower, more subtle one from one second to the next.

"I'm afraid it's my fault. I was preoccupying your friend with the problems that afflict my mind on this fine evening and he was too kind to interrupt me. He was a great help, but you can take him back now. You clearly need him more than I do."

"Won't you come inside, your highness? You wouldn't want to miss your own party." The bard asked and you smiled at him.

"In a moment. I'd like to enjoy the peace and fresh air for a while longer."

Geralt didn't know why, but his eyes kept searching for you in the crowd of people dancing and eating like there was no tomorrow. After Jaskier dragged him back to the banquet hall —and after saving him from the fury of the man whose daughter had lost her innocence in the hands of the bard—, he kept his eyes on the big dark wooden doors, waiting to see you enter. But the minutes passed and there was no sign of you anywhere. He hadn't seen you come through the door and he couldn't find you in the crowd of people or see you at the royal table sitting next to your parents. You had disappeared and some people were beginning to notice.

For a moment, Geralt wondered if perhaps his words had encouraged certain behaviors in you. Maybe your way of taking control of your life was to run away from there, leaving your parents, your suitors and your responsibilities behind and start from scratch. He was wondering if perhaps he should go out to look for you, when his thoughts were interrupted by the sudden entrance of a man running towards the king and queen waving a paper in his raised right hand.

"The princess has been kidnapped." He announced loudly, causing the entire room to fall into a deep silence.

The musicians stopped playing, the people dancing stood motionless in the middle of the room and the queen almost fainted at that very moment. There was a collective sigh and then nothing. Pure silence while the king read the note that had been left behind by the bandits, establishing a payment for the recovery of the princess.

However, the silence did not last long. It was a room full of princes, knights and lords who were there to win the heart of the princess —or at least, the political interest of her parents— so chaos was bound to break out at a time like that. Lord Einar, the one who had found the note in the courtyard, was the first to offer his services to save the princess. His bravery set off a chain reaction of man after man appearing before the king to justify why they were the best suited for the task and not their competitors. And as they fought among themselves, Geralt decided to take matters into his own hands.

He finally felt comfortable as he inspected the courtyard and its surroundings for some sort of clue as to your whereabouts. For the first time since he had arrived at the castle he felt as if he actually had something to do there. Banquets and politics weren't his thing, but tracking down and hunting evil was. And while his area of expertise was monsters, he was willing to make an exception —anything to find an excuse to get him out of the political mess unfolding in the banquet hall.

His senses enhanced by the mutation allowed Geralt to follow the path that your scent had left in the air. He only had to take a couple of deep breaths and he immediately caught the fragrance of jasmine and vanilla that he had smelled on your skin. It stood out above any other scent near him, almost as if he had you in front of him once again. All he had to do was follow it to the outskirts of the castle, where his tracking skills allowed him to form a clearer picture of the situation.

They were heading north, away from the ocean and into the forest. The four pairs of footprints in the dirt indicated the presence of three heavy men who were accompanied by a fourth subject that was not so pleased to be there. The footprints were more shallow and imperfect. They belonged to a person of smaller build who was being dragged by those men. Geralt found no blood on the path, so he felt optimistic. You were conscious and had no serious wounds that would leave traces of your blood on the road, so there was a high chance that he would arrive in time to save you.

Following the path became a little more complicated the deeper he went into the woods, but fortunately for him the vegetation was not so lush and the bandits had not hidden very far away. Soon he was able to hear their angry mutterings in the distance. The night wind carried your sobs with it and Geralt followed them as if it were a map straight to your whereabouts.

You were being held captive in what appeared to be abandoned land. There was a dirty old shack and behind it, in the distance, Geralt could make out a barn that he had no doubt was in the same condition. A dim light was escaping through the half-open wooden door, so he knew that was where he had to go.

Two of the bandits scattered around the property to control the perimeter while one remained inside with you. Geralt was able to slip past them unseen with ease. Clearly, they were not men of great intellect and wisdom. Only a fool would kidnap a princess on the one night she was surrounded by strong and capable noble knights looking to prove themselves to her. Although glancing around, he was the only one there, so perhaps the bandits had a point.

Geralt was very careful with his movements, seeking to stay in the shadows as long as possible to assess the situation. He knew he could take out those men without breaking a sweat, even if they attacked him all three at once. But he had to consider that you were in the middle and any mistake he made could end badly for you. So he took his time, stealing a glimpse of the barn through the cracked door. His vision was limited by the odd angle from which he was forced to observe the scene, as well as the dim light that illuminated the room. Geralt was considering going in with his sword held high and end it all, when a sudden movement forced him to retreat so as not to be found.

Still, he got to see the way the man was mistreating you, pushing you violently against a pile of hay while you cried and begged for your life. And he got to hear the string of degenerate words he spat at you, enjoying the fear in your voice as you struggled to keep your distance from him. It made Geralt angry. Very angry.

The next sequence of actions happened so quickly that it was hard for you to process it. Although, to be honest, your mind wasn't quite there either. A part of you was completely missing, preparing to face the worst. When your captor lunged at you, effectively imprisoning you against the hay and almost completely restricting your movements, your mind transported you to another place. You could still hear his voice in the distance, smell his unpleasant odor and feel his weight on your body, but it all felt distant, muffled by the sounds of the ocean waves crashing against the rocks and the smell of salt water. Your body was still struggling to break free and tears were still streaming down your cheeks, but your mind was preparing to face the horror you knew was coming.

"You can cry all you want, no one is coming to save you." The man clicked his tongue, an evil smile forming on his lips. "A castle full of people and not a single man in sight, what a shame! But don't worry, princess, the time has come for you to know what a real man is." He moved his hands to the buttons of his pants, his leering gaze roaming over your body. You felt like screaming, crying and vomiting all at the same time, but you remained immobile, not knowing how to react. You simply closed your eyes, concentrating on the images of the sea you loved so much, waiting for the moment to pass.

But instead of feeling the weight of your captor's body on you again, you felt the splatter of warm liquid on your skin. Droplets rolled down your cheeks, mixing with your tears, and streams fell on your clothes. When you opened your eyes you found the sharp point of a sword poking out of your captor's pierced stomach. It was his blood that drenched your body, his blood that stained your clothes. It poured down on you from the wound in his stomach and from the cut in his throat that prevented him from producing more than broken cries as he drowned in his own blood.

It took you a few seconds to understand what was happening. Your confused mind, on high alert for new dangers, was not able to comprehend that the death of your captor was something positive for you. You only saw blood in quantities you had never seen before and could not help but scream as you watched in horror as the sword disappeared inside the bandit's body —splashing a few more drops of blood on its way out.

In the blink of an eye, the dying body of your captor was removed from above you and was replaced by a hand that pressed over your mouth to silence you. You struggled against it, your own hands snapping out of their state of shock to clutch at the arm of the new danger in an attempt to separate it from you. But then your eyes focused on the man leaning over you, the one who had saved you and who was desperately asking you to keep quiet.

A surge of calm ran through your body as you made contact with those golden eyes that intrigued you so much. You knew then that you were no longer in danger for Geralt had come to your rescue. Your heart was still beating almost inhumanly fast, pumping adrenaline throughout your body, and your breathing was still rapid, but you were able to calm your whimpers of protest under his hand. You stopped fighting him, trusting that you would be safe under his care.

"There are more-" You tried to warn him as he removed his hand from your mouth, but Geralt shushed you.

"I know, they're outside. That's why I need you to stay quiet and hide while I deal with them. Can you do that, your highness?" You nodded slowly, letting Geralt lead you to the back of the barn. He settled you behind a pile of hay that was large enough to hide your crouched figure, asking you to stay there until he came back for you, no matter what you heard outside.

"Wait! Don't leave me!" you panicked as he took a step away from you. Your hand flew to his arm, clinging to his clothes in an attempt to keep him from leaving. You knew what he had to do, but the thought of being alone again terrified you.

"Everything will be fine." Geralt tried to calm you, his voice a soft whisper. "I promise I will come back for you."

He gave you a moment before trying to leave once again, waiting for you to let go of his arm willingly rather than forcibly push you away. Geralt knew you were terrified and needed support, and he was more than willing to give it, but first he had to take care of the bandits that were still on the loose. And it would not be wise to fight them while you were present. It would only distress you further and put you in unnecessary danger. So, with a slight nod, he left you in the barn once more, disappearing into the night to finish what he had started.

You curled up in your place, listening to the distant sounds of the fight as you let another wave of tears roll down your cheeks. The smell of blood and dirt surrounded you. You were covered in it —in dirt, from being pushed back and forth around the place; in your captor's sweat, after he threw his body over yours; and in his blood, thanks to Geralt's fierce but effective attack. It made you want to vomit. The reality of the situation was starting to sink in, and your mind was slowly beginning to understand the great danger you were in and how lucky you were that Geralt showed up when he did.

“Princess?”

His voice brought you back to reality. He was kneeling beside you, looking at you with concern in those beautiful yellow eyes. The skin on his face was stained with a few drops of blood, as you imagined yours to be, but that did not lessen the softness of his expression. You threw yourself into his arms without a second thought, hiding your face in his neck as you sobbed in relief to know that the danger was over.

"It's okay, you're safe. I'm here, it's going to be okay." Geralt muttered against your hair, pulling you into his arms hoping that would be enough to help ease your nerves.

He held you against his body for as long as you needed him to, stroking your back with his hand in a slow, delicate way to inspire some sense of calm in you. He didn't move for a moment, not even when your sobs began to fade and your breathing became regular. No, Geralt waited for you to make the first move, breaking away from him when you were ready to do so.

"It's all right. You're fine. Just breathe with me. In...and out...in...and out. All right."

You let the soft but deep tone of his voice slowly wash away the paralyzing fear and nerves that plagued you. You focused on the warmth of his body and the way his arms wrapped around you, making you feel safe. You mimicked the rhythm of his breathing, letting him slowly guide you back to normal.

When you opened your eyes again the world around you was no longer spinning. Your vision was still a little blurry from the tears, but you could make out perfectly the yellow eyes, bright as the summer sun, watching you carefully.

"There you are!" Geralt gave you a small smile. "Did they hurt you?" You shook your head. Most of the blood on you at that moment wasn't yours, thankfully. Beyond a couple of bruises on your wrists from the bindings, and a split lip from a slap, you weren't injured. Your head hurt and you had twisted your ankle in an attempt to escape but it was nothing you couldn't handle.

"Who were they?" You asked in a shaky voice as you tried to stand up. You winced in pain as you put weight on your injured foot, but Geralt caught you in his arms before you lost your balance.

"Trust me, you're not going to like the answer to that."

A collective sigh was heard as you and Geralt entered the war room, where the king and queen were coordinating a rescue party with some soldiers and half of the suitors present at the banquet. It was a sigh of surprise rather than relief. It was clear that no one expected to see you there, much less with the disheveled appearance you had.

Your mother was the first to react, running up to you with tears in her eyes. Although she couldn't bring herself to hug you, the blood that stained your ball gown was still fresh, so she settled for holding your cheeks in her hands while repeating over and over again how happy she was that you were safe. Your father reacted by sending the guards to arrest Geralt as his worried mind believed that the witcher somehow had something to do with your kidnapping. You had to stand between them, taking your savior's hand in yours to make your position clear.

"What you imply is ridiculous! He saved me, father. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him." you stated firmly, keeping your head held high and holding back tears in your eyes.

"He very well could still be behind all this. He's a witcher who wasn't officially invited to the festivities and conveniently vanished in the middle of the night without a word. No one can attest to him but that bard..."

"No offense, your majesty, but I just felt as though the situation was not being treated with the necessary urgency." Geralt interjected, speaking in a calm and slightly defiant tone. "I knew for a fact that she couldn't be far away and that time was of the essence, but everyone at that feast seemed more interested in proving themselves worthy of glory and respect than saving your daughter's life. I just did what had to be done."

"How dare you speak that way about these noble men, witcher! Any one of them would be more than willing to give his life for my daughter!"

"He is right, father. If you want to find a culprit, you should direct your gaze to Lord Einar."

The room fell silent as all eyes turned to him. But his gaze was focused on you, staring at you with a fury you didn't know if the others were able to detect. He took a step forward and you tightened your grip on Geralt's hand, instinctively seeking his support. He stuck to your side, silently letting you know that he was ready to come between him and you if necessary —though he seriously doubted that Einar would be stupid enough to try to hurt you in front of the king.

"This is absurd!" Lord Einar complained with exaggerated outrage. "I will not allow myself to be disrespected in this way! I was invited to this feast to formalize my interest in the princess, which is greater than that of anyone in this room, if I may add. Have you forgotten that it was I who noticed the princess's strange disappearance? If I had not gone out to look for her, perhaps the news of her disappearance would have come too late. And may I remind you, your majesty, that it was I who first offered my services to bring her back safe and sound."

"That was the plan, wasn't it?" Geralt spoke through gritted teeth. "To pay some coins to a bunch of desperate bastards to take her so that you could rescue her and thus win her and the king's heart."

"I will not allow this... thing to disrespect me like this!"

"Your scent was on their clothes. Your name was the last thing they uttered before I slit their throats. You knew you didn't stand a chance with her, so you found a way to force your name to the top of the list."

Intimidated by Geralt's cold, hard stare, Lord Einar turned to look at the king. "These are nothing more than baseless accusations made by someone who clearly wants to distract us from his own guilt and involvement." he said, keeping his head held high as he lied through his teeth. "I beg you, my king, to consider punishment for this insolent witcher."

"Is this proof enough for you?" you snapped, tossing an object on the table.

After the bandits were dead, Geralt had searched their bodies for some kind of proof that their words were true. That's how he had found a ring in the pocket of one of them that clearly didn't belong to them. It was made of a fine metal and in the center, engraved in gold, was the seal of a noble family: the Blakesley family.

The ring rolled against the dark wood, exposing Lord Einar's lies with each flick of the ring before the gaze of all present. There was nothing he could say to avoid the punishment that was coming, so when your father gave the order and the guards took him by force, he decided to take his rage out on you. His voice echoed through the corridors as he was escorted to the dungeon, shouting a string of insults at you. He questioned your honor and your ability as a ruler, claiming that he only wanted to marry you to ensure that the kingdom would not perish when your father died.

Those were nothing more than the words of an unstable man who was filled with spite, angered by your rejection. You knew it meant nothing, but you still couldn't help but feel humiliated as he shouted all those things in front of so many people. Your eyes filled with tears and you clung to Geralt almost instinctively, hiding your face in his neck so no one would see you cry. He wrapped his arms around you, ignoring the very unfriendly looks that several of the men in the room gave him.

Your mother ordered the room to be emptied, realizing that the crowd was doing nothing to help your condition. The last thing you needed at that moment was to feel watched and judged by a bunch of people, so she personally closed the doors behind the last guard to leave the room.

"You should take a long bath, my love. I'll send someone to prepare the tub and clean clothes for you. That will certainly make you feel better." Your mother spoke in a soft voice, placing a hand on your back. "And you, witcher, are more than welcome to stay tonight. I'll have a room prepared for you and bring you some clean clothes. We can talk more in the morning."

You gave your mother a smile as you wiped your tears with the back of your hand, trying to convince her that you were fine. She knew you weren't, but she also knew you well enough not to push you at that moment. So she left the room without adding anything else, leaving you alone with Geralt once again.

"Thank you... for everything." Your voice broke the silence, your eyes traveling from the door to Geralt's face. "I just realized I didn't thank you yet."

"You don't have to." He didn't need to hear it from your mouth, he could see in your eyes how grateful you were. Your expression hadn't changed much since he had found you, even though you tried hard to hide it, there were still traces of fear and distress in your eyes.

"Of course I have to! You have saved me from a terrible fate, not only at the hands of those bandits, but also at the hands of that... man." There were other words with which you would have liked to describe him, but you decided it was not appropriate for you to utter them. He didn't even deserve that from you. "I'm glad you were dragged here... I don't know what would have become of me without you tonight, Geralt."

The room fell silent as you looked into each other's eyes. You lost yourself in the amber that surrounded his pupils —which seemed to be more dilated, although it could well be an effect of the light, you thought—, trying to discover the secrets hidden in his eyes. Geralt was not easy to read, no matter how hard you tried, you had no idea of the things that could be going through his head at that moment. And yet, there was something in his eyes that calmed you. When he looked back at you, there was a softness in them that invited you to continue to admire them forever. It was a connection unlike anything you had ever felt before. It piqued your curiosity and some other things you didn't quite know how to explain.

Your hand was still intertwined with Geralt's and you weren't entirely sure for how long. Although you weren't complaining, you found the warmth of his skin against yours extremely comforting. It made you feel less alone, less vulnerable. You trusted him with your life, you knew that as long as he was around nothing bad could happen to you. And boy did you need that at that moment. You were still quite affected by everything that had happened and the idea of being alone terrified you. You needed company, but not just anyone. You needed his company.

"Would you mind escorting me to my chambers?" you broke the silence, clearing your throat to make sure your voice sounded firm. "My foot still hurts a little and I wouldn't want to fall down the stairs."

It was a foolish excuse. You knew it. Geralt knew it. The twisted foot you got while struggling with your captors was not a cause for concern. It hurt a little, yes, but you could still walk normally. All you wanted was an excuse not to be separated from Geralt and luckily for you, he played along. He allowed you to take his arm for stability and walked with you to your quarters. You appreciated his proximity, enjoying the feel of his body pressed against yours as his warmth enveloped you. But unfortunately it only seemed to aggravate his absence when he pulled away from you, willing to leave you alone so you could rest.

Your hand closed around his arm almost as an unwilling reflex. Your body craved his closeness. Your mind needed his company to be at ease. As much as you wanted to, you couldn't let Geralt leave. Not tonight at least. His eyes lingered on your hand, admiring how small it appeared when compared to his arm, before he looked up into your eyes, searching your expression for an explanation.

"Stay, please." Your voice was almost a whisper. Your eyes had trouble making eye contact with him for the first time since you had met. Geralt knew then that you were embarrassed of uttering those words. "I need you. I... I don't want to be alone tonight."

"Are you sure?" He said after a few seconds of silence, his expression firm but gentle. You nodded, looking at him with pleading eyes as you released his arm from your grip. Geralt sighed and finally crossed the threshold of the door, closing it behind him.

Geralt allowed you to guide him across the room to a door that hid a large private bathtub on the other side. It was already filled with water and salts, ready for you to use it. Everything smelled of you, of that delicious combination of jasmine and vanilla that Geralt found so special. It was intoxicating, like he was breathing in your scent straight from the source.

"Would you mind helping me with the lace?" Your voice brought him back to reality. Geralt watched as you turned around, gathering your hair over one of your shoulders to expose your back to him so he could unfasten your dress. He knew it was inappropriate and that he was probably breaking some rule —not to mention, taking advantage of the king's hospitality—, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. Not when you were offering yourself to him like that.

Geralt's hands caressed your back first, his fingers slowly tracing a path from your shoulders to where the lacing of your dress ended. You closed your eyes, holding your breath as you felt him slowly loosen your dress. You could feel his imposing figure towering over you. He was so close that you could hear his breathing and feel the heat radiating from his body. You liked the proximity, probably more than you should.

When Geralt finished his work and your dress began to slide down your shoulders, you knew you should have been embarrassed. You were used to being naked in front of servants, but they were always women you trusted, handmaidens who had taken care of you since you were little and helped you dress or bathe. You had never been so exposed in front of a man before and you should definitely feel ashamed, but you were not. You simply let the dress fall to your feet and stepped into the tub as if there was no man present.

The water was warm and the tub was deep enough to hide your modesty if you sat in the right position. The dim candlelight also helped, though ultimately you really didn't mind feeling Geralt's gaze on your body.

"Join me, please. The water's nice and there's room enough for both of us."

Your curious eyes unashamedly traced the muscles of his arms and torso as he revealed himself to you. You noticed the scars that marked his skin, some smaller and some larger, and you couldn't help but wonder what the stories behind them were. Geralt was an exceptional man, unlike anyone you had ever met in your life. He was so rigid and reserved, and yet he had shown nothing but kindness and gentleness in your presence. He was a mystery and you wanted nothing more than to discover what he hid behind those beautiful amber eyes.

Out of respect —and some embarrassment—, you looked away as his hands undid the buttons of his pants. You focused your attention on the jasmine petals floating in the water, feeling your cheeks grow warm as a small voice in your head encouraged you to look up.

Geralt settled next to you in the tub, avoiding being too close or sitting in front of you so that you wouldn't feel uncomfortable or self-conscious in his presence. However, you needed his closeness, so you shortened the distance as much as you could, pressing your arm against his. When he didn't complain, you went a step further and rested your head on his shoulder. Geralt stood still for a moment, debating once again whether his actions were appropriate, but in the end he relaxed.

He put his arm around your shoulders, effectively pulling you closer to him. A smile formed on your lips as you adjusted yourself in the new position, hiding your face in his neck. Geralt's fingers traced soft lines on the skin of your arm, a caress that both relaxed and excited you. That kind of intimacy was something new to you. Feeling his naked skin against yours, inhaling that musky scent mixed with something you couldn't describe as anything but his own essence, feeling the soft caresses of his calloused fingers, everything made you feel a certain way inside. You didn't have the exact words to describe it. It was like a flame, a warmth spreading through you that was both comforting and exciting. Ultimately, you didn't care about being able to put a name to what you felt. You just wanted to stay close to Geralt for as long as you were allowed.

Without even realizing it, your hand traveled up to his chest, your curious fingers tracing the jagged lines that marked his skin. You used the scars as a map to his body, letting them guide your path as you explored his chest with your touch. And as your fingers moved, you imagined the heroic stories behind each one, wondering what kind of monsters had inflicted them and if there were any that were human-made.

"I wonder how many princesses you've saved to end up like this." You broke the silence, your voice soft as you got lost in thought. It was mostly a joke, but there was some genuine curiosity hidden in it.

"Surprisingly, less than you're probably imagining."

You didn't quite know why, but hearing Geralt say that put a smile on your lips. It made you feel special, in a way. He hadn't been hired to save you —technically he hadn't even been invited to the party—, he had no obligation to you or your family, and yet he had risked his life to help you. There was something in you that awakened in him his noblest instincts.

"I'm sure that's what you tell everyone." You laughed, looking up at him from your position on his shoulder. You could admire his profile, his sharp jawline and the way his lips curved upward slightly as he let out a huff.

"Often delicate young women like you find my methods to be too... grotesque. They don't see me as being much different from the monsters I kill." Geralt spoke honestly, remembering the horrified expressions on the faces of the maidens he had sought to save from danger in his past, when he had little experience as a witcher. He was young and naive at the time and believed he could use his skills for more than just hunting monsters. After all, evil came in all shapes and sizes, even in humans. It didn't take him long to understand that humans didn't see a knight of noble spirit when he intervened in such situations, only a mutant designed to kill.

You noticed his thoughtful expression, his eyes looking straight ahead as if his mind was transporting him to another place. You wondered what kind of memories he might have swirling around in his head at that moment, outraged to think that someone could treat him badly after he saved their life. You admitted that he had quite an imposing figure and that his expression wasn't very friendly most of the time, but you still couldn't understand how anyone could be afraid of him. Even before he saved you —when he was just a stranger who took the time to listen to your problems— you saw nothing threatening in him. His beautiful yellow eyes inspired nothing but trust in you from the first moment you made contact with them.

“Then they were all fools." You sat up straight, one hand resting on Geralt's cheek to force him to look at you. "I don't understand how anyone could look at you and see danger in you. Even covered in blood, all I see is... safety and comfort." You gave him a small smile as your finger carefully wiped a small spot of blood from his cheek.

"Or maybe you're being naively nice."

Geralt took a cloth that rested on the edge of the tub and dipped it in the warm water. Then one of his hands cupped your chin, tilting your face slightly so he could get a better look at you in the candlelight. The flames danced in the air, creating shadows on your delicate skin. But even in the dim light he could still see the splashes of blood that stained your beautiful face. They made such a contrast that it was impossible to ignore them. The implication of such a violent act had no place on the delicate face of a princess like you. He hated to see the scratch on your lip, the dirt on your cheeks, the dried blood on your skin. You should not have been subjected to such horrors and he wanted to do everything in his power to erase the evidence from your body. So Geralt took the trouble to wipe the blood away, carefully running the wet cloth over your skin until it was all gone.

You remained silent as he worked on you, completely immobile while you watched him closely. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed, but his expression was gentle. His hands moved delicately over your skin, as if he was afraid of breaking you if he wasn't careful. You could barely feel the cloth brushing against your cheek from how slow and gentle Geralt was being. But his fingers... his fingers were another story.

They were warm against your skin, caressing every little spot the cloth passed through to soothe any possible irritation the fabric might arouse. They awakened a tingling sensation as they traveled down your face. When they reached your neck, you knew that Geralt could feel the accelerated pulsing of your heart against his fingertips. It was impossible that he couldn't when you could hear the beating in your ears yourself. His hands felt so big against your neck. If he wanted to hurt you, he could probably do it with just one hand. That should have scared you, considering he was a man you barely knew, but it didn't. You knew he wasn't going to hurt you, not when he caressed the sensitive skin of your neck and collarbones with such gentleness.

"Maybe I'm naive," you broke the silence, your voice barely more audible than a whisper. "But I honestly don't think a mutant designed to kill, as you say, would go to the trouble of caring for me the way you are doing."

Geralt's eyes looked up at you, that intriguing yellow you loved so much capturing you in a transe. They were calling you, daring you to dive into the ocean of honey and mystery that was his gaze. And you obeyed without the slightest resistance, letting your heart take the reins of your body. You leaned towards him, slowly. His hands were still on your neck, but he didn't use them to stop you. On the contrary, he leaned towards you too and when your lips finally collided, he used his grip on your jaw to deepen the kiss.

The kiss started slow, a quick brush of your lips as you finally let yourselves indulge in your deepest desires. But as you became more comfortable in each other's arms, the kiss intensified. You let Geralt guide you, knowing that he would undoubtedly have more experience than you. You surrendered to his lips and the caresses of his tongue, giving yourself to him completely as you struggled to keep up with him.

That wasn't your first kiss, however, it was the first kiss that felt like this, so... intense, passionate. You barely remembered the boy who had given you your first kiss, but you knew you would remember Geralt for the rest of your life. You didn't know how he did it, but the simple touch of his lips and the strokes of his fingers on your skin turned you to mush between his hands. You had never felt anything like it before and you didn't want to stop. But despite your protests, Geralt suddenly pulled away from you.

"What are you doing?" He didn't sound annoyed or confused, more concerned.

"I'm taking control of my life." You leaned into him once more and Geralt accepted your kiss, his desperate lips demonstrating his true intentions. He let his desires consume him for a moment before regaining control over his body and pulling away from you again.

"Are you sure?" It wasn't that he wanted to stop, but the voice of morality in the back of his mind compelled him to make sure you wanted the same. He needed to know that he wasn't taking advantage of you, that you weren't throwing yourself into his arms as a result of your vulnerable state after the attack.

"For as long as I can remember, I have always dreamed of meeting a noble prince who would protect me from danger. We would fall in love and live a long and happy life together after our marriage. Now I know that is impossible. I cannot choose who I marry. I cannot choose to marry for love. There's nothing I can do to change it, that's just the way things work." You paused, your hands reaching for Geralt's to entwine your fingers. "But I can still choose who to give myself to, body and soul, for the first time... and you're the closest thing I have to that fantasy."

There was a sadness in your eyes that made Geralt feel bad for you. He didn't know you very well, but he knew you deserved better than a future you didn't want. The inability to choose your own path in life was something that seemed to affect you greatly, and if he was able to bring you some peace he was willing to do so. But the tub full of dirty water was not the place for it, much less considering it would be your first experience of something like that.

"Speak freely." You said after a few seconds of unbearable silence. "If you don't want to be with me because you don't like me I'll understand. But please don't turn me down just because you think you're guarding my honor or something. I want this... I want you."

Those last words seemed to do the trick, because Geralt's lips joined yours once again. Only this time the kiss was different, much slower and more sensual, though just as desperate. His lips moved in time with yours, tongues intertwined in a sinful dance as Geralt allowed his hands to slowly explore your body. His fingers ignited flames on your skin in their path, pleasure and anticipation building inside you.

The water in the tub swirled violently as Geralt lifted you into his arms, moving you to sit on his lap as if you weighed nothing. You clung to his shoulders for support, feeling his fingers dig into the sensitive skin of your hips. But it didn't hurt, at least not in a bad way. It was a pleasant ache that made you feel alive. Just like his kisses, which trailed down your jaw to your neck, sucking and nibbling on the sensitive skin.

Geralt's kisses continued their way down and you couldn't help but buck your hips against his when his lips closed over your nipple. You pushed your chest into him instinctively, giving yourself to him as one of your hands got lost in his hair. Pure pleasure traveled through your veins as his tongue played with your breasts, giving attention to one before moving on to the other. He held you tightly against his body, one strong arm stretched across your back while the other wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his growing erection.

You both moaned as your cunt made contact with his cock. The sensation you felt when the tip brushed against your little bundle of nerves was unlike anything you had ever felt before. The pleasure was much more intense, much more raw. You could feel it spreading through your body and into your bones. So, naturally, you sought it again, creating a rhythm that had you panting in no time.

You were forced to stop when Geralt suddenly stood up, carrying you in his arms. Your moan of pleasure turned into a cry of surprise, the water in the tub moving violently, flooding the room as he moved towards the exit. You clung to his shoulders, afraid of falling, as you asked him what he was doing.

"We can't do it here. It has to be done properly, in a bed where you’ll be comfortable, and not in a bathtub full of filthy water."

You couldn't help but smile to yourself as you understood the meaning of his words. Once again, Geralt was looking after you, worrying about you and your well-being more than any other man in your life had ever done. He wanted to make things right, to make sure that your first sexual encounter was a positive experience. And while he wasn't exactly the man you had imagined doing it with, he was quite close to it. Every thing he said, every gesture he made to you, made you feel more confident in your decision.

Geralt carefully laid you down on the bed, making sure you were comfortable before continuing his assault on your body. He kissed you again and, as you let his tongue explore your mouth, you couldn't help but think how much bigger he felt now that he was leaning over you. He had one arm on either side of your head, holding himself up so he wouldn't crush you with his weight. One of his toned legs rested in between yours, keeping you open and exposed to him. You were essentially trapped under his body, completely at his mercy, and you liked it.

The pleasure building up inside you was starting to feel too overwhelming. As much as you enjoyed Geralt's wet kisses, you needed more. You needed relief. So you pushed your hips into him once more, seeking that intoxicating pleasure you'd felt in the bathtub. Your wet pussy slid easily up his thigh and a wave of pleasure coursed through your body.

"Fuck!" Geralt moaned as he felt your wetness trickling down his leg. You looked so sensual moving your hips against him with adoring desperation, struggling to find some relief. The little moans that fell from your lips in between ragged breaths drove him crazy, making it difficult for him to control his instincts. He had to be gentle with you, it was your first time and no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't pin you down and fuck you until your legs shook.

"Tell me, princess, have you ever touched yourself?" Geralt spoke against your skin as his lips continued their path of wet kisses down your body. "Perhaps when you were alone at night, hidden in the darkness of your chambers."

It took you a few seconds to process Geralt's words, your mind distracted with the way his kisses slowly trailed down your chest, barely pausing on your breasts before continuing to travel down. It made your body tremble with anticipation, wondering what he was up to. He was watching you from his position on your abdomen, lips barely pulling away from your skin so he could observe your face more comfortably, waiting for an answer. The color of his eyes had darkened, the yellow glowing like the flames of the candles that lit the room. There was hunger in them. Geralt was looking at you like a wolf at its prey. You couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious, managing to answer him with a simple negative shake of your head.

"So you don't know what real pleasure feels like, huh?" You weren't sure if it was a question for you, but you shook your head again anyway. You felt Geralt's lips curving into a smile against the sensitive skin of your lower belly and a shiver ran down your spine when you heard his next words. "I'm going to change that."

Despite the firmness in his voice, Geralt was slow and gentle with each movement he made next. He was careful to position himself between your legs, pushing them open and revealing your most secret part to his hungry gaze. He noticed almost immediately the way you tensed with embarrassment, feeling vulnerable, so he was quick to spread sweet kisses on your right thigh, while gently caressing the skin of your left. He could smell the scent of your arousal with every breath he took. It was intoxicating, the sweet nectar he had been waiting to taste all this time. But first he had to make sure you were comfortable. He was there to pleasure you, nothing mattered if you didn't enjoy it.

"It's okay, my sweet. You don't have to be ashamed, you're beautiful." He spoke against your skin, his voice a raspy, sensual, whisper. "I have to get you ready for my cock, all right? This will feel so good, I promise. But if it doesn't, I want you to tell me, can you do that?" You nodded, but that wasn't enough for him. "I need you to use your words."

"Yes, Geralt, I will."

"Good."

Geralt gave you a few seconds to relax before diving into your cunt, spreading wet kisses down your inner thighs as he got closer and closer to the place where you needed him most. When his tongue finally made contact with the sweet nectar trickling down your folds, he let out a sound that vibrated in his chest with force. All hint of self-control disappeared then, buried under the primal desire that the taste of your arousal awakened in him.

He ate you like a starving man, his tongue exploring your most intimate place with expert skill. Your hips jolted as his lips closed over your small bundle of nerves, your whole body convulsing as you felt pleasure like you had never felt before. It was so intense it was almost too much. It scared you in a way, as it felt like your own body didn't respond to you —like it didn't belong to you. It belonged to Geralt now, and only responded to the stimulation he gave your body. You were torn between the need to pull away from his entrancing lips —which were no doubt uttering some spell to claim ownership of your innocence— and your body's carnal desire to surrender to his clever tricks in order to continue to feel such pure pleasure.

"Does it feel good, princess?" Geralt spoke between your legs, his warm breath crashing against your pussy and sending shivers down your spine.

"Yes! So good... please don't stop." You didn't recognize your own voice as you spoke. It sounded raspy from all the moaning, and there was a hint of desperation you'd never heard in yourself before. It wasn't the first time you had begged someone for something you wanted, but it was the first time you actually meant it.

"I won't, I promise. I'm here to make you feel good." Geralt assured between slow, long licks, focusing his attention on your clit before continuing. "But if you're going to take my cock, I'll need to stretch your tight hole." You tensed again and once more he used his strategy of stroking and kissing your thighs to calm you down. You knew that penetration was an important part of the whole thing and you were ready to face it, but still, the unknown scared you a little. "I'm going to insert a finger inside you, is that all right my sweet? It might feel a little uncomfortable at first, but I promise it will feel great afterwards. But first I have to know that you still want this."

"Yes, Geralt, I want this. I trust you, please." You gave him a shy smile, looking at him with complete admiration. He saw the desire in your eyes, mixed with anticipation and a hint of fear. But you were confident in your decision, so he continued.

"Relax, I'm going to take care of you." He murmured against your skin, his kisses slowly moving closer to your wet cunt. "Just focus on the pleasure."

Geralt's voice echoed in your mind, your body obeying his commands as if he had cast a spell over you that left you with no other choice. You focused on the fire burning inside you, on the skillful way he flicked his tongue against your abused bundle of nerves and on the knot in your stomach that tightened with each passing second. You tried not to tense up as you felt Geralt's finger press against your entrance, biting your lip and taking deep breaths to calm your nerves. His tongue was doing a good job of distracting you, but you could still feel the slightly painful drag of his finger inside you.

"You're doing so well for me." Geralt complimented you, keeping his finger still inside you to give you time to get used to the new sensation. You couldn't hide how much it pleased you to hear those words, because your walls clenched around his finger, revealing your deepest desires. Geralt grunted against your pussy, fantasizing about how good your tight hole would feel around his cock.

It took you a moment to get used to the strange sensation of his intrusion. It wasn't painful exactly, mostly uncomfortable since your walls weren't used to stretching like that. But eventually the discomfort faded into pleasure, bringing new sensations as he slowly began to move his finger inside you.

Your moans became uncontrollable, increasing in volume with each of Geralt's caresses. If you weren't so wrapped up in your own pleasure, you would have worried about the possibility of being overheard by some servant or guard walking down the corridor. You knew it might potentially ruin your reputation, but you couldn't focus on anything other than the way Geralt's long, thick finger stretched you, making you feel full in the most pleasurable way possible.

"Geralt I-" You tried to speak, but the air caught in your throat as you felt the knot in your stomach becoming incredibly tight, threatening to snap.

"I know, my sweet, I know." Geralt interrupted you as he noticed your trouble forming coherent sentences. He could sense you were getting close to relief in the way your walls tightened around his finger, your juices dripping down your legs and soaking his hand. "Just let yourself go. I've got you."

Geralt added another finger inside you, stretching your walls even further. He was careful, his movements slow and precise as he both prepared you for his cock and brought you closer to the edge. His mouth focused on your clit, his lips closing around your sensitive pearl as his fingers explored your insides, reaching that spongy place deep inside you and rubbing it until your whole body shuddered with your orgasm.

It felt like your insides exploded, the tension that had been building in your core suddenly snapping as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your body. Your mind went blank, eyes rolling back as Geralt did his best to hold back the violent spasms of your muscles.

And then your body fell limp on the sheets. You could barely hear the world around you over your racing heartbeat that throbbed in your ears. You knew Geralt was muttering things against your skin as he kissed his way back up, but your mind was too lost in the pleasure to make sense of his words. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly, your body desperate for oxygen as it struggled to regain control.

"There you are!" Geralt gave you a soft smile as you opened your eyes, his face slowly coming into focus on your clouded vision. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine! That was..." you paused, searching for the words to describe it. Although explaining your feelings proved to be more difficult than you expected. You were convinced that there were no words in any language you knew to describe what he had made you feel. So you let out an airy laugh, hiding your face in his neck and spreading small kisses over his skin.

"Do you still want to go through with this?" Geralt asked you, pulling away from you a little so he could look into your eyes. You kissed him back, tasting the sweet flavor of your arousal on his tongue. It was strangely erotic for you to feel your own essence on him, like a mark that, though temporary, showed to whom his lips belonged. It sent a rush of desire and confidence through your body, igniting the fire inside you once more.

The pressure of his cock was nothing like his fingers. While the stretching sensation was not completely foreign to you, Geralt's cock was much longer and thicker than his fingers so it hurt a lot more when he began to push it into you. The mixture of your arousal and his saliva helped his member slide more easily through your walls, but you still couldn't hold back the whine of pain, which vibrated against Geralt's lips.

"It's all right... you're all right. Just a little more." He crooned as he rested his forehead against yours. His fingers caressed the skin of your hip, giving you comfort as you clung to his shoulders. "You're doing so good for me, my sweet." His voice was soft, but erratic, laced with the clear pleasure that sliding so torturously slow inside your tight walls brought him.

Geralt remained immobile once he bottomed out, spreading kisses all over your face and neck as he gave you time to adjust to his size. It was the hardest task he had ever had to do in his life. Facing any monster was easier than staying still when your warm, wet walls wrapped around him so well. He was desperate to move, pull out of you almost completely only to slam back in, thrusting his hips against yours as he pinned you against the bed. But it was your first time, so he had to be gentle with you. You weren't ready for that kind of rough loving, so Geralt pushed his dark desires aside and waited for you to give him the signal to move.

After a while, your moans of discomfort turned into whimpers of protest, not from pain, but from the growing fire inside you that wasn't being tended to. You experimentally moved your hips against Geralt's, just to see what it would feel like. It was a small movement, but it was enough to push his cock deeper inside you, sparking a pleasurable tingling sensation that spread throughout your body. So you did it again, moving with more confidence this time. And again, only this time, Geralt met you halfway, grinding his hips against yours.

Your walls tightened around his cock and the growl that escaped his lips was so deep and primal that it almost pushed you over the edge once more. Something about knowing that you were the cause of those moans, that your body, your pussy, your caresses, were responsible for such reactions was so arousing. Knowing that even though you were inexperienced you were able to elicit such pleasure in him made you feel more comfortable and confident. You were turning his world upside down as much as he was turning yours.

"You look so beautiful like this." Geralt said as he slightly increased the rhythm of his hips. "So small and fragile underneath me, eyes filled with lust as you try your best to take me in your tight hole."

You moaned into his mouth, desperately searching his lips for something to keep you grounded as pleasure took over your body and mind. Your cunt clenched at his words, finding the mix of softness and roughness in his action incredibly arousing. His hips moved against yours in a consistent and deep, yet slow and sensual rhythm. His calloused fingers roamed over your body, caressing you in such a subtle way that it gave you goosebumps. His filthy words perfectly balanced flattery and roughness, awakening feelings you didn't know you had. It was all a dangerous, overwhelming mix, slowly getting to you close to the edge.

"Does it feel good? Do you like feeling me deep inside you?" You could only moan incoherently in response, hiding your face in the crook of Geralt's neck as your nails dug into his back. "I like it too. You feel so good wrapped around me, my perfect princess."

"Yes, I'm yours! I'm all yours, please..." You begged, for what, you weren't sure. But that didn't really matter, you just wanted Geralt to do whatever he wanted with you. You knew there was no future in your relationship, but this was no time to think about tomorrow. At that moment you were giving yourself body and soul to him, allowing him permission to use and explore your body as he wished.

"Yes you are, but not just for tonight." Geralt moaned in your ear, his voice a deep hoarse whisper. He sucked a mark just below your earlobe, nibbling the sensitive area playfully before continuing to speak. "You will always remember this night and think of me when your future husband takes you to bed on your wedding night. He's not going to compare to me... to how good I'm making you feel. But that's fine, because at least you had a chance to know what it feels like to be adored like you truly deserve, my princess."

"Fuck, Geralt! I'm-" Your warning was interrupted by a moan as you felt him sink his teeth into the sensitive skin of your neck at the same time he pushed his member incredibly deep inside you.

"I know, I can feel you squeezing me so tight. It's alright, just let go for me, my sweet. I want to feel you as you come undone on my cock."

His hand traveled south, calloused fingers pressing against your abused bundle of nerves, drawing circles over it. The way your pussy clenched around his cock made it hard to focus, his own orgasm approaching with alarming speed. But he kept a steady rhythm, his hips moving in a slow, sensual way to make sure his cock brushed that special place inside you without causing you any pain.

"That's it, keep making those pretty notices for me. You're doing so good for me, my beautiful, perfect, princess. Just let go, I've got you. You're safe with me, just let go."

It was the softness in his husky voice that finally pushed you over the edge, your whole body shaking with the intensity of your orgasm. Geralt's name was the last thing you uttered before the world around you disappeared behind the waves of pleasure. It was a pathetic whimper, a plea for mercy as you felt frightened by the sheer intensity of your orgasm. Geralt was sure he had never heard a more sensual melody. The way you had uttered his name just before the pleasure exploded inside you was something he was never going to forget.

"That's it, my sweet. You did such a good job for me." He complimented you, slowing down the rhythm of his hips to give you time to recover. "You're alright. I'm here, I've got you. Just breathe... that's it."

Geralt's voice helped you refocus on the real world, his sweet kisses slowly lifting the fog that clouded your mind. You could still feel him inside you, his cock throbbing desperate for relief. The shallow thrusts weren't enough and you needed to feel him falling apart inside you. You needed to know what it felt like to have a man —and especially him— come inside you. And you knew it was safe with him since witchers were incapable of fathering children as a result of their mutations.

"Geralt, please... I want to feel you." You managed to say between gasps, locking your legs around his hips to keep him in place, pressed inside you. He let out a deep growl as he understood the meaning behind your words, his eyes darkening with lust. You were definitely going to be the death of him.

"Of course, my sweet, how could I deny you anything?" He murmurs against your lips, slowly increasing the rhythm of his hips. "You want to feel my seed deep inside you, is that it? You want me to fill you up, leave a part of me inside you so you won't miss me so much when I'm gone?"

His words alone were enough to ignite that flame inside you again. Your body was tired, but still screamed for more. Geralt's thrusts became erratic with each passing second, desperate to reach his own relief. And in the search for his pleasure he was taking you with him to a new limit.

"I will give it to you, my princess. I will give you all of me. I could never deny you anything, my sweet, beautiful girl."

His sweet words contrasted with the harshness of his movements, hips crashing against yours in desperate thrusts. He was getting closer to his relief and he could feel in the way your cunt clenched around his cock that you were too. His thumb focused on your clit once more, one, two, three strokes accompanied by his thrusts and you were crying his name again. But he didn't get to enjoy much of the way you tightened around him, because he came seconds later, shooting his load deep inside you.

Geralt collapsed on top of you, his body crushing you against the bed as you both tried to catch your breath. But even though he was much bigger than you, it wasn't an uncomfortable position. The weight of his body felt comforting against yours. You liked the way he hid his face in your neck, breathing heavily against your sweaty skin. It gave you the opportunity to stroke his back and run your fingers through his hair. It felt intimate, in a completely different way than the sex you'd just had.

You whined in protest as he rolled to the side, feeling the mixture of your arousal and his sliding down your legs now that his cock had left you. It was a strange sensation to feel empty without him inside you. You didn't know such a feeling was possible, for you that used to be normal, the only way to feel. But now that you had had Geralt buried deep inside you, that you had felt his seed filling you to the brim, you would always be aware of that strange emptiness between your legs.

"How are you feeling?" you heard him say and you struggled to open your eyes, your eyelids heavy with exhaustion. He was standing at the foot of the bed, a cloth in his hand, and you wondered when he had moved from your side without you noticing.

"Great! That was... great." You mumbled, still unable to find an adequate word to describe how good he had made you feel.

Geralt gave you a small smile before lowering his face to your legs, placing small kisses on your skin as he moved closer and closer to your center. "Open up for me, my princess. I need to clean you."

You reluctantly complied, feeling much more exposed and vulnerable now that the deed was done. However, he was gentle with you, moving carefully as he cleaned you so as not to irritate your sensitive, abused cunt. And when he was done, he kissed his way down your face, caressing your skin with his lips, culminating his journey in your mouth.

"What about you?" you tried to sound casual as you spoke, though you failed miserably. "Was it... good for you too?" You immediately regretted your choice of words, worrying that you had ruined the moment.

"I thought I had been quite clear if not with my words, with my actions at least." Geralt let out an airy laugh and you followed suit, feeling a little more relieved.

Then the room fell into silence. It wasn't an awkward or uncomfortable one, but a peaceful one. You got lost in Geralt's eyes, admiring the yellow glow that was much softer now, though just as captivating. The candlelight reflected in them in a special way, highlighting their unique beauty. You could stare at them for hours if it weren't for the tiredness that was slowly beginning to take hold of you.

You didn't realize you had closed your eyes until you felt Geralt move beside you. You stopped feeling the weight of his body on the bed, so you opened your eyes immediately. Your hand flew to his arm, fingers closing around his wrist. "Please don't go," you begged as you saw that he had sat up in bed. "I want you to stay with me tonight."

Geralt smiled, the corners of his lip curving slightly upward as he reached out with his free arm to grab the blanket that had been left forgotten at the foot of the bed. His eyes lowered to your hand and his expression turned hard as he noticed the ligature marks on your skin. He hated to know the horrible treatment that someone as delicate and beautiful as you had to go through at the hands of those bandits. Even though he had rescued you before something even worse happened to you, as he looked at the marks on your wrists he feared he had not been quick enough.

Noticing the change in his expression, your eyes followed Geralt's gaze with curiosity. You felt embarrassed when you realized what he was looking at with such intensity and released his grip on his arm, seeking to hide your injured wrist. But he didn't let you. Geralt intertwined his fingers with yours and brought your hand to his lips. His eyes didn't break contact with you as he scattered delicate kisses over the irritated area of your wrist, showing you that you had nothing to be ashamed of with him.

"I'm not going anywhere if you don't want me to, my princess. I'm here to serve you tonight." Geralt said as he lay down next to you once again, covering you both with the blanket.

You took advantage of his words and his desire to please you by curling up against him, resting your head on his chest. Geralt wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you even tighter against his body as he let his fingers trace invisible patterns on your skin. It was extremely relaxing, his gentle touch and the warmth of his body enveloping you was exactly what your tired mind needed to rest. All the fear, the terrifying memories of your attackers and the feeling of danger completely disappeared as he held you in his arms.

"Good, because I feel safer when I'm in your arms." You mumbled as you closed your eyes, feeling sleep slowly overcome you.

It was hard to say goodbye to Geralt when the time came for him to leave. He had only stayed at the castle for a couple of days at your father's insistence, but that had been more than enough for you to grow fond of him. He was not a very talkative person, but that only made your conversations more interesting. He was intriguing, a closed book that only opened with the pronunciation of the right words. You had fun unraveling some of his history, hearing about his adventures and the monsters he had faced. He was definitely the most interesting man you had ever met - far more interesting and noble than most of the men who were competing for your hand in marriage. And now you had to see him go.

You always knew that your days were numbered, that Geralt would eventually leave and you would have to go back to reality. You thought you could do it, enjoy his company and the illusion of freedom you had created with him and then say goodbye as if nothing happened, but you would be lying if you said you weren't a little sad about his departure. Especially because you didn't know if you would ever see him again. Maybe on your wedding day, if you invited Jaskier to play at the festivities he would bring him as security again. Or perhaps, if the kingdom was haunted by some evil creature he would find his way back to you. But nothing was certain and that made you feel quite sad.

"I guess this is our goodbye." You watched Geralt settle his horse's saddle, tucking away his swords and clutching his bag as he prepared to leave. You tried to hide the grimace of sadness that wanted to form on your face, but the disappointment in your voice betrayed you. "I'll never see you again, will I?"

Geralt stopped what he was doing to look you in the eyes. You could have sworn you saw a glint of sadness in the golden fire of his irises, though it disappeared as he blinked. "It'll probably be a while, yeah." He sighed. "But nothing is set in stone. Maybe the search for a job will bring me back down these roads."

You smiled. Even moments before he left, he was still making an effort to make you feel good. "I'd like that." You took a couple of steps closer to him, taking his hand in yours to feel his skin against yours one last time. "The gates of this castle will always be open to you, Geralt of Rivia. And as long as I am alive, you will always find safe passage through these lands."

"Thank you, your highness. It is an honor." He bowed slightly even though he knew it was not necessary. Formalities had been forgotten between you since your night together. Then, he took your hand and brought it to his mouth. His lips caressed your skin gently, planting a soft kiss of farewell. "Until we meet again."

You held back the urge you had to taste the flavor of his lips one last time, knowing that there were too many eyes around you that would deem such behavior inappropriate. And perhaps they were right, after all, a respectable maiden like you, in search of a husband to marry and rule with, could not be seen kissing anybody. You knew you would probably regret it for the rest of your life —especially if Geralt never stopped by again—, but it was the right thing to do. Your days of freedom were over, now you had to resume your responsibilities as a princess and that meant holding back the urge you had to run after Geralt, get on his horse and let him take you wherever he wanted. So you just watched him leave, seeing how his figure became smaller and smaller on the horizon while you wished with all your soul that fate would cross your path again.

#geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x fem reader #geralt of rivia smut #geralt x reader smut #the witcher x reader #the witcher x reader smut #geralt x reader #the witcher smut #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher netflix #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader

1K notes · View notes

acotarxreader · 1 month

Text

Lessons in Herbology

Azriel X Reader

Synopsis: You and Azriel are frequently at odds with one another but when Azriel accidently destroys your life's work, the illyrian will do anything to make it up to you.

Warnings: Angst, Smut, scratching? biting

A/N: Alrighty we got some frenemies smut situation going on hehe let me know what you think friends!

-----------------------------------------

“AZRIEL!” You screamed from the top of the stairs of the Town House, your voice carried through the whole house and practically into the neighbour's. You had never been so angry with him in your life, with real thoughts that you were going to kill him. You quickly stepped down the stairs, your gait heavily weighted with rage.

“Gods YN, I was in the kitchen not Summer Court” Azriel laughed, meeting you at the bottom of the stairs. His eyes landed on the shredded manuscript you held in your hand, his eyes moved from the ribbons of paper to your enraged eyes. Azriel bolted towards the lounge where your friends sat alarmed at the volume of your voice and pace of Azriels sprint. You darted after him only to have a weight thrown into your stomach, hoisting you off your feet and over a broad shoulder.

“CASS! PUT ME DOWN” Cassian held you as you tried to wriggle from the fireman-style hold, some of the shreds of paper flying around the room.

“Calm down YN we can fix whatever it is - Gods stop hitting me!” he fought against the urge to drop you, Azriel taking sanctuary stood behind the sofa. You allow your body to go limp, forcing a deep breath from your lungs until they empty.

“What on Prythian is going on in here? I heard the shouting from the end of the garden?” Rhysand entered the lounge to his friends, concern and humour painted his face.

“He shredded my FINAL DRAFT of the medicinal encyclopedia I was writing to finally finish my fucking healer apprenticeship” the group inhaled sharply at the severity. You had been working on that for months, it needed to be submitted in a week, eyes all then landing on Azriel.

“I didn’t mean to! I was looking for something in your room and my shadows got a bit frantic at the urgency and-” “-What the hell were you doing in my room?!” you still hung over Cassian's shoulder, simmering in anger.

“-I was looking for Truth Teller AFTER YOU USED IT TO CUT UP HERB SAMPLES” Azriels own voice raising, remembering the disrespect you had shown him the week previously.

“-I’M GOING TO KILL YOU SHADOWSINGER” You began thrashing again, Cassian's fingers burying into your hips.

“Would you two hurry up and have sex already?” The room's eyes landed on a very bored Amren as she rose and made her exit. You breathed deeply out once again.

“Okay, okay, I am calm, I am zen, put me down”

“Ehh I don’t think-”

“I SAID I’M FUCKING ZEN-” you coughed after shouting, clearing your throat before speaking again “-Ahem, I mean, Cassian, if you would please return me to the ground, I am Zen” Cassian glanced at Azriel who looked genuinely terrified.

“Okay, no killing Az though, he owes me a drink-”

“Wow thanks, Cass, my life is only worth a glass of whiskey” Azriel rolled his eyes to his brother as Cassian lowered you to the ground. You ran your hands down the front of your trousers, breathing out until the blood rush from being upside down released itself.

The inner circle watched as you moved towards the kitchen, Azriel remaining behind the sofa as a buffer. You returned a jug of water and the broom, no one taking their eyes off you.

“Cass, please help me with this for a moment” You stood on the edge of the opposite sofa to Azriel, placing the mouth of the jug flush to the roof, the broom then pushed at the base supporting the jug. You gestured with your head for Cassian to take hold of the broom, allowing you to release the jug, its weight now supported by Cassian holding the broom.

“Now, don’t move or you’ll soak the place Cass-”

“-wait what?” Cassian's confusion was cut off by your sudden movement darting towards Azriel.

“COME HERE AZRIEL!” you flew over the sofa that was protecting Azriel, slamming into his chest and sending him flying to the ground, Cassian was completely caught off guard and unsure of what to do, looking between the jug and his two friends near killing one another. Mor, Rhysand and Feyre keeled over with laughter.

—---------------------------

You lay flat on your bed, staring up at the ceiling, the magnitude of the workload ahead of you washing over you. You left a soaked Cassian to mop up the water after Rhysand finally caught his breath from laughing to separate you from Azriel. You allowed the tears to fall down your cheeks, unable to hold them in any longer.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, sighing while trying to pull the tears back in, a knock gently tapping off your oak door. You silently hoped it was Cassian or Feyre, wishing to openly cry into their arms at your future dissolving in front of your eyes. You opened the door, Azriel blowing in the door passed you before you could close it on him. You were shocked as you closed the door gently so as not to wake the rest of the house, Azriel pacing your room.

“Azriel, please go, I just can’t with you right now” “YN, I am so so s- were you crying?” you span away from him, drifting over towards your bed, climbing into the centre of the shredded paper nest you had made.

“Look, I’m really sorry about the manuscript, normally I wouldn’t care if I drove you this insane but I really didn’t set out to ruin your manuscript as some sort of vendetta-” “You’re rambling Az” “Sorry sorry, long story short I’m here to help you rewrite the whole thing-” your laugh at his words cutting him off before he continued, sitting at the edge of your bed to continue his plea.

“I know I don’t know anything about healing other than what not to do but I can write a lot faster than you and I know you hate me right now but I’m still your friend in a weird us kinda way right?” you didn’t have a reply to that. You and Azriel frequently fought but you were still friends beneath it all.

You didn't expect your body to move towards his, exhaustion and stress perhaps blurring your thought process. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug, his arms wrapping around your waist returning the sentiment. You fought against your body again, losing the fight as tears began to fall from your waterline once again.

“I am a terrible friend” he whispered into your hair, feeling the scope of the burden his haste had brought you.

“Yeah, you kinda are” You laughed through your tears, your joking tone returned the lightness to Azriels chest. Silence fell around the room, you both just taking a moment to hold one another in ease, a new sense of comfort growing between you both.

You separated, moving deeper into the bed, handing him blank sheets and a pen as you wiped your tears with your sleeve. Azriel slid into the bed alongside you and after a quick debrief, you both began the work of diving into herbology.

You both wrote and researched until three in the morning rolled around, and your eyes grew heavy, sleep fighting your need to keep writing.

“Okay YN, that’s enough” Azriel barely whispered as your eyes finally lost the fight. Your weight fell softly into Azriels side as he gently pulled the pen and paper from your hand. His shadows swept up the stray sheets into a pile on the floor before they pulled a throw blanket from the base of the bed over the both of you. Azriel too tired to fight their mother-hen energy.

—----------------------------

The sunlight crossed your eyes as you rested into Azriels chest causing you to squint into the unforgiving rays. You rolled into Azriels side tighter, further tangling your legs together with a groan of comfort. You then shot upwards in the bed.

“Gods YN what's wrong?” he stretched the words out while straightening his arms out above his head, his eyes adjusting to the light.

“I just woke up next to you is what's wrong! Leave before someone sees you, they'll never let it go” “YN don’t be annoying, nothing happened-” he rolled back towards you, reaching his arm across your abdomen and pulling you back into the mattress “-you were blocking the sun from my eyes a minute ago” You hit him gently into the chest laughing at his dumb smirk and yet you obeyed.

“OH MY GODS I NEED TO FINISH WRITING” You shot back up remembering the mammoth workload ahead of you, Azriel being sent flying towards the floor with your sudden upward movement.

“Okay okay fucking hell, I'll go get you a coffee” he half laughed, pushing himself from the ground and quietly out into the hall.

Azriel strode down the stairs, feeling weirdly warm towards the thoughts of this morning.

“Hey Az, do you-” “Nothing! I did nothing” Cassian raised an eyebrow to the spymaster's rushed and unusually uncontrolled response.

“Okay, I’m going to choose to pretend that wasn’t incredibly suspicious” he laughed from the lounge where he sipped his coffee.

“Wait, I thought you went to the House of Wind last night”

“Yeah I was but then YN and I fell asleep after-” “After what Az? Wait, did you just come out of her room?” he couldn’t hide the giddy smug tone coating his words.

“No no no” Azriel tried to brush him off, moving into the kitchen with Cassian hot on his heels.

“Azriel, did you and YN-” “-Cassian! Do not finish that sentence!” Azriel scrunched his eyes together before reaching for a coffee mug from the press.

“Az, you don’t drink coffee” Cassian smirk now turning to a blinding grin.

“It's for YN and before you start, I was helping her with her manuscript and then we fell asleep, literally nothing else happened” Azriel boiled the water, still refusing to turn to face the Illyrian warrior.

“Did you want something to happen Az? Was it a lesson in Chemistry instead of a lesson in Herbology?” The question caught him entirely off guard, dropping the pouch of coffee granules into the sink with a swear.

“Ohhhhh Azie like YNN-ie”

“Shh she could hear you” he whipped around to his brother with panic at his teasing tone.

“Oh shit you didn’t deny it” Cassin punched Azriel’s arm playfully but harder than intended, some element of his protective nature rearing its head.

“Look, I don’t know, you know I don’t know, I just find her mesmerising but also a mind-altering amount of frustrating”

“Ohh Az you got it so bad for her” he pushed Azriel coltishly again. Azriel returned to finishing the coffee, the noticeable silence from his brother raising a question in his mind. Azriel turned back to find Cassian's eyes fixed heavily onto the ground, now unable to meet his eye.

“Cass…what do you know?”

“N-nothing” Azriel only raised an eyebrow in response, he would always be able to spot a lie, especially with Cassian. Azriel caught Cassian's shoulders and forced him to look into his eyes

“Cassian, you need to tell me right now if I even have the slightest of chances with YN'' The clear and definitive tone of Azriels voice was not lost on Cassian.

“Yeah Az, I kind of do know something” Cassian then proceeded to tell Aziel the story of you. How you liked him since you met four hundred years ago, how you believed you would never be like Mor in his eyes, how you knew you’d never be like Elain in his eyes, your fighting going into overdrive, especially at the time of Elains introduction to your world. How you tried to process and bury your feelings, choosing to stay his frenemy rather than ever risk losing him to unrequited feelings. At the end of it, Azriel felt awash with every and all emotion.

“So wait what about now, does she still feel those feelings?” “Do you want to be with her?”

“We’re not talking about me right now Cass, we’re talking about her! Well?!” “Yeah Az, she still does - Gods she's going to kill me where I stand” Azriel barely heard what was said after the confirmation of what he had secretly wanted for so long. He took a step back from Cass, shock colouring his face before he found his feet rushing him up the stairs and away from Cassian's calls to be careful.

You sat writing away, almost halfway complete with the rewrite as Azriel nearly lashed the door off the hinges and slammed it closed almost as hard. Azriel almost took two steps at a time as he closed the distance between you, he snatched the paper from your hands, throwing it any which way.

“Az what the fuck-” Your confused laugh was cut off as Azriel lunged forward, pushing you into the bed, and hovering above you. You looked into his hazel eyes, which seemed almost lit with fear before he leaned down and connected his lips to yours. You felt the stress he had caused you yesterday be instantly replaced with a pure lightness. He pulled back to look into your eyes again, his face the picture of apologies and petrification, not believing his actions.

“I am so sor-” You cut off his apology by pulling him back to meet you, him smiling into your lips as they met hurriedly.

“This-is-so-crazy” he breathes between kisses.

“It-could-get-crazier” You almost giggled into the breathy kisses, Azriels shadows responding to you by wrapping around your curves. You sat up from beneath him, only separating from him to pull your shirt from over your head, Azriel repeating the action with his own linen. You ran your hands down his chiselled bare chest and he began to nip at yours.

“Are you sure you want to do this YN?” you smiled at his kind eyes, placing a tender kiss in reassurance. As you separated his eyes had turned lustful, your hand reaching and grazing his bulge, gaining a slight groan from him. He promptly stood and removed his trousers as you kicked off your own, sliding further into the bed and beckoning him to follow you. You let out a whimper at the feeling of his teeth marbling your neck, marking you as his.

“I’m gonna give you such crap about that beautiful noise later YN” he grinned, abusing the spot that gained the noise causing more to leave you. He claimed the spot until dapples decorated your skin, the feeling of him hard against you was driving you crazy quickly. You bucked your hips up to meet him harder in sweet friction.

“Okay I can’t wait any longer, I need you, I really fucking need you” he panted, pulling his underwear down, unleashing his full glory, your mouth almost drying at the sight.

Azriel slowly inched into you, allowing you to adjust to the massive length of him, your nails digging into his shoulders in glorious pain. Azriel raised a hand above your head to support himself, your eyes squeezed shut in pleasure as he began to move. Your nails racked up his back at the growing speed, your growing moans spurring him on. Azriels wings splayed out to balance himself, your hand found itself trancing gently the spines sending gratifying shivers down Azriels back.

Your head fell back as you both began to sink into synchronised movement, tightening around him the band began to tighten and tighten and tighten until finally, it snapped. You almost roared his name at the release of pure endorphins, the sound sending Azriel sailing over his own edge. Your legs still wrapped around him as he began to shake through his own orgasm before he slowly pulled out and collapsed breathlessly beside you.

Azriel sat up, hauling the duvet up and over you both as you leaned your back flush with his chest, breathing, fighting to return to regular rhythm.

“Four hundred years huh?” Azriel puffed the words out with a smile. You took a moment to process the words.

“I am going to kill Cassian” You squeezed your eyes closed in almost embarrassment, Azriel leaning forward and kissing your cheek softly.

“Am I forgiven for the manuscript incident?” you hummed in answer to his question, eyes relaxing closed as you both tangled together. You looked to the ground to see Azriel’s shadows mending shreds of paper together.

“Az…did you know that your shadows could do that?” you sat up looking at the now-mended manuscript on the floor.

“Eh…yes I did, I just wanted to spend time with you, don’t kill me” he looked panicked to your disbelief. You just allowed a loud laugh to escape your chest at the absurdity of it all.

“I think you’ll be making it up to me for the rest of your life” “I can’t wait”

----------------------------------

551 notes · View notes

serpentandlily · 4 days

Text

Beneath the Ashes (I/II) - Azriel x Reader

Beneath the Ashes Part I - Azriel x Illyrian!Reader

Summary: Azriel finally finds the girl he’s been looking for all these years—his mate. But unfortunately for him, his mate happens to be an Illyrian who, upset over the fact that he’s turned his back on his own people, wants nothing to do with him. (Enemies to lovers vibes, angst)

a/n: based on this REQUEST. This is going to be a two part story because I kind of went a little too hard writing this haha. Thank you for your request and the inspiration! (Also I know a lot of you asked to be on a taglist for this story but since it’s only 2 parts I’m not gonna make one)

warnings: misogyny, sexism

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

Part I of II

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

Azriel was not happy, to say the least. Not as he landed on the cold, hard ground of one of the Illyrian war camps in the northern region of the mountains. He internally cursed at Cassian for still being on his mating honeymoon with Nesta because now he was being forced to do things Cass would normally be in charge of—primarily dealing with the Illyrians.

It wasn't a secret that Azriel hated Illyria and all its people. Hated that he came from such a barbaric, backwards culture. He knew Cass was trying to do all he could to break the traditions Illyrians held, but Azriel had always told him they were a lost cause. If he could never see these damn mountains again, he'd consider it a blessing.

But, evidently, that was not a blessing he'd be allowed—at least, not until Cassian returned. For now, he was the one who was being sent out on these missions by his High Lord.

Rhys had gotten word that some commotion was happening in the camp that had its people up in arms about something. He had asked Azriel to go check it out and who was he to turn down a request from his brother? So here he was. He was just hoping to get this over with soon.

He had tried sending his shadows ahead of time to collect intel, but they had been acting weird ever since they returned to him. They had swarmed him with their cryptic messages.

Beautiful.

Our master must see.

Permission to kill, master?

Needless to say, Azriel had no fucking idea what any of that meant. He had given them no such permission to kill, at least, not until he could see for himself what was transpiring here.

He was passing by the training rings, ignoring the stares of the brutes who were working out and sparring within them, when he heard several sets of loud voices. He quickened his pace, following the voices into the residential section of the camp until he finally beheld what was causing the commotion.

Three males were on the porch of one of the cabins, restraining a female Illyrian, who was thrashing around like a wildcat, screaming, "Let me go, you assholes!"

Another male Azriel recognized as the War Lord of the camp was standing on the steps leading up to the small cabin, arms crossed and a sneer on his face. A male next to him was holding a blubbering Illyrian toddler, whose arms were outstretched towards the female with tears pouring down her chubby cheeks.

None of them had noticed him yet which Azriel used to his advantage. His shadows were already wailing when he let them loose. They spiraled towards the group, swirling around the males holding the female and yanking them away from her. All of their heads snapped in Azriel's direction except for the female. She tumbled to the ground but quickly scrambled to get up and rushed towards the male next to the War Lord, not even sparing a glance at what had caused the males to unleash her.

She went to grab the little girl from the male holding her but was quickly held back by the War Lord with a growl. The War Lord twisted her arms behind her back, holding her in place, but his glare was firmly set on Azriel.

Azriel's face displayed no emotions as he stalked forward, his hand ghosting over Truth-Teller.

"Shadowsinger," the War Lord bit out in greeting. The other males quickly got to their feet and stood at attention.

"Silas," Azriel said, not bothering to address him properly which made the male bristle, "Care to explain what is happening here?"

"None of your business, Shadowsinger," Silas hissed. "I have it under control."

"Doesn't seem like it," Azriel replied, coolly.

The female was still trying to break out of Silas's grip, cursing under her breath. He tightened his hold on her, causing her to hiss in pain as he twisted her wrists in his hands. Azriel's shadows seemed to hiss in response, poised to attack as soon as Azriel gave them permission.

Azriel's gaze fell on the female, noting the frustrated tears in her eyes. It seemed like there had been a scuffle. Her hair was half falling out of her braid, she had scrape marks on one of her cheeks, and a bruise was beginning to form on her jaw. One of her wings was flared out proudly while the other drooped to the floor at a weird angle. His fists clenched at the sight and when she finally looked up at him, her eyes meeting his, the breath was completely knocked out of his lungs.

Despite her tattered appearance, she was single-handedly the most beautiful female he had ever laid eyes on. He stood frozen for a moment, taken aback before he shook himself out of the spell she seemed to cast on him, realizing how inappropriate of a time it was to be ogling her.

"Let her go, Silas," Azriel commanded in a dark voice.

"I don't take orders from you," Silas spat out. "Besides, this female has been breaking the law for months now. We're taking her into custody."

"Fuck you," the female barked out, stomping on Silas's foot. The male cursed and went to strike her on the back of her head but Azriel's shadow caught his wrist in their grasp before he could.

"I said," Azriel growled, lowly, causing the males to shift in place, "Let her go."

"Fine," Silas sneered, though a tiny bit of fear flashed in his dark eyes. He pushed her to the ground in front of him. She was quick to spring back to her feet and rush towards the toddler who was still screeching. The male could hardly keep hold of the little girl.

"Let the babe go, too," Azriel snapped. The male scoffed but set the little girl down. She immediately ran to the female who bent down with her arms wide open, catching the little girl and standing with her firmly on her hip. The little girl's cries quieted down and she buried her small face in the female's neck.

"Would anyone like to tell me what the hell is going on here?" Azriel snarled, taking another step closer. Half the males mirrored his step back and he fought the urge to chuckle.

"Like I said," Silas snapped, "This female has been breaking the law—”

“What law?” Azriel asked, firmly.

“Females are not permitted to live alone nor own houses,” Silas barked out. “She has ignored our warnings—”

“My father left the cabin to me in his will!” The female shouted, causing the small toddler in her arms to whimper. She stroked the girl's hair, shushing her. “It belongs to me.”

“I don’t care what your father promised you,” Silas growled. “It is against the law for you to be living here alone. You must surrender the cabin and go live in the barracks with the other unwed females of marrying age. Your sister will be placed under the care of the matron.”

“Like hell I’m leaving her under the care of that female! You’re just going to have her wings clipped and force her to do grueling chores all day! She stays with me!”

“You are out of line! I knew your father wasn’t raising the two of you right. Ever since your mother passed away—”

“Don’t you dare say another word about my parents!”

The War Lord lunged towards the female with a growl but Azriel shadowed between them, unsheathing Truth-Teller and pressing it against the male’s throat.

“Lay a hand on her and I’ll gut you right here in front of all of your brutes,” Azriel snarled.

Silas stepped back with a scoff. “You want to stick your nose in our business? Fine, then she’s your problem. I expect her out of this house by the end of today, Shadowsinger, or there will be worse consequences.��

He stormed away, his entourage trailing behind him while sending glares to the female. Azriel waited until they were out of view before he turned to look at the female but she was gone from next to him, already walking up the steps to the cabin with the babe—her sister—on her hip.

Azriel went to follow her but she stormed into the cabin and slammed the door in his face before he could so much as utter a single word. He let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before he knocked on the door. When Rhys had mentioned a problem happening in this camp, he hadn't expected to deal with something like this. It would’ve been much easier if it had been a problem he could solve with his fists.

When she didn't answer, he knocked harder—nearly causing the door to shutter.

It flung open a second later, a seething female behind it. "I already told those assholes I'm not leaving. If you're here to tell me to pack up and move, you can kiss my ass."

Azriel had to stop his lips from twitching into an amused smirk at her words. He wasn't used to dealing with female Illyrians that had attitudes. Most of them kept their heads down and stayed quiet. His mother had been like that....

"I'm not here to tell you that," Azriel answered. "May I come inside?"

She leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms and staring him down. He found himself even more amused at how she was trying to intimidate him. Most fae avoided him and his gaze. But a female, whose head barely reached his shoulders, seemed to be completely unfazed by him.

"No, you may not," she snapped. "Anything you need to say to me can be said perfectly fine from where you're standing."

“Can I at least bring a healer to come check out your injuries?” He eyed the scrapes on her face, the bruise and her drooping wing. Azriel’s chest ached at the sight and anger pulsed under his skin. He wanted to turn around and go rip those males apart limb by limb for laying a hand on her.

“I don’t need your help, shadowsinger,” she spat out.

"Fine," Azriel sighed. "I was sent by the High Lord because there's been reports of someone here causing disarray. I'm going to assume that someone is you."

She shrugged, nonchalantly, her eyes flickering between his own and the shadows swirling around him that wouldn't shut up about how beautiful she was, how brave....They were singing her praise. It confused him. His shadows had never acted like this before.

When she failed to answer, Azriel cleared his throat, uncomfortably. “Will you answer my question?”

“Aren’t you the spymaster?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Shouldn’t you be able to gather intel yourself and not rely on a lowly Illyrian female?”

“A lowly Illyrian female?” Azriel raised an eyebrow at her crass words towards herself.

“Isn’t that how you and all the High Lord’s dogs view us?” Her tone was biting, her eyes filled with hate.

Azriel shifted, at a loss for words. He was used to being met with hostility by the Illyrians, but never usually from the females themselves. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

It was a lousy response, but he truly had no idea what to say. She scoffed, rolling her eyes at him and moved from the doorway, grasping the door.

“Even if I could help you, I wouldn’t care enough to do so,” she snapped. “Now, if that is all, you can kindly escort yourself off my property, shadowsinger. Thank you.”

The door slammed in his face a second later.

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

Azriel returned a few hours later with a letter from the High Lord in his hands. He stormed through the camp, once again ignoring all the glares sent his way. He pushed his way inside the main war tent where Silas was sitting at his desk, twirling a dagger in his hands. His dark eyes looked up at him as he walked in, narrowing.

“You’re back,” Silas said, voice dripping with disdain. “I noticed that the female has still not been relocated from the cabin.”

Azriel strode forward and slammed the letter down on his desk. Silas’s eyes dipped down to it, quickly reading the short message before he looked back up at Azriel with a sneer. “What is this?”

“A notice from the High Lord and Lady,” Azriel answered, face unreadable. “Any laws that forbid a female from living alone or owning property are hereby revoked. This repeal shall be set in motion immediately.”

"I can read just fine, Shadowsinger," Silas snapped. "I meant what the fuck is this? Does Rhysand think he can just snap his fingers and remove laws that have been around for centuries? I refuse to allow this."

"You'll address the High Lord properly or I'll cut your tongue out for your disrespect," Azriel growled. "The High Lord and High Lady can do whatever they want. You will abide by these new laws or your title of War Lord in this camp will be revoked."

Silas looked like he wanted to say more, a vein in his forehead pulsing, but he only tightened his hands into fists and let out a long breath. "Very well then, Shadowsinger. I assume you've already informed Y/n of this?"

"Y/n?"

Silas smirked. "You ran to tattle on us to the High Lord and didn't even know the name of the bitch you—"

Before anything else could come out of the War Lord's mouth, Azriel stalked forward and kicked his desk over, causing both Silas and all his paperwork and trinkets to smash on the floor. The War Lord let out a pathetic gasp in fear, scrambling to his feet and pressing himself against the back of the tent.

"Talk about her like that again," Azriel snarled. "And I'll rip out your throat."

Silas quickly tried to school his composure but Azriel could still see the lingering terror in his eyes. Silas straightened out his leathers before glaring at him. "It's nice to see the Illyrian is still in you after all this time, Shadowsinger. Once a brute, always a brute—isn't that what you like to say?"

Azriel felt his pulse spike at Silas's words. He hated being reminded that he was Illyrian, even more so being compared to the worst of them. He wasn’t even sure why such rage had sparked in him in the first place. Silas's lips twitched into a smirk as he saw the way his words striked through him. But Azriel didn't wait around to hear what else the asshole had to say, letting his raging shadows swoop him into their darkness.

He stepped out of the shadows and onto the porch of the cabin he had been at earlier. He took several breaths, trying to calm himself before gently knocking on the door. After no one answered for a moment, he lifted his fist to knock again but the door was pulled open, leaving his hand to hover in the air. He dropped it to his side, narrowing his eyebrows as he was met with no one.

"Hewwo."

Azriel nearly jumped in fright before his gaze dropped to the toddler that stood in the doorway. It was the little girl from earlier, Y/n's sister. He swallowed harshly, eyes darting around the foyer of the cabin in hopes that her sister would pop out any second but no one came. He wasn't good with children, and wasn't used to being around them. Nyx was the only child he had ever really been around and he was still a baby.

Azriel sighed and crouched down on his haunches, making him more eye level for the little girl. Her shoulder length hair was the same color as her sister’s, her eyes too. The resemblance between the two of them was undeniable.

"Hello there," Azriel said as gently as he could. "Is your sister home by any chance?"

“Mhm,” the little girl hummed, busy watching the swirling shadows all around him.

"Do you think you can go get her for me?"

She shook her head no, her hair bobbing with the motion.

"Why not?" Azriel asked, keeping his voice light.

"Cause I'll get in trouble," she said with a little lisp. "Mm not 'pposed to open the door."

Azriel smiled at her, trying to appear friendly. He was surprised that she didn't seem scared of him or his shadows, as most kids were. "Don't worry, I won't tell her you opened the door for me. It can be our little secret."

She looked to be contemplating his promise, her little nose scrunched up. One of his shadows whisked forward and started swirling around her tiny frame. To Azriel's surprise, the little girl giggled, swiping her hand around to try and catch it.

"Suri, what are you—Get away from her!"

Y/n came thundering down the hall, yanking her sister away from the doorframe. Azriel stood to his full height, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as she glared at him before turning to look down at her sister.

"Suri, go to your room."

"No," Suri pouted, crossing her little arms. "I wanna play with the shadows."

Azriel's lips twitched. This was quite possibly the first time a child had ever seemed anything but scared of his shadows. It was oddly endearing.

"Go to your room," Y/n commanded in a stronger voice. "Now."

Suri stomped her foot but did as she was told, disappearing from his view.

"What are you doing back here?" She hissed, once her sister was gone.

Azriel pulled out the other parchment paper he had brought with him, the same notice he had given Silas. He held it out for her. "I came to deliver this."

She took the paper from him, glancing at him suspiciously. Azriel watched as her pretty doe eyes scanned the parchment, reading Rhysand's elegant script. To his surprise, she started to chuckle to herself. She handed it back to him, her face twisted into a mocking smirk.

"Do you honestly think this is going to stop them from trying to kick me out of this house?" She asked him, sarcastically. His eyebrows furrowed. "I'm guessing you're going to patrol this camp for a week or two to make sure they're adhering to the notice and then you'll wipe your hands clean of this all, pretending the High Lord solved everything. But you know the day you stop showing up here, Silas will be at my doorstep."

"I can assure you that we'll do everything we can to make sure all the WarLords follow these new laws," Azriel said, his face unreadable and his voice detached. She shook her head with a smile that lacked any warmth. “I promise you that.”

"Right," she drawled out, "Well, thank you so much for your help, shadowsinger."

She went to shut the door but Azriel stuck his hand out, catching it before she could. His gaze fell to her drooping wing, still bent at an awkward angle. "Please, let me bring a healer to attend to your wing."

Her wing could heal on her own. It would probably only take a day or two, but just seeing it made Azriel's chest ache. He knew the pain she must be in.

Her eyes narrowed. "Don't pretend like you care about my wings."

"I've broken a wing before, too," he explained. "I know how much it hurts. Please, let me help you."

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Do you want to know the difference between my wings and your's, shadowsinger? Your wings healed. You get to fly. Mine will never heal."

Azriel's gaze dropped back to her wings, now noticing the two scars—clipped. Her wings had been clipped. His heart dropped into his stomach, rage bubbling to the surface instead.

"Who?" he growled, his voice ice cold.

"Like I said," she bit out, "Don't pretend like you care."

"I do care," Azriel replied, fists clenching. And it was true, he did. Wing clipping was a heinous crime, one that had been outlawed since Rhys was sworn in as the High Lord of the Night Court. Of course, sometimes the practice of wing clipping still took place in remote camps that slipped through the cracks. "Wing clipping has been forbidden since—"

"I am well aware that wing clipping is forbidden," she snapped. "But like your stupid little notice, no one cares. And the High lord and all of his cronies, you included, Shadowsinger, have made it very clear that you don't either."

"We do care," Azriel argued. "We do. But we cannot keep watch of all the camps at all times. We rely on people reporting it—"

"Oh, spare me from hearing your excuses," she cut him off with a growl. "Do you want to know who did this to me? Here's a clue—go look in the High Lord's desk for a letter addressed from me. I've been sending one every single day for the past six years so there's bound to be at least one still around."

"Six...six years?" Azriel questioned, quietly. "You've been sending a letter every day for six years and not one of them was ever answered?"

Sure, Rhysand had been gone for fifty years, of course and the rest of them had been unable to leave Velaris thanks to him. Then, they had been busy with the war and didn’t have time to deal with inner court problems. But it had been two years since then and she was still sending letters. Letters looking for justice for what happened to her. Letters gone unanswered.

"Not a single one," she huffed.

"Y/n...I am so sorry—"

"Save it," she barked out. "Now, if we're done here, I'd like you to leave."

"Please, let me help you—"

Azriel choked in surprise as something within snapped. He couldn’t breath, taking a single step back as a golden thread weaved its way through the space between him and the female standing before him.

Before his brain could even process what just happened, the door was slammed in his face. But Azriel stood frozen on her porch. Frozen in shock because he had finally found his mate. After all these years, he had finally found the person he had been searching for.

And she absolutely hated him.

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

Your wing had healed enough by the next morning that you could lift it off the ground, though it was rather painful to do so. Your pride made you suck it up, not wanting to go to the healer and have anyone touch your wings. No one had laid a hand on your wings since the day they were clipped and you wanted to keep it that way.

You got ready for the day, putting on one of your mother's old white, chemise dresses. It fell to the top of your boots, swishing around your ankles. You layered a dark blue skirt over it before putting on a front lace-up corset. You grimaced as you did up the buttons under your injured wings before you tightened the corset until it fit snuggly. Lastly, you threw on a cloak. It was snowing outside today and the last thing you needed was to freeze to death.

You stepped in the hallway, the cabin quiet. You went to wake up Suri to get her ready for the day. Normally she was still asleep, so you were surprised when you heard her voice the closer you got to the door to her bedroom.

"Bad doggy," she babbled, her voice muffled through the door. "You can't go in there."

Your eyes widened, realizing she was talking to someone or something. You quickly slammed her door open, eyes darting around in concern. Suri jumped as her door banged open, spinning around on her bed to look at you. A small shadow wisped behind her, like it was hiding.

"Suri?" You questioned. "Who were you talking to?"

"Issy!" Suri sang out, jumping off her bed in her little pajamas. She still called you issy, unable to pronounce your name easily or the word sister. "The doggy came back!"

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "The what?"

The shadow darted out from behind Suri, swirling around her and causing the little girl to giggle, "Doggy!"

Your eyes narrowed. One of Azriel's shadows had not only lingered behind, but had been staying with your baby sister. You felt your pulse spike with anger. As if it could sense your emotions, the shadow stopped swirling around and instead pressed itself on the floor like it was bashful and guilty.

You scoffed, "Go back to your master! We don't want you here."

The shadow wisped upwards, disappearing through the ceiling. A realization had you clenching your fists. Suri pouted. "Issy, you scared the doggy away!"

"That was not a dog—" you cut yourself off with a sigh. "Suri, go brush your teeth and your hair while I get breakfast ready, okay?"

"No," Suri grumbled, her tiny nose twitching. "Not unless you get doggy back!"

"If you do as I say, I'll make you strawberry pancakes for breakfast."

"Strawb'rry pancakies!" Suri squealed, the shadow momentarily forgotten. Satisfied with your deal, your sister rushed off to get ready. You left her to it, stalking outside through the backdoor. You walked a few paces away from the cabin, staring up at the roof, using a hand to block the rising sun from your eyes.

"I know you're up there!" you shouted. "Don't bother trying to hide!"

Footsteps were heard and then there was Azriel, peering down at you from his perch on your roof. His annoyingly beautiful face was near unreadable, his hair in a bit of disarray like he'd ran his hand through it one too many times. Dark circles were underneath his hazel eyes and those familiar shadows were whirling around him.

"Why are you on my roof?" You snapped, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Good morning, Y/n," Azriel said, his voice low and husky from disuse through the night. "I've been keeping watch. I wanted to make sure none of those males would bother you again."

"I already told you I don't need or want your help, Shadowsinger! Now get the fuck off my roof," you snarled at him. You didn't want him here. You didn't want his stupid shadows near you or Suri either. Besides, since when did he care what happened to you or any other Illyrian females? He had turned his back on his own people the day he ran off to the High Lord's perfect little city, pretending like he wasn't one of you, wasn't Illyrian.

Easy for him. He was a male that could get siphons to use his powers correctly, a male who hadn't been forced down and clipped. He could fly wherever he wanted, go wherever he wanted. He had money and resources you wouldn't even bother dreaming for. Azriel could wipe his hands clean and pretend like he hadn't been born in these mountains and hadn't left anyone behind to suffer when he left.

It was one thing to escape this brutalizing, barbaric way of living. It was another to gain power and influence within the court and not bother to help your own people. Azriel was a traitor and he could go to hell for all you cared.

You hated him for it. Hated him and all of his friends. Hated the High Lord and Lady who did little to help anyone here. Hated the General for leading your father to his death in the war. You hated them all.

Azriel let out a quiet sigh. "I know you don't need my help, but I... I can't just leave knowing those males might come back and hurt you again. I made you a promise and I intend to keep it."

"I don't care about your stupid promises," you bit back. "Get off my roof and go home, Azriel. You're not wanted here."

"I know you hate me and I know we've all let you down," Azriel replied, guilt shimmering in his eyes. "I'm going to do everything I can to make it up to you, Y/n. I promise."

"Again with the promises! Your words mean nothing to me," you grumbled, tossing your hands in the air. "I don't have time for this. You know what? You want to spend all of eternity sitting on my roof, you go ahead! But I would really appreciate it if you would just fuck off!"

You didn't bother waiting for his response, storming back into your house and slamming the door shut behind you.

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

A week went by and Azriel kept watch over you the entire time. Every day you would walk outside and peer up at the roof to see him perched there, oftentimes twirling his dagger in his hand lazily. He'd give you a small smile that looked more like a grimace and you'd roll your eyes and go back inside.

You hated that some part of you did feel better knowing he was there. You knew his reputation and you knew none of the males in this camp would bother you as long as he was there. But it still infuriated you to see his face every morning. To see him shake the snow off his wings. To see him glare down at everyone in your camp like you were all beneath him.

You especially hated how much Suri had come to love his shadows, always chasing them down the hallways of the cabin. You just wanted him gone.

And it seemed like you got your wish two weeks later.

It was nighttime, the house quiet now that you'd coaxed Suri into going to bed. You were getting ready for bed yourself, dressed in a nightgown and putting out the fire when a series of soft knocks caught your attention. You frowned, pausing to look at the door. Who would be coming by at this time? Certainly no one good.

You were debating on ignoring it when a dark shadow whisked its way underneath the door.

"Y/n," Azriel called out. "It's just me."

You rolled your eyes and opened your door, knowing he wouldn't leave until you did so.

"What?" You eyed him, taking in his disheveled appearance. You wondered how he survived spending the night in the snow. Just the small draft that came in from opening the door had you shivering. You hugged yourself, your hair blowing gently in the ice cold breeze.

Azriel seemed at a loss for words for a second, his eyes roaming down your body before he met your gaze. His cheeks turned a bit pink as you raised an eyebrow at him. He swallowed, his throat bobbing with the motion.

"I need to leave for a few days," Azriel finally said. "The High Lord is sending me on a small mission. I...I would feel a lot better if you'd let me take you and your sister somewhere else while I'm gone. I can set the two of you up in a nice inn or tavern in Velaris. Or you could stay at my personal residence. Just for a few days."

You stared at him utterly perplexed. "You're...you're joking, right?"

He shook his head looking dead serious. "No, Y/n, I'm not. I worry what will happen if I'm not here to watch over you. Please, just...just let me help. It might be nice for Suri to take her to Velaris and let her see the city."

"You're out of your mind," you hissed. "I'm not leaving my house and certainly not with you. I already told you I don't need your help."

You went to shut the door but Azriel reached out and grabbed it before you could.

"Please, I just want to help—"

“Azriel, I have survived here on my own for the past two years since my father died in the war,” you growled. “You can't sit on my roof forever. If you truly wanted to fix things, you would've done so centuries ago. So just leave, Azriel. And don't bother coming back."

“I do care,” Azriel pleaded. “Please—”

"I am not leaving," you snapped. "I am not letting those stupid males run me from my own home. I don't know why you even care! And stop with the whole 'I promised you' thing. You don’t even know me!”

He opened his mouth to say something else but you slammed the door shut in his face. You locked the deadbolt before letting out a sigh.

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

Azriel was worried. Worried and scared and angry. Worried that Silas and his goons would bother his mate while he was gone. Scared that they’d hurt her. And angry at just the thought of that. His chest ached as he thought about his mate and her clear hatred towards him. He couldn’t blame her for it. She was right. He had abandoned Illyria a long time ago.

But that needed to change. He needed that to change. Not just for his mate’s sake but for her sister, for Nyx, for all the females and children whose lives were awful because of the males in charge of all their camps.

She had been the wake up call he needed. He had the privilege of being a male in Illyria. He got to keep his wings. Got to work at having a different life then the one he was born into. His mate hadn’t had those opportunities. She was flightless, stuck to the ground and stuck in her miserable camp.

Azriel wanted nothing more than to just grab her and her sister and get them far away from Illyria. To bring them to his apartment in Velaris where he could take care of them, could keep them safe.

But his mate didn’t trust him.

He would do anything to prove himself to her. Prove that he did care for her and all the other Illyrian females. No matter how much hate he was met with, he’d keep crawling back until he earned her forgiveness and a chance to give her a better life.

She deserved that more than anything. Not just because she was his mate but because she had been so strong all these years, standing up to males twice her size and keeping her sister’s wings from being mutilated like hers had been. She didn’t choose to be Illyrian anymore than he did.

And Gods, he wanted her to stop hating him. He wanted her to give him a chance. Just one chance to show her what she truly deserved. He had learned so much about her by just watching her this week and he knew that no other female would come close to capturing his heart and attention the way she had in just that short span of time he’d known her.

Azriel knew he didn’t deserve her or her forgiveness. He knew she was too good for him. Too beautiful, too pure of heart. He could see that just by the way she took care of her sister and the other females in her village, despite the torment it brought her from the males.

He let out a sigh, his eyes still locked on the camp of Autumn Soldiers. He was doing a reconnaissance mission. Beron was up to something again and these soldiers had been spotted on the coast.

It had been two days since he left his mate and so far, nothing had been unknowingly sent down the bond except for her normal moods she fluctuated with during the day.

He just needed to finish this mission and rush back to Velaris to drop off his report to Rhysand before he could get back to her. He normally liked to take his time on his missions but this was quite possibly the first time he ever had a want to get back faster. He was hoping to sneak into the River House and set his report on Rhys's desk without seeing anyone. He'd been ignoring and skipping family dinners for the past week and knew they'd have a lot to say about it.

Azriel faltered as a wave of fear crashed through him. No, not fear. Terror. Unbridled terror and then pain. He sucked in a breath, nearly falling from the tree he was perched in. He was frozen for a second before he realized what was happening---his mate was in danger.

It took him less than a second to decide to abandon the mission and shadow all the way back to the Illyrian mountains. Azriel let out a curse when he stepped out of the shadows in front of his mate's cabin to see it covered in flames. Someone had set it on fire and it was quickly crumbling under the flames. His heart was beating in his chest as he strained his ears to make sure no one was inside.

But then the most heart-stopping, chill inducing sound was heard ringing through the camp.

His mate's screams.

He sprinted towards the sound, his boots pounding against the cold hard ground. It led him to the town center where a crowd had formed, males hollering and shouting encouragement at whatever was happening.

Azriel pushed his way through the crowd, shoving aside male after male until he reached the front. His heart dropped in his stomach as he beheld what was happening before him.

His mate on her knees, holding up the tatters of her shirt to maintain her dignity. Silas standing behind with a whip in hand, raising it in the air again. Blood all over the white snow around his mate, staining it red. Tear streaks running down his mate's face, her beautiful face pale and twisted in pain. One of Silas's commanders holding a crying and screaming Suri, her tiny fists pounding on his chest.

Azriel wished he knew what happened next. Wished he had this memory to look back on whenever he remembered the rage he felt. But one second he was standing there staring at his mate in horror and the next second, he was surrounded by dead bodies with Truth-teller in his hand dripping with blood. The camp had fallen silent and his ears were ringing, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths.

Suri had been dropped in the chaos and had rushed towards her sister, throwing her small arms around her neck as she sobbed.

And his mate.

His beautiful mate was staring right at him, eyes wide from witnessing the carnage he had just unleashed in this camp. Silas laid dead behind her, his shadows still ravaging his body. Slit throats, broken necks on all the other males that laid dead at his feet. But his mate was looking at him.

Azriel took a step towards her, watching her carefully as she weakly wrapped an arm around her sister's body while her eyes never left his. And he knew the mating bond had just snapped for her, could see the realization in her eyes.

"N-no," she stammered out, her voice cracking. "No. Not you. Not...Not you! Anyone but you!"

Azriel could feel her dread pouring down the bond amidst the pain and terror she felt. He felt his heart crack in his chest, heard his shadows wailing as they too felt her pain and sorrow.

But his broken heart at finding his mate and hearing that she didn't want him was not important in this moment. Not as his mate's eyes rolled to the back of her head and she slumped to the ground.

Azriel rushed forward, scooping both his unconscious mate in his arms and her crying sister before disappearing in a whirl of screaming shadows.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #illyrian #illyrians

580 notes · View notes

shadowdaddies · 6 months

Note

Omgomg-

Can you do an Az x Summer Court reader with soft, white, feathered wings where she's like cleaning her feathers(a very intimate act) and Az walks in, there's some flustered blushing and whatnot, and then he offers to help and they clean their wings together??

OMG this is so cute I'm cryin 😭 I had so much fun with this, you're the best and ily thank you for the request angel!!!💜

Wings of Desire

Azriel x Reader

Sent on mission by Tarquin to work with the Night Court on joining your armies with the Illyrians, Rhysand had allowed you to visit the camps with his spymaster. After a long day of observing training, the both of you flew to where you would be staying while in Illyria. You followed Azriel, landing in front of a small cabin on the far northern border of Prythian. You weren’t even sure if you were still on the continent anymore, shivering at the cold unlike that which you’d ever experienced.

Born in the Summer Court, the heavy snow during Night Court winters was unfamiliar to you, and made flying difficult. Unlike the Illyrians’ wings, which were bare and ideal for flight in freezing temperatures, the delicate feathers of your bone white wings abhorred the cold.

The stiffness in your wings spread throughout your body, teeth chattering as you forced your legs through the snow to the open door Azriel held for you, an amused smile playing on his lips. Cauldron, those beautiful lips. Your eyes trailed from those lips, down his body as the spymaster heaved in breaths. You were glad to see you weren’t the only one tired from the flight.

As soon as you made it through the doorway, heat seeped into you, a deep comfort settling over your bones. You turned to Azriel, that same smile tugging at his mouth as he seemingly read your thoughts. “Magic. Rhys keeps the place a comfortable temperature, so it’s warm even in the winter.” Enchanted by the unexpected comforts of the cozy cabin, you walked into the kitchen area, taking in the surroundings.

All of the walls of the cabin were painted, five sets of eyes lining the hallway at the top of the stairs. You scowled at the silvery eyes that seemed to follow you, wings twitching behind you at the uncomfortable feeling, until you reached a familiar set of hazel eyes at the end. A soft smile graced your features, suddenly feeling safe under the watchful eye of Azriel.

You turned to question the spymaster about the artwork when a cup of hot chocolate appeared on the counter in front of you. Gasping, you jumped back and collided with the shadowsinger. A rare, soft laugh escaped his lips, and you felt as though you might melt at the sound. Scarred hands gently grabbed your arms, helping stand you upright as he leaned over you and grabbed the cup to place in your hands. “The cabin is sentient, so it will supply you with whatever you ask, within reason. Or whatever it thinks you need... In this case, hot chocolate.”

You blushed, taking a sip of the warm drink and moaned at the rich taste. Azriel’s eyes were dark as he watched you lick the chocolate from your lips, the spymaster clearing his throat as he quickly looked away from you. Your wings shuddered at his attention, and a wince left you at the movement of the sore muscles beneath.

Shadows curled around Azriel’s own wings, smokey wisps circling his ear as he studied your feathers. “The house will run a bath for you, so you can clean and warm your wings if you wish. Second door on the left.” Almost too distracted by the alluring darkness swirling in front of you, it took a moment to register what Azriel was saying. “Oh, yes. Thank you, Az,” you murmured, setting down the cup as you turned to make your way upstairs for a much needed bath.

Entering the room, you found a spacious bed - something unusual in your court, as most there did not have wings. But you supposed it was a necessity with the large Illyrians who often stayed here - Azriel in particular had the largest set of wings you had seen on anyone.

Stripping down, you padded into the bathroom where dim faelights lit the area. A bath was already filled, lavender aromas drifting from the steamy waters of the tub. You giggled, feeling gleeful as you skipped over to the tub and sank beneath the surface. You let out a quiet moan at the feeling, your tired muscles finally rewarded after a long day.

You looked around the tub, searching for anything to use to clean your wings. Because they were feathers, you had to use a long handle to brush between them when you bathed. As Illyrians had bare wings, you should have assumed that they would not have such difficulty washing their own wings. You huffed out a frustrated breath, attempting to reach over your shoulder in awkward angles to find the remaining dirt and snow that had worked its way in your wings.

A knock sounded on the bathroom door, Azriel calling out to you. “Hey, I felt a tu- I felt like you might need something. Is everything okay in there?” Your eyes welled with frustrated tears, humiliated that the Night Court spymaster should find you like this. “Everything is fine, Az. I’ll be okay.” You choked on the last word, and Azriel swore under his breath as he kicked the door open.

“Something is wrong. Please tell me how I can help, or I won’t be able to sleep,” he said, looking everywhere around the room except at you. A small laugh escaped you at his attempt at chivalry. “You can look at me, Az. I’m not shy. I just can’t reach the dirt on my wings.” A sniffle sounded through the air as you looked at the shadowsinger, whose gaze was only fixed on your dirty, crumpled wings as you trembled in the tub. He swallowed, more nervous than you had ever seen him as Azriel whispered, “I can help you. If- if that is okay.”

You nodded without hesitation. The social taboos of how intimate touching wings was didn’t matter to you in that moment, as you were desperate for Azriel’s healing touch. The shadowsinger nodded, moving behind the tub as he awkwardly reached towards your wings. “Um, how should I-?”

You turned around, unable to stop your laughter at the Night Court’s spymaster hunched over the edge of a bathtub. “You can get in, Azriel. No offense, but you could use a bath too,” you teased, wrinkling your nose for dramatic effect. He scoffed, his weight shifting between his feet as he considered. “Okay,” Az murmured, looking at you to turn around before he undressed.

You rolled your eyes at the nearly six hundred year old male’s shyness, but turned around anyway, scooting towards the other end of the tub to make room for him. You silently marveled at how large the bathtub was as well, another luxury you were not used to. Your thoughts were interrupted by the water moving as Azriel silently entered the bath.

Clearing his throat, he asked, “so, how is the best way to wash them?” You smiled to yourself before handing him a rag. “Just anywhere that you see dirt, if you could use the washcloth or your hands - whatever is easiest - to wipe it away. It usually gets stuck higher up and between feathers.”

You heard his deep inhale from behind as he brought the washcloth over your wings, biting your lip to keep from moaning at the feeling. After awhile of Azriel using the washcloth, he whispered in a shaky voice, “I think I need to use my hands to get the rest.” You nodded your consent, peeking over your shoulder to see the focused male with his brow furrowed as he lathered soap on his scarred hands. This time when his hands made contact with your wings, you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped you.

He pulled back quickly, eyes and shadows wildly searching for any sign of harm. “Are you okay? I’m so sor-“ You cut him off with a breathy laugh. “No, Az, it’s fine. They’re just... sensitive. I’m not hurt.” You promised, looking into those hazel eyes as you swore to him. Azriel nodded, continuing his work with even softer care now, you biting your li until it bled to keep your moans from frightening him away.

“Okay, they’re looking beautiful and pristine as ever,” Azriel announced after awhile, one finger skirting the outside of your right wing as he spoke. You huffed a thank you, both relieved and heartbroken that it was over, when it dawned on you. “Do... you need help with your wings, Azriel?”

It was quiet for a moment, the question weighing heavy in the air before Azriel responded, “yes, I would greatly appreciate that.” The both of you turned around, his broad wings on display for you in the tub as he now faced the other edge. You gently washed his wings - admittedly much easier and faster than your own. He was silent the whole time - except for when you brushed a large vein on his left wing - one groan sounding from him that you kindly ignored. It was an unspoken understanding that neither of you would admit, that Azriel did not need help washing his wings. But something in your chest called you to him, to care for him in the most intimate of ways.

While you dragged it out for as long as you could, the bathwater eventually grew colder and Azriel’s wings could not be much cleaner. The two of you accepted that the moment was over, exiting the bath as you donned your towels. Azriel picked up his leathers, slowly making his way towards the door when you blurted out, “stop.”

He slowly turned, eyeing you cautiously while you scrambled to find a reason for him to stay. “I - um, I don’t know the area as well as you, obviously... Would you mind staying in here tonight? The bed has plenty of room.” With a deep breath, you admitted, “I would feel safer with you.” Azriel smiled at you, a glowing feeling tugging in your chest at the sight as he made his way towards your bed, settling under the covers.

Part 2 | Part 3

997 notes · View notes

sky-is-the-limit · 3 months

Text

Meddle About (Part 1)

P: Captain Price x F!Reader

Summary: You meet a handsome stranger at a pub and begin a beautiful friendship. Though you start developing feelings for the older man, he doesn't seem to reciprocate. That is, until you flirt with someone else to test the waters.

NSFW part 2 here.

WC: 2.3k words

CW: Nothing other than some angst (light), age difference and jealousy.

Notes: The age of the Reader is mentioned only because I feel uncomfortable writing about an age difference where X person is under the age of 23-25.

@glitterypirateduck

You stumbled into the pub, your heart heavy and your mind clouded with the weight of your breakup. The air was thick with the aroma of alcohol and the sound of muted conversations. You sought solace in the dimly lit corner, choosing a table far from prying eyes, hoping to drown your sorrows alone.

As you sat there, lost in your own misery, your gaze wandered aimlessly to the booth next to yours until it landed on him, the older man sitting alone, his presence almost ghostly in the shadows. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, drinking a glass of whiskey with a distant look in his eyes.

At first, you paid him no mind, too consumed by your own despair to acknowledge anyone else's existence. But then, just as the ache in your chest threatened to overwhelm you completely, a notification on your phone pushed you over the edge. It was a message from your ex, a cruel reminder to pick up your things from his apartment.

With a choked sob, you buried your face in your hands, tears streaming down your cheeks to the thought. And then, as if sensing your despair, the older man's voice cut through the haze of your misery.

"Are you alright, love?" He asked, his words gentle and filled with genuine concern.

Startled, you lifted your head to look at him, your vision blurred by tears. His face came into focus, and you found yourself momentarily captivated by the sight of blue eyes, the ruggedness of his features softened by a hint of kindness. He extended a napkin towards you, a silent offering to wipe away your tears.

For a moment, you hesitated, unsure of whether to trust this stranger even with such an innocent gesture. But something in his demeanor, the warmth in his gaze, made you lower your defenses.

And so, with a shaky breath, you accepted, allowing the soft material to soak up whatever was left of your relationship.

As the night dragged on, the heaviness in your heart began to ease, replaced by a sense of relief as you found comfort in conversation with the stranger. He didn't speak much, but his attentive listening spoke volumes.

You found yourself pouring out your heart to him, recounting the details of your breakup, the betrayal, the lies, the countless nights spent crying yourself to sleep, wondering what you had done to deserve such treatment.

Were you ruining his night out? Was he growing tired of your rambling? Was he secretly wishing for an escape from your company?

Your overthinking vanished every time you looked into his eyes, finding nothing but genuine interest and compassion staring back at you.

The hours slipped away and the pub grew quieter, you realized that this stranger had become more than just a sympathetic ear. And though you couldn't quite put it into words, you knew that his presence had brought you a sense of peace that you hadn't felt in a long time.

As the night progressed, you learned that he was a military man, a Captain stationed at a base just twenty minutes away. His hesitance to get into the specifics of his job only added to the air of mystery surrounding him but you respected his boundaries, content to learn other parts of his personality. It wasn't like you'd understand much of the military life anyway.

In between sips of beer, you discovered common ground in unexpected places. He spoke passionately about his love for football, declaring his support to Liverpool with pride and that sparked playful banter between the two of you, given your loyalty to Manchester United. And then there was his love for 70s rock music, a good old Sunday roast and his German Shepherd named Bucky.

Everything he uttered seemed to captivate you. But it wasn't just his words that kept you staring in awe. It was the way he carried himself, the undeniable aura of strength and confidence that followed him.

His strong, masculine features were impossible to ignore. The full beard that hugged his face and trailed down to his neck, the small charming beauty mark on his nose, his ocean blue shaded eyes.. There was no force im the world that could tear your gaze away from him.

Despite being seated, he seemed to tower over most in the room, his tall frame accentuated by his broad shoulders and defined physique with thighs barely fitting under the table.

Each time your eyes met, you felt a rush of excitement, a flutter in your chest that you couldn't quite explain.

He definitely noticed, there was no doubt about it. You caught him watching you, a slight smirk playing at the corner of his lips but he never made a point of it. It was as if he welcomed your attention, basking in the way you were taking him in yet never crossing the line between polite conversation and flirting.

Around two after midnight, the pub began to empty out, leaving only you and the interesting stranger as the sole costumers.

Stepping outside, the chill of the rain hit you both, shimmering under the moonlight as it landed on the darkened street below and he wasted no time in offering you his coat.

You protested but he insisted, draping it over your head as you both dashed towards your car. The rain poured down relentlessly, soaking him through and yet he seemed unaffected, almost as if he enjoyed the feeling of the water against his skin or perhaps in a way to make the night last a little bit longer.

As you turned the ignition, a sudden realization struck you. In the midst of the conversation, you had forgotten the most basic of exchanges. Names.

"Hey!" You called out over the drumming rain, "I never asked for your name."

"John Price." Came his simple reply, accompanied by a a small smile.

You reciprocated with your own name, something so simple suddenly feeling intimate, important. After saying your goodnights, you closed the door and began to drive away, the rain beginning to taper off.

But then, a nagging thought tugged at your brain. His coat still laid draped over your shoulders. Without giving it a second thought, you turned the car around and rolled down the window, calling out into the night.

"Hey, John! I still have your coat!"

He turned, his silhouette illuminated by the fading streetlights, and yelled back, "Bring it back here tomorrow, same time."

With a smile tugging at your lips, you nodded in agreement. That night, as you drifted off to sleep, the thoughts of your recent breakup seemed distant and insignificant. Instead, your mind was filled with the memory of the handsome Captain and the promise of tomorrow.

/////

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, your meetings with John at the pub became a tradition. Every Wednesday and Saturday, like clockwork, you would find yourselves drawn back to that familiar corner booth, where the outside world faded away and it was just the two of you, lost in conversation.

Your advances were subtle yet unmistakable, a brush of your hand against his, a playful flirtation laced with innuendo. And though John never shut you down, his demeanor remained restrained, as if he was holding himself back from crossing an invisible boundary.

He never pushed for more, never crossed the line into something deeper, leaving you to wonder if the attraction was one sided.

It was both frustrating and endearing at first, what had started as a playful game of cat and mouse had morphed into something deeper, more profound and the anticipation of seeing him, of sharing those precious hours together, became the highlight of your week.

You found yourself drawn to him in ways you couldn't fully comprehend. It was borderline obsessive how you tended to every detail, choosing the perfect outfit and spending hours grooming yourself to ensure you looked your best for him.

While his eyes traced the curves of your body with hunger, his hands always remained glued at his sides. Always a good conversation, a walk to your car and a goodnight to leave you awake at night, going through every scenario possible.

It was maddening, the way he welcomed your touches and flirtatious banter without ever making a move of his own.

Perhaps, if he was to turn you down outright, to reject your advances and put an end to the torture, it would be easier to accept. You could move on, content in the knowledge that you had tried and failed. But John never did that.

And so, that particular night, you swore, it would be different.

////

Another Saturday night unfolded and you found yourself once again nestled in the comfort of your favorite booth at the pub, opposite of John.

Dressed in figure hugging black dress that accentuated every curve, you couldn't help but feel confident and ready for what you were about to do. The neckline dipped low, offering a glimpse of your cleavage while the bold red lipstick painted your intentions clear for all to see.

Taking a moment to gather your courage, you lifted your glass to your lips, the sweet aroma of your fruity cocktail easing your nerves. After taking a sip, with a playful smile, you turned to John, nudging the glass towards him.

"Wanna try my drink?" You asked, your voice laced with a hint of playfulness.

You knew all too well that John was a man of simple tastes, his preference for whiskey never changing. Your intentions weren't supposed to change that, anyway.

John's gaze lingered on the glass for a few seconds and returned to yours, a small smile playing at his lips.

''I don't think I'm gonna enjoy drinking that one, love.'' He replied with a chuckle as he took another sip of his usual choice.

That was your moment.

With a coy smile, you took another sip from your cocktail, savoring the fruity sweetness that danced on your tongue and then, with a boldness you hadn't known you possessed, you placed your hand on John's thigh, the touch of your fingertips freezing him into place.

"You don't have to drink it to enjoy the taste." You replied, your words dripping with innuendo whilst you took in his unusually tensed reaction.

Without waiting for John's response, you leaned in, the anticipation coursing through your veins like wildfire.

Your heart pounded loudly against your chest as you pressed your lips against his, the taste of whiskey and strawberries mingling together the more you took his bottom lip between your own. There was a hesitance in the way your mouth moved, your tongue grazing his own as you awaited for him to deepen it.

Feeling the warmth of John's palms resting on your shoulders, you couldn't help but anticipate his next move, to reciprocate the kiss and finally make you his.

But to your surprise, instead of drawing you closer, John gently pushed you back, disconnecting your lips with a tender touch that almost felt like betrayal. His eyes remained closed, his expression unreadable as if he was still lingering on the taste of your kiss, contemplating what he was about to do next.

Feeling the weight of John's eyes piercing through you, you couldn't bring yourself to meet them, the sting of embarrassment and disappointment burning hot against your cheeks.

You felt exposed, vulnerable in a way you had never felt before. As his hands left your shoulders and came to rest on the table, you could sense the tension in the air, thick and suffocating.

And then, finally, his voice broke the silence, "Y/N, I can't." He said, his tone filled with a mixture of pity and regret.

"Even if I want-" He started to say, but then abruptly stopped, as if his own thoughts had betrayed him.

You wanted to scream, to cry out in frustration and anger, but all you could do was sit there, confused and curious to the thought of him finishing that sentence.

Summoning every ounce of courage you had, you took in a deep breath and with trembling hands, you finally raised your face to look at him.

All you managed, was a one word question coming out as a barely audible whisper, ''Why?''

His hesitation, his struggle to articulate his thoughts only grated against your nerves but you sat there patient, waiting for him to state a good enough reason that would match with his last sentence.

"You're so young and I-" John began but his words only added to your ticking bomb. His excuse felt like a slap in the face, and before he could finish, you cut him off, your voice dripping with disbelief.

"Young? Is that it?!" You exclaimed, the anger in your voice palpable. "I'm 25 for fuck's sake!"

In that moment, what he said, the implication of his excuse became painfully clear. It wasn't about age. It was about fear, about his own insecurities. But you refused to be dismissed so easily.

"Younger, then." He persisted, correcting himself, his tone tinged with frustration. "You should be out there flirting with guys your own age, not messed up middle-aged men that you meet at a shady pub."

How dare he, you thought, how dare he belittle your choices, your feelings like that?

Your eyes widened in disbelief at what he was saying, the anger bubbling up inside you threatening to boil over. How could he be so blind, so oblivious to the depth of your feelings?

"Guys my age, huh?!" You retorted sarcastically, raising the volume of your voice just enough to make him look back into your eyes.

But instead of backing down, John simply nodded to your question. And then, as if to salt to your wound, his eyes trailed around the pub, landing on two young guys ordering a drink at the bar.

"Someone like him, not me.'' His tone devoid of self-pity or insecurity.

It was as if he was protecting you, shielding you from the potential pain that could come from being with someone like him.

His words only added more fuel to your fire that was threatening to consume you whole and so you stood up from your seat, straightening your dress with a determined flick of your wrist. Every fiber of your being screamed with frustration, but you refused to let it win.

"You know what, maybe you are right." You said to John, your voice tinged with bitterness.

Trailing your gaze towards the blonde guy at the bar, who seemed more interested in his reflection on his front camera than anything else, you saw an opportunity.

With a calculated move, you turned back to John, his eyes awaiting your next move. With a forced smile, you continued, "Maybe I should take my chances with a younger guy."

Without another word, you turned on your heel, grabbing your purse and made your way towards the bar. As you approached the blonde guy, you could feel John's eyes boring into your back but you tried your hardest not to take a peak.

Instead you sat down next to the new stranger, who finally put his phone down and turned his attention towards you, giving you a warm smile before introducing himself with a simple, ''Hey.''

Glancing back at John for a brief moment, you noticed an unfamiliar look in his eyes. A mixture of possessiveness and jealousy that sent shivers down your spine.

With his jaw clenched and posture tense, John seemed poised to stand up. But you refused to let his sudden change dictate your actions and so maintaining the same fake smile as before, you turned back to the blonde guy.

"Hey, there." You replied, your tone light and casual as you greeted him back.

It was time for you to finally be the cat and it was only a matter of seconds before the mouse came running back to your claws.

#self insert with that Manchester United line sorry guys 🙏#captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain price x female reader #captain price smut #captain price angst #cod #call of duty #cod x reader #task force 141 #141 x reader #john price #captain john price #ocaptainchallenge

924 notes · View notes

itstheghostofmypast · 1 month

Text

Big Spoon

Non-Idol Choi San x (F)Reader

Summary: Who knew he'd wake up bleary-eyed to find her a mess, one that was out of her control and his - or so he thought.

Genre: Fluffish

Warnings: None (just mentions of sad puppies)

Word Count: 1.3 k

Est.Read Time: 10 min

Rating: PG-13

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @san-network

Banner: @cafekitsune

"What are you doing?" He sat up, squinting at his lover who was sitting with her headphones on, blasting God knows what at 2 am. Good lord, no wonder the bed seemed so lonely and-

"Why are you awake?" She snapped at him, causing him to flinch, his little pout and amusing bed hair had her mentally scolding herself for the outburst, he was sitting there half asleep, half awake, though completely ready to get to the bottom of this mystery. She took a deep breath before biting her lip and mumbling, "S-sorry, I didn't mean to sound mean, client called and Hongjoong needed more photos so I uh...got up to do it now so I won't have to do it later- just because that lady's rich. " Turning the chair to face him she winced slightly, hoping he wouldn't notice it, though how would it be Choi San if he didn't?

"What's wrong?" He asked pushing the covers off as he sat at the edge of the bed, feet planted on the cold floor. The moment of clarity allowed him to notice the small hot water bottle on her lap, and the cup of green tea in front of her beside a giant flask and a tissue box- "Were you crying?" He cooed, getting up to go closer only for her to whine and roll her chair back, keeping her distance.

"Hey, come on." He pouted before jumping at her causing her to gasp, only to realise he had held onto the armrests of her chair, locking her in place, "What happened?"

"I-it...nothing." She mumbled, averting her gaze, in no real mood for anything at the moment, she just wanted to finish editing these photos and- "Does it hurt here?" He asked, gently placing his palm against her belly, causing her to whine and try to push it away, only for him to shake his head and remove his hand, instead using it to cup her cheek, "Let me guess, you got the call, they asked you for something that makes no sense, and shark week hit mid brooding session?"

Her eyes widened by the end of his little monologue, as she nodded, staring at him in awe like a little girl who had just met a fairy, well, he was a fairy, a rather feline-looking fairy she could call her own. Elegant, yet endearing, soft and warm yet as solid as a rock, smart yet, just a little dumb- either way, he was her pretty, cute, little fairy- though if he heard this analogy he'd probably be throwing a fit for days, claiming he was anything BUT A FAIRY- he was, as he'd like to call himself and his bros (minus Wooyoung because frankly she had realised he was the only sensible one in the lot) A KING!

"How did you know?" Her lips quirked upwards when he leaned closer to place a soft kiss atop her head, a gesture that would oddly make her all putty in his hands.

"Because I'm the world's best boyfriend." His voice boomed across the quiet room causing her to cover her ears due to heightened sensitivity, before frowning up at him

"The world's best boyfriend missed one thing though."

His shoulders deflated at the statement, and he flopped backwards on the bed dramatically, his back landing with a loud huff, "And what is that?"

"I was crying cause- " her breath hitched as the memories resurfaced, "Some dogs go through depression and this puppy did too- I was watching the video and it was so sad...Sannie" she whined, calling him out for God knows but the flashing images of the puppy and the stupid client's appeal just bothered her even more, the cherry on top was the excruciating pain that was a constant reminder of how the world is too cruel to women.

Not a moment later she was gently pulled out of her chair, engulfed in a warm embrace as his familiar scent enveloped her senses, work left behind, as she felt the soft, warm pillow- nope that was his arm, "My head's heavy," with a small mumble she tried to move, but he clicked his tongue and pulled her closer, resting his chin on her head, "And my heart is heavy....my poor baby is in so much physical and emotional pain and I can't do anything about it-"

"We're never getting a puppy."

"I- um...okay?" He mused, giving her a gentle squeeze, of course, that one video of the sad puppies would make her come up with this verdict, possibly fuelled by her hormones. Making her laugh right now probably wasn't the easiest task, which is why he resorted to asking her the real question, though gentle toned and carefully curated, using his other hand to rub soothing circles on her back as he approached the topic, "I thought you sent the client all they asked for, did they want something out of the contract?"

With a loud huff she began, only to pause for a moment when another cramp hit, her fingers gripping his shirt as she took a deep breath before speaking (venting), "Apparently some of the guests, who refused to take solos then, now want their solo pics because the others who did get their solos taken got good results- like flattery will get you nowhere, I can't pull out your solo pics from my as-ah shit, " she hissed, trying to move, "I need my heating pad." He was quicker than her, jumping over her, letting out a hearty laugh when he heard her squeak and let out a few vulgar words. As quick and agile as a cat he hopped back on the bed, turning her on her back as he placed it on her lower belly, "There, all better?"

Nodding she placed her hands on the pad, pressing it against her skin before sighing, continuing, "Anyway, someone was like oh can you like crop us out and put us somewhere to turn it into our logo- you mean cut you out and paste the image, spend time blending, shading, fixing the highlights- no, because its not in the contract and I'm not being paid more for this."

"I...wow..." he mumbled, running his fingers through her hair soothingly as he sat beside her, looking down at her only to notice her trembling power lip and glossy eyes, "What's...wrong...baby, you don't have to do anything that wasn't under your contract." He hummed, tracing his fingertips over the slightly warmer skin of her forehead absentmindedly, "You want me to talk to -"

"That puppy was so sad, he looked like he wanted to cry and..." Turning to her side, as she closed her eyes, the rush of emotions getting a bit to strong, the tears leaking through her clenched eyes, hugging herself. This was stupid, she had ruined his sleep, woke him up in the middle of the night, snapped at him, told him stories that were irrelevant and then ended up crying about a video on puppies.

"I like being the big spoon."

Oh- that's why she felt so warm, and-

"How is laying on top of me the bigger spoon, you're crushing me."

"I'm protecting you from the bad vibes. Told you Hongjoong as a boss sucks, man's a capitalist monster."

With a sigh she relaxed in his hold, the added weight actually helping with the pain, both, physical and psychological.

"To sleep, you should stop thinking, leave your worries, for tomorrow's you." He sighed, giving her another squeeze, though he didn't recieve any response to his wise words, he could get them printed, "You asleep?" He whispered peeking over her shoulder only to smile, two hours, they'd been awake for two hours, listening to God knows what she was going through, biological and induced. Either way, he was glad that she had the world's best boyfriend, he'd probably boast about this tomorrow to her, when she's in a better mood, when she's well rested and probably complaining once again, about how Hongjoong finding the dumbest, but richest clients. Need not worry, she'd always have someone loyal, sincere and the best big spoon out there- all her's.

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @the-kpop-simp @mlysalt @spooo00oky

549 notes · View notes

bogleech · 10 months

Note

Many parasites takeover the minds and bodies of insects, spiders or other creatures, making them like zombies. You’ve listed some in spider-ween and other places. Do you know any parasites that take over bees? I know wasps lay their eggs in their larva, but haven’t really found anything about those that pilot a bee’s body.

Strepsipterans! Also frequently just called "Stylops"

These are the weirdest most alien insect group in existence. What you're seeing are the head ends of the mature females; their bodies are just bags of tissue that absorb nutrients from the host, so they no longer have any trace of limbs or wings and their flat little heads no longer have mouths or eyes.

The only reason the female's heads stick out of the host at all is because the head evolved into the end they mate with. The short-lived mature male is a very tiny flying thing (whose anatomy is unlike any other insect alive today - a totally unique type of wing, unique eye arrangement, we have NO idea what these evolved from, except for some loose connections to beetles!) who mates by breaking through the female's featureless armored face with his bladed genitalia and then he dies. And Strepsiptera can be found infecting all sorts of arthropods, even apparently some arachnids, but none of those arthropods really tend to sit still when a little tiny flying man tries to land on them, so the females usually do something to their hosts (we aren't sure what exactly) to make them slower and more complacent. Social Hymenoptera like bees are especially common hosts though, and when a worker bee or wasp is infected by stylops, she actually abandons her colony and her duties for extended periods of time to just perch in one place while the parasite broadcasts its mating pheromones. This is especially eerie from the bee's perspective; a worker bee is a female bee that wasn't allowed to become a queen and isn't "supposed" to be going around mating, but now she's sitting around waiting for a male just like any other bug that wants to be a mom. It's just not a male of her species and she's not the one who gets to reproduce. Is the parasite tapping into buried queen behavior? Does the bee's little brain think it's calling for a drone to help it start a new hive? Or does the parasite just make the bee a lazy slob who stops caring about her hive and just feels like chilling out on a flower all day? We might never know.

Here are those unique eyes of the male for anyone wondering. Not set in a fine multifaceted grid like in other insects, but clustered, still set in their own individual "sockets" like we see in much more ancient arthropods like trilobites! This suggests that Strepsipteran eyes date back to when insects were first beginning to evolve towards true compound eyes, but there still aren't many insects in the fossil record that have anything else in common with these animals. EDIT: oh yeah I forgot to include that these are in the children's book made by @revretch and I!

I did the rough pencil sketch of this page while Rev did the beautiful inks! I felt kids should know about these animals but I tried to explain it in the most kid-friendly way possible.

#biology #parasites #insects

2K notes · View notes

cevansbrat0007 · 2 months

Text

Sugar Fix

Summary: Your poor attempt at a joke lands you in hot water with your man. Takes place directly after the events in Sweet Tooth and Sweet Tooth Deluxe.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, Discussions of Poor Body Image, Arguing, Manhandling, Mentions of Punishment, Spanking, Pussy Spanking, Spanking, Oral Sex (fem rec), Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Written for @writer84. Part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

“God, that was good.” You lean back in your seat, lazily stretching your arms over your head. Your man smiles as he dutifully picks up your plate before briefly giving into temptation long enough to press a tender kiss against your lips.

“Mm.” Ari hums low in his throat as he repeats the action once more. “Glad you enjoyed it, baby. Still find it hard to believe that you’d never had chocolate chip pancakes before today.”

“Hey! You promised you wouldn’t make fun of me.” You pout, reaching out to swat his perfectly sculpted ass, which was now unfortunately hiding beneath a pair of black sweatpants. At least he’d forgotten to put on a shirt.

Mostly because you were wearing it.

“And I’m not.” Your man chuckles while adding your dishes to the growing pile in your sink. “I’d never do something so foolish. Especially since we only just made up.” He tosses a wink at you over his shoulder.

Yeah, and that was mostly your fault.

“I am really sorry about that.” You murmur, feeling a twinge of regret over having subjected your man to several days of the silent treatment. “I should’ve talked to you about that whole business with Charline.”

“Water under the bridge, baby.”

Resting your chin on your hand, you watch as your bounty hunter busies himself with filling the sink with hot water and dish soap. Some days it still floored you that you were seeing a man who didn’t put up a fuss about cooking. Or cleaning for that matter.

“I just meant that I’m in no hurry to have you toss me out on my ass again just yet.” He continues while sudsing up one of the new sponges you’d left laying on the counter. “That’s all I was saying, little Bird.”

“Well that wouldn’t be very hospitable of me, now would it?” You’re quick to counter, allowing your gaze to drop to your bare knees. “Seeing as you were kind enough to break into my home and cook me breakfast.”

“I had a key.” He snorts dismissively.

“Yeah, one that you stole!” You fire back, doing your best to hide your grin. “From me!”

“What the hell does any of that matter if you were already gonna–” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head before deciding to change tactics. “Look sweetheart, if you wanna argue about semantics can you at least wait until we’re both naked?”

“I guess so.” Comes your breezy reply as you fiddle with the hem of Ari’s t-shirt. Granted the fit was much too big for you, but it didn’t change the fact that you loved how wearing it made you feel. There really was something to be said for being surrounded by the heady scent of your man.

“Thank you.” Ari grunts before returning his attention to the stack of dishes in need of a good scrub. “Did you have enough to eat? Can’t have you wastin’ away on me.”

“Sure did.” You beam at him, content to sit back and enjoy the view. No man should be allowed to look that flippin’ sexy while doing simple household chores.

“Good.”

“To be honest, I didn’t even realize I was that hungry until I took that first bite. I suppose that’s what I get for not really eating…” You trail off when Ari turns toward you, his piercing blue eyes locking with yours. “...much over the last couple days.”

Your pulse speeds up as you watch your Bounty Hunter brace his still-wet hands on the edge of the counter. Which is when you belatedly realize that you probably should’ve kept that tidbit of information to yourself.

“Little Bird?”

“Yes, sugar?” You can’t help but wince at the way he says your name. Even still, you decide to stand up, hoping to distract him from the direction his thoughts were taking. “Want some help drying those plates? Because I don’t mind–”

“When was the last time you ate something?” He cocks his head to the side, almost like he’s studying you while he waits for your answer. “And before you get cute on me, baby, I’m talkin’ about before today.”

You can feel yourself physically wilt as you weigh your options. While you tended to believe that honesty was the best policy, sometimes being too honest had the tendency to get you in trouble with your man.

“I had some toast the other–”

“A full meal.” Ari swiftly interrupts, clearly not in the mood to mince words.

“Well, if you really must know…” Crossing your arms over your chest, you prepare to stand your ground. “I haven’t found myself with much of an appetite lately.” You sniff, ignoring the way his nostrils flare. “Probably on account of our tiff.”

Okay, now that was absolutely true. Because whether this man realized it or not, he had a knack for always making sure you ate at least one proper meal before the day’s end. With him out of the picture, you hadn’t really had any desire to eat.

Instead of responding, Ari turns to stare out the window, quietly sucking on his teeth as he does. You knew without asking that he was working to rein in his temper before he spoke again, lest he say the wrong thing and start another fight.

“C’mon Beast, it’s really not a big deal.” You shrug, biting your thumb as will him to cast a glance your way. “Besides, I’m pretty sure these hips could stand to miss a meal or two.”

While it was certainly a poor attempt at levity, you felt that one of you had to do something to lighten the mood. You startle when Ari suddenly throws down the sponge into the sink, sending water splashing everywhere.

You watch him slowly dry his hands with a nearby towel before tossing it aside in favor of bridging the distance between you. Good sense and the need for self-preservation has you backing up; however, you scarcely make it two steps before you feel your butt collide with your kitchen table. But your bounty hunter doesn’t stop moving until he’s standing directly in front of you.

“What was that?” He asks without an ounce of friendliness in his tone. In fact, his question comes out sounding more like a dare than anything else. “I reckon I’m a little hard of hearing these days.”

Later, you would kick yourself for taking the bait.

“Ahem.” Clearing your throat, you can’t help but notice the clench of his jaw. “I said that these hips – my hips – could probably stand to miss a meal.” You repeat, giving him your best prim and proper tone.

Sometimes the facts weren’t up for discussion.

Moving with a speed that belies his size, Ari manages to wrap one brawny arm around your waist before using his considerable strength to pin you face down against the kitchen table. Shocked by this sudden mistreatment, you open your mouth fully prepared to protest, only to snap it shut the moment you feel a cool breeze ghost across your bare backside.

“Try again, sweetheart.” The lawman grunts before delivering a hearty smack to your ass, eliciting a rather undignified screech from you. “Oh? I’m afraid I still didn’t quite catch that.”

“There’s no need to act like a brute!” You cry as you struggle against his impossible hold. “It’s not right for you to–ahh fuck!” You damn near lose it when his heavy palm connects with your traitorous cunt, the sound of the wet slap echoing throughout the room.

In that very moment, that sweet bite of pain had never felt so good.

“Ah, sweetness.” Ari coos, a hint of mocking laughter curling around his tone. “Could’ve sworn I’d fucked some sense into you earlier this morning. Are you tellin’ me my work still isn’t done?”

You think back to something he’d said when he was busy fucking you senseless. He’d said, or snarled as it were, that you needed a Sir or a Daddy to help keep you in line. At the time you’d assumed that he’d simply got caught up in the heat of the moment. But now…

Apparently it takes you too long to answer because his next smack has you rising on your toes. You clench your thighs together, desperate to ignore your body’s response. Although it does little to stop your man from wedging a proprietary hand between them anyway.

“Now is not the time to go quiet on me, little Bird.”

He gently cups your most intimate flesh before expertly parting your messy folds with his thick fingers. A soft cry escapes when he lightly pinches your swollen clit, making your hips buck.

Sweet Christ! You honestly had no idea just how much you actually enjoyed being manhandled until you crossed paths with this guy.

“All I was trying to do was answer your question!” You grit out, doing your best to ignore the filthy wet squelch of his palm colliding against your core once more, causing a fresh wave of arousal to dampen your thighs.

“And I didn’t much care for your answer.” Ari hums, taking a moment to lazily pet your now glistening cunt.

And who’s fault was that? Just because the man thought he owned the rights to your body didn’t give him the authority to…to…punish you like this. But when you inform him of that, the only response you get comes in the form of an annoying chuckle.

“I was joking, damn you – ooh!” You whine, stomping your foot for good measure – both of which manages to earn you another spank.

“But that’s just it, baby.” He rumbles, taking a break from further abusing your poor, overworked flesh. “Last I checked, jokes were supposed to be funny.” You press your face against the cool surface of the table as two sinful fingers playfully tease your entrance. “And talking shit about these curves ain’t funny, right?”

“Y-yes! I mean right.” In need of a little relief, you attempt to entice your man by wiggling your ass. But instead of doing as you bid, those same fingers soon find their way back to your swollen bundle of nerves, pinching just hard enough to get and hold your attention.

“Glad you think so.” He murmurs, leaning down to brush his lips along the sensitive shell of your ear as his free hand moves to rub soothing circles along your lower back. “And since I’ve finally got you in the mood to listen, how about we talk about something else?”

Instead of responding, you merely nod – giving him leave to get whatever the hell he wanted off of his perfectly sculpted chest.

“The next time you get the bright idea to shut me out without givin’ me a chance to plead my case, you had better do a damned good job respecting this gorgeous body while I’m on ice.” The air of danger in Ari’s husky purr has goosebumps rippling along your heated flesh. “Because if you don’t, I swear to God the moment you let me back in, I’m gonna do a lot more than spank this pretty pussy. You get me?”

Still unable to form words, you decide to let your body do the talking. Groaning low in your throat, you arch your hips and wiggle your ass, purposely grinding your cunt against his now drenched palm.

“Ah, sweetheart.” He rasps in approval, gently nipping your earlobe with his sharp teeth. “You get me. Yeah, you do.”

As a reward for your submission, Ari takes pity on you by slowly spearing his fingers inside your sopping wet core. Now it’s his turn to groan when he feels your velvety walls flutter around him, eagerly sucking him back in when he tries to pull out.

“Fuck if my girl ain’t got a greedy fucking pussy.” Your bounty hunter muses, more to himself than to you. “Are you sore? Need me to let you rest some more?”

In all reality, what he really wanted to do was splay you out on the table and kiss your puffy pussy lips until you were a sobbing, trembling mess. But he’d also settle for burying himself balls deep inside of you too.

Regardless of which one he chose, they both all but guaranteed that you’d remember this particular lesson for days to come. Because no one was allowed to talk shit about his beautiful Bird – not even you.

“Want you to fill me up again.” You tell him, meaning every word even as his expert touch threatens to rob you of breath. “Help me work up an appetite. Please, Sir.” You tack on the last bit, hoping that might be enough to tip your man over the edge.

Your now frantic pulse sings to new heights when you’re treated to the sound of Ari’s sweatpants hitting the floor behind you. Apparently he felt that you’d been punished long enough – something for which you were grateful.

You can’t help but whine when he finally removes his fingers, leaving your empty walls clenching around nothing but air. Anticipation fills you while you wait, expecting to feel the bulbous head of his cock glide its way through your slippery folds.

However, you’re surprised when he drops to his knees instead. His large, slightly calloused hands grip the backs of your thighs, forcing your legs apart just enough to make his intentions clear.

“How ‘bout you feed me first, greedy girl?” He growls, possessively nuzzling his nose along the soft skin of your inner thigh. “I have a feeling I’m gonna need all my strength to help your stubborn ass work up a proper appetite.”

“Oo-okaay!” Your legs threaten to give out when Ari’s wide, flat tongue begins lapping at your damp flesh, making a show of savoring your sweet honey. He holds you in place while he feasts, his subtle use of strength letting you know that your only job was to keep still and submit to his sensual assault.

“Mm...” Ari rumbles, enjoying every desperate little whine and whimper that makes its way past your lips. "Best meal I've had in days." Forgoing his need to breathe, he fully buries his head between your thighs, content to eat you from the back as if he had all the time in the world.

Which he did, especially now that make-up sex was once again back on the menu.

END

Unofficial Tag List

@katymae12344

@identity2212

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@blackhawkfanatic

@jamneuromain

@queerqueenlynn

@pono-pura-vida

@daykrisr999

@jamneuromain

@ninacutebee16

608 notes · View notes

thewulf · 1 month

Text

Bound by Shadows || Azriel

Summary: Request - I'm hoping you could write a fanfic where reader, Feyre's twin, who actually killed the wolf but let Feyre take the credit... and before she realizes what she's done Feyre is gone. She struggles with guilt and isolation in Velaris after the sisters transformation by the Cauldron.... Read Rest Here

A/N: OKAY I LOVE THIS. It got away from me a bit. I didn't realize how fun this world would be to dive into. Let me know your thoughts as always :)

Pairing: Azriel Shadowsinger x Female Reader (Feyre Archeron Twin Sister)

Word Count: 8.2k +

TW: General ACOTAR TW

Under the starlit skies of Velaris the City of Starlight pulses with a life of its own. Its vibrant lights reflecting off the river with laughter and music filling the air, breathing life into every cobblestone and corner. But for you the city’s brilliance only deepens the shadows that cling to your soul. Shadows that no light seems capable of dispelling.

You walked alone. Your steps aimless being driven by the restless guilt that gnaws incessantly at your conscience. Every whisper of the wind seems to accuse you, every glance from a passerby seems to pierce through the facade you barely maintain. The weight of the secret you harbor presses down on you with every step… the wolf, the woods, the dreadful slice of the arrow that was meant to protect Feyre not harm her. But Feyre stepped forward and shouldered the blame. She was taken from you in an instant and forced to face the horrors of the faerie lands. It was all to shield you her twin she thought of being too gentle, too fragile for the brutal truths of that world.

The transformation wrought by the Cauldron has only magnified everything. Every emotion, every fear, every shard of guilt. It was supposed to be a rebirth but for you it feels more like a slow descent into a nightmare from which you cannot awaken. The power that now courses through your veins feels like chains. A constant reminder of the price paid to the mother. Of the freedom you don’t believe you deserve.

As you wander through the bustling streets the sounds of celebration around you clash violently with the turmoil within. Families and lovers share warm, joyous moments. Their laughter echoing in the crisp night air while you drift among them. You were simply a specter unseen, untouched by the light of their joy. Your heart aches with a loneliness so profound it threatens to consume you whole. To reduce your existence to a mere shadow of regret and sorrow.

You find yourself on one of the many ornate bridges spanning the Sidra. A place you often found some sort of solace in. You leaned over the balustrade to gaze into the dark waters below. The reflection of the city’s lights dances across the surface, a stark contrast to the darkness that seems to stretch endlessly beneath. It is here in the quiet far enough away from the eyes of those who know you, those who worry over you, that your facade finally cracks.

Tears that were unbidden and unwelcome, spill over, tracing cold paths down your cheeks. You are tired. So incredibly tired of pretending. Of hiding the depth of your pain. You wish to scream so loud. To let out the anguish that fills you, but your voice is as lost as your soul feels in the face of your endless guilt. Instead, you just stare down at the dark waters with silent sobs wracking your body. It was better this way. You couldn’t let Feyre see you like this. She was finally so happy. So happy with her mate. Her Rhysand. You couldn’t threaten that happiness. You owed her so much more than that. You quite literally owed her your life. So, you would suck it up in solace. Cry it out on your own.

In the solitude of the night, you allowed yourself to feel your overwhelming emotions. To acknowledge the pain and the darkness. Little did you know you are not as alone as you believe. From the shadows an Illyrian figure watches you. His own heart heavy with unspoken secrets. Azriel was the spymaster of night court for a reason. He picked up on you disappearing for hours at a time when the others didn’t. He picked up on the fake smiles you threw everyone’s way. He seemed to pick up on it while the others didn’t… other than Feyre who seemed to watch you just as much as he did. He decided he would watch over you. For Feyre, his brothers mate. And for you. The woman who couldn’t seem to get used to being Fae as easily as your sisters did. The human turned Fae that consumed more of his thoughts than he cared to admit.

But for now, he waited behind his shadows. A silent guardian in the night recognizing that some battles must be faced alone before they can be shared.

You returned from the bustling markets of Velaris with arms laden with the myriad items Feyre requested. As you approach the townhouse the warm light from within spills out onto the cobblestones. It was a stark contrast to the dusk settling over the city. You pause at the door steeling yourself with a deep breath before stepping inside. Your smile as you hand the bags to Feyre doesn't quite reach your eyes. But she's too caught up in the moment to notice.

"Thank you so much," she says with a relief evident as she starts to unpack the food you’d volunteered to pick up for her. She pauses before she got too carried away giving you that look, the one you've come to know so well. The one that silently implores you to stay. To be a part of her world. "Will you stay for dinner? Everyone's coming over. Even Amren agreed to come. It would mean so much to me."

Her eyes are pleading and you know you can't refuse. Not when she's given up so much for you. With a nod you agree even as your stomach tightens at the thought of facing everyone. It was easy to fake your inner turmoil when it was only her or Rhys. But when it was the entirety of the Inner Circle it was harder to hide away. Inevitably someone would get you hooked in on a conversation. You haven't sat down with them since… well, since before the Cauldron. Since before everything changed. And that was almost an entire year ago now. You knew this request would come sooner or later. Though you were hoping for later you were going to suck it up for Feyre.

As the evening wears on the townhouse fills with laughter and conversation with everyone gathering in the familiar camaraderie that once felt like home to you. But now you feel like an outsider watching from the shadows even as you sit among them. At the dinner table you're terribly quiet. You were merely pushing food around your plate listening to the ebb and flow of conversations you can't force yourself to seem to join.

Feyre decided to sit beside you in hopes of calming your nerves. She notices. She notices the way your eyes were downturned. The way you occasionally nodded your head or smiled briefly pretending to be listening. The way you didn’t pick your fork up once. Her joy fades a little each time she glances your way. You didn’t notice the way her expression turned from mirth to concern. She squeezed your hand under the table in a silent message of solidarity and love. But even her touch can't pull you from the fog that's settled over you. You couldn’t help but wonder if this was your punishment? To live in a hazed state for thousands of years? Oh, how you wished to be a tiny little human again with the promise of dead after a hundred years or so.

Rhysand sat at the head of the table catches Feyre’s subtle, worried glances towards her twin. She meets his eyes with a silent conversation passing between them. She didn’t know what to do anymore. She needed help. He nods slightly. His expression was solemn, understanding the depth of her worry. His gaze then shifts to you filled with a quiet resolve. He knew you were struggling but didn’t pick up on just how much you were. You’d done a masterful job until tonight hiding it away.

Rhysand had felt the ripple of concern from Feyre long before she voiced it. Her distress over your withdrawal echoing within him. She watched you with a sister's keen eye and her silent worry bled into their shared bond. A testament to her deep care for you.

Azriel, Feyre is troubled by Y/N's state. As am I. Rhysand's thought reached out to his brother that was sitting next to you. There was a thread of urgency woven through the mental call. She's pulling away and Feyre feels it deeply. Keep an eye on her please? Help her if you can.

Azriel's presence in Rhysand's mind was immediate and calm. He was steady force amid the silent storm of concern. I'm already on it, Rhys. I’ve sensed it too, he assured. His mental voice as composed as the shadows he commanded. You don't need to worry. I’ve been watching over her not out of obligation, but because... because she matters to me. I’ll make sure she’s safe and supported.

Azriel’s vigilance came not from an order but from a place of quiet solidarity. His attunement to the nuances of emotion and the unspoken had already drawn him to your side. Rhysand’s request merely echoed the actions he’d already undertaken. His actions were born from a blend of duty and a deep, personal concern that Azriel rarely let show. In the face of Feyre's distress and now Rhysand’s request, he became a silent sentinel for you. He needed to ensure that you were not only protected but also truly seen and understood.

Dinner continues around you as you withdrew into yourself. The laughter a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within you. You're barely aware of Azriel's presence on your other side until you feel him beside you. His chair slightly closer than usual. His voice is soft, almost lost in the surrounding noise, as he leans in. "You don't have to be anything you're not, not here," he murmurs only for you to hear. "It’s okay to just be. To just breathe." His words meant to comfort felt like a lifeline in the sea of your tumultuous thoughts. You didn’t look at him for you were worried tears might spill over. But you nodded in acknowledgement letting him know that you heard him.

The evening slowly winds down and as the others linger over drinks and stories Azriel stays by your side. His presence a steady promise of understanding and patience. He doesn't push you to talk nor does he expect smiles. Instead, he offers the silent support you didn't know you needed, becoming a guardian not just of your safety, but of your peace.

Feyre watches this exchange with a glimmer of hope lighting up her worried features. Perhaps with Azriel's help you might find your way back to them. To yourself. Tonight, though, is just a small step in your journey back to yourself.

As everyone departs for the night you linger in the living room feigning interest in tidying up the small mess left behind. Feyre watches you for a moment with that same concern etching her features. But she decided against speaking, sensing your need for space.

Once the house is quiet you decide to step out for a walk under the night sky of Velaris. It had become your favorite routine. A routine that kept you grounded. A quick walk to your favorite spot on the Sidra. The city's soft lights reflect gently on the river casting dancing patterns on the water. It's beautiful yet the sight does little to ease the tightness in your chest.

You're so lost in your thoughts that you don't notice Azriel's approach until he's almost beside you. His presence is calming and somehow it doesn't startle you. Perhaps because in your heart you know he understands the need for quiet. His own demeanor is often just as reserved.

"Good evening," he says. His voice a low rumble. "Care for some company or would you prefer solitude tonight?"

You consider his offer for a moment. Company might not be so bad even though this was usually just a place for you. But it was Azriel. Someone who respects the silence as much as you do. "Company sounds nice, thank you," you reply with your voice softer than you intended.

Azriel nods falling into step beside you. As you walk his shadows play at your feet. It was a subtle yet comforting gesture. At one point one of his shadows curls around your hand. This small, almost imperceptible touch from his shadows offers a silent, comforting presence that envelops you in a sense of security. Neither of you speaks as you walk along the riverbank. The only sounds was the gentle lapping of water against the shore and the distant hum of the city. The silence between you is more than comfortable, filled with an unspoken understanding that words can sometimes be too cumbersome.

After a while though Azriel speaks up. He wasn’t looking at you but staring out at the water. "It's easy to feel lost in this city… even with its lights and crowds. Sometimes it feels like being surrounded by shadows even in the brightest part of the day."

You glance at him, surprised by the reflection of your own feelings in his words. "Yes, it does," you agree. You were feeling a weight lift slightly knowing that someone else understands.

He nods slightly at your words, "The shadows aren't all there is though. There are places, moments like these, that can offer some respite. And not all shadows are bad." He smiles looking down at the ones that clung to your feet.

His words make you look at him anew. You weren’t just seeing the spymaster or the warrior but someone who also seeks to find balance between the light and the dark. It makes you wonder if perhaps in this shared moment you might find a way to navigate your own shadows. They might not all be bad you had to agree with him.

You don't say much more as you walk back to the townhouse, but the silent agreement hangs between you, comforting and promising. Maybe, just maybe, you're not as alone as you thought.

The dawn is still a whisper of light across Velaris as you sit quietly by the Sidra. The gentle murmur of the river a soothing background to your thoughts that never seemed to shut the hell up. Lost in the reflections of the dancing water you hardly notice Azriel’s approach until he’s beside you. His presence as quiet as the morning. It was becoming a routine for him to join you on the river it seemed. Not that you minded. He might be the one person you’d happily accept to intrude on your solitude.

“You’re up early,” he remarks softly not wanting to startle you. His tone as gentle as the river’s flow.

You look up with a soft smile on your face. His familiar, reassuring presence is a comfort. “Just needed some air,” you reply with a yawn. Your voice carrying the weight of another sleepless night.

Azriel nods, understanding. He looks out over the water for a moment sharing the silence with you. Then, turning back to you, he suggests, “Come with me. I think I have something that might help clear your head. Help you to focus a bit.”

You’re hesitant. The idea of doing anything but sitting quietly feels daunting. But there’s something about his offer. The promise of relief, however temporary, that nudges you to your feet.

“It’s just training,” he adds. seeing your uncertainty. “Physical activity can be a good way to let out some of the emotions that are harder to express in words. We’ll take it slow. You set the pace.”

Trusting Azriel’s judgment, knowing he wouldn’t push you into something without reason, you stand and follow him towards the training grounds. The city is quietly waking around you and the walk is silent but comfortable. His presence a steady reassurance by your side. Something you were slowly growing to cherish.

As you reach the secluded training area the first rays of sunlight begin to warm the cool morning air. Azriel gives you a small, encouraging smile. “Let’s start simple. No pressure. Just you learning to trust your strength again.”

The training starts at an easy pace. Azriel guiding you through basic maneuvers. His patience was evident. But as your body begins to warm up with the activity and your focus sharpens on the movements. There was that sense of release you never knew could come. It was unfamiliar yet welcome that starts to take hold on you.

As the morning sun climbs higher the training session progresses under Azriel's watchful eye. You find yourself gradually syncing with the rhythm of the physical exertion. Each movement flushing out the restless energy that has been building up inside you. Azriel's guidance is firm yet encouraging and you start to feel a rare sense of accomplishment as you slowly master each new maneuver he throws at you.

But as the session intensifies Azriel begins to push you harder, increasing the pace and complexity of the drills. His softness changed into some else. You knew he was only pushing you to help but it was starting to become a little too much. You’d only been Fae for a year to his centuries. "Come on, Y/N, focus. You can handle this," he urges. Throwing a series of rapid, controlled strikes that you're meant to block and counter.

For a moment you rise to the challenge your movements sharp and sure. Yet the physical strain is relentless. All too soon it starts to mirror the inner struggled you've been trying to manage. The boundaries between physical exertion and emotional pain blur… each block and dodge feeling more like a fight against your inner demons rather than a simple training exercise.

Suddenly, one of Azriel's strikes comes a little too close, a little too fast. It isn't meant to hit you and it doesn't but the rush of air as it passes by your face triggers something within you. Panic seizes your chest and the walls you've been holding up begin to crumble. Your movements falter. Your hands drop to your sides rapidly as your breath catches in your throat.

You step back abruptly with short, ragged breaths. Azriel stops immediately, concern replacing the intensity in his eyes. "Hey, are you okay?" he asks all too softly this time. He watched with concern as you struggled to compose yourself.

You nod rapidly trying to blink back the tears that want to rush out. “I’m fine. Just tired.” You murmur. It didn’t even sound believable to you. You turned you back to him so he wouldn’t see the distraught look on your face.

He steps forward with a sadness etched deeply on his features. "It's more than just tiredness, isn't it?" he asks gently as he reached out but stopped short, giving you space yet showing his readiness to support.

You shake your head again trying to compose yourself. Willing yourself to rebuild the barriers crumbling around you. "I'm fine, really, just got a little carried away," you offer weakly with your back still turned, fearing that facing him might reveal too much.

But Azriel doesn’t retreat. Instead, his shadows do what he physically refrains from—they reach out for you. You feel a cool, soothing sensation as one shadow gently curls around your arm, not binding but comforting. It was like a silent message of empathy and support. The unexpected kindness, the soft touch of darkness that doesn’t demand or judge, only seeks to comfort. But it undoes you completely.

Your defenses shatter at the tender contact. Tears finally spilling over as you turn back to face him. The floodgates opened by the gentle brush of his shadow. "I'm not fine," you admit, your voice choked with emotion. "It's all just... it's too much sometimes. I feel like I'm drowning in what I had to do. In what Feyre had to endure because of me. All because of me."

Azriel listens with his gaze never wavering. His eyes were filled with compassion and a profound understanding. His shadow retracts slightly giving you a moment, respecting your space while keeping the silent promise of his presence.

He nods his head willing you to continue. "Let it out, Y/N. You don't have to carry this alone," he says quietly finding the courage to step closer now. He opened his arms to you in an offer of comfort that you no longer have the strength to refuse.

As you step into his embrace, allowing yourself to be held, the warmth of his body contrasts with the cool touch of his shadows creating a cocoon of safety around you. "I was the one who killed the wolf that started this whole mess," you confess through sobs. Your words muffled against his chest. "Feyre took the blame to protect me... because she thought I couldn't handle the consequences."

“It’s okay,” he whispers. His voice close to your ear. “You were never meant to carry this alone.” He pauses. His hand gently lifting your chin so you can look at him. “Feyre’s path was her own. Fate had a hand in it. She was meant to meet Rhysand through Tamlin. To find her way to the Night Court. It couldn’t have been you, Y/N. Your path is different and it’s still unfolding.”

You shake your head feeling the weight of it all. “But-“

Azriel’s hold tightens reassuringly. His wings stretched around you before he stops you. “She did what she believed was right, out of love. And now you need to allow yourself to be loved and supported, too. Let your family be here for you. Let me be here for you.” he pleads, his tone imbued with a promise. In the safety of Azriel’s wings with the gentle embrace of his shadows, you feel a lightness you haven’t felt in a long time.

Beneath the shelter of his wings Azriel holds you close feeling the profound shift within as your eyes meet. In that moment a golden thread previously unseen but always present tightens, binding your soul to his. The mating bond ignites with a radiant force, undeniable and transformative.

This newfound connection stirs a deep protectiveness in Azriel, an urge to cherish and guard you that feels both ancient and freshly awakened. Love pulses through this bond unspoken yet palpable aligning his heartbeat with yours. He experiences a profound sense of belonging, understanding now that every moment with you, every shared concern, was leading to this revelation.

With the emergence of the bond, Azriel, who often cloaked himself in mystery, finds in you a clarity that illuminates his existence. This bond does not overwhelm; instead, it completes him, brightening his path forward. The world around him expands promising a journey not walked alone but side by side, in step with each breath.

Yet, the magnitude of this discovery brings a mix of elation and a daunting sense of responsibility. You are vulnerable, your soul laid bare before him, and he is cautious not to burden you further. Internally, Azriel grapples with the desire to declare the bond versus the need to provide you with stability and support without the shock of this revelation.

He resolves to keep this monumental discovery to himself for now, focusing on being your steadfast support. His shadows as a subtle extension of his will, curl gently around you both. They offered a protection and comfort without overwhelming you with the truth.

Azriel knows he must seek Rhysand’s counsel to navigate the complexities of this bond with sensitivity and respect for your emotions. As he holds you he silently vows to take this journey at a pace that honors both your readiness and the bond’s potential. Wrapped in his embrace, Azriel stands as your guardian bonded by fate yet guided by a deep respect for the journey your heart needs to undertake.

"You've been strong today," Azriel whispers into your hair as he senses your grip tighten. "Let's head back home. You need rest." His voice is as soothing as the twilight and his offer is tender, without any urgency that might hint at the truth simmering beneath his calm exterior.

The walk back from the training grounds is quiet, filled with a companionable silence that speaks of shared struggles and mutual care. As Azriel guides you to Feyre's studio, where she immerses herself in swathes of color and light, his touch lingers reassuringly on your arm. It's an affirmation of his presence, his support, his unspoken pledge to be there for you, come what may.

You offer him a soft smile. One that acknowledges the solace his presence brings even though you were still oblivious to the tectonic shift in his inner landscape. Azriel returns your smile with a quiet intensity, a vow that when the time comes for the bond to reveal itself to you he'll be there, just as he is now—steadfast, protective, and utterly devoted.

A subtle shift in Azriel’s demeanor as he prepares to leave catches Feyre's sharp eye. There's a fleeting tension, a trace of something potent and profound flickering in the depths of his usually inscrutable eyes. It's a glimpse of vulnerability. An undercurrent of panic that he's quick to disguise but not before Feyre takes note. Something significant has unsettled the shadowsinger and it likely had to do with you.

With a nod that holds more gravity than usual Azriel turns to go. His steps are measured but the urgency in his exit is apparent to anyone who knows him well. Once he steps beyond the view of the townhouse his wings unfurl, a dark silhouette against the Velaris skyline. He takes to the air with a speed driven by the need for counsel. For understanding the newly realized bond weighing on him with a mix of awe and anxiety.

He lands at the House of Wind with an intensity that is uncharacteristic for him. His feet touching down on the stone with a thud. There's no time for hesitation as he makes his way to where he knows he'll find Rhysand, perhaps Cassian too. The door to the study bursts open under his force and he stands there as a figure riddled with the shock of his own heart's awakening.

Inside the study, Rhysand and Cassian pause mid-conversation as the unexpected clamor announces Azriel's approach. Concern flickers over their faces. A stark, thunderous arrival is not Azriel's way.

"Are you alright, Az?" Cassian is the first to react. His voice tinged with concern as he notes Azriel's agitated state.

Azriel pauses before catching his breath. His demeanor one of a man grappling with overwhelming news. "It's the mating bond," he manages to say with his voice tight of emotion. "With Y/N—it just... it just snapped into place."

Rhysand rises from his chair. His expression shifting to one of understanding as he processes Azriel's words. The air in the room thickens with the significance of his declaration and there's a moment of collective stillness as they all absorb the meaning.

Cassian’s previous levity fades into a solemn gravity, reflecting the seriousness of Azriel's revelation. "That’s... big news, Az. How are you feeling about this?" he asks as he stepped closer in caution.

Rhysand, maintaining his composure, offers a supportive nod. "This is a momentous time, Azriel. We’re here for you, whatever you need," he assures him embodying the role of the leader who understands the profound implications of such a bond.

Azriel exhales deeply the reality of the situation settling in. "It's overwhelming," he concedes. A frown creasing his brow. "I mean, I hoped, maybe even wished for it. But now that it’s here, it feels... heavy." He looks up. His expression serious. "She’s still healing. I need to be careful. Need to make sure this doesn’t overwhelm her."

Rhysand gives a supportive nod. "Just keep being there for her, Az. You’ve always managed to support her without pushing. This doesn’t change your approach just your understanding of the connection."

Cassian smirks, pushing off from the table and clapping Azriel on the back with a bit more force than necessary. "Look at you all serious and broody—more than usual, I mean. Come on, Az, you know you're probably the only one who can handle this with the perfect blend of mystery. Besides," he adds with a wry grin, "have you seen the way she looks at you when you're not looking? That’s not just gratitude my friend. It’s like she’s hit the jackpot and she doesn’t even know it yet."

Azriel can’t help but crack a small smile despite the turmoil inside. "Thanks, Cass. I just don’t want to mess this up."

"Don’t worry so much, brother," Cassian chuckles, his tone light but earnest. "You’re doing fine. Plus, if you start floating around like a lovestruck bat, I’ll be here to pull you back down."

Rhysand laughs softly before shaking his head at the general. "He’s right, though. Take it step by step, Azriel. Let her come to terms with her own feelings. When she’s ready it’ll be right for both of you."

Feeling somewhat lighter Azriel nods appreciatively at his brothers. "Step by step," he repeats, firming his resolve. With a final nod he steps back into the night bolstered by the mix of Cassian’s humor and Rhysand’s leadership. He was ready to face the future with a heart full of hope and a mind cautious of the delicate balance he needs to maintain.

Back in the townhouse Feyre greets you with that mischievous grin that heralds some sisterly teasing. She sets her paintbrush down before wiping her hands on a cloth as her eyes sparkle with playful curiosity. "So, what did you do to him?" she teases with a smirk on her face.

You frown genuinely puzzled by her question. "What? Nothing, I... we were just training, then he said he had to go." Your voice trails off mirroring your confusion over Azriel's sudden change in demeanor.

Feyre chuckles, shaking her head as she picks up her brush again. "That man is always so mysterious. But don't worry it's probably just Azriel things. Or maybe, just maybe, you're the perfect distraction for our dear spymaster."

"What are you on about?" you ask while feeling a mix of amusement and bewilderment at her jest.

"Oh, please!" Feyre laughs, her brush dancing over the canvas. "He looks at you like every moment you spend together is something precious. Like you're a rare painting he can't quite believe he's stumbled upon."

"You're imagining things," you dismiss her. Shaking your head with a smile. "Azriel is just being kind. He's like that with everyone."

Feyre gives you a knowing look. Her smirk broadening. "Sure, he’s kind to everyone, but with you it’s different. He doesn’t look at anyone else quite like he looks at you. Like you’ve cast a spell on him and he’s trying to figure out how to live with the enchantment."

Her words make you pause. The playful insinuation tugging at the edges of your thoughts. Despite your dismissal Feyre’s observation lingers. A teasing possibility that maybe there's a hint of truth in her playful assertions. The room fills with your laughter, a sound that masks the flutter of curiosity her words have sparked.

Unbeknownst to you while you puzzle over Azriel's sudden departure, Feyre's mind is swiftly connecting with Rhysand's. A silent inquiry flits through their bond: Something's up with Azriel, he seemed... off. Did I miss something?

Rhysand's mental response comes with a chuckle that Feyre can almost hear: He’s fine, love. Just had a bit of a revelation. He’ll share when he's ready.

A spark of mischief lights up Feyre’s eyes as understanding dawns on her. Her lips curve into a sly, knowing grin. But she carefully masks any hint of her newfound knowledge from you. "You know, I think we deserve some fun today. Just us twins. You’ve been pushing hard with all that training and brooding," she suggests. Her voice bubbling with an excitement that piques your curiosity.

"Really? What did you have in mind?" you ask. Your earlier confusion over Azriel's behavior giving way to intrigue at Feyre's sudden enthusiasm.

"Oh, just a day for us to unwind and maybe get into a little mischief," Feyre replies, winking. "We can leave the mysteries of shadowy spymasters behind and focus on spoiling ourselves."

You laugh while nodding in agreement, relieved to set aside the morning's puzzles. "That sounds perfect, actually."

As the day unfolds with Feyre leading the way with her occasional secretive smiles and the warmth of her company envelop you, making you feel cherished and a part of something larger than just sisterly bonding. Every now and then she throws you a look filled with unspoken laughter as if she's in on a joke that’s yet to be told adding an intriguing layer to your day out.

"Enjoy today," Feyre says at one point. Her grin infectious. "Because who knows? Tomorrow you might find yourself swept off your feet in ways you never expected." Her words are light, but they dance with implication, leaving you wondering about the possibilities that tomorrow might bring.

As the days unfold since your training session you begin to notice an unusual shift in Azriel's behavior when he's around you. Always the quiet, stoic presence, he now seems to carry an air of nervousness that is both surprising and endearing. It's as if he's forgotten how to be around you. His typically smooth demeanor replaced with an awkwardness that sends a ripple of amusement throughout your days.

During your daily routines, whether you're practicing combat skills or just strolling through the lush gardens of the Night Court, Azriel is consistently by your side. Yet, his typical quiet confidence seems to falter. Today when he hands you a training sword his fingers not only linger but also tremble slightly against yours. The contact is brief but the moment his skin brushes against yours a visible blush creeps up his neck coloring his cheeks in a rare show of discomposure.

"Sorry," he stutters. Quickly retracting his hand as if scorched by the brief contact. He averts his gaze making sure to look anywhere but at you. His discomfort palpable in the tight set of his shoulders.

You can't help but tilt your head eyeing him with a mixture of concern and curiosity. "Azriel, are you alright?" you ask with a hint of a smile on your lips. Your voice is soft though hoping to ease some of his evident tension. The gardens around you bloom vibrantly. A stark contrast to Azriel’s suddenly flustered state.

He clears his throat attempting to regain some of his usual composure. "Yes, I'm... fine," he manages. His voice a notch higher than usual. He meets your gaze again holding it for a moment longer than he intends. The intensity of his stare both confusing and thrilling.

Just then as if to spite Azriel, Cassian strolls by and upon noticing Azriel's flushed face and your puzzled expression he can't help but let out a snicker. "Lost your cool, Shadowsinger?" he teases, winking at you before continuing on his way with a chuckle. "You’re usually smoother than this, brother!"

Azriel shoots Cassian a brief glare but there's a resigned humor in his eyes that suggests he knows just how out of character he must seem. As Cassian’s laughter fades into the distance Azriel finally turns back to you attempting a sheepish smile.

"It seems I'm a bit out of sorts today," he admits. His voice finally steadying. "Nothing to worry about, really."

Watching Azriel grapple with this uncharacteristic awkwardness only endears him more to you. There’s a sweetness in his struggle. A reminder that beneath the composed façade of the Night Court’s spymaster lies a depth of emotion rarely seen but profoundly felt.

On a tranquil afternoon in the Night Court, you find yourself relaxing in one of the quieter gardens alongside Feyre, Rhys, and Azriel. The air is filled with gentle laughter and the soft rustling of leaves. Cassian and Nesta are notably absent, presumably because Cassian has taken it upon himself to "help" Nesta with some errands—a pursuit that everyone knows often ends in playful bickering and affectionate banter.

Elain has also opted for a day out with Lucien exploring new botanical gardens on the outskirts of the city. Her passion for plants and Lucien's support in her endeavors showcases the growing bond between them.

The conversation flows easily until Rhys, with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, steers it towards Azriel’s recent scouting mission. "Azriel here stumbled upon something quite intriguing recently, didn’t you?" he teases while watching Azriel closely.

Caught off-guard Azriel’s response is delayed, his eyes widening slightly as if Rhys had tread into forbidden territory. "It was nothing out of the ordinary," he finally mutters. Though his voice holds a trace of unease.

Feyre jumps into the fray. Her tone laced with playful curiosity. "Oh, but I heard it was quite the discovery. Rare and fascinating… something that might deeply engage a man’s interest."

You laugh completely oblivious to the underlying meaning and look at Azriel with raised eyebrows. "What was it, Az? Some kind of hidden gem or a lost artifact?"

There’s a brief moment where Azriel’s composure falters under your direct gaze, his eyes meeting yours before quickly glancing away. He recovers quickly, however, a slight flush on his cheeks. "Yes, something like that," he agrees, his voice steadying. "A discovery that could indeed change one’s perspective for a lifetime."

Rhys doesn't miss a beat adding with a light chuckle, "Let’s hope it’s not kept secret too long. Such treasures are better when shared, right?"

Feyre nods enthusiastically. Her eyes dancing with amusement. "Especially when they bring people closer together, right, Az?"

Azriel meets Feyre’s gaze. His expression settling into a subtle smile that hints at his deep thoughts. “Indeed,” he replies quietly, the single word rich with unspoken meaning, affirming the sentiment with his usual succinct eloquence.

As the conversation moves on the jokes and laughter continue, your heart warmed by the newfound perspective you found with them. Azriel watches you with a gentle, albeit slightly wistful smile. He noticed how much more you're around, how your laughter fills the air more often, and how your vibrant personality begins to shine through once more. His heart fills with a mixture of relief and deep affection, seeing the signs of your healing. In these moments he cherishes the progress you've made feeling hopeful about the future. He was ready to support you every step of the way as the true nature of his discovery waits to be shared with you.

As the weeks blend into months, the connection between you and Azriel deepens. It was nurtured by shared moments and his unwavering support. On a crisp evening as the sun begins its descent painting the sky with strokes of pink and gold, Azriel brings you to a secluded hilltop that overlooks Velaris. This spot was known only to him and offers a panoramic view of the city as it starts to twinkle with the first lights of evening, the natural grassy surface underfoot soft and inviting.

Standing close by his presence was both comforting and solid, Azriel shares a story, his voice low and warm, recounting a humorous mishap from his early days as a spymaster. The tale is endearing, revealing a less guarded side of him and laughter bubbles up freely from your throat.

As your laughter transitions into a soft chuckle, you turn to face him. The last rays of the sunset bathe Azriel in a warm, golden light that illuminates his features, casting a glow that outlines him like an ethereal halo. His eyes that were filled with affection and a hint of amusement, meet yours. In that instant something profound shifts within you.

It feels as if a key has turned, unlocking something wondrous and overwhelming. The mating bond, which has been delicately weaving its way through each of your interactions, now clicks into place with perfect clarity. The sensation is electrifying yet profoundly comforting. Resonating through your very being.

Your breath catches and your heart races—not just from the shock of the realization but from the undeniable rightness that surges through you. Azriel, noticing the subtle transformation in your expression halts his story. A flicker of concern crossing his face.

"Are you okay?" he asks with his voice tinged with worry. The humor from his story now replaced by attentive care.

A mix of joy and amazement washes over you as you feel a comforting swirl of his shadows around your feet. Like curious creatures affirming this new connection. "Azriel, I think... I think the mating bond just…," you trailed off unsure how to continue. Your voice was filled with awe. The realization brings a new depth to your smile as you meet his gaze which is now shimmering with a mixture of relief and happiness.

"That's what I've been feeling," Azriel breathes out, a tender smile spreading across his face as he steps closer. He reaches out gently brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "I've been waiting, hoping you would feel it too when the time was right."

Taking his hand, you feel a warmth that goes beyond physical touch. A connection that seeps into the depths of your soul. "I’m glad it’s you," you say quietly, sincerely, the words flowing easily.

Azriel’s other hand comes up to gently cup your cheek. His touch feather light. "And I’m honored it’s you," he responds. His gaze locked with yours. The world around you—the city lights, the soft whisper of the evening breeze—fades into a gentle backdrop to the profound connection you share.

In this moment with Azriel’s shadows dancing around, playful, and protective, you feel a sense of completeness. A promise of endless possibilities. Together, bonded not just by fate but by a mutual understanding you know that whatever the future holds you'll get to navigate it side by side.

As the realization of the mating bond settles between you, Azriel's shadows seem to take on a life of their own. They swirled around you both with a newfound enthusiasm. The delicate tendrils of darkness weave around your legs and occasionally brush against your hands as if testing and reinforcing the connection that has just been acknowledged.

Azriel watches with a tender amusement as his shadows interact with you, their movements more animated than usual. "They seem to have taken quite a liking to you," he comments. His voice warm with affection and a hint of pride. "They're not usually this... attentive."

As the shadows continue their gentle dance around you, one particularly daring tendril snakes up your arm, its touch lighter than a feather. You can't help but laugh. The sound echoing softly in the quiet of the evening. With a delighted grin you reach out to trace the path of the shadow with your fingertips, marveling at the cool, tingling sensation it leaves on your skin.

Azriel continues watching with an affectionate roll of his eyes accompanying his half-smirk. "You're going to spoil them," he teases. His tone light but full of warmth.

Encouraged by your positive reaction another shadow playfully darts forward and mimics the motion of a gentle kiss on your cheek. You giggle with joy, your hand touching the spot in mock surprise and then you're both laughing. A shared moment of joy and wonder at the peculiar yet endearing behavior of the shadows.

Azriel shakes his head, but his eyes shine with amusement. "Now you've done it. They're going to expect this king of attention all the time," he jokes as the shadows around him swirled in what you swear could be shadowy laughter.

"You know, I think I'm okay with that," you respond still smiling as you watch the shadows retreat slightly, as if bashful from the attention. "They're quite charming. Just like someone else I know." You glance up at Azriel with a playful smirk. Enjoying the light flush that colors his cheeks at the compliment.

The shadows, seemingly pleased with their role in this light-hearted exchange, settle more calmly around you both like a contented sigh after a bout of laughter. The protective circle they form feels like a gentle embrace not just from Azriel but from all parts of him.

As the laughter fades Azriel's expression turns tender, his gaze softening as he searches your face looking for any sign of unease. "But seriously," he says with his voice low and earnest, "are you really okay?" His concern is palpable. The bond between you making every emotion, every nuance of feeling that much more intense and meaningful.

You meet his gaze feeling a surge of warmth from his sincere concern. Smiling gently, you nod, the tranquility of the moment filling you with a profound sense of peace. "I really am okay. For the first time in a long time," you admit. Your voice steady and sure. The confession feels like a significant acknowledgment of the journey you've been on and the role Azriel, and his shadows, have played in it.

Azriel's smile in response is radiant. A look of relief and happiness that brightens his entire demeanor. "That's all I’ve ever wanted to hear," he murmurs. His voice soft with emotion. He stands closer, his hand gently squeezing yours. "Come on, love," he whispers with a twinkle in his eyes. "Let's fly home."

With a graceful motion Azriel unfurls his expansive wings, the dark feathers shimmering under the starlight. The sight never fails to take your breath away. He wraps an arm securely around your waist, his touch reassuring. "Ready?" he asks. His voice a low rumble filled with excitement and anticipation.

With a nod you cling to him, feeling the rush of air as he leaps into the sky. Velaris unfolds below you. It was a gorgeous tapestry of lights and shadows. The wind was cool and exhilarating against your face. Flying with Azriel, held close against his chest, the city sprawling beneath you is an experience that feels as if it straddles the line between dream and reality.

The flight is swift and smooth. The quiet only broken by the rushing wind and the steady beat of Azriel's powerful wings. The world seems to shrink away, leaving only the two of you soaring through the night sky. As the House of Wind comes into view Azriel’s descent is gentle, a reminder of his skill and care for you.

You land softly on the balcony, the cool night breeze playing around you, still wrapped in the warmth of his embrace. Just as you touch down the laughter and lively banter of the Inner Circle reach your ears from inside.

As you and Azriel step through the grand doors of the House of Wind the lively atmosphere of the Inner Circle greets you. Cassian's booming voice fills the foyer as he spots you descending from the balcony. "Finally decided to join us, huh? Or were you two plotting to take over Velaris with your love-struck scheming?" he teases, winking not so conspicuously.

Rhysand joins in with a sly grin. His eyes twinkling with mischief. "I think they were busy weaving shadows and starlight. Look how they landed, like a pair of night-blooming flowers." His voice was laden with humor and draws a round of chuckles from around the room.

Feyre, Nesta, and Elain watch from the side, their expressions varying degrees of amusement and affection. Feyre's eyes meet yours and she gives you an approving nod. Her smile suggesting she understands more than she lets on. Nesta’s smirk is more enigmatic but supportive while Elain’s gentle gaze is filled with romantic delight at the scene unfolding before her.

Amid the teasing Azriel keeps you close, his arm remaining protectively around your waist. The warmth of his embrace reassures you. His presence a calming force against the good-natured ribbing. "Ignore them," he murmurs softly against your ear, just loud enough for you to hear over the laughter. His voice is rich with affection and a hint of playfulness that only you are privy to.

"You make it sound so easy," you whisper back, unable to suppress a smile feeling buoyed by the love filling the room.

As the evening progresses the light banter continues, with everyone occasionally casting teasing glances your way, making playful comments about the inseparable duo you and Azriel have become. Despite the jests there’s an underlying current of genuine happiness for you both. A celebration of the deepening bond that everyone seems to recognize and respect.

The night unfolds with shared stories, laughter, and an occasional clinking of glasses in toasts, not just to the night but to new beginnings and magical connections. As you stand by Azriel’s side, surrounded by friends who are more like family. You feel a profound sense of belonging and happiness. Here in the heart of the Night Court, under the watchful eyes of the stars and the soft glow of the city, you are home—not just in place, but in heart, bound by love, laughter, and the eternal dance of shadows and light.

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!) : @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @kenn-spencerswifey @guacam011y @illisea @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

653 notes · View notes