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dreamlandreader · 13 days

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Hounds of Love

Part One

Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Eris Vanserra storms through the woods in a rage, the last thing he expects to come across is a beautiful fae who is heading right into the path of his father. Eris knows he can’t just stand by and watch this oncoming storm, but in helping this gentle soul, he may have to sacrifice more than he bargained for.

Content Warning - Parental abuse, parental illness, off screen injury caused by a dog (very briefly mentioned).

A/N: Here it is - the piece that landed me with major writers block for weeks and weeks on end and then got stalled because life got in the way! Inspired by the song Hounds of Love by Kate Bush and Feyre’s encounter with the water wraith in ACOMAF✨

Part two will be out soon 💖 Hope you enjoy 💖

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The hounds of love are hunting, I’ve always been a coward, and I don’t know what’s good for me …

In the limited light of the quickly setting sun a furious male and his hounds stalked through the trees.

The bronze leaves shivered in the wake of the Autumn Court heir, who bustled past in a burning rage. Embers of fire flickered at his fingertips as he watched his hounds run wild and free with a glint of jealousy burning in his warm eyes.

Eris Vanserra was sick. Sick of his court which became more and more suffocating by the century. Sick of his title which kept him tethered to this land. Sick of his father, at whose hands he now bled.

It had become a regular routine over the years, the way his father would manipulate and berate and twist the knife until Eris could bear it no longer and his calm exterior would shatter. Beron, unimpressed by his son’s outburst, would then beat him back into submission, and Eris would take it until his father got bored. Then he would slip out into the woods with his hounds, using the space to breathe, and to prevent himself from burning the whole damn court to the ground.

As Eris stormed, the yowls of his hounds swirled around him, twigs snapping beneath their heavy paws as they ran and ran. Eris was all consumed plotting his father’s demise. He knew it was only a matter of time before one of them destroyed the other, and he would be damned if he gave up without a fight.

Lost in his own thoughts it took a few seconds for Eris to notice the sudden silence. The excitement of his hounds tapered off, and the only noise left was the ringing anger reverberating through his skull. A knot formed in his stomach, as he began to run in the direction of his dogs. Eris had spent centuries training his hounds, and they had a rhythm. They never once went silent unless he ordered them to. Not unless something terrible had happened to them.

Burning orange trees blurred in Eris’s peripheral vision as he ran into a dusty clearing, the fire at his fingertips warmed his hands as he prepared for a fight, but he faltered when he saw the largest hound of the pack lay flat on his back with his soft stomach bared to the skies, a slender hand scratching away at his furry tummy. Glancing up in shock, Eris was greeted with gentle laughter as a joyful fae female watched his two youngest hounds prance around her, play fighting for her undivided attention. Eyes gazing back down once more Eris tutted as he watched the usually stoic leader of the pack bury her large head into the female’s lap, snuffling into her skirts and drawing another delightful giggle from her.

“What well trained dogs I seem to have bred,” Eris spoke sharply, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

His hounds stiffened and stood to attention immediately upon hearing their masters sarcastic growl. You jumped to your feet in surprise, wiping your dusty hands on your dress, meeting Eris’s hard stare with a sheepish smile, crimson flooding your cheeks.

“Oh, hello. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise they were out here with anyone. Your dogs are beautiful,”

“My lady, you are lucky you still have your hands. My hounds do not usually take so kindly to strangers,” It was the truth, a few months ago a wandering merchant lost three fingers when he reached out to stroke the dogs without their permission. The fact that you stood before Eris not only whole but covered in fur from their loving affection was baffling to the Autumn Court heir.

“These dogs?” You ask skeptically, holding back a laugh, reminding Eris of the position in which he had found them.

“It appears they must have taken a liking to you my lady, a rare thing indeed,”

“I am not a lady,” you state gingerly. He should have noticed the lack of jewels, the plain dress, the absence of guards - but something about your sheer presence was so captivating that all of that had faded into the background.

“I do apologise, you will have to pardon my ignorance,” It was Eris’s turn to blush then. He prided himself on his intuition. His innate ability to size up his opponents had served him well over the centuries, allowing him to swiftly understand a person and their motives in order to stay five steps ahead of them at all times. In your enchanting presence however, Eris’s usual instincts evaded him completely.

“What may I call you then?”

“Oh right, my name is Y/N,” you reply, bashful as Eris takes your delicate hand and places a kiss upon it.

“Whilst it truly is a pleasure to meet you Y/N, I am curious to what you are doing alone in the forest so close to nightfall. You are aware of what lurks within the trees once the sun goes down, no?”

“I’m here to see the High Lord,”

Eris stiffened, so many questions flying around his mind as something thick and painful settled itself deep in his chest. Why would such a seemingly gentle being want to be anywhere near his beast of a father?

“Th-the High Lord?” was all Eris could stutter out.

“My family, we have a farm to the south, just above the border. Only for the past few years my father has been sick, and the crops have suffered greatly due to the droughts we’ve been experiencing,”

Eris’s heart cracked for you, for the pain that swam in your eyes. There was no reason he should care, he had met you a matter of moments ago, and yet a part of him ached to fix your situation.

“I would like to ask our High Lord for a reprieve on our tithe - just for six months. By then I hope and pray to the Mother to have our little farm back to the flourishing haven it once was,”

You were dead. If you got to his father and begged him for anything then you might as well sign your own death warrant. Eris had witnessed too many times the tithes that ended in bloodshed. Beron was too clever to kill anyone in a public forum, he knew it would lead to rebellion, but his spies would soon catch up with anyone who was lacking in funds and they would all mysteriously vanish. He had to do something, he couldn’t let you wander innocently to your death.

Oblivious to Eris’s internal struggle, you suddenly perked up, eyes widening,

“Oh how rude of me, here I am prattling on and I haven’t even asked how I should address you? You are dressed so finely you must be a Lord, please forgive me,” you stated, sinking into yourself as you took in his perfect appearance.

The Lord’s pristine shoes alone likely cost more than your family could scrape together in a whole year. Embarrassment tainted your good mood as you pulled your cloak tighter around your body to hide your shabby clothing.

Eris could sense the shame dripping off you, and unable to stop himself he placed a finger under your chin, and made sure your eyes met his.

“My name is Eris, but you needn’t concern yourself about formalities’ he told you “I am of little importance”.

It wasn’t exactly a lie. Whilst his position in the Autumn Court provided him with the finest luxuries money could buy and any outsider could easily assume the heir had unlimited power and freedom, behind closed doors, under Beron’s harsh regime, Eris was nobody. He was liked by few and truly understood by none.

“Eris,” you say dreamily, tilting your head to truly take in the beautiful male before you.

Under your gentle gaze Eris feels a glittering warmth spread across his body, a primal rush to protect you, and then a life altering snap.

“You’re-,” he stumbles, unable to finish his sentence before you begin your own.

“Anyway I best be going,” you rush out, realising the passing time and lifting your skirts to turn. “It was terribly nice to meet you, but I really must be on my way,”

“Please don’t!” Eris blurts, gently grabbing your hand, sending a shiver down your spine. You turn to him, confusion taking over your face as he explains softly.

“The highlord, he isn’t a good male. He won’t hesitate to hurt you. If you approach him with any vulnerability he will do anything he can to manipulate you into making a deal you can’t keep, and if that doesn’t work he will just kill you,” he said, stroking a surprisingly calloused thumb down the back of your hand.

“But, maybe if I can just explain my situation to him then-”

“He won’t care, Y/N. You will die,” Eris’s eyes go dark and you know in your very soul he is telling the truth. “I just- I need you to believe me,”

“I do, it’s just-,” You faulter, breathing deeply before you continue.

“I can’t go home without this six months reprieve. We have nothing more to give. Surely if I turn up to the tithe next week empty handed he’ll just kill me anyway?”

Eris looks down at the wealth that drips from his body, and suddenly recalled the scandal that Tamlin’s ex-human had caused at the last Spring tithe. Rumours swirled far and wide of the Cursebreaker’s controversial gift to a poor wraith, and without a second thought Eris followed suit, pulling off the gold rings which covered his fingers.

“Here,” he says, shoving the pieces into your hands before he began to unclasp his cuff links.

“What, no! Eris, I can’t take this,”

“Yes, you can,” Eris insisted, moving on to his many earrings. “I will not let that beast touch you. I’m not in a position to offer you safety, but please let me give you some help,”

You nodded, frozen in shock, and watched as Eris filled your hands with rubies, opals and orange sapphires all set in the finest metals money could buy. Finally he takes out a fine leather pouch filled with gold coins and helps you to gently stuff the rest of his riches inside. Once the pouch is fit for bursting he removes his fur lined cloak and tells you to swap it for your own threadbare one.

Looking you once over, Eris swallowed down his instinct to press his lips against yours, knowing his relentless father would never allow for his eldest child, his heir, to be mated to a peasant.

Collecting himself, Eris let out a sharp whistle, making you jump as the leader of his pack came to his heel.

“I want you to take Hallie,” he said, his throat thick with emotion as he took your shaking hand into his own.

“Eris, I’m not taking your dog!” You argued, giving him an incredulous look.

“These woods are unsafe at the best of times, if you walk them with gold lining your pockets it is asking for trouble. She is a good hound. She will keep your safe,”

“I- I have no way to repay you for your kindness,” you breathed, silver lining your eyes, unable to fully comprehend the events of the last half hour.

“Stay safe, my lady, that’s all I ask,” he said, before kissing your hand one final time, petting his beloved Hallie on the head and then bidding you both goodbye as he disappeared between the trees, the sad howling of his remaining hounds in tow.

The walk back to the manor passed quickly in a mess of emotions, and even as Eris dragged himself to bed, accompanied by a glass of strong whisky, he tossed and turned all night, unable to forget the beautiful fae he left in the woods and the piece of his soul she had taken with her.

🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂

Hope you enjoyed reading!

✨Let me know if you would like to be added to my general taglist ✨

#eris x reader #eris vanserra #vanserra brothers #eris vanserra x reader #eris x y/n #eris x you #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic

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dabiekql · 1 month

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Recommendation - Slashers/Dead by Daylight/Monsters

Navigation

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🔪 Slasher

Ghostface! Ethan - Sleepy

Ghostface - Middle of the Night

Yandere! Ghostface (NSFW)

Brahms - Guard Dog

Brahms - Save Me

Brahms - I'll Protect You

Bramhs - Aftermath

Brahms - The Real You

Brahms - He Reveals Himself and You Panic (NSFW)

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🎮 DBD

Ghostface - Smile for Me, Sweetcheeks

Self-Aware! Ghostface and the Player Headcanons

Pyramid Head x Innocent Reader (Platonic!)

Pyramid Head - Whipped For and In Love With Survivor! Reader

Wraith With a Survivor Who Constantly Runs Into Him

Killers Reacting to Their S/O Getting Used as a Shield Against His Attacks

Killers Protecting Their S/O

Wraith, Doctor, Pyramid Head - Silent Treatments After Misunderstanding

Deathslinger, Wraith, Doctor, Pyramid Head - Breaking Up Prank

Max, Kazan, Anna - DBD Killers with a Scared! Reader

Trickster, Wraith, Doctor, Pyramid Head - When S/O is Injured Because of Someone Else

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👹 Monster

Masked Trespasser - Masked / Part 2 / Part 3

Male Monster - The Demon Childhood Friend (Series?)

Satyr God - Servantly Duties

Male! Werewolf - Senses Working Overtime

Male! Werewolf - A Different Scent

#ghostface x reader #slasher x reader #brahms x reader #slasher x y/n #monster x reader #dbd x reader #pyramid x reader #wraith x reader #dead by daylight x reader #werewolf x reader

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alistairsmonstercafe · 3 months

Note

Hi! Just incase you do requests, could we please have some wraith-ghost x werewolf!reader? I saw the fanart and couldn’t stop thinking about Ghost being absolutely dwarfed by their partner especially in their shift.

(And in case of nsfw, imagine ghost helping his partner through rut and getting absolutely railed by his bf half-shifted. The size difference is going crazy!)

NSFW Guiding A Shadow

NOTICE Male Werewolf TOP/DOM reader

CHARACTER BOTTOM/SUB Wraith Ghost

CW Scent Kink, monster fucking, size kink, werewolf rut, slight blood (just mentions of you scratching him accidentally with claws), mentions of poly relationship with 141 (so no cheating they all bang each other like horny rabbits)

ADDITIONAL I don't mind Fem/Fem aligned readers reading but don't feel insulted/complain that I strictly don't do Fem reader, not my cuppa tea mate.

INSPIRATION @/Bluegiragi Monster AU on Twt and Tumblr

NOTE Sorry for my sudden absence a while ago... Cough.. I think in my little adhd brain I had a fit of hyperfixation and just burnt out as easy as I came.

When you had first arrived in the helicopter, the moment Ghost had caught even a whiff of a tail, he groaned. Another werewolf? Albeit larger. But after Soap was just as recent? He prayed you weren't like him.

Well. Hoped.

He looked at you what could only be assumed from under his balaclava was a scowl. Eyes looking you up and down with a harsh crease in his eyebrows. Furrowed and judging as you walked off the plane.

Training would never be fun with a werewolf, that was for sure with their size, and with you? Many dwarfed in comparison. You were not as bulky as Soap, persay, but damn, you were built. Decently thick legs and a height that towered over many, even Ghost. Fur upon different parts of your body and decently groomed might one say.

And after hitting it off with Soap (as he wished wasn't expected,) he was yet then assigned with the task of watching over you. The likes of you, of which, while quiet, seemed to be influenced by Soap that he, Ghost, was not as scary as he turned to be. No matter how many growls or warnings of what he could do to you, you never seemed to be phased. And just as Soap had wiggled into Ghost's heart, who said it could only hold one?

You had seemed to wedge your way into that dark depth he called a heart. (As how he always described it, but nobody ever believed him.) And he seemed to accept you more. React less to your energy and simply nod. The best you could ever get you supposed. But who could complain? Not you, thats for sure.

The real kicker had been training day. It was you, Gaz, Ghost, Soap, and Price gearing up for what was meant to be a casual spar. Soap seemed ecstatic at a new man who could keep up to his size, and even challenge him. Price and Gaz could only agree to see how this would play out.

But Ghost? His eyes never left you. Narrowed and watching. What would your werewolf form look like? Were you smaller, or bigger then Johnny? Did you go just as wild as Johnny did on a full moon, more or less?

There were many unexplained questions, many both answered and many forgotten in a series of minutes as he saw your form.

That shouldn't have explained the sudden tent in his pants when he saw your wolf ish form panting over Johnny's, teeth playfully bared and a paw like hand keeping Johnny firmly planted into the floor as he surrendered.

That shouldn't have explained the sudden burning arousal in his core.

That shouldn't-

But it did.

And all Ghost could do was excuse himself for the restroom. Undoing his belt with whisps of smoke practically fighting to not let lose on his forearms. Muttered curses of mild frustration as he groaned and let out his cock, freeing it from his boxers as he bit his glove hard and stroked it. He couldn't let anyone know how much this affected him.

His mind foggy and desperate in both a want of release and mild curiosity, Ghost wondered how you'd feel. Hell, he was aware he'd only been interested a few times in his life, few one night stands, few casualties here in there in the squad.. But there was something about giving the control to someone who didn't always have a human form for the night made him curious.

Apparently curious enough to cum on his hand, breathing heavily as he was pulled from his high with a knock on the bathroom door.

"Hurry it up Lt, lads eh waitin' for ye." Soap grumbled, the sound of him walking in and turning on the tap was quiet.

"Out in a minute." Ghost could only reply, pulling up his boxers and zipping up his pants. He wiped down everything and pushed the stall door open to see Soap leaning against the sink with a raised brow, looking a little bruised.

"Look a little bruised there, Johnny."

Soap scoffs and shrugs.

"Tha' lad did aye number on me. Accidently broke the lads phone, but for a wolf of tha' size, I'd guess his family wasn't small either."

Size. Back to the size, practically forgetting about the fact your phone broke and Ghost was reminded when his mind briefly drifted back to your size, large and imposing an-

"Ghost to earth. Ye there or did ye ascend to high heaven to meet the queen?"

"I'm here, I'm here. Just had a thought."

"About a certain little wolf?"

"Shut your trap." Ghost had looked away as he was snapped from his thoughts once more, brushing past Soap as he reached for the door.

"You can do that a later day." Soap hummed. Watching Ghost leave with a cheeky grin.

Later that day, in the mess hall you were seen chatting idly with the squad, complaining on the cafeterias shitty meat options as everyone could only ever agree.

"I'm tellin' you guys, how can you even eat this shit? Tastes worse then a dog's ass." You groan, poking at the slice of supposed ham.

"An' how do you know what a dog's ass tastes like mate?" Gaz teases quietly, before getting a firm smack on the head by Soap.

"Look at us mate. We ain' exactly the people you wanna ask when knowing that of all things."

Gaz shrugs and gives a laugh. But you seem to pay no mind to their conversation, your eyes scanning around for Ghost. It had been a while since he was supposed to meet with the rest of you for dinner.

"I think I'm full, I'm gonna go look for Ghost, alright?" You mention quietly, and the rest nod, but Price seems to have an idea and shrugs, looking to the side.

Walking through the halls you pass by a calander, January 24. January 24? Why did that seem so familiar? It wasn't a birthday or a meeting, so you shrugged it off. A broken phone wouldn't serve you any good either. And you didn't feel too off aside from a few aches from today's spar.

But when you knocked on Ghost's door, a scent hit your nose like a truck. And a few soft groans was enough to let you know what was happening.

"Ghost?" You called out quietly, unsure to knock again.

"Can I come in?" You ask, even while fully aware of what's happening, leaving your tail wagging and your mouth almost salvating, you hold respect as you grip the door knob.

But when a strained voice of "come in", is spoken, you almost quickly push open the door. Seeing as Ghost lays on his back, two fingers stuffed into his hole as he looks up at you with a dazed expression.

"Interested in helpin' your superior out?" He groans, head falling back a little as his fingers press near a spot inside him.

And you can easily feel the strings of your restraint tear, the scent of him so aroused, so wet, so perfectly presented for you makes your instincts practical drool. A perfect position for a mate, and a perfect way to start the spring season.

You quickly find yourself on top of him, face buried in his neck as you lap at the scent, tongue licking where it can while your hand finds its way to his mouth. Shoving it in whilst he gives a muffled whine on them. But you know it's hard to restrict yourself in the confindes of a more human then wolf body. And it's almost like a silent plead to be allowed to switch as you look up at Ghost and whine, rutting your cock against his thigh.

"Fuckin' hell.. You have my permission. Go wild." Ghost whispers as he tugs you in close by the collar. And that enough is able to grow you around 4x in size. Clothes easily removes and teared off as your cock lays heavy against his thigh, as you continue to rut, and your fingers have long replaced his in his hole as you pump in and out, stretching him on your thick fingers as your long tongue finds its way up and down his body.

"F-fuck that tongue..!" Ghost moans out, back arching into your touch as the thickness of your fingers, your tongue, and heavy cock all feel like so much on him, and he loves it. Craves it even. And it's when you remove your fingers, in that brief moment he knows he's going to not be able to move for quite a bit after that.

And the stretch is even better. The thickness of your cock at the tip pushes in and burns delightfully, filling him up as you drag it down until it reaches near the base. But not entirely to leave room for the knot soon later. A slow paced easily turned into Jackhammering as you snapped your hips quickly into place after bottoming out in him, your claws digging into his thighs and hips causing mild drips of blood that Ghost couldn't care more about and flipping him over onto his stomach to reach deeper positions, and seeing a small tummy buldge hidden beneath as you place your free hand under it, making his whispy shadows go rampant on his body, his shadows shakily wrapping around the fluff of your neck to pull you in, mumbling praises. "G-good fuckin' boy- Oh fuck! So-.. So good fuckin' your lieutenant like a good pup-!"

It makes your tail wag faster and your mind run rampant on breeding the man below you, as you feel your knot built up.

All the sensations make Ghost jolt, moan, squirm, and whine. But the size and stretch is so worth it, and he wouldn't have werewolf cock any other way.

#cod #cod mw2 #male reader #alistair writes ☕️#monster au #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x male reader #bottom ghost simon riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #bottom ghost #ghost x male reader #ghost cod

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lucifermonsii · 4 months

Text

H!Keegan X Male!Reader

Chapter 2: "There you are.."

The subtle sounds of footsteps along with slight leave crunches awakens the critters in the darkness as the men walks through the thick forest, mud and dirt stains their boots with every step of the way. Wearing night goggles to see clearly through the dark as it was a hue of blue, M/N keeping his firearm tight and close to himself as he walks behind the other operatives, keeping his eyes open and his ears sharp to detect any threats within the area. His body tenses from the slight rustle of the bushes or the small soft steps of the creatures along the dense forest, the cold atmosphere surrounds them as they were accompanied by the moon. The moonlight dances around the surroundings as it shines the midnight creatures who roams in the dark.

Eventually reaching their destination they stopped, standing all together as they report back to the ones at base. With a crackle of one of the operatives radio:

"We're here sir."

Says the operatice before signaling the others to follow inside the building in front, all of the men sneek inside the building with no problem as they surrounded the area within. Hiding in the shadows as they took out any enemies on sight, of course splitting up to cover more ground. M/N hurries along his way in the shadows as he moves like a wraith, keeping silent with his footsteps. Upon seeing an enemy on sight he stops and crouches, the person walks along in a lab coat, walking pass M/N before getting pulled into the shadow and getting their neck cracked in a singular twist by the man. He releases the body before picking up the keycard that was in the pocket of the dead body, stuffing it into his own before proceeding to find the room for it. Walking down a long hallway there were many metal doors in sight along the dimly lit hallway.

M/N walks along before stopping at the last room of the row of doors, another one of his men arriving at the hallway as they met with a nod. He signals the other to try unlock the other doors as he attempts to unlock the that stood infront of him, taking out the keycard the door opens with a soft beep. Opening before him as he steps foot inside, cautiously he walks around. Still keeping his firearm close to him as he spots the large empty cells, ones that were stained with blood, dirt and many other unpleasent things to witness. At the corner of his eyes he spots a dark cell that has a humanoid figure at the corner of it. Out of curiosity he gets closer, taking small and cautios footsteps towards the cell.

"Who's there...?"

He asks with precaution, his tone smooth and monotoned but still terrified of what may be the entity. The creature responds with a low growl, slowly turning its body to look at M/N with its blue eyes. The rest still remains hidden as there was a faint silhouette of a long tail with a pointed arrow at the end of it, its eyes furrows as it shifts deeper within the shadows. Making itself smaller as if showing submission. A light chitter escapes its lips as its tail slightly swings. M/N's eyes spots the mechanic device where a keycard was needed, so being the curious person he was— he decided to step into the cell and approach said entity.

Eyes fixated upon the creature as he hums, furrowing his eyebrows while he slowly approaches it with cautuon. Taking slow steps as he got closer, and closer to the creature. Firearm slowly lowering down as he was now a foot away from it, narrowing his eyes as his gaze sharpens, focusing on the entity. Then— he got a glimps of it ocean blue eyes, him making himself smaller as his tail wraps around him. A hum escapes his lips as he stares up at M/N with those blue doe eyes.

He couldn't believe it...

Was this really him?

"Keegan, what happened...?"

He questions ever so softly as he crouches down infront of him, his firearm now placed at its holster as M/N's hand slowly approaches Keegan. Wanting to caress his cloth face in the shadows. Slight tears pricked at the corner of his eyes as his gloved hand contacts with the fabric of Keegan's balaclava, palm again his cheek as he gently caresses his cheek with his thumb.

"I- Im scared M/N... I don't want to be here anymore."

Keegan whimpers as his voice slightly cracks, light tears fall down his cheek as he jumps towards M/N and hugs him tightly. Not wanting to let go or lose him ever again. Legs wrapped around his waist as he kept a tight grip around his body, face buried into M/N's neck and his tail around the male's thigh, M/N falling back slightly and landing on his butt, making him seated on the cold ground. His hands finds his way at Keegan's back at the smaller male sobs softly.

M/N's eyes darts around Keegan's new form, realising what he has become. A demon of some sort. Having horns and a tail, along with some other things he suspects. His hand goes behind the back of his head, slightly lifting his face away to inspect it. Keegan's sclera were dark, black even and his ocean blue eyes were more vibrant.

"What happened...?"

He murmurs softly with furrowed eyebrows as a tinge of sympathy lingers within him of what Keegan had experienced from the past few days. His grip on Keegan tightens as he sighs, pulling Keegan back in his embrace as they sat there in the warmth of eachothers arms. The sergeant sobs softly against M/N's neck as tears streams down his face, clearly traumatised from the experience of being locked up.

"I miss you so much.."

@arthurmorgansballsack

#x male reader #call of duty modern warfare ii #male reader #ghost mw2 #cod mw x reader #top male reader #dom male reader #moots #keegan x male reader #keegan p russ x reader #keegan russ x reader #cod keegan #keegan p russ #Keegan russ #cod x male reader

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azsazz · 1 year

Text

Burrow

Cassian x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Nesting. Preferably with Cassian but I'm not picky.

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics.

Word Count: 929

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“No,” you cry desperately, throwing your arm out to try and stop Cassian from entering the bed. Your alpha stares down at you, eyebrow raised. Swallowing harshly, you duck your head as your cheeks heat a sheepish crimson. “What if you ruin it?”

Cassian's face softens as he tries to bite back the teasing grin threatening to expose itself. You are the most adorable omega he’s ever seen, all bundled up in one of his thick sweaters that drowns you with his pillows and blankets stacked tightly around you in the nest that had taken you ages to perfect.

“Sweetheart, you do know that all of those things smell like me, right?”

You huff, burrowing your flaring face into one of the pillows, breathing the lingering scent of him he’d left behind. “I know, it’s stupid.”

Cassian hushes you softly, abandoning the side of the bed that was your usual spot and sweeping around the edge to where you’d built up your nest on his side of the luxurious bed.

You’d rolled into the divet he’d left after he’d kissed you goodbye before slipping out of the room for training early this morning. It had been awfully warm and you couldn’t resist pressing your face into his pillow to breathe in the scent of the alpha that had claimed you as his.

Cassian catches your chin in a soft hold, thumb stroking over your cheek before it slides down your neck and across the mark on your neck in a soothing motion. Your heart stutters in your chest at his touch upon your most proud brand, gifted to you by him. He tilts your head to look his way, keenly aware of what’s going on with you. As both your alpha and your mate he knows you better than himself. He hadn’t seen you all morning, and when he’d run into the wraiths after a hearty breakfast with his brothers and heard that you had refused their services, he’d immediately known you were nearing your heat and had begun nesting.

You’re very particular about things when your heat is approaching. With your sharpened senses you didn’t want the smell of anyone else ruining the heady scent of Cassian’s throughout the room. You didn’t want the wraiths to come in and clean his clothes or ruin the delicious sandalwood scents smothering every inch of the space. You picked through the haphazardly thrown items on the floors and chests to find the perfect ones to fit in your nest – nothing too dirty but with enough of the alphas scent that it calmed your itchy bond.

When he’d finally made it back to the room his heart stumbled at the sight of you burrowing deeply into the mass of the nest you made up on his side of the bed. A brief but calculating glance had Cassian recognizing more than a few of his favorite shirts and sweaters, pillows and blankets stacked in a precise manner that had his bond humming in his chest. A bunch of his hair ties hang loose around your wrists, one holding your hair back from your pretty face. He’d even caught sight of his beloved sword, nestled in its century worn leather holster that smells strongly of him.

“It’s not stupid at all.” His mesmerizing hazel gaze holds yours, voice set in a way to show you that he means nothing but the truth. “You know that I will do anything to keep you safe and comfortable, right mate?”

Your eyes turn glassy, heart aching in such a wonderful way. You love this male and have for as long as you can remember, and everything he’s done has shown you just how much he reciprocates your feelings. The mark under his gentle touch throbs and warmth fills your chest.

“Yes, alpha,” you sigh, relaxing in his grip.

“Good girl,” he hums and your nostrils flare, torn between wanting to keep your nest in its near perfect arrangement or wanting to tug your alpha into bed for a romp. His stare shines with a heated glint, the air in the room thickening with the heavy eye contact.

“Keep looking at me like that, little omega, and I’ll completely ravish you.”

In a quick motion you’re flipping the covers off of yourself and gesturing to him in. “Get in here, mate, but don’t touch anything.”

Laughter rumbles in Cassian’s chest at your response, carefully toeing off his boots and leathers to slip into your nest with you. It’s a tight fit, considering how large of a male he is, but he makes it work, scooping you up into his arms and silencing your whimper with a soft kiss as he settles between the hills of items circled on the duvet, you clutched tightly to his chest.

As soon as he’s manhandled you into a comfortable position with you pressed flush to his front and the thick blankets pulled up to your shoulders, you immediately scent your mate, writhing against his chest and tucking your face into the crook of his neck to take a deep inhale of his musky scent – salt and sandalwood. It nearly makes your head spin.

Your eyes shut in bliss and your pleased sigh against his throat sends shivers up his spine, his arms tightening around you in response. His heart beats a strong beat in his chest, reacting to you cuddled in his arms, where you always should be.

Having him here is so much better than being surrounded only by his things.

And to think…you almost didn’t let him back in bed.

#cassian x reader #cassian/reader #cassian #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acowar #acmaf #azsazz #a/b/o cassian

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lukabitch · 1 year

Note

Hope you're not tired of me yet! I've loved everything you've done with my ideas so far, so feel free to have another💜

I wouldn't say I'm the greatest singer, but I truly enjoy doing it and I love the writing process as well. Music is one of my biggest inspirations for prompts and plot lines and it works vice versa. How would Trickster (apologies for requesting him for the nth time, but I love him and he is a musician to be fair), Wraith, Dwight react to an S/O singing them a song he wrote for them? Bonus points if they didn't know he could sing previously 🥰

I couldn’t get tired of your request. They’re so fun! This is my first time writing for Wraith so a little warning if I get something wrong. Thank you so much for the request! :)

Tw: none this is pure fluff.

Trickster:

This man is practically swooning over you.

You made a song for him?! He’s honored!

He’ll tap his foot to try and keep you on beat. He thinks you’re doing great by yourself but just in case.

He might even start dancing with you. A simple couple dance. How cute!

He had heard you sing before. It was a duet between the two of you. He didn’t know you could sing this good though!

He’ll rest his head on your shoulder just enjoying the moment.

When you finish he’ll give you a kiss on the lips.

“I didn’t know you could sing that well songbird! You wouldn’t mind doing it again, right handsome?”

He’ll try to get you to sing more often.

One time he woke you up in the middle of the night asking you to sing.

He bugs you about it until you do sing. He makes you sing to escape a trial with him.

He was going to let you go anyway. He just likes hearing your voice. :)

Wraith:

This man is sitting there awestruck. He didn’t know you could sing.

He’s slightly swaying to your voice. The song you were singing was hypnotizing to him.

If you get embarrassed and start to stumble over your words. He’ll help you get back on track.

He only found out afterwards that you made the song.

This man is so happy he’ll pick you up and spin you around.

He just wants you to sing for him when possible now. He loves your voice so much!

He’ll make you gifts with some spare parts. He already made a music box!

He will use his bell as background music for you to sing to.

“Little dove thank you so much. You didn’t have to do this for me.”

He’s just so sweet about it.

He just holds you tight not letting you go.

He loves his little singer with all his heart. :)

Dwight:

He’s on the verge of tears. You made song for him? Why?

He would lean against your chest listening to you sing.

Eventually the tears would start to spill.

You immediately start to comfort him. He’ll tell you he was just really happy.

The two of you would start to dance as you continued to sing. All Dwight could feel from you was pure love.

He thinks he has the best boyfriend in this realm.

“Baby you really didn’t have to do something so sweet. Thank you so much!”

He didn’t realize that he was still in fact crying.

He wants you to sing for him all the time. He’s just a tad nervous to ask.

You singing actually helps him sleep. So expect him to fall asleep right in your arms.

He just wants you to hold him while you sing. It feels like the only comfort he gets here.

He might nervously sing along with you. He’s just trying his best for you. :)

#dbd #dead by daylight #dbd killer #dbd x male reader #request #dbd survivor #killer x survivor #survivor x survivor #dbd trickster #trickster #ji woon hak #trickster x male reader #the wraith #philip ojomo #dbd wraith #wraith x male reader #dwight fairfield #dwight fairfield x male reader #dwight is the best boy can’t change my mind

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gloomwitchwrites · 6 months

Text

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, vaginal fingering, oral sex (female & male receiving), sex w/ a condom, dirty talk, mirror sex, multiple positions, possessive Simon, hand necklace, slight size difference

Word Count: 6.2k

A/N: Part Two of Ink & Needle

You and Ghost sneak away to Riot Room's green room.

Chapter One // Chapter Three

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

“Okay,” you murmur. Then, more loudly. “Lead the way.”

Ghost’s demeanor changes from coiled hesitation to an intense stiffness. He blinks as if he didn’t hear you correctly or you said something ridiculous. Ghost’s reaction is like a petrified tree, and your agreement to fuck him is the wet, mineral-rich sediment that consumes all the oxygen.

Have you botched this? Have you misunderstood this entire dynamic?

Internally, you start to pull away, all that liquid courage receding like the ocean before a tsunami. Ghost must sense your growing reluctance—or perhaps you physically move as much as you inwardly do—because he shifts on his feet to block your view of the alleyway entrance into Riot Room.

His head dips to the right slightly. “Absolutely sure, love?”

Does your wraith not believe you? Or is this his way of defining your consent? Maybe, it’s both.

Squaring your shoulders, you swallow down all trepidation. You’re always avoiding. You’re always doing the safe thing and never taking risks. A quick fuck might be what you need to push past this oddness that’s laced your entire evening at Riot Room. The fresh start is you straddling this man and bouncing on his cock until you come.

“I told you to lead the way,” you reply cooly with a soft, sultry smile.

Ghost leans back, smirks, and then flicks his dead cigarette into a nearby bin. He starts walking backward and then points to your crushed cigarette on the ground. “Don’t fucking litter.”

The teasing tone sends heat straight to your pussy. As if knowing your body’s reaction, Ghost grins like he’s won a prize. He lifts his hand and curls his fingers around the edge of the balaclava, lowering it back into place. Minutes ago, he threatened a man for touching you, and now he’s cracking jokes.

Bending at the knees, you quickly pick up and discard the cigarette, wiping the rainwater from your fingers against your sheer black tights.

Ghost’s backward steps are slow and you easily catch up to him. When you stride up beside him, Ghost reaches out, and slides his large, tattooed hand to the back of your neck. Those long, thick fingers of his fan out over the lower-half of your throat. It is not a harsh touch, but a possessive one. His grip is firm, but gentle, more like Ghost wants you to understand entirely that you’ve agreed to do this with him.

Steering you toward the alleyway entrance, the two of you step up into the club just in front of the stairs that lead to the downstairs area of Riot Room. Ghost mentioned it’s an employee area, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that anyone will be down there. Riot Room is packed, and the staff are all preoccupied with the crowd.

There is no hesitation from Ghost. He quickly guides the two of you down those steps. At the bottom is a door. Ghost pauses there, glancing back to the stairs. You follow his gaze and see no one.

“Come on,” says Ghost over the music as he pushes open the door, revealing a hallway. It’s narrow and only extends roughly ten feet before curving sharply to the right.

Without letting go of you neck, Ghost checks several doors along this stretch of hallway. All of them say “employee only” and each one is locked. You’re not sure if Ghost is checking to make sure there won’t be any surprises or if he’s trying to find a place for the two of you to go.

You round the corner, and the first door on the left says “Green Room” in faded black lettering. Ghost approaches, and the handle gives easily. He ushers you through the door and then the overhead light turns on.

Both of you flinch. It’s fucking bright and goddamn awful.

Ghost grunts and strides across the room to a lone lamp that rests on a table. He turns it on and you immediately flick off the overhead light.

“Much better,” grumbles Ghost as he pinches the bridge of his nose and blinks rapidly.

With the soft light, it’s easier for your eyes to adjust. While it’s a green room, it’s a shitty one. Against the back wall are three mirrors lined up in a row. One is cracked and all of them are slightly dirty and chipped in the corners. A dark green sofa is just to the left of the door. It’s seen better days. The fabric is frayed and the cushions are worn. A lone coffee table riddled with holes, scrapes, and carved names sits in front of it. There are several empty ashtrays on the top of the table. The only other thing of note is the tiny end table with the lamp that Ghost stands next to.

You glance at Ghost and he shrugs, knowing exactly what you’re thinking.

“It’s private,” he says, and rubs the back of his neck as if he’s a bit embarrassed. You burst out laughing and then promptly cover your mouth with both hands. “Didn’t say it’d be nice,” he mumbles, but you hear the gentle humor in it.

“No,” you giggle, dropping your hands. “You didn’t.”

Slowly, you take the five steps that get you to the couch. You run your fingers of the ratty fabric of the armrest. The frayed threads remind you of Jade’s sofa in her apartment. Her cat, Waffles, likes to use it as a scratching post when she isn’t paying attention.

You glance up at Ghost. He’s clutching a folding chair and you’re not sure where the fuck he got it. He walks over to the door and unfolds the chair, setting it down in front of him.

“No lock,” he explains.

You glance at the door handle. Ghost is right. There isn’t one.

“I don’t want any interruptions,” he explains. “And this is your chance to leave before I make sure no can get in.”

This is your chance to leave?

“What if I want to stop in the middle of it?” you ask hesitantly, not entirely liking Ghost’s word choice.

“Then we’ll stop,” he answers simply.

“And I can go?”

“Of course.” Ghost says it like there isn’t any other option, and that comforts you. “But once I’m inside you, you won’t want to leave. I promise you that.” The lust that drips from Ghost’s words slide over you, wrapping themselves up in your skin.

There are plenty of times in your life that men have bragged about their skill only to let you down. But Ghost? You believe him. The seductive darkness that radiates from him is a testament to that.

“I’m staying. I want to stay.”

“Good,” he murmurs. “Good.” Ghost shoves the top of the chair under the door handle. The curved edge of the handle catches on it. If anyone were to push down on the handle, it would scrape against the plastic chair, barring entry.

Ghost lingers there a moment before slowly sliding off his leather jacket. Underneath the leather jacket is a simple black t-shirt that clings to him, defining every muscle. Ghost is fit, and not in a going to the gym everyday sort of way. There is power behind those muscles that speaks to a more rigorous training.

I’ve killed men over less.

Who is Ghost? Do you even want to find out the truth?

Ghost tosses the jacket onto the folding chair. His left arm is covered in tattoos that disappear underneath the shirt sleeve. His right arm is completely bare except for his hand. There are tattoos on his fingers and the back of his palm.

The neckline of the black t-shirt curves in a bit of a low dip. Between this and the edge of the black balaclava, his blackout neck tattoo teases you. You want to touch him, to explore and trace every tattoo on his body. It doesn’t matter if you do it with your tongue, teeth, or fingers.

Slowly, Ghost stalks toward you, his natural swagger like an aphrodisiac. You’re immediately hot and needy, and you have to curl your hands into fists to resists reaching for him in desperation.

This sensation is new. You’ve never felt like this for anyone, let alone a complete stranger. Ghost cups your cheek, and his thumb catches on your bottom lip. His thumb drags your bottom lip down, revealing your teeth. Ghost’s gaze is pointed and you hunger to know what he’s thinking as he looks upon your face.

He comes to some sort of conclusion, because his thumb disappears and your lip lightly bounces back into place. That pointed, inspection-like look in his eye shifts to something heated as he observes your mouth.

You like Ghost’s attention. You like how intensely he watches you, as if he never wants to forget a single inch.

Ghost drops his arm and then he brushes past you, heading for the couch. Easing down on it, Ghost spreads his legs, and rubs his palms up and down his thighs. Ghost has two silver ringers on his left hand you didn’t notice before. One on his thumb and one on his index finger.

“Come here,” purrs Ghost as he pats the top of his right thigh.

His command is a pull you cannot ignore. You go to him, moving of your own fruition. The autonomy you’ve been clinging to has been ripped away. Ghost has complete control, and you’re perfectly fine with that.

You come to a stop between his spread legs. With exaggerated slowness, you lift one leg and settle your knee to the side of one thigh. You do the same with the other, sinking into his lap, straddling him as you settle into place. This position pulls on your skirt, and it slides up your legs, dangerously close to exposing your pussy.

Ghost’s hands immediately go to your thighs and hips. They caress and rub, moving up and down, squeezing. Once he’s had his fill of those, he clings to the slight dip in your hips, drawing you closer to him. Your own hands go up to his chest. The heat of him is palpable through his black, cotton t-shirt.

Neither of you breaks eye contact. Your gazes are locked as the two of you touch each other. It’s languid, unhurried, and entirely too intimate for such a causal interaction. That intensity still languishes in his eyes, and you have no idea what Ghost might need to ease some of it.

But what you do know is that you want to kiss him. Slowly, your fingers travel upward, catching on the edge of the balaclava. Ghost does not draw away or snatch at your wrist as you expect him to. Instead, your fingers slide under the fabric, guiding the balaclava up his face, and Ghost allows it.

Ghost is trusting you with this, as he should. You know his limit, even if Ghost is a complete stranger. There is a reason he’s covering his face, and you will respect that boundary until he tells you otherwise.

You pause just above the tip of his nose. Ghost’s blackout neck tattoo is completely clear to you. Being this close to him, you notice the finer details, like scars that run underneath the link. There is also the scar that follows along the curve of his jaw, and you consider why Ghost has left that one untouched.

With you in his lap, now you can touch Ghost’s lips like he did yours. But when your thumb brushes his bottom lip, Ghost opens his mouth, and the tip of his tongue swipes against your skin. The touch surprises you, and your thumb draws away just as Ghost’s tongue retreats into his mouth.

This is your chance. This is your opening.

You lean in until your noses brush and your mouths are moments from touching, but you do not close the distance. You linger in wanton anticipation, and this is not enough for Ghost. He growls, and then his hand is on the back of your neck, bringing your mouths together.

The kiss is deep and fierce. Passionate. This is not a kiss with a stranger but a lover. It makes you shiver, sends your body singing with need. It heats your blood and stirs a slickness in your core.

Ghost tastes of smoke, whiskey, and black tea.

There is not one kiss but many. Ghosts claims you for himself over and over again with just his lips and his possessive hold on your throat. Of all the people you’ve kissed in your life, this is beyond anything you’ve experienced with any of them.

Hook-ups are supposed to be quick things where you get off and move on. This is a simmering pot of water that just won’t fucking boil. It wants to draw this out. It makes you want to wait. This feels like something so much more.

Ghost’s other hand squeezes your thigh and your hands instinctually slide around his neck. Then you’re drawing him closer until the two of you are nothing but lips, teeth, and tongue, kissing as if there will be no one else after this.

Your body molds to him like it’s always meant to be this way. Ghost is it, and your body knows it down to your marrow. He will crack you open, consume your insides, and lick you clean until you’re nothing but an empty shell ready to be filled of whatever he’s willing to give.

Ghost removes his hands from your neck and hip to shove at your jacket. He manages to work it down to your elbows before you pull back to help it the rest of the way, tossing it aside before wrapping your arms around his neck again. The kisses don’t stop. They are desperate. Breath stealing.

His hands drag and pull at your top.

The fabric doesn’t tear but it does surrender to his command, revealing your lace bra beneath. He cups one breast through the fabric, squeezing, and then he’s pulling it aside to touch your skin.

When his warm palm makes contact with your skin, your pussy clenches, and you inhale sharply. Ghost breaks away from your swollen, stinging lips, and the loss is agonizing. You want him to return to you.

Ghost does come back. His lips fall upon your neck, sucking at your skin just as he rolls your nipple between thumb and forefinger, tugging the nipple taut.

You whimper, and he sucks on your neck harder. Your fingers dig into his shirt and you’re tugging at him, wanting to touch his skin in the same way he’s touching you.

Ghost hums softly against your throat. He moves to the other breast, working that nipple to a stiff peak. Once done, Ghost dips his head and swipes his tongue over each nipple. You shudder, fingers fisting his shirt until the fabric stretches, threatening to tear.

The tip of his tongue swirls around your left nipple before moving to your right. Your back arches, hips rocking against him in desperation. It only makes Ghost bolder, sucking and nipping at each nipple until you tug a little too hard on his shirt and Ghost leans back, his deliciously perfect mouth stretched into a self-satisfied grin.

You’re too distracted by the look on his face. Ghost’s hand dips under your skirt and his fingers graze against your thong, discovering just how wet you are for him.

“Fucking hell,” he groans before claiming your mouth in a fiercely primal kiss that sends pleasure straight to your core.

He rubs your clit through the delicate lace, swirling repeatedly until the friction sends your pussy fluttering and flooding with new wetness. Your breath hitches as his fingers slip under the fabric to touch your sex.

Ghost’s own inhalation is downright feral as he pushes your thong to the side and slowly eases one thick finger into your pussy. Your body immediately clenches around him, insisting that he stay there. His other hand his back on your neck, his mouth occupied with knowing your taste.

Ghost starts to pump his finger in and out of your pussy. His palm presses against your clit, rubbing up against it every time his hand flexes with the thrust of his finger. It’s a tease. A promise of what it will be like once Ghost’s cock is buried inside you. Already your body has to accommodate him.

Your nails dig into his arms, leaving little half-moons behind, but you do not draw blood. The sensation of his finger sliding in and out of you is fucking perfect but it’s not enough to get you where you need to do.

“Can’t wait to fucking taste you here,” groans Ghost against your mouth. He emphasizes his meaning with an insertion of a second finger.

This stretch pulls a gnarled, pathetic whimper from your lips. It makes you weak, turns you to dust, grinding you down until you’re close to begging for Ghost to fuck you.

“Then do it,” you reply, surging forward to suck on his tongue before nipping at his mouth.

You’re being bold again. Tempting your wraith from hell. And it’s a fucking delicious feeling to do so.

Those whiskey-brown eyes of his darken. With easy strength, Ghost claims your hips and bends you over on the rest of the couch, your elbows on the arm rest. He grabs hold of your lace thong and pulls. The delicate fabric rips away from your body in a loud shredding that tugs against your skin before it snaps.

You glance back and catch Ghost slipping your torn underwear into his jean pocket. A keepsake. You’re not even mad. In fact, it’s sexy knowing he wants to possess something of you after this.

“Be a good fucking girl for me and keep those legs open,” growls Ghost.

He won’t need to ask twice. You’ll be good for him because you want to be.

Ghost settles on his knees behind you, and you feel the couch sink under his weight. His hands go to your lower back and ease you forward a bit, tipping your hips upward so your bare pussy is pointed toward the ceiling.

Your head drops against your bicep, and your breathing increases to a point that it’s almost all you can hear. The pause between him settling behind you and the moment his tongue touches your pussy is excruciating. But when his tongue finally touches you, it’s wonderful, and fucking good.

Ghosts starts at your clit, swirling his tongue around that bundle of nerves before tracing a path upward. He leaves nothing untouched and only then does he slip his tongue inside your pussy.

You’re completely open to him, and his grip on your hips is unyielding. Ghost is not letting you go, and you don’t want him to. You want to give in to the rapidly building orgasm that’s starting to pull at your resolve.

You push back on Ghost’s face but his hands hold you still, keeping you in place. He is setting the pace. He is taking his time. You’re at his mercy. Ghost’s tongue rotates in quick circles inside your cunt before retreating to trace the folds on your labia, and then sliding down to flick against your clit.

Ghost focuses in on it as his left hand drifts over the curve of your ass. His thumb presses against the entrance to your pussy before slipping in. Your body gives easily, sucking that digit down until he’s in to the knuckle. The rest of his hand squeezes and kneads your flesh, and all of this together is enough to make your head spin.

Through heavy lids, your gaze falls on the trio of mirrors along the back wall. In the glass, you have an unobstructed view of what Ghost is doing to your pussy. You watch as his tongue swirls against you. You see the exact moment he sucks your clit into his mouth to gently roll it between his lips. You witness the pumping of his thumb and how his hands hold you.

Even as you observe all of that in the mirror, you also notice the massive bulge in his pants and the small piece of your underwear that peeks out from his jean pocket.

Ghost turns his head, and his gaze meets yours in the glass. The corner of his mouth turns upward in a knowing grin, and then his mouth comes down on your pussy with a renewed vigor that sends you tumbling over the precipice.

The whimpered cry that rolls up your throat and bursts forth from between your lips is muffled by your elbow. Your pussy squeeze around Ghost’s thumb even as he continues to suck on your clit through your orgasm. His actions only prolong it, and the sharp bite of the touch has the muscles in your thighs tighten with tension.

An aftershock shudders through you, and then Ghost’s thumb and mouth retreats.

It’s a momentary reprieve. His hand curls around the front of your neck and then you’re yanked upright only to be pressed against his chest.

Ghost grabs the lower half of your face and turns you enough that he can claim your mouth with his drenched lips. You taste yourself and you hardly care. You open for him and Ghost dips his tongue inside your wanton mouth.

His hand on your hip slides forward to cup your mound, and Ghost’s leverage only pushes your ass harder against the bulge in his jeans. You feel the outline of him, and just how large he is.

“Don’t cover your mouth,” rasps Ghost against your mouth. His hand on your pussy slides down a bit more until his index and middle finger slip into your cunt. Ghost is reward with the wet surrender of it, and you feel his grin against the corner of your mouth. “I want to hear every sound you make.”

You’re trapped against him, and it’s not fair. Ghost has touched and tasted you. Why can’t you have the same.

“I want to taste you,” you plead, voice breaking slightly. “Just like you tasted me.”

Ghost groans and slides his hand away from your pelvis. His hold on your neck eases. He slips away, and as he does, you turn, watching as Ghost reclines on his back against the armrest.

“Then come here and find out,” purrs Ghost, his eyes nearly black as the words fall from his lips.

He does not remove his belt or loosen the front of his jeans. Ghost’s hands remain on his thighs. You’re taking the lead on this, and you’re more than happy to do so.

You don’t work quickly. You take your time, making sure not to fumble the belt or fastenings on the front of his black jeans. When the belt is gone, the button undone, and the zipper down, you slip your hands beneath the denim and Ghost lifts his hips so you can slide his jeans down enough to find your prize.

Ghost’s hard cock springs free, and your eyes widen at the size of him. He’s not stupidly large, but there is plenty of length and girth there. Even though you’re slick between the thighs, he’ll have to ease in with some care.

Reaching out, you grasp the base, and Ghost hisses, his head falling back slightly with pleasure as you palm him. You pump him a few times before leaning in to kiss the tip. A pearly bead of precum blooms in the slit, and you eagerly lick it up with the tip of your tongue. Another blooms in its place, and you swirl your tongue around the flared head before licking the entire length from base to tip.

Teasing, and slow, you learn Ghost’s flavor. It is addictive, and you want him to understand how much you enjoy just enjoying him like this. You work between soft, open kisses and slow licks of your tongue.

Once Ghost is a fidgeting mess beneath you, that is when you take him in your mouth in earnest. You take the head of him into your mouth and hold him there, allowing the saliva to collect. Satisfied, you swallow him down, your lips touching your hand.

Hollowing your cheeks, you slide back up, and then repeat the process, bringing in your hand to pump him in time with your upward passes.

You are messy. Eager. Enthusiastic. It’s entirely clear you’re having an effect on him because Ghost’s hand falls against the top of your head and he groans loudly, nearly choking on the end of it.

Ghost does not force you down on him, but his fingers tangle in your hair, and then he’s gripping your locks in a vice-grip, as if your hair is his anchor in this moment. But he doesn’t tug. Ghost only guides it to one side of your head in a loving touching.

You suck hard, and Ghost’s hips thrust upward without warning.

“Fuck,” he gasps. “Fuck—stop. You’re gonna make me finish if you keep that up.”

Ghost’s cock falls from your mouth with a wet pop. The mixture of your saliva and his precum, coats your lips. A small string of it hangs from your bottom lip and connects to the head of his cock.

Ghost reaches out and runs his thumb over your lips to clean them. “Can I fuck you now? Properly?” His thumb is still on your lip.

You nod.

He shakes his head. “Say it. Tell me you want my cock.”

You swallow, and your throat aches. “Fuck me. Please, Ghost.”

Ghost digs around in his pocket and fishes out a condom wrapper. He tears it open and then rolls it down his length right before your eyes. He grabs your upper arms and tugs you into his lap.

“Hold onto me,” he says, releasing your arms.

Your hands immediately go his chest. His own hands go to your hips and then he’s lining you up, the head of his cock sinking in. He splits you open, stretching you deliciously, making you moan loudly.

“You can take it. I know you can,” he rasps as more of him slides inside.

Your pussy flutters around him.

“That’s it,” he coos. “You’re doing so well, love.”

Once your body starts to adjust to his size, Ghost thrusts up shallowly, retreating a bit before trying again. You’re sinking further down on him, and you never want to leave.

Ghost did say so. He said you’ll not want to part from him once his cock is buried inside you.

He is absolutely right.

Ghost takes control the moment he’s in to the hilt. Guiding your hips, Ghost bounces you on his cock in a steady, rhythmic pace. He sits up a bit and claims your mouth, grinding his hips upward in a circle, making you gasp against his open mouth. Ghost grins, and then his hands are sliding under your thighs, and he’s lifting you, moving with you as he stands.

Your knees are bent over his elbows, legs dangling in the air as Ghost brings the two of you into a standing position. Instinct has you reaching for him, arms connecting around his neck. Then, it’s all Ghost as he starts to fuck you.

From this position, you can watch as his cock slides in and out of your pussy. Your forehead rests against his and you cling on, being nothing but his toy.

“Fucking look at that,” growl Ghost, and you know exactly what he’s referring to. It’s not just the way he fits inside you but everything. He’s talking about the soft rolls in your stomach from your bent position and the way you hold on to him.

“Perfect,” he continues, his warm breath brushing against your cheek. “Made for me.”

Ghost’s hands are on your ass, supporting your weight, and now you truly understand just how strong this man is. Your back in to the mirror but you’d give anything for a glimpse of what the two of you must look like.

The very idea makes your pussy clench, and Ghost responds with animalistic growl that spurs him into action.

The two of you are moving again, this time Ghost lifting you off his cock and guiding you down onto the couch.

“Turn over. Hands and knees.” Ghost’s command is raspy and needy. It spurs you to action, causing you to comply without thought.

Ghost settles behind you, and then he’s inside again, this time pounding into you with a fierceness that has your toes curling. He has one hand on your hip while the other grabs the space between your neck and shoulder.

His pace is unrelenting, and the building tension within your body finally snaps. When you orgasm, it is an overwhelming sensation, as if your lungs are filling with water. You don’t even get a moment to drown.

Ghost is hauling you back into his lap, spreading you wide to the room.

“Look how fucking good you are,” growls Ghost into your ear. His gaze is fixed on the mirrors and you meet his eyes in the broken glass.

Your back is against Ghost’s firm chest, head resting against his shoulder, and your mouth brushing against his blackout tattoo. You are spread wide across his lap, legs parted, and feet firmly planted on either side of his thighs.

One arm is draped around his neck, and the other clings to the sofa cushion.

“Touch yourself, love. Show me how you play with yourself.”

Sighing, you give in, sliding your hand between your open legs to work yourself. In the mirror, below your fingers, your pussy is stretched, full of Ghost’s cock pumping in purposeful rhythm. When he pulls out, the condom glistens with your juices before disappearing back inside, hitting you somewhere deep.

Each thrust and every stroke of your hand sends a little tremor through your legs.

But it’s Ghost’s eyes that are the most captivating. He watches you in the mirror, and you are entirely lost to them. Those dark pools hold you in place. Your wraith is all you can see.

Ghost continues to rock his hips, upping the rhythm of his thrusts until your breath comes in short gasps of pleasure. Your eyes begin to close, eyelids fluttering with every tingle in your clit.

A bite at your earlobe surprises you. “Don’t. I want you to watch.”

You comply, though it’s incredibly difficult. You want to lean back and lose yourself in the moment entirely. Instead, you stay present and focused, watching Ghost take what he wants from your compliant body.

“Fucking perfect,” he purrs against your skin.

“So bloody fucking perfect,” he repeats as another stroke of your fingers against your clit has you clenching around him, pulling him further inside.

It’s enough to make you fall over the edge, and this is what does him in.

Ghost’s pace increases, his hands sliding under your thighs as his cock pistons upward into you. His face presses against your neck and he growls words of lust into your skin.

“Watch,” he pants. “I want you to pretend there is no barrier and I’m about to fill your perfect fucking cunt with my cum.” The slap of skin is loud and lewd in the room. “Imagine me leaking out of your pussy. Imagine that I’m about to fucking breed you like you deserve.”

His words are poison. They burrow into your bones, nestle like venomous snakes hiding in the leaves.

Ghost thrusts his hips upward as the same moment he slams you down on him, sinking himself to the base. Your nails dig into his forearms as Ghost bites down on the bare line of flesh between your neck and shoulder.

The two of you hold like that for a few moments, your chests heaving. Ghost kisses the spot where his teeth left marks. He nuzzles your neck as he lifts you off his cock. He is still a bit hard, and when he’s gone, there is a lingering soreness.

Gently, Ghost guides you over one thigh. Once settled, he removes the condom and ties it off, tossing it into the nearby trashcan.

The euphoria of the orgasm is starting to slip, and with it comes a slowly building realization.

How long have the two of you been down here? Are you friends looking for you? Are they worried? You didn’t check your phone for the time before running off with him. They could be searching for you. They could be frantic. Doesn’t matter that they encouraged you to fuck him. You didn’t tell them or give them any indication that you had followed through.

The serenity that comes post-orgasm evaporates and you’re left with a lingering sense of anxiety. You need to get out of this room. You need to go back.

You need to leave.

Ghost’s arms are still around your waist, and his hands move in slow circles, caressing your body in gentle comfort. It’s entirely too intimate, more like something a couple would do. It makes you want to run. To jump up from his lap and burst through the door.

This room is stale and you need air.

Without second guessing the decision, you break out of Ghost’s embrace, standing on wobbly legs. You face the mirror, and even though the balaclava is mostly back in place, his body language tells you all you need to know.

Ghost is shocked, his arms still extended like you’re about to fall right back into them.

You tug on your skirt, putting it back into place. You adjust your top and smooth out the winkles as best you can. Your hair is a mess, and you immediately grab for the hair tie on your wrist, putting it up into a messy bun.

“I need to go,” you say sharply, grabbing your jacket off the floor and tugging it on.

Ghost is silent for a second, and then he’s tucking himself back into his jeans, quickly grabbing at his belt as you snatch up your purse and start to tug the folding chair away from the door.

“Wait,” he says, starting to stand.

The folding chair gives and you shove it aside. Your hand is on the handle in moments, pushing it open, striding through.

“Wait!”

You don’t pause or look back. If you do, you might return to him, and that cannot happen.

Behind you, you hear Ghost swear softly. He’s likely grabbing his stuff to chase after you, but you’re already bounding up the stairs and back into the club before the outside door slams shut.

You rush across the dancefloor, desperately looking for any of your friends. You spot them near the exit. They stand in a half-moon, all of them looking at their phones. They look ready to leave.

You push through a dancing couple, not caring that they give you nasty looks. Evie glances up and the relief on her face is palpable.

“We’ve been trying to get ahold of you,” says Evie, lifting her phone. “We didn’t know where you were.”

“I can make a few guesses,” muses Sam, her mouth quirking into a smile. “Did you have fun?”

“Yes. I did.” It’s true. You won’t lie. It’s probably the best sex you’ve ever had. “We ready?”

“Tell us what happened,” says Sam.

“Did you get his number?” asks Jade. She bounces on her toes in eagerness.

“I’ll tell you all about it in the cab,” you say hurriedly, already heading for the door, quickly glancing over your shoulder. You don’t see your wraith. Ghost is nowhere in sight.

Sam shrugs, but the trio you follow you down the stairs and out onto street.

“Uber is here,” says Jade, nodding toward an idling car.

The driver rolls down the window and he and Jade strike up a conversation. Your blood is singing, and every inch of you is on edge. Will Ghost catch up to you? Will he cause a scene?

The opening of a car door pulls your attention away from the entrance to Riot Room. Same and Jade slide in, followed by Evie. You hop in behind her, slamming the door shut, sighing with relief now that you’re safely in the car.

As the Uber pulls away from the curb, you glance out the window.

Ghost is right there, descending the stairs as one of his friends chases after him. It’s the Scottish one whose name you didn’t catch. He grabs Ghost’s shoulder to stop him, but Ghost shakes him off, his gaze fixated on you.

Swallowing, you look away, stare straight ahead.

A sinking feeling creeps into your stomach. The sense of something new starting hasn’t gone away. It is incomplete. Unfinished.

But you’re already down the street, and Sam is pushing you for information. Your lips are dry, and your throat aches.

When your lips form the shapes of the words you tell your friends, all you can think about is your wraith, and the look in his eyes when you glanced at him through the car window.

You saw outright rejection. Not a rejection of you, but a rejection of the situation.

His gaze spoke of a promise.

A promise that whatever this is…it isn’t done.

Chapter One // Chapter Three

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @lialacleaf @sharkbitesblog @coffeecaketornado

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running-with-kn1ves · 3 months

Text

Masterlist~~ (OG Work)

ADVISATORY WARNING: This list potentially deals with yandere behavior, violence, death, non/dub-con, NSFT, etc.! Please read at your own risk.

Male love interest

Yandere! Killer Clown X Reader

Yandere Boyfriend X Insecure! Reader

Photographer X Reader

Stalker X Reader

Photographer X Reader

Masked Intruder X Reader l Masked Intruder X Reader Pt. 2 l Masked Intruder X Reader Pt. 3

Virgin! Best friend X Reader (NSFT!)

Yandere Masochist X Reader (NSFT!)

(NSFT!) Jealous Boyfriend X Reader l (NSFT!) Jealous Boyfriend Pt.2 (Valentines day) X Reader

Yandere Best Friend X GN Virgin! Reader (NSFT!)

CRUSH(ED)

Yandere X Amnesiac! GN Reader

Cannibal X Reader l Cannibal X Reader pt. 2

Rich! Husband X Reader

Stalker X Reader

Possessive Delinquent X Reader l Possessive Delinquent X Reader Pt. 2 l Possessive Delinquent X Reader pt. 3

Secret Admirer X Reader l Secret Admirer X Reader Pt. 2

Childhood Friend! X Reader

Yandere Soulmate! X Reader

Male! Yandere x Servant Reader (Drabble)

Christmas Intruder X Reader

Fantasy

Orc Tribal Leader X Reader

Manticore X Reader

Doll X Reader

Elf(Cirdan) X Reader

Elf (Cirdan) X Reader Pt. 2 (NSFT!)

Satyr God X Human Reader

Satyr X Human Reader Pt. 2 (NSFT!)

Elf Lord X Entertainer! Reader

Orc X Guard! Reader

Werewolf Elias X Reader

Werewolf Elias X Reader Pt. 2

Naga X Reader

Naga X Reader Pt. 2

Werewolf Boyfriend X Reader

Incubus X Human Reader

Alien X Reader

Alien X Reader (Pt.2)

Wraith X Reader

Mothman X Reader

Plant Creature X Reader

Shapeshifter X Reader

Symbiote Armor X Reader

Vampire X Reader

Mermaid X Reader

Female love interest

Baroness X Maid! Reader

CEO X Reader l CEOX Reader Pt. 2 l CEO X Reader Pt. 3 l CEO X Reader Anniversary l CEO X Reader Drabble

(NSFT!) Kidnapper (Maeve)X Fem! Reader

Fantasy

Dark Fae X Reader

Vampire X Reader

Cat Girl X Reader

Nymphs X Reader

Drider X Reader

Medusa X Blind! Reader

Lycan Gangster X Reader

Lamia X Reader (NSFT!)

AFAB! Reader

Ex-husband X Pregnant Fem! Reader

(NSFT!) Robot X Fem! Reader

(NSFT!) Kidnapper Drabble AFAB

AMAB! Reader

(NSFT!) Kidnapper Drabble AMAB

Male + Female Love Interest

Incubus + Succubus X Reader

Male! Yandere X GN Reader X Female! Yandere

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lady-ashfade · 1 year

Text

The little ear

Kaz brekker x male!reader

This was just to get me back into writing, and also I needed to feed the males something. Also yes I know the title is funny and weird.

Warnings; Flirting, kinda oc kaz.

There was only one person who knew of you, Inej. Kaz had hired you a few times, a little ear for things he needed to know. But that’s as far as it went, you weren’t a crow but a waiter at a bar a few blocks away.

“I need you to watch out for him. There will be a few men heading his way tonight, protect him at all cost.” Kaz was simple with his information. The only thing she knew was your name and where you would be.

And it was exactly like kaz had said, three men followed you out of the bar and into the alleyways. Inej stop them from hurting you, and you didn’t seem that startled by her appearance. “You must be the wraith.” You smirked at her.

“Well, thank you for your service. Come visit me at work sometime and I’ll give you a free meal.” You looked at the men passed out on the stone ground and walked over them. “And tell kaz, that I miss his pretty face.” Winking at her you left without another word.

After that she did see you more. Inej actually was comforted by your presence when she would come and see you. But, the tension between you and kaz was anything but hidden. Kaz sent her to you all the time, asking about you each time she would go on her own. And you constantly smiled when talking about him, or throwing comments around. So when the rest of the crows got to meet you, it surprised them.

“What can I get you?” You leaned over the table and filled their cups with water.

“I have a job for you.” Kaz looked up at you with the dull expression. “Hmm, and what’s that handsome?” Leaning on your hands you flirt with him.

Inej smiled but the rest looked at each other as if someone crazy happened, and it did. Kaz title his head and smirked up at you, “When does Thomas Lam come here?”

Jesper looked like his head was going to explode, kaz was flirting back. Wylan was just sitting back and looking between the two of you, Nina was smirking but frozen and couldn’t wait to tease kaz about it. Matthias knew the look in his eyes, the same look he gives nina.

“Every Wednesday in the afternoon, then on Saturday when the place opens. He likes the freshly baked pies.” You bring your eyes away from him and then look at the others with a smile. You asked them what they wanted and they stayed quiet, except for Nina who needed her food.

“I need you to come with us to his mansion, you’ll get Inej in because they know your face. You’ll deliver a box in the kitchen and then Inej could get around and let us in.” He was more of asking if you where up to it then telling.

“What’s in it for me, brekker?” They all could see the mischievous look in your eyes as you leaned closer to him.

“Money.” He stated. Kaz could help but flicker his eyes down to your lips as you smirked.

“I need to get back to work, and when I return you should have a better offer.” They all watch you walk away and into the kitchen doors.

After a few seconds of silence between the table the group broke out into giggles, kaz looked at them confused. Inej smiled that they caught on quickly and saw what she had to for mouth.

Kaz raised a brow and asked them what they were laughing at, his face looked annoyed. “That was painful.” Jesper admitted and hit his chest. “I never expected to see kaz that way.” Wylan said beside his boyfriend and held onto his arm.

“If you don’t offer yourself as payment kaz, I will knock you over the head.” Nina winked at him and he groan and told them to shut up. But they did not stop and continued to make fun of him and talk about it.

Kaz turned away from them and glared at the ground. He was going to make sure to never bring them here again.

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x male!reader #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #matthias helvar #nina zenik #the crows #six of crows x reader #six of crows #the siz of crows #x male reader #shadow and bone x reader

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acourtofmenandthirst · 1 year

Text

Show Them

Tamlin x Reader. If you don’t like it, don’t read it :) I feel like after all of the events of books 2-5, he’s learned how and why he was wrong, and he’s been kicked a lot while he was down. It’s about time for him to redeem himself and find love too ok?? So here is my rendition of the start of his redemption arc.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death, trauma

Word Count: 8.7K

You huffed a sigh, wiping your hands at the hem of your thin dress, ridding yourself of the flecks of mud and dry blood. With a squint, you picked at your palm, trying to pull the thick wooden splinter from your skin. Fourth one in an hour, you rolled your eyes to yourself, glaring at the pile of wood and debris - what previously held the roof over your head.

You eyed the deep scratches embossed in the wood, the ones that no doubt belonged to the Naga that roamed the nearby forest. They’d looted and torn your house to the ground, much like your neighbor’s home and the shops in the town. After the High Lord had disappeared years ago, the hierarchy had fallen - there were no more sentries to guard the village, to threaten the Bogge and keep the wraiths at bay.

Not that you had many belongings, but you needed to find as much food as you could. You dug around for scraps of food, money, jewelry - anything of value that you could trade for shelter. But fuck, you came up with nothing. Your house was nothing but a pile of dust, all your belongings gone with it. And it was getting dark, the sun almost completely disappearing behind mountains in the distance.

You’d have to beg your neighbors for sanctuary, even if just for the evening. They were no doubt already locking up their homes and arming themselves with all the blades and spears they could find. Deciding you would return in the morning to continue, you turned away from the pile of remains - only for your eye to catch on a glimmer in the woods.

The shadows had already long fallen over the forest, the black of night seeping in from the treeline before you. You were met with a pair of eyes, glowing and bright green, the golden sunset mirrored in the glossy shine.

Your breath hitched in your throat, your heart stilling in your veins. There were many creatures that roamed the Spring woodlands, many more creeping in on the territory now that it lacked a High Lord. The water wraiths from the Summer Court encroached in the waters; after hearing that their neighboring sisters no longer paid the Tithe, they swam over in droves. Some were shifters, moving onto the unprotected lands to mark for themselves, others were sirens, with shimmering eyes that promised the brightest future, so beautiful that they lured the young Spring males to the coast, robbing and drowning them for pleasure.

But these eyes were different, a deep emerald, slanted inwards and narrowed - canine, feral. Studying its prey, waiting for attack. You’d heard rumors of the Autumn Court hounds, the ones Beron and his sons roamed around with. How they could track Fae down between courts, tear their throats out without even revealing themselves - some were rumored to have two heads. But you watched those shining green eyes until the beast turned away, tucking itself back between the trees and disappearing into the darkness.

___________________________

You were back on the street at the break of dawn, graciously thanking the family that housed you for the night, offering to bring them anything valuable you could find from home’s wreckage. You kicked at the dry sticks and stones on the dirt road leading to your little plot of land, cursing at the fallen trees and dying brush.

It seemed the Spring Court curse wouldn’t be lifted any time soon. You’d worn a godsdamned mask for years - a doe: the most innocent animal of Spring, silent and small in a court full of sly foxes and brash wolves. The supposed cursebreaker returned to your court only to tear it apart from the inside out, playing spy for the Night Court the whole time. The Autumn Court emissary had left and your High Lord had disappeared - no heir or kin left behind. He abandoned you all and took his power with him.

Some said he left and sought refuge in the Summer Court - that only Tarquin would be kind enough - naive enough - to offer him solace. Others thought he died, that Feyre killed him and there was nobody else to take the powers of the High Lord. You weren’t sure you believed either of those rumors. Nobody was brave enough to tread to Tamlin’s manor and find out for themselves; only the Mother knew what creatures resided there, Fae or otherwise.

The pile of wood and stone remained untouched overnight, you had to drag yourself over to your old land. It wasn’t worth anything, nothing was anymore. It felt barbaric, almost: digging through the mud and destroyed earth for something to barter with. It seemed that your court had been through nothing but devastation since you’d been alive. You were only just a hundred years old when the land was cursed by Amarantha - spent years in a mask followed by a stint under the mountain. When the curse was lifted, the Spring Court lasted about as long as the celebrations. As soon as life turned back to normal - whatever that truly was - the Night Court infiltration was exposed, Pyrthian was brought to war, and your home was destroyed.

You groaned, both of your hands wrapped around a heavy log of wood, surely it was the heaviest in the pile. You groaned, gritting your teeth as you tried (and failed) to move it. Your hands slipped, dry bark breaking off the wood beam, causing you to slip and fall backwards right on your ass. You cursed, denouncing the Mother. Perfect start to the fucking day, you’d thought. A whole day of failure awaits.

“Do you need a hand?”

Your head snapped up, nearly giving you whiplash as you turned to the side. You narrowed your eyes, the tall male standing just in front of where the sun was rising, shadow cast over his front. But you made out his light hair, glowing in the bright light, a halo cast around his head. His shoulders were so broad, his white shirt tight around his arms but loose around his waist, the fabric shifting as the wind blew past. He held a hand out to you, palm raised.

Your gaze dropped to his waiting hand, which you gladly took. His skin was rough, calluses around his palms and over his fingers. He pulled you to your feet, almost too easily, and had you balancing over the pile of bricks and shingles. “Thanks,” you mumbled, releasing his hand and brushing the dirt off the bottom of your dress. No use - there were days old mud stains all over it already.

“Is this your home?” His eyes surveyed the debris you both stood over, face still shadowed from the sun.

You rolled your eyes. “It was,” you’d scoffed, propping your hands on your hips. The male frowned, his shoulders hunched a bit. You cocked a brow at him, at the rainy evergreen smell that cascaded off of him. His blond hair was unkempt, sun-frayed and tangled at the ends. You took a step closer, onto the large wooden beam that had just bested you.

“Sorry,” he murmured, cheeks tinged pink, chin tilted downwards. Ashamed.

You nodded, standing taller, walking across the wood so you were positioned on the other side of him. The male turned with you, not allowing his back to face you. He mirrored you, perhaps in self defense, as you looked like you were the one scouting your prey. His features became sharper as he faced the sunrise, shadows looming over his face now washed away.

Those emerald green eyes watched you carefully, narrowed, just like those from the forest. His sharp brows furrowed as he watched you assess him, as you put together the pieces rather quickly.

“What would you be sorry for?” You questioned the High Lord. “Did you knock down my house?”

Tamlin didn’t respond, just stood in front of you, those light eyelashes caressing the tops of his high cheekbones as he blinked at you. His jaw clenched, tongue ran over the back of his sharp teeth as he mulled over something to say, only to come up short.

You took his lack of response as an answer in the negative. “Then you have nothing to apologize for.”

“I didn’t stop them,” he replied, voice hoarse. It was as though he hadn’t spoken in years, as if he’d spent far too long roaming the forest in his wolf form. His body was wracked with shame, remorse, and anguish. He didn’t feel the pain when he was outside his Fae form - he didn’t have to bear the anguish of witnessing what happened to his court while he disappeared into the brush.

You nodded in agreement. And while you spent these past hundred years angry, just so frustrated at what had become of your life, you couldn’t find yourself to be upset with him.

Your home had been destroyed, your family gone, everything from the life you once had stripped away entirely. But what could you do? The past had already come and gone, there was nothing you could do to change it.

The male before you felt the opposite, though. His mind was reeling with the resurgence of the memories from the past century. The masks, his friend and former lover gone - ran away to the Night Court, to the male that had murdered his family - under the mountain, the war, the Cauldron.

Gods, all of it was his fault.

His court was destroyed, but it wasn’t the war, it wasn’t the other High Lords infringing on his territory. No, it was all him. It was the lack of his presence in his court that destroyed it from the inside out. And looking at your face, the dirt smudged over your brow, your cheeks splotched from spending days in the sun without shelter, he’d wanted nothing more than to tuck his tail between his legs and disappear back into the woods.

But you were too captivating, your gaze leveled him completely. You didn’t tear into him, didn’t yell at him, didn’t hit him, not the way he knew so many others wanted to. He didn’t know how to help you, how to apologize for abandoning his court. He didn’t have any money to give you, no doubt he assumed the Spring Court estate had been robbed and looted. He wasn’t sure what valuables were even left anyway, after passing on money and jewels to the Archeron family.

“I’d like to help you…” Tamlin trailed off, the words lost. His eyes roamed over the fallen house the two of you stood on. “Rebuild.” His green eyes flitted back up to you, to the doubt and surprise laced over your features. You swallowed, shoulders shrugged in indifference. Gods, you probably hated him. Wanted nothing to do with him. “If you’ll let me.”

“I’m not sure what there is to rebuild,” you replied, kicking at some stone with your dirty boot. “I’m just looking for...” What were you looking for? “Anything.”

Tamlin nodded in understanding. He wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting to come back to, didn’t know what he would stumble upon after he’d returned to his home court. While he was no stranger to being alone, to feeling like an outcast, utterly unworthy of his position in life, he’d never been able to relate to his old friend Lucien so much. While the Vanserra had been banished from his home court, Tamlin felt like the Spring subjects would band together and exile him from his own court, too.

But the male stood still, nothing but the wind blowing his tousled hair around his sharp jaw. He was surely waiting for you, for your permission to return to his life in Spring - a new life, perhaps: a chance to rebuild your home and his life. He needed to earn his place as the High Lord, hell - he needed to learn what it meant to be a leader, to earn the trust of the Spring citizens.

“Well, help me move this, then,” you said simply, gesturing to the dark wood.

You’d quickly come to realize the male just had pent up anger, stress that may have been best relieved by throwing stone and brick around. He was quiet, not speaking unless you’d ask him a question or give him direction to move some debris. Tamlin watched you carefully, just as he had the other night, eyes glossy and pointed, observing how carefully you tended to anything that may have once had value to you. But you hadn’t made much progress, finding just scraps of clothing, a broken necklace, or some rotten food.

“I was in love once, too,” you stated out of nowhere. You kept digging through the pile of broken furniture and wood, head tilted downwards, eyes focused on the task at hand.

Tamlin’s ears perked up and he straightened, wiping his hands on his trousers to remove some of the mud that had caked his palms. He wiped at his brow, the sweat that had built up over the past few hours. He wasn’t sure what to say, you gave him nothing to work off of, offering nothing but confusion for the poor male.

You looked up at him only for a moment, plopping down on your ass with a sigh, resting your aching legs. “It can make you do some fucked up things.”

He almost laughed, would have, if it didn’t burn his throat on the way up. “Even more fucked up things once you’re out of it.”

The sound that pushed past your lips sounded like absolute heaven. It was the only salvation the male needed after years spent growling at beasts in the woods. The giggle that erupted from you - the pure surprise at the High Lord’s comment - it made his heart stop.

But he couldn’t help the deep stabbing feeling through his gut. Guilt. He shouldn’t be enjoying the sweet sound of your laughter, the shine of the sun in your hair, your pretty smile. He shouldn’t enjoy life anymore, not after what he did to yours - to everyones. It was why he shut himself out, far in the thick Spring forest, away from all salvation, any shred of comfort he might have been able to find. After Feyre had left, after Rhysand returned to twist the knife in his once stone chest, there had been no point, no return at High Lord once everything had crumbled.

“Well, Tamlin,” you sighed - the first time hearing his name on your lips. He quite liked the sound of it, but promised not to get used to it. “I think it’s about time we fix some of those fuck ups.”

He rolled his eyes, kicking a heavy log from the top of the pile. “And how do you suppose I do that?”

You huffed another breathy laugh, raising your head and squinting up at him, the sun risen nearly fully in the sky. “You do nothing,” you replied simply, propping your elbows on your knees. “We are going into town.” You opened your palm, that broken gold necklace

And Tamlin felt like folding himself in half and kneeling over that damn pile of rocks. The necklace you’d worked for hours to find ready to trade at the town center. He was absolutely sick. His mind flashed back to the days of the Tithe - how he sat atop his throne, gold jeweled crown atop his head, waiting rather impatiently for the Spring Court subjects to pay their dues. In a court where he did next to nothing to save them - after fifty years of looking for a way out of Amarantha’s plan - they still owed him.

Tamlin had a lot of regrets.

He didn’t know how to act, how to rule a court. Didn’t know how to save his people, how to make up for the lost years.

There was a lot to make up for - he knew it better than anyone.

He just didn’t know how.

You watched his mind reel, how his sharp green eyes fell to the pile of wooden scraps beneath his boots. His dark blond brows knitted together, lips pressed in a firm line, jaw clenched. His chest moved up and down with every breath he took, each one he forced in his lungs. The golden strands of his hair moved around his pointed ears, dancing over his shoulders in the wind.

“I don’t think I can,” he replied, voice just above a whisper.

You pushed yourself to your feet and reached out for him, for the tanned skin of his forearm. You held your fingers around his wrist, the touch shocking the male out of his daze. His breath caught, his mouth and throat suddenly ran dry. “You have to come back. You need to return to us.”

He tried to force himself to swallow, to will his voice to work and reply. To us. He was the only one who could fix what he’d fucked up. He didn’t know exactly how, but you were right. It would start with the return of the High Lord, with the promise of forgiveness from his subjects. He’d have to beg for forgiveness, pray that they would grant him amnesty.

He nodded though, which was all he could muster the strength for. He let you keep hold of his wrist - he didn’t even know how long it had been since another Fae had touched him - and guide him off the pile of debris, not missing how your boots skidded along the loose bricks. He reached out with his other hand to steady you, a firm hand on your hip as you stumbled to a halt, managing to remain upright.

By the Cauldron, you felt good. Warm, delicate, you smelled like the gardens after a fresh rain. He dropped his hand just as quickly, before his mind really fell into the gutter. Perhaps the years of solitude had finally gotten to him, he thought. He had officially gone mad. So he stayed composed, letting you drop his wrist from your hand - not without a backward glance at him.

“We’ll see what we can get,” you continued, beginning to walk towards the center of the town. You lived far enough on the outskirts that not many others passed by, none alerted to the fact their High Lord had returned. “The blacksmiths will probably be the only ones who will trade for it. Nobody really has use for gold anymore.”

He noted the drop in your voice, the bleakness that laced your tone. Tamlin walked only a half step behind you, yet he towered over you, his chest cleared above your head, shadow fully engulfing you. “How is the food supply?”

You knew it felt foreign for him, especially to ask now after years of his disappearance into the woods. But you could tell he was trying, gathering his bearings and reassessing the court - where he needed to start first. “Not great, honestly. There are only a few who have enough weapons to hunt in the woods.”

Tamlin knew all too well what lurked in the woods. They would be lucky if they could catch deer or rabbit, let alone an elk or mare. “I’ll see what I can manage to catch tonight,” he replied grimly, lips pressing into a frown. Under the moon was the best time to hunt, where there were surely no endangered Fae out, when the large beasts went to roam the woods, using the cover of night to avoid the hunters. The only thing that would be able to catch them lurked just behind you: a wolf.

You eyed the clouds that began to roll in overhead, dimming the sun’s bright light. “That would help,” you replied, hoping the words of encouragement would ease his mind, but not sound too desperate that they scared the male.

You walked the rest of the way in silence, peaceful albeit awkward. Tamlin’s fingers twitched at his sides - it was almost as though he barely remembered how to walk as a Fae male. You knew those green eyes that watched you from the forest were his. The second you saw the High Lord that morning, you realized you’d stared into his wolfish eyes - hungry and chilling, sad and remorseful.

His gaze shifted from left to right constantly, walking through the clutter of buildings and broken wood. Half the buildings had been looted, some torn down entirely. Fae gathered around stands and what was left of the remaining shops. He felt their eyes burning into him, heard the murmuring ringing in his ears. Some were confused, others outright scared, but none approached him.

You took Tamlin to the dim stone building, the only light pouring in from the window and cracks in the walls - no faelights or candles in sight. “He and his wife have the baked goods - there aren’t many other iron pans left in the town, he’s got the bulk of them.” Your eyes flitted around the shop, at the pile of iron ingots stacked on one of the tables. “I could never manage enough to get one, to bake my own bread over the fire.” You shot Talmin a sharp look, then eyed the shop owner across the room. “Good morning, Oleander,” you greeted the old male, hunched over a table lined with gleaming metal knives.

The hairs on the High Lord’s neck stood, a chill running down his spine at the sight of the swords hanging on the wall, the bows and arrows piled in the corner. “(Y/N),” he replied gruffly. “What brings you in?”

You turned back to Talmin, getting eyes on the male to ensure he was still in toe. “I was wondering what you might give me for this gold.” You held the necklace out to him, the cracked pendant and broken chain gleaming in your dirty palm.

“Ah,” he breathed, grabbing the necklace with his own filthy hand. “Given the condition, I’m afraid I can only give you…” He squinted at the old pendant, what seemed to be a depiction of the Mother with flowers braided throughout her hair. Tamlin’s mother once had a similar one. “Last week’s bread.”

“Old bread?” Tamlin couldn’t help but scoff, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

The blacksmith’s eyes show up toward him, as if his eyes and ears deceived him. Oleander, clearly half blind, squinted at the High Lord. “Do you have an issue with my pricing?” He questioned Tamlin - who was certainly not used to the bite back from his subjects. “I think I’m being more than fair to the female.” He looked Tamlin up and down.

“Fair?” Tamlin barked a laugh. “You own all of the weapons and food in the town and you’re telling me what’s fair?” He didn’t miss the sight of you backing up, right out of the corner of his eye. You inched towards the door, palms facing outwardly behind you, feeling as soon as your backside touched the door jam. Oleander stood, broad and burly, inching forward toward the both of you. By then, the shop had dimmed, dark clouds rolling over outside. The Fae had gathered around to watch, to see the High Lord for the first time in nearly decades.

“Oh,” he laughed, standing, grabbing one of the polished knives. He raised his voice and stepped closer to Tamlin, cornering him out the door in the same direction you were fleeing. “The High Lord has returned to preach on decorum.” Tamlin dropped his hands to his sides, unclenched fists, not looking to start the physical fight, but prepared to defend himself. He could surely take the old male on easily, even if he had been armed with half the swords in his collection. “After years of abandonment, of leaving his people to suffer at the hands of the beasts, he’s come to exhort fairness and righteousness.”

The Fae outside watched as you and Tamlin joined them outside the shop, many of their interests piqued at the sight of the golden haired male.

“He’s back?”

“I thought he had died…” “He would be better off that way.”

“Never thought I’d live the day I would rather see Beron than him.”

“Shut up, he’s returned to help.” “No way - he’s just going to start the Tithe again.”

There were giggles amongst the murmuring crowd, laughing surely at the old Fae male that had the High Lord backing out of his shop. There were no words he could say to ease the crowd, to change their minds, to earn their trust. He wanted nothing more than to shift back into a wolf and hide away in the forest alone.

“We didn’t come to make trouble, Oleander,” you spoke up calmly, empty hands raised in surrender. “He’s come to make peace.”

He rolled his eyes, amongst another burst of whispering from the gathered crowd. “Peace,” he spat. “That’s what we all used to know before he abandoned us and left us for dead.”

Tamlin’s jaw set, anger flashed through his eyes. There were some agreements exchanged by the other Fae. There were very few who sought to give their High Lord a second chance.

Fuck, second or third? Or fourth chance? Tamlin couldn’t count.

“We’re leaving, okay?” You inched closer to him, right until your shoulder pressed up against his bicep. “But please - ” you turned to face the crowd, what Tamlin could only assume were your friends, others you could consider almost family. “Please, just keep an open mind. If you’d been shunned, abandoned in the woods, you’d want us to accept you back.” There were a few nods, but many blank stares as you began walking away from the town, back towards the forest clearing. “No more hatred. We’ve had decades of spite, of shame.” Before you turned on your heel, before you grabbed Tamlin’s forearm to pull him away with you, you added: “Let us find peace again. Together: united as one court.”

Fuck, Tamlin thought. You’d spoken all of the things he should have said. He wondered if you’d practiced that little speech, if one day you secretly hoped he’d come back so you could preach that very surmon.

Tamlin pushed that thought far down in the depth of his mind.

But perhaps Oleander had a point. Perhaps they would all be better off taking care of themselves without the rule of an artificial High Lord. They surely managed to come this far. It wasn’t like Tamlin would be able to protect the town himself - he’d have to rebuild armies before infrastructure, to guard the town from the forest before they could sift through the remains of the down.

You’d dragged him along nonetheless, guiding him anywhere but the town. It was back toward your home - what remained of it, anyway. But the sky was grey by then, dark clouds shielding you both from the once bright sun. The soft crackle of thunder reverberated from the Summer Coast. “I’m - ” you cut yourself off with a sigh, dropping his arm, but continuing on your trek. “I’m not sure where we can get shelter for the evening. I don’t think anyone will let us stay for the storm.”

You were surely not on your way to make any amends, though. You just kept walking back towards your little plot of land, not that there was anywhere for you two to take cover until the rain washed away.

Tamlin kept his eyes trained in front of him, not daring to spare a look at your shining eyes as he spoke. “Follow me.”

So you did. You almost didn’t recognize it, afterall, it had been almost a century since you’d walked that path. Nature had reclaimed most of it, the trail completely gone. Tamlin’s long legs stepped over vines and fallen logs, and he held your hand for balance as you followed in his footsteps - he’d even lifted you through particularly muddy patches, simply lifting you up and placing you down before him like you weighed nothing.

The walk to his manor would have taken a mere half hour on horseback, perhaps just over an hour had the path remained. But it would take a few for the two of you to find your way back to the Spring Court Estate in the condition of the forest. Especially as the rain started to fall, the heavy droplets hard against your skin as they fell from the sky.

You walked for what felt like the whole first half in silence. Nothing but the sound of Tamlin slicing thick leaves and branches, clearing what he could from the once barren path. You listened to the rain, to your own ragged breath as you struggled to keep up with the male.

You watched his golden hair darken as it became damp with rain. His white linen shirt clung to his back and arms, you’d noted the ridges carved deep into his body as his muscles flexed, working around the forest that overtook the path. He slowed once the two of you stumbled upon a clearer area, falling into step beside you.

You could feel the tension radiating from him, his fists were clenched at his side, the hairs on his arms stood up. He wasn’t used to wondering the woods as a Fae, hell - he hadn’t been in Fae form in years. Those woods felt all too familiar to him out of his wolf form, reminded him of all the times he’d fucked up in that very spot. He needed to distract himself, clear away the memories of his friend Lucien, his once lover, his newfound family.

“I was in love once,” he said, voice gruff, muffled from the sound of the rain falling against the wide leaves. He repeated your sentiment from earlier - an acknowledgement of his past, perhaps even an apology. “But I’m pretty sure she was fucking my emissary.”

You’d nearly choked.

“That’s - uh - ” Gods, what do you say to that?

He shrugged. “My feelings for her weren’t fake,” he continued, nonchalantly, as though he’d had nothing but time to come to terms with what had transpired. You supposed he did, though, and were sure that was the only thing on his mind. “I just didn’t know how to act.”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to keep what little body heat you had, as the cold water sent shivers down your spine.

He shrugged. “Someone ought to hear the truth - ” Tamlin paused, only for a moment, as his green eyes narrowed in on the estate before you both. Trees covered the once stony walls, vines and thick ivy woven up all the windows and over the balconies. “You seem to be the only one who will listen.”

“I don’t not believe you, Tamlin.” You let him lead the rest of the way, pushing past the thick brush that guarded you from the estate as you neared the large castle. “Sometimes people aren’t who you think they are.”

At that, Tamlin dipped his head, turning to the side only slightly, just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your solemn expression. The rain had dripped down your face, over the curve of your nose and over your cheeks. He admired the way they clumped on your eyelashes, how you didn’t have a care in the world all covered in rain - perhaps you had more important concerns. Much too worried about where you’d sleep that night, where you next meal would come from, if you’d have shelter from the beasts, than to worry about his sob story.

But you caught his gaze from the corner of your eye, where you’d found those bright emerald eyes washing over your form. Shadows cascaded down his straight nose, his eyelashes nearly touching his cheekbones. You’d wondered if it was the wolf in him that gave him those long eyelashes and thick hair, his sharp teeth and chiseled jaw. He carried himself like a High Lord, shoulders back and chest puffed out - perhaps the closer he got to his home, the more normal he felt. It was a routine, the same path he’d often walked with his friends: Lucien, Bron, Alis, Hart, those that worked for him yes, but also the only ones he could consider truly his family.

Tamlin used the small knife he had to cut though the thick vines over the stairs. He’d moved each of the fallen logs, twice as heavy because they were waterlogged, and cleared the pathway to the front doors. He wanted to create a wide opening, should you decide in the middle of the night that you’d want to escape - run away from him, from the court. He didn’t want you to feel like a prisoner - he scoffed to himself, he apparently had a knack for that.

He’d opened the door for you, watching as you gathered the hem of your soaked skirts and your muddy boots squished against the stone steps. You nodded in thanks, unable to move your eyes away from the entryway. The ceiling was fully glass, and despite the rain and clouds, cast a looming light onto the marble walls and floors. The rain echoed in the walls, the fat droplets hitting the roof hard. The heavy curtains and canvases on the walls had been ripped to shreds, rock and stone cracked and scattered along the hallways. The grand staircase was broken, missing a few steps, the railing half gone.

You wondered what war went on here, while Tamlin tried to forget exactly that.

He hadn’t been to his home in years. But he knew what would be left to salvage, the rooms he’d lost the energy to tear completely apart. So Tamlin followed you in, guiding you down one of the corridors. “We should be able to find some blankets and clothes this way,” he said, voice just above a whisper. It was so deep that it vibrated in your bones, sending shivers down your freezing spine.

He’d stirred you through the wide halls, pulling you away with a firm hand on your hip when you’d tried to move toward the great dining room. His hand was hot on your waist, right at the curve of your back as he pulled you one step closer to him. “Not that way.” His eyes were fixed on the mahogany doors, hiding whatever may lie beyond. While he was almost certain he’d left you with the idea there may be Naga or wolves or some other beasts beyond those walls, he didn’t want to correct you with the truth. The gross truth that that’s where he left the elk Rhysand brought him so long ago, no doubt rotted away and disintegrated into the table - that, or it would have been swept away by some creature, perhaps for food or simply to play with its carcass. Either way, he didn’t want to find out.

There were holes in the roof, in the floors above, that leaked through the halls. You stepped around the puddles, dodging the stream of rain that fell from the ceiling. Tamlin pushed open one of the many doors in the long hallway, a dark bedroom on the other side. “It’s not my room, don’t worry.”

You turned up to face him. He looked weary, uneasy being back in this estate. “I wasn’t worried, Tamlin.”

He released a breath, his chest visibly falling at your words. He followed you in, closing the door to shut out the cold that the rain had brought to Spring. He’d brought you to one of the guest rooms, never had been occupied by a member of his court. It went untouched during Tamlin’s rage, there had been no evidence of life to destroy. He’d managed to rummage around and quickly find some candles, digging through drawers and closets to find a dry book of matches.

While Tamlin lit the room, you were drawn to the soft couch in the corner, pulling every blanket and piece of cloth you could find. Gods, it had been so long since you had a good night’s rest, since you sat on a plush sofa and had the softest blankets around you. But you had to wait. Your dress was soaked, you’d been dragging water and mud behind you that whole time. “Do you have any…” you trailed off with a sigh, assuming the male didn’t have any spare dresses lying around.

You actually would be more concerned if he did.

“There may be something,” he replied, picking up on your predicament. He sifted through the armoire again, the flickering candles aiding his search. He’d come up with some clothes, a few linen pants and loose shirts. He held everything out to you, a pile of clean fabric.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d worn clean clothes. Tamlin noted how your eyes widened, like you’d hit the jackpot, like you’d never seen pajamas before - clean clothes. He cursed himself once again for cursing his people, for abandoning them and forcing them to live in destroyed homes and a looted town.

You pulled a handful of clothes from his offering, your wet skin crying out for warmth. “There’s a bathing chamber that way.” He nodded to the door far off in the corner. “Doubt there’s any water but…” he trailed off with a shrug.

“Thank you,” you replied, legs practically begging to take you to the bathroom and change into the pajamas. So you’d scurried away, grabbing a candle to light your way into the bath chamber. The mirror was cracked, covered in dust. But you quickly shucked off your wet dress, grabbing the shirt from the pile and wiped yourself dry, wringing out your hair in the fabric. You pulled on the next shirt, the huge cotton long-sleeve that fell halfway down your thighs. No doubt it had been designed for the High Lord, perhaps even his emissary. But you’d take what you could get, throwing on another shirt for warmth, then the linen pants. You fisted the waist, pulling one of the strings from your dress bodice to tie the pants snugly around your waist.

Through the dirty mirror, you made out the dark circles under your eyes, your tired eyes and wild hair. You suppressed a sigh, too tired to care one bit. So you returned to the drawing room, finding the High Lord in a fresh set of clothes as well.

He was trying to busy himself, sifting through the pile of blankets you’d managed to create, even adding a few more to your pile. He didn’t want to be rude, to fall onto the soft couch or bed without first making sure you were taken care of.

His heart stopped when he turned, seeing you swimming in the Spring Court clothing, even just those too-large pajamas. You looked so relieved, so comfortable and, honestly, ready to pass out for the evening. So he cleared his throat: “You can have the bed.” It was all he said, added a head nod towards the other end of the room, where the mattress was, nothing but some sheets atop it. “I was going to give you these.” He gestured to his pile of blankets. All the soft looking ones in one pile, the thin scratchy material separated behind him.

“We can share the bed, no?” You made your way toward him and grabbed an armful of the blankets he’d folded. “We could both use the nice bed, I’m sure. I imagine it’s been longer for you than me.”

Tamlin cocked a brow, watched as you trudged over to the bed, dumping everything atop it. “I’ve managed just fine.”

You glanced over your shoulder at the male. “Bring those other ones,” you called out, ignoring her words. “We’ll probably need them if this rain doesn’t let up.”

Tamlin shook his head to himself but did as told, not in the mood to argue with the female, especially not the beautiful one wearing his clothes. So he brought over the rest of the blankets, even the scratchy ones, and helped you make the bed. It was haphazard, sure, some of them not big enough to cover the whole bed, a patchwork of covers, some yours, some his, then the ones stitching you together down the middle.

You climbed in immediately.

The sigh you let loose from your lips almost had Tamlin on his knees before you. Your back cracked when you laid down, plush mattress cushioning your spine in a way you hadn’t felt in a long while. You slept on the hard wooden planks of your neighbor’s floor since your house had been torn down, freezing and stiff. You hadn’t remembered the last time you’d had a full nights rest.

The same went for the male beside you. He’d been holed up in some cave on the Spring-Autumn border, where the wind whistled past and the cold seeped through the rock into his bone. His thick golden fur only did so much to protect him from the chill. He was surprised he hadn’t gotten himself killed out there, and he didn’t even want to think about everything he himself had killed in those past years.

“What made you come back?” Your soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts, he blinked a few times before pulling the covers back and joining you on the opposite end. He was careful to leave space, to not encroach. His palms caught on the scratchy fabric of the blanket he’d laid on his half, calluses hard and broken, left from his many years of tearing apart flesh with his paws.

“I was tired of being a coward,” he replied humbly. “I ran away from everything that happened. Pretended like it never happened and shut myself away.” He ran a hair through his half-dried hair, fingers getting tangled at the ends.

“You were alone?” It was a cross between a question and a statement, he wasn’t sure which you were going for - probably the former.

“I’ve been alone my whole life. Everyone I come across either leaves or tries to kill me.”

He felt you turn, shift on your side to gaze at him with what little light remained of the candle. Tamlin kept his eyes trained on the covers above him, unable to face the pity that probably laced your features. “Did they try to kill you?” Your voice shook, afraid to even ask the question, terrified of the response.

He offered you a half shrug. “They left…willingly,” he’d added, mulling over the words in his head. “Though I suppose I not-so-willingly let them. I don’t know how to keep friends, it seems.”

“I suppose that’s better than the other option.”

Them killing him. “Better when it’s not your own family, too.” It was no secret the previous High Lord had a knack for starting wars, for sending his sons to fight his battles for him. Tamlin had a reputation far before his powers even matured - his brothers’ even more so. But what you didn’t know was that they were ready to kill him the instant he matured into a stronger male. He wasn’t glad they were dead, but he was glad he was safe - even if only for a little while. He had found few friends before the curse, a lover afterwards, even. But just like his father and brothers, he could not show love, no matter how hard he willed it, he kept fucking up.

That’s what it felt like, at least. He supposed he was the jester of the Spring Court in the end. The friends he’d had and the lies they told him: you never made me feel like a prisoner - her voice rang in his head. Soon they were gone, twisting the opposite tale to the male that murdered his family. Nothing could be forgiven in Prythian, no reconciliation to be made between courts. There was no coping, no help from his friends, no one to confide in. So he did the only thing he knew how: shut himself out. Just like he had his former lover, keeping her safe in that very estate.

He kept every Fae who remained in Spring safe from himself, even if that meant casting himself into the woods.

You shifted only a bit, but close enough that you reached over and tucked your soft blanket around his shoulders, over his chest that had nearly gone cold from the rain and chill outside. You were close enough that Tamlin could pick up on your flowery scent, that he noted the small hint of honey and cherry blossom lingering along your skin.

It had been so long since he’d touched another Fae, since he felt someone care for him. He couldn’t help it - his head fell onto your shoulder, right where the crook of your neck met your collarbone, a perfect fit for the crownless male. “And how have you fared, Tamlin? Now that you are a free male?”

Free.

Free from what? From his duties as a High Lord, surely he’d abandoned them years ago, letting the Naga and the beasts of the Spring Court take over the sacred land. Free from Amarantha’s glamor, the shackles she’d chained him with under the mountain? Free from the binds she kept on his mind, the nightmares - memories - he relived each evening?

He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be free from it.

He didn’t know how to cope. Not when the only people he’s ever cared about left. Not when his best friend left him when he clearly needed the most help, not when his lover left to wed his mortal enemy, then bare his child. But he apologized to her, for all the trauma he must have caused, locking her away, fearful of who else from Prythian would come to spite him by taking away the female he loved, by he saving her mate.

He cursed himself. Surely, someone ought to have a happy ending. Might as well have been her.

He was upset, in fact. When it all came down to it, everything was traced back to his anger. He was blind to his own emotion, it’s what caused him to act without thinking - a strategy he’d never seemed to master, not like the other High Lords. It ended up causing him his newfound family, his Court, it got the Archeron sisters caught and thrown into the Cauldron, it spurred the war. He was a failure, he’d lost the Spring Court and his pride alongside it. He’d been played like that godsdamned fiddle.

And Tamlin let himself lie in that dark cave night after night, rotting in a lifetime of regret.

He could only shake his head, nose rubbing against your skin that poked out from the loose collar of your - his - shirt. “I swear I will rebuild the Court, (Y/N),” he whispered, breath warm on your skin. His lips just barely touched your skin as he spoke. “I promise it, I’ll run the beasts out and fix the mess I’ve made. Even if nobody believes me, if they’ve lost all faith in me.”

Your hand fell downwards over the blanket you’d placed over him, fell down the soft fabric over his chest. “Actions, not words.” He tilted his head up, and those deep green eyes met yours instantly. His gaze washed over your face, over the sheer determination and strength, but in utter admiration as you spoke. “Show them.”

You lifted your hand, fingers twitching in hesitancy, but your mind worked too fast. You brushed your hand over his cheekbone, over the strong jaw and tanned skin. He nearly shivered, nearly broke out in a godsdamned sob.

Tamlin was fighting to keep his emotions intact, to stop himself from absolutely crumbling apart in the safety of your arms. He slowly shifted upright, sitting beside you, back against the headboard just as you sat. You never moved your hand, save for your thumb running over his cheek, tracing where the light stubble had grown in over his jaw and cheek.

His own hand fell to your hip, safely above the covers. But the added weight of him caused the shift, the simple weight of his large hand on you sparked something inside of you.

So you leaned in.

You didn’t know what it was. If it was the fact you’d hadn’t been held in years, the fact you laid in bed together, cold from the rain and nearly out of candles. If it was the fact that he’d opened up for what probably was the first time ever, the male with the worst reputation - his ill temper, his tendency to fight, how godsdamned beastly was - laid out and vulnerable in your arms.

Your lips met his softly, a firm enough kiss where you felt equally matched, as if he, too, was waiting for you to do it; but soft enough that he would pull back if you did, that he would restrain himself from going further, should you realize you’ve made a mistake.

You did the opposite, though, barely breaking away for breath, parting your lips just enough to gasp for air before pushing against him once more. Your hand raked through his long hair, so Tamlin had no choice but to do the same. His fingertips wove through your own hair as his hand rose from your hip to cradle your jaw, tilting your head to the side.

He tasted sweet, not what you were expecting from the male whose scent lingered with the sultry forest and fresh morning dew. He was gentile, too. His tongue moving only to trace your bottom lip, nothing more. Your lips moved over each other in sync, breathing in tandem and letting those soft sighs escape between the two of you.

You pulled him closer, winding your other arm around his neck as you laid back, sliding further onto the bed where he had to drop a hand beside you to hold himself up. But he kissed you anyway, like you were the last breath of life for that dying male.

Perhaps you were giving him life, that spark he needed to reignite the male inside of him who he once was.

Your hand trailed down his chest as he continued deepening the kiss, lips moving quickly over yours, growing hungrier, more desperate. You fisted at his loose shirt, not even bothering to untie it, just slipped your hand underneath from the bottom where it hung so loosely from his body. His abdomen shivered under your touch, your fingertips tracing the hard rigid muscle. Tamlin sighed against your mouth, trying (and failing) to suppress the groan that built up in the back of his throat.

So he’d pulled away, the sound of your lips parting from his loud and wet, a sound he’d practically forgotten about over the past decades spent alone. His forehead dropped against yours and you felt the tickle of his hair against your cheek. “I can’t - I’ve already caused too much destruction. I’ll hurt you.”

It didn’t feel real - he had to stop himself, break free of the dream he was surely living in. Another female, not only giving him the time of day, but who cared for him without even knowing him. He huffed a loose laugh, and muttered to himself: “I’m going mad.”

His lips were still far too close to yours. They barely touched as you spoke. “Take it out on me.” You tilted your jaw up, just barely high enough to capture his lips with yours. “I can take it, Tamlin.”

He shivered, I’ve heard that before. “I don’t want you to have to.”

You peered up at him where he gazed down adoringly at you, from underneath those long light eyelashes of his. He’d bent down for one more kiss, all his passion put behind that one last time of your lips pressed together.

He only pulled away when he ran out of air.

He slotted down beside you, his arm curled under your shoulders, the other crossed above the blankets, the piles of soft and scratchy ones, and fell over your bodies to rest on your hip. You fell asleep with your face buried in his chest and your arm flung around him, dreaming of the promise tomorrow held.

#tamlin #tamlin acotar #tamlin x reader #tamlin x you #tamlin/reader #tamlin/you #tamlin fanfic #tamlin oneshot #tamlin one shot #tamlin imagine

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thelittleangel · 2 months

Text

Cowboys are frequently (secretly) fond of each other

Part 2

Tags: Dean Winchester x Cowboy! Reader, fluff, flirting, male reader, soft romance.

Warnings: possibly OOC, no use of Y/N.

Taglist: @wraith-posts @waywardseraph @agroovygoose @pumpkinhead666

He looked at me, then at my father, then back to me. I focus on my hands on the table. My father was the first to speak. “I’ve been tracking this thing for a while.” I open my mouth, choking on the lump in my throat. “What is it?”

My father looks over at me. “A vampire.” I start thinking back to all of the evidence of the last case. “But that doesn’t make sense. It was an animal that was killed, not a person.”

“Son, with all due respect, I've been on this case a lot longer than you.” I looked up at him in shock. “How long have you been in town, dad?” He looked over at me, his expression kept neutral. “How long?” I demanded. His expression turned into something more solemn. “Two weeks.”

“Two weeks? And you didn’t even try to make contact with me?”

“I knew you wouldn’t want to get involved.”

I felt my expression morph into that of anger. “You’re my dad! And you’re always moving around, so it’s not like I'm ever going to see you unless you’re passing through.”

My father’s face crumpled into a face of sorrow and irritation. His eyebrows scrunched into an expression of anger. “That wouldn’t even be a problem if you had never left the life.”

I scoff, my eyes stinging with tears. I managed to put a smile on my face. “And here I thought you supported me. Guess I was wrong.” I grab my coat and hat and leave the bar. I put my hat on my head and stepped outside, but then stopped when I realized that someone drove me here.

I put on my jacket, and the door opened behind me. “I don’t want to talk to you, dad.” but a different voice answered me. “Good thing I'm not your dad. You sound like a spitfire when you’re angry.”

I turn around and look at Dean. I study his face for any changes, but it’s mostly the same. Still the same freckles. Still the same stubble, the same eyes. God, I adore those eyes. I could never get tired of those eyes.

I study his expression yet again. He’s hurt, confused, but there’s still some affection there. “I’m so sorry.” he blinks. More confusion.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I could have told you.”

He steps closer to me, his expression going soft. “Baby, we didn’t know. It’s ok.”

I laugh.

“What?”

“I didn’t know we were using pet names this early in our relationship.”

His expression brightens considerably. “There’s a relationship?”

My face begins to copy his grin. “There could be, but I'm gonna need your name first.”

He sticks out his hand for a shake. “Dean. Winchester.”

I shake his hand and gently pull him close to me. He smiles and rests his forehead against mine. I look into those green eyes and breathe in his scent. He smells like gun smoke and leather. The love in his eyes is so pure and so intense.

“Hey. what do you say we get out of here?”

I let out a girlish giggle and take his hand. We ran back to his car and got inside.

He turns the heaters on, putting our hands in front of it. We smile at each other for a soft and warm moment.

I gently take his head into my hands. Looking at him now, those green eyes are all I see. I could see the most beautiful forests in the world, but they wouldn’t be Dean's eyes. I lean away from him and take off my hat, gently placing it on his head.

His laughs, tilting the hat. I look deeper into his eyes. His face sobers up, looking deeply into mine. He gently slides the hat off. His hands find their way to my waist. He pulls me onto his lap.

“What are we going to do about the vamps?”

My hands are on the back of his neck. “I think that’s a problem for the future Dean.”

A goofy grin slips onto my face. “What about right now Dean?”

He smiles, and the dying sunlight hits his eyes in that way that makes them glow.

He leans forward, with a smile. “I’m sure he can think of a few ideas.”

I lean with him. I place a hand on his cheek. I feel the smile drop from my face. I look into his green, green eyes for what feels like an eternity.

Our breaths begin to blend into each other, becoming another beautiful product of us. His eyes became half lidded, his expression going soft. I rest my forehead against his, closing my eyes.

“Hey.”

I open my eyes. “Yeah?”

“Are you sure you want to be a part of my life? I’m not gonna lie to you, there’s always crap going on.”

My grip on his face becomes firmer. “I want this. All of this. I want your crap, your bad days. I want your sadness and your joy too. I want to share your life with mine. I want to be a part of your life. I want you.”

“And I want all of yours.” He holds out his pinky. “I know it seems like a cliche, but…promise?”

“I can think of a better idea.”

I pull him into me, our lips crashing together.

I feel the rest of the world fall away, and all that’s left is him and I.

#dean winchester x male reader #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #male reader #cowboy reader #dean winchester

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glittergelpensblog · 9 months

Text

In the Dark (I)

Eventual Azriel x Reader Witch!Reader Word Count: 3,009 words Summary: You were a witch made into High Fae by your family, kidnapped by the King of Hybern. After he attempts to use your power, you are saved by the Night Court Warnings: Kidnapping, murder, canon violence, graphic descriptions of death, torture, fire, scars, please let me know if I forgot anything! Note: Thank you so much for all of the love on this story! This is a lot of world building and seeing where the reader came from, but I have big big plans for this story, and have never been so excited to flesh a work out! Thank you again :)

Prologue

Chapter One

You sat in silence, swishing your fingers in the giant tub in what Rhysand called the Townhouse.

The water was now cold, and tinged dark from all the dirt you had accumulated over the months in that cell. It took almost an hour to scrub off the caked dirt and blood that seemed to tattoo onto your body, and your skin was now red and felt raw.

You couldn’t avoid speaking to the others for much longer.

You arrived at the Townhouse, after Mor dropped off the two Fae ladies she had grabbed, Nesta and Elain, at another home in a mountain. She gave you a brief explanation of who she was, and what had happened at Hybern, before she winnowed you to the Townhouse to meet the others.

As soon as you arrived they all began bickering, and two wraiths, Nuala and Cerridwen, gently guided you upstairs, taking you to a room more extravagant than you had ever seen in your witch village. Nuala set a plate of food on the small desk in the corner before gesturing to the bathing room, then she walked through the wall and disappeared.

The way you ate the dinner was embarrassing, the first real meal you had eaten in months. You devoured it so fast that you had thrown it up into the toilet. Your body wasn’t used to real sustenance after being fed stale slices of bread and water laced with fae bane for months. After you were done being sick, you found a note on the desk, telling you to come downstairs after you bathed and changed.

You sighed, stepping out of the cold water and drying yourself. You made your way to the bed where you found an outfit laid for you on the bed, a knit sweater and a simple pair of jeans. You quickly dressed, and stepped into the hallway, unsure of which way to go before Cerridwen appeared, and guided you downstairs into the main living area.

The bickering court was now silent as you entered the living room, and before you sat three of the people from Hybern. Rhysand, the High Lord sat next to Mor on the couch, and to her left was the man who had an arrow in his chest earlier, who you hadn’t had the chance to meet before he was whisked away by healers, along with the male with shredded wings. The latter was absent, his injury too serious to be out of bed by now. In the armchair next to the sofa was a woman who appeared to be High Fae, but you knew wasn’t. You could sense her power from where you stood at the entryway, and her eyes gleamed pure silver, like mist moving behind glass.

All of their eyes were on you as you stepped foot into the room.

“Y/N, come sit,” Rhysand spoke gently, gesturing to the plush sofa across from him and the others. You did as asked, sinking into the cushions before a plate of tea and pastries appeared on the table between the couches. Your stomach grumbled, but you ignored the pastries, pouring yourself a cup of tea in fear of the sickness that hailed your body from when you ate earlier.

“This is Azriel,” He gestured to the winged man to the right, “And Amren.” He leaned his head towards where the silver-eyed woman sat.

You quietly spooned honey into the cup, stirring it as you sat back into the couch before meeting everyone's expectant eyes. “What do you want to know?”. You internally cringed at how weak you sounded, your voice shredded and raw from all of the screaming earlier.

“Tell us what you can bear.” Mor spoke softly, her warm brown eyes meeting yours, filled with such compassion you almost teared up, the most emotion you had seen in months.

“I don’t even know where to start.” Your voice cracked, and heat filled your cheeks. Embarrassment washed over you. You are not weak. You told yourself. You are not afraid.

“The king said you were a Witch,” Rhysand prompted, “How is that possible?”

You swallowed, pushing down the lump in your throat, “Witches were never extinct,” You told the High Lord, “Yes, we were mostly gone after the war, our population was decimated. But we still exist.”

“How did no one know?”

“We kept hidden,” You took a sip of your tea. “After the war, our ancestors migrated to an island off the coast of the mortal lands. We hid the island with magic, similar to a glamour. We– they wanted to stay hidden, and were tired of getting caught between human and Fae conflict.”

Fae, witch, the words felt lost in your throat. What even were you anymore?

“Then how did Hybern find you?” The one with wings asked. Your eyes snapped to him, and his hazel ones flickered in the reflection of the roaring fire to the left. Shadows swirled and danced behind him, blending in with the web of light and dark emanating from the flames.

“I still don’t know, to this day.” You paused. “He would taunt me about how easy we were to find, but never how he did so. He invaded in the middle of the Night. He took me in my sleep, and made me watch as he killed my sister. Then he burned down my village, he made me watch that as well before I was knocked out. When I woke up, I was in the dungeons.” Blood roared in your ears at the memory, full of anger, your sister's mutilated body on the kitchen table, the screams of your village as they realized they were trapped inside the flames. You felt your power gurgling in your chest, and you shoved it down deep inside, trapping it behind the iron doors you imagined sat under your heart.

Not here, not now.

They tensed at the pulse of power in the room, before Amren spoke, changing the subject, “The king said you were made into Fae, but not by the High Lords, nor the Cauldron. He said you were made by magic, girl. I’ve never heard of magic that can do that.”

You froze, images flashing in your mind from that night, that terrible, horrible night. You felt nauseous, but you swallowed down the bile rising in your throat, and held your chin high.

“A few years ago, my mother died of a strange illness, one we did not know how to treat with magic. While she was sick, my father searched for answers, and even went to the continent to try to find them. He went mad searching, trying to find any sort of magic that could heal her. But there was nothing he could do to save her.

“After her death, he spiraled. While searching for a cure, he stumbled upon dark, ancient magic. Magic we didn’t know existed. After she died, he kept studying it, and began practicing it. My sister and I didn’t even realize that it was consuming him until it was too late, until we couldn’t pull him back. I tried to help, but she was scared that I would get hurt. She tried everything to stop him, but she couldn’t. He had become a different person, and was no longer the male that raised us. We could barely recognize him.

“He would practice the spells in the woods behind our home, always attempting to master his newfound magic. It was dark, and evil, and my sister didn’t know what to do, how to stop it.”

You paused and took a sip of tea before you spoke the next part, before you told the court, complete and utter strangers, of the night that haunted your nightmares, of the night when you became an outcast from your village.

Your screams from the night that still echoed in your mind.

You can do this. You are not afraid.

“He found a spell that would turn the dead into Fae, and he wanted to use it on my mother, to try to bring her back. I don’t believe it would have worked on her, she had been dead for almost a year when he found it. But he had gone mad at that point, and nothing could stop him from trying to use it. But, he wanted to make sure he mastered it first, before trying it on her. So he decided to test it on me.”

Mor gasped, her slender hand reaching to cover her mouth. Azriel and Amren stiffened, and Rhysand stared at you, eyes wide with horror. “He killed you?”

You let a deep sigh fall from your lips. “Yes, he killed me. He knocked me out while I was sleeping, and took me to the woods. When I woke up, he was explaining the spell to me. There was nothing I could do. He paralyzed me by magic, and I was too weak at the time to undo it.”

You took in a harsh breath before you continued the story. “The spell required for the body to be drained of all blood, so it could be filled with blood of the Fae. I don’t know where he got the Fae blood from, there were none living on the island.

“So he killed me– he killed me by draining the blood from my body. He cut me from my jaw all the way down to the end of my wrist, and let me bleed out.” You pulled the neck of your sweater to show how the scar continued down your shoulder, the puckered skin disappearing under the knit fabric.. A constant reminder of your slow, painful, death, and the look in your father’s eyes as he watched. “I begged him to stop, I tried to fight. But there was nothing I could do but watch him kill me. I was too weak to fight back, my magic wasn’t strong enough yet.”

Tears streamed down Mor’s face at the story, and you blinked back yours.

“I don’t know how he did it, but he replaced my blood with that of the Fae. When I awoke– or came back to life, I was so angry, so, so angry. That he killed me, that he chose to use me as an experiment… I was blinded with rage. But he did the spell incorrectly. Along with life, he breathed the magic into me– magic I didn’t know how to control. He could feel it, and as soon as he saw me…” You took a pause, attempting calm, deep breaths.

“He knew what he had done, and tried to run away from me. But I was out of control, with new power I didn’t know how to get a hold of. Before I knew it, before I even knew what was happening, I killed him.”

The group paled, and you sat in silence as they absorbed your words, your story.

Your curse.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You sat at the luxurious dining table at the townhouse, slowly spooning porridge into your mouth in between sips of tea. You longingly eyed the coffee that sat in a metal carafe at the center of the table, the tendrils of steam dancing in the morning sun so temptingly. You were tired, and had yet another sleepless night. Coffee would keep you awake, keep you alert, keep you from falling into another nightmare-filled sleep.

You gave into the temptation, reaching for the carafe before a wave of nausea rolled over you, and you dropped your hand to the table, pushing away your bowl of porridge.

You had been at the townhouse for two days, and could still barely keep a meal down.

Amren chuckled from the seat across from you, and flicked the page of her book with her mind. “You’re going to need to eat if you wish to fight.”

“I’m trying.” You retorted, gulping down the rest of your tea.

The night after you explained everything to the inner circle, Rhysand offered for you to stay at the Library underneath the House of Wind, where dozens of Priestesses lived after being displaced from their homes, similar to you. It was a safe space, a refuge from the world as they healed from the traumas they endured.

You immediately turned down his invitation.

“I’ve spent ten months locked in a cell, tortured by Hybern’s soldiers with orders to break me. I am not going to give them what they want. I am not going to run and hide.” You spoke, meeting Rhysands violet eyes before looking at the rest of the Inner Circle. He and Mor nodded at your words.

To their left, Cassian, whom you had just met that morning, smirked. “I certainly don’t expect you to. You put up one hell of a fight in that throne room.” Azriel nodded next to him, his shadows that were before lazily curling around his form now tucked tight against his body.

You tensed at the sentence, “I wasn’t going to let him whore out my magic.”

You wouldn’t allow him the victory of breaking you.

After that, Amren had offered training, a way to harness and hone in your power, to control it. She was also made, and although her powers were different from yours, her training was helping, or it felt like it did.

You needed it to.

Because if it didn’t, if you couldn’t gain control of yourself… then maybe Hybern had succeeded.

Maybe you were broken.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“You’re not focusing.” Amren’s sharp voice cut through the silence.

It was a simple task, something that you had done many times before you were turned. All you had to do was set a simple piece of paper on fire.

But what once easily came to you now felt impossible to grasp.

“I am focusing!” You snapped, and the paper fluttered to the floor from where it was hovering in the air. Gods, you couldn’t even keep the paper afloat.

“No you are not.” Annoyance laced her voice, and you could tell she was getting fed up. And so were you.

You had never felt so weak.

Amren sighed, and your cheeks flushed as her eyes filled with what seemed to be pity.

You didn’t need any more pity, you felt it at dinner every night with the Inner Circle. You weren’t sure if you could take anymore of it, the pitiful looks from Mor, the softened gaze of Rhysand, and sometimes even Cassian.

Amren and Azriel were the only two who hadn’t looked at you like a wounded animal. You couldn’t lose that.

“Try it again.”

You closed your eyes, using your magic to make the paper float. You breathed, and searched, for minutes that felt like hours, until you found the power, deep inside you, and brushed against it, awakening a tendril of the dark magic.

You opened your eyes, keeping them locked onto the paper, and willed it to burn.

The curtains to your right erupted in flames.

A shout from the doorway gave away the secret audience of Cassian in the entrance, and he quickly grabbed the carafe of water on the table, dousing the fire that was filling the room with smoke.

Anger and embarrassment took over your body as your face turned red. Had he been watching this whole time? As you failed the most menial of tasks? The flames erupted again at the thought, bigger and brighter than before.

This was so humiliating.

Amren quickly extinguished the flames with her magic before turning to you. “Well, you set fire to something, girl.”

You let out a shaky breath, and your shoulders slumped in defeat. “What’s the point? What is the point of having all of this power, if I can’t even control it?”

“It comes with time, girl.” Amren said softly.

“You need to wield your power like a weapon,” Cassian said, his eyes meeting yours. “Picture a sword, how you would strike it. Where you’d point it. Focus all of that energy into it, then release.”

You blinked at his advice, eyes wandering to the siphons atop his hands, the ones that he told you helped control his power. He too, had once not been able to control his magic, and he also had to learn to hone it. You nodded slowly at him, and used your mind to raise the sheet of paper on the floor.

You closed your eyes as you slowed your breath, picturing the sword in your mind, pointing towards the paper in front of you. You gathered the magic, honing it to flame, the flame that had once burned your village down, the ones you hadn’t been able to stop. You focused that flame, breathing it into the sword, the anger burning through it.

Then, you released it.

Smoke filled your nostrils and you opened your eyes, to see the flames licking the edges of the paper, the corners turning into ash. Tears welled into your eyes, and you pushed them down.

But you didn’t push down the smile that now graced your lips.

“Thank you Cassian.” You whispered, and let go of the flame.

“Why don’t you come to training with me and Az?”

You quirked an eyebrow at Cassian’s offer. “Training, like, learning how to fight?”

“Training your body, gaining control over it, it helps with controlling your power, easing your mind.” Cassian said. “It also doesn’t hurt to know how to defend yourself.”

Defend yourself, as you hadn’t been able to months ago. Defend yourself, if your magic couldn’t.

You looked to Amren, who nodded her head in approval. “I’ll try it.”

“We meet at sunrise every morning at the House of Wind, you’ll find me and Azriel at breakfast to take you there. I’ll have Rhys get you some leathers.”

“Okay,” You nodded your head, and he smiled before bidding goodbye.

You looked at the ashes on the ground, the burning piece of paper that lay before you. It quickly disappeared, and was replaced with a pristine, unburnt sheet.

“Again.” Amren ordered.

You closed your eyes, and pictured the sword.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

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