#you are safe in the shadows - but not for long
Text
Minors DNI.
Alastor x FReader.
Warnings 18+, angst, P in V sex, tentacles, biting, blood, dominance (Alastor), submission (Reader), ropes, bondage, punishment, spanking, breath play, sensory play, sensory deprivation, hard sex, multiple orgasms, sensory overload, overstimulation, crying, friction burn from ropes. (Small amount of breeding kink if you squint) (Use of a noose, but not in the way you think, Alastor's basically a sassy bitch).
(+ aftercare for 'reader').
Word Count: 9216.
Forever Bound.
The agonised screams as acid rain hits the sizzling flesh of the sinners caught in the raging storm outside, the pleasant burn of full-bodied rye as it slides smoothly down his throat, the smell of acrid tobacco drifting across the bar from Husk’s filthy habit, and the sight of Angel Dust once again trying to tease and sexually harass the aforementioned bartender.
All of these things were a vague awareness for Alastor as he idly drums his claws on the split woodgrain of the conjured drinking booth he sat at for privacy, eyeing you from across the room with as much subtlety as a bull in a China shop.
You piqued his interest, always so avoidant of him, except for when there was no escape, then you were utterly caustic with him. Alastor found this to be unusual behaviour, you were so affable with the others... skittish, but affable... so why did he always seem to rub you the wrong way, granted he was a powerful overlord, but he’d seen you speak with Rosie just fine.
Cute, was one word he’d often thought of when he enjoyed riling you up, your fuzz getting even fuzzier, especially your tail, oh he so adored teasing you, your look of utter fury despite being so very small, and your tail, oh your tail... his own tail was easily hidden away, secreted from the others, but your tail was much too magnificent for that, long, flat, wide, with a delightful curl at the end, and a divine reddish colour.
It was rather striking, Alastor smiled to himself as he contemplated and schemed about how best to invade your personal space today, purely to enjoy the sight of your tail frizzing up and eyes dart about while you tried to find an exit, he wondered if you would try to literally climb to get away from him this time, just like the other day when you'd scrambled up the banister of the main staircase, oh that had been most entertaining.
As he stewed in his scheming he listened to your laughter as Vaggie explained how she and Charlie had gone to the store yesterday only to meet a sinner who had fallen face first into the bag of rice they had been toting once they saw the Princess of Hell doing a regular grocery shop, Vaggie had been beside herself in tears of laughter while the ‘kind’ Charlie had helped the ‘poor’ sinner out, she had even bought his groceries for him.
Alastor swirled his rye a bit before knocking back the rest of the drink with a satisfied crackle of static, glass thudding back down on the table, his eyes still affixed to you and the way your cherub like cheeks looked adorable when you smiled... that sight alone was what forced him to act, his own smile curling higher, perhaps it was a little too much rye that forced his hand, but he wouldn’t regret his next actions if it got him what he needed from you.
Your attention soul.
Drawing on the wispy feeling of his umbrakinesis he traverses through the shadows to the unoccupied space behind you, reforming silently before bending forward so his chin hovers over your shoulder, getting as close as possible without actually touching you, mouth by your ear, your tail almost touching his pinstripe coat.
“What a delightful afternoon we’re having wouldn’t you agree Dear?” Watching in utter delight as you react to his startling presence.
Jumping in fright and almost colliding with his chin you yelp in shock; you had spied Alastor earlier but had been confident he was too busy with his jazz and rye to bother you this afternoon and had deemed it safe to stand around socialising.
You wince as you taste the sharp metallic tang of blood from biting your tongue, “I’ll be going out Vaggie,” you say nonchalantly, whilst endeavouring to ignore the demon who seems to always send a prickly electrical current through your entire nervous system whenever he comes into close proximity with you.
“Now Dear, I don’t think you would enjoy a stroll out in the acid rain right now. Perhaps, if you’d like an outdoors experience you would be thrilled to accompany my good self for a stroll, as you may be aware I do have a rather authentic bayou in my private quarters, the perfect indoor, outdoors escapade, with none of the risk of treacherous pesky weather patterns.” Alastor gestures in the direction of the lobby staircase, trying for an endearing smile.
You start to shake your head, mouth opening to politely refuse the offer, your heart racing as your nervous nature screams at you, ‘DANGER’.
However, before you have the chance to decline, Charlie’s jubilant voice interrupts.
“What a wonderful idea Alastor, this is sooo awesome, oh my goodness, well done for reaching out and making an effort to be involved, I know you’ve both had your differences, and this is perfect! I think it would be excellent for the both of you to get to know one and other, oh well done Alastor, I know you don’t usually like getting involved in our redemption activities, I’m so proud of you.”
Charlie then looks at you, with those big hopeful eyes, as Alastor's grin tightens, but he doesn’t argue with Charlie, his own intentions being far less than innocent, but he refuses to let anyone know the inner workings of his mind.
Alastor almost laughs as he hears a loud scream from the city below, one more sinner clearly having reached their demise in the biting rain.
You almost recoil, your whole-body vibrating, screaming at you to escape... Your instincts get ignored inevitably, the distinct scent of Alastor drifting over you, the rye on his breath, his woodsmoke, iron and musky smell fragrant and intoxicating.
You stay rooted to the spot, Charlie is technically in charge of the rehabilitation process, so if you refuse her ‘exercises’, you might get kicked out... If not by her, then the facility manager (Alastor) (who is waiting with a shark like grin for your answer) might take it upon himself to eject you... Right out into the acid pouring outside, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, as you see no alternative solutions.
With a pained smile you make eye contact with Alastor, your stomach swooping, your heart palpitating.
“That would be lovely, thank you for the offer,” you say through gritted teeth acquiescing to the veiled demand.
You are very tempted to sprint out into the acid rain yourself instead of being alone with the Radio Demon... being the subject of his undivided attention.
“Oh Darling, of course, think nothing of it, allow me to escort you.” Alastor holds his arm out like a gentleman, a shiver of fear prickles up your spine in response.
To Charlie’s utter exhilaration, Alastor takes your hand and threads your arm through his and marches you off towards the stairwell, your legs feel like jelly, but his stride is even, so you scramble to keep up.
You take one last desperate beseeching look at Vaggie over your shoulder, and she gives you a sympathetic shrug as Charlie practically buzzes in excitement at her side.
Alastor natters for the whole trip to the upper floors, leading you to your doom his bedroom, as you numbly look at anything but him.
Paying attention to the abundance of the apple decor around the hotel, anxiety spiking at an all-time high, not listening to a word he says as your mind races with potential escape plans, (your tail frizzing up from his static energy), which he notices delightedly.
You don’t notice the crackle of his radio tone cutting out briefly after he says your name for the fifth time as he tries to garner your attention, this time he says it accompanied by a tap on your nose, which makes you blink rapidly, flinching as your eyes and mind come back into focus.
His sharp grin screams peril and you react defensively, “What?” You ask rudely, annoyed at your lack of recourse.
“Oh, Dearest you are hilarious,” he mocks without bothering to repeat himself, annoying you even more.
If it was so important to disturb your clearly distant thoughts, surely it should be important enough to enlighten you once your attention was actually directed at him.
You give him an impatient, unimpressed look, and he snickers again.
“We’ve arrived of course, silly Doe.”
You shake your head to clear it again, acutely aware that he had called you a ‘doe’, apt really considering you’re part squirrel, but you felt funny with the way he had uttered it.
The sound full of implications, you’re also very aware he’s a buck, which seemed to be the whole reason he brought up your animalistic status.
Choosing to ignore the bait and not wanting to risk his wrath currently, in such an isolated situation, you nod at him.
He ushers you inside, still feeling rather dazed you take in the peculiar sight of his room, he hadn't been lying, the room certainly appeared how described previously, half bedroom, with sparse furniture, the other half of the room an extensive bayou.
Your stomach dropped; it would be very easy to hide your body in there. You idly wonder how many bodies he had hidden away in here, and just how vast it might be... Is it some sort of pocket dimension...?
He looks down at you observing every minute detail of your reaction, wanting to reach out and touch your fluffy tail, instead his fingers snap several times in front of your face, disturbing you from wandering thoughts yet again.
The warmth of this area of the room feeling even warmer in the intimacy of being alone in his bedroom with such a beautiful little doe, one that occupies his thoughts persistently... confusingly.
“My Dear, are you quite alright.” Alastor makes a show of checking your temperature with the back of his hand, his craving to touch you overriding all other senses and you jump away from him yet again.
Alastor felt annoyed at your reaction, but he didn’t let it show.
You nod, as he laughs at you, “I’m fine,” you don’t back down, wanting to get this over with as fast and painlessly as possible.
So, despite your protesting body, you seize his arm and start trying to haul him off into the treeline.
It did smell rather fresh and aromatic in here, it was quite pleasant, not that you’d admit it to him.
Alastor hums amused but elated, deliberately setting a slow pace, that you cannot (try as you might) make him a shred swifter, your efforts having no effect on the much stronger overlord, to your dismay.
You exhale heavily and disengage from his arm, not allowing you freedom however, he quickly takes a hold of your hand, looping it back into the cook of his elbow again, as he continues escorting you, every step deliberate and exaggerated, making you feel outraged.
Without a word you amble together painstakingly, concentrating on anything other than the strong arm beneath your palm, the feeling of the squishy moss beneath your shoes, the rustle of a breeze (you can’t tell whether or not is artificial) in the trees and through your hair, the green and brown encircling you both on all sides, darkening as you both traverse deeper and deeper within, isolating you with him, you try valiantly to ignore the heat radiating from his body, or how pleasant awful it feels, the air thickens, your breathing growing laboured with tension.
You shiver, you hadn’t dressed for outdoor weather so were getting fairly chilly.
As you continue the odd journey undisturbed, you begin to think it felt rather nice, despite the company and the silence stretching on, and even with the warning bells ringing in your head, you start to relax infinitesimally as he appeared content to leave you undisturbed... famous last words.
“I think it would be wearisome if we keep proceeding silently my Dear, and I’ve been utterly intrigued by you for a while,” he supresses his mirth as he observes your tail frizz back up.
Static skating up your skin at the sound of his voice your body erupts in goosebumps, you try to convince yourself are unpleasant, but you can’t deny that this time it doesn’t feel so terrible, it seems after long exposure to him in the bayou, your body’s response didn’t feel like a warning, you can’t deny it, especially as it seems to evoke heat within, to your detriment you had to mentally stop yourself leaning into him to seek out more warmth.
You decide to humour him, if only to keep him talking, wanting more of the sensations.
“What has you intrigued about me... I mean I’m just a lowly sinner after all, wh-...”
“Why your aversion to me of course,” ever the diplomat, “for a while now I’ve noticed you avoiding me Little Doe, and I can’t help feeling slightly wounded by your actions, why do you treat everyone else so much more preferably? I feel perhaps that you don’t like me, not one little bit,” Alastor clutches his heart for dramatic effect.
“Well... I ermm... I just know all about you? Everyone has told me how dangerous you are, and I’d just rather keep my distance and not risk...”
“Don’t try to fool me with half-truth's Darling, there’s more you aren’t sharing, I can ascertain that for myself, or you wouldn’t flee the very sight of me when you know with certainty, I wouldn’t hurt a resident of our dear Charlie’s fine establishment... I would be a poor host indeed if I started killing off the wayward souls seeking redemption, not to mention how terribly bored I’d get when those seeking pointless help stopped turning up.” Alastor’s voice lowered dangerously the static increasing in his tone.
He hates being lied to, especially by you, certainly in this moment, when he finally has you to himself, unable to spurn his company.
Alastor has found you running through his mind more and more lately, his days revolving around your routines, he tried to compromise with his unusual feelings, trying to interact with you as much as possible, yet your constant rejection persistently pains him, and now... Now he’s finally confronting you about it and you have the gall to try deceiving him with falsehood, when he can smell exactly what his presence is doing to you.
Alastor is very aware now as to how your body responds to him, his nostrils flare, the aroma he scents from you right now isn’t fear, fear is bitter, this is sweet, cloying, intoxicating, his eyes flicker to radio dials as he must take a firm hold of his self-control.
Your adrenaline spikes, and you start tugging, but you can’t get your hand free, “Alastor... I...”
“Another of your lies and you won’t appreciate the consequences Little Doe, so think before you speak, as I won’t allow another lie to go unpunished... and I want to assure you, I’ll know if you do.” Alastor uses his height to intimidate, towering over you menacingly.
Your heart pounds in your chest, your body shaking, his warmth and musk overpowering your faculties, you violently shake your head, at an utter loss for words.
Alastor chuckles at the visual, still keeping a firm deterring grip on your hand, he wouldn’t be surpised if he let go, if you proceeded by scrambling up a tree.
“You know what I think Little Doe? I think that you crave me,” Alstor’s heated body pressing closer to yours, “and you’re too terrified of your own feelings to even realise that’s precisely what you desire.”
You whimper quietly but his ignores you and presses on, his presence making you spiral, especially when he reaches to brush a strand of your hair from your face, causing all attempts to get away from him to halt as you freeze.
“Your body is responding to mine so deliciously, can’t you feel it? Every time you try escaping those feelings, you’re in denial, but I know better,” he leans down right beside your ear, a shiver running up your spine.
“I... can... smell... you,” he whispers his voice sending tingles all over you, your skin erupting in goosebumps yet again, eyes flying wide as he finishes enunciating teasingly.
You shake your head in denial, eyes wide in panic, your legs threatening to give way, and you try to fruitlessly tug at your trapped arm again, he growls deeply in warning about lying.
However, being completely overwhelmed you ignore the admonition, you can’t flee, you don’t freeze this time... so you fight... verbally.
“I’d rather be hanged again than crave anything you have to offer,” you snap, your free hand suddenly flying to your mouth in horror, you know you’ve really done it now.
His predatory smile widens, and several shadow tentacles burst menacingly from the ground, he releases his grip on you as all your limbs are restrained tightly in their grasp, one winding around your waist for support, you're hoisted into the air with ease and a fearful squeak, until you’re eye level with him, a good two feet off the ground.
“I warned you Little Doe,” Alastor growls, his claw gently tracing down your cheek leaving a tingling in its wake.
Prowling around you with growls still escaping him, once Alastor gets behind you, he tugs on your tail, your body trembling, you begin, hyperventilating, he simply flattens it out like a rug, and he shakes it like one too, several times until he makes a small satisfied hum of static, making you growl back at him.
“I’ve wanted to do that for some time now,” Alastor chuckles, calming slightly at your response, enjoying antagonising you, feeling at ease now, his tone completely lightening again at your helplessness, feeling every facet of your fear and desire from your scent alone.
“Now, about you, and your proclivity to lie to all powerful beings... well we’ve certainly got to correct that pesky behaviour for a start, I did warn you Dear that there would be punishment.”
He steps closer to you, circling back around to your front brushing against your tail and the fabric of your clothes as he goes, at least now granting you a visual on his location, you had been nearly panicking with him being behind you whilst you’re defenceless, your breathing calms slightly as he comes back into view.
You watch as his ears twitch, your cheeks flush at the cute visual, as he contemplates his next move, his grin looks paticularly malevolant as he slowly pulls off his jacket, rearranging the tentacles, he slips it over you, threading your arms through the long sleeves and shortening them with his magic so the tentacles can wind back around your wrists... You’re bound again, admittidly much warmer, but now engulfed in his heady scent, and it instantly drives you crazy.
You can’t believe how good that smell is to your senses, you feel a flood of heat in your tummy and underwear, you try to clear your head, but your nose just wants to bury itself into the warm heaven wafting upwards.
Alastor smirks when your cheeks flush even darker, knowing full well what’s happening as his body had been releasing pheramones for a while now in reaction to your arousal.
You feel lightheaded as he stops inches from your face, “Ready to admit it?”
You shake your head again, but don’t even notice how you didn’t protest to the fact that there is something to admit.
He dramatically sighs but looks utterly gleeful, he clicks his fingers and more tentacles spawn, ascending your legs, making you whimper and squirm, they ghost up your thighs, teasing the edge of your panties under your skirt, but withdraw at the last moment, skirting back down your legs maddeningly, stroking all the exposed sensitive flesh they can find.
Your temperature seems to raise even higher as now touch comes into play, and so as a twist he decides to deprive you of a sense this time, taking off his bowtie he gets a tentacle to hold your head still, and binds the tie over your eyes, and everything goes dark.
He takes a moment to admire the sight of you all wrapped up just for him, vulnerable, and whimpering, he would think you’d panic at what he just did, but it only seemed to turn you on more as his sensitive nose picks up a fresh wave of sweet floral heat from you.
He continues his control, gliding the tentacles he commands silently all over you, as you try to take utterly pointlessly shallow breaths trying to not breathe in his scent as you dangle in mid-air, the scent heady and making you feel drunk, but with every gasp and whine you inhale more and more.
His tentacles driving you insane as you are unable to anticipate where any of them are coming from or going next, the blindfold making you jumpy, your knickers are drowned at this point, yet the refusal of the tentacles to touch anywhere you actually need them to has you utterly quivering and unable to hold in your rising sounds of need and protest.
Alastor leans his cane against a tree, feeling utterly buoyant as he hums a tune, marking another sense off his internal list, making sure you will break completely and perfectly for him, the power making his cock twitch in interest.
Only one left he thinks gleefully, so he uses his powers to keep the tentacles going, as his microphone begins to play one of his favourite jazz tunes so you won’t hear him approaching, this final sense he’ll have to do himself, but because of everything else so far, he knows just from your delightful sounds, this is what will tip you over the edge.
He has noted you haven’t once said no, or asked him to stop, but he does keep in mind that if you utter those words, he will respect them, a bastard he may be, but he’s not that sort of demon, in fact he notices you haven’t said anything since he took control, he tries to determine if it’s fear of him, or fear of your own feelings, too scared to ask for more, too cowardly to admit you like it.
Adjusting himself with his hand, he moves so he can feel your body heat radiating off you, getting close enough he has to hold his breath, he raises a finger and traces its tip across your lips, dragging it along the seam and your whole body shudders, you moan to his utter delight, he withdraws his finger as your tongue comes out trying to catch it, all the confirmation he needs, and while you groan in displeased agony he crashes his lips onto yours.
His tongue plundering and dancing with yours as you sigh in bliss, finally getting some real contact, the taste of him so deliciously enticing you don’t even think twice about reciprocating, your tongue eagerly venturing out to meet his.
Every touch, every lap of his tongue against yours is a shock to your system in the darkness of the makeshift blindfold, his hands maddeningly never once straying to your body as the tickling and stroking of the tentacles increases, sending shivers all over your body, his scent still a vast ocean around you, the sound of jazz not nearly loud enough to ground you, when you moan into his mouth you feel him smirk as he withdraws yet again and you nearly cry out for him, your legs trembling against the appendages wrapped around them as even more slide up your back as you desperately try to lean forward seeking him out blindly.
He chuckles, sensing victory is near, you yelp as you feel your tail tugged on again, already overly sensitive from the teasing and heightened sensations of being plunged into darkness, your skin burning with static from the energy he exudes, you felt like a live wire about to spark. You can feel the fluids literally running down your leg, the barrier of your knickers doing nothing anymore.
His alluring voice sounds in your right ear once more, “Ready to confess Pet?”
You whimper, your senses on high alert, you turn you head toward where you can hear him, another stronger waft of his scent has you weak, wanting fulfillment, your pussy swollen, dripping and aching, you moan again, your brain not functioning at full capacity as you don’t comprehend what he’s talking about.
You shiver again the tentacles never ceasing their torment, he laughs as he watches you pout trying to lean toward him for more stimulation.
“Soon Little Doe,” Alastor promises, “First you must admit why you’ve been running away from me and being a mean Little Pet to me for months now.” He boops your nose startling you, making him laugh once more.
“Tell me Dear One, what do I do to you that makes you literally climb banisters to flee my presence.”
You whimper for another moment you pussy spasming, clenching around thin air desperately, you’d given up trying to avoid his smell and embraced drinking it in greedily now, if he could see your eyes, he would barely be able to see the coloured rings of them.
“Y-you,” you take yet another deep breath, your whole body vibrating like a tuning fork as you try to writhe and buck agaisnt the tentacles to no avail. “You, make me wet, fuuuck... Alastor, please... I’ve been avoiding you... because everything about you sets off every instinct inside me... and, and, and... it scares me... but fuck it makes me horny so badly...”
“Oh really? And what pray tell do you do when I make you horny, other than flee?” He grins, using his breath to send goosebumps all over your neck as he tickles your ear with it, blowing gently.
“Please... Al...” You cry out more impatient than ever before, “stop teasing, I beg of you...”
“Ha, no.” Alastor laughs at you, and you nearly cry at the torment, your whole body getting no reprieve from the writhing mass stimulating you.
Gasping as one lingers for longer near your mound this time, you hasten to answer hoping for relief, “I run to my room, and I fuck myself on my fingers until I cry your name... Please Al, oh fuck please!” Tears sliding down your face.
The world seems to shift around you, you feel almost car sick, the blindfold is ripped from your face, you blink rapidly against the now blinding brightness, he’s petting your hair soothingly and you realise you’re both back in the more ‘normal’ portion of his bedroom, a wrought iron bed dominating the area, you were sure that wasn’t there when you’d entered.
He cups your face before you can regain anymore sense and kisses you fiercely in reward, granting you a boon for your honesty, you moan eagerly, clutching at his body, not even noticing the tentacles had freed you as you wrap yourself around him pleadingly, almost dry humping him as he snogs you soundly, drawing out your tongue to suck on, making you moan yet again.
“There’s a good Pet... now that you’ve finally admitted it to yourself, we can get down to business... and I’m not through with you yet Little Doe, but first your punishment,”
You groan in protest, but he silences you with a look, his sharp grin predatory, threatening, and despite your desperate need your body and mind react instinctively, deferring to him automatically, accepting your fate a little too willingly for your tastes, but what were you to do?
You lower your head, tilting to the side in submission, he growls in approval.
“You were cruel Little Doe, and I want your penance, or I will make it so you cannot cum for a week.”
You maddened with lust and need by now nearly scream in frustrated fear, shaking your head manically, making him laugh again, his scent making you lean toward him again wanting nothing more than to get lost in him, devour every iota of him and be devoured in return.
“Fine, do it... punish me, please... please don’t leave me like this... I’ll do anything.” You beg him frantically, your body aflame.
“There’s my good Little Doe,” Alastor says light-heartedly, scratching you behind your small, pointed ears.
He snaps his fingers and without further ado you’re plunged back into darkness, you feel suddenly chilly and vulnerable as the cool air hits your skin all at once, you have no moment to react to your sudden exposure as you feel yourself dragged and sprawled on your stomach over a strong pair of warm, furry thighs.
Immediately you realise what’s going to happen and a new flood of unimpeded slick drenches your own thighs to his utter delight, he takes a moment to run a slim digit up the inside of your thigh, gathering the juice making you shiver and press into his hand with a needy whine.
He hums in approval when he tastes you for the first time, the sound of pleasure from him causing another jolt to your core despite being unable to see him, he exaggerates the wet licking sounds for your benefit, watching your reactions keenly.
“Delicious... Now, two strikes for every month of avoidance and pain you’ve caused me, and another five on top for your lies and cruel remarks earlier, so a grand total of fifteen,” he says in a husky growl, you can even hear his smile, it was malicious.
You wait, flinching with every breeze ghosting your backside.
He entertains himself for several moments just watching you tense, writhing and trying to anticipate his actions, so instead he idly runs his fingers up and down your back soothingly, the fur of your tail brushing the back of his hand.
He planned keep it up for a while, except the sight of you so helpless yet willing and pliant has him unable to hold back for much longer, needing to take from you what he wants most so he can figure out why you affect him so strongly, and to stop you from ever being able to leave, watching your pleasure has him harder than he’s ever been in his life, the power over you has him feeling things he’s never felt before, and he’s too far gone to even being unravelling what it signifies.
An almost imperceptible swish and you hiss as the sting on your backside jolted you with slight shock more than pain.
“Count, and thank me each time, or I shall begin again each time.” Instructional, his voice betraying no emotion.
You nod blindly, with a yelp as the next sting burns, your bum flinching away causing your hips to grind against his thigh, and you realise your error, “One, thank you Alastor.”
“Master,” he corrects, wanting you to get accustomed to the idea.
“Master,” you parrot obediently, already a sopping leaking mess, Alastor’s thigh getting wet already.
You tremble in his lap, hyper aware of the hard thick rod pressing into your tummy.
In your distraction another swish and an audible slap, you wince, a groan escaping your throat, “Two, thank you A-Master."
The warning growl to not make the error again has you squirming on him, and the next swift smack comes even harder, your arse begins to throb, heating up from the abuse as you can’t stop your audible reactions either, grunting louder in pain.
SMACK, you cry out in pain as the neck strike hurts, tears start forming again, wetting the blindfold further, you choke out the gratitude, “T-three, thank you Master.”
The next he has mercy from you doing the last so well, the spank being not so hard, but you still feel it smart, “Four, thank you master.”
You moan as you feel him pry your cheeks open, his probing gaze upon your revealed shame, you hear him inhale deeply, all your cheeks burning now, as he sniffs at your arousal, teasing you with just his breath lightly blowing on your tensing desperate holes.
You hear him growl yet again and you moan, arching your back, trying to tempt him, to no success as he swiftly gets right back to managing your punishment.
This goes on smoothly for the next nine spanks, your legs a drenched mess, you’re limp and sobbing on his lap as you shakily count the thirteenth strike, he sooths the burn with gentle rubs on your behind for a few moments, letting you gather yourself together, giving you a chance to not mess this up, to your immense gratitude.
Obviously, it’s a tactic on his end to endear him to you for showing ‘mercy’ but you're too cock desperate to even think that far.
“Almost done pet, you’re doing so well,” he praises admiring the darker colour of your beaten arse with awe. “Just two more then I’ll take good care of you Little Doe.”
Sniffling you nod bracing yourself, tears streaming down your face, yet with every hit the heat in your groin had built to an unbearable amount, not to mention the occasional tease of him stopping to enjoy the view of the flood exiting your hot and ready cunt.
You feel ready to just mount his leg (if you could get the angle right) and rub yourself silly on him, coating him in your essence, wanting to feel his thatch of fur soaked between your thighs, marking him like a bitch in heat.
“You smell, delicious.” His voice sounds gravelly, betraying his desire for the first time.
Catching you completely off guard, his tone and words make you moan louder than before, your hips jolting as your core pulses strongly, your body trying to find any source of friction, his hand keeping your thighs from rubbing together, your pussy trying to milk the air again.
Finally, you realise your eyes had been unimpeded, for you weren’t sure how long, you had just realised the lack of tear saturated cloth when he uses a gentle claw tipped finger to your face toward him so he can watch you, his crimson eyes burning your very soul.
“Such a pretty Little Doe,” Alastor purrs his praise at you, his eyes dark, his antlers large, his smile still screaming doom at you, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when all you want is that grin peering up at you from between your thighs as you ride his face.
The loud clap and burn of the next blow has you crying out even louder the shock and power of it making your eyes close, your head straining to escape his grasp, he absorbs every facet of your reaction with rapture.
“AHHH... fo-fourteen, th-thank you... mmmaster,” you manage to stammer out, weeping from more than once place on your body.
The soft texture of his fur had been rubbing your nipples the whole time until they became hardened peaks, added to the burn of your arse and the insistent throb of your hot wet cunt, you were at the point of overwhelming sensory overload, feeling utterly deranged, in your crazed state you almost miss the final strike.
The pain zinging through your entire being, “Fif-teen, thank y-you, master,” you pant, your arse glowing like hot coals, you realise it’s over, almost feeling disappointed, but all you can focus on is the hard cock you just felt under your abdomen twitch.
He smooths his hand over the raw flesh of your arse soothing the pain, but your pussy was having none of it, throbbing even harder... more painful than your bum at this point. “Please...” You whimper, rubbing against him.
“My what a needy little slut you are Pet... I should have done this months ago.” Alastor’s radio crackle reducing to almost human sounding, made you shiver and moan again, he sounded utterly euphoric and you feel the flood still trailing down your thighs, you're surprised you both aren’t swimming neck deep by now with the copious amount drizzling out of you, forget the storm outside, the real storm he created himself between your legs.
Lifting your limp form gently and using his tentacles to arrange you.
You whine your body not responding to your commands as with ease he lays you on the bed, your sore bum protesting, your tail trapped under you, “Trust me Dear, with the state your beautiful little derrière is in, on the soft bedding it the best place for it right now... but fret not, you’ll soon forget it was ever sore in the first place.”
“Mas-mmm...” you try your body reaching its limit for tolerance.
He chuckles, pleased by the sight of your debauched state of utter glory, spread out before him, barely able to move.
You feel the chafing of rope wrapping around your wrists tightly dragging them together and up over your head, you look up in surprise as you see a noose tying around your wrists, you glace back at him in shock, a devilish smirk on Alastor's face.
“Wouldn’t want to make all your lies valid, and deprive you of a treatment from the gallows you so wished for now would I... after all...” his jubilant voice lowers as he crawls over your body, his clothes brushing against your skin, “apparently a rope is more desirable than my...” leaning close to your ear, licking the shell, “cock,” he enunciates making you moan and buck your hips up against him, groaning in frustration.
“Please Al-... Master...” you whine needily, sweat beading on your forehead from the stress of feeling so hollow, and swollen, your puffy pussy dark with flush, soaked and sensitive.
“Such a pretty, little pet, needy for your master’s cock Little Doe?” He holds back as you whine.
“Prove you want it, prove you need me, make me believe your repentance and I might just show you mercy” he leans closer, his weight baring down on you, pinning your body down, every inch of him pressed against you.
Your nerve endings reacting violently to the proximity as usual, even with him motionless your body feels feral with need, you want to claw at him, make him bury deep inside you so you don’t know where you begin and he ends, you want his cock so badly it hurts, nothing else matters in this moment.
You, however, can’t even react, you don’t know how, with your hands bound, your body pinned, and in this utter state and overwhelm, completely at his mercy, thoroughly senseless from his continued assault on your senses.
“Please... Please... Master...” You whine, keening as you feel the tips of his fingers gliding through your soaked pussy in reward, moaning, your eyes rolling as he finally touches you, the pleasure making you buck your hips to demand he rubs you harder.
“What would you do for me? To have my cock... to make you cum? What would you do...?”
You miss the warning signs, drunk on his scent and touch, all instincts making you arch into him, your hands tugging on the restraints, burning your wrists on the harsh rope.
Alastor’s smile is almost deranged as he awaits your predictable response knowing how much he’s gotten to you, knowing everything he desires is moments from his grasp.
“Anything, please, just anything, please Alastor, I’ll do anything, just take me, take me now...” You thrash about.
“Then give me your soul... or I shall leave you here tied up; I won’t lay another finger on you again if you don’t, I promise, but if you do give me what I want, I’ll make sure you cum so much, you won’t remember your own name.” his fingers rubbing circles on your aching clit as he says this to drive you further into the depths of your depraved state, finally giving you a balm to satiate, tease and further distract.
“Yes, yes, yes, please, just please.” The words barely register as you beg, moaning, tugging at the harsh restraint again, feeling as though you may die again if he leaves you like this now.
One of your hands is magically released and you quickly grasp at his outstretched hand now he's sat up straddling you, your wetness coating his fingers as your hand clings to them, he leads the action himself shaking your hand and there's a burst of green that you pay no mind to, the static that seems to fill your very blood gets ignored too as you try to cling to his collar next, trying to drag him back down on you.
“Ah, ah, pet,” Alastor says, feeling the weight of the bond settle in his chest cavity, almost singing with glee.
Alastor rebinds your hand with a wave of his and the reappearance of a tentacle to enact his will, before getting up as you shout in protest.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head now Dear,” he taunts slightly as he uses his magic to swiftly divest the rest of his own clothes, you get a glimpse of wet thigh and his heavy bobbing cock before your vision is obscured again.
Whining turns to moaning as you feel his knee pushing between your legs, spreading you even wider, your head rising from the pillow trying to predict his actions again, your nose still full of woodsmoke, iron, musk and now your own arousal from the copious amount staining the bed.
The darkness consumes you as your vocal pitch gets even higher when you suddenly feel a tongue glide from perineum to clit, your entire body convulsing, your hot wet cunt pulsing, bucking your hips seeking more, your toes curling in effort.
He moans in pleasure at your taste.
“Fuck..” You cry out, your pussy reacting to the tongue with eagerness, that even the brief parting makes you sob.
“Language darling, no need to be vulgar” his voice sending shockwaves through your core as he's so close he causes vibrations with his static to course through you, your body jotling with tiny electric shocks making you seep directly onto his waiting tongue.
“Please, I- ngh.. Need you,” you’re a whining mess, thrashing your head side to side, trying to dislodge the blindfold.
He ignores your plea and buries himself face first ravenously, licking and sucking every drop of ambrosia straight from the source of your unending well of lust and need, you can’t stop moaning, your legs over his shoulders as he feasts on you.
You tug harder on the ropes, wanting to bury your fingers in his hair, tug on his ears, anything, you just want to touch him so badly as your sopping cunt gets eaten like the most delicious desert feeling it pulse around his delving tongue, a spring coils tightly in your lower belly.
He moans at your taste, his cock leaking onto the sheets below him,
You cry out as he withdraws, tears falling into the blindfold again, you know why he’s tormenting you so, but you can’t take anymore.
“PLEASE!”
You feel the bed shifting, and the blissful slide of his skin against yours, dragging himself up against your nipples, licking one wetly on his ascent, his hot breath before it envelops your mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue with a moan, feeling utterly blessed.
With one smooth hard thrust and a howling cry from you he's fully seated within you.
His hand push the backs of your thighs wide open, spreading you out for his desired position, your hips buck desperately for more.
Your walls compressing him as his thick hard cock stretches your clenching cunt wide, your body already feeling like it’s about to burst, absolutely burning within, every sensation heightened by your state of visual obscuration as you feel every millimetre of his cock wedged deep within you, your cunt helplessly fluttering around him already greedily trying to claim its prize.
The feel of his mouth smiling against yours as he plunders it, a frenzy of teeth and tongue, as he snaps his hips flush with yours causing an exquisite jolt within you as you cry out in ecstasy, the taste of him and your essence in your mouth as your body yields to his without opposition.
The flex of his stomach flush with yours as his hips roll in for another punishing thrust that has you throwing your head back and crying out to the heavens in rapturous relief your pussy clenching hard already as you squirt onto his busy pelvis, his thatch of fur soaking through, he groans picking up speed and force, intensifying your release as your pussy contracts rhythmically, squeezing him for all it’s worth, his skin slapping yours as he doesn’t let up.
He growls through gritted teeth, biting his tongue to keep him from spilling deep within you already, the feel of your pleasure almost too much for him.
“Just look at you, you were such a sassy little thing, and now...” Alastor grunts with effort, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, as your pussy spasms and squirts once more.
Your body convulsing as the rope burns your wrists from the effort. Alastor’s hands moving from your thighs to your hips for better control and power to his demanding thrusts. Your loud moans never ceasing.
His skin and fur is soaked with your early release, “...well now, you are a work of art... so weak, so pathetic, so mine... my dear you’ve never looked more glorious.” His hips not once slowing their pace as he delves deeply, his cock hitting places inside you that you never knew existed.
His cock exploring your blazing channel as your cunt spasms, burning at the stretch of being so filled by such an impressive being, with every inch of his large hungry cock that fills you, you feel as though nothing could make your body return to its state before the fucking of your entire lifetime... or death, the bed creaking ominously as he pounds away at you making sure you get thoroughly addicted to him.
Ever pulse, every drag, every whine, and groan, a blur of pleasure, pain and desperation.
You plead with him as his hands glide all over your vulnerable exposure, memorising your curves, palming your round breasts, tweaking at the darkened peaks of your sensitive mounds.
“FUCK!” You cry out as you feel something not his finger begin to stimulate your clit while he ruts fiercely away at you.
Completely blind you’ve no idea what it is that has latched onto your swollen clit, only that your trembling legs begin to tense once more already, he withdraws his mouth leaving yours free for his audio entertainment and enthral him you did with every exquisite gasp and moan.
Blinded literally and figuratively with the pleasure making your brain short circuit at his bruising pace as he nibbles at your neck, your whole body arching as you cry out and convulse once more.
The wet slapping of drenched skin ceaseless, the burning of your wrists ignored over the burning throbbing of your cunt, your legs aching as you try to keep them raised and spread needing him deeper and deeper, wanting nothing more than to be filled to the brim by him, and never let him out.
Each beat of his cock stretching your channel in every direction, hitting your cervix with agonised pleasure and he makes sure to go balls deep with every thrust, feeling as though your very guts are being rearranged.
Alastor concentrates on making sure every inch of him is imprinted deep inside of you, desiring to be unforgettable, moaning as well as he feels the saturated warmth of you clutching at him, trying to drag him back in as he tries to thrust.
Desperately your arms tugs releentlessly, trying to find purchase on him needing to hold on to anything, any part of him... He denies you however and you sob as the ropes do more damage, but the overwhelming pleasure overrides all sense of self preservation as your squirting pulsing pussy gets ruined.
You feel another pair of hands supporting your legs startling you as his hands hadn’t stopped fondling you, exploring every inch of your body, the felt colder than his hands but no less substantial, you realise it’s his shadow when it feels like its pressed under your tail too.
You can’t think about it though as with a growl his teeth clamp down on the side of your neck and he sucks a bruise into your flesh teeth pricking your skin, you moan once more, the new sensation adding to the invasion of your senses.
“Scream for me Dear, relief is earned not given my Little Doe... scream for me,” With a sharp twist on your nipple, his thrusts bullying your stomach internally with every throb and rub and twitch, the sucking sensation on your clit increases to a painful capacity.
You break.
Screaming his name “ALASTOR!” you scream through your third release absolutely bathing him, his cock making shluck sounds with every thrust as he finally gives in to his own release.
Bottoming out hard inside you once more and squeezing your tits tightly as you feel every part of him pulsing and flooding deep inside you, his hips slamming into yours, filling you to capacity, pumping every single pulse of seed inside you, making sure you take every single drop as he lifts your hips, using gravity to aid him, fucking his cum in you with his cock head, burying it firmly and making sure none escapes as he looks down at the absolute mess he’s made of you.
Alastor observes in satisfaction the blindfold still secure but drenched in tears, your skin flushed, soaked and bruised, the bite on your neck trickling warm blood down your clavicle, your legs spasm frequently from overstimulated relief, your pussy stretched wide over his still twitching cock, your wrists raw from the noose still binding them, and your entire body limp, the rapid rise and fall of your chest the only indication that you’re still conscious.
Gently he reaches to remove to blindfold, you blink against the stark change of brightness.
Eventually your eyes focus on the awe inspiring Radio Demon, his smiling look of utter smug pride as he catches his breath makes your pussy clench around him again making you whine from sensitivity, your head still quite dizzy, your body feeling heavy, it’s all you can do to not pass out.
Cooing at you, he releases your wrists from their restraints and rolling you both onto your sides he cradles you to his chest petting your hair whispering praise as he holds your wrists up for inspection, “Such a beautiful little Pet, you did so well, I’m right here, don’t you worry, I take care of what’s mine.”
There’s a green burning glow again and you feel your wrists smart once more before the pain dulls and you slump in relief against him.
Moaning as his cock shifts inside your abused hole, he chuckles and starts humming soothingly, helping you adjust and come down from your ordeal.
His own state a stark contrast to yours, he seems almost energised as he takes care of you, rubbing your back, kissing the top of your head as your legs stays slung over his waist as he slowly softens inside you, both of you dripping from your release, but you don’t have the mental faculty to be embarrassed over your particular penchant for squirting, nor his talent on seamlessly drawing it out of you.
Finally when he deems you recovered enough he scoops you up and heads to the bathroom to clean you both up, sliding gently out of your warmth making the pair of you groan, he gives you another kiss to ease you again.
The sound of his pleasure makes your heart flutter, he traverses the distance easily on his long sturdy legs, the shower already running, he steps inside the warm flow of water with you still cradled in his arms rinsing you both off as best as he can.
“Such a pretty little Doe, my perfect little pet, you felt so good wrapped around me, knew exactly how much you needed me... All this time, who knew you could be so good for me.” He seemed to narrate everything that happened, how delightfully responsive you were and how he can’t wait to see you cum for him again and again.
Your head rests on his chest still shaking from overstimulation, your pussy still sore and pulsing as he uses his tentacles to hold you and his hands to clean you, you listen to him far more than you had earlier when you’d been absconded upstairs by him, but taking no more of it in than before in your well fucked state.
Once you’re both clean he keeps you in the tentacles gentle secure hold as he grabs towels for you both, and the sight of his little fluffy tail wagging is what caused you to sober up enough to regain your senses.
The flash of green when he had to conjure towels makes you gasp as your memory comes back to you... Your hand jumping to your chest as though to grasp at your very soul as you remember what you did.... All for the sake of sex with Alastor... Damn good sex but still... How the hell did he manage that?
Your heart races in panic as he returns to you wrapping you up so carefully to dry you, you can’t help but feel affection for him and of how tender he’s being caring for you.
He finishes drying you both, the smell of him all the more potent now your dripping squirt had been cleansed from both of your skin and fur.
He carries you back into the bedroom, tucking you into now clean, dry, soft bedding.
Getting in beside you he pulls you gently into his arms, hushing you when you attempt to speak, scratching behind your ears, making your eyelids go heavy and you almost purr.
He conjures you a glass of water and holds it steady as he helps you drink, your hands still too shaky to cope.
“We’ll talk about it all tomorrow.” Alastor says softly intuitively knowing what the look in your eyes meant, seeing the fear, doubt and questions, his smile softens, seeming almost genuine, he vanished the glass and gathers you in close, pressing another softer kiss to your lips, utterly pleased with the results of today, thankful for the storm outside as he finally got everything he wanted.
“Goodnight my perfect Little Doe.”
Your eyes drift closed, his warmth and scent addictive, comforting to your overworked muscles as he rubs your back soothingly, maybe you were wrong about the risks of being infatuated with him... But still your soul? What were you going to do now... What was he going to do with you... Would you be expected to warm his bed forever? Would he expect you to housekeep like Niffty or arkeep like Husk... There was no avoiding it... From this moment on... You belonged to him... Forever Bound.
A/N: I only edited this once rather than my usual 4 times, so if there's alot of errors or issues let me know 💜
@lustylita @sevprince-91 @trulyblockedout @nox-ceur @littlestw01f @intensityofchaos @christinebloodwrittings
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The Night the High Lord Fell: Rhysand x Reader
Warnings: Angst, Lots of tears, Suggestive, 18+
***
Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. You ran from your room, darting through the halls and down the stairs of the townhouse. Dread settled over you as you ran, heading towards the darkness pooling in the living room.
Your heart broke at the sight in front of you. Rhys was kneeling in the middle of the room, his head buried in his hands. Shadows twirled around him, the floor a mass of darkest night. You hurried to his side, slamming your knees into the ground as you slid next to him. You wrapped your arms tightly around his shaking body, holding your oldest friend as close as you could.
“I’m here, i’m here. I’m here, Rhys.” You murmured over and over, one hand coming to stroke his hair. He sunk into your hold, the only sign that he even knew you were there. You continued to whisper that you were with him, that he was safe. This was a routine the two of had done since you were young. One comforting the other, grounding them and reminding them that they weren’t alone.
Though you had never seen him this bad.
You replayed the events leading up to today in your head, trying to figure out what could have upset him like this. He hadn’t been the same since he came back from Under the Mountain, but no one expected him to be. Not after all he had endured down there, ending with finding his mate-
Her wedding.
Feyre was to be married today. Realization shuddered through you, hot and fast. She married Tamlin.
She rejected Rhys.
You knew that was her own choice, that a mating bond didn’t necessarily have to be followed. You just never expected her to not be called to it. Rhys had gone to the wedding, intent on “rescuing” her. Clearly, she had not wanted to be rescued.
You saw movement out of the corner of your eye, turning slightly to see Cassian and Azriel standing in the entry. You shook your head slightly, a sign to let them know he needed to be alone. Well, aside from you. The two Illyrians nodded and retreated back, presumably to pass the information on to Amren and Mor. Something had happened with Rhys, but you had it under control. You would debrief them later.
You lost track of how long you sat there, holding your friend and whispering familiar securities. Eventually the swirling darkness around you began shrinking, called back in to its master. You stayed with Rhys until late in the night, never moving from his side. As the early rays of dawn began peaking over the horizon, he finally raised his head from his hands and looked at you.
Your heart ached at the pain on his face.
“She was happy.” He said, voice hoarse from hours of silence. “She is thriving down there. I expected to find her still struggling, I expected Tamlin to have ignored her needs, I-I-I.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “I was wrong.” You said nothing, simply tucking his head against your shoulder and resuming the stroking of his hair. Wet tears slid onto your neck, the only warning you got before his body started shaking with sobs. You held him tighter, rocking slightly. You thought about Tamlin, about how Under the Mountain must have changed him as well. You were there when he and Rhys were friends, and you were there when it was all torn apart. You didn’t think he was inherently bad, but his upbringing had certainly been no help. You still struggled to see how anyone could choose him over Rhys.
“You won’t have to handle this alone, Rhys. I’m here,” you soothed, trying to think of anything that would help. You did not know the pain of a broken mating bond, but you knew it would take a long time for him to recover from this.
And you would be by his side every step of the way.
***
Morning had fully come by the time you convinced Rhys to stand up, helping him up to his room. You drew him a bath and pushed him into it, forcing him to wash away the physical reminders of the day. You washed his hair carefully, fingers moving delicately across his scalp. You remembered his mother doing this to you when you were young, how calm you would feel when she did.
You dried him off and helped him out of the bath, handing him the towel before moving to prepare his bed. You kept the drapes drawn tight, all light blocked from the room. This was not the first time you had taken care of Rhys like this, but it was certainly the worst. You knew something in his soul had been torn out, a pain you couldn’t even begin to imagine.
You guided him into bed, not bothering to try to get him to dress. You knew him too well to waste your time on that. You tucked the covers gently around him, brushing a few strands of hair out of his face. His eyes were empty, staring unblinkingly at the ceiling. You felt a pang in your heart at the shell of your friend, seeing him in such a state. You grabbed the sleeping draught you had requested Madja bring, tilting it down his throat. He gave no protest at the sweet-tasting liquid.
You waited by his side until the draught took, watching his eyes close and his body finally relax into sleep. You sat there for a while longer after, holding his hand and observing him. Only when you had convinced yourself he was peacefully asleep and would stay that way did you stand and leave. You closed the door gently behind you, not at all surprised to find Mor waiting on the other side.
“How is he?” She asked, biting the tip of a nail in worry. You shook your head, the tears that you had been holding back escaping.
“I’ve never seen him in such a state,” you cried, wrapping your arms around yourself. Mor tugged you close, running her hand through your hair the same way you had done to Rhys. She walked you to your room, only a door down from his.
“We will get him through this. You don’t have to handle his pain on your own,” she said, making you sit on your bed.
“I don’t see how to get him out of this. He’s completely broken, Mor. The combination of all that he went through Under the Mountain and this, back to back?” A shudder ran through you. “How does one survive all that?” You felt sick even thinking about all Rhys had endured.
Mor brought you a change of clothes, gathering your hands into hers. “We have to figure out a way, don’t we? We can’t allow him to suffer in this forever.” She pressed a kiss to your forehead, giving your hands a squeeze. “If anyone can do it, it’s you.”
You watched as she left the room, insisting that you try to rest. She was off to have the kitchen prepare your favorite meal and deliver it, a subtle nudge that you should eat. You looked down at the clothes she had brought you, her words playing over and over in your mind.
“If anyone can do it, it’s you.”
“If anyone can do it, it’s you.”
“if anyone can do it, it’s you.”
But what if you can’t?
***
The next day wasn’t much better. Nor was the next. Or the one after. Certainly not the one after that.
Weeks had gone by of you trying everything you could to get through to Rhys. He barely left his bed, survived off a liquid diet that you spooned into his mouth, and never spoke a word. He was wasting away in front of your eyes, both physically and mentally.
You weren’t doing much better.
You spent all your time attempting to get through to him. After you had given him his now-nightly sleeping draught you collapsed into your bed, crying until your face was raw. The tears had begun to slow, your body losing even the energy for that. You were becoming your own shell in your desperate attempt to heal Rhys.
A knock sounded at your door. You weren’t even sure you had said “Come in,” but the door opened and Mor entered. She tsked at the state of you, carrying over a tray of food and sitting on the edge of your bed.
“Now this won’t do,” she mused, observing the rumpled sheets and your dirty hair. “You can’t help him if you’re working yourself to death!” You turned your head and bleakly opened one eye.
“I don’t know how to help him.”
“You have to help yourself first. Here, let me draw you a bath and get you cleaned up. Then we will eat and devise a new plan. Staying in that stuffy room with him all day isn’t doing either of you any good.”
You couldn’t argue with her, or maybe you just didn’t have the energy to try, so you allowed her to pull you to the bathroom and force you into the large tub. She only left after you insisted that you were able to wash yourself, dropping the sponge into the water with a huff.
When you had finished she had a warm towel ready for you, along with clean pajamas. “I will not have my two closest family members waste away into nothingness.” She stated as you got dressed, pushing the tray of food towards you. You knew better than to argue, sitting on your bed and reaching for a bread roll. You hummed at the taste, suddenly realizing how long it had been since you had a hot meal.
“Now, let’s talk,” Mor began, clapping her hands together. “Tomorrow you have to get him up and moving. He needs to go outside.” You nodded in agreement, already feeling better from bathing and eating. Gods knew getting outside would be good for you too.
“Outside. I can do that,” you agreed, grabbing another roll as you thought of how to get him out of bed tomorrow.
***
“Outside” was not as easy as it had seemed.
You strode into Rhys’ room that morning full of renewed purpose, flinging the drapes open wide and letting in the sun. You had expected him to protest in some way, to grumble at you or pull the blankets over his head.
Instead he just lay there, as unmoving as ever.
You sighed, walking over to the edge of his bed. “Come on, Rhys. We are going to go outside. Get some fresh air. Doesn’t that sound nice?” You should be used to his lack of response by now, no better than talking to a corpse. You pulled the blankets from his body, grabbing onto his hands. You tugged him up to sit, sliding his legs off the edge of the bed. “Okay Rhys, you have to help me here,” you groaned, hoisting him up to stand.
Before immediately dropping him to floor.
You gave a shout of alarm, quickly bending down to make sure he was okay. After ensuring there was no damage down, you stood up and walked for the door, telling him you’d be back shortly. You knew Cassian and Azriel had been staying at the townhouse ever since Rhys came back, too worried to reside elsewhere. You knocked on Azriel’s door, pacing while you waited for him to answer.
“Is everything okay?” He asked when he did, taking in your agitated form.
“Yes! Well, no. I mean, he’s okay, but, uh, I..” You looked down at the ground. “I may have dropped him on the floor.” Silence came from the Shadowsinger.
Followed by a sharp laugh. “You dropped him?” You looked up at him, crossing your arms defensively in front of you.
“I was trying to get him to go outside. I need your help. He can’t stay in that bed forever.” Any ounce of humor fell from Azriel’s face as he gave a nod of agreement.
“Take me to him.”
He followed you back down to Rhys’ room, taking a look at the crumpled form of his High Lord on the ground. He sighed, picking him up with ease. “Where do you want him?”
“In the bath, for now. We will battle dressing him and getting him out later.” Azriel abided, taking Rhys into the large bathing room. You followed closely behind, grabbing a set of clothes for him as you went. Between the two of you, you got Rhys into the tub and washed. Getting him out was a bit more difficult, his body slippery from the water. Azriel ended up using his shadows to haul him out, using them to keep him standing as well. You dried and dressed him quickly, unsure how much of this he was even noticing.
You looked over him with a frown. Clearly a walk would not be happening today, but you still needed to get him out. You sighed, sidling up next to him and throwing his arm around your shoulders. “Call your shadows,” you instructed Azriel, bracing yourself to take the weight of Rhys. Azriel looked half-inclined to argue before thinking better of it, pulling his shadows back from Rhys. You groaned under the dead weight, but managed to hold the two of you up. “Come on, Rhys. Walk with me to the balcony. Can you do that?” You weren’t sure he even heard you anymore, or if he had completely sunk into himself. You nudged him in the direction of the doors, taking a step.
He didn’t react.
Azriel silently took up the spot on his other side, helping you half-carry Rhys out to the balcony. You set him down on a chair, making sure he was steady before letting go. You gave Azriel a small smile, appreciative of his help. “I’ll call for you if I need your assistance again, okay?” He nodded once at the dismissal before slipping from the room, leaving you and Rhys alone on the balcony.
You pulled a second chair over to his, sitting facing him. You tucked one of his hands in yours, thumbs running over the soft skin there. “I was thinking about your mother the other day,” you began, focusing on the once strong hand in yours. “Remember when she caught us preparing that sugar trap for your sister?” You gave a small laugh, recalling how amused she had been, trying to put on an angry front. She had found the two of you covered head to toe in powdered sugar, sugar that was supposed to explode all over his sister. “She was always too nice to us, don’t you think? Washing us up in the bath after we coating her house in that powder. Making us sugar cookies once we were all clean, our only punishment that we had to share with your sister.” You shook your head, tears pricking at your eyes. “I miss them, Rhys.” Emotion clogged your throat, chest becoming tight. You continued rubbing your thumbs in soothing circles on his hand, still focused on it. “I miss you,” you whispered out, your voice not strong enough for anything louder.
Gods, you missed him.
“I know what happened to you has been horrible. I can’t even begin to imagine all you went through Under the Mountain, only to have it followed up with a broken mating bond.” Tears slid down your cheeks. “You deserve all the time to heal that you need, I know that. It’s selfish of me, I know, to wish that you were okay again. You need time to recover from it all.” You sniffed, tears coming faster. “I just miss you so much, Rhys. I don’t know what to do anymore. You were gone for fifty years, disappearing right under our noses. We barely got a goodbye.” Sobs were shaking your body now, the memory of Rhys’ warning flooding your head before all communication was lost. “Then you come back, mated to the girl who saved you. A true match, some would say. None of us thought she’d find happiness elsewhere, you know that. You go to rescue her, your fairytale romance, only to find that she didn’t need rescued.” You gave a cold laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “You found her thriving and happy in the arms of another, in the arms of your enemy. Your mate, who couldn’t be bothered with you. How cruel is that?” Hot anger flared through you at the injustice of it all. You knew Feyre deserved to be happy just as much as Rhys did, but you couldn’t help to wish that she hadn’t found happiness like that. “You come back here, a shell of yourself. Don’t you see, Rhys?” Your voice grew quiet. “You came back to me. You’ve always come back to me.” You paused the massaging of his hand, going silent for a moment.
“My heart is yours. I would give it up a thousand times over for you to live happily with the one your soul was mated to, if she had wanted that. Maybe…maybe there’s a reason she didn’t want it. More than just her love for Tamlin.” Tears fell onto his hand, one thumb moving to swipe them away. “Maybe the cauldron realized it made a mistake,” you muttered, refusing to look up at him. Not that he would react to anything you said, you weren’t even sure he could hear you. Perhaps that’s why you now felt able to tell him the truth, to tell him how you truly feel. “I love you, Rhys. I’ve loved you for a long time now. I know you wanted a mate, that you held out for the soul cauldron-bound to yours. When you found her, I accepted that was it. I would move to the side, no longer your Second both in court and in your life. And that was okay. Anything to see you happy was worth it.” Your tears slowed, as if putting the truth out there was healing the brokenness inside of you. “But what now, Rhys? You are wasting away into nothingness, and I don’t know what to do. I need you to come back. Please. Come back to me, one last time.” You slowly raised his hand to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to it before letting go.
Except the hand did not drop.
Instead, it curled around one of yours.
Your head shot up in alarm, eyes wide as you saw Rhys looking at you. Truly looking at you. His eyes were shiny with tears of his own, his hand locked tight around yours. As if he was scared that if he let go you’d bolt and never be seen again.
“Is it true?” He asked, voice hoarse. “You love me?” You bit your lip nervously, nodding slowly. Was it too much? You hadn’t realized he was listening, you should’ve looked up sooner, how could you dump all that on hi-
Your thoughts were interrupted by him pulling you forcefully into his lap, wrapping his arms tight around you. “Oh, sweet angel,” he murmured into your hair, arms strong around you. You slowly moved to twine your arms around his neck, holding him just as tight. “I never thought you’d feel the same.”
Your head shot up and you looked at him, narrowing your eyes. “What?” Rhys laughed, a sound so joyful you couldn’t help the smile the ticked at the corners of your mouth. He raised one hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, cupping your face lovingly.
“I’ve been in love with you for ages. I assumed you didn’t feel the same, and I didn’t wish to ruin what we had. While I did want a mate, I used that excuse as more of a front than a real reason. It was never about who my mate was.” He smiled at you. “It was always about you.”
You continued to stare at him in shock, your mind unable to believe what he was saying. All this time, all this time, you both wanted each other. You didn’t realize you were crying again until his eyes widened in alarm, brushing the tears away from your cheeks with his hands. “Hey, don’t cry, don’t cry. I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you long ago, shouldn’t I?” You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up through you, pure disbelief at the situation.
“We have been fools,” you said, smiling at him. “Sad, poor fools.” He laughed with you, pressing his forehead to yours.
“Perhaps we have been. I’m willing to forgive our past mistakes if you promise to stand by my side until the end of our days. If you will have me.” You nodded against him, tears of joy falling from your eyes. He smiled, before dropping his voice ever so slightly. “May I kiss you?”
You gave an answering smile, curling your fingers into the hair on the back of his head. “You may.”
Rhys’ lips met yours a little uncertainly, as if he was scared to come on too strong. You flattened one palm against the back of his neck, pushing him closer to you. He took that as a sign to abandon all caution, one hand wrapping tight around your waist while the other held your face to his. He kissed you with a passion you had never experienced, the feeling of a thousand suns bursting inside of you. You moaned slightly against his kiss, his fingers digging into your waist at the sound. This was where you were meant to be, this was what it had all been for.
Rhys’ hand trailed down your body, stopping on the curve of your thigh. He hoisted your legs up and over him, making you straddle his body. You gasped at the feeling of him under you, his hips coming up to roll against yours. His fingers played with the hem of your shirt, teasing the skin there. You were seconds away from abandoning all rational thought and allowing him to take you right here when a low cough sounded from the doorway. You shot back from Rhys, eyes darting to the intruder. Rhys only chuckled, hand trailing up and down your body.
Azriel.
“I just came to check everything was okay, but I see you’ve got it under control.” He said, eyes sparkling with a million plans to tease you for this. You glared at him, thoughts muddled by Rhys pressing soft kisses to your neck.
“Yes, Azriel, everything is under control. Now if you’d leave us, I have some rather important matters to attend to,” Rhys said, biting your skin in between words. Azriel nodded, a smile ghosting his lips as he disappeared from view.
And attend to those matters he did.
***
Happy Mother’s Day to any moms I have following me!! 🫶🏻 And Happy Sunday to everyone else haha. I hope you guys liked this one!!
#acotar x reader#rhys x reader#rhysand x reader#acotar x you#acotar x y/n#rhysand x y/n#rhysand x you#rhys x y/n#rhys x you#the night the high lord fell#azrielsdoves 1k celebration
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Hello! May I kindly ask for a Tav comforting Rolan after a night terror/nightmare? I loved the Rolan comforting Tav after a nightmare headcannons and I would love to see the roles reversed!
Hello, lovely! Sorry it took so long for me to get to this one! I hope you enjoy!!
Tav Comforting Rolan After a Nightmare
I think we all need to be honest with one another; after everything that man has been through, there is undoubtedly some level of trauma there. The mind is resilient, but only to a certain extent, and he endures enough over the short course of the game to last a lifetime.
He won't say anything about it - Tav has to be the one to bring it up, to initiate comfort; he doesn't want to swallow his pride. Terrified that he's weak or less than in the eyes of others.
Which is blatantly untrue. It takes courage to be open and vulnerable with others.
They'd wake to him sitting upright in bed, staring at the far wall, lips pressed into a thin line. Though he's doing his best to seem composed, it's clear that he's anything but.
The second Tav pulls him into their arms, he falters; 'I'm fine', or, 'You don't have to worry about me, go back to sleep'.
When Tav presses a kiss to his temple and insists that they care about him, that they'd like to know what troubles him, he'd crumble.
The sheer earnestness in their eyes, the soft, genuine care in their tone. How could he not?
And so he tells them - about how nights are sleepless more often than not. About how sometimes, when he closes his eyes, he can feel the shadow curse peeling its way beneath his skin. Can hear the nasal of Lorroakan's voice.
They gently coax him back into laying down with them, and they pull him close to their chest. Softly thank him for opening up to them, that they know it can't have been easy.
He feels safe, here, in their arms. And while it doesn't undo the past, he knows that he doesn't have to endure the weight of everything alone.
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Hidden Away || Rhysand
Summary: Request -hi if ur reqs are open, could you maybe write a fic with rhys where feyre is not his mate but reader? can r also be tamlins sister so when he locked feyre up in the manor, he also locked r with her? then r is just trying to break the barrier but shes draining her powers in the process so when mor and rhys arrive, r is just on the brink of passing out. thank you so so much! hope u have a good day!!
A/N: Rhys is challenging! Let me know how you like it below :) As always thank you for the requests!
Pairing: Rhysand x Female Reader (Spring Court Reader/Tamlin's Sister)
Word Count: 8.4k +
TW: Talks of abuse, use of magic
As Tamlin's nearly unknown sister your life within the Spring Court is shrouded in secrecy. Tucked away from the public eye, you roam the silent corridors of the manor with your presence barely acknowledged. The manor's ancient stones, cool under your fingertips, are the closest companions in your secluded existence. Each day bleeds into the next marked only by your secret practice of magic in the hidden corners of the lush gardens where the wildflowers refuse to be tamed.
Tamlin had his reasons for keeping you a secret though they were rooted in a misguided sense of protection and control rather than genuine care. From the moment you were born your existence was cloaked in secrecy. Tamlin was always wary of political machinations and potential threats from rival courts. He believed that hiding your presence would keep you safe from those who might seek to leverage you against him. As you grew older this excuse became a method to maintain control by suppressing any threat your emerging powers might pose to his authority.
Whenever important guests visited the Spring Court Tamlin would go to great lengths to conceal your existence. Often you were confined to the secluded parts of the manor. Your movements restricted. Your voice silenced. These actions weren't just physically isolating. They were deeply wounding, reinforcing a sense of imprisonment. Over time you learned that resistance was futile. After a century of struggling against Tamlin’s overpowering magic, a magic that you could never hope to match due to your suppressed knowledge and training, you ceased fighting back. Your spirit, dimmed by isolation and the relentless dampening of your will, began to fade.
Despite all this you’ve learned to cloak your discontent with a veneer of obedience by teaching yourself the subtle arts of magic from fragments of ancient texts and whispers of the wind. Each spell you cast is a silent rebellion against the isolation imposed upon you. It wasn’t much but it certainly was something.
Meanwhile, Rhysand had always felt an inexplicable pull towards the Spring Court. This sensation was particularly strong whenever he visited Tamlin's lands. Each step within its borders intensified a feeling of latent connection. A thread of destiny that seemed to tug at his very soul. For years he couldn't decipher this feeling instead attributing it to political tensions or his natural distrust of Tamlin. However, he knew the sensation was far deeper. He just didn’t know he was connected to the bond that lay dormant between him and you waiting for the right moment to awaken.
This mysterious pull was part of the mating bond that neither of you were aware of yet. Rhysand’s visits to the Spring Court were unknowingly steps towards his destiny, towards you. His soul recognized what his mind could not yet understand. That his mate was hidden within the very walls of the Spring Court suppressed under Tamlin’s rule. It was a bond that defied explanation, woven by the threads of fate, magic, and a longing that transcended Rhysand's conscious understanding.
The monotony of your hidden life breaks when Feyre returns from Under the Mountain, changed. No longer the mortal girl who once crossed into the fae lands she now carries the weight of her new immortal form along with the haunting shadows of her trials. Initially your interactions are tentative. The air between you charged with the unsaid. However, as time weaves its slow dance you find in her a kindred spirit. Another soul chafing against the constraints of Tamlin’s overprotective nature.
Under the cover of night where the moon casts silver slivers through the windowpanes you and Feyre meet quietly. There in the tranquility of darkness, you share fragments of your lives. Your years spent hidden within these walls and her days under the mountain and the heavy price of her return. Each story shared tightens the thread of understanding between you.
In these stolen moments you reveal to Feyre the secret magic you’ve nurtured. Her eyes, reflecting the glow of your spells, flicker with a mix of surprise and a burgeoning sense of solidarity. Encouraged by her interest you find the courage to dream of more than just secretive practices. Together you whisper of freedom and plot beneath the starry sky. Your magic mingling with her newfound strength.
Tamlin had cast a powerful and intricate spell around the manor. Not just as a means of protection from external threats but also as a method of control over those within its walls. This spell was multi-layered, designed to enforce Tamlin's rule and suppress any dissent. For you it was a tangible manifestation of your confinement. An ever-present force that limited your movements and dampened your inherent magical abilities.
The spell was woven into the very foundations of the manor. Invisible yet oppressively palpable. It acted as a barrier not just against physical entry but against magical influence from outside. And crucially it curbed the magical potential of those it enclosed. For someone like you whose powers had been stifled and knowledge kept minimal the spell represented a severe handicap. A chain around the very essence of your being.
On a stormy night, you and Feyre found yourselves poring over ancient texts and forbidden scrolls. These documents were hidden away in the darkest corners of the library and contained arcane knowledge that Tamlin had likely never intended for you to find. They spoke of old magic, powerful and untamed, the kind that could potentially unravel the complex web of spells Tamlin had cast.
The air in the library was heavy with the scent of old parchment and an undercurrent of desperation. Each incantation you attempted, every ritual you performed to try and dismantle Tamlin’s barriers, drained you more profoundly than the last. The magical exertion pulled at the very essence of your being. Proof to the spell's strength and your own nascent powers trying to break free.
Feyre who was transformed and strengthened by her ordeal under the mountain was exactly what you needed beside you. She lent her newfound powers to your cause. Yet, as the night unfolded and the storm outside mirrored the tumult within her concern for you deepened. She saw the physical and magical toll the efforts took on you. The color draining from your face. Your hands trembling with the strain. But still, you wouldn’t give up. Couldn’t give up.
Despite the risk the need to break free from the suffocating constraints of Tamlin’s spell pushed you both forward. It wasn't just about escape. It was about reclaiming your right to autonomy, to magic, to life itself. The friendship that grew between you and Feyre was cemented not just by shared secrets but by this mutual struggle for liberation. A struggle against the literal and figurative walls that Tamlin had erected around you.
As dawn approached with the storm still raging outside you and Feyre reached a critical point in your efforts. A breakthrough seemed tantalizingly within reach. The words on the ancient scrolls beginning to resonate with the energy you both channeled. The walls of the manor groaned under the pressure of your combined powers. A sure sign that Tamlin's spell was finally beginning to falter.
Determined to break the oppressive chains once and for all you both head into the heart of the storm where the barrier's energy pulses strongest. The rain beats down mercilessly mingling with the energy of your combined spell. A desperate, powerful incantation aimed at shattering the bonds. The backlash is swift and fierce. A surge of raw, antagonistic energy from the barrier meets your spell head-on. The impact is like a physical blow, knocking the breath from your lungs and sending sharp tendrils of pain coursing through your veins. The world tilts dangerously with your vision narrowing.
Feyre grips your hands as her own powers flared around you both in a protective embrace. "We can do this, Y/N, just a bit more—"
But her encouragement turns to a scream of horror as your legs give out completely. Your strength finally failing. As you collapse into her arms, your consciousness fading, her fear peaks. "No! Y/N, no, stay with me, please!" The raw panic in her voice is palpable. Her plea filled with a primal terror that she cannot contain. Her scream is not just vocal. It's a surge of emotional energy that travels through the bargain she shares with Rhysand.
At that moment, in the distant Night Court, Rhysand feels a jolt. A sharp, unbidden intrusion into his thoughts. Feyre’s voice was distorted by panic and edged with despair, echoes in his mind. "No! Y/N, no, stay with me, please!" The words hit him with the force of a physical blow. His heart races. His instincts scream. Without a second thought he’s on his feet. The protective and commanding part of him taking over. Mor sensed the urgency. She looks up from her work with alarm spreading across her face.
"We need to go to the Spring Court. We must go now." Rhysand barks out. His voice brooking no argument. He can't explain how he knows only that the terror in Feyre's voice has triggered something primal in him. Something fiercely protective. As he and Mor prepare to leave Rhysand's mind races with possibilities. His worry mounting with each passing second. The bargain was not one of mates but has acted as a lifeline in this critical moment. He is driven by a deep-seated need to respond, to protect, to arrive in time.
In the dim light of the storm-lashed evening back in the confines of the Spring Court, Feyre cradled you against her as her arms forming a protective barrier against the unrelenting winds and rain that battered the walls of the manor. The spells that Tamlin had woven around the estate groaned under the strain, resonating with the fury of the storm.
As you lay there nearly depleted by your attempts to break through Tamlin’s magical barriers you found every breath to be a battle. Feyre leaned close. Her voice barely audible above the howl of the wind. "Help is coming, Y/N. Just hold on. Please, hold on." Her words were infused with a mixture of determination and desperation. A fervent plea cast into the chaos of the night.
Despite her assurances you knew that Feyre had no way of knowing if help would truly come. She wasn't versed in the intricacies of the bargain she made, nor did she understand the silent, unseen forces that might be at play beyond the reach of Tamlin’s spells. Her faith was not based on certainty but on hope. A hope that Rhysand was somehow attuned to the peril you faced and would sense your need and find a way to breach the seemingly impenetrable defenses of the Spring Court.
As the minutes stretched into what felt like hours, the storm outside seemed to mirror the tumult of your emotions. With every gust of wind, with every crack of thunder, you felt the edges of your resolve fray. Yet with Feyre’s presence and her unwavering support it fortified you. Together you were wrapped in the scant warmth her body provided against the chill of the rain. You waited silently hoping.
Feyre continued to whisper into the storm. Words of encouragement and silent prayers mingled with the rain reaching out into the night as if the very force of her will could summon the help you so desperately needed.
As Rhysand and Mor race through the turbulent night sky the urgency of Feyre's distress call pulses within Rhysand. However, the formidable magical barrier erected by Tamlin at the Spring Court looms as a daunting obstacle. As they approach the boundary Rhysand's expression turns contemplative knowing they must penetrate the shield without triggering a violent magical backlash that could harm those inside.
"We can't just break through. It could harm them," Rhysand says. His thoughts on Feyre and the unknown others who might be caught in Tamlin’s protective snare. He suspects there are more secrets hidden within the Spring Court than Feyre alone.
Mor nods before pointing towards a section of the barrier shimmering less steadily than the rest—a weak point. "Here, let me," she offers, her hands glowing with a soft, probing light.
Together, they carefully manipulate the energies. Mor’s magic coaxing the threads of the barrier apart while Rhysand supports and stabilizes the surrounding spells to prevent a sudden collapse. The barrier relents under their skilled hands. Parting just enough to allow them a silent passage.
Once inside they quickly make their way towards the garden guided by the unerring pull of Rhysand's intuition, which grows stronger with each step. The night air is heavy with the scent of rain-soaked earth and the lingering traces of magic.
There, under an ancient oak, they find you lying in Feyre's protective embrace. Your appearance is startling to Rhysand. You were someone he's heard of but never met. A whispered secret of the Spring Court. Feyre’s eyes were wide with fear and relief. She meets their stares as they approach.
Rhysand’s initial intent to aid Feyre shifts as he catches your gaze. Something profound stirs within him as your eyes lock. There’s an unexpected jolt. A powerful surge of protectiveness that grips him. His knees nearly buckle under the sudden intensity of the emotion. His breath catching in his throat. The connection is unexpected, overwhelming, and in that moment, the significance of your presence begins to dawn on him.
"We will get you both out of here," Rhysand finds himself saying, the words carrying a weight he hadn't anticipated. His voice is gentle. Meant to reassure as he reaches out to steady you. His own magic instinctively flaring to envelop you in a warm, healing glow.
The touch confirms what his heart has already started to suspect. The mating bond, still new and unexplored, thrums with a rightness that transcends his understanding. It’s only when he helps lift you, his arms secure around you, that the realization fully settles in… his fate is irrevocably tied to yours.
With Mor and Feyre's assistance they carefully navigate back through the garden. Rhysand carrying you with an ease that belies the turmoil brewing within him. Each step back through the breach in the barrier is a step towards a new unknown, a journey he hadn't planned but now cannot imagine avoiding. As they slip back into the night heading towards the sanctuary of the Night Court Rhysand is quiet. His thoughts a whirl of possibilities and new realities. Beside him Mor watches thoughtfully. She was acutely aware that the High Lord of the Night Court was about to embark on a profoundly personal journey.
-
The night was deep and still when Rhysand was abruptly torn from his sleep. A sharp, jarring pulse of panic surged through the bond—a connection still new and startling in its intensity. It was you, finally waking from your long, enforced slumber, and the raw fear that washed over him from your end of the bond had him on his feet before he fully registered moving.
His heart raced as he crossed the space between his private chambers and the room where you rested. The halls of his residence silent save for the quiet thud of his bare feet on the cool marble floor. The bond pulsed with each heartbeat guiding him directly to you underscoring the urgency of your distress with every step he took.
As Rhysand approached the door to your room, he paused, taking a deep breath to calm the storm of his emotions. He needed to be a presence of peace for you not one of turmoil. Gently pushing the door open he stepped inside. His eyes quickly adjusting to the low light that bathed the room in gentle silvers and blues.
There you were attempting to sit up, your movements clumsy with weakness and disorientation. The room's luxuriousness that meant to comfort seemed only to add to your confusion. You grasped at the sheets. Your breathing quick and shallow as if the soft fabrics were the only things tethering you to reality.
Rhysand’s heart clenched at the sight. It was one thing to feel your panic through the bond, but quite another to see it etched so clearly across your features. He approached slowly. His presence commanding yet gentle, stopping a respectful distance away to not overwhelm you. His deep-set eyes, usually a striking shade of violet were clouded with concern.
"It’s okay, you’re safe here," Rhysand said. His voice a soft yet firm anchor in the swirling uncertainty you felt. His relief at seeing you awake, even in such a state, was palpable in his tone. Despite the fear there was an underlying gratitude that you were finally conscious. That there was a beginning of recovery however fraught it might be. "You're in Velaris, the heart of the Night Court." He adds hopping to provide you some comfort.
"Velaris?" you repeat. The name unfamiliar and puzzling. You squint at him trying to place the city that sounds more like a myth than reality.
"Yes, Velaris," he continues noting your confusion. "It's a city unlike any in the fae realms, hidden and protected by powerful spells. It's a place of peace and freedom. It is far from the reach of those who would impose their will unjustly." His voice holds a note of pride when he speaks of the city, and his explanation paints a picture of a safe haven. A contrast to the oppressive atmosphere of the Spring Court.
Seeing your slightly eased expression he decided to introduce himself, "I'm Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court." He keeps his tone even giving you space to process the flood of new information. "You were very ill, so we brought you here to recover. Tamlin cannot reach you here. Our city's protections are strong."
His explanation about Tamlin brings a different kind of tightness to your chest—the fear of pursuit and retribution. Feeling and seeing your growing anxiety, Rhysand adds, "Tamlin has no power here. You and Feyre are both safe and you will always have a place in Velaris."
As Rhysand speaks of Velaris and its protections you find yourself momentarily comforted by his description of the city as a safe haven. Yet, another concern quickly surfaces, tugging at your thoughts with earnest sincerity.
"And Feyre?" you ask. Your voice carrying the weight of genuine worry. "Is she okay?" Your expression reveals the depth of your concern not just for your own situation but also for Feyre who had been entangled in your fate by association.
Rhysand’s expression softens further at your question. His smile tinged with a mix of admiration and surprise. He steps closer, his presence comforting rather than overwhelming. "She is doing well," he assures you, leaning down slightly to meet your gaze more directly. "Are you going to ask about everyone but yourself?" His tone is light and teasing yet it carries an undercurrent of deep respect for your altruism.
He finds it endearing how your first thoughts are for others even in your own time of uncertainty and recovery. It’s a trait he notes is incredibly sweet. Almost too kind for someone who grew up under Tamlin's strict and often harsh rule as his sister, no less.
A faint smile flickers across your face at Rhysand’s light teasing before it quickly fades. You glance away looking out over the vista that the Night Court offers feeling a sudden tightness in your chest. "I... it's just easier to worry about others," you murmur. Your voice barely above a whisper. The unfamiliar concern in his eyes makes you unexpectedly uncomfortable. A reminder of how long you've had to rely solely on yourself. You shift away slightly putting a small distance between you and Rhysand as if the space could help you regain some control. "I'm not used to being someone's concern," you add while keeping your gaze averted. "It feels strange I guess. Not having to fend for myself."
Your words hang in the air showing the walls you've built from years under Tamlin's rule. The Spring Court was a place where self-reliance wasn't just a trait but a necessity for survival. The vulnerability of relying on someone else, even someone as seemingly gentle as Rhysand, feels as foreign as the magical landscape of Velaris itself.
Rhysand senses a subtle shift in your emotions through the bond. A twinge of discomfort, a whisper of withdrawal. He understands too well the complexities of adjusting to new dynamics of care and concern. As you glance away he gives you a moment. He respects your need for space before responding himself.
With a slight adjustment in his stance, Rhysand maintains his gentle smile, hoping to ease the tension. "Feyre visits often," he begins, his voice soft, an attempt to gently steer the conversation towards a more comfortable topic. "She's taken quite well to her roles here. She worries about you too, you know," he adds trying to build a connection through your shared concern for Feyre.
His words bring a small comfort, and you nod to him feeling a thread of relief woven through the lingering disquiet. "That's good to hear," you murmur giving yourself a moment to absorb the reassurances about Feyre's well-being.
Rhysand watches you with a thoughtful expression appreciating the selflessness displayed in your first waking moments. "Now, let’s focus a bit on you," he suggests kindly. "You’ve been through a lot and while Velaris is safe… I imagine it's quite a lot to take in."
Rhysand's words wash over you and you pause to absorb them feeling both comforted and overwhelmed by his understanding. "It is a lot," you agree softly, your gaze drifting around the unfamiliar yet beautiful room. "Everything here is so different. So overwhelming but not in a bad way."
You take a deep breath making sure to gather your thoughts before continuing. "I appreciate the safety and the peace here, Rhysand. It's just... I'm still figuring out where I fit into all of this." Your voice is tentative, reflecting your uncertainty about the future.
Rhysand nods. His expression empathetic. "And that's perfectly okay," he reassures you gently. "Take all the time you need to feel comfortable. There’s no pressure for you to decide anything right now."
Feeling a mix of reassurance and nascent courage from his support you decide to push yourself a bit. Attempting to rise from the bed, your movements are unsteady. A reminder of the physical and emotional tolls from your past. You pause, placing a hand on the mattress to steady yourself.
Rhysand notices your struggle immediately. His sharp gaze softening with concern. "You shouldn't be on your feet just yet," he cautions with his voice gentle yet firm.
You steady yourself with a hand against the soft bedding and look up at him. Your eyes were wide and earnest, silently pleading for understanding before you voice your deep-seated longing. "Please, I've... I’ve never left the Spring Court. I wish to see what other courts look like."
The raw honesty in your words strikes Rhysand deeply. He hesitates aware of the physical contact you might need to stand and walk, yet also conscious of the trauma you’ve likely endured under Tamlin's watch. His heart clenches at the thought of your centuries-long confinement. A life that wasn’t meant to be spent caged within a single court's borders.
As you continue to gaze at him with a mix of hope and vulnerability in your eyes Rhysand's resolve softens. "Alright," he murmurs. His expression a mix of encouragement and a hint of sadness for your past suffering. He steps forward offering his arm for support being careful to let you decide the level of contact you're comfortable with.
When you gratefully accept his help you leant slightly into his strength. Rhysand carefully supports you, mindful of your frailty. As he guides you slowly around the room his mind races. He was appalled by the reality that you, centuries old, have been essentially a prisoner for just as long.
"We’ll start with Velaris," Rhysand says as you take tentative steps towards the balcony. "It’s beautiful this time of year. The city is alive with lights and the people are free. You'll see, it’s a world away from what you've known."
Your curiosity brightens your features as each small detail of the room you now notice seeming to intrigue you. Rhysand watches this small transformation with a protective fierceness settling in his chest. He makes a silent vow then, to not only show you the beauty of the Night Court but to gradually introduce you to the freedoms and wonders of each of the courts ensuring you experience everything you've been denied.
With each step you take leaning on Rhysand a surprising sense of security begins to wash over you. There’s an inexplicable comfort in his presence. A safety that seems to emanate from him directly. You can't quite pinpoint why he feels so safe, why every instinct isn’t screaming for you to run from the unknown. But as you lean more heavily against him while navigating through the unfamiliar room it felt right.
Rhysand notices the subtle shift in your demeanor. The slight relaxation in your posture as you trust him more with each tentative step. It’s a trust he doesn’t take lightly as he was acutely aware of the preciousness of it given your past. He guides you gently, ensuring each movement is steady and unhurried.
“Just a little further,” he encourages softly as you approach the grand doors leading to the balcony. As he pushes the doors open a gentle breeze wafts in carrying with it the unique scents of Velaris. The crisp, clean air mingled with distant sea salt and the vibrant aroma of night-blooming flowers.
You step onto the balcony and the view that unfolds before you steals your breath away. The city of Velaris stretches out beneath a sky littered with stars. Its buildings adorned with luminescent glyphs and streets alive with softly glowing lanterns. The Sidra River reflects the lights creating a sparkling path that leads to the heart of the city. Your eyes dart from spot to spot taking in the sight of sprawling bridges. From the artistic sculptures that line the walkways to the fae moving about with an ease and freedom so alien to what you’ve known. Everything is so vibrant, so vividly alive. It's like stepping into a dream.
Rhysand watches you. His expression a mix of pride and gentle amusement. “It’s a lot to take in,” he say as his voice is barely above a whisper not wanting to break the enchantment of the moment.
“It’s beautiful,” you breathe out as your voice was filled with wonder. "I never imagined..." Your words trail off as you continue to soak in the sight, the reality of Velaris surpassing any tale or description of the Night Court you had ever heard in the Spring Court.
As you stand there, awestruck, Rhysand stands close. He was ready to offer support if needed but giving you space to experience this revelation on your own terms. There’s a warmth in his gaze. A certain softness when he looks at you, moved by your reaction, understanding just how transformative this moment is for you. “This is only a part of what the world has to offer,” Rhysand finally says, his voice low and encouraging. “And you’re free to explore all of it at your own pace. You’re not confined here, or anywhere anymore.”
As his words wash over you a new fear prickles at the edges of your newfound sense of wonder. "But Tamlin..." you start. His name a dark cloud threatening to overshadow the bright promise of freedom.
Rhysand’s reaction is immediate though. He shakes his head, cutting off your spiraling worry with a firmness that is both surprising and comforting. "Tamlin will never touch another hair on your head, darling. I will ensure it." His voice is resolute as it leaves no room for doubt. The sincerity in his tone and the warmth of his smile are reassuring, conveying a depth of commitment that makes you believe him. He’s telling the truth. You can feel it not just in his words but in the protective energy that seems to radiate from him.
As you stand there on the balcony looking out over the luminous city a confusion mingles with your gratitude. He is the High Lord of the Night Court. A figure of immense power and responsibility. Why would he extend such kindness, such personal assurance, to you? His station alone would suggest a detachment from individual affairs, yet here he is, offering not just his protection but his personal attention.
"Why?" The question escapes you before you can think better of it. Your gaze turning from the cityscape to meet his eyes. "Why would you do this for me? You're the High Lord, and yet..."
Rhysand’s expression softens understanding the root of your bewilderment. "Because everyone deserves freedom and safety," he begins, his gaze steady and earnest. "And because, despite my title I see no one as beneath my care. Especially not someone who has suffered as you have under such tyranny."
His words hint at a broader philosophy. One that governs his rule, a complete difference to the oppressive leadership of Tamlin. "Here in Velaris we protect our own and now that includes you. You’re not just under my protection because of duty but because I believe in a world where everyone has the right to choose their own path, free from fear."
His explanation resonates with you. The sincerity and conviction in his voice weaving a stronger thread of trust between you. The High Lord of the Night Court you realize is not just a ruler but a protector. He was guided by a compassion that perhaps defines his reign more than his power. As you absorb his words the city of Velaris seems to glow a little brighter. Its lights a hope of the promise Rhysand offers. A promise not just of shelter but of a life reclaimed and respected.
As Rhysand's words and the gentle sincerity behind them settle over you something shifts inside you. The fear that had been a constant companion starts to ebb away instead replaced by a sense of security you hadn’t felt in a very long time. Standing beside him, overlooking the luminous city of Velaris, you allow yourself a moment to truly take in his presence. A protector not just in title but in spirit.
The tension that had knotted your shoulders begins to unwind and without fully realizing it a small smile curves your lips. It's slight but it's the first genuine smile you’ve allowed yourself in what feels like centuries. "You know, my brother made you seem terrifying," you confess as the smile growing a bit as you speak. "You're anything but that though."
Rhysand catches the change in your expression and his eyes light up with amusement. In response he flashes you a devastatingly handsome smirk, one that's known to both unsettle and charm. "Did he now?" he says lowly. His voice laced with mock severity before it softens into warmth. "Perhaps I should be offended but coming from Tamlin I'll take it as a compliment."
His response was light and teasing. Spoken to ease the atmosphere, to let you know that it's okay to relax, to laugh, to feel safe. "Tamlin has always had a flair for the dramatic," Rhysand continues. His tone playful now. "But I hope that here in Velaris you’ll see me as I am. And perhaps find that the 'terrifying' High Lord of the Night Court can also be a friend." His words were spoken with a gentle candor and encourage a lighter heart. The warmth in his voice, the open invitation to view him as more than just a lord but as a person, deepens the budding trust and comfort you feel in his presence.
As the night air swirls around you carrying with it the vibrant energies of Velaris you find yourself more receptive to the idea of a new start. Rhysand with his easy charm and sincere protection seems not just a guardian but a companion on this journey of rediscovery. His ability to blend strength with kindness, authority with empathy, makes you believe that maybe, just maybe, you can truly start anew here.
"You make it sound almost easy," you reply. The smile now firmly in place, feeling more natural than it has for ages.
Rhysand's smirk softens into a genuine smile. "I'll do my best to make it feel that way," he assures you. "You’ve had enough of the hard path. It’s time for you to experience the peace you deserve."
-
In the weeks following your awakening Rhys had been a constant, reassuring presence by your side as you navigated the complexities of the Night Court. The city of Velaris had begun to feel less like a foreign land and more like a potential home. Rhys had carefully gauged when you might be ready to meet more people. He was intentionally keeping even his closest friends, Cassian and Azriel, at a distance to allow you time to adjust. He mentioned plans to introduce them soon ensuring that you felt comfortable with each new step.
During this time your days were filled with activities that gradually stitched you into the fabric of this new life. Rhys guided you through physical training sessions aiming to strengthen both your body and spirit. But it wasn’t all rigorous. You spent serene afternoons with Feyre, dabbling in painting. Despite your initial lack of skill Feyre was a patient teacher, encouraging every brushstroke. In exchange you helped her continue learning to read turning each session into a mutual exchange of growth and laughter.
It was a clear, crisp day in Velaris. The kind of day that made the light seem to dance off every surface, imbuing the world with a vivid sharpness. You were in the middle of a training session with Rhysand in one of the secluded gardens of the Night Court practicing your swordplay. The metal felt cool and heavy in your hands as it slowly became more familiar with each controlled swing and parry.
Rhys was ever the patient instructor. He watched and guided you, his instructions both precise and encouraging. As you moved to execute a particularly complex maneuver, something unexpected happened. Amidst the focus on your movements and the rhythm of the blades, a sudden surge of warmth blossomed deep within your chest radiating outwards like the morning sun cresting the horizon.
It was an intense, engulfing wave that seemed to momentarily still the world around you. The sensation was as if a veil had been lifted, connecting you to Rhysand in an indescribably profound way. It felt as though your very souls had reached out and intertwined creating a bond that pulsed with life and energy.
"What... what was that?" you gasped, lowering your sword as you looked up at Rhysand, your heart pounding not from exertion but from the shock of the unexpected connection. The air between you seemed charged, heavy with a significance that you struggled to comprehend.
Rhysand’s eyes met yours with a spark of recognition and perhaps something akin to relief flashing across his features. His stance softened, and the world seemed to resume its usual pace, but the atmosphere remained changed. It was thick with the newfound awareness between you.
"That," Rhysand said softly. His voice steady yet filled with a warmth that echoed the sensation in your chest, "was the mating bond. It's rare, profound. A connection of souls that can occur between two individuals. It seems it has chosen to manifest between us now."
His words sank in, each one laden with meaning as you tried to process the enormity of what had just occurred. The bond, this deep and intrinsic link, had unveiled itself without warning. It aligned you with Rhysand in a way that went beyond mere physical presence or shared goals. It was as if a part of you had known him, deeply and irrevocably, for much longer than you physically had.
The weight of his confession hung in the air. Heavy with the realization of how deeply the bond affected him from the very beginning. “You mean, we’re..." you started, the reality of his words slowly sinking in.
"Mates," Rhysand confirmed gently. "Yes. And while that might mean many things, know this—you're not bound by it against your will. We can explore what it means together, at your pace." The reassurance in his words allowed you to smile, feeling a genuine connection to the path unfolding before you. The bond was no longer just an abstract force. It was a tangible link between your present recovery and a future filled with possibilities.
Rhysand watched you with something akin to awe as you carefully practiced the sword techniques he had shown you. "We have all the time in the world," he said softly. His eyes never leaving yours. "There's no rush. You’re safe here, with me, with us, in Velaris."
His words seemed to only deepen the stir of emotions within you. Pausing, the sword momentarily forgotten in your hand, you met his gaze, vulnerability shadowing your features. "And... are you okay with that? A bond with me of all people?" Your voice was tinged with disbelief as though the very idea of someone like Rhysand being tied to you was something unfathomable.
The sadness that flickered across Rhysand’s face was swift, a passing cloud on a sunny day, but it was enough to reveal the depth of his feelings. He set aside his own weapon and stepped closer with his expression turning earnest. "I can't think of anything I'd want more," he said quietly while reaching for your hand to provide a tangible reassurance. "These past few weeks of getting to know you, seeing your strength and your kindness. It's not just the bond that makes me feel this way. I... I already care about you, deeply."
His confession hung in the air between you, sincere and heartfelt. The way he looked at you in that moment, his eyes filled with a gentle intensity, made it clear that his words were not merely spoken out of obligation or a sense of duty that the bond might impose. They were rooted in genuine affection and respect for the person you were.
Rhysand gently squeezed your hand, his touch warm and encouraging. "I consider myself incredibly fortunate to have this bond with you," he continued with a soft smile touching his lips as he tried to alleviate the heavy atmosphere. "You're remarkable darling. And yes, I am more than okay with it. I’m grateful."
His reassurance was spoken with such candor and helped ease some of the uncertainty that weighed on you. The bond was once a source of confusion and a reminder of your past constraints but began to feel more like a gift. An unexpected but precious connection to someone who not only promised safety but offered understanding and companionship.
As Rhysand released your hand and stepped back, giving you the space to process his heartfelt words, a sense of warmth unfurled within you. The weight of uncertainties began to lift replaced by a burgeoning sense of connection to this man who was both your protector and, unexpectedly, your confidant.
Mirroring the soft smile that graced Rhysand's lips you found the courage to voice your own budding feelings, simple yet profound. "I like you too, Rhysand," you said. Your voice carrying a tender sincerity that made his smile widen. "More than I thought I would." The admission was shy, sweet. A genuine acknowledgment of the bond growing between you both not just magically but emotionally.
His eyes lit up with a mixture of relief and happiness. The atmosphere around you charged with a gentle, joyful energy. The training session resumed but now there was a lightness to your movements. A reflection of the ease settling in your heart. The conversation with Rhysand, though brief, lingered in your mind like a cherished melody. It was a powerful reminder of the new beginnings and genuine connections now possible in your life with Rhysand and the Night Court. A life that was slowly but surely becoming your own.
As you navigated through each day your confidence grew and the tapestry of your new life in Velaris began to weave itself more vividly. Each encounter, each lesson with Rhysand, and every quiet moment spent under the stars of the Night Court fortified your sense of belonging. These experiences were threads in a vibrant, ever-expanding fabric, each one adding strength and color to your life.
One evening as you stood beside Rhysand on the quiet sanctuary of your favorite balcony overlooking Velaris, you felt a calm certainty settle over you. Below, the city sparkled. A tapestry of light and life that seemed to pulse with the same vibrant energy that now flowed through your veins. Rhysand's gaze was fixed on the horizon, the soft glow of the city lights casting shadows across his strong features when you turned to him ready to voice the thoughts that had been crystallizing in your mind.
"You know," you began. Your voice steady and clear, "I've spent a lot of time thinking about what all of this means. The mating bond, this new life, everything."
Rhysand turned to you with his expression open and attentive. The bond between you hummed softly. It was a growing and comforting presence at the back of your mind.
"I've realized that this bond... it's not just a tie to you. It's a connection to myself. To a life I didn't think was possible," you continued. The words flowing more freely than you expected. "I accept it, Rhysand. Not just accept it… I'm grateful for it. For you."
A slow smile spread across Rhysand's face. That beautiful smile you were slowly coming to cherish. "I can't tell you what it means to hear you say that," he said as his voice was thick with emotion. "You've become a part of this world. A part of my world in a way I always hoped but never dared to expect."
Encouraged by your acceptance and the growth you had shown Rhys felt that the time was right for a significant next step. As the days progressed and you continued to integrate more deeply into the fabric of the Night Court he planned an upcoming evening that would mark a new chapter in your life. The occasion was chosen with care. Not rushed but timed perfectly to coincide with your readiness to meet new faces and embrace the wider community of the Night Court. It was a testament to your journey thus far and a celebration of the future you were building together.
With the day finally set, a gentle breeze whispering promises through the halls, the stars above Velaris began to unveil themselves in the twilight sky. The air was charged with a sense of anticipation. Rhysand who was usually the epitome of composure carried a subtle excitement mixed with nerves as he prepared to introduce you to Cassian, Azriel, and the rest of the Inner Circle. This evening was not just another night. It was a milestone, a true celebration of your integration into his world and the bonds you would soon form with those closest to him.
You had spent the afternoon with Feyre who had helped you select a gown for the evening. The dress was a deep shade of midnight blue and adorned with silver threads that mimicked the starlit sky of Velaris. It perfectly embodied the essence of the Night Court. As you descended the grand staircase the gown flowed around you like a night shadow brought to life.
At the base of the steps Rhysand waited. His usual composure shaken as he caught sight of you. The world seemed to pause, his breath caught in his throat, his heart raced rapidly. There, in the soft glow of the House of Wind you looked not just a part of the Night Court but as if you were its very spirit. The realization that you were his mate, utterly beautiful and resplendent in the regalia of his court, struck him with renewed force.
Rhysand who was ever mindful of the boundaries and comfort of those around him had been particularly cautious about not overwhelming you with the intimate connection that mind-speaking entails. Despite this, the sight of you this evening descending the grand staircase dressed for the event was simply too much for him to resist. The gown you wore reflected the starlit sky of Velaris and accentuated your presence. It made you seem as ethereal as the city itself. Overcome with admiration, he reached out with his mind. "You look breathtaking, darling," his voice echoed in your thoughts for the first time in a while, startling you slightly with its warmth and closeness.
The mental whisper drew a surprised laugh from you. A sound that delighted him to no end. Rhysand's smile broadened. His eyes twinkling with mischief as he observed your reaction. "I see we still need to work on your shields, won't we?" he added playfully. His tone warm and teasing. It was moments like these he cherished deeply. Ones that always kept you on your toes. A trait you’d come to love about him.
Blushing slightly at the intimacy of his mental caress you couldn't help but respond in kind. Your newfound boldness surprising even yourself. "Perhaps I left them down on purpose Rhysand," you flirted back. Your mental voice a soft murmur that only he could hear.
Rhysand’s eyebrows shot up in amused surprise. A rich laugh escaping him that resonated deeply in the space around you. "Is that so? Well, in that case, I might have to keep complimenting you just to see what else you intentionally leave unguarded," he teased back, the affection in his voice unmistakable.
His impulsive act, born from a burst of admiration, turned into a playful exchange that highlighted the growing ease and affection between you. Rhysand quickly added sensing your enjoyment yet still cautious of overstepping, "Apologies if that was too much, but seeing you tonight, I couldn't help myself."
This flirty banter, interwoven with moments of laughter and shared glances, underscored the deepening connection between you both. Even as Rhys continued to respect your boundaries. He also found joy in these light-hearted exchanges, each one building upon the last. You couldn't help but smile, feeling a mix of amusement and warmth from his words. This gentle mental whisper was another sign of how your relationship with Rhysand was deepening, weaving together both profound moments and light-hearted banter.
As you reached the bottom of the stairs Rhysand gently took your hand helping you to navigate the last step. His presence was comforting and his proximity a reminder of how much had changed between you. The grandeur of the staircase faded into the background as you focused solely on him.
You couldn't help the smile that danced across your lips, nor the lightness in your heart from his words. "No need to apologize, Rhys," you responded. Your voice a blend of amusement and reassurance. "I quite liked it. It's... nice, hearing your thoughts sometimes."
"We’ll make quite the team, you and I," Rhysand said, his voice now audible. A soft yet clear tone that carried through the grand space. "With or without your shields up, darling."
The playful banter that had begun in the privacy of your minds seamlessly flowed into the verbal exchange adding layers to your communication and highlighting the ease and comfort developing between you both. As you looked up into his eyes, still sparkling with that same affectionate mischief, you felt that profound connection. The bond was not just magical but deeply personal, spanning the quiet thoughts shared in whispers and the words spoken in the open.
This moment, under the soft lights and the eyes of the Night Court, solidified something essential between you and Rhysand. A partnership built on mutual respect, affection, and a delightful undercurrent of flirtation that promised many more such exchanges in the days to come.
Rhysand led you through the lush, starlit gardens of the Night Court where Cassian, Azriel, and others from the Inner Circle awaited. As you approached the atmosphere was charged with an understated anticipation. Both Cassian and Azriel rose to greet you both their expressions blending curiosity and respect.
Cassian's greeting was robust yet heartfelt. "Rhys didn't prepare us for someone quite so captivating," he remarked with a friendly nod. His tone genuine and devoid of any overstatement. His smile was infectious. He quickly added in a more casual tone, "And I hear you're as quick-witted as you are graceful. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
Azriel who Rhys described as more reserved offered a calm nod. His deep-set eyes thoughtful as he assessed you with a discerning gaze. "Welcome to the Night Court," he said. His voice soft yet carrying a warmth that invited trust. During the evening as you engaged in a discussion about the strategic intricacies of the court’s defenses Azriel's respect visibly deepened. Later, he quietly shared with Rhysand, "She has a keen sense for the nuances of strategy. You've chosen well. She’s not just impressive in demeanor but in intellect."
Throughout the evening laughter and substantive conversations filled the garden. Cassian's heartier chuckles complemented your more measured humor. While Azriel engaged you with discussions that tested your insight into the court’s history and its future.
Rhysand watched these exchanges with a sense of deep satisfaction. The way you engaged with his friends. Not just with politeness but with a genuine interest and understanding solidified your place among them. Cassian’s easy camaraderie and Azriel’s quiet approval spoke volumes of their acceptance.
As the night progressed under the expansive, star-filled sky of Velaris your initial sense of being an outsider slowly dissipated. You found yourself woven into the evening’s tapestry as seamlessly as the shadows melded into the night. Each shared story, each moment of laughter, helped stitch you further into the fabric of this vibrant community.
Standing there among new friends you experienced yet another profound shift within. With Rhysand at your side and the bond between you growing stronger by the day you realized you had discovered much more than a haven. You had found a new family, a purpose, and a place where you truly belonged. The night ended not just with a feeling of contentment but with a renewed sense of anticipation for the future.
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Can you do a yandere class 1a x reader if that's ok? (If u don't that's fine!)
YOU DO NOT HAVE TO TELL ME TWICE I LOVE YANDERE CLASS 1-A
SORRY IF I DRAGGED THIS ALONG TOO LONG I HAD SO MANY DIFFERENT IDEAS AND THOUGHTS GOING DOR THIS😭 IDK IF YOU WANTED HEADCANNONS OR LIKE A LITTLE STORY SO I SORTA DID BOTH?? IDK
this sucks so bad im so disappointed what is this everything was so random and pulled out of my ass
okaokay SO LET ME COOK—
i feel like when you first start going to UA you'd be a new student, maybe a little after the usj attack? and the moment you walk in you have EVERYONE'S eyes on you, you looked so sweet and small compared to the rest of them!
so when you walk up to the front of the class to introduce yourself, nobody dares to interrupt you🗣
"my name is Y/N L/N! please take care of me!" you bow, giving them a closed eye smile.
izuku is the first one to run up and talk to you, questioning everything about you. "whats your quirk?! how does it work? why are you coming now for school??—" it goes on and on until he hears, and swears the most angelic thing ever, your laugh.
he feels like the world stopped hearing your laugh, it was so beautiful, just like you! but now you did that, he becomes a stuttering mess, all thoughts leaving his pretty head. he'd do anything to hear that beautiful laugh over and over again but only because of him!
"im glad you asked! my quirk is kinda confusing.. i dont really know much about it but its what i call purple magic! i can basically do anything, i can move things with my mind including people, and kinda like telekinesis but it adds a purple tint surrounding the object!"
everyone was listening to your explanation, two certain boys were listening closely, wondering the possibilities your quirk could have.
"EEEK!! YOUR SO PRECIOUS!" mina was already obsessed with the way you looked, and you were the absolute cutest! she just wanted to lock you up and take you away from the world and have you all to herself!
a few days went by and you had already became friends with just about everyone in the class, atleast everyone except mineta, todoroki, and bakugou. you made it yoyr mission to make todoroki and bakugou your friends, no matter the cost!
you and sato would do weekly baking contests, (he always let you win and messed up on purpose) and he would ve so proud of your amazing deserts! when the two of you weren't baking, you'd be in your room playing video games with eachother or studying! either way, he was just happy to be with you.
koda would always call for your favorite animals in an open park nearby UA, and the two of you would have mini picnics together! with your favorite animals, koda and you would make a big animal pile and cuddle with all of them! bunnies, squirrels, birds, all sorts of local animals would be surrounding the two of you while you two sat close to eachother, sharing sweet treats with one another. (and the stealing of bread by birds..)
whenever it got too cold outside, shouji would wrap his arms around you and act like a personal blanket for you! you two would lay on the grass watching the stars together and he would wrap his arms around you ro keep you warm. whenever you'd fall asleep he'd carry you back towards his home, which ended up with the occasional sleepovers, he was so happy you felt safe enough to sleep near him! even if it wasn't on purpose` he put sleeping pills in the food you ate earlier just for this
tokoyami and you would always hang out training, you learning to control your emotions so people dont start flying, and him trying to control dark shadow. both tokoyami and dark shadow took a liking to you, and they grew to always want to be near you. you just were so happy and cheerful all the time, they couldnt help it! maybe one day they will always be near you, he could lock you inside his home and you'll be together forever, with no one there to stop him!
you and the 6 girls of the class would also have weekly sleepovers, spa days, or just any time they could find to be with you! whenever mineta would try and bother you, uraraka would just make him float away so he wouldn't anymore! the next day, mineta came to class with his face purple, almost like his hair..
out of everyone in the class, you and uraraka got along the best since you both had similar quirks! the two of you talked to eachother about eachothers drawbacks, and decided to train together sometime so you could both get stronger together! of course this didnt go unnoticed by the rest of the class, them all becoming extremely jealous of uraraka.
bakugou, one of the boys you wanted to become friends with, came up to you one day. the rest of the class was scared of what he would do or say to you, but instead he left you, a note?
ᴛᴇxᴛ ᴍᴇ, xxxx-xxx-xxx. ɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴡᴀɪᴛɪɴɢ.
he wants to talk to you?! you know you should be feeling happy, but you cant help but be nervous. he was by far, the cutest boy in the school, nobody could deny that. this is your chance! your chance to finally be his friend!!
after school that day you went straight to texting him, and the two of you had a nice conversation about eachothers day, and getting to know eachother. the next day you two came in side by side, talking to eachother like it was only the two of you in the world.
everyone else was furious, why was katsuki fucking bakugou stealing their girl away?! doesn't he know your theirs? god, izuku was so pissed he could've absolutely destroyed his childhood "friend" right then and there. everyone else was just standing there in shock, not knowing what to do. bakugou would simply snap at them if they dare steal his moment with his beautiful girl. they should know better then to do that.
izuku came up to the two of you, hoping to steal you away for a little from the explosive man.
"h-hey Y/N! would you mind answering some questions for me to jot down in my notebook? i really wanna know more about your quirk!"
of course you wouldn't turn down a chance to help your dear friend izuku, so you went with him, leaving bakugou clenching his fists in defeat. maybe one day you'd see how much better he was then izuku, but for now he would wait, he needs to wait. he cant go scaring off his teddy bear can he now?
while answering questions from izuku, none other then shoto todoroki was staring straight into your soul. it was creepy, but he couldn't help himself! you were just too pretty to not look at! he didn't get enough time to look at you last night through your window, you closed your blinds on him and he decided it would be too far to sneak in to your bedroom.
after talking with izuku, you went back to your seat, which happened to be right behind todoroki.
when you sat down, todoroki was already staring right at you, turned around from the front of the classroom. he would have tried talking to you earlier, but everyone was already surronding you like rabid dogs, so he had chosen to watch from afar. atleast until now.
"seems like you got a lot of friends, L/N." this made you laugh, he was always so professional, and severely up tight.
"no need to call me by my last name, please, call me Y/N! and yea, i guess i have.. would you like to be my friend too?"
"sure, Y/N." and with that, he turned back around, smiling at the small yet sweet interaction he had with you. of course while doing so, he got many glares from the rest of the class, clearly jealous he got to talk to you even if it was for a short while.
you of course have no idea about the secret war between your class, they'd all go at eachothers heads just to get your attention, or better, to make you smile. atleast you've successfully gained 19 new obsessed friends?
⋆｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ✩°｡⋆
okay i think this was shit but lmk!! hope you liked it :)
#yandere bakugo katsuki#yandere class 1a x reader#yandere bnha#yandere izuku x reader#bhna x reader#yandere bakusquad#yandere x reader#yandere shoto todoroki#yandere#yandere deku x reader#yandere izuku midoriya
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TULIPS (Chapter Three)
FEATURING Eris Vanserra x pregnant!reader
SUMMARY dinner with the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court was going well- if not better- than you expected... until it wasn't.
CONTENT WARNINGS fluff, cuteness, pregnancy, mentions of foot massages, rushed editing (you have been warned)
AUTHORS NOTE this was as adorable to write as it was to read, hope you all enjoy!
SERIES MASTERLIST
As the weeks transformed into a comfortable cadence of companionship, Eris's presence evolved from a persistent irritation to a source of solace and warmth. Each night, he would accompany you on leisurely strolls through the Autumn Court's sprawling gardens, engaging in deep conversations that ranged from trivial to profound. Initially resistant, your defenses gradually crumbled under the weight of his genuine interest and the gentle tenor of his voice. Eris, once a distant figure, had seamlessly become both a confidant and a friend. The awkwardness that had once marked your interactions gave way to an easeful rapport, characterized by shared laughs, quiet moments, and even intertwined arms as you walked together.
Despite your initial fears, keeping both you and your pregnancy hidden from Beron proved less daunting than anticipated. The castle staff, having grown fond of your presence and Eris's protective stance, covertly supported you, ready to accept Beron's wrath should the need arise. The life blossoming within you stirred more vigorously with each passing day, its movements transforming from uncertain flutters to joyous, definitive kicks—a constant, cherished reminder of the new life you were nurturing.
Lately, however, the joys of pregnancy have been tempered by its tolls: swelling and a pervasive fatigue that some days tethered you to your bed. Adapting to your needs, Eris crafted a new routine. Each morning, he would cross the short distance from his room to yours, coax you from the sanctuary of your bed to the plush couch near the fireplace, and spend a few moments ensuring both you and the baby were well before attending to his duties.
Now, you were nestled comfortably on the couch, wrapped in a thick blanket against the autumn chill, while Eris attended to your swollen feet. His fingers, long and defined, pressed into your arches with a precision that coaxed sighs of relief from your lips. You massaged your growing belly, lost in the tranquility that only this quiet room, with its crackling fireplace and the soothing touch of a man you had grown to trust implicitly, could offer.
Breaking the silence, Eris's voice was soft, yet carried an undercurrent of something significant. "I have a meeting tomorrow," he murmured, his fingers shifting to your ankles, easing the persistent ache with gentle, circular motions. You hummed in acknowledgment, the peace of the moment making it easy to listen.
"I'd like you to come with me," he added, his suggestion prompting you to open your eyes and sit up, tension threading through your previously relaxed posture.
"Eris, I’m not sure that’s—" you began, only to be cut off as he expertly pressed into a tight spot on your foot, drawing a sharp, involuntary focus back to the physical relief.
"I know you are hesitant to go out, but I promise, no one will learn of your condition. You and the baby will be safe—I swear it," he assured you, his gaze intense and earnest.
"And who exactly are we meeting?" you asked, curiosity piqued despite your initial reservations.
"The High Lord and Lady of the Night Court," he replied smoothly, watching for any shift in your expression. He was aware of your past efforts in the Spring Court, though he remained blissfully unaware of that one fateful night with Lucien—a detail you continued to keep close to your heart more so out of fear than true, deep love.
Eris's next words came hesitantly, a rare vulnerability shadowing his usually confident demeanor. "There's something I need to share with you, something dangerous enough to threaten my life if it were spoken here. Until now, I’ve trusted no one with this knowledge, but I want—no, I need you to know."
The notion that Eris Vanserra, the heir to the ruthlessly pragmatic Autumn throne, could exhibit such bashfulness, such sincere openness, would have once seemed ludicrous. Yet, here in this quiet room, witnessing the softening of a man known for his sharp wit and sharper politics, you realized how deeply intertwined your lives had become. The trust he offered wasn't just a gift; it was a sacred bond, one that you now held as precious and vital, as he undoubtedly did.
Your decision to accompany Eris to the meeting was not made lightly. While the prospect of venturing out with him was enticing, the shadow of Lucien's potential presence loomed ominously in your mind. You couldn't shake the fear that he might discern the truth—that he might catch a hint of his child lingering on you—and unravel the fragile web of secrecy you had painstakingly woven.
"I'll go with you," you finally responded, forcing a soft smile to grace your lips, though your heart fluttered nervously in your chest. Eris's grin widened in response, a radiant expression that never failed to warm your heart. It was a sight you had grown to cherish—the genuine happiness that danced in his eyes whenever you agreed to accompany him.
Upon entering the House of Wind, the grandeur of the Night Court's architecture took your breath away. As you traversed the expansive hall, your eyes were drawn upward to the soaring ceilings, where the natural rock formations blended seamlessly with masterful stone carvings. The room was a symphony of art and nature, each element curated to showcase the might and elegance of the Night Court.
The House of Wind was perched atop one of the tallest mountains overlooking Velaris, the city of starlight. Its location offered a panoramic view of the sprawling city below, its lights twinkling like stars in the dusky evening sky. The ethereal quality of the place lent an almost surreal atmosphere to the meeting, the high altitude isolating it from the bustle of daily life and imbuing the gathering with a sense of detached serenity.
As Eris had insisted, the change of venue to Velaris instead of the grittier Hewn City was a strategic one, especially with your presence. Hewn City, with its darker undertones and the unscrupulous characters it often harbored, was not the environment Eris wanted to expose you to, particularly not in your condition. His protective instinct had flared, not just out of a sense of duty but something more personal, a deep-seated desire to shield you from any potential harm or distress.
Rhysand and Feyre, though initially surprised by the request to relocate, were accommodating. They understood the delicacies of political alliances and personal comforts, especially when it came to gatherings that might sway the balance of power in Prythian. Their acceptance of the change also spoke volumes of their respect for Eris's growing influence and his priorities, which now, intriguingly, seemed to include you.
Upon your arrival, you were greeted warmly by the High Lord and Lady. Feyre's smile was both welcoming and perceptive, her artist's eyes quickly taking in your slightly nervous demeanor. Rhysand's greeting was cordial yet measured, his legendary strategic mind likely already pondering the implications of Eris's sudden protectiveness over you.
The Inner Circle of the Night Court, comprising individuals of notable power and close personal ties to Rhysand and Feyre, were also present. Their curious glances were tinged with an unspoken question, their minds likely whirling with the possibilities of your relationship with Eris and what it meant for the political landscape.
Once dinner commenced, the conversation flowed like the fine wines served—rich, layered, and occasionally sharp. Topics ranged from trivial court gossip to the weightier issues of territorial disputes and trade alliances. Through it all, Eris spoke with an eloquence and assertiveness that reaffirmed his position not just as a scion of the Autumn Court, but as a player on the larger political stage.
The atmosphere in the grand hall of the House of Wind grew increasingly warm and congenial as dinner continued. It was a sharp contrast to the initial wariness that had marked the beginning of the evening. You found yourself slowly relaxing, the initial tension that had gripped you upon your arrival gradually easing as the hours passed.
Seated next to Eris, you were acutely aware of his constant vigilance. His gaze frequently swept the room, subtle but protective, always returning to rest on you with an unspoken reassurance. His hand, discreetly placed near yours on the table, was a silent promise of support. It was a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by you, and it warmed a part of your heart reserved only for moments of true connection.
Across from you, Cassian—the General of the Night Court’s armies and the so-called Lord of Bloodshed—was proving to be nothing like the fearsome figure painted in the tales whispered across Prythian. His reputation as a fierce warrior was well-known, and yet, here he was, displaying a charisma and warmth that belied his formidable title. His questions were thoughtful and his laughter genuine, filling the space around him with an infectious joy that seemed to brighten the entire room.
Cassian’s interest in your thoughts on matters ranging from art to strategy was flattering. It was clear he valued intellect and insight, regardless of one’s position or power. His ability to make you feel seen and heard was a rare skill, and you found yourself engaging in the discussion with an eagerness that surprised even you.
The conversation flowed effortlessly as you spoke of your past experiences, carefully curating the details to avoid revealing too much about your true connections and current predicament. Cassian listened intently, nodding thoughtfully and occasionally interjecting with a question that nudged you deeper into the topic. His engagement was so complete and so devoid of judgment that you felt a genuine sense of safety—an odd feeling considering the circumstances under which you had arrived at the Night Court.
The discussion took a lighter turn as Cassian shared anecdotes from his own adventures. The tales were filled with humor and humility, showcasing his dedication to his people and his unshakeable honor. The contrast between the man before you and the stories told of him in hushed, wary tones across the land was stark. Here was a man who fought fiercely but loved deeply, whose strength was matched only by his compassion.
The wine and warmth of the room seemed to weave a spell of camaraderie among all present as the night wore on. You found yourself laughing more freely than you had in a long time, the sound mingling with the gentle music that floated through the air. Eris’s occasional glances filled with quiet amusement and pride as he watched you interact with his allies, and you realized how important this evening was—not just for political alliances but for personal revelations.
The connection you felt to these people, forged unexpectedly through shared smiles and stories, reminded you of the complexities of life in Prythian. Here, alliances were not just built on power but on the subtle threads of mutual respect and understanding—threads that, once woven, could form a tapestry strong enough to stand against the darkest of times.
“So, your plans are set then?” Rhysand’s voice cut through the chatter, his gaze on Eris poised with a strategic restraint as he sat close beside Feyre, their fingers intertwined under the table in a display of unity and affection.
“They are indeed. My father’s reign will end before the year is out,” Eris replied with diplomatic precision, his fingers subtly tightening around yours under the table, offering a silent reassurance as you chatted with Cassian and Mor, who had now joined your group.
“Do you still train?” Cassian continued the earlier conversation about combat training. You were known as a formidable warrior who had bravely fought in the war against Hybern, emerging with only a few scars to tell the tale.
“No, though I do miss it dearly,” you answered with a wistful smile, recalling the days spent wielding a sword and teaching yourself survival tactics against imminent threats.
“Why did you stop?” Mor inquired, her gaze sweeping over you as if searching for a physical reason for your hiatus from training.
“I’ve been busy adjusting to life in the Autumn Court, and while I hope to resume training soon, it seems unlikely until I'm more familiar with the intricacies of this new environment,” you said smoothly, concealing the truth of your pregnancy with an ease that belied the ache in your heart from withholding such vital information from these potential allies. “I wouldn’t want to accidentally behead someone,” you joked, lightening the mood and drawing hearty laughter from Cassian.
“Well,” Cassian began, wiping away tears of mirth, “if you ever need any tips or want to spar, you’re always welcome to join me here. It would be good to have a fresh sparring partner.”
Mor's laughter rang clear and bright alongside Cassian's, their camaraderie infectious, filling the air with a sense of light-heartedness that briefly lifted the weight of your secret. The offer from Cassian, so freely given, was a testament to the Night Court's reputation for valuing strength and skill regardless of court affiliations. It was tempting, the idea of swinging a sword again, feeling the familiar weight in your hands, the rush of adrenaline that came with the dance of combat—a dance you missed dearly.
"I might just take you up on that, Cassian," you responded, your voice lighter than you felt. "It would be good to shake off the rust."
"Consider it an open invitation," Cassian replied with a grin that was both mischievous and welcoming.
Beside you, Eris shifted slightly, his attention momentarily flickering back to you from his strategic discussion with Rhysand and Feyre. His hand tightened around yours, a gesture that you knew was not only for reassurance but also a silent reminder of the stakes at play tonight. His plans, so boldly stated, were a gambit that could change the face of the Autumn Court, and by extension, the delicate balance of power throughout Prythian.
Rhysand’s gaze, sharp and calculating, moved from Eris to you, sensing the undercurrents of your conversation. He was a leader known for his insight, and you wondered briefly what he saw when he looked your way. Did he detect the nuances of your situation, the unspoken truths that lay beneath your carefully constructed facade?
"As long as Eris doesn’t mind sharing some of Autumn’s finest warriors with us," Rhysand added with a subtle smirk, easing the tension that had started to coil beneath the surface of the conversation.
"Only if you don’t mind returning them in one piece," Eris quipped, his tone light but his eyes scanning Rhysand for any sign of true political intent beneath the banter.
Feyre, ever the observant High Lady, interjected with a grace that smoothed the edges of the strategic dance unfolding at the table. "I think we can all agree that sharing knowledge and skills can only strengthen our courts," she said, her voice a soothing melody that seemed to weave peace into the words themselves.
Her comment steered the conversation towards safer waters, and you felt a silent gratitude for her intervention. The night continued, with discussions ebbing and flowing from politics to personal anecdotes, each moment carefully layered with both overt and hidden meanings.
As the dinner neared its end, you felt the first definitive kick from within—a startling, wondrous sensation that drew a gasp from your lips, momentarily drawing the attention of those around you, including Eris, whose concern was immediate.
"Are you alright?" Eris asked quietly, leaning closer to mask the conversation from curious ears.
"Just a bit of discomfort," you whispered back, offering him a reassuring smile to alleviate his worry. The moment was fleeting but significant, a poignant reminder of the life you carried—a secret that bound you to Lucien yet remained hidden even from him.
You composed yourself, returning to the conversations with a calm demeanor, the reality of your situation settled heavily upon you. The ties you were forging here, under the guise of mere political alliances, were becoming more personal, more vital. The truth of your child’s paternity lingered like a shadow; one you knew would eventually come to light.
The sudden silence that fell over the grand dining hall was palpable, a stark contrast to the lively banter that had filled the air just moments before. Cassian's knife hitting the floor seemed to echo through the chamber, an unintentional signal that caused every pair of eyes to swivel toward you, expressions filled with surprise and curiosity. The subtle yet unmistakable scent of pregnancy had wafted through the air, a fragrance familiar to those attuned to the nuances of fae biology.
Beside you, Eris's body tensed, his grip on your hand tightening imperceptibly. His quick, calculating eyes darted around the table, assessing each reaction with a practiced eye, before settling back on you with a look that was both protective and probing. He was searching for cues on how to proceed, his usual confidence momentarily overshadowed by the unforeseen revelation.
Your own heart thudded loudly in your chest, the sound almost echoing in your ears as you navigated through the rapid thoughts and fears crowding your mind. The intimacy and warmth of the room felt suddenly claustrophobic, the walls closing in as you contemplated the implications of your condition becoming public knowledge here, among potential allies and friends.
Rhysand, always the leader, was the first to address the sudden shift in atmosphere. His voice was calm and collected, though you could detect the undercurrent of authority that underpinned his position as High Lord. "Is there something you wish to share with us?" he asked, his eyes locking with yours, a mixture of intrigue and concern lining his features.
Feyre, ever the empath and peacemaker, extended her hand across the table toward you, her gesture one of solidarity and reassurance. "Whatever it is, you're among friends," she said gently, her voice a soothing balm in the tense silence. Her assurance was meant to comfort, to remind you of the support system that surrounded you in this room.
The deafening echo of fear reverberated through your ears, a raw, unfiltered panic seizing hold of you. Lucien's intricate connections to each person in the room flashed before your mind's eye, a stark reminder of the delicate web of alliances and loyalties that surrounded you. Though they might assume Eris to be the father of your child, the mere possibility of your momentary lapse in concentration betraying the truth sent a chill down your spine, tightening every muscle in your body with apprehension.
With a gentle lean and a deep, calming breath, Eris closed the distance between you, his warm breath brushing against your ear as he spoke softly, his words meant for your ears alone. "We can handle this together," he whispered, the warmth of his touch a silent pledge of unwavering unity and support. In that moment, his commitment shone through, steadfast and resolute, a beacon of strength amidst the tumultuous currents of political intrigue and personal turmoil.
You took a deep breath, buoyed by Eris's support and the encouraging faces around you, and found the courage to speak. "Yes, I… I'm expecting," you announced, the words coming out in a rush, laden with both fear and relief. The table responded in a variety of ways.
Cassian, the warrior with a reputation as fierce as his loyalty, recovered from his initial surprise with a broad grin spreading across his rugged features. "Well, that’s cause for celebration, isn’t it?" he declared, his booming voice breaking the tension, his demeanor shifting the mood towards one of festivity rather than scandal.
Mor, radiant and ever joyful, clapped her hands softly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears of happiness. "Oh, that's wonderful news!" she exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious as she mirrored Cassian's sentiment.
The unwavering support of your new friends had the rest of the table exhaling deeply, the tension dissipating like morning mist under the first light of dawn. It was as if a collective sigh of relief swept through the grand dining hall, washing away the discomfort that had momentarily lingered in the air.
“You must be thrilled, Eris, I had no idea you were with a female, let alone close enough to start a family, an oversight on my part,” Rhysand's comment, though perhaps inadvertently brusque, was met with a swift reprimand from Feyre, her scolding glare a silent reminder of the importance of diplomacy and tact. Her subsequent words, however, carried a genuine warmth and sincerity, a testament to her graciousness and desire to foster unity among the courts.
"I believe what Rhysand meant to say," Feyre interjected smoothly, her voice gentle but firm, "is that we are genuinely happy for both of you. Congratulations are in order, and we look forward to the potential alliances that may blossom between our courts. You have found a remarkable partner, Eris, and we are honored to welcome her into our midst."
Her smile was radiant, a beacon of acceptance and friendship that illuminated the table, and you found yourself returning it with a mixture of gratitude and trepidation. The queasy churn in your stomach persisted, a reminder of the weight of the secrets still hidden, but Feyre's genuine warmth and the friendly wink she directed your way offered a glimmer of reassurance.
“Thank you,” Eris's response was measured and regal, his acknowledgment of their well-wishes tinged with a silent understanding of the delicate dance they were all engaged in.
As he pressed a tender kiss to your intertwined hands, a silent reassurance of his unwavering support, you felt a swell of affection and gratitude for the man beside you. His steadfast presence, a pillar of strength in a sea of uncertainty, was a source of comfort and reassurance amid the swirling currents of political intrigue.
With a steady voice, you echoed Feyre's sentiment, expressing your gratitude for the warm welcome extended to you both. The queasiness in your stomach persisted, a lingering reminder of the secrets still hidden beneath the surface, but the genuine warmth in Feyre's smile and the camaraderie that permeated the room filled you with a sense of cautious optimism.
"I hope to be great friends one day, Lady Feyre," you said earnestly, meeting her gaze with sincerity. The prospect of forging genuine connections with these influential figures was both daunting and exhilarating, offering the promise of camaraderie and support in a world fraught with political intrigue and danger.
As the dinner resumed, the mood lightened further, the conversation flowing freely as newfound bonds were forged over shared laughter and stories. The weight of the secrets you carried remained, a silent undercurrent beneath the surface of the evening's festivities, but for now, in the warmth of acceptance and friendship, you allowed yourself to savor the moment, cherishing the unexpected connections that had been forged in the crucible of uncertainty.
TAGLIST
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Laugh
Please don’t ever become a stranger whose laugh I would recognise anywhere
The city lights reflect on the Danube river on this mild summer evening. The whole city is outside, at least it feels like it. Restaurants and bars and cafes have all put their chairs and tables outside. Schanigarten, the Viennese call it. A delightfully chaotic yet orderly habit of using public land for the enjoyment of everyone.
Sherlock should sleep. But the city is so lovely, and the night is so mild. For once, he’s not being chased, or shot at, or hunted. He’s waiting, for new papers, for a new identity, and Vienna in June is a good place to wait.
The wind smells like hope and a river in a city. It reminds Sherlock of London. The Danube is a different beast altogether, of course, the great stream meandering through most of middle and eastern Europe before making its way into the Black Sea. It’s been a recurring companion, in Romania, in Germany, in Hungary. Here, in Vienna, he feels like it’s greeting him like an old friend.
He’s walking through the inner city, just enjoying the anonymity of the masses, tourists, mainly, but many locals as well, having a beer or a glass of wine outside after a long work day. It smells vaguely of frying fat and horse manure. It reminds him of London again, of walking down Whitehall past the horse guards.
Soon. He can go home soon. One last job. Mycroft promised.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, he feels like some invisible hand has reached into his chest and is piercing his heart.
That laugh…
It can’t be.
He steps into a doorway and looks around, tries to isolate the sound.
He’s not here. You’re kidding yourself. You were thinking of him. Of home.
There. In the Schanigarten across the street. A group of British tourists. A man laughs. He looks nothing like John. But his laugh…
For just a second, Sherlock thought…
Hoped…
What he wouldn’t give for once glance. Just a tiny glance. Just a second, to know John is all right.
He closes his eyes and imagines. What it would be like, if this man over there, who looks nothing like John but has his laugh, was actually John. And he knows, he knows, it’s actually better that it’s not John, because Sherlock wouldn’t be satisfied with one glance.
What if this was truly John? Would he wait in the shadows, watching? Would he follow John home through the dark alleys and cobbled streets of this lovely city? Would he finally step out of the shadows, just as John is ready to go into his hotel?
Would he grab John’s wrist, pull him into a shadowy courtyard? Would John try to yell, just to recognise Sherlock as Sherlock puts his hand over his mouth to stifle the scream? Would John look at him in shock, wide-eyed with wonder?
Would Sherlock then replace the hand with his mouth, press their lips together, taste John’s fiery anger, his sweet relief, his voice, whispering, “Sherlock…”?
Would John take Sherlock back to his room? Would they not talk all night, just for the dawn to come and for Sherlock to leave with one last, lingering kiss to remind them both that this wasn’t a fever dream, but real, and precious? Would he promise to come back, would John promise to wait?
Sherlock pounds his fist against the wall to remind himself where he is. Who he is. Why he can’t lose himself in a stupid, childish fantasy.
He has a job to do. A job he needs to finish before he can indulge in even thinking about what a possible after would look like. A job that needs to be done so John can be safe.
He doesn’t want you that way anyway…
But maybe… maybe when I come back…
Stop it. You have a job to do. You can’t afford the distraction.
Tomorrow, he will travel to Belgrade, where the Danube will greet him on the last leg of his journey. He’ll finish his job, and then, he can go home.
Then, maybe…
Tomorrow, he moves on.
Tonight, he listens to a stranger’s laugh that sounds so much like home, and he allows himself to dream.
-----
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My Echo, My Shadow and Me (Part 3)
Summary: Hancock and I retire to The Third Rail after a long day to find that it’s particularly busy. Still, we manage to find a quiet spot to indulge in heavy flirting, booze and chems. However, I notice a shadowy figure across the room - somehow, neither Hancock or I recognise the stranger (another ghoul). Hancock is keen to introduce himself but the sheer amount of intoxicants we’ve consumed could have the potential to lead to a very interesting evening.
Pairings: Hancock x Female OC/Reader, Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x Female OC/Reader
Warnings: Heavy alcohol/drug use, public groping, smut, MMF threesome, anal.
(Part 1 here)
(Part 2 here)
Part 3
We sit together for a few hours - sharing the rest of the bottle over some casual small talk. Although, Hancock and I find ourselves to be alone in our willingness to share any more intimate details about ourselves. Every so often, the man interjects with a touch of sarcasm or a witty remark - it is abundantly clear that he is a man who embodies both wisdom and a penchant for seclusion. Unmistakably, the enigmatic ghoul is equally inebriated like us, yet his placidity under the influence sets him apart.
My companion and I have a similar approach to handling our problems - making light of them and getting shitfaced drunk - but this man seems to sit with his pain, holding on to it close. He doesn't open up about it one bit, yet I can feel the weight of heartbreak behind his eyes.
He listens and learns - displaying occasional moments of amusement when his furrowed brow loosens into a sarcastic smirk, which is the closest he gets to a genuine smile. It's possible that he's starting to warm up to us a little in his intoxicated state but - just as we all seem to be getting along to some extent - every light inside The Third Rail flickers to life with a buzz. The sudden brightness startles all three of us in our seats, and I observe both men squinting and shielding their eyes.
“C’mon you dirty buggers - off with you now!” The reverberations of Charlie's robotic voice against the concrete walls prompt me to realize that we are the only patrons left in the bar. I also scrunch my eyes closed and usher Hancock to his feet, eager to escape the searing glare of white light.
He haphazardly tosses a cluster of caps onto the table and then pivots to face our new friend.
“You coming?”
The ghoul shakes his head in disbelief and swills back the final dregs directly from the whiskey bottle. In a rather awkward and uncoordinated manner, he braces his weight on his knees with his palms to provide some stability as he battles to stand upright.
“I guess I don’t see why the hell not. Not like I got anything better to do right now.”
********
It doesn’t take long to get back to Hancock’s private study and upon arrival, I am thankful for several things. Besides a solitary, faint lightbulb - the room is predominantly illuminated by candles that have been recently lit to last for hours. The only other light emanates from a makeshift fireplace situated right next to where we are seated.
As a result, the room is toasty with a comfortable warmth. The historic Old State Building, which Hancock has made his home, still stands steadfast after all these years so, despite the persistent howling of the wind outside, we are safe from its reach.
What’s more - there is a plethora of alcohol and chems scattered in abundance on the table, conveniently within easy reach. I opt to pick up some Grape Mentats for myself. I have previously indulged in this substance a couple of times this evening at The Third Rail because, to be candid, it assists me in regaining some level of sobriety. My charisma continues to function adequately even without the aid of these little pills.
Relaxing on Hancock's opulent furniture, I stretch out my legs. The comfortable furniture that he owns is the most luxurious I've seen in town, rivaling only Irma's at The Memory Den (and lay one finger on that thing, she will have it right off). It's at this moment that I become aware of my thigh pressed against the ghoul stranger sitting beside me.
He seems either oblivious or completely unfazed. He’s leaning forward, engrossed in rolling a cigarette and casually chatting with Hancock about their questionable cap-making techniques. The Grape Mentats’ effects feel enhanced now that I'm in a cozy, warm environment, causing a pleasant, floating sensation to fill my core.
Slowly blinking in an attempt to control my sudden feelings of elation, I absentmindedly extend my hands in both directions to grab the thighs of the two men sitting on either side of me. A temporary lapse in judgment - but any doubt in the back of my mind is put to bed by the chems.
With a smirk, the ghoul reclines on the couch and averts his eyes to my wandering hand, before locking them with mine, confidently.
“Oh, it’s like that, is it?”
I tighten the hold on Hancock's thigh with my other hand, silently asking for his approval. We have a history of engaging with others intimately. Yet, this would mark our first encounter with another ghoul.
The speed at which I have reached this juncture has taken me aback, leaving me with a feeling of near-embarrassment. From the very outset, I had been intrigued by the mysterious stranger, finding him alluring. However, given his penchant for secrecy, I never envisaged that Hancock would go as far as inviting him back to his personal quarters. I had a feeling that it was a tactic, with my lover planning to gather more information before extending further hospitality to the stranger in his town. After all, Hancock is renowned for his intelligence, particularly with his frequent use of Mentats.
The sound of Hancock's laughter next to me confirms that he has understood my signals and is in agreement with my plan. Both of the men - damn, all three of us - are extremely intoxicated. I can feel the heaviness of the stranger’s drunken bulk on the couch beside me.
I maneuver my body over to the unfamiliar ghoul until I’m straddling him and tip back his hat slightly so that I’m able to press in close to his face. Hancock extends his arm to the table, pouring himself another drink, allowing me to continue seducing the man.
The ghoul pays no attention to him, yet maintains an unwavering stare at me with a noticeable sense of inquisitiveness shimmering in his eyes. I nervously nibble on my lower lip and subtly move my hips in a grinding motion against his pelvic area, making sure my panties graze against the material of his slacks. To my delight, I am met with the sensation of a burgeoning erection straining against my twat.
Finally, the ghoul turns his attention away from me to observe Hancock, who is leisurely sipping from his glass as he watches us.
“This smoothie - she your girl?” The sly grin that he aims towards Hancock betrays his uncertainty as he hesitates to make a move. So far, he hasn't laid a hand on me, choosing instead to let me grind against him and derive pleasure from his concealed member.
“Listen, brother…” He diligently refills his glass which has been depleted of its contents, for the umpteenth time. “It’s the end of the fucking world and, what can I say, I like to share.”
The ghoul casts a fleeting glance in my direction, taking a moment to carefully scrutinize my facial features and the contours of my slender physique. I detect the unmistakable tang of whiskey on his exhalations, observing with keen interest as he runs his tongue along his slightly open lips.
“So, for tonight, she’s our girl.”
(Part 4)
#fallout#cooper howard#ghoul#post apocalyptic#ghouls#the ghoul#ghoul fucker#goodneighbor#fallout hancock#hancock fo4#john hancock#hancock#mayor hancock#fanfiction writer#fanfiction#fallout fanfic#fanfic#female oc#crossover#fo4#fallout companions#fallout 4#fallout amazon#fallout prime
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Reborn is this weird paradox amongst the arcos where he has the MOST relationships cultivated but not a single one of them goes deeper than a puddle on his end until suddenly you reach the drop off point and you look back and see that you are no longer splashing in something shallow but there’s a giant gulf at your back and you’re lost at sea
You get no warning for where or when this point is. You don’t even notice it happening most of the time
Most people, when it comes to Reborn, have the good sense to keep their head above the water after they reach the point of no return. They see the shadows of something large swimming beneath them and ignore it, because it’s a dangerous game of that shadow being something harmless which might be interested in helping them continue to float along or being something that will hurt them if they try to touch it
Tsuna, a patented idiot: I’m gonna go diving actually
And you see, Tsuna notices those shadows swimming far beneath him. Tsuna notices, but it’s to his detriment because he hasn’t learned how to hold his breath long enough to check what’s safe and what isn’t and what he needs to take his time with
Bianchi is one of the rare people who took that time with Reborn, and he sincerely loves her for it. She gets away with a LOT of crap when it comes to him he wouldn’t tolerate from anyone else
And sometimes, very rarely, Reborn will send out a bird. Something large and flashy which blocks out the sun, something like appearing in front of Tsuna as an adult during the representative battles, and yes it's ridiculous that his idiot student doesn't notice a damn thing, but why would he? Why would he notices the world above him going dark?
He doesn’t think Reborn will ever make anything easy for him lol
So why would he look up?
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Hi! I dunno if this has been requested already but could we please get a platonic Yandere Azure Lion and MK? I can’t really think of a plot except for maybe Azure taking MK away so he can be “safe”.
Indigo Ephialtes
“Have you never had a nightmare before, cub?”
There’s concern and curiosity in that voice, both in multitudes. Each word drips with worry, paired with a powerful stroking up and down MK’s back.
The teen can’t bring himself to respond, of course. He’s too much too busy wiping away tears and trying to forget about the grim visions that have endlessly plagued his mind for the last month. Every night brings a new twisted scene, one that leaves MK shaking and sweating, fighting back tears while staring at the ceiling and praying for it to collapse across his quivering form.
He never use to have nightmares.
Not unless sickness had settled beneath the skin and plagued him with virulence. It was only when MK had to sit and stew that his brain was allowed to run wild with nauseating thoughts and putrid fears, chilling his skin worse than any cold ever could.
He’d wake up thrashing- throwing punches and picks to shadow-box enemies that existed only in the hazy corners of his worn eyes. And in every ‘fight’, he was to lose. MK would collapse to the floor in short order, sobbing into hands that he had beaten bloody against the headboard of his bed.
Those were the nightmares he grimly dreamt.
Back when Mei was a call away and would spend the whole night talking him back to calmness. When Pigsy would trudge upstairs with a fresh bowl of noodles and a handful of bandages. When Mr. Tang would soothe him back to sleep with an old story.
But his family isn’t here right now, are they?
“-ub. Cub. Cub, are you- MK!”
The teen snaps from his daydreams, ripped from the pleasant and warm thoughts of his family and the tenderness they provided.
“MK, my little cub, I’ve been talking to you for a while now. Were you… simply not listening?”
Disapproval in some small measure, negative ideations blooming in Azure’s ever-delusional mind.
The mere idea that his ‘cub’ might to some small degree reject even a mote of his fatherly love has started a snowball effect before. One little negative thing builds to a crafted tower, then the leonine beast toppled it with his own inability to see truth and reason.
And then MK spends the rest of the day ‘grounded’, locking up tight in his room and cut from the few possessions that his unwanted caretaker saw fit to garnish the room fit.
“No,” he chokes out, the lie thick and clumsy on his tongue. Azure raises an eyebrow, considering but not quite convinced. So then the boy sees fit to grinds out the one word he’s come to hate more than any other: “Papa.”
That is something that the lion takes at face value, every last time he hears it. Pulling it from MK’s mouth is harder than pulling teeth, so he cherished every moment that those two syllables left the boy’s lips.
“Of course not,” he coos, stroking the teen’s hair. It’s unsettling, how sharply the cyan creature changes his mood. But he’s in a better one now, all for a single word he longs to hear again and again and again. “You’re a good cub, hmm? You would never ignore me simply for the sake of it, would you?”
“No,” the teen lies again.
“You’re a much better cub than that,” the lion agrees, leaning down to nuzzle MK’s cheek, “and you’re too polite and sweet to lie to your papa.”
Already, the miasma of pervading delusion settles deep, reinforcing Azure’s beliefs.
MK is his perfect little cub. He’s the only one who can keep the boy safe.
“Now, cub… let’s talk about your nightmare, hmm?
His friends, face-down in puddles of mud. His family, ripped limb from limb and left to rot. Fertile dirt stained to speckled cinnabar.
“…just saw s-something…”
Messed up is what he wants to say. But the lion responds far better to MK playing along with the ‘helpless child’ act. So he finishes with a delayed “scary” instead, leaving Azure to sympathetically coo and bring the boy into his powerful arms.
MK wants to hate this. So badly, he wishes that the hug was painfully tight, or that Azure’s blue fur was rough to the touch. Any reason to hate it, to hate the comfort and warmth sinking deep into his skin from the cuddle.
But he can’t. There’s not even one thing wrong with it. The lion is well-versed in skinship and closeness, and is especially gentle with those he cherishes.
MK wishes this felt worse. He wants Azure to be awful and monstrous and demonic- it’d be easier to hate him. He wants to hate the Celestial rebel with all the heart he can muster.
But it’s getting harder and harder with each week in captivity. The leonine revolutionary is gentle, is kind, is genuine.
And with nothing he can do to slip free, MK gives himself to tears once more, allowing the throes of agony from his blood-seeped dream to break him down entirely.
After all, he knows that Azure will provide unconditional comfort and protection.
Whether he wants it or not.
(Was super hyped to get this request, ngl!)
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Request for Chie, Yukiko, Rise, and Naoto where they have a best friends to lovers relationship with their S/O. I'm talking about Yu and Yosuke levels of friendship. Please and thank you.
Ouch...almost two months...murdered motivation sucks...
-Chie first met you back in middle school. Your mutual love of martial arts movies led you to becoming fast friends, even though she was much more... enthusiastic than you were. You really just liked watch people fighting but Chie took it to the extreme.
-Not that you minded by any means of course, you looked up and admired her passion and drive. When you two met Yukiko as you entered high school you quickly became the glue holding the three of you together.
-It wasn't long before Yukiko started shipping the two of you together. Your dynamic just really struck a chord with her, she couldn't really describe it. As the Investigation team is formed and more people join, they start sharing the same sentiment.
-It never really occurred to Chie, mostly because she's not exactly a wise sage, but it certainly at least crossed your mind once or twice. Being around her just felt so...natural. It sort of felt like you were already romantically involved.
-It's after your close encounter with death when you caught the true culprit of the murders that you realized you had to do something or nothing would happen. It got you thinking on your own mortality and the realization that if you wanted to see change in your short life, you needed to make it happen yourself.
-As soon as you did work up the courage to confess your real feelings, Chie immediately breathes a sigh of relief, both at the fact that you felt the same she did and that she didn't need to take initiative herself anymore.
-Truthfully, not much changes People were teasing you about being in a relationship already for a reason. But there is that extra bit of tension when you're together. But it's the good kind.
-Your parents moved to Inaba when you were a child, and naturally you had to go along with them. While you were waiting for furniture to be moved into the new place you all went exploring and ended up at the Amagi Inn everyone was seemingly talking about.
-While you're looking around for things to do, you meet a girl your age who you learn is the daughter of the owners and you become friends pretty quickly.
-You're the first to find out and worry when Yukiko goes missing during your second year of high school. Once you figure out that Chie, Yosuke, and the new transfer student have found out where she is and they're planning to save her, you quickly assert yourself into the group, no room for negotiation.
-You lowkey lead the charge, leadership from Yu be damned. You're not letting anything happen to Yukiko as long as you still draw breath.
-Once you confront Yukiko's Shadow you go pretty much into overdrive. If her Shadow wasn't as strong as it was you would've thrown hands with it personally, even if you were weak to Fire skills after awakening your Persona.
-You barely manage to slip by and get Yukiko out safely after she's able to accept her Shadow. Something's still bothering you, though. The way her Shadow called you her prince, coming to save her.
-Upon questioning her, she suddenly gets rather nervous, but eventually confesses that she'd had feeling for you for some time now. You were able to act normal around her, supporting her no matter what.
-And you'd still stick by her no matter what. But this time, as her S/O.
-You were shopping one day in Junes when a girl your age quickly approached you, asking you to help her hide. Not really knowing what else to do when put in such a situation out of nowhere, you complied.
-After the surprisingly large crowd that came out of nowhere left, she breathed a sigh of relief and introduced herself as THE Risette, having no choice now. To her surprise though, you weren't a rabid fan. Yeah you'd heard of her, but had no interest in her status.
-Needless to say this came as quite a shock to her, but it also came with a huge opportunity. the opportunity to make a real, genuine friend without needing to worry about it going south because of her fame.
-So that's exactly what she did. You were keeping out of public eye as much as possible so people didn't catch on to your repeated plots in hiding her whenever the two of you went out, doing normal teenager things and growing closer.
-The feeling of security, of being able to be a normal person around you was something Rise didn't want to lose. Someone she could actually be Rise with, not Risette.
-The moment she knew she wanted you as an S/O, she made that clear immediately. And of course you couldn't say no to such an infectiously energetic, upbeat lady.
-Your dad was in the Inaba police force, he had been for quite a while. You accompanied him to the station one day, and for a change, actually found someone your age.
-An androgynous young man, claiming to be a student detective brought on to help solve the recent murder cases. You ask if you can help any, you did at least pick up a couple things from your old man. He said he'd get back to you if he ever needed anything and thanked you for the offer.
-It's not long before this new acquaintance, Naoto, does in fact get back to you. You two go out somewhere to eat and discuss/speculate about the case. Naoto however quickly became drawn to you, somehow, and the you ended up hanging out more casually, slowly but surely.
-Naoto in a twist of fate, however, ended up going missing as well like a few other people have. You were worrying for days about whether or not everything was alright, worried another body would be added to the count.
-Miraculously, and much to your relief, he ends up safe and sound, though saying there was a big secret to reveal. Naoto was actually...a woman.
-After listening to his- er... her reasoning for the disguise, you completely understand why it was done, much to her relief. You don't judge her for it.
-Once the secret's out, she opens up much more than before, and soon it's not long before a different kind of feeling between you two starts to develop. Surprisingly, she's the one to confess first. After confronting her Shadow, she realized she needed to be true to herself more, thought you don't need to know about the whole world inside the TV deal.
-She's inexperienced, but she's trying. It takes her a while to accept the fact you appreciated her for her, but the idea of calling you her S/O definitely wasn't one she was against.
#x reader#persona 4 x reader#persona headcanons#persona#chie satonaka#chie satonaka x reader#yukiko amagi#yukiko amagi x reader#rise kujikawa#rise kujikawa x reader#naoto shirogane#naoto shirogane x reader#headcanon
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Warnings: Violence, inappropriate language, manipulation, toxic relationships.
Notes: I'm really surprised that I managed to write another chapter in such a short space of time. I hope this cheers you up a bit! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!!!
I'd love to know if you'd prefer a protagonist with a name, or a “reader” protagonist
Portuguese version published on Wattpad
Word count: 2038
“You know I love you very much, don't you, darling?” David smiles at you, a venomous smile, his gaze containing a silent threat, daring you to do something wrong while he's away.
“I know. I love you too.” You answer, it's disgusting to have to say it, you've hesitated many times before, but you knew the hard way that it was better to go with the flow of things, to let things go his way. Here, you're nothing. “Come back safe.” You say, as he waves to you and walks through the front door. Secretly you wish he'd never come back.
“I'll be back soon.” He replies, his voice muffled as the door closes.
You don't move, not until you stop listening to the sound of the car's tires against the gravel. Letting out a breath you didn't even know you were holding, you move towards the bedroom. You'd go back to sleep, it was late and you didn't even like the idea of playing the good wife and saying goodbye. At this point you were in an internal struggle, not knowing what to feel, but at the same time you felt nothing, you felt hatred for him.
You climb the steps slowly, the darkness of the house becomes gloomy, as you face the large corridor that extends to the end of the stairs, you take a moment to look at the white door at the end of the corridor, you think about trying to open it in a moment of courage, he wasn't home, he couldn't stop you from opening the door.
You give up when you remember that the door would obviously be locked, David wasn't stupid, he knew that someone could try to open the door while he was away, whether it was you or the maid.
Opening the bedroom door, you are surprised by a cold wind coming from the window, a strange feeling of fear and doubt comes over you. You're sure that when you left the room, the window was closed, as was the whole house. With hesitant steps you walk to the window, there is no light except the new moon shining outside. When you reach the window, you feel your body shiver, the sensation of being watched passes through you for a moment, you look down cautiously and discover that the guard who is always at the door is passed out and tied up in front of the jeep they use for work.
Your heart races, you hear his pulse in your ear, you're stunned for a moment, not knowing whether to take the opportunity to flee, or whether you should hide, someone has passed out the guard and tied him up, just when David isn't at home, and by chance the window is open, your window.
Your thoughts are racing, you know there's someone in the house with you, but how did he get in so quickly? David left a few seconds ago, could you have wasted more than half an hour just climbing the stairs?
With a quick breath you feel the need to look for any kind of weapon to defend yourself, whoever got in here certainly wouldn't spare your life. You look next to you, a tacky lamp is there, and next to it a medium-sized plant pot, you grab it without thinking too much, as you turn back you squint your eyes trying to see into the partially lit room, you notice something moving towards you and you don't hesitate to throw the pot in its direction.
You can see the silhouette of a person, the vase hits them and falls to the floor, apparently it didn't even have an effect, you're not sure where you hit it, but you knew that if you didn't hit a vital part you were screwed.
He kept advancing, the black shadow was fast, you dodged by reflex when you hit him the first thing you saw, a pillow was thrown and distracted him long enough for you to run towards the door. Panic filled your veins, you would be killed, you would die living a dull life shrouded in panic.
Anger fills your senses, you hate it all, you hate David, you hate this house, you hate looking in the mirror and seeing a shell of what you were with each passing day, you hate yourself.
You can only hear your quick steps towards the kitchen, you only hear the rustle of clothes behind you, whatever is chasing you moves like a ghost.
The sharp turn you make at the door seems to delay your pursuer by a few seconds, giving you time to grab the first pan you see in front of you to defend yourself, the kitchen is brighter than your bedroom thanks to the large windows it has, you can see what's chasing you as soon as you turn back, But you didn't even have time to register what it looked like, as in the blink of an eye he was inches away from you with something in his hand, without wasting any time you hit the pan on his hand and then on what you thought was his head, the sound of the pan hitting echoed in the empty house.
Your luck seemed to run out the moment that pot hit his head. You felt your throat tighten immediately afterwards, the air being cut from your lungs.
You could take a closer look at what was chasing you now, unfortunately it was in the worst way, and not with the chaser passed out from the pan.
Everything was incredibly black except for the white skull staring at you in the dark, you couldn't see the eyes through the holes, but you could feel them piercing you. The tightness in your throat loosened slightly as soon as he saw that you weren't squirming. The pan that had been in your hand was forgotten on the floor, the counter behind you was clean, there were no weapons to use, if you wanted to get out alive, you had to be smart.
Anger and fear were strongly intertwined with each other, but anger in a fragile body like yours wouldn't solve anything. Fear, however, only served to make you soft, the survival instinct seemed to work the other way around, telling you to stay still, as if your predator couldn't see you, as if your predator didn't have his hand on your throat.
“What…” Your voice comes out lower and shakier than you first intended, but you continue anyway. “What do you want from me?” The man in front of you brings his second hand into your field of vision, the knife glinting on the moon, his body trembling with anticipatory fear. He realizes this and lowers the knife until it is facing his face.
“No funny business, okay?” He says to you and carefully releases you, his gloved hand moves away from your neck and he signals for you to remain silent. You just nod back. There were no loopholes to escape, so collaborating at the moment seemed the right thing to do.
He ties your wrists together in front of you and uses them to guide you into the room where he entered. He sits you on the bed and faces you. He seemed big before, but now, this was much more than you first thought. That made it worse, he seemed much more indimidating with her.
“You're going to tell me what I want to know, if you lie, I'll take action.” He remains where he is staring at you for a while longer before signaling for you to speak. “Do you understand?”
“Yes.” His voice remains low, he doesn't seem to care, anyway, even if you were completely hysterical screaming and calling for help, no one would come, he's passed out the only guard in the house, and in the place where you live, so far away from everything, it's obvious that no one would ever hear you.
“Where's your husband? Where did he go?” His voice was harsh, to the point. He seemed out of patience.
“I-I… don't know” His voice faltered, he took it as a lie. The knife from before soon came into view again, he twirled it between his fingers like a threat.
“I'm sure we fought before, didn't we? No lies, or should I make it clear that I'm armed?” His voice showed a lack of patience, and you certainly wouldn't want to test his patience.
“I swear.” You tried again.
“Little thing, if you're going to lie you should try to be more convincing, anyone swears. Now tell the truth, where is your shitty little husband?” He takes a step closer, the knife still twirling between his fingers. The movement would be mesmerizing if it weren't for this situation.
“Aren't you going to tell me that a good wife like you doesn't know where her husband is?” He teases, his voice now sounding sweet, a hint of amusement in it.
“I don't know where he is! You have to believe me!” You beg as he comes closer, the knife threatening you with every move.
“And why would I believe you, darling? As far as I know you're just pretending you don't know anything just to get your husband's fat ass off the hook.” The knife hovers inches from your neck, you swear you can feel the cold steel.
“I don't know who you are or what you want but if it's money or some kind of information I'm sorry you're talking to the wrong person!” You speak quickly, despair coursing through your veins, you're going to end up dead, and you haven't even had a chance to leave this place.
“You have to know something. He's not keeping you here for free.” He comes close to your ear. “Even if you are his pet, it's impossible that you don't know anything.” He steps back and watches your reaction.
Swallowing dryly, you remember the room at the end of the corridor, the place you never entered. “There is, there's a room at the end of the corridor.” You stutter as the knife lightly grazes your neck, stinging as he moves away from you.
“Yes? And what's in the room?” He asks.
“All the letters he receives are there, if there's any kind of information it's there.” You reply, the man seems satisfied with your answer.
“I said you knew something.” He comments, his voice now more amused, something like a mockery of I knew it!
“You're coming with me.” He pulls you up and leads you into the hallway. The white door at the end faces you, you hope to escape from this house as soon as this man leaves with whatever he's looking for, if you stay, and David comes back, you're sure to be dead.
The man turns the handle and the door doesn't move. He snorts in annoyance and pushes you behind him.
“I don't have the key.” You say as soon as he pushes you back.
“Well, I never said I needed one.” He replies quickly. You watch him step away from the door and kick it, the door opens on the second kick and soon he's pulling you into the room with him.
“I told you what I know, you're going to let me go… right?” The uncertainty in his voice is palpable, you wince as he throws you a look. With the light in the room now, you can see his eyes. A deep brown stares back at you, if before he was intimidating even without seeing you properly, imagine now that those eyes pierce right through to your soul from across the room.
“I don't usually leave witnesses, you little thing.” That's the only thing he says to you.
Credits for the mask used in the second image: @Mcmorthern on twitter.
If you are the owner of the image and want it removed, please contact me!
#call of duty#cod x reader#ghost x you#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#ghost fanfiction#ghost cod
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Doai Sitcom au but Alex is evil
I randomly had an au idea based on a book from the Shadow and Bone series, an in-universe folk-tale called "The Too Clever Fox"
(Spoilers for said book)
This au focuses on the idea that Alex is a veldigun hunter, with Lankmann being more of a figurehead/puppet so that Alex can do their thing without alerting any veldigun that THEY'RE the reason veldigun are going missing, not Lankmann.
In this au, Winfrey hasn't yet been captured, but other than that the plot starts the same, with a sandwich.
Clyde and Winfrey are residing in the area around Eastridge, along with another Veldigun pair, Simon and The Flock, who were visiting at the time.
One day, The Flock goes missing, and shortly after, Simon too.
Clyde goes looking for them, discovering the Foundation's presence. Clyde already knows about Lankmann, and it is NOT happy about this
The pair decide to observe The Foundation and the workers, watching as Lankmann claims to be curing those who were veldigun, and then taking notice of Alex, who seems to be uncomfortable with goings-on, and also like they might be high up in The Foundation.
Clyde plans to consume Alex's mind, only to end up holding the human ransom for sandwiches, and pretty soon Clyde finds itself getting attached.
Alex tells it that they don't enjoy working at the facility, but are forced to, and afraid they'll be killed once they have no further use to Lankmann.
Clyde considers introducing Winfrey, but ultimately chooses to play it safe, since Winfrey could be more easily noticed by the County members than it could.
Alex suggests that they might know of a way to get into the Foundation from a passage hidden in the forest, and Clyde, with the hope of getting the other veldigun back - despite their differences - Agrees to their plan.
On the day they plan to infiltrate the facility for the rescue mission, Winfrey chooses to keep hidden and watch from nearby, to ensure Clyde is safe, which it really wasn't.
Reaching the "entrance", Clyde goes into the tunnel first, to ensure Alex would be safe, only to find itself blocked off by Caretakers.
It turns back to find Alex is just standing there, and has the horrifying revelation that it was tricked.
The veldigun is backed into a corner and quickly restrained by caretakers (It never figured out what those things were, and probably never would.)
"Why?"
"Because I'm a hunter, it's what I do."
"I wanted to help you"
"You always do, even the cleverest beast can be lured to its fate with the right words"
"But Lankmann-"
"Herbert Lankmann is a fool who can barely stand being near me, but his greed is stronger than his fear, so he stays, and works away his terror, and while you all witness his claims, played the fool by words that could almost be real, I make my way through the woods."
"..."
"It is always the same trap. You wanted to protect your friends, the bird was driven by its hunger, the scarecrow missed his companion. The trap is loneliness, and none of us escapes it, not even me."
Terrified of ending up how like the other veldigun, Clyde, The Eastridge Demon, The Smiling Snatcher that haunted the county for so long, does something it had never done before, it cries out, and Winfrey, hidden among the trees, answers.
Winfrey, despite their height, gets in, and scatters the caretakers with relative ease.
Seeing what Alex had done, Winfrey attacked them, almost killing them, before seeing Clyde, and quickly escaping with it so that it can heal.
What happens to Alex after this- I'm not quite sure, maybe they contract Veldigun disease, maybe they bleed out, maybe Lankmann realises they're gone and makes haste to get the hell outta Eastridge.
It's up to interpretation
End of my rant, Doai autism hits different.
#doai#doai au#dreams of an insomniac#alex williams doai#doai winfrey#clyde doai#The Too Clever Veldigun au#veldigun#rewindrambles
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Kiss, Maime, Kill - Chapter 4: A Splendid Evening
Pairing: Alastor X killer! F Reader
Warnings!!!: Not really many on this one actually :0, bit of fluff as calm before the storm
Sorry for a late update, got the flu kicking my ass as well as GCSE exams lololol
Word count: 0.73k
1932
Louisiana, New Orleans
"And I do not care how complicated this gets. I still want you. I always will, Cher."
He opened his arm to you, and you slotted underneath, basking in his warm embrace.
"I love with my soul instead of my heart or mind, in case my mind forgets or my heart stops. But my soul will forever be yours, Mon cœur."
And he kept to his word. The past two years both of you were practically glued at the hip, partners in crime. Literally.
Unsurprisingly it wasn't long before the courtship gave way to marriage.
The stale smell of alcohol permeated the atmosphere. Stains of the liquids splashed over plush couches and barstools, the countertops clean yet permanently discoloured. Clinking of glasses echoed through the bar, accompanied by intoxicated laughter. Your own glass was smooth and clear, barely filled with a golden, shiny liquid and topped off with oversized ice cubes. The alcohol was fiery, scorching your throat as it rushed down, molten like magma. You winced at the harsh sting, coughing and spluttering at the way you knocked back half the glass in one sitting.
A gentle hand patted your back as you regained composure. "Are you alright, Cher?" He asked, a miniscule hint of concern seeping into his voice. Alastor's high tolerance to alcohol left him practically unaffected, even despite the smoldering sensation.
"Yes.. yes I'm fine, Al. Thank you." You squeezed your husband's hand. (hehheeheh)
After that you stuck to nursing your drinks, continuing for another couple of rounds before deciding to call it a night.
"Best of luck, Chums!" Alastor called out to the rest of the bar as you left, arm extended behind him. Some of the patrons hummed in acknowledgement, others were too intoxicated to care or comprehend the dismissal.
The streets of New Orleans were dark and cold, a stark contrast to the warm, fuzzy, golden ambience of the rather scruffy little bar. Cozy, yet not fully safe. Yet even the dingiest alleyway was nothing to fear for prolific serial killers, especially not when you knew Alastor was with you.
Long, drawn out shadows were cast by the moon, darkness enthralling the path you walked on. Yellow street lamps allowed for a slight rest bite in the night, and the crescent moon itself illuminated the inky sky. Night may have been full of secrets and terror for the ordinary person, but for you it was comforting and normal. The whole world slept and slowed as you watched. The monsters lurking in the shadows were yourselves, personified and human.
However, as winter drew in, the evening came with a sharp, chilling bite. You shivered slightly, pulling your thin jacket closer around your body.
"Cold?" Alastor asked, noticing you faulter.
"Only slightly." You breathed out in response, not that he believed that. No, he was already shrugging off his own coat, and, before you knew it, the material was wrapped around your shoulders, engulfing you in his warmth and scent. "Thank you."
"Don't mention it, my dear." You shared a smile before continuing on your way back home.
"The world is brighter with you in it."
"What a shame. I should hope my presence brings dreariness and discomfort to those around me." Alastor joked, raising a hand to his forehead in mock distress, drawing a snort from you. You stopped and turned to face him, causing him to do the same.
"Well, I can guarantee it does to some, my love. Particularly those we bump off I'd expect."
"Splendid!" You shook your head in exasperation as he took off, leaving you jogging to catch up to such an unreasonably fast pace. "You're such a goof." His stride lengthened further in challenge and before you knew it, the two of you were practically racing down the path.
By the time you reached home, it was particularly late, 2 in the morning to be exact.
"It's growing rather late." You acknowledged, kicking off your shoes by the door.
"Quite." Alastor agreed, holding out his hand to you before leading the way to your shared bedroom. He tossed you some more comfortable nightwear, leaving you to change. Waves of exhaustion engulfed you, your mind clouded with the alcohol. The last thing you remembered before sleep claimed you was a warm embrace and soft, comforting bedsheets tucked beneath your chin.
A splendid evening, all in all.
Part 5!!
#hazbin hotel#alastor#alastor imagine#alastor x reader#hazbin#hazbin alastor#hazbin alastor x you#hazbin hotel alastor
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Mal after seeing Alina for the first time in 2-3 months happy, healthy, strong: "oH mY gOd WhaT ArE YoU WeArInG?? YoU BeLoNG tO HiM NoW?? I CaN SeE YoU'Re HavInG a GoOd TIme hERe!!"😑😠
The Darkling after Alina ditched him twice, tried to kill him twice, the second time by using merzost and throwing a chapel on his face: "Here take this throne beside me, be my Tsarina. You were so hot that night.😩🔥 Also *takes out engagement ring* will you marry me?"🥺🖤❤️
#the man almost proposed after she tried to kill him😭#he's so infatuated he's lost😭#he loves seeing her powerful#it doesn't frighten him in the long haul#mal at least you could say how happy and grateful you are that she is safe and happy#and show it too#the darkling#pro darkling#alina starkov#aleksander morozova#pro aleksander morozova#grishaverse trilogy#grishaverse#shadow and bone#ruin and rising#siege and storm#anti mal oretsev#anti malina#anti mal#darklina#pro darklina
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Back on my Gotham is DC's version of Silent Hill Au/Prompt thing. Just make sure to follow the Bats and Birds- don't trust the lanterns by the roads, those won't stay working for long.
#batman au#batman#dc#dcu#prompts#cryptid batman#cryptid batfam#Gotham is like Silent Hill#art#gotham city#Oh y'know sometimes the shadows form into monsters#sometimes your deepest thoughts tear away into bodies of their own#sometimes regrets walk the streets#as long as you can make it to one of the city's guardians you're safe#for now#Gotham help whoever can't escape their demons and are swallowed by the city
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