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cowboydisaster · 4 months

Note

For the Christmas countdown!

Dutch sends reader and Arthur to find the perfect Christmas tree for camp. Reader says she knows a place near Colter. But they get lost, and what’s that? One bed? Needing to share body warmth? What ever could go wrong 😈😈 as smutty as you find comfortable to write behe

* ˚ ✦ Ceasefire * ˚ ✦

pairing: arthur morgan x f!reader word count: 2.8k a/n: One bed trope is elite. love this prompt. Arthur is a little toxic in this one ngl. probably med. honor. I aint gonna lie gang, this is fucking FILTH. warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, dubcon

cowboydisaster's christmas countdown: FOUR days 'till christmas!

christmas countdown┊main masterlist┊rdr2 masterlist

Arthur kicks the old door in, nearly crumbling the rotten thing before sticking his lantern into the worn down cabin. No words are exchanged as he ushers you though the threshold, slamming the door behind you both.

The storm outside is brutal, battering the sides of the cabin, sounding like bullets pelting the walls. Hail and snow beat down on the roof, carried by whipping, whistling winds. Even in your wool coat, your limbs feel like ice, your fingers and toes numb.

The cabin you’re entering is old and creaky. The wind seems to whisper through the walls eerily, letting cold air soak through the cracks and wrap around you. You shiver, walking through the main room, pushing open a squealing door to reveal one small bedroom with one tiny bed. You nod, figuring as much. It’s the only door in the house, so you avert your attention back towards Arthur, knelt before the fireplace. He's digging through the wood by the mantle, grunting and sighing angrily to himself. A tense silence continues between you and Arthur– it hangs in the air like static electricity, and you’re just waiting for it to strike.

“Arthur, I'm sorry.” You whisper, arms pulling your coat tighter around yourself.

“Kinda late for apologizin’, considerin’ our circumstances, dont’cha think?” Arthur growls, finding a few pieces of dry wood and tossing them into the wood keeper in the fireplace.

“I knew where I was goin.” You argue coldly, anger rising up the back of your neck, making the hair stand. Arthur shakes his head, avoiding your eye contact as he lights a kindle.

“Oh, you did, did you? Then you mind tellin’ me why in the hell we’re stranded in the middle of god-knows-where, then? N’ on Christmas Eve? Dutch sent us to get a goddamn tree and thanks to you, we ain't even got one.” Arthur growls, voice finally rising, even though he’s been trying to keep his composure since you admitted you were lost.

“I– Well you got me all turned around when you took us to the trapper!” You yell, pointing your finger at him angrily, “I had us on the way and then you just had to take us off on some wild fuckin’ goose chase. What even was so important that we had to take an hour-long detour anyway?! How are you gonna blame me when you had to drag me across the state just to what?! Sell a fuckin’ pelt? Make some more money for old Dutch?”

“No!” Arthur roars, standing up from his position on the floor. His anger flares up at your ignorance, “I was savin’ up money to buy your christmas gift—to buy you that goddamn saddle you wanted!!” Arthur’s voice reaches a shockingly loud timbre, and your ears ring. You step back, shocked and mortified by your assumption. Words fail you, and you stutter over them, tears already forming in your eyes at what you’ve done.

“Arthur…” You say, tears forming in your eyes as he brushes past you, towards the door, “Arthur, you can’t go out in that storm.” You protest, but he’s already putting his gloves back on, placing his hat on his head.

“Arthur, I'm sorry. Please don’t go out in the storm.” You plead as he pushes the door open.

“I need some damn air.” He hisses, slamming the door back shut in your face.

Your hand covers your mouth, silencing sobs as you watch him leave from the window. You hear Sugar’s cries as Arthur leads Jasper out of the small stable, and you watch as the gray horse carries Arthur out the main drag, his coat blending in with the downpour of snow and ice.

— — —

You roll onto your side, shivering on the single cot. There’s no blankets, so you do your best to keep warm by curling in on yourself and blowing warm air into your hands, down your coat sleeves. Cold tears slip down your face, your worry growing tenfold with every minute that Arthur doesn’t return. If he’s not back within the hour, you’ll go out into the storm to find him.

You glance at the pocket watch that is clutched between your numb fingers, signaling that he’s been gone for an hour and a half. Your heart seizes in your chest. The wind causes the windows to shake and clamber, and every once in a while, you perk up– hoping it’s Arthur coming back to you. But it never is.

A miserable whimper leaves your lips, and you sit up, cross legged on the bed to steal another glance at your watch. The fireplace gives off just enough light to see, and you push yourself up from the bed to start pulling your boots on. You’ll be damned before you let something happen to Arthur out there, not when it's your fault he’s out there in the first place.

Before you can get your boot on, the door swings open loudly. Arthur steps in, shoving the door shut behind him, stripping his big blue coat off and abandoning it on the floor. You let out a breath of relief, tossing your boots aside to run to him.

“Baby- I’m so sorry for hollerin’ at you. I shouldn’t have left ya here.” Arthur rambles, feeling like a fucking fool. You care none, too relieved to see him here. He holds his arm open, catching you just as you run into them, tears of relief flooding your face.

“Oh, I was so worried, Arthur.” You exhale, crumbling against him.. Lucky for you, he’s always been good at piecing you back together.

“Christ, darlin’, you’re freezin’.” Arthur points out, readjusting and scooping you up into his arms. You lie your head against his chest, arms wrapped around his neck, clinging to him, as he carries you back into the bedroom.

“I’m sorry, Arthur. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I shouldn’t have blamed you.” Your voice cracks.

“Don’t matter, now. Now, I just gotta take care of you.” Arthur whispers, and you sigh with relief. He carries you into the bedroom, tenderly placing you down on the bed.

“Lets get your clothes off. They’re wet, gonna get you sick.” Arthur says, worry deep in his eyes as he begins to undress you. He tenderly peels away each layer of clothing, hanging them over the fireplace mantle to dry. Once you’re bared before him, shivering, he wraps his jacket around your shoulders. It’s warm and dry, and it smells like oak and his favorite brand of expensive cigarettes. You inhale the scent deeply.

“Be warmer if I take mine off, too.” He whispers matter of factly, pulling off his own layers, sliding next to you in the bed.

Arthur winces as you cling to him on the bed. Your limbs are like ice against his skin, and he pulls your back to his chest. His arm wraps around your middle, keeping you anchored to him tightly. Your body fits against Arthur’s so perfectly. Like two puzzle pieces fitting together.

A few moments pass by, with Arthur running his fingers over your hip, rubbing his hand down your thigh, waiting for the skin to warm up.

“Any better?” He asks eventually, voice hoarse, waiting for the answer he knows won’t come. You nod your head, but your teeth chatter. You're shaking like a leaf against him.

“Ya trust me?” Arthur asks. Of course, you nod your head. You trust him with your life, “I’ll warm you up.” He whispers.

You shiver, this time not from the temperature as Arthur slides the jacket down over your shoulder blade. He runs his lips across your shoulder, pressing kisses in a line. His lips distract you from his wandering hand, fingertips trailing down your stomach.

You breathe shakily in anticipation as his fingers reach your throbbing cunt. His skin is hot where yours is cold, adding an extra layer of sensitivity. You flinch when his thick finger bumps your sensitive clit.

“Too much?” Arthur whispers between kisses, his hand drawing away from your skin. You nod.

“We got all the time in the world. Jus’ gotta warm you up proper.” Arthur explains. He repositions himself between your legs, pushing your knees up by your ears, spreading you wide for himself.

“Can’t wait to taste you.” Arthur grumbles, pushing your thighs back even more. You grip the sheets in anticipation as he licks the length of your cunt, coating his tongue in your juices, flicking your sensitive bud with his tongue.

Your stomach seizes, and you whimper.

“Yeah, how’s that? Talk to me, darlin’.” Arthur instructs, his nose rubbing against your clit, his tongue sinking into your heat. Arthur’s beard is tickling your thighs, and his fingertips are teasing along your entrance.

“S’good, Arthur.” You exhale loudly. Your body is already warming up. Your skin is flush with want as he teases you. Arthur’s tongue circles back up to your clitoris, flicking over the bud in languid swipes. You taste so fucking good, he could keep you spread like this forever and never get enough. You would have no qualms with that, happily holding his head between your thighs for the rest of eternity.

He wants nothing more than to keep you spread open like this. To taste you, kiss you. To hear you whimpering and calling his name. He wants to pull orgasm after orgasm out of you, until you’re sleepy and content and sore. He wants to press his cock into you over and over again, to roll his hips into you, stretch you out, fill you up. He wants to watch his cum leak out of you, just to fuck it back inside.

Arthur’s cock twitches, and he groans, slipping two of his fingers into your aching entrance. Feeling how slick they become when he pulls them out, when he pushes them back in, curling them to hit that spot that makes you sing.

“Arthur–” You moan, back arching off the bed. He wraps his free hand over your stomach, pushing you back down to the mattress, “So good. I– Oh, so fuckin’ good, Arthur.”

He smirks, tongue still flicking over your pink, swollen clit. Sucking it between his lips, grazing it with his teeth. It’s more than you can take.

His fingers curl up, squelching as they rock your own juices back into you, brushing up against your fleshy g-spot, teasing it.

“I-” You gasp, “I’m close, Arthur. I- I can’t it’s too much! Too-” You moan, tears of pleasure slipping down your cheek.

And like the pull of a silk ribbon, he's pulling you undone. You're cumming on his fingers, squeezing them within your tight walls. Your clit is seizing against his tongue as you cry out his name, hands digging into his hair, pushing him further against you. You rock your hips against his face, thighs squeezing his ears. Juices gush around his fingers as he works you through your orgasm. Euphoria wracks your brain, picking you up and carrying you to another plane of existence.

When you come down from it, you’re putty in his arms. Limp.

“Easy, baby. Y’okay?” Arthur asks, hand easing up your waist, purposefully avoiding the spots where you’ll be the most sensitive right now. You nod, hands reaching up to his jaw, gripping him and pulling him down towards you.

“Wanna kiss you.” You manage to murmur, soft as silk before his lips are meeting yours.

You can taste yourself dripping from his tongue. Can feel the sticky wetness on his beard as you pull him impossibly closer. His tongue slips into your mouth, infiltrating your senses with the sweet taste of your arousal.

Goosebumps break out across your stomach as Arthur’s knuckles trail up your waist, his thumb tickling a small circle around your stiff, sensitive nipple. It sends pleasure in shockwaves down through you, and you arch your back, pushing your stomach up against his chest. The hair on his chest teases your flushed skin, adding to the pleasure of it all.

“So goddamn beautiful.” Arthur mumbles, pulling away just to get the words out before he’s against your lips again, devouring you.

“Think you can take me now, darlin?” Arthur whispers, lips moving to your jaw, pressing loud kisses along the sharp line. You hesitate. He’s so big. It takes a lot of preparation.

He senses your worry, and then he’s there, reassuring you, praising you, making you feel so good.

“You can take me.” A kiss to your neck, “You do so good, so perfect. You can take it. My good girl.” Arthur mumbles against your skin, hand slipping between your legs, pushing your thighs apart. His fingers slip back into your cunt, first two, then three. You whimper, hands digging into Arthur’s shoulders.

“See? Takin’ my fingers as ya are. My good girl, aint’cha?”

You nod your head, teeth sunk into your bottom lip, “Yes, yes.” You whisper, breathing shakily.

Arthur positions himself over you, slipping his fingers away, and you gasp at the feeling of his thick tip sliding up and down your lower lips. He traces his swollen, rosy tip across your overstimulated clitoris, and your nails dig into his shoulders, a pulse of pleasure rippling up your spine, sending waves down through your bones.

You pay no mind to the weather, to the temperature. It bothers you none now.

His thick, pulsing cock nudges against your entrance, and instinctually you tense, taking in a sharp breath.

“Shh, shh, easy, sweetheart. Relax. You can take it.” Arthur coos against your ear, pressing a kiss to your forehead. It's like being swaddled in a heap of comfort, of safety. You know he’d never lie to you, never hurt you.

“Thata girl.” Arthur hums, grunting deeply as he thrusts just the tip into you. You squeeze him tightly, your walls gripping him, pulling him into you. He could do this all day, stretch you open, stuff his cock into your pretty little cunt, press kisses to your lips and your neck and your nose.

“Fuck, sweetheart. That’s it.” He grunts, pushing himself into you even more. Your back arches, stomach filled with pressure and legs spread open wide, “That’s perfect, so good fr’me.” He moans.

“God, Arthur–” You cry out, a whimpering mess when he starts to rock. He’s splitting you in two, filling you so full, you can barely take him all. His length knocks against your g-spot, surpassing it even and stretching to your cervix.

“Feel-” Arthur groans, “Good?”

You tuck your nose against his chest, nodding, “Fuck, so good, Arthur. You’re so big.”

The boost in his ego ramps up his stamina, and he rocks into you harder, sending the headboard crashing against the wall loudly with every thrust. The rhythm is barely noticeable compared to the sound of the hail beating against the roof.

You’re suddenly glad to be stuck out here, if this is the repercussion. You crave his hands on you, his lips against yours. You want him to bend you over the table, take you against the wall, on the floor. You’re content to have him on every surface of this cabin, just to stay wrapped up in this bliss for a little while longer.

“Easy does it, good girl.” Arthur grunts, face covered in a sheen of sweat, dripping down from a strand of his hair, falling onto your breasts. He fills you with every thrust, his cock carving out the shape of your walls, stretching them to wrap around him perfectly. The signature, wet sound of sex fills the room, drowning out even the storm, yet pale compared to the sound of your mixed moans and breathing.

“M’ close-” Arthur grunts, pace growing quick, cock twitching against your walls. You’re getting close, and he’s there too, grunting and squeezing, gripping your soft flesh. He curses, thrusting hard and deep, hips slapping loudly against yours.

It pushes you over the cliff edge with no abandon, and again, you’re free falling, only kept here by the physical tether that is Arthur holding you. Your walls clench and squeeze, constricting around Arthur’s length. He groans beautifully, the sound cathartic to your ears, sending more blood rushing to your gluttonous core.

“Oh– Arthur!” You scream, gasping for air just to release it all back out in a slew of curses and moans. Your back arches high enough off the bed that your breasts slot against Arthur’s chest. Your body shakes, like a star on the verge of explosion, receiving no mercy as Arthur continues to thrust into you. He’s losing his control, caught off guard by the pulsing and fluttering of your second orgasm. You’re squeezing him so tight, and god– the moans you’re letting out are driving him wild—

And then, his warm, thick cum is flooding you, filling you up as he stutters and shakes above you, “F-Fucck, sweetheart. Takin’ me– so damn well.” Arthur groans, hips pumping into you twice more, arms shaking from strain. He pumps the last of his spend into you, groan dying down into a deep rumble in his chest.

He stills, taking deep breaths along with you, eyes slipping shut. His forehead falls against yours, and he presses a sweet, long kiss to your lips. It sends butterflies to your stomach, even after all this. He pulls back from the kiss, resting his forehead on yours once again.

“That was–” You begin, catching your breath, “damn.”

Arthur chuckles, “We’ll sleep the rest of the night n’ check out the weather in the mornin’. I don't reckon either of us will be cold.”

You huff a laugh, wincing slightly as Arthur pulls out of you. You grimace as his cum leaks back out.

In a few short moments, Arthur has you clean of him. He lies beside you, head resting on your lower stomach as you brush your fingers through his hair.

“Next time we fight, just skip the runnin’ off, and take me to bed, alright?” You whisper, breaking the calm silence. Arthur exhales sharply.

“Yeah, we’ll do that.” He chuckles, gripping your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles.

“You think Dutch will be pissed about the tree?” You ask, referencing the Christmas tree that you’d failed to bring back to camp.

“He surely will be.” Arthur says, “But, I say-” He presses a kiss to your hip, hand wrapping around the inside of your thigh, “to hell with his christmas traditions,” another kiss, “I like this one better.”

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow @holyratrimony @twola

#cowboydisaster's christmas countdown #bea's christmas countdown #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic

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charliework16 · 6 months

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charlie kelly: the gang gets stranded in the woods

#charlie day #its always sunny in philadelphia #charlie kelly #iasip #the gang gets stranded in the woods

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broke-art · 11 months

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SPOILERS WARNING THIS HAS SOME PRETTY HEAVY SEASON FOUR SPOILERS.

M.k practically dragged you towards flower fruit mountain causing you to stumble a bit.

"So you're saying you unlocked a cursed scroll and were attacked by DBK, Iron fan, Spider Queen, Nezha, and some other demons you've never seen before?" Tang asked.

"No," M.k released your wrist allowing you to rub away the slight sore spot he'd left from tugging you along so unexpectedly. "I'm saying we were attacked by INK VERSIONS of DBK, Iron fan, Spider Queen, and all those other ones you just said." He clarified simply as though that was obvious somehow.

You glanced around seeing nothing amiss other than the massive troves of items Monkey king had 'borrowed' in his very extensive lifetime whilst your friends spoke among themselves.

"Well it looks like what ever it was is gone now." You pointed out as kindly as you could without sounding accusing.

M.k dashed about throwing gusts of wind in your face likely without thinking.

"Hey you're right! Whew. No ink demons!" He cheered.

"Hey, I think I found the scroll!" Sandy announced lifting a band of blackened wood pieces rolled together.

"Sandy wait!" M.k yelled as the scroll unfurled.

Instantly black ink spilled from the scroll and thunder clapped.

Sandy released the scroll and the black in absorbed it into it's depths as it grew. Figures began to emerge from the pitch inky depths their eyes shimmering an otherworldly blue that sent a chill through your blood.

"Aight, Tangy!" Mei cheered grabbing Tang and tossing him forward. "You're up!"

Tang stood up and yelled to the mass with what you could only call an empty ultimatum before versions of the gang's ancestors began to appear from the black muck. And just then they attacked.

You released a small scream as the black goo charged at you. The only reaction you had time for was to shoot your arms up Infront of your face when a Jade barrier appeared between you and the goo.

With a small gasp you stumbled backwards flinching as the black liquid slammed against the barrier which never so much as cracked under the barrage.

Suddenly you felt M.k grab your shoulders and yank you backwards just as glowing blue and yellow streaks shot past you creating a barrier of their own.

Just then a large lionesque man stepped past you, M.k, and Mei. He twirled his sword making Mei's eyes go wide.

"Oooo I want that!" She fangirled to herself.

Just then two more figures emerged from the ink a birdlike figure and and elephant one. They shouted simultaneously words you couldn't decipher. But your gaze flicked back to the Lion.

He released a small sigh.

"Forgive me, brothers." He uttered quietly before brandishing his sword. Each swing shot light strands that beat the ink backwards before banishing it altogether. Then he shot out an arm his hand glowing blue.

The scroll took on an aura of the same hue, floated into the air, and a rune appeared above it which seemed to suck the remaining ink back in, then sealed the scroll.

You blinked as the scroll fell into the lion's grasp. His gaze remained on it musingly before both M.k and Mei launched at him slamming into his back.

He slammed into the ground but picked himself up taking his sword in hand.

"Hand over the scroll children."

"No You hand over the scroll!" M.k demanded before Mei corrected him with a whisper in his ear.

"We have the scroll! Now free our friends and we don't have to get physical." He declared correctively.

"You expect me to believe you are not responsible for stealing the scroll despite it being in your possession?"

You listened to your friends go back and forth and basically just watched the lion introduce himself and explain the situation.

Still didn't explain fully but you guessed it was the best you were going to get.

The Azure lion and M.k spoke back and forth eventually coming to the agreement that he and Mei would enter the scroll and retrieve your friends.

"Woah wait?! Are you insane?!" You demanded stepping between them. "We don't even know this guy! He could be using you!"

Azure lion blinked as if taken aback by your comment.

"If we are going to do this, we need to trust each other." He spoke with a gentle reassurance that some how only irked you more.

"Y/n," M.k addressed you stealing your attention. "What other choice do we have?"

You stared at him for a moment. This was insane. You couldn't just trust this lion...man...thing! But then... M.k was right. You had no other choice. And who knew what the scroll would do to your friends the longer they were in there. You breathed out a sigh.

"Fine! But I'm staying here and watching him. Just to make sure he doesn't try anything."

M.k grinned and hugged you.

"Thanks Y/n."

"Alright." The lion smiled at you kindly. "If you wish to stay then I'll need you to stand behind me." He gestured to a spot behind him.

You eyed him warily but walked over. You knelt behind him and if you weren't mistaken saw him smirk before wishing M.k and Mei good luck then releasing the ink which promptly sucked them both into the scroll.

A sick feeling mounted in your chest as he resealed the scroll.

"Now, then all there's left to do is wait." He announced with a tone that seemed resigned. Then he looked over his shoulder at you.

"Y/n, was it?"

Your gaze flicked back to the scroll.

"Is..there a way to check on them?"

The lion smiled then chuckled.

"As a matter of fact, yes. Give me a moment." His eyes flashed with golden light and then he fell very still.

In the moments you guessed he was astral projecting. As his form was similar to his so called 'brother' monkey king.

This chance you took standing and stepping around him so you could observe him more easily.

He had definitive muscle. No one could deny that. He wore a cape and something you could possibly identify as a 'half shirt'.

You frowned.

Something about him seemed.... Insincere. Perhaps not his kindness but something. Something was hidden here. And you were going to find out what.

Just then his golden eyes flicked open causing you to flinch slightly.

He smiled almost amusedly.

"Admiring from a distance are we?"

You felt your cheeks heat but pressed away the reaction, deciding to fold your arms and frown instead.

"No."

His smile remained firmly intact.

"I don't blame you for not trust me. Infact, I count you as wise for such. But still, I have a role to play in aiding you."

"Forgive me if I find it suspicious that you just happened to show up right on time." You shot back suspiciously.

Now his smile fell into a sad frown.

"But I didn't. Your friends were pulled into the scroll regardless of my efforts. Surely, if my arrival was 'right on time' as you say, wouldn't they have been saved?" The information he offered almost humbly.

You sighed. He had a point, a good one at that.

"Perhaps if you gave me a chance to prove myself trustworthy," He smiled hopefully. "Then you could lay your suspicions aside."

You studied him carefully. Nothing about him confirmed your suspicions and something about this was indeed sincere. But what was true and what was false. Nothing in his appearance gave you any clue if anything looking at his muscles was beginning to distract you so you tore your gaze away.

"Alright."

From the corner of your eye you could see him perk up some.

"When my friends are safe, then I'll trust you."

Just then Azure wilted some. It was slight, near inpercieveable, but there. The next instant he was grinning widely.

"Very well then. But...until then-"

You glanced back at him fully.

"Why don't we get to know each other a bit better?" He offered kindly.

Your gaze flicked to the scroll. You didn't really want to sit here in silence until they returned.

"Ok." You agreed sitting across from him.

"Well I'm sure you've heard of me." He grinned proudly.

You allowed your silence to rectify that assumption coupling it with a blank look.

"Ah...I suppose not, but in any case I have introduced myself to some degree. I do believe it's your turn."

You gave a small start.

"Oh...well alright. My name is Y/n L/n technically I'm the grand daughter of the Jade emperor."

Now it was his turn to give a small start his eyes widening quite a bit.

"Oh don't look at me like that." You sighed. "I'm nothing special my mother married a mortal so she was basically cast out of heaven."

Azure hummed.

"I was wondering what power you might possess that would allow you to block the scroll as you did." He held his chin contemplatively. "Are you and your grandfather close?" He rose a brow.

"Not intimately. But I know of him and obviously vice versa." You responded with a shrug.

"How very interesting." Azure mumbled more to himself than you.

"And you?" You urged him to start explaining which seemed to break him from his reverie.

"Ah yes! Well I have many a story to tell, I'm afraid."

You shrugged.

"Not like we've got something else to do."

He grinned then began his story.

As the hours passed you began to be more intrigued by his many stories and admittedly, you were beginning to enjoy his presence.

"Wow, so you defied orders just so that family wouldn't be hurt?" You asked perking up a bit.

"Well of course." Azure replied. "I couldn't very simply let them drown." The sincerity of the statement struck you.

He wasn't lying. Not even a little.

Some part of your heart skipped a beat.

"That's...very kind of you." You smiled.

Azure gave a small start then grew a slightly mischievous smile.

"You think so?"

The low notes of his voice caused your heart to stammer and a flood of heat to rush to your cheeks.

"I-I- you- but- ugh! Of course I think so because it is!" You protested with a huffed.

Azure laughed openly then.

You flinched slightly at the abrupt outburst but relaxed soon after. His laughter was pleasant to listen to.

"Forgive me, y/n." He excused once his laughter died out. "Teasing you is simply an amusement that never becomes tiresome."

Wait never? Seemed a bit early to assume teasing you didn't ever get boring. But you shrugged never the less.

"I can take it. Don't worry."

He grinned.

"Of that I am certain."

Nightfall came and you began to worry. Shouldn't M.k and Mei have finished by now? You weren't sure how friend swiping scrolls worked but you hadn't thought it would take this long.

"Have faith, y/n." Azure spoke suddenly breaking you from your thoughts. "Your friends can do this. They can do it together." He gave you a smile that eased your anxiety some.

"You're right." You nodded. "I can trust them."

Then you continued to wait. Hours slipped by. You and Azure spoke fairly often but as the hour grew later you started to get too drowsy to stay awake.

At some point you must have drifted off to sleep because you awoke a bit later to a soft fabric being drapped over your form.

You opened your eyes slightly only to see Azure stepping away no longer wearing his cloak. A thick warmth enveloped you just then and you slipped off into unconsciousness.

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achaotichuman · 14 days

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Kidnapped by the Faery Queen

TAMLIN WEEK IS HERE AND I AM HAPPY

This is for Day 1- Prompt: Human Tamlin.

For this one, I decided on writing an AU where Tamlin and Feyre's roles are reversed, Tamlin is the human mortal and Feyre is the High Lady.

This fic is mostly Tamlin making dumb decisions and feylin fluff at the end as well as banter between Tamlin & Lucien & Feyre! It focuses mostly on Tamlin's first impressions of the SC and the gang. It doesn't follow the canon events of what led Feyre to Tamlin because idk I wanted to write this instead.

You can read on Ao3, or below the cut!

There was something thundering in his chest, urging him faster and faster and faster. Rocketing through the woods. Passing by trees bending at the trunk like they might keel over. An archway created overhead that dappled the silvery light of the moon. Splashes across the snow like pearls of light. It was clear above, not a cloud to remove the paleness of the mood from the world.

It was dark and cold, and never-ending snow, but he had to run. He had to feel the crunch of grass blades hidden underneath blankets of undisturbed white. He had to feel his muscles ache and burn with warmth as the chill of the air caused his face to flush. Heart racing, an owl cried overhead, its song breaking through the silence of the air. Cutting through like a sewing needle piercing intricate strings of fabric.

He only looked up momentarily to see the flutter of soft wings darting from a tree branch through the air, before the animal was long gone from sight. He quickened his pace. Until he must have been a blur in between the tree trunks. Running with shadows, in the darkest parts of the woods. Deeper and deeper to the heart, he must have looked to be a part of the forest itself. Some indiscernible creature running as if for its life. A spooked deer, a bird flying low to the ground. A lost spirit running through the inbetween of the realms.

Something inhuman and ghastly. Something that children would see from the corner of their eyes and quickly grab their mother’s skirts whilst pointing in between the trees. Only to find the shadow they had seen was long gone.

Eventually he was forced to stop. Legs burning so much the fire seemed to consume his muscles. It was a miracle he was still standing as he hunched over and panted, hands on his knees, heart thundering behind his ribs. Breath fogging in the chilled air. Strands of his golden blond hair fell around his face. Quickly he brushed them behind his hood once more. The rough wool of his gloves harsh on his sensitive, flushed face.

Taking a slow step forward, Tamlin looked through the treelines. Adjusting his thick coat before pulling the bow strapped around him off his back, and drawing an arrow. Instincts telling him he was a fool, an idiot for coming so far out at this time. But he had to get away. The wind that pummelled against the frail glass of his shared bedroom window called to him. Singing his name like a prayer falling from a devout believer. He was helpless but to strap on his weapons, excitedly gathering his gear. Only sparing a second thought to quickly shut the window, lest he wake his older brothers who laid soundly asleep.

But now as he looked around at the dark woods, he realised how stupid he was to come out here tonight. In the cold, where he had nothing but the footprints he made to track his way back home. Even that could quickly be eliminated by more snowfall.

There was a sudden noise from behind him, the sound of a crunch, like a foot on a stick.

Tamlin whipped around, drawing his arrow. Heart racing and preparing to duck for cover.

“Oh.” He whispered into the soft night.

A stag stared at him curiously. It’s beady black eyes shining in the pale light. The majestic antlers gracing its head stuck out in so many twining directions. It had one foot lifted above a broken twig. So still and watching.

Tamlin kept the arrow drawn. Never wavering and never lowering. His body stiller than a slingshot pulled back, ready to be fired. Like his muscles were elastic and stretched to the limit.

Then the stag…

Just turned its head, moving its feet finally, crushing the snow below it as it leisurely strolled back into the woods. Into the darkness and out of sight.

Tamlin’s eyes rolled as he lowered his bow, huffing. Puffs of white clouded in front of his face and he stomped the snow, digging into it until he saw blades of icy green, black in the little light. He must be truly going insane.

Lost to the sensations of cold nighttime, he left the cottage in favour of running blindly into a dangerous woods, where wolves lurked about in the dark hours of morning. He was stupid beyond comprehension. His mother must have dropped him as a child, because there was in no way that a normal person thought the wind called for them.

Unless..

Tamlin snapped up his bow again as a growl vibrated through the woods. Travelling through the air like claws reaching out. It echoed, as another growl joined it, followed by a third and a fourth.

They emerged from the darkness. With fur a dark grey that glimmered in the silvery light. Teether bared and eyes stoking flames. Four powerful wolves circled him slowly.

Tamlin was frozen in place. Muscles locked up as his body went into fight or flight mode. In a moment of utter terror, mind replaced entirely with fear. He ran.

It was a terrible decision, as then the wolves pounced.

Tamlin tried to duck down, screaming. Hoping someone equally as stupid as him had come out here during the night, hopefully with an axe or a mace. A large claw descended on him, and Tamlin screamed again as it slashed his abdomen. Blood poured from his stomach. Soaking his clothes. The four were on him, a pile of raw flesh for the taking. There was nothing he could do as he felt teeth sink into his arm, preparing to pierce flesh.

Then a roar more powerful than any of the snarling wolves shattered the night sky.

The large furred heads of the wolves jutted up, ears falling back, completely flat. The roar echoed again, similar to a snarled warning. They began to whimper and whine.

Then it appeared, and Tamlin felt all the blood drain from his face, nearly fainting on the spot.

Its fur completely white, with black spots covering its hide. Eyes yellow and gleaming. A jaw full of bone white teeth. Scraping black claws across the snow as it prowled forward. Snarling once more.

The wolves barked and whined, and fled. Leaving Tamlin a heap of bloodied human meat. He almost wished the wolves had finished him off, so he wouldn't be faced with the hulking beast walking slowly to him. Its pace taunting, knowing he had no way to get away from it. If he ran, it would catch him. There was no possible route that allowed his mortal legs to outrun this powerful creature.

Soon it was looming above him. Tamlin’s neck ached as he stretched his head up to keep eye contact with the creature. It cocked its head in an almost human manner, as if pondering something.

Only one thought ran through his head, and it just made the situation all the more terrifying.

This is a Fae. This is a Fae. This is a Fae. This is a Fae. This is a Fae.

It was undeniable. The creature was not mortal. It moved too gracefully. Was too pristine. Too big to be any kind of naturally occurring animal. This was a monster from the depths of the Faery lands. And it had crossed the border into these woods.

Horror coursed through his body as Tamlin thought that the calling from the wind was the Faery creature, he truly ran right into a trap.

“Please.” He begged weakly. Blood was rushing too quickly from his wounds. Splattering crimson across the pure white snow. A pattern of scarlet red. Something wet and horrible dripped down his face and Tamlin realised he was crying as he was faced with the terrible creature above him.

But it simply watched, making his fear grow, cold pressed into his body, as the wolves had torn his clothes and revealed skin to the freezing cold. For a moment Tamlin wondered if the monster would let him die first before feasting on his flesh. Faery cruelty. Maybe he would die from pure fear before the bleeding out could take him.

Black swirled in and out of his vision. Until his blinking was coming slower and longer. The beast just watched. Tamlin felt coldness spread up his back, neck and head. He had fallen back into the snow, his eyes could see nothing but darkness, silver and yellow eyes. Before they finally closed, tears dripping hot from the corner of his eyes.

I never said goodbye to anyone, he thought as darkness embraced him.

When he woke up, pain was spidering through his abdomen and arm. Lingering in his body and refusing to release him. He groaned loudly and shifted, trying to feel anything other than the horrid burning sensations in his skin. As he did, there was a flurry of whispering around him. He jolted almost immediately. Especially as he realised he was not in cold snow, but laying amongst the softest sheets he had ever felt.

Opening his blurry eyes he tried to take in his surroundings. First he saw a ceiling above him. Pure white, a large golden chandelier hanging in the centre, not lit as sunlight poured in through the large glass pane windows. Casting long shadows through the room. Tamlin tried to sit up, but his body would not part from the stinging pain that consumed him.

“He is awake, alert the High Lady.” A voice like silk whispered harshly from someone in the room.

“What?” He croaked out, voice rough from disuse, he grabbed the sheets in his hands, balling them in his fists. He was squirming as he tried to sit up.

“Hush child, you are safe.” That same silk voice murmured, now closer.

Tamlin managed to crane his neck to the side and there he saw the source of the voice.

He screamed.

Jumping up from the bed, the adrenaline briefing ridding him of the burning pain. He sat up quickly and scrambled away from the right side of the bed. As he stared and stared at the creature looking back at him with a sudden, shocked expression.

Tamlin fell off the side of the bed, onto a soft fluffy mat. He looked around quickly, hearing quick footsteps towards him. He tried to scramble under the bed, just to get away, but she was there again before he could hide.

“You…” His voice left him as he stared, and wondered if his sudden outburst would anger the undoubtedly Faery creature standing before him.

He swallowed hard, tears wetting his eyes, but he blinked them away the best he could. Trying to reach for anything that could be used as a weapon.

Instead, however, of being offended, the woman- or whatever she was- simply put a hand on her hip. Tilting her head to the side, causing wiry brown hair to fall down the side of her shoulder. Her bark-skinned shoulder.

Her skin looked rough to touch. Textured with some knots like in a trunk. As if carved from wood. Though her eyes were filled with life. She raised an eyebrow, causing the texture of her skin to shift as she did.

“I will not hurt you, human.” She said, gently but firmly. Like a mother coaxing a child to come to her.

Tamlin swallowed again, then managed to stammer out, “Why should I believe you, Faery?”

He spat the word with venom. Faeries were creatures that hunted, killed and tortured innocent humans for stupid crimes that could not be considered as such. Like walking into Faery rings, or accidentally getting involved with Faery deals.

She sighed heavily, chest rising and falling. Holding out a hand, she said, “Call me Alis, child.”

“Alis?” He repeated. Then cursed himself, he shouldn’t so much as speak to the creature before him. Yet he continued to stare at her.

She nodded, hand still held out, as if offering it. Tamlin bared his teeth and huddled further away, curling in on himself.

Her head shook and her length of hair shook with it. Turning away from the human man. She went for the door. Opening it up, Tamlin heard the sounds of shouting, crashing and swearing. He flinched hard and ducked further away from the door. Alis sighed lightly, then looked back over at him, “Someone will come soon to prepare you.”

“Prepare me-” Tamlin tried to ask, but before he could, she closed the door. As it clicked shut, Tamlin stared at the bronze handle. Then at the dark oak door itself, before looking around the room.

It was beautiful, that was for certain. All dark, polished wood, bronze and gold. The sheets of the bed were silk, emerald green and the curtains were sheer. The window closed.

Finally, on shaking legs, Tamlin stood, grunting as he grabbed the nearby nightstand for support as the burning pain returned in full. Though dulling as the seconds were by. When he touched his stomach where the slash had been, and found not only was he wearing a different set of clothes, but there was a bandage with some kind of salve over his skin.

Tamlin pulled at the new shirt. It was sleep wear, just a white shirt and soft green pants. He felt his entire body go completely red as he realized someone had undressed and redressed him.

What the fuck was this place? He wrapped his arms around himself, human instincts begging to run and find a place to hide.

Some kind of Faery world. Some kind of place he would no doubt be tortured or hunted for sport. As the stories all liked to go.

Slowly Tamlin sat down on the soft coverlet. Not quite sure where to go from here. What to do. Alis, if she had even given him her real name, said someone would come prepare him.

Prepare him for what?

Tamlin’s first thought was he was going to be turned into some kind of stew. His next thought was he would be dragged out for entertainment. Forced to dance on hot coals until he died or something like that. His toes curled and his body shook as terror seized him once more.

In a wave of energy and the need to get away, Tamlin stumbled for the large and, more importantly, unlocked, window. His bruised fingertips grappled with the frame for a moment before he managed to pull them open.

But when he looked over the edge, his eyes widened when he saw how far up he was from the ground. Far below him, gardens roamed the grounds. Large and spread out. Dappled with colours of all sorts and looking like chaos incarnate. Spread out like twisting, festering vines, roots and branches. With patches of sweet-smelling flowers hidden in between.

Tamlin tossed a look back over at the room. And decided a death by falling would be better than whatever the Faeries had in store for him. So with gritted teeth and while silently cursing his own stupidity. Tamlin leaped over the edge, grabbed onto a nearby ivy plant clinging to the wall and swung away from the window sill.

He swallowed a shout, and quickly found footing in the green netting like plant. Hands burning as he gripped the ivy. He began a quick descent. Even as the branches gave way under his hands, he moved as fast as he could so as to get away before anyone noticed his disappearance.

A cut, a cussing fit, and three new bruises later. The ivy gave out underneath him and Tamlin thumped to the ground with another hissed curse. Luckily he hadn’t been more than three feet off the ground.

Groaning quietly as he picked himself off the floor. Tamlin dusted his shirt from the dirt and wiped as much of the mud smeared on his cheek off as possible. Finally he got to his wobbling legs and looked around.

The gardens looked more like a labyrinth than gardens. Winding around and around, with walls of bushes and large trees bent over like they couldn’t handle standing straight. Moss collected on rocks and stone made pathways through the maze of sweet smelling lands.

It was Springtime.

But they had just been in winter. Spring wasn’t for yet another month.

Another Faery trick. Some kind of magic he wanted no part of. Tamlin snarled at the lily of the valley near him, as if they were directly responsible for him being in Faery territory.

A trick of some sort, to lead him to a trap. Tamlin squeezed his hands into fists and began to walk silently through the gardens. Treading carefully and making absolutely sure he would not break so much as a twig underfoot. His heart thumped behind his rips, rocketing through his body, pulsing in time with each step.

Soon, he turned a corner and was met with a sight more lovely than he had ever seen before.

A courtyard of some kind. Flowing fountains, and trimmed hedges lined the grounds. He saw the extent of the… mansion he had been taken to. Carved from marble and stone. Detailed carefully and so much larger than any house he had ever seen. Tamlin baulked at the sheer size of the place he was in. Everything seemed so much bigger than him, reducing him to the comparable size of an ant.

He nearly stumbled back, but was pulled back into where he was and the danger he was in. Tamlin’s mouth pulled into a snarl and he quickly ducked away from the open area, hiding in between bushes and trees and winding through the rest of the gardens. Trying to find some way out of here.

He found that the grounds were so large and trying to find his way out of them was like being trapped in a maze. As it was he wound up in some kind of small woods. Large tall oaks loomed above him, but he could still smell the pollen behind him, and didn’t know whether he had left the grounds or these woods were still part of the mansion.

Tamlin ignored the knots twisting tighter and tighter in his stomach as he marched forward in the general direction of South, (or what he hoped was South). He ignored the chill that spread over his skin, making his mind beg to turn back. He kept going further and further and further, until it was looking dark above, maybe that was the thick brush getting thicker and thicker as he went.

It was nerves he told himself, not real, just flight or fight making him jumpy.

But as he went further, he could have sworn something like a finger brushed his shoulder. Tamlin leapt away with a shout. Brushing off his clothes like he was trying tog et rid of a bug. His body kept washing over and over with fear so intense it paralysed him. Shaking, stumbling back he scanned the world but saw nothing at all.

Nothing, it was nothing, just nerves or a bug that had fallen on him. It had to be, there was nothing else out here.

Still he picked up the pace, going faster and faster and faster until he broke out into a sprint, heading further and further into the dark forest. Running for his life, trying to reach the border, to get back to his family, to his world. Not this place. Anywhere but this terrifying place.

Then more chills fell down his spine, rolling through his like waves lapping at a sandy shore. Tamlin stumbled but kept running, not turning back, not looking back for a single second.

Something like a hand reached out, brushing his hair and shoulder, wrapping around his neck. A scream curled in his throat and he grabbed a branch as he ran, tearing it away and keeping it like a sword at his side. Still whatever was behind him started to whisper. Cruel cold words he didn’t understand but knew anyway, threats, promises of eating him alive.

A roar, a roar that he remembered from the night, however long ago it was, he had been kidnapped.

It rattled the ground, Tamlin fell to the floor, scraping his knees and elbows, but not caring as the land shuddered. The trees around him seemed to bend to the sound. Whatever had shattered the sky once more had power here and it rippled through the world.

All at once the whispering ceased, and a shriek of terror and pain ripped through the world. Tamlin hid under a large root and curled in on himself, hiding away, not daring to even breath loud.

In a second it was over, and silence filled the air once more. But only for a single second, before a low growl tore the ground and footsteps followed, getting closer, and closer, and closer.

He didn’t have many options. None at all really.

Tamlin clung to the stick he had grabbed, and as a huff of warm air from around the shelter of the root breathed over him. A rush of adrenaline fueled his body.

Tamlin leapt up from underneath the root, with barely a second to spare he pulled the stick and launched it at the creature with all the might in his body.

It hit the beast’s jaw with a thud, followed by a roar of pain from the creature as it stumbled back, reeling from the hit.

Tamlin took no time in pondering how he had just signed his death warrant. Instead he took off through the woods. Rocketing through at lightning speeds, desperately forcing his way through the brush. The beast shouted a battle cry once more as it raced after him. He could hear it pounding behind him on all fours.

He was prey in a trap, little more than game to be hunted.

Tamlin ran faster and faster and faster-

He smacked into a very hard, very solid form and fell back on the ground.

Reeling with dizziness. Tamlin forced his way up, thinking he had hit a tree.

The idea he smacked into a tree was quickly shattered as a sly voice crooned from above him, “Well isn’t this interesting? We were looking for you, little fawn, and here you are running right back to us.”

Tamlin forced his eyes up and his eyes went wide. A tall man grinned wickedly down at him, dark skin gleaming in the sunlight above, red hair spilling down his back and shoulders like waves of scarlet. His face was half covered by a gilded fox-shaped mask. Underneath a scar over his right eye was plain to see, inside the eye socket instead of a normal eyeball, was instead a golden contraption that mimicked his other eye.

It seemed the tree he had hit was the man’s chest. Tamlin felt himself go very red, then white as he saw the long pointed ears sticking out from in amongst the locks of crimson.

He scrambled back, but the fox masked man just raised an eyebrow, “Don’t run away again, little fawn, it won’t go well for you.”

Tamlin snarled as he got to his feet and pulled up his stick with him, holding it like a sword, “Get the fuck away from me.”

Little fawn, they were matched in height, granted Tamlin hadn’t eaten a full meal in who knew how long so they weren’t quite matched in build. But Tamlin had never been a man to look down upon.

Except this creature wasn’t man. Rather Faery creature.

Tamlin tried not to let his fear show.

However, the Faery seemed less inclined to toy with him, instead turning his eyes to something behind Tamlin, “Feyre! I found your wayward doe, ran right to me.”

Tamlin went completely still as heavy footsteps thundered behind him. The beast, he had forgotten about the beast.

Tamlin bared a glance over his shoulder and there it stood. As terrifying and horrible as when he had seen it scare away those wolves from tearing him to shreds. It was so, so much bigger than him. With those glinting yellow eyes that glared down at them.

Tamlin felt like passing out. But held his ground as he tried to step away, to get away.

But he hit the Faery behind him again, and quickly reeled away. The fox-masked man cackled, and Tamlin kept looking in between the beast and the Faery.

Caught between a rock and hard place, with no escape.

Shit.

In a split second, as Tamlin considered just making a break and running for it. There was a sudden glow of gold, a brightness that had Tamlin shielding his eyes, it was gone in a moment, and suddenly he heard quieter steps coming toward him.

“Yes, yes, an applause for you Lucien.” A snarky voice quipped.

“I do try,” The fox-masked man, Lucien, said.

Tamlin, however, did not look at Lucien, supposedly, behind him as his eyes went astronomically wide as he saw who now replaced the form of the beast.

In the glow, fur had turned to skin and horns had disappeared. Paws were now hands and yellow eyes had turned to blue ones.

A woman stepped out towards him. In a green tunic with a quiver of arrows on her back, as well as a bow. Her boots thudded against the ground, and her braid of brown hair slung over her shoulder. Her eyes were cold as she walked towards him. Face half hidden, like Lucien, by a mask. This mask however, was gilded gold and shaped like the face of the beast. Her eyes kept glancing at the stick in his hand, a drop of blood welled on her jaw, the small scratch quickly beginning to heal itself.

It seemed Lucien caught quickly on to why the stick was in Tamlin’s hand and why the female Faery had a slight scratch on her jaw a sudden cackle was torn from him, “Oh, the human got you in the jaw, Feyre? Isn’t that something Alis will be dying to hear of.”

“Quiet Lucien,” Feyre, the beast, said, narrowing her eyes in a predatory way.

“But it’s so much fun to speak.” Lucien said.

Feyre ignored him as her eyes went back to Tamlin, “You escaped your rooms, how?”

Tamlin snarled, and lifted the stick again like he might try to strike her and run. His mother had driven it into him to never hit girls, but his brothers had driven it into him to give back what people gave him.

And in this moment, he thought killing a Faery in order to escape a kidnapping sounded pretty even for what they had given him.

“Feisty eh?” Lucien crooned.

Feyre let out a slow release of breath through her nose, then her eyes turned back to Lucien, “Take him back to Rosehall, have the servants prepare him for supper.”

So they were going to turn him into stew.

“Now, little fawn, no need to go so pale, no one will be eating you.” Lucien said as he prowled around to face Tamlin, practically reading the thoughts going through his head. Lucien then looked him up and down slowly before adding, “Not in that regard at least.”

“Don’t be crass.” Feyre chided, waving her hand, “I’ve had enough of hide and go seek, take him back and lock the windows this time.”

“Wait-” Tamlin started, but Lucien just rolled his eyes at Feyre and grabbed his arm. Tamlin tried to reef it away, but all of a sudden he was swept into darkness.

It felt like he was falling through flames, through dark flames that wouldn't burn him. It only happened for a few seconds before his knees hit wood and he looked around to find himself back in the room he had woken up in. Lucien was standing above him as Tamlin tried to catch his breath after having it stolen from his lungs.

“Get him dressed… and somewhat clean.” Lucien ordered someone in the room.

“Yes my lord,” A male voice responded. Tamlin looked up to see a sweet-faced boy with blue skin and fluttering wings. He had long black hair and black eyes. Despite the terrifying Faery features, he seemed gentle and kind.

“Good, have him ready in fifteen minutes, sundown approaches.” Lucien started to head for the door.

“Stop!” Tamlin shouted, causing the red-head to look back over his shoulder.

“Where am I?” Tamlin asked, needing to know, to have some idea.

Lucien gave a small smirk, “Why you’re in Prythian, little fawn, welcome to the Spring Court.”

Without another word, he opened the door and closed it behind him.

Tamlin looked up at the Faery servant, who smiled gently.

Tamlin met the gesture with a growl.

In hindsight, he made the poor man’s life so much harder than it needed to be. But either he expected it, or was used to it, as whenever Tamlin refused to cooperate, it was met with indifference and repetition of whatever order he had been given. Whether that be to take off his shirt, sit still for his hair to be brushed, or to even get into the sweet-smelling bathwater.

He felt a little like an obstinate toddler, but for the Gods sakes, they had kidnapped him. Who in their right mind thought he, of all the people in the world, would go along with this easily?

The blue Faery only said they had all night whenever Tamlin sat on the floor and glared at the wall. Tamlin reminded him with a snappy tone that they only had fifteen minutes, his words were met with silence, which only served to anger him further.

Somehow, through patience and a lot of counting to ten, the blue Faery had him clean and sitting at a vanity, glaring at him through the mirror as his nimble finger braided his unruly blond hair into a long braid.

“You know I was forced here too.” The blue Faery said. At that Tamlin blinked suddenly.

“What?”

“I come from another land, another Court. The Court of Summer. I was forced to leave when my village was struck. The bandits that plundered my father’s house killed every living person, but missed me as I escaped through the window with my sister.”

“Oh.” Tamlin said, not really knowing how to react.

“Mm,” he hummed, “We had not a mark on us. We didn’t know where we were going. Our village was the closest to Spring, we accidently crossed over here, into the Spring Court and had no choice but to go further in, hunger pushed us, and my sister died on the walk through the woods.”

“I…” Tamlin suddenly felt incredibly guilty for the way he had been acting, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I carried her all the way through Spring, until eventually the High Lady found me whilst she was patrolling with sentries. Her majesty, bless her reign, took me in and gave me a job in her household. My sister had a proper burial and I have lived here ever since.”

Tamlin fiddled with his fingers. Watching the Faery behind him as his fingers began to weave daises through the braid, “That must have been… scary.”

“It was, I didn’t like being here at first, even though I was just met with kindness. I snapped at a lot of people and worked as alone as I could. But after long enough I grew to love my new position. And I am thankful to the Lady for rescuing me.”

“That’s… that’s good.”

He smiled into the mirror, “Did you have any family?”

Did, as if they were dead, gone, as if he would never see them again.

He supposed he wouldn’t. Not now that he is here.

Not that the family he did have were much of a family.

“Sort of.” Tamlin mumbled, “My two older brothers and my father.”

He nodded, “I see.”

The Faery looked at him as if he expected Tamlin to continue, when Tamlin just stared back blankly he looked back down at the braid he was making. Tamlin cast his eyes down to his rough fingers, scarred from times he had nicked the skin with arrows.

“There.” He eventually said, “All ready.”

Tamlin looked at his reflection, and barely recognised it.

His skin was clean and gleaming with hydration from the obscene amount of creams and oils the Faery had forcibly rubbed into his body. His hair was for once, untangled and smooth, braided nicely with some curls peeking out. His hair was curly from his mother’s side, whilst he had his father’s pale complexion. He inherited the impossible curls from his mother.

The clothes he wore weren’t stained or torn, rather pressed. A white shirt and green waistcoat with golden detailing. Brown trousers, with shiny dark brown, leather shoes. All of it worth more than his brothers would say he was worth. Though his brothers liked to say if they sold him for two marks, someone would bargain for lower.

“It's time to go.” The blue Faery said, waving him up from the vanity. This time, Tamlin stood with no complaints, which the Faery seemed to be pleased with.

“What’s your name?” Tamlin found himself asking. Mentally slapping himself.

“Tain.” He replied, “Yours?”

“Tamlin.” Tamlin murmured.

“A pleasure to serve you, Tamlin.” Tain said, bowing his head.

“A pleasure to meet you, Tain.” Tamlin replied, awkwardly bowing his head, not quite sure what to do.

Tain quickly took him to leave the room. Opening the creaking door Tamlin saw the glorious extent of the interior of the manor.

It was all gilded and polished and glowing. Large windows with sunlight flooding the halls. Paintings filled the walls. And the white and black chequered tiles in the hallways were covered by handmade, intricate rugs.

It was all so expensive looking Tamlin found himself open-mouth gawking at it. More than once Tain had to snap at him to close his mouth and move quicker.

Tamlin obeyed, still reeling a little from Tain’s story.

It was in no time at all that they were going down a flight of stairs and walking to a room down a hallway, which had the large door wide open, and the sound of two voices arguing flowing from it.

“You didn’t think to lock the window!” A woman shouted.

“I didn’t think a human could scale down four stories!” A man shot back.

“I told you to take precautions-” The woman started to reply before she cut herself off.

Tamlin and Tain rounded the corner into the room, and Tamlin found himself staring at the two who had caught him earlier.

Feyre, the beast who had kidnapped him and scared him two ways to death, was sitting at the head of the table. Wearing a gold and green tunic with trousers similar to his own, only more tailored. Her hair, instead of in a braid, was flowing down in waves over her back, with a ring of gold around her head. She leaned her cheek against her head as she looked from Tamlin to Lucien. Her fingers tapping her mask.

Lucienn was standing behind the seat on Feyre’s right. His eye clicked as he looked over Tamlin. Wearing a blue, fitted tunic and black pants. Rings covering his fingers, and his hair braided back. He regarded Tamlin with a grin, “Tain you work magic once again.”

“Thank you my lord.” Tain bowed low at the waist.

“Thank you Tain, you may retire.” Feyre said.

“Thank you, my High Lady.” Tain said, still bowing. After a second, he stood straight and left the room.

High Lady. Tamlin whipped his eyes back to Feyre, who regarded him with a look of boredom.

So this was the High Lady, the mistress of this house.

Of this… Court.

Lucien slunk down into his seat, not seeming to need confirmation from his Lady. He crossed one leg over the other, and tapped his finger against the arm of his chair, he looked over at Feyre and half-discreetly cleared his throat.

Feyre shot him a withering glare before looking back at Tamlin, leaning back in her chair and she looked him up and down, “You didn’t manage to escape again.”

Lucien cleared his throat again, louder this time. Tamlin scrutinised him with big green eyes. Feyre glared at him.

The High Lady, or whatever she was, turned back to him, “What was your name?”

Lucien’s eye roll was made audible by the clicking of his eye. Feyre’s eye twitched rapidly.

“Why should I tell you that?” Tamlin spat with venom on his tongue.

“Because if you don’t this is going to be a lot harder for you.” Feyre snarled at him.

“My Lady.” Lucien murmured in warning.

Feyre let out something between a sigh and a hiss, “My name is Feyre, his is Lucien.” She said as she jutted a fork towards Lucien.

“I gathered.” Tamlin said deadpan.

“You know our names, so I must know yours.” Feyre said, “So?”

Tamlin wondered if that was some kind of Faery bargain exchange, he considered not answering but the look of growing frustration on Feyre’s face told him to just say it, there wasn’t much he would be able to hide for long if he was to be some sort of slave here.

“Tamlin.” He said, “My name is Tamlin.”

“Like the ballad?” Lucien asked, “The Ballad of Tam Lin?”

“Exactly like the Ballad of Tam Lin.” Tamlin watched Lucien from the corner of his eye.

“Something your mother liked then.” Feyre murmured as she watched Tamlin.

Tamlin furrowed his brow, “What?”

Feyre shrugged, “I am assuming your father didn’t come up with the name, so your mother did, meaning she liked the Ballad of Tam Lin.”

Tamlin swallowed, “It was her favourite.”

Feyre hummed in acknowledgment, and from the corner of his eye Tamlin saw Lucien give something like an encouraging nod.

The High Lady sighed quietly and jutted her head to the seat at her left, as she dug her fork and knife into the plate of steaming food before her, “Sit.”

Tamlin remained standing, after a minute passed, Feyre looked up at him through her eyebrows, “Sit.” She commanded again.

Tamlin crossed his arms and met her scowl with obstinance.

Unlike Tain, Feyre did not care for his antics, nor cared for patience.

Something that felt like invisible hands grabbed him, even when he screamed and thrashed, they didn’t relent, pulling him to sit in that seat, then tying him to the chair with invisible ropes. He struggled and pulled and kicked but Feyre just went back to eating. Only Lucien made a slow head turn to Feyre with a look of barely concealed anger. She just shrugged the red-heads expression off.

“Let me go!” Tamlin shouted.

“Eat.” She ordered.

“I refuse.” He said.

“Then starve.” She hissed, “Either way you are not moving.”

“I believe what the High Lady means.” Lucien cut in, “Is that you have to eat eventually, so please would you eat what has been prepared.”

“That isn’t exactly what I meant.” Feyre mumbled through a mouthful of thick steak.

Even through his stubbornness, Tamlin felt his stomach growling with hunger, he hadn’t eaten anything other than stale crackers and some boiled potatoes in two months. And what he ate before that was little more than tomato soups and salted meat.

Magic took the plate before him, lifting it with invisible hands and filling it with the meat, vegetables, breads and fruits from the feast before him, before setting it down before him.

Tamlin stared at the dinner, and his mind went back to what could be happening back in the cottage.

Remembering the inventory of their kitchen, there were a few boxes of crackers left and some jars of preserved vegetables he had managed to convince his brothers not to eat until the dead of winter, when they would undoubtedly get snowed in and be unable to hunt for any meat.

Those jars would be gone in a matter of days without Tamlin to mediate his hungry brothers from taking them. Neither had ever cared for long-term survival, not since they fell into poverty.

“Eat.” The High lady ordered again.

Tamlin scowled, but when he tugged his right hand, it was released. He took up a fork and began to stab at a roasted carrot.

“Does the carrot owe you money, Tamlin?” Lucien asked with a laugh in his voice.

Tamlin shot him a frightful glare and the laughing from his eyes fell away into annoyance, he looked at Feyre and mumbled, “God really did make two of em.”

“Shut your two-faced mouth, Lucien.” Feyre said as she too stabbed at her vegetables.

Tamlin breathed something of a laugh, at which both of their heads shot up to stare at him.

The almost laugh was strangled in a second as he growled low again and shoved the mutilated carrot in his mouth.

Feyre snarled something softly at Lucien and he just grinned at Tamlin, taking a fork and elegantly piercing a potato.

“So, Tamlin, you wandered to our side, where were you before that?” The fox like Faery asked with a sly look in his eyes. Tamlin didn’t trust it for a second.

“Why would I tell you that?” He nearly spat.

Lucien shrugged, “Making conversation.”

“Enough, Lucien.” Feyre said, “We don’t need to listen to your quibbling while we’re eating.”

“Says the great chatterbox High lady.” Lucien said with an eyeroll. Feyre answered with narrowed eyes and a claw appearing on the edge of her finger. Lucien quietened down but not without mumbling something about ‘dramatics.’

A few minutes past in a tense silence. One that had Tamlin’s muscles coiling tighter and tighter with every passing second.

Finally all the tension seemed to snap in him and he asked, “Why am I here?”

Both Faeries went still, too still, in a way that Tamlin couldn’t see a flicker of movement, not even in their breathing. It unnerved him and suddenly he wished he hadn’t asked.

Feyre glanced at Lucien before she ultimately said, “You listened to the singing winds and came to us, but that you are bound to our world.”

The answer made little sense to him. Tamlin found his eyes narrowing even further, “You tricked me.”

Feyre scoffed, “Tricked? The singing winds send out a song every seven years, it isn’t our fault that your kind doesn’t want against our magic playing.”

***

Sitting at the edge of a brook, Tamlin picked up a smooth, round stone. Briefly running his thumb over the surface. Barely a rough spot on its steel grey top. Casting green eyes over the gentle stream of crystal clear water running in between rocks and over slopes, heading downhill into the forest. He aggressively tossed the rock into the water, watching it splash. Droplets splattered across the sleeve of his white shirt.

Footsteps echoed behind him, making him jolt slightly, he cast his eyes over his shoulder and saw the form heading for him.

Her hair was in it’s usual braid, hanging behind her hair. Pretty face carved with lines of exhaustion, her stormy eyes were softer than usual, having a kinder tint to them. Her hands were folded neatly behind her. Wearing brown hunting pants and a green tunic with a bow and quiver of arrows strapped to her back. Her belt was filled with hunting knives, all carved to the handle resembled the bud of a rose.

Tamlin turned back around, another stupid decision, to turn his back on a Faery creature. But he had so far been here a month and they hadn’t killed him yet.

Feyre sat down beside him. Spreading one leg out and bending the other up.

“So.” She started, her voice a gentle hum, though there was an air of awkwardness as she tried to come up with what to say, “how has your day been so far?”

Tamlin threw her a suspicious look, narrowing his eyes as he hesitantly responded, “Fine.”

She nodded, meeting his glare with an almost glare of her own before she seemed to catch herself and turned back to the bubbling brook.

“You like hunting right?” She asked, seeming to find something to talk about.

At that he cast her a strange look, “Where did you get that idea?”

She shrugged as she leaned back on the palms of her hands, stretching out both legs, “You had a bow and quiver full of very sharp arrows that day I found you in the woods. You seemed to know how to handle them. Therefore you must hunt.”

He answered the Faery with a shrug of his own, drawing some kind of stick figure in the ground, “I hunt out of necessity.”

She blinked at that, tilting her head in a near animalistic manner. It caused Tamlin’s heart to start thumping against his ribcage, like an animal remembering they were prey in a dog’s kennel.

“Interesting.” She murmured. A ray of sun peeked through the folds of the leaves above and shone across Feyre’s face. Her freckles seemed to glow in the gold in the air. She lifted her chin up ever so slightly, as if basking in the added warmth on her.

Tamlin looked away again as his heart kept beating faster and faster.

***

“You’re kidding.” Tamlin hid his own laugh behind his palm.

Feyre flopped back into the grass behind her, crushing wildflowers. They framed the back of her glowing, locks of burnt honey hair. She grinned up at him with sparkling eyes, “Nope. I scared that fox so much he grabbed the chandelier.”

“I didn’t think he’d be so easily spooked.” Not at all, though it was a very fun idea to think of Lucien being scared shitless by Feyre appearing out of a closet so suddenly. Tamlin stared down at the Faery woman below him. She held his eyes as her hand lifted off the soft grass. Brushing a golden strand behind his ear.

“How are you faring here?” She asked in a quieter voice.

As the months had gone on, Tamlin had found himself getting more and more used to this new world. Coming to a deeper understanding that he wasn’t going home and quickly learning to not mourn that fact. It was nice that he didn’t have to share a bed with his horrible brothers any longer, but the fact that he could not know for certain if his family was fine did eat away at him a little.

“I am concerned for my family, but I am learning how to live here.” Tamlin revealed, a sliver closer into him. He had been letting her get closer and closer. Feyre hadn’t at first seemed someone to care about what went on in his head, but as the days went on, he found himself more and more drawn into her.

Feyre gave a small smile, “If it's of any condolences. I did have quite the sum of money sent to them.”

Tamlin’s eyes suddenly snapped down to Feyre once more, “What?”

“After I figured out about your family, and where they were located, I sent them money, a nice house and a carriage. They are well-cared for.”

“How…” How did she find them?

Feyre just winked, “Call it magic.”

“You are…” Tamlin let out a breathless laugh as he lightly smacked her arm. She laughed hard, as she forced herself to sit up. To look over the rolling hills, grazing the edge of the horizon. The sun setting in the distance allowed for oranges, reds, purples and pinks to pain the sky with a thousand different brush strokes. Tamlin watched it all with a cocked head, before he turned to Feyre. What he saw made him blink as he watched her.

Her eyes were set on the horizon and on the myriad of colours. The sheer amount of diversity in the sky seemed to make her light up. She folded her arms around her knees as she stared off into the distance. Seemingly oblivious to anything or anyone outside of it.

“I would paint this.” Feyre sighed.

“You paint?” Tamlin asked, another strange thing he had learned about the Faery. He tucked it away in the deep corner of his mind.

“Yeah.” Feyre hummed. Before she quickly straightened out and her face went blank.

“I used to,” She clarified, “then… then a blight came over Prythian and I just haven't had the time for such things anymore.”

“Why don’t you paint now?’ Tamlin asked.

“Excuse me?” Feyre reacted before Tamlin even realized he had blurted the words out. His stupid tongue revealing his own stupid thoughts. Only to be born with a filter.

‘I said.” Tamlin started to repeat, “Why don’t you paint right now?”

She blinked again at him, those big eyes boring into him as she studied his frame.

“Maybe,” A small smile graced her lips, “You think I should?”

“Yes,” Tamlin answered, “I absolutely think you should.”

‘I want you too,’ He was trying to say. ‘I want you too.’

“Okay,” she said, “Okay then.”

With a wave of her hand suddenly a sketchbook appeared as well as a tray of paints and water and brushes. She glanced over at Tamlin's curious eyes as she picked up a brush.

She smiled gently, more gentle than any smile he had seen from her yet, she grabbed a nearby brush and with another flick of her wrist another sketchbook appeared in her hand. Feyre handed it over to him, causing Tamlin to furrow his brows.

What's this for? He asked.

“For you,” she said with an eye roll to which Tamlin shook his head.

“I don't paint.”

You can try,” Was all she answered with.

Who was he to argue with that?

So he did.

He did paint and he was awful at it, in fact it was a monstrosity that they both laughed at until their stomach hurt. Tamlin let the sketchbook in his hands slip onto the grassy floor, not wanting to look at the horror of pink and blue he had created any longer. He glanced over Feyre's shoulder. Where she was hunched over herself, painting with quick, precise strokes that mesmerized him.

And the work she made, the painting itself... Dear God.

The brush strokes were never ending, and the color blended into the page creating a timeless, seamless picture. Near a replica of the ever-fading sunset before them. Tamlin stared at the picture, the rolling hills and dark trees on the horizon. The buttery sun fading away and giving off a gradient of colors that eventually etched the night sky and the twinkling stars started to spot like the freckles on Feyre's face.

Tamlin awe must have shown on his face for Feyre blushed hard and coughed, “It's not that good but I-”

“Feyre look at my painting then at yours and tell me yours isn’t good again.” He told her, never taking his eyes off the sketch in her hands.

Feyre laughed hard at that, and Tamlin decided something right there and then.

Maybe being kidnapped by a Faery Queen wasn’t all that bad.

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