#another male healer!

[endlesslytired]

So WOW. So much. So so much. Mei ritual accidentally went overdrive.

Bonus: That scene.

[gotta-bail-my-quails]

is anyone else kinda annoyed how obvious it is the SL game just wants to appeal to a certain cishet male audience because dude. how is it that nearly all the recent hunters added are women, half of whom haven't ever even showed up in the original story?? like, you can make a cool looking dude too you know. you could have another half of the population play your cash grabbing game if you just treated both genders with equal fanservice mindsets

[alligaytorswamp]

it takes everything in my power not to go on crazy rants about how weirdly and downright bad baizhu is being treated by hoyoverse 😶😶😶

[uraharasandals]

👀 for the WIP meme!

Ask and ye shall receive, hehehe

Here's some Jugram x my male OC. I'm planning to change the OC to a gender neutral! reader afterwards, but for now enjoy this piece of pure smut. Also I know he has a name, but feel free to insert yours (as in everyone else reading this too lmao) into his place :)

Also if anyone actually knows German feel free to critique it lmao, I used Google Translate

JUGRAM HASCHWALTH X MALE OC

18+ content below, minors DNI!!

“Can you help me?” Ulbrecht asks, fingers prodding at his lips. Wordlessly, Jugram parts his mouth, letting the digits slip onto his tongue while the other kisses his neck, the mere weight of his breath against skin sending shivers down his spine. Once he seems satisfied with how wet his fingers are, Ulbrecht withdraws them, and they soon disappear behind his back.

Jugram watches, fascinated, as the usual sternness the healer composes himself with falls apart under his own skilful ministrations. Though he doesn’t have a view of what he’s doing to himself, the Sternritter knows exactly what’s happening by the slick sounds permeating the air, the pleasure on Ulbrecht’s face leaving little to the imagination – or rather, because of such detail and lack of a clear picture, Jugram’s creativity manages to fill in the crevices himself, conjuring up an image of more lewdness than the truth. It doesn’t help that the other man wasn’t even trying to be quiet, but rather seems to be losing himself to the skilful prodding of his own fingers. Jugram swallows, throat suddenly gone dry at the display. 

“I think that’s good enough,” Ulbrecht announces suddenly, jolting him out of his daze. He knows that Jugram is transfixed and caught up in his thoughts, evident in the tell-tale smirk that he kisses him with. Easing himself up on his knees, the healer holds his cock steady before slowly sinking down, and Jugram feels a delicious shudder run through him, heat coiling at the bottom of his stomach with the overwhelming sense of warmth enveloping his already hardened cock. 

A hand shoots out, trembling, to grip at Ulbrecht's slim hip, the dip of flesh that seems to be made for that action specifically. "M - mein schatz – " 

"Go on," He says softly, hands already working at the part of cock that wasn't fully sheathed within himself, and it was that encouragement that draws a long deep moan out of Jugram as he comes, filling the other man's hole with his seed. 

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Nurture.

Paring: Yan!Geto Suguru x Reader x Yan!Gojo Satoru (JJK).

A Continuation Of Nursle.

Word Count: 11.0k.

TW: Dub/Con, Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Unhealthy Relationships, Emotional Manipulation, Implied Imprisonment, Mentions of Pregnancy/Childbirth, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, Implied Semi-Public Sex, Forced Marriage, Panic Attacks/Disassociation, Mentions of Stalking, and Nonchronological Timelines. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

[Part One] [Part Three]

You were never supposed to meet Geto Suguru.

It’d been a misstep in the never-ending trudge that was the cosmic timeline; a mistake on behalf of the universe that left you on the doorstep of his temple, glancing between the rustic entryway and the scrap of paper one of your student’s mothers had slipped into your hand a few weeks prior. “They should be able to help with your little problem,” she’d explained with a wink, a knowing glance towards your stiff shoulders, the dark bags under your eyes. “One visit, and you’ll feel like a teenager again.”

You’d smiled politely and told her that you’d give it a try and shoved her note into a drawer below your desk to be swiftly forgotten. You went to a doctor, then a chiropractor, then a psychologist, then briefly considered making an appointment with a fortune teller before finally relenting and deciding that you were, in fact, desperate enough for a miracle healer. It took three trains, two taxis, and more than a handful of helpful strangers, but you’d arrived at the messily scrawled address in one piece. You could still turn around, try your luck with another specialist, another bottle of over-the-counter sleeping pills – sane solutions that sane people fell back on when they encountered problems that sane people had. You could go back to your flat, your ever-growing pile of ungraded tests, and pretend you’d never been here at all. You could do the thing that crazy, desperate people didn’t do, and you could leave.

You took a deep breath, braced yourself, and crossed into the entryway.

An attendant caught you as soon as you’d stepped inside. He was male, middle-aged, wearing the most strained, plastered-on smile you’d ever seen as he bowed his head to you. After a moment of nervous delay, you returned the gesture. “I—Uh, a friend of mine pointed me in your direction,” you stuttered out, doing your best to speak through your anxiety. “She said your head priest could…”

You trailed off, struggling to find the right words. Thankfully, the attendant cut in before you could make yourself look like a complete moron. “Geto-sama?” Impossibly, his smile widened even further. “You’ve come to the right place - he’s a truly miraculous healer. He’s seeing another poor, suffering soul at the moment, but you’re free to wait outside of his sanctuary.”

With a quick nod and a few words of thanks, you were swiftly taken to and abandoned in a small sitting room that, you could only guess, led into the innermost shrine. You sunk into a remarkably uncomfortable wooden chair and managed to sit still for all of three seconds before looking for your next distraction. Thankfully, it wasn’t hard to find.

Two girls sat on the other side of the room; sisters, you guessed, if not twins. One (Mimiko – it’d still be a few days before you learned her name) was perched on the edge of a chair identical to your own while the other (Nanako) sat cross-legged on the floor between her legs, fiddling with a hand-held console as her sister tried and failed to braid her hair. You couldn’t help yourself – a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you watched Mimiko clumsily fumble with the messily divided strands of hair, her frustration written clearly across her expression. You’d always been comfortable around kids, as much as you never wanted to have your own. You didn’t know much about healing priests or mystic illnesses, but you knew how to handle a struggling seven-year-old.

When she looked away from her work, seeming to notice you for the first time, you offered her a bright smile, a quick wave. “Having a hard time?” you asked, gesturing towards her messy handiwork. “I can show you a few tricks, if you’d like.”

There was a long moment of hesitation, a quick look shared with her sister. “I understand if you don’t trust my credentials, but…” You fished out a few spare hair-ties out of your pocket: bright pink and adorned with equally garish bows, the color and design enough to make Nanako’s eyes light up. One of your more absent-minded students tended to forget hers, and you’d gotten into the habit of carrying a healthy stockpile on her behalf. “I did bring my own supplies.”

A few minutes later, you found yourself dutifully combing out Mimiko’s hair while Nanako admired her new pigtails. They seemed reluctant to talk to you, but you did your best to make polite conversation – well, as much as you could with two stand-offish grade schoolers. “Are you two waiting for someone?”

Mimiko pursed her lips, but Nanako wasn’t so shy. “Our dad,” she filled in, the kind of pride only an idealistic child could have for a parent heavy in her voice. “He hates monkeys.”

“Oh.” You did your best to sound surprised, rather than confused. “Does he work for the temple?”

“Mhm – he’s really strong, and super important.” She waited for you to num in acknowledgement, then went on. “You’re here to see him, right? He can definitely help you, if you are.”

Your hands faltered, a lock of Mimiko’s hair slipping out of your loose hold. “Your father’s… the head priest?”

Nanako nodded enthusiastically, and for the first time, Mimiko chimed in, “He’ll probably get rid of your creepy friend.”

This time, you stopped moving entirely. “I’m sorry, my friend?”

Mimiko glanced over her shoulder, moved to speak, but the screen door leading into the shrine slid open before she could answer you. It wasn’t an attendant, this time, but a man in monk’s garb with hair that reached past his shoulders and a grin less strained but just as artificial as that of his attendants. Geto Suguru, although it’d still be some time before you knew to call him that.

His dark eyes found you first, before moving to his daughters. “Girls,” he started, tone more playful than chiding. “Are you bothering my guests?”

The twins exchanged a long, weighty look before Nanako pushed herself to her feet and hurried to her father’s side. With a sigh of mock exasperation, he leaned down, letting her whisper something into his ear as you rushed to finish Mimiko’s braid. You couldn’t make out what she was saying, but it was enough to earn a pair of pursed lips from Suguru, a languid shake of his head. Without responding to her, he straightened his back, already ushering you inside. You took a deep breath, then followed him into the shrine.

He made no attempt to put on a show of false hospitality. Wordlessly, he left you loitering in the center of the very empty, very large room while he stepped onto a raised platform and collapsed onto his side, propping his elbow on a cushioned, stand-alone armrest. This time, when he sighed, it seemed to be out of a more genuine exhaustion, his eyes falling shut briefly as he propped his chin on his fist and brought his free hand to his temples. “I have to apologize for my daughters. If I could watch them constantly, it still wouldn’t be enough.” He opened his eyes, and instantly, you felt the full weight of his stare. If it hadn’t been a feeling you were so used to, it might’ve been enough to send a chill down your spine. “Now, how can I be of service to you?”

You dug your teeth into the inside of your cheek, fighting the urge to fidget. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping, lately. There’s been this weight on my back, like—”

“Like you’re being watched?”

He spoke confidently, as if answering a question he’d written himself. With your hands clenched into fists at your sides, you nodded. Suguru’s head lulled to the side, his smile taking on a satisfied lilt. “I thought so. Tell me – have you had any scorned lovers in the past? Boyfriends, fiancés, that type of thing?”

“A stalker,” you admitted. “But, he passed a few months ago. There was an accident, and—”

This time, he cut you off with a snap of his fingers. It was brief, barely a flash of movement, but you caught something in the corner of your eye – an amorphous shape perched above your right shoulder, a thousand eyes spotted across its baggy skin and a hundred curling tentacles wrapped around your arms, your chest, your stomach. You shut your eyes, winced, and when you opened them again, the creature was gone and Suguru held a small, pitch-black marble between his thumb and forefinger. He took a second to evaluate it before letting out an approving hum and bringing the marble to his lips, swallowing it whole. In your shock, it didn’t even occur to you to look away.

“These things tend to linger.” It was a meager explanation, but you accepted it whole-heartedly. For the first time in months, you were able to straighten your back, to drop your shoulders, to stand up without a single part of you crying out in protest. You might’ve cried, if you hadn’t been so relieved.

“Thank you,” you nearly gasped, bowing at the waist. “Oh my god, I— I don’t have much money, but—”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly ask for compensation. Consider this—” A click of his tongue, a roll of his wrist. “—a favor between friends. The most I could ask for is a little of your time, in return.”

You would’ve given him your first-born child, if he’d asked for it. “Of course, anything. I really can’t thank you enough, sir.”

“It’s just— I’ve been trying to find a tutor for my daughters for the longest time, and they already seem fond of you.” For the first time since you’d stepped into his shrine, he sat up, facing you directly. “I understand that you’re a teacher?”

You left the temple a few minutes later, a new number programmed into your phone and a smile brighter than anything you’d worn in years painted across your lips.

~

You moved in with Satoru the same day he met Himari – as much being told to shove everything you couldn’t live without in a bag because you wouldn’t be coming back to your apartment could be called moving. You would’ve fought it more, but he’d been holding your daughter, and you couldn’t take that kind of risk with her. Not again.

Time seemed to pass in slow, thick clumps. Hours would pass in the blink of an eye and seconds would drag on and on and on until you couldn’t stand the idea of pretending you cared, anymore. A nursery was thrown together in one of Satoru’s guestrooms. When you mentioned that you’d never slept so far from her, Satoru cooed and kissed your cheek.

“It’ll be alright, baby. I’ve got enough monitors to last ‘till she’s eighteen. And, no offense, they’re a little more reliable than what you’ve been using.” Another kiss, this one to the corner of your jaw. “Besides, I don’t think you’ll want her sharing a room with us.”

Something pricked at the back of your throat. “I could sleep in here, with—”

“Nope.” He was kind enough to shut you down before you could so much as start to get your hopes up. “Honestly, she should count herself lucky I’m willing to share at all.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to respond. Instead, you closed your eyes, and when you found the strength to open them again, the world was dark and your body was cold.

~

Once the novelty wore off, you fell into a steady routine. Once or twice a week, you’d make the trip to Suguru’s temple and do your best to drill seven years’ worth of public education into Mimiko and Nanako while their father saw his unfortunate visitors. They were smart girls, even if they were more interested in your love life than multiplication tables, and when you thought about Suguru had done for you, you couldn’t say you minded spending a few hours of your weekend in a scenic, rural temple surrounded by Suguru’s (sometimes off-putting, but never unpleasant) congregation.

It took two months before you saw Suguru’s composure slip. It’d been a mistake – an accident on your part as much as it was on his – but you hadn’t thought of it in such fatalistic terms in the moment.

You kept your hands in your pockets as you wandered through the temple’s courtyard, stretching your legs while the girls finished a worksheet on long division (chosen by Nanako over English contractions, much to Mimiko’s protest). Idly, eager to give them as much time as you could, you made your way around the inner sanctum’s perimeter, rounding a sharp corner before abruptly coming to a stop.

Geto sat on the edge of the raised porch, eyes closed and his shoulder braced against the side of a support beam. You moved to flee, to apologize for interrupting his meditation, but you noticed his hunched posture, his slightly parted lips, and let out a breath of a laugh, your panic fading into pity.

Ah, the poor thing.

He was so tired, he’d fallen asleep sitting up.

As little as you’d expected to see a grown man sleeping in public, you weren’t surprised. Suguru was always running himself ragged; either hosting guests or holding sermons or running errands on the temple’s behalf, always coming back with a certain weight to his steps and an off-kilter quirk to his smile. With a sigh, you kneeled next to him and after a moment of hesitation, shrugged off your coat, taking care not to wake him as you draped it over his shoulders. Immediately, he relaxed – an ounce of the tension in his shoulders dissolving as he slumped into himself. You’d considered waking him up, but decided against it. Your own months of sleepless nights and never-ending days were still fresh in your memory. You didn’t want to be the reason he missed out on a few precious minutes of much-needed rest.

You heard a screen door slide open, a high-pitched voice call your name from the other side of the temple. You pushed yourself to your feet, but paused, spared another glance toward Suguru. It was a stupid, spontaneous thing to do, you didn’t give yourself time to think better of it before brushing his bangs away from his face and pressing a kiss into his forehead – the kind of kiss you’d give to one of your students in the wake of scraped knees and playground arguments. When he failed to stir, you pulled back and crossed your arms over your chest, doing your best to keep yourself warm as you started back to where his girls were waiting for you.

~

Satoru was at your door as soon as the bell rang.

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you must’ve known he wouldn’t give up old patterns so easily. He loitered in the hallway while your hyper-active students filtered out, slipped inside as the last of the stranglers did their best not to gawk at the inhumanely tall stranger with unnaturally white hair. By the time he crossed the threshold, you and Megumi were the only ones left, the latter dutifully waiting for his daily busy work at the corner of your desk.

Satoru acknowledged him with a click of his tongue, a quick ruffle to Megumi’s hair before he moved onto you. “There’s my pretty girl,” he half-said, half-sung as he slung an arm around your neck, pulling you into his chest. “Had you on my mind all day. Couldn’t stop wishin’ I had your pretty ti—”

You cleared your throat into your hand, nodding pointedly towards Megumi. Satoru’s grin faltered, then collapsed into a pursed-lipped frown. He didn’t say anything, but his thumb dug into your shoulder, his cruel eyes flickering to you over the dark lenses of his glasses. You didn’t need any further instruction. If Suguru taught you anything, it’d been how to get rid of unwanted company.

“Megumi.” You waved him toward you, and despite the mix of distrust and exasperation written clearly across his expression, he stepped forward. Still, you braced yourself before going on. As little as you wanted to associate him with Satoru, to blame him for what Satoru did to you, you hadn’t been able to meet his eyes all day. Whenever you looked at him, you couldn’t help but think about Himari, and whenever you thought about Himari—

“You usually walk home with Tsumiki today, right?” He didn’t, but you couldn’t think of a better excuse. Lately, it was all you could do to put one word in front of another, let alone actually manage to clear away enough of the thick, buzzing static clouding your mind to form an intelligent thought. “You should really get going, before she starts to think you left without her.”

His gaze dropped to the ground. He mumbled something just a breath below audible, and you forced yourself to smile. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I don’t want to leave you alone with him.” His tone was clipped, his eyes narrowed. “He’s… He’s gross, and weird, and you shouldn’t talk to him.”

If he’d been any other kid, if Satoru had been any other adult, you might’ve laughed, chided him for speaking so rudely about his elders. Instead, you only sighed, your smile faltering as you brought a hand to his shoulder. “We’re just going to have a little chat, that’s all. I promise, I’ll be just fine when we see each other tomorrow.” You paused, lowered your voice into something playfully conspiratorial. “Between you and me, I think he’s pretty weird too. Thanks for looking out for me.”

His scowl deepened, but he didn’t protest. After tossing one more glare in Satoru’s direction, he trudged out of your classroom, letting the door slam behind him. You didn’t have time to feel relief or dread or much of anything before Satoru was on top of you – his knee planted between your thighs, one of his hands groping at your waist while the other caught your chin, holding you in place while his lips crashed into yours, the kiss mess and open-mouthed and desperate. “The brat’s annoying,” he muttered, as he pulled away. “But I can’t say I don’t see where he’s coming from. If you’d been my teacher, I don’t think I would’ve been able to stop myself from bending you over your desk ‘n earning a little extra credit.”

A wave of nausea washed over you. You couldn’t stop yourself from buckling forward, but Satoru had already moved on, found his way to the side of your neck. “Please, don’t talk about my students like—”

Your voice gave out as he bit down – burying his teeth in your throat in less of a love-bite and more of an effort to eat you alive. You barely managed to stop yourself from crying out, but panic quickly swallowed whatever pain you might’ve felt. It’d leave a mark, one you wouldn’t be able to hide, not completely. Against your will, your mind flashed to Megumi and, if you’d been just a little weaker, you might’ve collapsed, passed out while Satoru lapped the blood now trickling down your throat. If you’d been just a little luckier, you might’ve fallen apart entirely.

Your hands shot to his hair, and Satoru let out a throaty groan. His hands fell to your thighs, and before you could so much as think to struggle, you were laid across your desk, folders and worksheets pushed aside in favor of trapping your body underneath his. “Always wanted to do this,” he muttered into your shoulder, already pulling your skirt to your waist. “Might have to go into teaching, too – just so you can return the favor.”

He might’ve gone on, but you were done listening.

You would have to request a change of classroom, tomorrow morning.

~

Nanako returned your coat to you a week later, rolling on the balls of her feet and grinning from ear to ear.

You saw Suguru more often, after that.

Granted, not too often, and never for very long. He was still a busy man, and most of your interactions were limited to minute-long conversations as you found each other heading in the same direction, a few niceties exchanged as you dropped Nanako and Mimiko off at the door of his shrine. He never struck you as overly guarded, but you could count the number of times you’d heard him speak about himself on a single hand. If it hadn’t been for his girls, you probably would never have learned his given name.

Winter had begun its swift and relentless approach, and you found yourself standing outside of the temple’s gates, watching the sun slip below the horizon and debating if it would be worth it to cough up the cash for a taxi, rather than dragging yourself through the labyrinth that was public transportation in the dark. As you checked your phone for the dozenth time, you caught a flash of movement in your peripheral and glanced up only to find Suguru – changed out of his monk’s garb and into a plain shirt and a pair of sweatpants that made him look more like an exhausted college student than the head of his own temple. He nodded to you by way of greeting, and you flashed him a smile. “Waiting for someone?”

“Something like that.” You looked back to your phone and sighed. “I might have to make our next session a little earlier. I forgot how dark it could get and, well, you know what it’s like in the city.”

You withered, but Suguru only brightened. “Let me give you a ride.”

“Are you sure? I’d hate to—”

“Please, (Y/n).” You could see why he had such a dedicated congregation. When he spoke, it was impossible not to listen. “Just think of it as a favor between friends.”

You wanted to refuse, to tell him not to waste his time, but a streetlamp buzzed to life somewhere above you and the last trace of your resolve crumbled. A few minutes later, you were in the back of a sleek, black car – Suguru sitting next to you and his driver hidden behind a tinted partition. More time than you would’ve liked passed in tense silence before you, more motivated by discomfort than gratitude, broke the quiet. “I was surprised when I found out Nanako and Mimiko were homeschooled.” Before he could respond, you realized how it must’ve sounded and tried to backtrack. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that! It’s just—you’re always so busy, and they’re such bright girls. I’m sure that, if you ever did want to get them enrolled, they’d do very well. It’d free up a lot of your time, too.”

You thought you saw him wince, but it could’ve just been a trick of the light. By the time you turned to face him properly, his expression was unreadable – his lips pulled into a thin line and his dark eyes focused on some unseen point in the distance. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this,” he admitted, before letting an airy sigh. “But… I made a lot of bad choices, when I first took them in. The were a bad situation, and I was young and stupid, and I— I think I might’ve fucked things up. For them, at least. I probably would’ve ended up in the same place eventually.” Another sigh, a lengthy pause. When he went on, his tone was heavier, his usual confidence greatly diminished, if not absent entirely. “…you don’t think I made a mistake, do you?”

You took a second to think, letting your eyes fall to your lap. “I don’t,” you said, finally. “The girls seem happy, and you’re providing for them. They won’t have normal lives, but—” You hummed, shrugged. “Who does?”

He seemed to relax, the harsh edges of his expression dulling. His eyes shifted to you. “You’re not going to tell anyone, right?”

This time, you didn’t hesitate at all, shaking your head with a slight smile. “Consider it,” You let your tone dip into something teasing and secretive, raising your chin the way he tended to when talking to guests and members of his congregation. “a favor between friends.”

Your showmanship earned a dry chuckle, a softened gaze. After a long beat, he asked, “Would you mind if I, uh…” He trailed off, tugged at the collar of his shirt. “Would you mind if I tried something?”

Now, it was your turn to laugh. You’d assumed he was in his mid-twenties, but he must’ve been younger – he was acting like a teenager. “Go ahead, Suguru.”

Despite your reassurance, he stalled for a few seconds before, more than a little stiltedly, bending at his waist and resting his head gingerly on your lap. It was an awkward position, the back of the car too cramped for him to lay down properly, but his eyes fell shut and after the initial shock faded, you could only smile, raising a hand and combing your fingers idly through his hair. When you pulled the elastic band holding his half-bun together out of place, letting his hair fall loose over your thighs, he didn’t protest, only going that much more limp on top of you.

You two stayed that way for the rest of the trip; his head in your lap, your finger carding through his hair, the only noise that of traffic and the occasional muted hum when your attention started to drift. It was only when his driver pulled onto the curb in front of your complex that Suguru raised his head, blinking himself back into consciousness. You turned to let yourself out, only to feel him take up one of your hands – his fingers soon intertwined with yours. You didn’t have time to ask him what he was doing before you felt him cup your cheek, before you felt his mouth against yours.

The kiss was gentle but warm, shallow but lingering. He held you there, his lips barely yours, for a second, then another, before you snapped out of it and pulled away – your disgust as immediate as it was it was self-concentrated. If Suguru felt the same way, he hid it well. You could only make out the slightest trace of hurt in the down-turned corners of his parted lips.

He started to say something, but you were already rushing to apologize. “I’m sorry, Suguru. You’re a sweet kid, but I’m—” You forced yourself to laugh, the noise jolting and strained. “I’m nearly twice your age.”

He pursed his lips. “I don’t care how old you are.”

“Exactly.” You shook your head, dragging a hand over your face. “I’m so, so sorry. I should’ve been more clear about, I don’t know,” You gestured vaguely. “—everything. And I should really—”

Again, you moved to leave, and again, he stopped you. This time, he caught you by the wrist. “I’m not a kid.” You tried to pull away from him, but his grip tightened. You felt something in your forearm begin to ache. “If you don’t believe me, I’ll show you how serious I am.”

“Absolutely not.” You pried the door open and jerked away from him just in time to stumble out of his car and onto the pavement. You saw his posture straighten, his body tense as if he was going to try to lunge at you, but mercifully, he must’ve thought better of it. His anger was, instead, focused entirely into his unblinking stare, and you did your best to speak in spite of the way his eyes burnt into your chest. “I… I think it would be for the best if we didn’t see each other, for a while. Tell the girls I’m out of town, and—” You swallowed, dryly. “—I think you should get some rest, Suguru. You need it.”

As awful as it made you feel, you slammed the door shut before he could respond. He didn’t try to chase you, but his car hadn’t moved by the time you made it to your flat. With your doors locked and your blinds pulled shut, you watched it until, hours after midnight, you nodded off.

He was gone when you woke up, and you could only hope he’d be mature enough to mind his distance.

~

Satoru’s face was buried between your thighs when you heard his phone ring, his hands curled around your thighs and your body perched on the edge of one of his rarely used marble counters. You would’ve missed it entirely if you’d been a little closer to the edge, if he’d been just a little nosier as he moaned and grunted into your cunt, but you weren’t, and he wasn’t, and the sound of that melodic dial-tone cut through the haze like a knife through fog (relatively ineffective, but still violent enough to draw attention). You straightened as much as you could, combing your fingers through his hair and tugging, gently. “Satoru, I think—”

“It’s not important,” he muttered against your thigh, drawing back just far enough to be audible. “’s probably just the kids. They said they were coming over, but—” He flashed you a smile, bright eyes catching the light. “They can wait ‘till we’re done. I can’t just leave my pretty girl unsatisfied.”

Immediately, the haze stiffened and shattered into a panic-inducing, heart-racing clarity. You straightened, cursed under your breath, but Satoru tongue was already lapping over your soaked slit, the bridge of his nose grinding against your clit as he all-but worshipped your pussy. This time, you didn’t tug, but pulled – doing what little you could to pry him off of you, but all you earned was a throaty whine, his fingertips dug that much deeper into the plush of your ass. His tongue bullied its way past your clenching entrance, curling and thrusting, and it took everything you had not to snap your thighs shut around his head, not to give him what he wanted. “Satoru,” you spat, using the same tone you’d put on for a misbehaving student. “S-stop.”

It was more of an instinct than a decision, more of a reflex than a choice, but either way, it didn’t seem to make a difference. With his eyes blearily focused on your expression, his mouth latched onto your pussy like it was the last thing he’d ever taste, he fucked you open with his tongue until your toes were curling, your legs twitching, your vision burning pure white in a way that made you wish you could give up on sight altogether. He nursed you through your climax until the last of your energy was spent before pushing himself to his feet and slamming his mouth into yours – his teeth cutting into your lips and your taste heavy on his tongue. By the time he pulled away, you were panting and he was wearing that awful, careless grin. You never thought you’d miss Suguru’s calculated smile, and yet.

And yet.

You didn’t have time to be angry. The kids came first – a thought that, if you’d given yourself a chance to linger on it, would’ve been more of a cause for concern. “Go clean yourself up, I’ll take care of the kitchen. Call them back as soon as you’re finished.”

“I love it when you get bossy,” he said, with a dreamy sigh. “It’s hot in a, like, ‘put me over your knee and spank me’ way, y’know?”

Your only response was a quick shake of your head, a repulsed curl of your lips. Satoru only laughed, pecking your cheek and burying his face in the crook of your neck. “They’ll love you. Megumi likes to act shy, but he can’t shut up about you. Tsumiki’ll just be ecstatic to have a baby sister,” he mumbled into your throat. “You wouldn’t break their hearts, would you?”

It might’ve hurt less, if there hadn’t already been two little girls somewhere in Japan who knew that you absolutely would.

~

You called Suguru from the curb in front of your flat, your head in your hands and tears streaming openly down your cheeks. He let it ring once, twice, before answering. You could practically hear the smile in his voice, practically feel the smugness in his tone. “I thought we weren’t talking, dear?”

You swallowed back another ragged sob. “It’s back.”

He was there within the hour – alone, this time, no girls and no driver. You stayed where you were as he let himself into your flat, returning only a few minutes later with a thoughtful hum and a thin frown playing on his lips. “It’s rare, but it does happen,” he started, as he sat down next to you. He was dressed in street clothes, rather than his monk’s garb. Somehow, that only made it more difficult to look at him. “Particularly restless spirits can lie dormant before reappearing stronger and more attached to their living host. A standard exorcism might no longer be enough to banish it.”

You felt something heavy and pointed drop into the pit of your stomach. Calling it 'stronger' was an understatement – you couldn’t believe something so massive, something so awful had ever been attached to you. When you let your mind wander, you could still see its dripping, pitch-black arms writhing over the walls and ceiling of your bedroom, still feel its countless eyes burning into you – a hundred, no, a thousand times worse than it’d been when Suguru had first sent it away. You buckled at the waist, burying your face in your knees, and Suguru rested a hand on your back, rubbing slow circles into your shoulder. You were thankful for the comfort, even if it would’ve taken you another few weeks to completely forget the feeling of his hand around your wrist. “Can you…” You cringed, shrunk into yourself. “Can you help?”

“Oh, absolutely.” If he’d been just a little more cocky, he would’ve been purring. “But I’m afraid it’ll cost you more than a favor, this time.”

“I’ll do anything.”

“I know.” His hand went still, settling on your shoulder. “But I need you to give me something, this time.”

You didn’t hesitate. “Anything,” you repeated, with all the desperation of a sinner laid bare before the altar. “Please, Suguru. Anything.”

“I need an heir.”

You could practically feel your heart split open and shatter inside of you. “…an heir?”

“For the sake of my congregation,” he said, like that explained anything. “We’ll have to get married first, of course. You’ll be taken care of until the child’s born, and then, you’ll be free to go.” His hand fell to your own, squeezing gently. “Or to stay with us, if that’s what you prefer.”

Any other time, the idea alone would’ve been enough to make you sick. Any other day, you would’ve told him that he could have anything, anything but that.

But, in the moment, all you could seem to think about was your flat and the monster inside of it. You felt yourself nod and, before you could take it back, heard Suguru laugh, felt his lips against your temple. “You’re making the right choice,” he muttered, the words nearly lost against your skin. “I love you.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say it back.

~

Tsumiki and Megumi were asleep in the guest room turned makeshift nursery. Megumi had been slow to warm, quick to hear Satoru introduce you as his ‘one and only’ and assume the worst (which, to be fair, wasn’t exactly wrong), but Tsumiki hadn’t been so stand-offish, and ultimately, whatever concerns an eight year old could have for your safety crumbled under his sister’s desire to fawn over your newborn. You were glad. You didn’t want him to worry about you. That was a mistake you’d made with Nanako and Mimiko. You’d let Suguru give them a reason to care if you left, and then, you’d left.

Your gaze drifted to Himari. She’d always loved attention (a trait you could only assume she’d inherited from her father), and she’d spent most of the afternoon and the entire evening basking in Tsumiki and Megumi’s adoration. Currently, she was sitting in your lap, giggling and clapping her hands together as you idly bounced her on your knee. The sight alone was enough to make your heart soar – any thoughts of Satoru and his wards fading into the background as you leaned forward and peppered her tiny face with kisses. It was a miracle that you loved her at all, let alone as much as you did. Pregnancy hadn’t been kind to you, and it wasn’t until the moment she was born that you could stand to think of yourself as a mother of a child, rather than just the incubator to a cultist’s pipedream. You’d never wanted children, but now that you had one, you couldn’t imagine letting anything in the world take her away from you.

Maybe, if he’d been a little kinder to her, if he hadn’t already had two daughters to spoil and adore, you might’ve been able to justify loving Himari less than you did, might’ve been able to leave her in his care when you pried a window open and fled in the middle of the night. He’d never been cruel to her, but no part of you believed that he wouldn’t have been if she’d failed to do what she’d been made for – if your love for her hadn’t been enough to keep you by his side. Even if you hadn’t loved her at all, you still would’ve taken her with you. No child deserved to be left in the care of a monster like Suguru.

You choose, deliberately, to only think about Himari, to tell yourself that you only ever had to think about Himari. You couldn’t afford to break your own heart a second time.

Choosing not to think about Megumi and Tsumiki proved more difficult.

~

It was a courthouse wedding, the ceremony little more than a few signatures and a hesitant ‘congratulations’ from the officiant. Suguru’s assistant – a blonde woman who looked at you with equal parts sympathy and disgust – acted as the witness. Suguru explained that, after your first child was born, there would be a more elaborate ceremony, something with rings and dresses and flowers that the girls could participate in. You were too dissociated to point out that there wasn’t supposed to be anything after the child was born, let alone something that would leave you that much more bound to him.

You expected him to take you back to your flat, or the villa on the outskirts of the city you’d visited a handful of times when he couldn’t meet you at his temple, but instead, you found yourself standing in front of one of the tallest, brightest hotels you’d ever seen. “It is a special occasion,” he said, as you stared blankly at the entrance. “I wouldn’t be a good husband if I didn’t spoil my wife now and then, right?”

“Please,” you muttered, nearly under your breath. “Don’t call me that.”

“Whatever you say, my love.” His smile was giddier than you’d ever seen it, amusement heavy in his voice. “Let me give you a hand.”

The interior was no less agonizing than the exterior. You could feel a hundred pairs of eyes burning into you as you hung off Surugu’s arm, your own legs too weak to be trusted to support you. Rather than relief, dread coiled in the pit of your stomach as he led you to your room – a suite on the highest floor. You considered, briefly, trying to tell him that you were afraid of heights, but decided against it. Even in your own head, it sounded too childish to be believable, and you couldn’t imagine dragging this out for a second longer than it absolutely had to be.

You stepped into the room and were immediately reminded that Suguru had been the one to make the arrangements. A bottle of wine sat in a bucket of ice on a velvet-cushioned ottoman. Bouquets of roses and their disembodied petals had been carefully spread across every possible surface – painting the room with misshapen splotches of bright red. A colorless atrocity of white silk and lace had been laid across the king-sized bed. You got close enough to recognize it for what it was (bridal lingerie, veil and all) before turning away and collapsing onto the foot of the bed, your vision blurry and your heart racing.

You felt your mouth go dry, your throat tighten, but you forced yourself to speak. You wouldn’t have been able to stand the silence. “Am I—” A pause, a distraught glance towards the monstrosity. “Am I supposed to wear that?”

“I might’ve been a little overzealous,” he admitted, stepping in front of you. Slowly, he lowered himself onto one knee, taking your hands in his. “I’ll be gentle, if that’s what you’re worried about. The only thing I want you to feel is pleasure.” He brought the underside of your wrist to his lips. “I love you.”

You couldn’t be sure what it was. How sincere he sounded, maybe, or how young he looked kneeling in front of you, away from his temple and out of his costume. He kissed the back of your hand, and a ragged sob tore past your lips, all the tears you hadn’t been able to shed during the ceremony suddenly beading in the corners of your eyes. As you tried to keep them at bay with your free hand, Suguru’s smile wavered, and for the first time that you’d seen, fell away completely.

He posed the question softly, carefully. You wished he would’ve been just a little more eager to break you. At least, then, you could’ve hated him for it. “…you really don’t want to do this, do you?”

There was no point trying to lie. You shook your head and watched as Suguru deflated. His eyes had always been dark, but in that moment, you could’ve sworn they’d never seen any light at all.

Before you could brace yourself, his mouth crashed into yours with enough force to bruise. You tasted blood, felt his tongue rake over yours; whatever gentleness he’d promised to show you little more than a distant fantasy. As his mouth moved against yours, his hand slipped under your dress – two fingers dragging over your slit through your panties before his thumb found your clit through the thin material and he pushed a rough, impulsive pattern into the sensitive bud. You shrunk into yourself, your hands finding their way to his chest before you could stop yourself from trying to push him away, but Suguru didn’t seem to care, to notice. Your panties were torn away entirely, and like a man possessed, he fell back to his knees between your open legs and started to devour you whole.

Your thighs were pulled onto his shoulders, his hands curled around your hips as the flat of his tongue laved over your slit, teasing the entrance of your pussy and flicking over your clit. He alternated between tracing vague figure-eights into your cunt and lapping up the slick starting to drip from your poor, confused pussy – your exhausted body eager to accept any affection Suguru had to show you, if you could even call what he was forcing onto your affection. You tried to reach for him, to pull him away from, but you failed to so much as make contact before he let out a near-violent snarl, calloused fingertips burrowing into vulnerable flesh as he pulled you that much closer, hauling your ass off the bed and leaving you on your back, your arms crossed over your face and your ankles crossed over his back. You sobbed openly, now, but your disparate cries were interrupted by cracked whimpers and half-swallowed mewls – little, pathetic sounds you didn’t have the strength to suppress. Suguru didn’t stop. Honestly, you would’ve been surprised if he could hear you at all over the sound of his own heady panting, of his tongue fucking into your now-soaked cunt.

You almost regretted not taking him back to your flat that first night – when he kissed you like you were the most delicate thing in the world. If you’d given in right away, he might’ve had the self-restraint to hold back. Or, to try to, at least.

One of his hands left your waist, falling low enough for the pad of his thumb to press into your clit. Messily, roughly, he toyed with the hyper-sensitive bundle of nerves as his tongue thrust shallowly into your cunt, curling and splitting apart the hot, clenching walls of your pussy. You felt a deep, full-chested moan reverberate up the length of your spine, and that was enough to leave you tumbling over the edge, to leave your thighs clenching around his head as you came undone on his tongue. He ate you out through the aftershocks, but didn’t stop - fucking you open with his tongue until you’d stumbled through another climax, then another, a mix of slick and saliva soon coating his chin and staining the sheets below you. By the time he pulled away, you were crying not from despair, but overstimulation; pangs of pure heat searing your nerves and leaving your cunt aching for reprieve. You were only vaguely aware of the mattress dipping beside you, of his chest pressing into yours as he kissed you for what felt like the hundredth time. As his lips pressed into yours, you decided that, if tonight was the last time you ever had to kiss someone, it wouldn’t be so bad. Not when compared to the alternative.

“I love you,” he mumbled, and then again as he pulled away, “I love you.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Your voice felt like something you were no longer entitled to use; a vague concept that’d been placed at an inconceivable distance by some cruel deity. Through half-lidded eyes, you saw Suguru bare his teeth in frustration. Your dress wasn’t so much removed as it was torn away from you, and you couldn’t help but wither without it. Modesty could only count so much when you could still see your arousal coating his lips, but still, it hurt.

With an arm wrapped around your waist, he pulled you into the center of the bed and haphazardly dragged his shirt over his head. You shouldn’t have been surprised. You’d seen his bare arms plenty of times, watched him lift Nanako and Mimiko clean off the ground without so much as a trace of strain, and yet, something inside of you still curled up and died as your eyes raked over his sculpted chest, the corded muscle that seemed to cover every inch of him. More out of shock than anything, you moved to sit up, to put some distance between yourself and a man who looked like he could’ve torn your head off your shoulders on a whim, but he was quick to stop you, to press a palm into your chest and force you back onto the bed. With his other hand, he dragged his pants down just far enough to free his cock and, instantly, whatever desolation you might’ve felt at the sight of his bare chest was multiplied ten-fold.

You didn’t realize you were shaking your head until you moved to speak, your voice shaking and small. “That’s not going to—”

“It will.” That authority – that tone of absolute control – was back in full force. Still, you couldn’t seem to make yourself believe him. “I won’t stop until it does.”

Your heart fell into your stomach as he dragged his swollen, leaking tip over your pussy – the flushed head catching on your abused clit and drawing an airy whimper past your lips. He was, by far, the biggest man you’d ever seen, let alone slept with. As if that wasn’t enough, he was already harder than you knew someone could be – thick, pearly beads dripping from his tip and down his shaft, his more prominent veins almost pulsing as he aligned with your entrance. Even his balls were fucking huge.

Fit for a breeder, something vicious and awful whispered into the back of your mind. You tried to ignore it, but you couldn’t disagree.

Your eyes darted to his expression and met his, already blearily focused on you. You opened your mouth, but anything you might’ve said was stolen away from you as his hips bucked forward and he thrust into you, bottoming out in the same motion.

You’d been right, when you’d tried to stop him.

He was going to kill you.

Already, he was too much. A fresh wave of tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as his cock threatened to tear you apart. Suguru let out a raspy groan, his head falling forward and he drew back, pulling out of you until only his head remained in your pussy only to snap his hip and bury himself that much deeper, only to stretch you that much further. “See?” One his hands fell to your lower stomach, the heel of his palm pressing into the soft flesh like he could feel the outline of his cock. He might’ve been able to. You were too scared to check. “You’re a perfect fit.”

There was another grunt, another breathy groan as he fell into an unsteady pace – every thrust brutal and back-breaking. His hands found their way to the headboard, curling around its upper edge as he fucked into you. He didn’t so much find the right spot as find a way to hit every spot constantly, his cock filling your pussy to the brim, leaving you desperately trying to clench down around him to no avail. A high-pitched whine – fractured and pathetic – tore past your lips, and Suguru let out an airy chuckle. “Not gonna be able to get enough of this.” His pubic bone scraped against your clit and you threw your head back, your back arching off of the mattress. Your sensitivity was rewarded with another laugh, a hand brought down just to grope idly at your chest. “I can’t let you out of my sight, from now own. I think I’ll lose my mind if I have to go a day without feeling this perfect pussy wrapped around my cock.”

It was hard to think, let alone piece two words together. Still, you managed to spit something out, fighting to speak above the sound of skin against skin, hips against hips. “B-but, you said— the baby—”

“Fuck the baby. This—” He slapped your clit, his touch harsh enough to make you cry out. “—is all mine.”

A hand around your throat, a new brutality to his thrusts. His grip wasn’t tight, he wasn’t choking you, and yet, you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t think about anything other than his cock and the feeling of your cunt being split open around it. “You’re mine.” If you hadn’t known better, you would’ve thought he sounded relieved. “And you always will be.”

Meeting Suguru had been a mistake. Asking for his help had been a mistake. Agreeing to this terrible deal had been a mistake.

But, cumming around his cock as that final possessive sentiment trickled past his lips was the biggest mistake you’d ever made or ever would make, again.

Your cunt clamped down around him – a vice around his cock. With your fists balled around satin sheets and your legs wrapped around his waist, your body convulsed underneath his, your pussy doing everything in its limited power to milk him dry. You heard Suguru curse under his breath, his hips pushing flush against yours as something thick and searing flooded into your cunt. What little managed to leak out around the base of his cock was caught with two fingers and forced back in; no drop wasted.

With a heavy exhale, Suguru dipped lower, his lips grazing over your cheek, then the curve of your neck. You shut your eyes, letting yourself deflate. It was over. No matter how you might’ve felt, no matter how much you might’ve wanted to crawl out of your skin, it was ov—

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he pulled out of you, only to push back in; his rough, punishing pace only made slightly more bearably by the weight of his orgasm.

The next morning, you’d wake up to Suguru’s arm around your waist and a pregnancy test on the bedside table. It’d be too early to tell, but you wouldn’t bother to so much as open the box. Nothing could’ve kept Suguru from trying again, and again, and again in the days to follow.

Come to think of it, you couldn’t be sure if he ever stopped.

~

“How long is this supposed to last?”

Megumi and Tsumiki were walking a few yards ahead of you, stopping to stare into every other shop window before running ahead, and Himari was currently tucked against Satoru’s chest, occupying herself with a thorough (albeit, mostly oral) investigation of the collar of his shirt. You couldn’t cook and Satoru refused to do much of anything before noon, so the only choice left was to chase after promises of crepe trucks and cafes. Your question earned a hum, a glance toward you, but not much more. As little as you liked about Satoru, you were thankful he had such an even temper. Suguru was never so slow to react.

“Forever, preferably,” he answered, with a slight shrug. “Or until I die, at least – sorcerers have a pretty high mortality rate. I’m the best at what I do, but even the strongest ant gets crushed eventually.” He paused, pressed a quick kiss into the top of Himari’s head. “I’ll make sure to leave a big trust fund, though. You’re gonna be living off your daddy for a long, long time.”

You let your eyes fall to the sidewalk. “You don’t have to pretend you care about her. I know you’re only doing this because of him.”

If he’d denied it immediately, you wouldn’t have believed him. If he’d sworn that Suguru had nothing to do with it, if he’d dropped to his knees in front of you, if he’d told you that he loved you, you wouldn’t have believed him. But, in the end, he only pursed his lips, his head lulling to the side as he considered it. “At first, yeah,” he admitted, tracing patterns into Himari’s back. “I heard that he’d gotten with someone and… I got curious. I guess I was a little jealous.” He paused, his tone abrupt going light and sheepish. “I might’ve gone a little overboard, in retrospect – making the brats go to your school and following you around and all. I just wanted to see what kind of person could make Suguru go soft, but then I saw how you were with the little princess—” He lifted Himari above his head, grinning up at her while she spouted happy gibberish. “—and fell for you, head over heels. All I could think about was gathering you both up in my arms and takin’ you home.”

“You make us sound like stray animals.”

“I mean, you kind of are, right?” You jutted your elbow into his side, and he rolled his eyes dramatically. “Okay, okay, you’re runaways. I didn’t know you were so pedantic, (Y/n).”

 He slotted Himari against his hip, his attention momentarily falling away from her as he shot a quick, teasing smile in your direction. “I like you.” His voice was soft, dull – like he was saying something you didn’t already know. Like he was giving something away. “And I want you to stick around.”

“I’m sure Suguru would’ve said the same thing.”

“I’m not like Suguru.” He found your hand, his fingers soon intertwined with yours. “I wouldn’t let you go so easily.”

You opened your mouth, but closed it again just as quickly. Ahead of you, Tsumiki turned on her heel and waved excitedly. She’d picked a café (presumably with minimal input from Megumi); a picturesque little spot with a sun-speckled patio and overgrown garden boxes. Satoru’s hand tightened around yours, tugging you forward, and just this time, you didn’t bother trying to pull away.

~

The man on his knees in front of you was older – his hair receding and dotted with grey. A salaryman, you guessed, judging by his wrinkled suit, the ink stains on his sleeves. You couldn’t see his expression, not with his forehead pressed against the floor of Suguru’s sanctuary, but you could hear the pain in his voice as he pled for Suguru’s help, see the slight tremble in his shoulders. You didn’t have to assume the cause of his distress.

You couldn’t be sure when you started to see the spirits – or, the curses, you mean. It must’ve been around the end of the first trimester; your little glimpses at crooked monsters and mangled beasts solidifying into full, unrelenting exposure. Suguru suggested (after he’d finished celebrating what he would, later on, refer to as the best day of his life) that it might be a symptom of the pregnancy, that carrying a sorcerer’s child may’ve triggered some pocket of laden cursed energy buried inside of you, but you couldn’t help but think of it as some kind of cosmic punishment, even if you couldn’t begin to guess what you were being punished for.

It had to be a punishment, though. If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be watching a small swarm of winged, imp-like creatures bite and scratch at the cowering salaryman, each swipe of their claws and nip of their pointed teeth enough to leave ragged, bloody stripes in his arms, his back. You felt bile rise into the back of your throat, but forced yourself not to shut your eyes, to keep your expression one of unbothered neutrality. Suguru would help him, just like he helped you.

As if by way of encouragement, you let your nails scrape over his scalp. After you started showing, the only job Suguru deemed you capable of was that of his new headrest. He took care of everything else – petitioning for maternity leave, moving you out of your flat and into the villa he shared with his girls, rewriting every little aspect of your life to better the role you’d inhabit for the next nine months: his pregnant wife. Currently, he was on his side, on leg bent at the knee and his head propped on your thighs, your fingers threaded through his hair. You’d cringed at the idea, at first, but Suguru insisted that it wouldn’t be an issue. The perks of leading your own cult, you guessed. No one could challenge his authority when he was the only authority they could possibly look to.

After a moment longer than you would’ve liked, Suguru cut off the salaryman’s incoherent rambling with a slight hum. Immediately, the salaryman fell silent, and Suguru let his head lull to the side, leaning into your palm. “Manami,” he started, addressing his assistant. She’d been called in shortly after the salaryman made his entrance. “How long has it been since our honored sponsor’s last donation?”

She glanced toward her tablet. “It’ll be five months this week.”

The salaryman scrambled to apologize. “I—I’m sorry, my store went out of business, and I—”

The corner of Suguru’s lips quirked downward. The entirety of the swarm descended onto the salaryman before you could so much as flinch away.

To say they tore him apart would be an understatement. One second, he was there, bowing in front of you, and the next, little more scraps of fabric and disembodied viscera decorated the floor of the sanctuary. Suguru snapped his fingers and, in an instant, the creatures vanished – leaving behind only gore and the thick stench of copper hanging in the stagnant air. Your hand stilled in Suguru’s hair. You might’ve passed out, if you’d been able to process what you’d just watched.

Suguru took notice of your distress quickly. That, or he just wanted to bask in his kill more privately. “If I could be alone with my wife for a moment, Manami.”

Her eyes flickered to you, lingering for a moment before she bowed her head. “Of course, Geto-sama. I’ll fetch someone to clean up this mess.”

Once she was gone, Suguru rolled onto his back, letting his eyes fall shut. “These fucking monkeys,” he sighed, with a shake of his head. “I swear, they’ll be the death of me. They can’t even seem to die without causing more trouble than they’re worth.”

“You can control them?”

“You’re going to have to be more specific, dear.”

“The spirits.” And then again, with more urgency, “You can control them?”

His exasperation was swiftly replaced with self-satisfaction so potent, you could nearly taste it. “Would you expect anything less from me? Only a handful are strong enough to be helpful, but even pests can be put to good use.”

You felt like an idiot for asking. You felt like an idiot for having to ask, but you just couldn’t seem to stop yourself. “My spirit. The one I came to you for.” It felt like your tongue was coated in salt and ask. “Was he one of the stronger spirits?”

A beat lapsed in silence, then another.

Finally, Suguru let out a long, raspy exhale and brought a hand to your stomach. “I hope it’s a girl,” he muttered, almost absent-mindedly. “I hope she looks just like you.”

You took a single, stilted breath.

When you met your daughter a few months later, impossibly tiny and infinitely lovable and so agonizingly helpless, it would almost be a relief to see Suguru’s face staring back at you.

~

“She has your eyes.”

You heard his voice before you saw his face, but you would’ve known Suguru from aura alone. You froze in the doorway of the unlit nursery, searching for him in the darkness, but Suguru didn’t make himself hard to find.

“Not the color, but the shape.” He was standing next to the cradle, a soft smile painted across his lips and your daughter in his arms. She was sleeping, and you were thankful for it. You’d kept Himari away from him as much as you’d been able to in the weeks leading up to your escape, but even their minimal exposure had seemed crushing, at the time. Above all else, you never wanted your daughter to be able to recognize her father’s face. “Oh, but she must have my temperament. I’ve heard she rarely cries, even with nuisances like Satoru around.”

You’d left your phone in the living room. Satoru wasn’t home and he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning, but maybe, if you screamed, someone would hear you. Maybe, you’d be able to run while Suguru tore them apart, limb by limb.

In the end, it was all you could do to make yourself speak – your voice thin and prone to catching in your throat. “Get out of my apartment.”

“But this isn’t your apartment, is it?” With a quiet, hushing sound, he lowered Himari back into her cradle and turned to face you. “Honestly, if I’d known you were just going to run into another man’s arms, I would’ve been more careful with you. I wonder if you’ll feel more loyal to your husband with a chain around your neck.”

“You manipulated me. You made me have a ba—”

“I loved you.” He cut you off with all the delicacy of a rusty knife sawing through flesh. “I do love you, even if I’m starting to question how much of it you deserve.”

He stepped forward. You wanted to turn away from him, to run, but your body was uncooperative, too rigid to do anything more than shake as he came to stand in front of you. “Can you say it back to me? Just this once.” He brought a hand to your cheek. “I’ll forgive you for everything, if you do.”

You tried to. Not for him, but for your daughter – made expendable by her failure to keep you bound to Suguru. You tried to, but all that slipped past your parted lips was a wordless cry, torn and anguished and far from what he’d asked for.

“No?” He feigned disappointment, letting out an airy sigh. “I guess that’s to be expected.”

He took a deep breath, then rested his head against the dip of your shoulder. His hand fell to your stomach as he spoke into your skin.

“Maybe, after we have our second, you’ll change your mind.”

[readychilledwine]

Mine

Summary - Cassian always gets a little riled up when he gets to fight for your honor.

Warnings - Blood, smut, focus on reader and Cassian's differences physically, reader is thick because it felt right, oral (female receiving), Cassian going to pound town.

A/N - based on this post and our comments from @loneliestluvr I refuse to apologize for how quickly this became smut.

Being mated to the Lord of Bloodshed was never easy, especially as an illyrian female blessed to have found him before your wings were taken. “Sorry,” you whispered as he flinched. You had got to the cut on his eyebrow, wiping it down as gently as you could.

Cassian was covered in blood. A mix of his own and another male's who had not known you were claimed by the male sitting in front of you. “You okay?” He had his eyes shut as you took care of him, content under the feel of your soft hands.

“You're the one who ended up in a fight with 6 other males and walked away. I should be asking you that.” You gently reset and healed his nose, silently thanking the Mother for such a useful gift.

Everything about you two had been so perfectly planned. The skilled warrior. Loud, personable, quick on his feet. Then you, the talented healer. Intelligent, shy, soft spoken. You were balanced perfectly. A match truly made by the Gods. You continued wiping the blood from him, ensuring he would not have to change the water multiple times once you got him bathed and stepped away before offering him your hand.

It was another contrast between you two and Cassian's absolute favorite. Your soft manicured hands, his rough and calloused ones. He laced your fingers together, pretending to allow you to pull him up at he stood. “I'm fine, baby. You should see the other guys.” He smiled at his own joke, walking into the bathroom of the cabin. “Are you going to undress me too?”

“Absolutely.” You were graceful with buckle, each tie, gently pulling armor and fabric from his body until it sat on the vanity nearby. Habit took over as you folded it all, putting the clothing into baskets to be cleaned before turning back to the god in fae form behind you.

The moan Cassian released as he sunk into the warm water had your thighs clenching. You watched his head fall back as lavender scented steam came from the tub and as his shoulders fell in relaxation. “Can I wash your hair?” He groaned again at the thought, smiling as you sat behind him with the soap. “Need to show you my love and appreciation for protecting me.”

He gave a breathy laugh, shutting his eyes in bliss as you began massaging shampoo into his wavy locks. “I will always protect you, y/n. Always. You are mine.”

“I am,” he growled at your agreement, his need to possess you was high. Illyrians had always been more feral with their bonds, and you absolutely allowed him to enjoy the primal tendencies that came with it. “I will always be yours. In this life and the next.” You began rinsing his hair, ensuring every spec of blood and dirt was out before applying a deep conditioner.

“Lean forward so I can wash your back, Cassian.”

“I don't deserve you,” he was drifting off under your touch, enjoying the feeling of you kneading sore muscles as you lathered his scarred skin with a soft scented soap. “Could you get my wings?”

You leaned in, whispering in his ear. “I planned on getting them once I got you fully cleaned and the water changed.”

“Fuck that,” Cassian forced you over, pulling you in thin night gown and all before ripping it off of you. His lips were on yours and hungry. He was grabbing your hips, loving their plushy feel. “Want you now.”

“Cass, this water is disgusting.”

His head hit the tub with a thud. “Fine. Fine. It's fine.” He was, in fact, not fine. You could feel how hard he was. His length was pressing into your stomach. “I just need you. You know how I get when you take care of me.”

You were washing him again. Cleaning off his chest and face, scrubbing his arms. He was memorized by you by your body. He remembered learning about the Gods of old from Rhysand's mother, and you had to have been crafted by the goddess of love. It was another contrast. His rock-hard body, toned and cut from years of training. Your soft body, curves landing in all the right places, thighs so thick you genuinely worried when you sat on his face.

He lifted you with little effort when he knew he was clean, climbing out of the water with his lips attached to the point on your neck that drove you wild. “Done waiting,” he carried you to the bedroom, sucking that spot until he knew a deep purple mark would form.

He threw you down on the bed, not caring that it would soak the sheets and mattress as he watched your full breasts bounce. When he was like this, you knew you were in for a ride. Knew that headboard wouldn't be enough to keep you in place as he pounded into you over and over again, only content when he had ensured you were filled and would smell like him and sex for weeks. He was studying you like you were his prey, waiting to pounce at just the right time.

He found it as you shifted, laying down more on the pillows like the queen he knew you were. He did not bother kissing your lips again. Instead, it was him instantly pulling your legs over his shoulders and licking your already soaked core. Your hands shot to his hair, moans ripping through your throat. He was eager tonight. So damn eager.

“Cassian,” he hummed against you, looking up through hooded lust filled eyes. “Slow down.”

He shook his head, not even letting your clit out of his mouth as he did. “Baby, I'm going to cum if you don't go slower.” His brows shot up and a smirk formed. It spoke of every intention he had, you would not leave this bed, not without him carrying you.

Every flick of his tongue, every long drag, the soft kisses all had you melting further Into the mattress as your nerves came to life. Cassian was as calculated in bed as he was on a battlefield. Everything was precise, done with intention, and meant to fulfill his goal. His forearm went against your hips, locking you in place at his mercy.

He could feel every wave of pleasure from you shooting down that sacred and special bond. He could sense the moment you fell. Your fingers tightened on the sheets, your back arched, it was silence before the scream. Between your own pleasure, you could feel his pride leaking down the bond. Pride with how easily he could pull you apart with nothing more than his tongue. Pride over the way your body was so easily his.

He only pulled away when you began to whimper and push, but he was instantly crashing his lips on yours as he kicked off his pants. His forehead went to yours once you were both breathless. Those Hazel eyes you melted in the gaze of were feral and dark with desire. In one smooth motion with no warning, Cassian was inside of you with one single word, “Mine.”

There was no split second of calm before the storm, no moment to catch your breath after he took it from you. Cassian began to pound into you, hitting that perfect spot and making you see stars. Your nails dug into his chest, leaving small marks to join the littering scars and cuts from his earlier fight. “Mine,” the growl was deep, an ancient part of him almost begging for affirmation of the word.

“Yours,” you moaned out for him, back arching as your stomach tightened. “All yours.” Cassian's arm went across your back, hand roughly gripping your hips he could force you to move exactly how he wanted.

You could hardly breathe, mind lost to anything but Cassian. Your mate. Your everything. You could feel him down the bond, feel him getting closer with each squeeze and twitch of your walls. The room was thick with the scent of sex and sweat, the sound of his groans and you whispering and moaning his name like a prayer to some long forgotten God. “So fucking beautiful,” his free hand forced your head up, forcing you to watch as his cock slid in and out of your core, soaked in your essence. “Watch me fuck you. Watch me mark this pretty perfect pussy as mine.”

You couldn't help but to moan, feeling that edge approaching faster and faster with his. “Cassie.”

“Do it. Cum on my cock, baby.” He let you go limp below him, placing your head back on the pillows gently as he did. Wave after wave of need and pleasure washed over you, blinding your senses to anything but the feel of Cassian filling you as you Came around him. He fucked you through the high before finally finishing, not even bothering to pull out and opting to instead hold your hips so close to his you could not even tell where he began and you ended.

When he finally let you go, he barely caught himself before collapsing on top of you as his exhaustion hit him. You could help but place soft kissed along his face. His scarred brow and lip, his nose that you'd reset and healed so many times, his jaw. You finally sighed with one last lingering kiss directly on his full lips as he smiled. “That was faster than I hoped it would be.”

“Always is when you fuck me after fighting.”

“Always yours.”

He kissed your neck softly on the mark he made, whispering one last time. “Mine.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects

[dreaming-medium]

Stray Kids Kinktober Day 9

Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist

A/B/O - Lee Know

Word Count: 11.1 K

Summary: It’s not your fault the Orange Needle Lily only grows in a protected part of the forest. While trying to gather ingredients, you’re confronted by a pack desperate for a healer to aid their injured pack member.

—————————————————————————

Running, you were running. Sweat is pouring down your back and the sides of your face. But, there’s no time to stop and wipe it off. 

Trees whipped past you with every step, branches caught on your clothes and tore small rips in the fabric, some leaving small slices in your skin. 

But that was the least of your worries right now. 

You knew you shouldn’t have been here. You knew.

How else were you going to get the ingredients you need? The Orange Needle Lily only grew in a remote area of the Enchanted Forest. 

A very well protected area of the Enchanted Forest. 

Normally, when you made these trips, you were able to sneak in, pick a large bundle of lilies and then slip out unnoticed. 

But from the rain yesterday, the ground was still damp, so you slipped and fell and made one of the loudest noises of your life. 

Every single nerve in your body lit up with fear the second it happened. Growls and howls sounded in the distance. 

So, you took off. 

The snarls have only gotten louder the farther you run from the original area. 

Everyone in the Kingdom knew to stay away from that area of the Enchanted Forest. The wolf pack that lives there has made their mark very clearly. Do not enter their land. 

And you fucked up.

Loud, heavy, galloping thuds gain on you. 

Your eyes scan the woods wildly to search for any sign of familiarity. Are you even running the right way back to your village?

A log is in your way so you hurdle over the top of it. 

You need to keep going. 

Run, run, run. Keep running. Don’t look back. If you look back for even a second you’re dead meat. 

A bone chilling bark comes from right behind you, two over snarls respond to it. 

Your village is so close, you can smell the fresh bread being baked. 

A dark figure jumps out in front of you and cuts off your path. 

You scream and backpedal to get away from its gleaming yellow eyes. 

When you turn around you see another dark figure already behind you. 

Your mouth opens and closes a few times, pleas for your life are stuck in your mouth. 

When the dark figures get closer, you realize they’re two enormous wolves. Of course the pack was chasing you. Of fucking course. 

Faster and faster your heart begins to beat. You gulp, hands clutching at your skirts to keep them hiked up. 

There’s two wolves encroaching closer and closer. Didn’t you hear three seats of snarls?

“Please,” you beg, your throat getting tighter and tighter with unshed tears of fear. “I was only trying to collect Orange Needle Lilies, look.”

To prove your point, you turn to reach into the pouch that’s hanging around your body. 

The wolf in front of you lets out a bone chilling bark. You yelp in response, hands flying up away from your body to show you mean no harm. 

“I am so sorry,” you plead, closing your eyes in fear and shrinking in on yourself. “I am a healer!”

With shaky knees, you take a step backwards and the wolf behind you growls. 

There’s a long series of snaps and a whoosh to your left. Your head snaps over to look but the wolves keep their eyes on you like prey. 

“You are a healer?” A male voice asks from behind a tree. 

“Yes! I am from Beckinsale. Please, I mean you no harm.” Tears form in the corners of your eyes. “Orange Needle Lilies only grow within your lands. Please, I mean you no harm. I need them for a tonic.”

From behind a tree, a man with jet black hair and fair skin steps out. He’s only wearing tattered shorts on his muscular body. Dark brown eyes study you carefully. 

“How high is your skill?” He asks with a raised brow. 

“Very,” you answer quickly. “I am the village healer. All ailments are brought to me.”

He thinks for a moment, keeping his eyes trained on you. “Can you cure infections?”

“Yes, if I have the proper ingredients.”

Why is he asking?

Suddenly, the larger of the two wolves barks at the man and growls after. 

“Easy, Changbin,” the man says. “She can heal Minho.”

The other wolf huffs, rolling its amber eyes. 

“You have an injury among you?” Your hands grab at the strap of your pouch nervously. 

“Aye, we believe it to be an infection.” He shuffles a bit. “Do you think you could take a look?”

A loud huff comes from behind you.

“What other option do we have?” The man grits out between his teeth to the wolf. 

The wolf snorts once more.

The man stares directly into your eyes, “You are coming with us. And you’re going to heal our packmate.”

Chills rip down your body, danger is licking at the back of your neck. Your eyebrows pinch together and you swallow nervously.

“Are you going to kill me?” you whisper meagerly. 

The man laughs, “We will see once our friend is healed, won’t we, Omega?”

Your jaw clenches with fear at the mention of your secondary gender. 

Orange Needle Lilies were used for a specific purpose: scent blockers. Just this morning you had run out of your tonic without realizing your supply of the flower had run out. 

The trip was necessary if you had hoped to block your scent at all. 

But with the small amount of the blocker tonic and the sheer volume of sweat dripping down your body, there was no way you were going to be able to block your scent. Especially not from a wolf pack. 

Lycans’ sense of smell were more powerful than humans. It’s most likely that even if you had put on the full amount of blocker, they would still be able to pick up on your scent.

“Come on, then,” the man says to you and there’s a sharp nudge at your back. One of the wolves was pushing you forward with his snout.

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

The man, who you now know is named Seungmin, walks on your left. The wolf known as Changbin is on your right, and Seungmin told you that the other wolf’s name is Hyunjin.

Neither of you have said a word since then, he just continues to lead you through the Enchanted Forest away from your village.

“You must have a death wish. An omega prancing into a pack’s known territory all by herself.” Seungmin breaks the silence.

“I told you it is the only place the Orange Needle Lily grows,” you murmur, clutching your satchel closer to your body.

“And it is worth your life?”

You answer without hesitating. “Aye.” The next sentence comes out quieter. “A scent blocking tonic saves the life of an unmarked omega.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the three sets of eyes shift to side-eye you. You keep your eyes forward and keep walking. 

Eventually, you make it to a small clearing in the woods. Four different hut-like houses sat in a semi-circle. There was a garden off to the side with fresh fruits and vegetables, tables and a spit for cooking over.

“Seungmin!” A voice called over. It sent chills down your spine. Nervously, you look over to see a larger man stalking towards you.

Golden eyes trained on you with an overprotective glint to them. The wind carries past him and his scent wraps around your mind.

Pine and bergamot floods your system. Alpha . He is a pure-blood alpha. 

You can’t hold his eye contact, you immediately look down at your shoes in the dirt. Instincts take over and you curl in on yourself in his overbearing presence.

“Who is this?” He growls when he gets closer to you.

“A healer.”

“You brought a stranger into our den?”

“I brought a healer to heal Minho.”

So many scents of different wolves wrap around your brain and overwhelm your senses. Alphas and betas, all of them, but no omegas. At least, none that you’re able to smell.

“She is not getting near Minho.”

“Chan, he is going to die if we do not have him healed!” Seungmin barks back at his alpha.

The pheromones that pour out of them make your skin crawl. Seungmin is only a beta, and yet he is standing up to his alpha so confidently.

He stands nose to nose with Chan, keeping his eye contact. Chan bares his teeth.

The same crackling and whooshing noise comes from behind you.

“Chan, someone needs to heal him. Our remedies are not working.” Changbin says to him.

Chan doesn’t break eye contact with Seungmin, but Seungmin doesn’t back down either.

“He will pull through, we do not need a healer.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and keep your eyes on the dirt. Your voice comes out weak. “What are you using on his wound?”

Chan’s head snaps over to you. “It does not matter to you.”

“Your protective nature will be the death of him!” Seungmin hisses. “Let her heal him before we all lose him.”

Chan bristles and snarls at Seungmin, but he doesn’t flinch away, he stands firm in his stance.

“We are crushing up Snow Weed and laying the paste on the wound.” Hyunjin answers you finally. 

You look up at the beta with alarmed eyes. “That will only create a cover over the wound, you are trapping the infection inside his system with no exit!”

Alarmed, you look over at Chan, who is eyeing you closely. “If there truly is an infection, your packmate is in dire need of care. Please, let me heal him. I mean you all no harm.”

The alpha stares at you. Ignoring your instincts, you hold his searing eye contact.

“Chan,” Seungmin draws his attention. Chan doesn’t look away from you but turns his chin slightly towards Seungmin to show he’s listening. “It is our only option.”

The alpha thinks for a long moment before he speaks. “You will heal him, then you will leave.”

“Aye, as you wish.”

“If you harm a hair on my packmate’s head, we will kill you, understood?”

You gulp. “Aye, understood.”

He eyes you closely for four more heartbeats. “Come then, omega.”

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

You could smell the infection before you saw it; you were also able to hear the sound of shallow, wheeze-like breathing the moment you stepped foot inside the hut.

A man lay on a bed in the back of the hut, a blanket covering him. A damp towel sat on his forehead to try and keep him cool. His eyes were squinted shut in pain, mouth open to intake each pathetic pant and gasp for air.

A thick layer of sweat covered his flushed face.

When you rounded the corner and took another step towards him, another person stepped in front of you with bared teeth. A beta– and a protective one at that. 

“She is here to heal Minho, Jisung. Back off.” Seungmin called out quickly.  

Jisung’s jaw clenches and he hesitates for a moment before taking a step away from you. 

Quickly, you walk over to the edge of the bed. You go to reach for the blankets, but you stop your hands over the top. 

You turn around and look at Chan, at the Alpha of the pack. “May I?”

His gaze softens for a moment at your sign of respect. Chan nods and you turn back, slowly peeling back the covers. 

Minho’s eyes squint tighter and he winces in pain. 

The gauze wrapped around his stomach is already soaked through with pus and blood. 

Your heart drops to your gut and you place your satchel of healing ingredients on the bed next to him. 

“I’m going to cut the gauze off,” you say out loud to the room before picking up a small dagger. 

The air thickens in the room as your fingers curl around the weapon. Gingerly, you reach forward and slice through the soaked bandages. 

Minho groans in pain and squirms a bit, he’s awake, but obviously feverish. Placing your hand on his cheek, it’s like you put your hands over a fire, he’s burning up. 

Once the gauze is off a gasp catches in your throat. Yes, the wound is covered in crushed Snow Weed, but the infection is leaking out all around it. 

The skin surrounding the wound is purple and angry. How has he survived this long?

“What happened to make him this way?” You asked, inspecting the wound. 

“Arrow wound,” Jisung answers quickly. “He told no one about it until he suddenly collapsed in pain days later. The infection had already taken root by that time.”

You look up at his face, twisted in pain. So, he’s a stubborn bastard. 

“I am going to need a fresh pale of water and a clean rag. Do any of you know of the Dusk Tulip?”

When you receive no response, you turn around and look over your shoulder. Five lycans stare back at you blankly. 

“Do any of you know what a Tulip looks like?”

Hyunjin nods. You zero in on him. “It is a Tulip that grows at the base of Maple trees. Dark purple in color. I need as many as you can get me.”

Hyunjin nods and immediately turns around to sprint out of the shack. 

Jisung moves quickly as well, gathering fresh water and a rag for you. 

You move briskly, dipping the rag in the cold water and ringing out the excess. 

“Hail, Minho,” you say to him. He doesn’t acknowledge you, but you know he can hear you. “My name is Y/N, I am the village healer for Beckinsale. And I apologize, this is not going to feel pleasant at all.”

Taking a deep breath, you bring the cloth down to wipe away the Snow Weed coating and the infection that’s seeping out. 

Minho grunts and tenses up. 

With great care, you clean his wound. The coolness of the water brings a slight bit of relief to his feverish skin. 

“Jisung,” you say without looking over at him. “Can you fetch a second pail of water, please?”

Wordlessly, he walks away to grab it. 

Chan has not left the corner of the room, he watches you work on Minho wordlessly. His amber gaze scrutinizes every single move you make. 

With the wound cleaned off, you watch as the outside edges go from purple to a deep red. You’re giving the wound a few moments to breathe before taking the next step. 

The pail of fresh water is placed next to you. You thank Jisung and dip the new, clean rag into it. 

You take the sweat covered rag off Minho’s forehead and begin to dab away at his flushed skin. His breathing is extremely labored and hot against your bare arm. 

You let your eyes roam over his face. Even pulled in pain, he’s absolutely gorgeous.

The rag with cold water runs all over his face. He keens and leans into it, eyes still closed. Your fingers push his hair off his forehead. 

“Chan,” you address the alpha. “You may need to hold him down as I draw the infection out.”

“It will hurt?”

You bite your lip and look down at Minho’s pained face. “Aye, very much so.”

Chan’s boots thud against the wooden floor as he approaches the bed.

“Apologies, Minho. Please know my intentions are not ill.”

Reluctantly, you move away from Minho’s side after placing the fresh, water soaked rag on his forehead. 

Chan stands over Minho, hands hovering over his shoulders, ready to grab him. 

You move your palms to slightly waver over the wound. Slowly, your eyes shut and you concentrate on the energy within you. 

Your hands begin to heat up and emanate a soft, yellow glow. 

Within a few seconds, Minho begins to groan in pain. Since your eyes are shut, you’re not able to look at his face and see the way he writhes in anguish. 

Chan grabs his shoulders tightly and keeps him down on the bed. 

The heat from your palm draws out the infection slowly. With each passing second, Minho’s grunts and growls grow louder and deeper. 

“How long will this take?” Chan asks through gritted teeth. 

“Only a few more moments, apologies. The infection was in his system for days.”

Since Minho is so lost in the throes of his mind, he doesn’t fight back nearly as much as you thought he would. Either that, or his pain tolerance is something out of this world. 

Sweat drips down your face from concentration. 

Once you’re sure the entire infection is clear from his system, you drop the spell and take a deep breath. Your eyes open and you look down at the wound. 

It looks entirely clean. 

Hyunjin comes barreling through the door before you can say anything. 

Both you and Chan’s heads whip around.

“Are these correct?” He holds out a bushel full of Dusk Tulips. 

“Aye,” you say, relieved, and take them from him. “Perfect. I just need to stitch the wound closed first before I can use these. Thank you.”

Pulling out a needle and thread, you get everything ready to suture the wound shut. 

“We did not shut the wound previously because we thought the Snow Weed took away infection,” Seungmin says from behind you. 

“Snow Weed creates an impenetrable covering for wounds. You should use it for when large chunks of skin are missing and cannot be sewn shut.” The thread goes through the eye of the needle. “It is still a smart move to put Snow Weed over a wound, do not misinterpret my words.

“In the case of infection, you need to let it come out of the wound, you were mistakenly keeping it in.”

Chan huffs and takes a few steps away from the bed now that he doesn’t need to hold Minho down. 

Minho’s face seems to have relaxed considerably. His eyebrows are no longer pinched together, lips parted in a sleeping manner. 

“Just a few more moments, Minho. This will not hurt.” You whisper down to him before making the first stitch. 

He doesn’t even flinch. But you were also known for being extremely gentle when it came to sutures. 

You stick a hand full of Dusk Tulip petals in your mouth and start grinding them between your teeth. Spitting the mass in your hand, you start to press the paste down on the now-closed wound. 

“Do you have any fresh bandages?” You turn to Jisung to ask. He nods and rummages through a drawer and gives you the roll. 

“I can assist and sit him up.” Seungmin comes closer to the bed. He gently sits Minho up whose muscles are so limp he may as well be a ragdoll. 

With the bandage secure around his stomach, Minho is laid back down on the bed. 

You grab the rag and dip it in water once more, dabbing any excess sweat from his beautiful skin. You run the rag over his cheeks, down his neck and around the top of his chest. 

After swiping over his scent gland, the smell hits you like a ton of bricks. 

A fresh citrus and woodsy aroma wraps around you like a python. All of your senses light up like a flame. 

Every muscle in your body seizes. 

Mate. Mate. Mate.

No way. He’s your…

Quickly, you place the wet rag on his forehead once more and start gathering up your equipment. 

“He should wake up in a few hours. Allow him to get plenty of rest. You can change his gauze twice a day. Apply more crushed Dusk Tulips to the wound if the infection persists, but it should be completely gone from his system.”

Your voice wavers and everything falls out quickly. Clearing your throat, you throw everything back into your satchel. 

Minho shifts around on the bed, his nose twitching. 

“ M…Mate… ”

You cough loudly and turn around to face the other lycans. 

“May I please return to my village now?”

Chan eyes you closely, then Minho, then back to you. With each moment, you can feel your heart rate increasing. He’s deadpan for a second and then nods.

“Aye, we will have someone accompany you back to Beckinsale.”

“No need,” you blurt out quickly and walk briskly towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you all.”

Before they can respond, you’re out the door, and back into the Enchanted Forest. 

Back in the hut, Jisung walks back to Minho’s side and sits on the stool next to the bed. 

“Thank the Gods we crossed paths with her,” he says, adjusting the blanket around Minho. 

“I have a feeling it will not be the last time we see her,” Hyunjin says cockily, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“What do you mean?” Jisung turns to him. 

“You will find out soon enough.” 

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

Minho was floating in a pool of pain for so long. His mind kept coming in and out to the sound of his pack member’s voices. 

They were talking to him, trying to get him to open his eyes. He just couldn’t. No matter how hard he tried. 

The infection took him by the heart and had him in its evil grip. 

For days he went in and out, he had no idea how much time had passed since he was shot with that arrow. 

All Minho knew was that he was going to be dead soon. That much was certain. 

Until the door to the hut opened and it was like he walked into a Holiday Bakery; cinnamon, apples, and vanilla twisted around his soul and sped up his slowing heart rate. 

What was that beautiful smell?

“She is here to heal Minho, Jisung. Back off.”

Who? Who was here to heal him? They brought a healer in? Chan allowed them to bring a healer to their den? 

The scent gets stronger and stronger. It’s almost enough motivation for Minho to pry his eyes open. 

“May I?” 

Oh, that sweet, melodic voice. Angels are jealous of that sound, Minho is certain of that. 

Your touch is so ginger, he could cry. Minho’s almost forgotten all about the wound drawing his very soul down to the Underworld. 

“Hail, Minho.”  

Every nerve in his body sings at the sound of his name tumbling from your mouth. He’s not even sure what you look like, but he knows you’re gorgeous. An angel, you have to look like an angel. If he was able to open his eyes, you would have a halo above your head. 

“My name is Y/N, I am the village healer for Beckinsale. And I apologize, this is not going to feel pleasant at all.”

Beckinsale? Are you sure you’re not a being of the afterlife here to hold him and keep him safe?

Y/N from Beckinsale who smells like the sweetest pastry he could ever hope to sink his sharp teeth into. 

A rag is dipped into water and the cool bite brings relief over his feverish skin. A sigh of relief comes from his nose. 

He falls into the feeling of you surrounding him. The way your scent wafts through his body and soothes his very soul. 

The pain of his wound is long forgotten about. 

“Apologies, Minho. Please know my intentions are not ill.”

Whatever you say, Angel. 

Minho is vaguely aware of the pain that grips his stomach, it’s searing, like it’s being cauterized. 

But your scent, your beautiful, angelic scent keeps his mind distracted and in the clouds. 

Second by second, the pain gets less and less. The weight that’s been sitting in his chest begins to lift. Heat still hovers over his body, but it only feels like he sat a bit too close to a campfire. 

Then, for the first time since his injury, Minho begins to drift off to a peaceful sleep. Not one where he’s riddled with fever dreams and infection induced nightmares. No, a dreamless sleep surrounded by cinnamon, apples, and vanilla. 

Will you still be here when he wakes up? 

He needs you there. 

He hasn’t even seen your face! You’re his fated other half! 

Minho tries with all his might to wake up, but the comfort of sleep finally wins when you run your beautifully soft fingers through his sweaty hair. 

There’s a slight spike in your scent. 

You pull away from him quickly. 

No, no, no.

Come back. No, please. 

“M… Mate.”

You don’t hear him, you mustn’t have. You’re still leaving, please don’t go. No, please. 

Your scent gets weaker and weaker. It no longer sits in the room with you. 

Minho gives up and falls asleep on the sweat covered bed. 

Y/N from Beckinsale. 

It definitely won’t be the last time he’s in a room with you.

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

“Now,” you put your hands on your hips after tying the tiniest bandage around a little boy’s knee. “What did we learn about running in the alley?”

“Not to…” he sniffles and wipes the snot leaking from his nose. 

You laugh and reach forward, wiping the tears from his eyes gently. 

“Exactly, now go on back home for dinner.” You laugh and ruffle his hair. “There’s a basket full of sweets by the door, make sure you grab one. I read in a book somewhere that they make wounds heal faster.”

His eyes light up and he hops off the table, running towards the door and grabbing an entire handful of sweets. 

“Thank you, Y/N!” he yells as he runs outside. 

Another laugh falls from your lips and you clean up the patient table he was sitting on. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see an almost empty tonic bottle sitting on your workbench. 

It’s been three weeks since you healed Minho in the middle of the Enchanted Forest. It’s been three weeks since you had access to Orange Needle Lilies

And it’s been three weeks since you’ve found your mate. 

You need more flowers for your own safety. But if you venture back into their land, would they let you leave this time?

Biting your lip nervously, you pace around the floor. 

You should’ve asked. You should’ve said that was your one condition for healing him. But were you really in the position to be making demands? 

“Shit,” you mutter, still staring at the bottle. 

Not having the scent blocker is not a chance you’re willing to take. Especially since there’s an alpha in your village that has been eyeing you up like fresh meat for months now. 

You need those flowers. 

If you run into the pack, maybe they’ll spare you. You did save Minho’s life after all.

Within a few moments, you have your travel boots laced up and your satchel across your body. A dagger sits comfortably in your pocket. 

You’re out the door and walking into the enchanted forest before you can think twice about it. 

The air gets thicker the deeper you get into the woods, that’s something you always noticed. It gets heavier and inflates your lungs differently. 

A hum rings low through the trees. 

Get in, pick the flowers, get out. Get in, pick the flowers, get out. 

Your usual area is a clearing in the trees by a babbling brook. The sound of the water flowing over the rocks is usually enough to help conceal your presence to the wolf pack. 

You will not slip and fall again. 

With a racing heart, you lean down and start clipping the Lilies out of the ground. All of your senses on high alert to your surroundings. 

After only about 4 flowers, a twig snaps behind you. 

All of your muscles freeze, your blood runs cold. 

Slowly, you stand up and look around. Maybe it was just an animal that ran by. Could’ve been a rabbit, or a squirrel. 

“You have a lot of nerve coming back here, I will give you that.”

Or a wolf. 

“Seungmin,” you gulp and look at the ground nervously. “I apologize, I truly mean no disrespect, I just need these-“

“Flowers, yes, I understand.”

He walks closer to you, face completely unreadable. You look up from the ground at the beta. 

Tattered shorts and a mostly ripped shirt adorn his body. 

“You cannot keep coming here, Y/N.”

“Please, you do not understand I-“

“Y/N.”

His tone is somewhat begging. 

“Seungmin, they do not grow anywhere else.”

“You will have to find an alternative.”

Your jaw clenches and your heart squeezes. An alternative to a scent blocker? 

“I do not see the harm in my being here. I only require flowers.”

Your own bravery surprises you. 

“If we let you galavant all over our land, we would have to let everyone do so.”

“Galavant? I am picking flowers!” You sputter and frown, an angry look begins pulling at your face. You take a few steps closer to Seungmin. 

The beta bristles outwardly at your confrontation but holds his ground. 

“Do you forget that I saved your packmate’s life? I am only asking to come pick flowers. Flowers that will save my life.”

His eyebrows furrow in confusion. 

“Your life?”

“I am unmarked, Seungmin. If he catches a whiff I-“

You cut yourself off. Looking down at the ground, you sigh, throat constricting with frustrated tears. 

“Just forget it. I will not bother your pack anymore.”

Both of you stand in silence for a long moment before you gather yourself and brush past Seungmin. 

You bump your shoulder into his. 

It’s petty, but you do it. 

“By the way,” you start without looking back. “I can tell by the redness of your eyes you are beginning to fall ill with a seasonal sickness. Chew on onion stems to help keep the symptoms at bay.”

And with that, you walk away from the clearing. Only four Lilies in your satchel. 

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

“I am fully healed and you know it, you should have let me go with Seungmin.” Minho’s voice has a sharp bite to it. 

Chan continues walking away, not giving Minho the time of day. But the younger wolf walks after him. 

“Seungmin can handle one person by himself,” Chan responds, picking up the ax to cut firewood. 

“I am aware of that, but you will not let me leave the den. Why am I some sort of prisoner now?”

“Drop it, Minho.”

He splits a log in half with a mighty swing. 

“One measly little injury and suddenly you imprison me!”

“Minho.”

Another swing. 

“It has been weeks and every time I try to go anywhere you look down upon me.”

“You almost died!” Chan whips around at him, fire in his eyes. “And if it were not for that human you would be dead.” He spits at him. 

The way he sneers when he mentions you has Minho’s blood boiling. Anger creeps up under his collar and into his mind. 

“Do not speak of her as if she is scum,” Minho growls. 

Chan’s eyebrows furrow further in anger. “I never said she was scum, you made that jump yourself.”

Both lycans stare each other in the eye, neither wanting to be the one that breaks the intense eye contact. 

“You do not even know her, Minho.”

“I do not need to!”

A whoosh followed by snapping comes from the edge of the woods. 

“Another pissing contest?” Seungmin sighs as he walks closer to the two brooding Alphas. 

Chan glares at Minho for a moment longer before looking at Seungmin, who was chewing on an onion stem. 

“Did you take care of the problem?”

“Aye, it was only-“

“Good.” Chan interrupts him and turns to walk away. He only just started chopping wood; why was he leaving already? And why did he cut Seungmin off?

“Who was it?” Minho presses, lips pursing in confusion. 

Seungmin’s eyes flicker from Minho, to Chan, then back to Minho before shaking his head. 

“A stray beggar. I took care of the problem.”

He shifts from foot to foot and then walks past Minho. The wind kicks up at that moment.

That’s when Minho smells it. 

Cinnamon, apples, and vanilla. 

Acting on instinct, Minho’s hand flies out and grabs Seungmin’s tattered shirt in a death-like grip. 

He yanks him to be nose to nose.

“It was her,” he grits out between his teeth. “Y/N was there.”

Surprise flickers through Seungmin’s eyes. His hand comes up and grabs Minho’s to try and get him to release his collar. 

Chan stops mid step and turns to look at them. 

“My mate was here. That’s why you would not allow me to go with Seungmin. Not because you were concerned about my health.”

Minho grips Seungmin even tighter. 

“What did you do to her?” He barks. “Did you hurt her? If you even laid a hand on her, I swear to the Gods, I will-“

Seungmin shoves his shoulder roughly. “You will do what? Nothing, now back off. I did not even touch her, she pushed into me as she was leaving.”

“Why was she here?” Minho presses.

“Drop it, Minho.” Chan growls.

He ignores him, “Why does she keep coming here?”

“Flowers.” Seungmin snaps at him, walking away from the two bristling lycans. “She comes here for Orange Needle Lilies, she uses them as a scent blocker.”

“A scent blocker?” Minho asks. Chan doesn’t respond. He stares him down, his alpha gaze does nothing to unnerve his packmate.

A feeling of dread begins to crawl up his spine and settles at the back of his neck.

Minho turns on his heel, his mind made up.

There’s a rough yank on the back of his collar. Involuntarily, Minho growls and turns, teeth bared at whoever grabbed him.

Chan looks down at him with an equally challenging look. 

“Where do you think you are going?” Chan barks.

“To Beckinsale,” Minho answers dangerously.

“No, you are not.’

“You are not my father. I am going to see my mate.” Minho shoves away from him.

“I am your pack leader and I am saying no , Minho.”

“To Hell with you, Chan.”

With one last push against his shoulders, Minho frees himself from Chan. They both stare at each other for a long moment, neither wolf saying anything, and neither want to give up. 

Eventually, Minho bares his teeth and rolls his eyes before walking away back into the hut.

That nagging, anxious feeling continuously pricks at the back of his neck, making all of his hair stand up on the end. 

Something is happening, something is wrong, he just knows it. 

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

The last of your scent blocking salve was used three days ago. 

Since then you’ve rarely left your home and if you did, you wore a high necked blouse or scarf. You made yourself scarce around the village. 

You’re going to have to return to normal life soon, and you will. But not now. 

Not when your heat is only a day or so away. It could hit any second now, you can feel the beginning stages thrumming within you. Your skin crawls with tiny pin pricks. 

This will be your first heat without scent blockers. And the thought of it is making you a humming ball of anxiety. 

There was only one problem– you needed food to make it through the next few days, and that meant leaving your home. Any other alpha or beta will be able to smell you from miles away. As soon as you step outside your door, you’re surely done for.

You bite your thumbnail and pace right by your front door. A tight, high-collared sweater adorned with a thick knit scarf on top rests on your body.

Why didn’t you go out earlier? 

Staring down out the window, you find your courage– you need food to get through this, there’s no way you’ll make it through without proper nutrition. 

Without another moment to hesitate, you open the door and make your way down to the local market. You wrap the scarf even tighter around your neck and keep your head down.

The sun set about twenty minutes ago, darkness creeping through the sky. 

You decide to take back alleys and less populated streets to the market– at the time, it seemed like the best idea.

It wasn’t until you passed by someone and a low growl came from their throat that you realized that it was, in fact, the worst decision you could’ve ever made. 

The growl was followed by a deep inhale.

Gulping, you try to walk faster to the market, the end of the alleyway was only about fifteen meters away. 

‘Shit, shit, shit.’ You think to yourself.

“Mmm,” the male hums from the back of his throat. “If it isn’t the village healer.”

Your blood runs cold. Out of all the people in Beckinsale, it had to be him. The Blacksmith’s son who had been eyeing you for months, maybe even years– preaching around the village about he was going to lay claim to you one day. 

Deciding to ignore him and keep walking, you pick up the pace, your legs carrying you faster down the alleyway. 

“Do not be daft, girl, I know you heard me.”

Fear creeps up the back of your neck and into your hair. Just keep walking, Y/N. Get into a more populated area. 

A strong, vice grip snatches your wrist and yanks you backwards.

Before you could scream, a hand clamps over your mouth and your body is slammed backwards into the alleyway wall. The stone connects with the back of your skull with a crack.

Rotten, nasty smells surround your nose and your body physically recoils away from it. The Blacksmith’s son was a huge, stocky man whose outward appearance accurately reflected his strength. The hand over your mouth was about as big as your face.

“Is that a heat I smell, little omega?” He leans down further, crowding your space. His greasy hair hangs in front of his eyes.

Alpha eyes getting darker and darker as the smell of your heat seeps through the collar of your shirt and scarf. 

His other hand comes up and rips the scarf away from your neck.

You squeal behind his hand and reach up, trying your hardest to pry it off your mouth to scream for help. Your nails scratch at his leathery skin, your entire body writhes around against the stone. 

Please, anybody come into the alley, please.

His head ducks down and goes right into the crook of your neck and takes a deep inhale. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes when you hear the dark growl rumble in his chest.

You shove as hard as you can against his chest, but he doesn’t budge. All those years working as a blacksmith has left him built like a brick wall.

“Holy fuck you smell so good,” he moans into your ear taking in your scent. You’re sure you couldn’t smell that good, not with the fear you’re feeling coursing through your veins and souring the scent. 

He leans back, eyes completely black. The tears in your eyes spill down your cheeks.

“Cannot wait to claim you as my omega.” 

Thick fingers reach up to the top of your shirt and in one sharp movement, he tears open the front, all of the buttons pop open and fly out onto the stone.

Another cry is muffled by his hand. 

Your scent seeps through the alley, filling the cracks in the pavement. 

Sobs wrack your chest.

“Good little omega…” His disgusting fingers trail down your neck.

Right as they’re about to touch your scent gland, one of the deepest, darkest, strongest growls shoots down the alley.

Both of you jolt.

Your eyes frantically look over at the source; scream after scream being muffled by the Blacksmith’s hand.

Bright, amber eyes glare down the alleyway with murderous intent. 

The very sight of them fills you with an unreal level of relief. 

“Get your vile hands off my mate .”

His voice is like a balm over your fear. You’ve never felt such instant relief to your emotions in your life. It’s like putting a safety blanket over your shoulders. A haze falls over your mind at the melody.

Mate, alpha, mate, safe, mate.

“Get the fuck outta here, she is unclaimed,” your captor snarls back.

Another snarl comes from the other man. 

He begins to take step after step towards the two of you, each one faster than the other. 

Once his face is visible, your heart leaps in your chest. 

Minho. 

Your mate came to save you.

His eyes lock with yours, they soften considerably as they gaze upon your fear twisted face, the tears still stream down your cheeks. 

It’s the first time he’s seeing your face. His entire world seems to stop. 

You try to whimper his name but it’s still muffled. 

Minho’s eyes flicker back to your captor, darkening once more. 

“I am giving you one last opportunity to let her go before I tear your throat out.” Minho snarls, still striding towards you. His boots click on the stone. 

“I would love to see you try–” The Blacksmith is cut off when Minho punches a sharp right hook into his nose. He stumbles and falls to the ground, clutching at his face. Blood oozes through his fingers. 

You’re able to breathe through your mouth finally. 

“Alpha.” Is the only word you’re able to utter at Minho, chest rising and falling with heavy pants. Your mate’s eyes snap to yours.

He takes in your form carefully, sweeping over each of your features lovingly. Your eyebrows pull together, your skin begins burning with a need to be touching him. You need him to hold you, touch you, kiss you– anything.

“Alpha, please,” you hiss.

He steps closer to you, taking his cloak off from around his shoulders. He wraps it around you carefully, closing the front.

Fresh citrus and woods envelopes you and you could cry even more from the relief his scent brings you. A gentle kiss is pressed to your forehead. 

“Just one moment, dear.”

Minho steps away from you, face immediately morphing into one of murderous intent as he looks at the Blacksmith.

The pathetic man looks up at him with a frightened yelp. “Get away from me!” He cries out.

Minho’s scent invades your senses, wrapping around you and putting you in a protective bubble. You’re vaguely aware of the sounds of Minho beating the living daylights out of the Blacksmith but you couldn’t care less.

Your heat decided to hit you like a brick wall the moment Minho stepped into your senses. Suddenly, he’s the only thing your brain knows. 

You sink down onto the ground, shrinking in on yourself inside Minho’s warm cloak.

Muffled screams and muted punches ring out in the background. But you can only mewl softly, curling further and further into the fabric. 

You don’t even register when the fighting stops. Two warm hands are grabbing you gently, bringing your chin up to meet dazzling brown eyes. 

Minho looks over every inch of your face, his thumbs come up and wipe the tear streaks off your cheeks. 

“Did he hurt you?” Everything about his voice is so tender; its a complete one-eighty from the way he was speaking to the Blacksmith. 

You shake your head, unable to tear your eyes away from his. Your lids droop, chest still heaving with pants. 

It’s like an unscratchable itch settles in your smalls. 

The longer you surround yourself in Minho’s scent, the wetter and wetter your slick gets the fabric.

“Alpha,” you murmur again, leaning into his touch. 

His jaw clenches and he cups you closely, his thumb swipes back and forth over the soft skin of your cheek. Every ounce of his self restraint is being tested. 

Minho’s cock jumps in his pants at the sight of you desperate before him.

His resolve on following Chan’s wishes broke about two hours ago when his wolf kept screaming at him to find you, that something was wrong. 

Chan be damned, his instincts kept you safe.

“Let’s get you home, Y/N.” He reaches forward and scoops you up into his arms.

As the fabric of his cloak shifts around, your scent mixed with his puffs out and into his nose. An audible moan pulls from his throat and he has to shut his eyes and focus on staying calm lest he wanted to take you against the alleyway wall.

The way your warm, homey smells blends together seamlessly with this outdoorsy ones sends Minho’s brain into a frenzy.

Mate, claim, mate, mark, mate. HIs wolf howls at him.

He takes a deep, shaky breath and stands up with you in his arms. You whimper and curl into him further.

Your head falls into the crook of his neck, your nose nudging at his scent gland.

It’s driving him insane.

“Y/N,” he strains out. “Where– Which way?” He asks.

You moan into his neck, rubbing your head all over him, further blending your scents. His knees almost give out right then and there. 

“Need you, Alpha.” Your hand comes out of the cloak and grabs at his shirt.

“I am right here, my little omega.” Minho presses his lips to your forehead. “Please,” he whispers into your skin. “Let me get you home and I will do whatever you need, Y/N. Your alpha will take good care of you.”

Releasing his shirt, you point in one direction down the alley. 

Minho doesn’t hesitate, he briskly walks in that direction, keeping you close to his chest. Throughout the entire walk, you motion in vague directions while nosing at his neck, leaving small pecks that make his legs turn to jelly.

You coo softly against him, squirming around every few seconds as your heat takes a hold of your body.

The timer on his self control is ticking down by the second. 

He’s been dreaming about you ever since you took care of him like some angel from the afterlife, and now that he finally has you in his arms, he never wants to let go.

Finally, you point to a small cottage tucked away in the corner of the village.

Minho heaves a sigh of relief and almost sprints up to the door, opening it and stepping inside so fast you would think someone was chasing him. 

The entire cottage smells like you in the best way. 

After spending night after night trying to recall just how sweet you smell, being inside your cottage feels like a dip in a hot bath. 

He makes his way through the house and into a room that holds a large bed in the middle. 

How can a cottage he’s never set foot in feel so familiar ?

With great care, he lays you down on your bed. When he goes to stand up, your arms lock around his neck. 

“No, Alpha, please,” you whine into his neck. “Need you so bad. I need my alpha.”

Minho audibly groans, he has to place a hand on the bed to stop his body from crumpling. 

“I will be right back, my dove. I only need to check the locks on the door.”

He buried his own face in your neck, inhaling your gorgeous scent. You keen and coo at his attention. 

“You will come right back?” You ask.

“Aye, I will. You will not even know I left the room.”

You press one long, last kiss to the crook of his neck before slowly unwinding your arms from around his neck. 

Minho peels himself away from you and goes back to the front door, checking each and every lock on the door and windows. 

He should take more time to really inspect each one, but his inner wolf is absolutely clawing at his self control. 

Mate. Mark. Claim. Mate. Mine. 

Sweat drips down the back of his neck, his hands shaking. 

But as much as his wolf wanted to claim you, he also wanted to protect you and never let a single thing ever happen to you again. He would make sure that you were never put into harm's way. 

The last lock is inspected and secure. 

Minho turns on his heel and practically runs back to your room. 

The smell of your arousal permeates the air thicker and thicker the closer he gets to your room. You smell so sickeningly sweet, he can’t wait to sink his teeth into you. 

Tiny whimpers invade his ears and each one sends a shot of arousal to his cock. 

He knocks on your door before entering. 

His mouth goes dry, his inner wolf howls. 

In the time that it took for him to check the locks, you pushed pillows and blankets into a nest, his cloak right under your head. 

You also stripped yourself of all your clothes. Your beautiful nude form right in the middle of the bed. 

Fingers buried deep into your cunt. 

Slick drips down your folds and onto the sheets. 

Your fingers seem to be doing nothing to help your hazy state. There was only one thing that could help. 

“Minho,” you moan out, turning your head to look at him. A thin sheen of sweat covers your body. “ Please. ” 

His instincts decide to push him into the passenger’s seat. 

He’s striding to you as fast as his legs would take him, his hands already working on ripping his own shirt off. 

A growl tears from his throat as he climbs on the bed, stalking up your body with predator-like eyes. 

“Did you make a pretty nest for us, little one?”

You nod with a scarlet haze over the bridge of your nose and up your cheeks to your ears. 

Minho wastes no time smashing your lips together. He licks and sucks your mouth like it’s candy.

He cages you down on the mattress with his strong arms. Your free hand threads into his hair and keeps him as close as possible. 

It’s sloppy and disgusting, spit leaks out down your chin. Your tongues dance with one another, he licks around your mouth while you whimper and suck on his tongue. 

Neither of you can control the noises you’re making. 

Your walls clench down on your own fingers. 

“Been dreaming of you every single night, omega.” He growls against your lips before capturing them again. “Your scent has been driving me wild.”

Mewing, you bite his lower lip and pull back for it to snap back against his teeth. 

Slowly, Minho can feel the itch of his own rut beginning to tickle at the base of his spine. Your heat must be triggering it. 

“I have never smelled anything as good as you do.” Minho trails his wet kisses down your neck to lick all over your skin. He stops at your scent gland, his tongue raking over it in slow, long, wet, strokes. 

He’s taking his time like he would with a dessert. 

Every single lick makes you moan and keen into his touch. Your fingers start thrusting in and out of yourself faster and faster. But it doesn’t help, it only makes you burn even more. 

“Minho,” you pant, pulling on his hair. He fights against your pull, not wanting to be parted from your scent gland. “Minho!” You try again, whining. 

He growls low in his throat, one of his hands coming down to glide down the side of your body to your hip. His large palm rests against your red hot skin. 

The licks and sucks are sending you wild. 

“Alpha!” You cry out, his body jolts a bit and he finally lifts his head. Blacked out, hazy eyes watch you closely. “Need you to touch me please. ”

Minho smirks and keeps eye contact with you while kissing down your body. He bites your collarbones, kisses the skin between them, then underneath them.

When he gets down to your breast, he envelopes an entire nipple in his mouth and sucks hard .

You cry out, your head tilting back to arch off the bed. 

Minho has none of that, this alpha wants eye contact, he wants submission to him. He fists a hand in your hair and yanks your head so that you look at him. 

“Eyes on me, Omega.” He licks around your pebbled bud again, sucking harshly. “Perfect,” he says around your nipple. “Perfect for our pups to suckle on.”

Pride rips through you at your alpha’s words. Your heat has you in its clutches, the only thing your body wants is to make pups, breed, fuck, get pregnant. 

Minho switches to the other nipple, keeping his eyes on you. Your hand still in his hair cards through gently, pushing the strands off his forehead. 

After a harsh bite, you grab a fistful with a moan. 

Meanwhile, your slick is dripping down your fingers and staining the sheets underneath you. Every flick of his tongue makes you clench around your fingers. 

You start to thrust in and out in time with his licks. 

It’s still not enough. 

Your eyebrows knit together and you whine, trying to curl your own fingers to make you feel good. 

Minho notices your struggle and smirks. “Do you need your alpha to touch you?”

“Yes!” you cry out, frustration creeping down your collar. “I need my alpha so bad!”

Minho hums and runs his hand down your body to grab your wrist. He sits up after leaving one more mark on your chest. 

Carefully, he pulls your fingers out of your cunt with a wet squelch. 

“Fuck,” he groans under his breath as he watches your slick drip down your folds. The smell is absolutely intoxicating. 

Minho brings your hand up to his mouth, he licks all the way up your forearm, up your hand, to take your fingers into his mouth. 

His hips jolt forward at your taste. 

If he thought your scent was amazing, then your taste was otherworldly. 

His eyes close and he loses himself in your taste, suckling on your lithe fingers, tongue swirling around the digits. 

You’re panting while watching him. Wherever he touches you is the only place that stops burning with need and desire. 

“Minho…” you coo and your hips wiggle around impatiently. 

Bringing your hand out of his mouth, he stares directly at your glistening folds. 

“Need to taste you more.”

He practically dives in, tongue licking a long strip from bottom to the top, circling your clit to lap back down at your hole. 

Your entire body arcs and you scream out in pleasure. One hand flies down to pull at his hair again, your hips grind into his face. 

It feels so good .

Minho grabs your hips, thumbs pressing down on the bone to keep you still. 

He’s losing himself second by second in your juices. It’s like he’s drinking a honeyed ale, he’s getting absolutely drunk on you. 

The entire world could collapse around the two of you right now and he wouldn’t stop. 

His rut seems to have taken full control of his body. 

Mate, mark, claim, taste, fuck, breed. 

His cock is so fucking hard in his trousers but he doesn’t want to take his mouth away from you, not for a second. 

Over and over again he laps at your clit, each time you moan and pull his hair. 

Incoherent babbles fall from your lips telling him how good he’s making you feel, how much you need him. 

“Close, close, close,” you repeat like a prayer, a rubber band pulling tighter and tighter inside you. 

One of his hands moves from your hip to thrust two fingers into your pulsing hole. Minho’s eyes roll back in his head at how soft and velvety you feel around his fingers. 

His wolf howls at him to fuck you already, to sink his cock inside you and cum over and over again until it takes hold. 

But the man wants— no, needs— you to cum in his mouth. 

His tongue flicks over your clit at the same time he curls his fingers up to hit a spot within you and your body tenses. 

Instead of crying out, your mouth stretches open and no sound comes out. 

Your walls clamp down on his fingers and pulse as your orgasm rips through you. The grip on his hair tightens so much. 

As your juices leak out around his fingers, he laps it up greedily. 

Once the main waves of your orgasm pass, you finally let out a strained grunt, chest heaving with pants and moans. 

His name falls from you like a mantra. 

The itch within you was scratched, but just for a split second. The moment you come down from your orgasm, that burning begins once more. 

He knows it. He knows the only thing that’ll make it go away is his knot. 

His fingers slide out of you and he crawls over you to hover over your panting form. 

Your hair is frizzy and messy, eyes hazy and fucked out, swollen lips parted. Minho desperately wants this image of you to stay burned into his memory.

“Minho,” you moan to him. 

“Taste how delicious you are.” Gently, he pushes his fingers past your lips. 

Immediately, your tongue licks around his digits. The feeling causes him to buck his hips forward into yours. His clothed cock ruts into your soaking cunt. 

Both of you moan together. 

You suck on his fingers and taste whatever you can. 

He can only take it for a few seconds before he pulls them away and replaces them with his tongue. 

The taste of your juices is swapped between your tongues. 

“Need you,” you moan between kisses. “Need my alpha.” Kiss. “Need your knot.”

Once more he bucks into you involuntarily. He needs you just as bad as you need him.

“I will give you what you want.” He bites your lip. “My little omega.”

He pulls away from you. “Flip over for me, little one.” 

Immediately, you do what he says. 

Minho stands up from the bed to shuck off his trousers and heavy boots. His cock springs free and he strokes himself a few times, eyes following how you arch your back on your hands and knees, presenting yourself for him. 

His tongue licks his lips and then it pulls between his teeth. 

You’re so fucking gorgeous. 

“Alpha, please ,” you whine and look back over your shoulders. 

He crawls back onto the mattress and gives your ass cheek a sharp slap. 

“Be patient.”

Minho lines up behind you, fisting the base of his cock. He rubs it up and down your slick. 

The two of you moan out in unison. 

Mewling, you push your hips backwards to try and spear yourself on him. Minho is quick to slap your asscheek again. 

“Omegas who do not behave do not get their alpha’s knots.” His hand rubs over where he slapped. 

You whine and bury your face into his cloak still bunched underneath you. Your back arches more and you can’t keep still. 

Your hips twitch, hole clenching around nothing the more he rubs his cock head in your slick. 

“Minho!” You whine, the frustration is killing you. 

He clicks his tongue at your impatience. “Fine, then. I will give you what you want.”

His tone is dark and he shoves into you without further notice. 

Your walls stretch around him deliciously. He’s so big you think you can feel him in your throat. The pleasure shoots right into your thighs. 

Minho’s eyes roll back in his head at the feeling of your wetness surrounding him. 

He doesn’t even try to take it slow. His wolf holds the reins tightly and begins slamming into you over and over again. 

He’s thrusting so hard, his hips slap into your ass with each stroke. 

More babbling comes from your mouth. 

Minho reaches forward and grabs a fistful of your hair, lifting your head up from the cloak. 

Your tongue lulls out of your mouth. 

“Fucking look at that,” he moans in awe. “Only inside you for a minute and you are already cock drunk.”

Your eyes glaze over and you lose yourself in the feeling of him abusing your little hole. 

“Feel so fucking good wrapped around me. You were made for me, little omega.”

The only sound you are able to muster is a tiny ‘ mhmm! ’

“So fucking good for me, good for your alpha.”

“Only for you, Alpha!”

A sharp smack lands on your ass again, you cry out. 

“That’s right. Just for me. Just for your alpha. No one else. This cunt right here is all mine. ”

He looks down at where he can see his cock disappearing inside you to come back out coated in your delicious slick. It makes him feel insane. 

Minho can’t control himself anymore, not that he would want to.

It’s animalistic, the way he wants to devour you. 

He tugs on your hair and brings you up so your back is flush with his chest. The hand in your hair moves around to grab your throat. His other hand splays out on your lower stomach. 

“Can fucking feel my cock fucking you right here.” He presses down on your stomach and your head falls back against his shoulder. 

The moans you’re making are so involuntary. 

“Going to stuff you so full of pups. You’ll look so fucking good pregnant, carrying our children. So swollen and full.” 

At the base of his cock, Minho can feel his knot begin to form, it prods and catches on your entrance more every stroke. 

“Please, please, please,” you cry like a mantra. 

“You want that, little girl? You want to carry my pups? You want me to fuck a baby into you?”

“Yes! Please! Please, Minho! It feels so good!”

His inner wolf howls at your pleasure. It’s all he wants. 

“Close, Alpha. Please, mark me, please, please.”

Minho’s hips stutter at your words, but when his tempo comes back, it’s rough . Every stroke is unforgiving, he’s racing towards the finish line as fast and hard as he can.

Fuck, he wants to claim you so bad. It’s all he’s wanted for weeks since you first set foot in the hut. 

“My omega wants my mark? She wants me to claim her as mine?”

You nod in his grasp, he feels you gulp. “Yes! I need it. Need everyone to know I’m yours.”

Minho growls, his nose buries into the crook of your neck right at your scent gland. 

The idea of you wearing his mark proudly makes him feral: you in low collared shirts to purposefully parade your mating mark, you nursing your pups with that bite inches away. 

He needs it like he needs air to breathe. How can one person make him feel this way? 

His hand squeezes a bit on your throat. 

“I’ll give you my mark, Omega. I’ll claim you. You’ll be mine forever.”

He feels you clench down more. The knot at the base of his cock inflates more and more.

His orgasm is dangling in front of him teasingly. But he needs you to cum again, he needs to feel you clench down around him. 

The muscles in his abdomen are painfully tight. 

The hand on your hip moves to rub circles on your clit in time with his thrusts. 

“‘M close, Minho, please. Bite me, please. My mate, please. ”

His mind whites out. 

Sharp canines sink into your flesh around your scent gland. 

One of the loudest cries of pleasure ever comes from deep within your chest. Your eyes squeeze shut and your walls clench around him as your second orgasm tears through you like a train. 

Minho’s knot shoves inside you as his own pleasure peaks and hits him like a ton of bricks. The sweet metallic taste of your blood flooding his mouth, your scent keeping his brain on Earth. 

Cum shoots from his cock and floods your walls for what feels like forever. 

Neither of you have ever felt something so heavenly before. Two souls merge into one. 

Slowly, you both start coming down to earth. Minho’s hand around your neck starts massaging at the sensitive skin. 

You whine when he removes his teeth from your skin. 

He coos and laps up at the blood streaming down your body. Small kisses pepper the outside of the mark. 

Sweet nothings tumble from his lips. “Beautiful, beautiful mate. All mine. So sweet, so beautiful.”

Carefully, he maneuvers the two of you to lay down on your sides, his knot still buried within you. He has a feeling it will be there for a while.

He brings the blankets up over your exhausted bodies. 

Your skin is no longer burning with need, instead you’re in a content, happy bubble, your mate’s arms wrapped around you safely. 

Never in your life have you felt such comfort. You’re floating on a cloud.

His woodsy smell acts like a second blanket. 

Small hums leave you as you snuggle back into his chest more. 

Minho chuckles and kisses your bare shoulder. 

Your brain comes out of your heat-induced fog. But, instead of panicking, you find yourself happier than ever. 

One of your hands comes up to play with the fingers of the hand that’s by your head. His arm acting like a pillow. 

“I would have gotten shot with an arrow sooner if it meant I would find you.” He jokes, breaking the silence. 

You giggle. It’s music to his ears. 

He continues. “Your voice broke through the delirium of the infection.” Another kiss to your shoulder. “I remember thinking you were an Angel here to bring me into the afterlife.”

You flush, embarrassed at his sweet words. 

“And I remember thinking you were the most handsome man I have ever seen, even laying on your deathbed.”

He hums happily and leans up on his elbow. You turn around as much as you can to look up at him with a happy smile. 

“It is nice to officially meet you, Minho.”

Your fingers come up to brush over his cheek gently.

His heart swells, eyes shine in the candlelight of your room. 

“My beautiful mate.” He leans down and kisses you softly. “Thank you for saving my life.”

You’re hardly able to continue the kiss, you’re smiling too much. “And thank you for saving mine.”

His nose rubs against your cheek in a display of affection. 

“No one will ever harm you again, my dove.”

You laugh and brush your fingers through his hair. Kiss after kiss lands on your bare skin. He focuses more on your mating mark. 

It makes you feel giddy. 

“Well,” you giggle. “I think you may need to protect me from your pack leader.”

Minho chuckles. “He will get over it. I would like to see him try and keep us apart now.”

He leans down and presses your lips together. “My beautiful omega.”

“My handsome alpha.”

[mcuamerica]

Cabin by the Lake | Azriel x Fem!Reader

Featuring: Protective Bat Boys

Summary: Azriel is in a meeting in Autumn, while his family is unprotected from malicious visitors... Requested by anon here.

Warnings: 18+ only, canon level violence, misogyny, threat to child, not proofread

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

Dividers from @saradika

The sun was out in full force on the summer day, beating down on you and Callan, your babe. You decided instead of spending the day sweltering in the cabin, you would gather your things and bring Callan to the small lake. Not too far from your cabin, you could still see the roof from where you sat on the sandy beach. Cal sat up, watching as small fish raced around his fingers.

You sent the image down the bond to your mate, who wasn't with you because of some Court business that needed tending to. Since you couldn't find someone to watch Callan, you decided to stay back. After all, you weren't a trained warrior and didn't do very well as a courtier. You much preferred being a healer for the Court... and watching your handsome mate protect you. And now, all you wanted to be was a mother. You never got a response from Azriel, deeming that he had closed his end for the meeting.

So you read your book, legs spread out on a towel from the cabin. You kept one eye on Cal as you read, enjoying the breeze that swept through the forest. As you reached for one of the many fruits you brought along, you heard a few twigs snapping in the distance. You didn't think much of it, since there were plenty of friendly animals in the forest just outside of Velaris.

When you heard Cal babble, his wings fluttering behind his back, you glanced up. You smiled as he crawled his way over to you, reaching out to be held. You picked him up, smiling when he reached to tug on the small moon necklace that hung from your neck. You whispered to him, silently scolding him as he tugged on it. It was Azriel's first gift to you when the bond snapped, a promise that as long as the moon still lit up at night, he would be there for you.

You heard more twigs snap, this time closer. As you turned your head, you noticed three winged males stalking towards the trees. Your heart beat kicked up as you rose to your feet, praying they didn't see or hear you. No one was out in these woods normally, which is exactly why Azriel chose this spot to build the cabin for your family. So you would be out of harms way when he was gone.

You didn't recognize the males as they walked through the tree line. You hid behind a tree, slightly bouncing Cal to keep him entertained but quiet.

"Come on out, sweetheart... We know you're here." One of the males taunted, his voice deep and brutal. You shut your eyes for a moment, trying to remember something, anything that Azriel and your family had taught you about defending yourself. But with Cal in your arms, there was nothing you could do.

"We want to show the Shadowsinger what messing with our females gets him... See how he likes it when his female isn't under his control anymore." Another male said.

You breathed deeply, tugging on the bond like you haven't before, praying to the Mother that Azriel would feel it. You even lashed out your mind to Feyre and Rhys, hoping they would hear something.

All of the sudden, there was a male two trees away from you. Damn. He spotted you. "I found her boys... and she has a little one with her too. Look at those wings, so breakable."

You held back a whimper, slowly backing from the tree and running straight into one of the males. He was almost a head taller than you, and his wings towered behind him. Cal started to fuss, sensing that his mother was nervous.

"Maybe we can ruin his heir for him too... Since he's made it so easy for our females to take them and run from us." One of them said, the one that spoke first.

The male that stood behind you grabbed your waist, pulling you closer to him. "Nothing to say, sweetheart?" He asked, his breath too close to your neck.

"I-I don't know who you're talking about." You stuttered, hoping you were convincing.

He tsked. "Don't lie.. we've seen you on visits to Ironcrest. We know the Shadowsinger lives in these woods with his... healer wife. No big strong man to protect you know, huh?"

Then you heard a thud on the ground ahead of you. You and the man both looked towards the sound... and beheld the High Lord of the Night Court, seething.

"Take your hands off her." He growled, using what you knew to be his High Lord voice.

You were trembling as the man kept his grip on you, now feeling a blade against your side.

"I would chose your steps carefully, Rhysand. One wrong move and I might just let this knife slip right through this pretty little waist." He said, his voice right in your voice.

You felt the tears run down your cheeks. Why had you never learned to protect yourself? Why did you always have to decline it. If you knew anything... you wouldn't need your family to come in to save you. You wouldn't be fearing for the life of your babe right now.

"I'm doing you a courtesy of giving you a chose. Hands. Off. Now." He said. You heard another thud beside you, and saw Cassian standing there. He made quick work of incapacitating the other two males. You felt slightly better, but not completely. Where was your mate?

"I don't think you understand my reason for being here." He said. "You see-"

You felt a warm splatter of liquid hit the back of your head and side of your face and neck. You let out a scream, finally stepping out of the males grasp. You soon realized it was blood streaming down your hair now, and your mate was the one who slit that males throat.

You breathing quickened as you held onto Cal tightly, who was now reaching for his Uncle Rhys as him and Cassian approached. Once Azriel was in front of you, you let Rhys take Cal and collapsed into Azriel's arms. "I-I couldn't do anything. I-I'm so sorry. They could have hurt Cal a-and-"

Azriel pulled away, cupping your cheeks. "Hey, hey... Don't blame yourself. You are okay. Cal is okay. Breath. It's okay." He said, stroking your cheek as you calmed your breathing. The tears dried up in your eyes, now feeling the calming net of safety that your mate provided. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to protect you." He said, wiping some of the blood off of your cheek.

"Next time, you're going to come with us. Or you'll stay in the House of Wind. I won't leave you here again until it's properly warded." He said and glanced over to see Cal giggling in Rhys's arms at some gesture Cassian made. "I have to keep my promise, don't I?" He asked.

You gave him a small, gentle smile as you heard the giggles fall from Cal's lips. "You always keep your promise." You said, taking a final deep breath.

"And I will always protect you. And our family." Azriel said, leaning down to kiss your head. "Now let's get you cleaned up. I think I want to spend the day at the lake with you." He said, winking at you.

You nudged him and shook your head as the two of you made your way over to your son. "Too soon." You said, though a small fit of laughter fell from your lips.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed!

Main Masterlist

[hijackalx]

Headcanon thingy, but how would the companions + Gortash react to their lover taking a blow meant for them? (Sweetheart survives, but they'll definitely need some time to recover)

this post would get realllyyyy long if i did all the companions so i did the male companions + gortash, but let me know if u want me to do a separate one for the female companions too 💗💗

GN!reader, small mentions of violence

GORTASH

he’d prefer for you steer clear of any conflict— he considers it beneath you to get your hands dirty— but he doesn’t like to argue. he imagines one of these times you’ll learn your lesson, meaning he’s fully expecting you to come crawling back after a good whooping while promising to never do it again

when he’s approached by an angry subordinate, shaking their fist and yelling profanities at him, he easily maintains composure— he knows his steel watch could reduce anyone to a skid mark on the earth with a simple command. his scrappy sidekick however…………… 👹

he’s only slightly embarrassed when you jump in front of the aggressor, telling them off for their disrespect. suddenly their anger is directed towards you, resulting in a nasty pop to the face that sends you onto the floor. his eyes widen at the sight of you injured for his sake, and with one sharp inhale, he orders his steel watch to destroy your attacker. (and their family. and their friends. and their acquaintances)

he stays at your side while you get bandaged up, threatening the healer’s life every time you wince. he asks what you learned from this experience, hopeful. you think “i need a thicker skull” probably wasn’t the right answer, seeing as his immediate response is “🗿” LMAO

WYLL

he loves to be the one who swoops in and saves you. it really gives him that “heroic” feeling (even if you have to pretend to be his damsel in distress). you guys are always giving your enemies the ick 😹😹

this all goes to his head though, and he can get a little too cocky— like when he jumps in to take on too many enemies at once, and is clearly having a hard time defending you both. he tries to maintain his heroic persona, but you can’t help noticing how you two are getting backed into a corner

while he’s distracted and putting on a show of chivalry, you see an enemy going straight for his blind spot. it’s too late to retaliate, but you do have enough time to jump out in front of the attack. he watches you fall to the ground in pain, HORRIFIED by the fact that he failed to protect you. he forgets his knightly act in a fit of desperation, fighting as dirty as he needs to so you two have the opportunity to scamper away

he criticizes himself SO badly over your injuries. the hit may have broke your face but his failure broke his soul... 💔 LMFAO. he vows to you that it’ll never happen again, and that he’ll be more vigilant than ever from then on out— cue his extremely rigorous and inspirational training montage

GALE

he usually stays toward the rear during battle, using long range magic attacks while you take care of things in the front. he’s not adept at wearing armor and his robes don’t offer much protection— it’s just smarter this way

now imagine how his feeble wizard bones begin to quake when an enemy sneaks past you and sprints his way with a melee attack LMFAO. he’s a planner, not an improviser, so his brain races a million miles a minute trying to think of which spell to use. he needs to cast something powerful, but your close proximity makes him hesitate

you notice his stutter and quickly reach out to off the enemy. unfortunately, this results in you turning your back to another and opening yourself up to a sneak attack. you’re hit hard, and it takes you out of the fight. luckily, the last enemy has 1 HP, so he can easily finish them off with a hasty bop on the head from his staff 💥

afterwards, he’s STRICKEN with worry, cradling your face and trying to get you to speak to him clearly. once he realizes that your injury is healable, you get whiplash from how fast he switches back and forth between admiration and concern. “that was absolutely amazing! 🤩 ” “I THOUGHT YOU DIED!!! 😵”

ASTARION

you guys are super playful in battle. seeing who can kill the most enemies, doing fun combos together, trash talking (it’s giving legolas and gimli). fights with him on your team are rarely serious

he’s quick and alert, so he’s an expert at dodging attacks— it just so happens that you’re standing behind him one of these times, and you end up taking the full force of the blow in his place. he’s used to teasing you for your misfortunes in battle, so his first instinct is to point and laugh 😭

when you don’t get up and give him a bloodstained grin, he realizes something is seriously wrong. a wave of panic washes over him, and the last thing he remembers is switching into feral vampire mode to get you two out of there safely— i’m talking ripping out throats with his teeth 👹

you’re immediately scolded once you come to; “imagine how bad that could’ve been!”, and “you scared me half to death!”— a.k.a he feels SO BAD for letting this happen LMAO, and he 100% blames himself for not knowing you were behind him. he admits it was his fault after you promise to be more careful, and he promises that he will be too (with a little leg room for fun, of course)

[heartless-tate]

Hopelessly falling ❀ Azriel X reader

summary: Azriel is hopelessly pining after you. He rescued you two months ago and now you live in the library and help the priestesses. He spends everyday wrapped in thoughts of you, but you barely even seem to know he exists.

A/n : Hey guys! This is my first fic for this fandom, I had another account for a different fandom. But I’ve always loved SJM world and I think it’s time I started writing for it. If you want part two let me know! <3

word count; 2k

warnings; disturbing details of gore? Cussing, death, family death, mentions of murder, reader forgetting to eat, depression, blood mention, I think that covers it all? No use of y/n

Blood- blood was everywhere- and all he could focus on were eyes filled with terror staring back at him- Azriel shook the horrendous memory out of his head, wishing it had never happened this way.

Thousands of memories had compiled in his head over the 500 years of his existence, most of them being horrifying and kept him awake at night, but that night seemed to haunt him the most. But as much as he hated to say it- that night was the only reason he met you. Oh, fate was such a cruel, cruel, cruel- creature. Because that night was the same reason he never had the pleasure of seeing you smile. You now worked in the library with priestesses who had endured the same trauma as you, and while he was hoping one day you would heal mentally, he knew the chances were rare.

Azriel stretched his stiff wings and adjusted to standing on his left foot, letting the other rest. He was cloaked by his shadows as he watched you re-shelve books and push along the book cart. You seemed lost in thought, your mind in a far, far, far away place. He watched as that doll-like, lifeless, depressed look came over your face, and he wanted to growl and rip to shreds whatever was upsetting you- but he knew that he couldn't shred memories- and it made him feel more hopeless than anything. He hated it. He wanted to make you feel safe again, and make those beautiful lips spread with joy, your eyes gleaming with happiness.

He had saved you that night, wrapping you in his arms after he had killed off the attackers. He flew you to a healer, and let you make the choice of where you wanted to go- which was here. He hadn't had contact with you ever since, but thoughts of you plagued his mind making him desperate for a lick of attention from you. He wanted to give you time to heal but at this point it seemed the stench of depression on you had grown stronger everyday.

A thump sounded, snatching him away from his thoughts, as a priestess dropped off a giant stack of books in your cart to shelve. He watched as you winced at the noise, turning and sighing at the amount of books in the cart. Your eyes darkened and he knew that your mind went back to that awful place. He couldn't stand it- at this rate he was ready to put underwear on his head and dance like a maniac if it would make you smile. 

You. You, you, you, you. Every time he saw you, it was like everything else stopped- the world stopping, and you- your mere presence was demanding his attention. A room full of hundreds of females and males pining after him- wouldn't even take his attention from you if you were hiding in the corner.

Azriel cursed himself, realizing he was so- hopelessly and shamelessly falling for you.

__________________________

Your cart was filled with at least 60 books at this point. People never realize how much work goes into helping at a library. After- that day, you spent your time in between the shelves, putting books back where they belonged. Usually, the work was enough to distract you from what happened two months ago. But when it was late in the hours of night and it was just you and the quiet darkness, your thoughts always went to that same place.

Screams- men shouting- and then utter silence. Piercing hazel eyes were staring at you. Arms were wrapping around you, everything was eerily quiet now. You swear you could hear blood dripping onto the floor from the body of your sibling.

“No- my- don’t take me from them please-“

Your words fell on deaf ears, whoever was carrying you pushed your head into their shoulder. You couldn’t see your sibling anymore- your hands started clawing at the jackets of whoever was taking you away- they were taking you away from them-

“Hey- it’s okay, you’re safe now. I’ve got you, I’m gonna take you to a healer, okay?” The man said. His voice was oddly gentle and sad in a way- why was he sad? It wasn’t his family who was brutally murdered in front of him. It was yours, and he was taking you away from them. Your mouth opened to scream at him to let go, but your mind processed his words. Healer? Why did you need a healer? You couldn’t feel anything. It was like everything was numb. You forcefully lifted your head despite his hands trying to block your sight. You were now in your living room, and everything reeked of death. Blood was everywhere. In the corner your fathers corpse laid still, eyes wide and unblinking. His stomach had been cut open, his organs spilling onto the floor.

Your mouth opened in a silent scream. “Papa-“

You gasped as you heard a loud noise of something falling. It was late in the evening- barely anyone was here. It was just you and a few other priestesses, and they were graceful. They rarely  made loud noises like that.

 Your head snapped to where the noise was from, and you spot him.

The shadowsinger was squatted on the ground picking up a book he had dropped. His eyes scanned the room as if making sure nobody had seen him being clumsy, until they landed on you. His cheeks flushed a little, and he offered you a shy smile as he stood and placed the book back in its proper place.

You wondered how he managed to drop a book- he was the night court’s spy master for cauldron’s sake! His eyes didn’t leave yours once. Some of the priestesses gossiped of his beauty, and fuck. They weren’t lying. It obviously wasn’t your first time seeing him, but it was odd to see him down here. He must’ve had Clotho’s permission. His staring was enough to make you squirm uncomfortable, and you watched as he went to take a step towards you. Nope.

You slammed your last book for this section on the shelf and grabbed your cart, rolling it away- far away from the shadowsinger. You didn’t bother turning to see  his reaction as you stomped away, the racketing of the cart loud.

——————————————

Clotho shook her head with a sigh as she watched you run in. She waved a hand as you arrived at her desk, signaling she wouldn’t report you were late this time.This wasn’t the first time you had been late, here lately it was getting harder to get out of bed. The only reason you had managed to crawl out of your bed was because the memories were becoming too loud. 

You thanked her, nodding your head appreciatively as you walked to where you last left your cart. It had about 50 books, and without a doubt that number would rise as you made your way through the floors. You gave the cart a test push, and a squeaky racket sounded from it. It was getting louder everyday. Clotho flinched at the sound a look of distaste towards the cart would be on her face- you’re sure of it. She holds up a sticky note that reads, ‘I’ll put in an order for a new one today.’ You gave her a thumbs up before pushing your loud cart to where you would start off for the day. 

Time passes by either slowly or fastly depending where your thoughts are for the day, and you wonder if you’re going insane by the time it gets to 3 pm. Whether the growing insanity feeling is from the squeaky racket of your cart or the fact you forgot breakfast and lunch today, you’re not sure. The library gets old quick. The  first month you were here, it was easy to be distracted by the towering bookshelves and the thousands upon thousands of books you see everyday. But here lately the sights grow old, and the sound of this cart is enough to make you wonder if you should check yourself into a therapist. But atlas, you don’t. You continue the waltz of shelving books everyday. As the library grows more  boring everyday, you wonder if its the right place for you. You wonder if it was the right decision to stay here, considering you feel worse then you ever did. 

If it wasn’t for the fact if you left you wouldn’t have any idea what to do with your life, you would’ve asked the high lord to assist you in moving to Velaris. But what would you do with your life? Rot in bed all day? 

You hear a loud grumble, and you look around the library before realizing it was your stomach. It had been making unearthly sounds since 1 pm, yelling at you to eat. But it was too late, it was 3 pm. Your hands clutched at your stomach, begging it to stop. You’d eat dinner later around 5, just a few more hours away. 

Oh well, there wasn’t anything to be done. You grasped a book from your cart, turning and shelving it. Your stomach growled again, distracting you from the squeaky noise your cart made. But it didn’t hide the loud thumping noise- as if someone had tripped. You turned, only catching a glimpse of a dark shadow behind the bookshelves. Your steps were loud as you stomped out of the corner you had been in, looking for whoever it had been. But there was nothing. Nobody was near. This floor was empty except for you. Were you finally insane enough to hallucinate? You groaned in sync with your stomach as you turned back around, walking to your cart. A delicious smell- of chocolate and butter invaded your nose. You cursed whoever had entered the library with food that smelt so good, until you spotted the box sitting on your cart. That hadn’t been there. You approach your cart, eyeing the box. It was a white paperish box. You looked around again, scanning if anyone had left it here on accident but no one was near. 

Curiosity got the best of you and you slowly opened the box. In it was a collection of pastries. Chocolate croissants, cookies, cupcakes, fudge- the whole bakery practically! Your stomach growled in desire. You snapped the box shut- this wasn’t yours. Right? Someone probably accidentally left it. But one bite couldn’t hurt? No! You shouldn’t. That box was clearly worth around a 100 gold coins, it would be wrong to indulge in its wonderful contents. 

Fuck it. They shouldn’t of left it on your cart. You made quick work of opening the box and grabbing the most appetizing pastry there and shoving it down your throat. The flavors melted in your mouth, earning a moan of appreciation from you. 

Cauldron bless whoever was dumb enough to leave this box near you. 

———————————————

Azriel sat in his room at the house of wind, in the floor. His hands clutched at his face as he mentally cursed himself for tripping. 

He had tripped. The first time in his entire 500 years of being alive, he stumbled trying to get away from your cart. He could feel his face burning red as he rushed out of the library, Clotho with a knowing smirk as she observed him. Clotho had been granting him permission to enter the library on the excuse of wanting to get into reading more. And they both knew it was complete bullshit. But Clotho didn’t care, knowing he stayed away from all the other priestesses- except you. 

He had been watching you for a while now, realizing you had seemed to be getting worse. You had been coming in later and later every morning, forgetting meals every now and then. It was nerve wracking to him, he just wanted you better. And it seemed the library wasn’t helping you. He’d give it some time before he went to Rhys and asked if there was something else they could do for you.  He just wanted you to be alright. He didn’t care if you would never fall in love as he did, as long as you were happy he could live peacefully. 

Azriel hoped you would enjoy the pastries he had picked out for you. He hadn’t known what you would like best, so in a panic, he asked the manager to shove in a variety of their most popular pastries. 

Azriel still couldn’t get over the fact he had tripped. His mind has been going haywire ever since he rescued you. All he could think was you, you, you and, you! We’re you alright? Did you get up this morning? Did you eat? At this point it became clear he couldn’t even focus on the simplest of tasks like staying hidden. 

You had him in a chokehold. He was wrapped effortlessly around your finger, and you didn’t even know it. 

I hope you enjoyed! Lmk if you want part two. 💕

[illyrian-dreamer]

And Then There Were None – Part 2

Azriel/fem!reader

Synopsis: In the lead up to the war, Hybern releases a catastrophic spell that wipes out all humans, sparing just one.

Abandoned in the desolate human lands, you scavenge to survive long enough to find your family.

Reluctantly, you are found by the Shadowsinger as fate intervenes to guide you under his watchful eye.

<<&lt;Part 1

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: Death, blood, suggestions of miscarriage, suicidal themes

You woke in a bed as soft as the clouds, the covers silken with feathery pillows piled beneath your neck so plush your hardly felt them. 

A level of luxury you had never known could exist – and that’s how you knew you weren't home. 

Vision a blur, the room you woke to was dim, safe from the fire that crackled at the opposite end. Your vision reeled as it took in the space around you - an obnoxiously large bedroom. 

The haze lingered as you raised your hand in front of your face - a quick way to decide between reality or dream. If this were real, someone had done an awfully good job at scrubbing the dirt from your fingernails. 

But then a familiar ache throbbed as you bought your other hand from under the covers, and a stark white bandaged wrapped tightly at your wrist. Real then, and that fae male had indeed broken your wrist. The scars from your journey were faint now, but still there too. 

You felt for your stomach under the covers then, for any signs of your lingering ailment. They had changed you - thick cotton like padding within the fresh undergarment and the softest gown you had ever felt between your fingers.

You pushed the thought of who might have changed you from your mind. Healers - you hoped. 

Your skin beneath the gown was soft and oily, and smelt of salve. The healers had done well to heal you. Good, this was good. It meant you had a chance to return home, continue your search. 

Gods – the search, your family. You had to continue.

You were alone in this room, and it was night - all good signs. Perhaps with enough strength, you might slip be able to escape unnoticed…

With a slight dizziness, you swung your legs from the bed, toes pressing to the warm, rich wood - as if they floor was warmed from within. 

You wouldn’t dare to poke your head out the door - not in a house of creatures with heightened senses. 

The windows - that was your only option to remain unseen. 

Whether it was the delirium of the events days prior or the haze of exhaustion you were yet to shake, you didn't consider escaping into an unknown lands in nothing more than a nightgown was a fools choice, mortifying at the least. But survival called, your family called. 

Padding around the postered bed, you scanned quickly for your belongings . Clothes, waist belt, knives were no where to be found. 

The cupboard was empty, safe from a long black coat made from the softest velvet your had ever felt. Tying the fabric firm at your waist, you didn’t take the time to roll the sleeves that drooped well past your fingertips - clearly made for a much taller, larger form than your own. Black was good, especially at night, helping conceal the silky cream night robe that seemed to scream find me.

If you had the time, you would have marvelled at the  wall of windows - in shapes and sizes you didn't know a glass welder could blow. Arched in a row of three, each of them had smaller panes within - still large enough to fit through, and with latches. 

Perfect. 

You fiddled with the latch, the world outside dark and unmoving with no sign of light until you cast your eyes upwards. Fingers halting on the latch, your breath knocked from you chest as you observed the most brilliant array of stars you had ever seen. 

Were these the same stars as the human lands? How was it that such magnificent beauty was concealed from your own part of the world?

Another stab of loathing for fae found you then – it seemed even the Mother was versed in reserving luxuries only for them.

The latch clicked open, and you pushed gently against the pane, the window unmoving. Frowning, you pushed again, before trying to pull it inside instead. The glass moved on smooth, oiled hinges - and that’s when the howling began. 

As loud as a pack of wolves, yet that insistent noise was instead from wind. 

Fretting at the noise, you glanced behind you in urgency. Any second now they would come, the wind as good as any alarm. So with a strong grip on the window ledge, you pushed your head through, eyes squinting through the unforgiving gales. 

The wind almost knocked you, hair immediately whipping this was and that, eyes stinging with tears as you failed to see clearly.

Scanning as best you could, you saw no stairs of landings to climb to, no balcony from which you could hope to escape. 

And then you looked down.

It was instinct to back away, so fast that the back of your head knocked against the pane, and a quick profanity escaping your lips. 

You had never been so high up before. Never knew anything could be built so tall. 

With a roll of your stomach, you forced your head back out, avoiding looking anywhere below the horizon.

On the far left, hidden mostly by brick, was a distant glow of a city, the lights warm and flickering with glorious life. And between you and it - a river, it’s water the blackest of blacks in the night, besides from the reflection of the city that budded it’s banks. 

To your right - dark, intimidating forms of mountains and peaks. And with a quick flash below, far, far below, there was only night. 

Your gut lurched both from the height and realisation - it was suicide to try and escape. 

It took a moment to force your rigid muscles to push yourself back inside the room, hair strewn over your face and cheeks pink from the bite of the cold. 

“We don't usually advise opening the windows here,” a melodic voice spoke over the wind. 

Hissing in fright, you whipped your head behind you, to the most beautiful women you had ever seen. And beside her - the same blue siphoned male, his eyes aglow with hazel. 

You fished for your voice then, strained in your throat from days of not speaking, the rush from the wind and the awe of what and who stood before you fighting for silence. 

They were am incredibly handsome couple. 

Folded clothes in her hand, the blond simply placed the outfit on a spare reading chair, moving lightly to re-hatch the window behind you. You almost sighed in relief as the piercing howling stopped. 

“The windows are charmed to block out the noise,” she explained, her tone light and friendly despite the step of caution you took to distance yourself. “Well, don't you look good in black,” she perked, brown eyes scanning you, her smile sincere.

You looked down, the fabric of the coat drooping from your frame. 

“I stole this,” you said dumbly, before cursing yourself silently. 

The women laughed, and you could have sworn a slight smile pulled at the males lips too. 

“That’s quite alright, besides, you were awake before I could deliver you some proper clothes,” she gestured to the set she bought in, but you were fixed on those golden locks, the way they bounced when she moved, and that dress…

“I’m Morrigan by the way, but you can call me Mor.” If she caught you staring at her, she did not let on.

You frowned, senses returning, and you scanned the room again. Formalities, names, nicknames –completely unnecessary, unless…

“I must carry on with my search,” you said sternly, eyes darting between her and the blue-siphoned male. 

He knew. He would have told her.

Those large, towering wings pulled in tighter against his frame, and the male opened his mouth to respond. But Morrigon beat him to it. 

“You’re awake much earlier than the healers expected. They advised you may need a few more days rest.”

You tried to hide your panic, eyes scanning her, then the door, then where Azriel stood between it. 

Mor traced your eyes. “We are no threat to you,” she said gently.

You swallowed. “Then I am free to leave?”

Mor schooled her face into something softer, more sympathetic. “You may want to meet with out High Lord and Lady. I know they are eager to meet you.”

“Me?”

She nodded. “They wish to discuss your predicament.”

“Have they found my family?” you all but blurted, heart thundering with anticipation.

She shook her head then, her face falling more grave. “I’m sorry, I haven't any news.”

A gnawing at your stomach then - something was wrong. How long had they kept looking, had they found anyone? 

“How many days was I-?"

“Four,” the male answered, hands still clasped behind his back. There was no smile on his face, but it remained soft. 

“And up and about well ahead of the seven days the healers predicted! Quite the fighter you are Y/N,” Morrigan chirped.

You almost jumped at the use of your name. And then a scowl fixed on your face.

“My apologies!” More gasped quickly, and you missed the glare Azriel threw her way, Mor’s eyes meeting his with guilt. “Please forgive me, I forget that humans aren't accustomed to-"

“Mind reading?” you gritted, more exposed under the ridiculous ensemble of clothes you wore. You wish you could drown in the lengths of extra fabric. 

Mor wore a broken smile. “Of sorts, yes.” She paused then, fretting to fill the silence. “Would you like to change your clothes? They should be to your size.” 

You looked at the set neatly folded at the chair. 

“The healers have washed you, but we can draw you another bath if you’d prefer?”

Your cheeks reddened at the question, the male’s eyes politely finding somewhere else in the room to fix that gaze.

Was this their way of telling you that you smelt?

Humiliated and frustrated, your eyes narrowed on the male. “What is your name?”

Hazel flicked back to you, and he took a moment of silence to observe you before answering. “Azriel.”

You eyed him up and down, taking him in fully. Tall, large, muscled - your attempts to stab him would have been laughable. Delirious indeed. 

As he eyed you back, his gaze fixed your wrist, even while concealed beneath the velvet coat. “I am sorry to have hurt you.”

Civilised - far more civilised than you would have expected fae to be. 

You cleared your throat. “Well, I suppose I’m sorry for my attempts of murder.”

His mouth pulled into a polite smile, the apples of his cheeks glowing in the firelight. 

Mor chimed in then. “They told me you caught Azirel off guard, Y/N. Like I said - quite the fighter. Not just anyone can catch the Shadowsinger by surprise.”

Shadowsinger. As if at their mention, the furling, smoky shadows peaked from Azriel, and you let out a small yelp. It seemed it was your turn to be surprised. 

Without a whisper of a word, they withdrew into the Shadowsinger himself, as if scolded back into place. Azriel gave no hint of amusement as he kept watching you. 

Your eyes danced from him back to Mor, cheeks once again redening. 

“This is… overwhelming,” you admitted. 

Mor gave you a sympathetic smile, before placing a delicate, manicured hand on your shoulder. “A bath, then?”

You nodded, and she led you to the bathroom, candles lighting with the wave of her hand, and water now filling the marbled pool, steam quick to fill the room. 

You forget about Azriel in the other room as Mor closed the door behind her, marvelling at the arches and architecture, a new set of large windows in this room, this time facing the city. You padded there mindlessly, watching the twinkle of the town that beckoned. 

“Velaris,” Mor came to stand beside you. “Or, the City of Starlight. It’s location is well concealed, unknown by the other courts.”

You were reminded of the courts then, the brief lessons they had taught you at school. The divide of seven different courts, each ruled by a High Lord determined by their magic gifted the Mother and bloodline. Allies, enemies – it was complicated twining of politics and power. 

But you had never heard of Velaris. 

“This place is a secret?”

Mor nodded. “The true home of the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. A paradise they keep concealed, untouched by others.”

“Why?”

Mor chewed her cheek. “It’s safer this way,” she said simply. 

“And you trust me with such information?”

Mor’s brown eyes warmed, but something sadder hid behind them. “It doesn't seem fair to lie to you about your own whereabouts.”

You nodded, eyes finding the city beyond again. “You mentioned the High Lord and Lady want to meet. Rhysand and Feyre?” Your head ached at the strain to remember their names, but the information found you. 

Mor smiled at their names, and you remembered the way the males had too when they first found you. Loyalty coursed through them like some kind of magic. If you wanted to survive, you would be sure to respect their hierarchy. 

“Morrigan,” you swallowed, bracing yourself for an answer. “Please, what do you know of the search?”

Mor stiffened, pausing for a moment. “The High Lord and Lady are on their way home to meet with you. They will tell you all they know.”

You eyed her carefully, your heart straining. “They haven't found my family, have they?”

Mor’s face of sympathy was beautiful, whether schooled or real. “I’m sorry, I really can not tell you.”

You swallowed once before nodding, eyes casting out to the city of Velaris, the name foreign in your mind.

“They are travelling as fast as they can, and should be here within a few hours,” she reassured. How or where from you didn't bother to ask. 

“A bath then,” you nodded.

Mor smiled tightly. “Should you need anything, just ask. This house - the House of Wind - is just as alive as you and I. You should only have to speak what you wish.”

You nodded, hiding the overwhelming thought of a magical living house as the pool of warm scented water beckoned you with furls of steam.

“A fitting name,” you murmured, remembering of the persistent howl that waited just outside those obnoxious windows.

Mor grinned, catching your every word. “Isn’t it just,” she called and she fluttered from the room, pulling the large, carved door closed behind her. 

You took a few moments of silence, again scanning the marble-splayed room you now found yourself in. Dream or reality, you were still yet to be convinced. 

That was, until your dropped your undergarments, the thick wads of cotton stained with specks of bright, fresh blood. A saddened whimper escaped you, and your hands instantly found your belly, phantom cramps pulling from within. 

You thought about calling for Morrigon, to demand an answer or to see a healer again. But deep down you knew, and that instinct to protect yourself, your privacy, was greater. 

A waft of essential oils blew your way, as if the house was beckoning you to bathe. Toeing the water, each of your muscles seems to relax and steam clouded around you. An uncontrollable sigh left you as you moved deeper and deeper, breasts bobbing beneath the water, the muscles in your abdomen glad for the relaxant. 

You had never had a bath like this, never indulged in such a level of luxury. Was this how all fae bathed, or just the ones so closely aligned with royals?

It was a jarring comparison to the tin bath in your family home, the steam quick to escape from the batches of hot water your mother boiled in the kettle when you were young. As you grew older, you would often forgo using the kettle, bearing the bite of the cold for efficiency, only treating the children when you bathed them.

A shock of panic found you as the pool dipped even deeper, and you shot from your toes back to the scooped edges of the pool, clinging to the edge. Obviously built for creatures much taller and larger than you, while you on the other hand had never learnt to swim. Not when your parents were so busy, and the creek behind your home merely ankle deep.

Bathe, change, and then you would have your answers - you reminded yourself. So you scrubbed with determination, dipping your head beneath the water and rubbing the pads of your fingers at your scalp too, washing away any remains of the taxing journey it took to get here. 

You would start your search fresh, start anew, even swallow your hate for fae if it meant the help of the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. You could drink their wine and pass pleasant smiles if it meant they would aide you, if it meant your family returning home safely. 

———— 

You looked at yourself in the mirror, the black tunic and pants gifted by Mor fitting better than any of your skirts and dresses back home. The fabric was soft yet thick, protecting you from the cold, even while the House of Wind seemed to warm from within. 

There were slippers waiting by your bed, black also, and your skin seemed to glow from the oils from the bath. The face staring back at you was clean, yet tired, the bags under your eyes still a swell of purple. Forcing your shoulders back, you forced a stance of determination. You could do this, you could meet with the most powerful creatures of Prythian, and you would convince them to help you.

With a gentle knock at the door, a voice called. “It’s Mor.”

“Come in,” you answered turning from the mirror, hands finding the pockets on your pants.

Her eyes warmed at the site of you. “Black certainly does suit you,” she repeated, and you wondered about the comment from earlier. Loyalty to black, it seemed, was also a part of their strange culture. Perhaps something to do with the Night Court, and you wondered if the other courts found such ties to certain colours. 

“Thank you for the clothes. I will return them once-"

Mor raised her hand dismissevely. “We’d hear of no such thing. Are you ready?”

You nodded. “Are they?”

“Rhys and Feyre arrived a half hour ago. They await you in their office.” 

Mor seemed to want to take your hand, but rethought it, and instead raised a palm to the door. 

“Follow me,” she hummed before striding for the door, red gown trailing behind her. 

With a deep breath, you followed in silence.

————

“Here she is,” Mor cooed musically as she pushed the doors open to the office, the High Lord and Lady stopping their polite conversation with as they turned to take you in. 

Your knees almost buckled under their gaze.

That power, even as a human you felt it from many steps away, steely blue and violet eyes seemingly pinning you to your spot. A heavy dose of intimidation overcame you and your body faltered, even though their eyes remained soft, their smiles friendly. 

They both stood, Rhysand donned in a neat black suit, Feyre’s dark gown falling from her frame like liquid night. Gorgeous – an absolutely gorgeous sight the both of them were. 

“A pleasure to meet you,” Feyre spoke, her voice and as smooth as Morrigon’s, yet younger. 

“Welcome to our home,” Rhysand added. 

Blinking between the two, your knees almost groaned as you forced a curt bow. “Thank you, High Lord and High L-Lady,” you stammered. “For your hospitality.”

You waited for any sign of compliance from your bow - knowing that fae spoke a language of hierarchy and formality. 

But your were instead met with an informal sideways smile of Feyre. “Please, call us Rhys and Feyre.”

You nodded, although you couldn't see yourself respecting that wish. 

“Are you feeling any better?” Rhysand asked, violet eyes piercing, refusing to leave you. “We were told you had survived almost a fortnight on your own. That is very impressive.”

You weren't sure you’d ever get used to the unblinking ways of the fae as you blushed at his compliment. Had their parent’s never taught them it was rude to stare?

The smallest of smiles tugged at Rhys’s lips.

But you muffled your thoughts, forcing yourself to answer. “Feeling much better, thank you High Lord. You swallowed tightly, fishing for the right words to say. “And to your healers,” you added with rush. “Thanks to them too.”

“I am glad,” Rhysand smiled, moved back into his seat and gesturing for you to do the same.

“I’ve informed Y/N that you would update her on the search for the humans, to explain your own findings.” You could have kissed Mor for steering the conversation, desperate to hear what the High Lord and Lady had to say. 

Feyre immediately began fiddling with the fingers, before Rhysand took them in his own hand. You observed closely at the small interaction, Feyre’s nervous fidget, Rhysand’s immediate response. They seemed to speak na unspoken language.

Not good, not good, not good. Your nails instinctively settled into familiar wounds at your palms.

“Of course,” Rhysand answered, his beautiful features schooling into something more serious as his voice softened. 

Feyre’s eyes found you then, something like regret and sorrow burrowed within. In that moment alone, their difference in upbringing was at contrast. Rhys - ever the schooled socialite, tamed and controlled behaviour from years of perfecting courteous mannerisms. Feyre on the other hand – human, child-like sincerity shone through despite her pointed ears and occasional glimpse of canines. 

“I’m sorry to say that we have not found your family Y/N,” Rhysand said straightly. 

You nodded, assuming that had been the case. That didn't stop the sting in your eyes, or lurch of you gut. You clamped your lips against the wobble that already threatened.

“The truth is, we haven’t found a single human since finding you.”

Instantly the room began to reel, Rhysand and Feyre tipping slightly as your heart skipped to an irregular thunder. 

How could this be? You had been asleep for four days, between their armies and winged beings among them, how could they not find a single other? Your mind screamed a flurry of questions, but your remained stiff, only moving to grip the arms of your chair. 

Rhysand sighed then, glancing once at his mate who’s look of regret only deepened, tears shining in those grey-blue eyes. 

“It is with the deepest regret that we inform you we have traced a powerful magic from the lands of Hybern. A spell, rather.”

You forced your voice past the lump in your throat, past the bile that swarmed in your mouth. “What spell is that?”

Tears spilled from Feyre’s eyes, whatever control she had on her breaking into unmistakable grief. 

No, no don’t say it - your mind screamed. 

“As spell to kill all humans,” she whispered. 

You blinked. And the others watched, waiting.

You blinked a few more times.

"What did you say?"

Rhys's frown was pained. "It seems Hybern was intent on capturing your lands, and used a magic so strong it expelled humans..."

But Rhys's voice grew muffled as your vision narrowed, clouding with darkness.

And then it hit you.

It was as if someone had pulled the floor from underneath you. The room tipped unforgivably, vision blurring and stomach lurching with the lack of food in days.

A broken noise escaped you.

“Y/N, you must breath,” a voice spoke.

Panicked, laboured breaths wheezed from you, and you clenched your eyes shut past the horror of what they had told you.

Meek breaths passed your chest as you tried to speak. “I don’t-how, I don't understand.”

“Hybern has access to the cauldron, and we believe he used it to seize the territory of human lands.”

“It worked then, then spell? They’re gone?” You voice was hoarse, breathy with distraught. Tears had not found you yet, only an overwhelming dread laced with a flicker of denial.

Even while the room danced around you, you caught Rhysand’s tight nod, his face grave and solemn. “We are so sorry.”

Mor’s hand was gentle at your back, as an all consuming anxiety took over and you clutched at your head.

“Please do not touch me,” you rasped, audible wheezes catching in your throat.

Immediately her hand lifted.

“Dead, then,” you swallowed another rise of bile, raising frantic eyes to Feyre.

Broken eyes locked with yours. “I’m so very, very sorry Y/N” she whispered.

“My family, my siblings? Dead?”

She was crying, but you didn't care. You waited for the answer. All she offered was a nod. 

A broken, crazed laugh found you then. It was a cold, lonely thing, and you caught Mor exchange a look with her High Lord. There was nothing they could do except watch as you ran shaking hands over your face. 

You were trembling, eyes dancing frantically. No. No no no. This was unbelievable. You didn't believe them, you refused to.

“Impossible,” you scoffed.

“We wish it were, Y/N truly,” Mor said softly.

“Then pray tell, how it is that I survived?”

“We’re perplexed by you remaining, Y/N. We have no answer for it,” Rhys offered, a tanned hand stroking at Feyre’s back in practiced comfort. 

“Liar,” you snarled, standing so quickly your chair fell back. 

Liars - the lot of them, to tell you of the extinction of humans when you sat there alive and well in their home. 

Rhys’s eyes pinned you, as if expecting your outburst. “I can’t begin to imagine your grief Y/N, but we tell no lies.”

“I don't believe you,” you spat, hands curling into trembling fists. “You wish to keep me here, to trap me!” Anger rose within you. Typical fae tricks and fibs, that's all this was. 

“I would have thought the same thing if I were still human,” Feyre coaxed, wiping at her eyes. “I don't blame you for not trusting us. I truly wish we were lying.”

Something in her sincerity knocked you, cracking at your anger, demanding you to consider their words true. 

But your shook your head stubbornly, crazed by their audacity, distancing yourself from the devastation that loomed underneath.

“I will not stay here and listen to this.”

You heeded for the door, pulling on the handles with trembling hands, only to find that blue siphoned male waiting on the other side. 

Azriel.

His arms were neatly tucked behind his back, legs wide and ready as if waiting for you.

If only you had your knife.

“You will let me leave,” you all but growled, eyes darting from behind him back to his frame, looking for your way out. He bore no weapons this time , but it wasn't as if he needed them.

Azriel’s eyes softened. “I can’t.” His voice was soft and steady. “It’s not safe for you out there.”

Your fists clenched tighter. “I don’t care! I will not sit here prisoner, I need to find the truth for myself.” 

You made to step around him, but those rippled hands gripped you, from the shoulders this time. 

“Let go of me!” You struggled against him, but his grip remained strong.

“Listen to me. Hybern has sent an army and they sweep the human lands as we speak. I saw it for myself – if they find you, they will kill you.”

The integrity in his voice, deep down you knew he was telling the truth, even if you refused to believe it. Because believing it meant you had lost everything, everyone. It meant the cruelest punishment from the gods - not another day with the laughter of your siblings, the caress of your mother or hold from your father. No home, no love, no warmth - just a bobbing existence, with grief as your only friend. 

Perhaps that’s why you started sobbing, still trying to pry Azriel’s hands from you with his own. 

“I don’t care, I don’t care!” you cried, voice breaking as fat tears rolled down your cheeks. “I want my family!”

Azriel cast a worried look back to the others who could only watch with pained expressions. 

Mor sprung into action, fetching a blanket from a nearby room.

“You are liars, territorial murderers, the lot of you! How could you let this happen?” your voice was hoarse once again, your knees buckling as shock took over. 

Azriel moved with you, gently bringing you to the ground as you wept, your legs folding underneath.

The blanket was strewn around you gently, Azriel’s touch surprisingly tender. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice a strangely soothing balm against your turmoil. "I wish things were different. But your safety is paramount."

You wanted to fight against it, to push and claw and burrow in the bubble of denial, but you hadn’t any energy left.

Waking to an empty home, to empty streets, days of travel without another human in sight – perhaps you knew all along that this nightmare was real.

The room continued to spin as reality sunk in. Your family, gone. Your siblings, so young, so innocent. The humans wiped clean from the world. A full scale genocide, and you were the only one to survive it. 

"They were children," you wailed, your words a harrowing cry. "They were only children."

Injustice, isolation and grief was leaden on your chest, so constricting and heavy you thought you might die. 

“I-I can’t breath.” One palm braced on the wooden floor, the other against your heart as you began to pant. Eyes darting between the fae that watched on, you clutched at your chest, panic swarmed with bile. 

And then you made sick. 

Azriel's grip didn't falter, and someone moved to pull the hair from your stinging eyes. 

"Try to focus on your breathing, Y/N," a voice coaxed in your mind, male or female you couldn’t tell. "In and out, slowly."

But the air felt thick, suffocating, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on you. Each breath seemed to be a struggle against an invisible force, and panic tightened its grip around your heart.

That voice in your head again. ”Just keep breathing," it said gently, the voice cutting through the haze of your panic. "Focus on my voice. You're safe here, I promise."

The words were like a lifeline in the storm raging within you, and you clenched your eyes shut, clinging to it.

Rhysand approached cautiously, his expression a mixture of sympathy and sorrow. "Az," he prompted, and the male raised from his knees.

Rhysand crouched down in front of you, his gaze unwavering. "We'll explain everything after you've rested Y/N, I promise," he said, his voice carrying the weight of truth.

And as the room slowly ceased its relentless spinning, you found yourself clinging to that promise, holding onto the hope that amidst the devastation, there was still a path forward, however uncertain it may be.

The world outside was dangerous, filled with uncertainty and threats you couldn't begin to comprehend. And Hybern. He had killed your family. Your siblings, those sweet innocent children who you loved so dearly. Your parents too.

Sobs wracked through you again, your body giving out as you let out a muffled whimper of grief.

Strong arms slid from under you turning you over to cup you by your arms and knees. And then you were being carried, away from that horrible scene, from the mess on the floor where your world came crashing down. 

You clung to whatever you could, the blanket, Azriel’s shirt, you didn't really care – but you clung and cried. Even when you were again met with the softness of a mattress, even when the weight of the duvet being drawn over as it settled against your skin. 

In that tumbleweed of devastation, a rippled hand soothed you, coaxing you to sleep. You gladly let it, letting the horrors of the world slip away, even if only for a moment. 

“Just rest now. You are safe.”

And with a final thought, you sent a prayer to the Mother to not wake up to this nightmare.

A/N: Hey pals, thank you so so much for the love and support of Part 1!! I sincerely hope you liked part 2! <3 <3 Now would you like some fries with that angst? Because it'll only get darker from here. Again, I'll tag everything I can at the top of the fic, but please have a look at the warnings ahead, I would hate to hurt anyone <3 <3 If you'd like to join the tag list for this fic, drop a comment! Thank you so much for reading, mwa!!

[knoxic]

How to be a High Lady?

How they met

Eris Vanserra x Mate!Reader (f)

Summary: How they met and her discovering the bond.

wc: 3k

warnings: death of family members, fire (non explicit house burning/death by fire), cursing

a/n: Eris being 🤭😍😁😝🤗 whenever she's like 🤨🙄😠😒 is so important to me

part 1, part 2

For months now she tried to put herself back together, trying to move on, but being alone was hard, especially for someone who had always been surrounded by people. Her coven was her family, its oldest members helped her mother give birth to her, helped raise her, its youngest had grown up with her, they all made her who she was now. And they were gone.

Gone, and she wasn't even there to witness it. She was far away, traveling, enjoying everything there was to enjoy, not a single drop of worry in her head, after all, they had promised they'd be fine. She didn't even come back straight away, no, it was weeks after, their house had stopped burning long ago, what was left of it stood black and cold, filled with ashes and sorrow.

She had found herself a place to live but she didn't remember how she did it, everything seemed so... unrealistic, never did it cross her mind that this could happen to them. Days after she came back, when she absolutely needed to get food, she went out in the village to the same place her coven used to go, no one recognized her, maybe they never really pay attention to her or they just didn't care, a way or another, she was glad no one looked her way twice. On the way to her new home she heard whispers about a witch who lived in Autumn, thinking it was her, she stopped and pretended to be examining the bread basket they had placed in front of their bakery.

"Do you think she cursed him? I did see him limping yesterday." One of the males spoke, his voice had a weird accent, from another court then.

"What are you? An idiot?" The baker slapped him in the back of his neck, "That cripple always limped! I heard he asked her to fix his fucked up leg but she couldn't, so he did that." His hands, sprinkled with flour, gestured behind the other male, as if pointing to said 'that'. Her shaky hands dropped the apple she held, the direction the male pointed led to her old house, which meant that whoever this cripple was, he had burned her house, he killed her family.

She ran, faster than she ever had before. Her legs only stopping when her feet met the dirty floor, the rain and wind from the past few weeks had gathered around the ruins laying there, the walls had turned moldy, weeds grew where the tiles had broken. It was all a mess, and still her knees touched it, her arms braced her body, the bare skin of her thighs had gotten wet but she couldn't decide if it was from her tears or the rain, which she didn't even realize had started. She looked up, droplets of rain caressing her face, the sky lighting up with a roaring thunder.

She redeemed herself that day, not feeling sorry for herself for losing her family, she only felt sorry for the way they died and how early it had been for some of them. She found out her old neighbors had buried their bodies in the backyard of their house, their tombs placed one beside the other, straight away she went to her house to gather what she needed for a proper funeral, so that their souls could finally rest.

After that day she busied herself with work, working as a healer for the village, subtly gathering information about her family's murderer, filling herself with knowledge, learning whatever witchcraft she hadn't been taught and anything else that could be useful in the future.

At night it was difficult to shut her brain off, the only time she couldn't distract herself from the grief by focusing on other people's pain. Lately, whenever she managed to sleep, basically passing out from exhaustion, her visions came in the form of dreams, most of them just showed her what kind of help her clients needed. That was until she started seeing red.

A faceless head surrounded by red hair haunted her dreams, resembling a bird's nest from how messy it was, the noise of crackling fire in the background. It had been a week now and she couldn't manage to have a dreamless sleep, she never complained about seeing another person's life, she actually liked seeing their memories, most of the time it allowed her to see life in a different perspective, sometimes it wasn't a good one, but she still learned something new every time. Now she was really starting to hate these memories, whoever it was that demanded her attention was starting to get really annoying.

She set aside her job to focus entirely on the vision, spending her afternoons walking around the villages instead, occasionally stopping at restaurants or bakeries, visiting libraries and sitting around whenever she found a bench. Not once had there been any indication of who this person could be besides their hair, she didn't even know their gender, she caught a blur of the pale skin of a pointy ear but that was all.

If it wasn't for the tasty foods she got to try, her time would've been completely wasted. She met a redhead once but her hair was way too perfect, completely different from the one on her dreams, and she didn't seem in need of anything. After a whole week, she gave up, started meditating instead, clearing her mind and focusing her thoughts on that annoying redhead, wishing that whoever it was, would find their way to her.

For a couple nights, the dreams stopped, maybe it was the herbs tea she had been drinking before bed, or maybe they had fixed their problem themselves and didn't need her help anymore. The next morning she woke up and decided she'd spend the day in her village again, just to be sure.

The day had been going relatively normal, as soon as she stepped out of bed she started feeling a little lightheaded but didn't think too much of it, now as she walked through a small trail on the way home, a path she rarely took, she felt dizzy, her heart beating so hard she could barely hear anything else. She knew there was a bench a few meters away, if she walked a little faster maybe she'd managed before passing out, but she wasn't in that trail anymore, now she stood in front of a cabin. A very cozy looking cabin, from the open curtains she could see a male placing logs in the fireplace, it was too dark to see his face so she stood silently until he started the fire, she didn't know what she expected but... his hands lighting up with flames definitely didn't cross her mind. The log he held caught fire immediately, the male seemed to have no rush in placing it with the other logs, his eyes reflecting the flames like they also burned.

Her sight got blurry again and the familiar forest appeared around the edges, his face being the only thing clear, she couldn't, wouldn't, look away. The red strands of hair that brushed against his delicate eyelashes, his perfect nose, his flushed cheekbones, his perfect plump lips and his captivating golden eyes, she was fascinated.

"Are you alright?" A rough voice snapped her out of whatever that was. Only now noticing she had crouched down, one of her hands braced on her knee, the other massaged her eyes, trying to clear her sight.

"I asked you a question." The male demanded, a warm hand, way too hot to be normal, touched her shoulder.

"Yes, sorry," she closed her eyes and shook her head lightly, "Just dizzy, I guess." She giggled, amazed that she was so struck by a male she'd never seen before, and it was only a vision.

When her eyes opened, she was met with a the cleanest pair of boots she had ever seen, even with pieces of leaves stuck under the soles it still shined, beside his feet was paws. A heavy breathing close to her ear made her jump, her shaky legs pulling herself up and away from the small smokehound who tried jumping on her, landing on their owner's outstretched hand.

"Forgive me, he's young," the male adjusted the hound on his arms, cradling it like a baby. "I'm still training him." He said, locking eyes with her.

Those burning golden eyes that she saw just moments ago were now amber, looking at her so intensely she almost backed away.

"What?" He asked, his eyebrows furrowed. She supposed having a stranger stare her down would make her uncomfortable too.

"Sorry, I thought–"

"You keep apologizing..." he muttered, looking almost annoyed.

"I had seen you before." Her voice sounded weak, she was still processing that the male she had been literally dreaming about was right there, not to mention that the most vivid vision she ever had had just happened and it was about him.

Why?

"Well, you might have."

"Who are you?" She questioned and could swear he almost seemed offended.

"I– You don't know who I am?" He lifted an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. Gods, he really was annoying.

"I should?"

He laughed, a deep sound that she swore she could feel in her bones, the hound in his arms whined at being disturbed from his sleep.

"Yes." He dropped the puppy to the floor, her eyes followed the motion and finally seeing the many other hounds who surrounded the male, what the fuck?  "I'm Eris Vanserra." He gave out his hand for her to shake.

"Ah..." His hand on hers felt wonderful, a comfortable touch she hadn't felt in over a year. She distantly heard herself telling him her name but her mind was wholly focused on his touch, the firm grip he had on her hand, the calloused fingers that somehow still felt soft. Why was it so confusing? Not only was he the annoying male that prevented her from sleeping peacefully, he was also irritatingly beautiful. The Mother must be laughing at her face right now. It didn't even look like he needed help!

"You still don't know, do you?" The fucking smirk still hadn't left his face.

"Uh," What even was his name again...Vanserra? Fucking shit.

It was an explicit rule in her coven that they never came close to the Vanserra family. They didn't mess with politics and royalty, their family consisted of many types of fae, even mixed ones, the High Lord hated people like them. Beron hated lesser fae and therefore the people who liked them.

"You're the High Lord's son." Any good thoughts about him were pushed to the back of her mind by guilt, what would her family think if they heard her calling him beautiful?

"And suddenly you're pulling away..." His hand dropped hers after feeling her hold go slack, "Not fun to bicker with the High Lord's son is it?" The smirk on his face turned into a sad smile, his eyes dropping to watch the hounds at his feet. Now the small horde of smokehounds made sense.

"It's not..." she felt sad for him, "It's not smart." She couldn't tell him exactly why she it wasn't fun to be around him.

"Hm, right." His hands slipped into the pockets of his chocolate colored trousers, the hound closest to him perked his ears at the move, Eris slipped a hand out and gave him a bone shaped treat, his hand went back into his pocket and fished out several more treats for the rest of them. She watched amazed.

"So, are you going to tell me why you were crouching down here looking like you would pass out?" His head still didn't down.

"I was dizzy." She said simply, he didn't need to know the reason for her dizziness.

"I gathered that. Why?" He all but rolled his eyes.

"Why what?" She snapped.

"Why were you dizzy?" She could swear she saw the corner of his lip curl upwards.

"Why do you care?" Her braced her arms against her chest, cocking her head at him, he hesitated to answer.

"I don't. Are you going home or do you plan on being here all day?" He started walking around, glancing at both sides of the trail.

"You make a lot of questions..."

"And you seem hesitant to answer them..." He finally looked her way, his eyes filled with something she couldn't exactly place. "What are you hiding?"

"Nothing you need to know." Her voice reached his ears like music, her attitude enticing him.

"I'm just teasing you, honey." He laughed, stepped closer to her, slowly enough that she could step away if she wanted to. She didn't. "May I walk you home?"

"You shouldn't." She suddenly wasn't so sure.

"That's not a no..." he cocked his head.

"That's not a yes either..." she mirrored him.

They stared at each other for a while, when his eyes drifted away from hers she took the moment to admire him, not noticing he admired her too.

"Sir..." A voice snapped them out of their little moment. The male stood a few steps away, clad in Autumn colors of armor. "The High Lord demands your presence." Eris nodded at him and he turned away, walking in the direction of her home.

"So, I should be going." Eris said after the male was far enough, the sad smile making its comeback. She wasn't sure what came over her when she answered.

"My house is that way." She looked at the corner the male had just turned.

Eris didn't say anything, only held his arm out and gave her a smirk. She took his arms and they walked silently, his smokehounds close behind, one of them keeping up with him like a shadow, the puppy found their way around her legs.

"He seems to like you, which is weird, they hate everyone." He gave her a sideways glance, "Did you enchant him or something?"

"I don't need to do that." She kept looking at the trail, pretending she didn't see him looking at her with a smile.

They reached her house in silence, a beautiful cottage, a small version of her old home, the front yard was filled with medicinal herbs, a beautiful garden she took pride on. When she tried to pull her arm away from him, his hold tightened, his hand resting on hers.

"Nice garden you got... Hm, Echinacea, Asiatic pennyworth, Calendula..." He patted her hand lightly before dropping it and looking down at her. "Are you a healer?" He smiled.

"Yes." She didn't offer more information.

"Good, always good to know a healer." He nodded. "Well, I must be going, have a good evening, My Lady. Hope to see you around." He bowed while gently lifting her fingers and kissing the back of her hand, when he straightened back his lips still carried that smile. What an adorable smile.

He turned away before she said anything, his hounds followed him with hurried steps, all but one.

"Eris!" She shouted, making him turn back quickly. "The puppy..." She pointed to the small hound at her feet, looking back at them both as if wondering why he was suddenly the sole attraction.

"Oh–" his hand rubbed the back of his neck, his mouth opened and closed but no sound came out, he glanced at another hound who didn't seem to care if the puppy was missing. "Well, keep him, he seems to like you better than me anyway." Eris laughed, his cheeks a tinged pink.

"What? No. I can't–"

"Please, if you're going to keep passing out in those woods, you might need someone to get help for you," he teased. "Besides, it would give me an excuse to see you again, I can train him for you, or teach you how to train him." She feared the smile he gave her at that moment, showing his dimples and perfect teeth, would haunt her forever.

She couldn't argue back fast enough, she wanted someone to keep her company, when she tried to reason with him he was already turning his back on her, whistling to the hounds as if showing that even if he called, the puppy wouldn't leave her.

Years later, she found herself going back home to him. That annoying redhead.

A couple months ago Eris had shown her the cabin he built for them, it was a dream they had in common, building their lives together in a small place. Eris had grown up in a large palace that never felt like a home, he hated the tall ceilings and the maze of corridors, the whole place was filled with servants and guards and still felt empty. She had grown up in a house perhaps too small for the amount of people that lived there, the children were separated into pairs, and they loved the arrangement, some of the adults were couples so they naturally shared rooms too, only her mother and another female had rooms for themselves.

They were raised in completely differently homes and yet their dreams were the same. All they needed was a house big enough to fit both of them comfortably and enough space outside to build more rooms in the future. Their love was the structure of their home and the backbone of their family.

She walked slowly with her hound, Cole, a nickname for Collected, because he's anything but collected. His tail kept bumping her leg, how he could still be excited even after walking for hours was beyond her. Her garden came into view first, then their porch, then she saw Eris from the open window. All of a sudden she was brought back to years ago, a chill running down her spine, to the first time she had a clear vision of him, the way he was moving logs around the fireplace, she remembered clearly how in the next few moments his hand would light up in fire. She had forgotten that vision thinking it was someone's old memory, but it was hers, he was lighting up the fireplace so she would come back to a warm home. Now as she stood there, Cole by her side, watching her lover, she couldn't help falling more in love with him, now she knows why this memory was shown to her that day, why it was so important.

Eris Vanserra was her mate, and now her heart and soul belonged to him.

Taglist: @callsigns-haze, @lilah-asteria, @mybestfriendmademe, @coldmermaidhologram

a/n²: I made Eris name specific plants used for... wounds... and preventing scars from getting larger...

a/n³: I literally sat for a moment looking at the screen like I had just written a murder scene (the first paragraphs of reader's backstory didn't faze me that much, what's wrong with me)

[fanwarriorfictions]

Not Again - Part Twelve

Summary: Y/n is desperate to save her mate, they keep telling her he will be fine, but she knows something is wrong

Warnings: ANGSTY!!!! Madja is a good healer I swear, it’s solely for the plot

Series Masterlist

-Part Twelve-

Wake up, please wake up. Faint, desperate words in his mind. Not his shadows, the voice was female, with a soft, swirling accent like the mountain breeze running through his hair. There’s a feeling, like this female is everything, that he needs to get to her, to tell her something. Fight, Az, come back.

He tried, so hard, it hurt to much.

Mate, mate, mate.

The word beats in her head in time with his heart. She could feel it, beating in time with her own, across the bridge between their souls, the shadowy tether that she could feel like another limb connecting them.

Mate, mate, mate.

Azriel was her mate, this male, laying before her, thick bandages wrapped over the wound on his chest from the arrow he took because of her. Because of a broken goddess, because she knew the anger, the ferocity caused by a mate being hurt, would unlock that fire in Y/n, Mala’s own power, the only thing strong enough to finally kill her. Her mother had only a drop of it left, Y/n had inherited a deep well of it, deeper than she thought she had, a final gift from Mala.

Amren theorized that Deanna had opened the gate that brought Y/n to them. That she was trying to bring Y/n to whatever world she’d been trapped in, to use the power in her veins to gift her the death she desired, but something happened when the gate opened, the bond between her and Azriel had altered her course, had brought her to him. A gift from the Wyrd, to find her mate all the way across the stars.

Mate, mate, mate.

The gate Y/n had opened had been hijacked by Deanna before it could find Terrasen, and the goddess was able to take the Walking Dead and open her own gate. Amren assumed that, without Deanna’s interference, the gate would work as it should, that they would be able to try it again. She could go home now, could see her parents, her family, Terrasen.

Mate, mate, mate.

It had been nearly a week, since Deanna, since that arrow had pierced Azriel’s chest and she had felt that mating bond between them. Felt it thin as his heart slowed in his chest. It had felt like she was dying with him. A healer, Madja, had tried to lay her hands on him, Y/n had been so deep in a furious red haze that she almost burned the female alive. A red shield had surrounded her as Cassian had ripped her away, she’d almost killed him too, Madja had to heal the burns left on his arms. Feyre had been the one to finally calm her down, arms covered in cold water so she could hold onto Y/n’s scorching skin.

“He’s okay!” She had screamed, when the water had started to boil. “She’s healing him, Y/n look! It missed his heart, he’s okay!”

Y/n had watched the arrow clatter to the floor, the blood coating it, and the wound slowly stitching together beneath the healer’s hands. Feyre let her go, only when Y/n had gone practically limp in her arms. She’d crumbled to the floor, no longer supported by the High Lady, and she crawled towards him, laid down beside him, and pulled on that bond, refusing to let him go.

A week had passed, and she hadn’t attempted to open a gate, to go home, she’d barely even left his room. She couldn’t, not when he was still asleep, not when this bond in her chest was the only indication that he was still alive. Would she still feel it if she left? Will it feel like when he’d almost died, that thinning, that pain, that fear? The thought was so terrifying, so painful, she couldn’t even attempt it, wouldn’t step in that room that still smelled of his blood.

Wake up, shadowsinger, please.

He didn’t.

The inner court checked on her and Azriel periodically, rotating through, Rhys, Feyre, Cassian, Mor, Nesta, Elain, Lucien, over and over again. Even Amren had visited a few times, she’d been the one to finally drag her to the dining room to eat with the rest of the court.

“You can come back and wallow in your misery after you eat, girl.”

Amren didn’t practice kindness, not in the way many would. Forcing her out of that room, quite literally dragging her down the hall, was her form of being kind, of reaching out to make sure Y/n was okay. She wasn’t, she was far from okay, but she let the tiny female force her into her seat, met the concerned eyes of each of the court members, and ate whatever the house forced onto her plate.

“He’ll be okay,” Cassian says gently, his own voice weighed down by his concern for his brother, “Madja has healed worse injuries, he’s had worse.”

She didn’t want to know what those injuries were, “I know.”

“Y/n-“

“How long did you all know,” she cuts him off, looking between each of them, “That he and I were mates? I’m assuming you all know.”

A few of them had the decency to look ashamed. Feyre especially, who gives her mate a hard stare, no doubt speaking to him in his mind. By the way he winces, Y/n assumes it’s not a pleasant conversation.

“After the fight you two had,” Rhys starts, “I had Amren ask the Book of Breathings for more answers, she wrung the information out of it. I told Azriel what it had said, I left it to him on how to tell you.”

After their fight, when he’d disappeared for hours and hours, when she’d felt so lost and miserable, an echo of how he felt. He’d come back, had known exactly how awful she was feeling, called her a coward.

“I wanted to tell you,” Feyre says, glaring at her family around her, “I know how awful it is to be left in the dark-“

“He should have told me,” Y/n says, no heat, no anger, “Azriel should have told me.”

Cassian winces at the cold emptiness in her voice, “He wanted to, but he didn’t want to burden you with it, to hold you back from getting home.”

“He should have told me,” she says again, voice so cold, “He doesn’t get to call me a coward, while he was hiding this.”

“Y/n,” Mor’s gentle voice, “He didn’t want to hurt you.”

Of course he didn’t, that’s not why she was upset. She knew that Azriel cared about her, cared enough that he would suffer beneath the weight of this mating bond alone so she wouldn’t have to. He would take an arrow for her, again and again, and that was terrifying, that he would die for her without ever telling her why. That he would die and leave her behind knowing that she lost the mate she hadn’t even known she’d had.

Y/n stands, ignoring the pity in their eyes, the understanding in the eyes of the High Lady’s, the anger on her behalf from Nesta, the disappointment from Amren. She didn’t want any of it, any of them, she wanted her mother, her father, her family. More than anything, she wanted Azriel.

Days passed, Azriel kept sleeping. Something was wrong, so unbelievably wrong, he should have woken by now, he’d been asleep to long. Y/n couldn’t do anything, the panic pressing down like the mountain had crumbled around her, pinning her beneath the red stone. She yanked on that bond, begging and yelling for him to, wake up, wake up, please, Az, wake up.

Nothing, just that faint steady presence of his heartbeat, the bridge of shadows dark on his side like he couldn’t even dream in his sleep.

Madja looked him over, changing his bandages, she found nothing wrong, he just needed rest. That’s what they all kept telling her, he’ll be okay, Y/n, he needs to rest.

She wanted to scream, to burn the next fae that told her he was okay, he wasn’t, something was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Please, Azriel, I need you to wake up.

He wanted to tell her something, needed to tell her something. He tried so hard to wake, to reach for her, but he couldn’t.

I’m here, Princess. I’m here.

“Help,” she’s screaming, “Help, please! Cassian!”

Azriel’s body violently shakes beneath her hands, his skin hot and coated in sweat. She’d woken to his limbs colliding with her own, part of her had thought he’d woken up, but when she’d shot up, seen his eyes still closed, felt the intense pain coming from him down the bond, she screamed and screamed for help.

A seizure, he was having a seizure. She’d spent time in the southern continent, at the torre with her aunt. Learning the basics of healing because she was fascinated with it as a young teenager. There had been a man who was yelling for help, his wife had collapsed in the street and she was shaking. The healers had helped her, her aunt had described the situation as a seizure, told her what to do. She knew what to do, but in this moment she was panicking to much to do it.

The door slams open, Cassian running, dagger in hand, “Mother above.”

“Get the healer,” she screams, “Get Rhys, Feyre, anyone, please!”

That far away look in his eyes, “They’re on their way, just hold on.”

“Help me turn him on his side,” Y/n pleads, forcing herself to breathe, to do what her aunt had instructed her to do.

Cassian rushes to her, helping her haul his brother up and onto his side, “How long has he been like this?”

“I don’t know, a few minutes maybe,” she says, “Where’s Madja?”

“Almost here,” he answers, that look in his eye, “Rhys is flying them up now.”

Y/n gently holds Azriel, his shaking form beneath her palms, whispering down that shadowy bridge between them, You’re okay, it’s going to be okay, it’s okay.

She didn’t believe herself at all. Not even when the seizure subsided, not when Madja had arrived with a frantic Rhys in tow, not when she checked him over and found nothing outwardly wrong with him.

“All we can do is wait,” Madja says, laying a gentle hand on Y/n’s shoulder, before leaving with Rhys and Cassian.

She couldn’t wait anymore.

The room is pitch black, the moon and stars covered by clouds in the sky, the only light comes from the small candle in her hand. It still smells of his blood, the whole room reeks of it, his combining with her own.

The cut on her arm was a dull ache, barely noticeable beneath the pain and fear in her heart. Her blood was warm on her fingertips, she pressed them to the floor and drew, drew the symbols she’d memorized, drew the name she had learned as a child, one of many.

Her voice sounded hallow in her ears, the painful words tearing through her vocal chords. The blood turns green, casting the room in its sickly light. Her hands shook as she finished, wide eyes staring into the darkness.

“What is that?”

She almost sobs at the voice, at the woman who comes into view, peering into the gate. The only person she could think of that would know what to do, to save him.

“Yrene,” her voice broke as the woman’s eyes landed on her, “I need your help.”

“Oh gods,” her aunt sobs loudly, “Y/n, my darling girl where have you-“

The door behind her aunt flies open, a man as familiar as her own father running through, sword raised to protect his wife, “What is it? What’s wrong-”

He spots the gate, sliding to a stop, “Y/n? My gods-“

“Please,” Y/n sobs, “I need help, please something is wrong, he won’t wake up, a seizure, he can’t, I can’t-“

“Y/n slow down,” Chaol lowers his sword, “Sweetheart breathe, calm down, who’s hurt, where are you?”

“Yrene please, he needs your help,” Y/n begs, she falls to her knees, her hands raised over her head, palms up, “Please, help him.”

There’s a shift in the air as Yrene steps through the gate, Y/n sobs when her aunt’s hands grasp her own. Yrene pulls Y/n to her feet, supporting her weight. Behind her, Chaol takes a step towards them but Yrene shakes her head.

“Get Aelin and Rowan,” she commands.

Chaol looks ready to argue, but a sharp look from his wife has him nodding once, “Be careful, my love”

“Where is he?”

Y/n runs, forcing herself to slow down, to keep pace with Yrene’s human form. She follows that bond, pulling on it, feeling the heartbeat on the other side and nothing more. It was like Azriel was barely there, blocked, hidden from her.

She felt then, a rumbling power, night kissed darkness. Rhys was coming, he’d felt the portal open no doubt, she didn’t care to stop, to explain to him what she had done. He could wait, Azriel couldn’t.

The door to his room is wide open, the house already knew what was happening, the room lit by fae lights. Yrene didn’t hesitate, just ran to the bed, to Azriel.

“What happened?”

It was a struggle to keep calm long enough to briefly describe what had happened, that he’d been shot in the chest by the goddess Deanna, that he’d been in a coma ever since. Yrene lays her hands over Azriel’s chest, faint warm light glowing from her palms. Her magic searching, washing over him and into that wound beneath his bandages.

“What is this?” That night kissed power explodes into the room, “Get your hands off my brother!”

Y/n throws herself in his path, a cold harsh wind blowing him back, “Rhys stop! She’s helping him, this is my aunt, I told you about her.”

“You opened a gate? Alone?” His voice is scathing, “What if something had happened again? You almost died last time! Damnit Y/n, you could have asked-”

“I needed to do something, I couldn’t keep waiting,” she snaps, her voice breaking, “Rhys I can’t- I can’t lose him.”

The anger in Rhys shatters, “I know, Y/n, I know, me too.”

“I don’t know what’s going on over there,” Yrene calls out, “But I could use some help.”

Y/n turns from Rhys, offering no translation, “What? what is it?”

“There’s something here,” Yrene says, hand hovering over the bandages, “Magic, it’s old, older than the valg. It feels similar though, to what was paralyzing your uncle, it’s attached to his heart.”

“What can I do?”

“Hold him down,” she says, “Get the angry one to help, this is probably going to hurt really bad.”

“Rhys,” Y/n throws over her shoulder, “Help me hold him down.”

The High Lord does without hesitation, “What’s wrong with him? What is she doing?”

Almost in response, Azriel screams. Arching off the bed, wings flaring beneath him, almost knocking Y/n over. Rhys throws his weight over his brothers kicking legs, using some of that power to restrain him. Y/n’s own wind holds Azriel down where she can’t reach, keeping his arm from swinging into Yrene.

His screams are so achingly painful, shouting down the bond between them, the first sign of him she’d had in nearly two weeks.

“You’re okay,” she shushes him, “It’s going to be okay. Just hold on.”

He screams and screams, tears streaming down his cheeks. Y/n can only hold on, can only cry with him. Every feeling is thrown down the bond, like it had been opened like a door between their minds, pain, fear, agony, Y/n could feel it all like it was her own chest, like it was being torn open, like her heart was being ripped out.

“I’ve almost got it,” her aunt says through clenched teeth, “Just a little while longer.”

Hold on, just hold on. She hopes he can hear her, he only screams in response. Roaring loud enough to shake the mountain beneath them. She screams with him, her already hoarse voice shattering, she could taste blood on her tongue.

A bright silver light shines through Yrene’s warm healing glow. It nearly blinds Y/n, she has to squint to see what it even was. Slowly pulling it from Azriel’s chest, it looked almost like a worm made of moon fire, writhing inside a bubble of Yrene’s magic.

Azriel slumps to the bed, breathing hard and fast, his eyes do not open. Y/n collapses against him, cradling his head to her chest, her fingers running through his hair.

“What is that?”

She looks up at Rhys, “One last fuck you from Deanna.”

The magic reeks of the goddess, a shred of her left in it, mocking, laughing. Y/n holds out her hand, and her aunt wordlessly drops the silver thing into her hand. It writhes in her palm, she glares at it, at the final shred of the wretched goddess.

“Go to Hel,” she spits, and her palm lights in the deepest, hottest blue flame, until there’s nothing left.

Wake, wake up, here, she’s here, wake up, tell her, wake up! The voices hurt his head, adding to the pain that radiates through his whole body. It hurt, his head, his chest, his heart, it all hurt.

He couldn’t force his eyes to open, so he relies on his other senses. He was laying down, surrounded by soft pillows and blankets, warm. From the scent surrounding him, he was in his own room, but there was another scent, pine and snow and embers, home. It clung to the pillows beside him, he wants to turn his face into it and inhale deeply. He tries, but the motion causes his already aching head to scream in pain.

“Az?”

That voice, soft and swirling air, the northern breeze that caught in his wings and lifted him high into the sky. It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard, her voice, the one he’d heard in his dreams, the one begging him to wake. He had to tell her something, desperately needed to tell her.

“Princess-“ he coughs, his throat felt like sand paper, felt like he had been screaming.

“Here,” she says.

He feels the bed dip beside him, something cold presses to his lips, water. The cold liquid slides over his tongue soothing the pain in his throat. He drinks deeply for several seconds, groaning when she takes the glass away.

“You’ll make yourself sick,” she chides.

He wanted to open his eyes, to see her, to tell her everything, “Princess, I-“

Her hand in his, so right, so perfect, “I know, shadowsinger, I know.”

Azriel finally forces his eyes open, the sunlight shines through the open curtains, settling over her like a blanket of gold. Beautiful, so achingly beautiful. He could feel her, that tether of shadow more like a solid bridge between them.

“You know,” he breathes, “How-“

“You should have told me,” she stops him, her hand shaking in his palm, “Gods, Az, you should have told me. Instead, I watched an arrow go into your chest, I felt you dying on the other side of the bond.”

The words send a shock of pain through his chest, like that arrow was finding home in his heart once again. It echoes the pain she felt, still feels.

“It felt like I was dying with you,” she says, her eyes burning with lingering rage, “I killed her. I didn’t think, couldn’t, I felt that bond in my chest, knew that you were my mate, and she had tried to take you from me. I burned her to nothing but ash.”

Azriel could only stare at the female, she had killed a goddess, an ancient terrible creature, for him. His mate, his viscous warrior of a mate, gods killer.

“You should have told me,” she repeats again, and Azriel can feel the anger and the fear she feels, “You almost died, and I- I didn’t- I couldn’t- You“

“I’m sorry.” The broken words tear into his heart, “I’m so sorry, Princess.”

“I know,” she takes a deep breath, “I know why you hid it, I understand that, I just- I almost lost you before I’d even known I had you.”

Her face falls, looking down at the hands in her lap that fidget with the loose black fabric. Night court black, it almost seemed like mourning black to Azriel.

“Hey.” It takes more effort than he’s willing to admit to lift his scarred hand to her cheek, turning her face back to him, “I’m okay, you still have me, if you still want me.”

Her eyes are lined with silver tears as she nods once, a simple gesture that breaks and rebuilds every part of his soul. He didn’t need some big mating ceremony, didn’t need a party, didn’t need her to offer him food, just that nod, that simple yes, was more than enough.

Despite the pain, Azriel sits up, cradling her face in the palm of his hand, marveling at the sight of her wide eyes, no cold, no heat, just full of wonder. A single tear runs down her cheek and Azriel leans in, kissing away the drop.

“You’re my mate,” he whispers against her skin, it feels like a weight lifting off his shoulders, off his heart, “Mine.”

She pulls back, just enough to look into his eyes and say, “And you are mine.”

Azriel runs his thumb over the apple of her cheek, “My beautiful, wonderful, vicious mate.”

She smiles and he could fall apart completely. He looks down at those lips, soft and sweet, and Azriel kisses his mate, and for once in his life, everything felt right.

Y/n had been the first to pull away from the kiss, so achingly gentle, “You must be starving.”

Azriel’s eyes were firmly locked on her lips as he said, “Yes I am.”

Every instinct in him was roaring to keep kissing her, to do more than that. His mate, gods this was his mate.

“You’ve been asleep for nearly two weeks, you need to eat.”

That gets his attention, his dark brows furrowed, “Two weeks?”

“The others are waiting in the dining room,” she says gently, “We can wait, we’ll go whenever you’re ready, but your family is desperate to see you.”

He’d been asleep for two weeks, they’d be beside themselves with worry, his brothers especially. There’s two voices in his head, one begging to see them, one that remembers that they’d also seen that arrow go into his chest, had watched as he nearly died. The other voice begs him to stay, to lay this female down and claim her in every way he could, his mate.

“You’re still recovering,” Y/n says, hand coming up to rest on the bandages over his chest, “Eat first, see your family. I’m not going anywhere.”

Yet. That unspoken word, she wasn’t going anywhere yet. He wonders if she heard it too, wonders if she could feel his heart squeeze painfully in his chest.

Azriel wants to scream, instead he swallows it down and says, “Food first then.”

Y/n smiles and Azriel memorizes the image of her, tucks it away for later, ignoring the feeling of sand trickling down an hour glass, like their time was running out.

“Here, let me help.” She stands, grabbing a shirt from the wardrobe.

Azriel throws the covers off, feeling the sore and stiff muscles throughout his body. He forces himself through it, to lift his arms as she pulls the shirt over his head, to breathe as her hands button the shirt beneath his wings. Each step he takes feels like fire lancing through him, he doesn’t wince, doesn’t complain, only holds onto her hand as she guides them through the halls closer and closer to his family.

“Hold on.” He stops, pulling on her hand just before they turn that final corner, “Give me a second.”

Worried eyes, searching him head to toe, “What is it? What’s wrong? Do you need to sit down?”

Azriel smiles, “I’m alright, Princess.”

“What-“

He doesn’t give her the chance to finish her sentence, his arms wrapping around her waist and tugging her to his chest. The smallest gasp leaves her lips and he breathes it in as his lips find hers. He needed one more kiss, to steady himself, to prepare himself for the overbearing love and care from his family.

Y/n holds tightly to his shirt, “Az.”

He squeezes her hips, his name on her tongue was one of his favorite sounds. He hums against her lips, memorizing the feel of this too.

“Az I need to tell you-“

It could wait, everything could wait. He needed her now, who knew how much time he had left with her. He kisses her like he was trying to steal the air from her lungs, so entwined with her, with the feeling of her mouth, of her hands, of her body, his defenses down. Not even his shadows warned him.

A blade pressed between his shoulders, between his wings, the sharp tip digging in just enough to sting, and a lethally calm voice, “I recommend you take your hands off my daughter.”

Tag list

@inloveallthetime , @microwaveallthedemons , @nayaniasworld , @thecraziestcrayon , @fightmedraco , @blackgirlmagicforever , @nikt-wazny-y , @fangirlloza010 , @thisiskaylin , @wolfgirl624 , @khaleesihavilliard , @fluffy-bnny , @mariahoedt , @durgenyx , @glitterypirateduck , @byyalady , @amberlynn98 , @ferrarisbitch , @a-cup-of-nightshade , @breella , @hnnybee0 , @superspideyparker , @that-one-little-soybean , @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife , @websterss , @sassybluebird , @fakesocialmediaa , @balsalmic-vinegar , @lees-chaotic-brain , @yashiw , @a-mexican-waffle , @thefairlyaveragegatsby , @tele86 , @emidpsandia , @nickishadow139 , @basicwhiterat , @namelesssreaderrr , @feyres-fireheart , @some-person-somewhere , @flowersinvegas

[starsxblazing]

Cause and Effect (Part 1)

a/n: Finally part one of the series as I work on requests! I tagged everyone that commented on the original story but there were a few that I was unable to. Thank all of you so much in your interest!

Azriel x reader/Archeron!sister

(Part 2)

From the moment that you were forced into the Cauldron, your life had drastically changed. You weren’t sure what to do or where you fit in life. It wasn’t like you truly fit in anywhere anyway but it had only been amplified by being turned into High Fae. Pain and betrayal stayed with you because Feyre had done nothing to help you, Nesta, and Elain. In a sense, you understood why but it didn’t stop the emotions.

Being the youngest of all of the Archeron sisters meant that you were always looked over by everyone. Your father barely acknowledged your existence and Nesta was always more concerned about Elain and her wellbeing. You were only a year younger than Feyre and even she wasn’t treated in the way that you were.

Maybe it was because she took the initiative to risk her life to keep you all fed but when you pushed to help her, she refused your help and brushed you aside like everyone else. The only attention that you got was from a boy your age and you also knew that he didn’t truly care about you. It was only all about him getting what he wanted and then leaving.

The one thing that kept you going, kept you somewhat hopeful, were a select few human holidays that were nearly completely forgotten for a reason unknown to you. There was one in particular that always stood out and you always did your best to celebrate it. Despite that, your low rank in the family simply earned you a scoff and told that it didn’t matter. 

You simply wanted to share a small bit of joy that you could hold onto with the four of them. It was hard being so different in the sense that you wanted to spread love and joy but everyone around you was more focused on being miserable with poverty. 

The Fae had their own traditions, you had learned, in the separate courts in the new world that you were forced into but that piece of you that loved your holiday felt as if it was slowly dying. Dying just as your humanity had. You had watched in horror as Feyre was forced back to the original court that she had found her first love in. Despite that, you kept silent while standing a few feet away from your two oldest sisters on the ground who were just as drenched as you were.

Mor had all three of you before you had time to blink, sending you all through a pit of darkness before landing in yet another place that you were unfamiliar with. Naturally, everything would be unknown to you and a piece of you didn’t really care. As you sat in your room all alone, your mind drifted to the males in the castle that you had been in and you could only hope that they were alright. Your caring heart wouldn’t let you feel much of anything else.

That was until you began to move between both of your sisters' rooms. You didn’t want to be alone but Elain was in a catatonic state and Nesta simply shoved you out of the room. It was a traumatizing situation for all of you but you craved and longed for someone to be there for you as Nesta was for Elain to help you cope.

Mor had come to check on all three of you within a couple of hours and she was the first one that showed you genuine kindness for the first time in a really long time. It unfortunately didn’t last long before the female left you alone again with the excuse that she needed to check on her friends.

“Are they going to be okay?” you asked worriedly.

“They will be,” she assured with a tender smile. “They just need some rest while the healers work on them.”

“Tell them that I hope that they get better soon.”

She gave you a small smile of understanding and once she left, you made your way back to your room. You hadn’t taken the time before to fully take in the sight before you. The bed was huge, decorated in different shades of blue. Your new bed was just as big and it made you wonder why a bed would need to be so large. It was a far cry from what you were used to in poverty and even the new estate that you had placed in couldn’t compare to this.

The balcony was what caught your attention the most and you couldn’t stop yourself from enjoying the evening breeze that flowed through your hair, setting you at ease as you took in the sight of the city below you. You knew that the small area would be where you would spend a majority of your time if your sisters didn’t want anything to do with you.

Unable to stay in one place, you found yourself wandering aimlessly in an attempt to learn your new surroundings. The simple fact that it was built into the mountain amazed you and you wondered how much work it took to do such a thing. Becoming aware of your surroundings was your main goal but you always ran excitedly when Mor came to visit.

“Have you heard from Feyre?” you asked as you dined with her at the end of your first day in your new dwellings.

No.” Mor shook her head, sadness written in her features. “She’s fully capable of handling herself but we’re hoping that it won’t take her long to accomplish whatever she has planned.”

“And your friends?”

“Our best healer is working on Cassian’s wings,” she answered somewhat hesitantly even though you swore you saw tenderness in her eyes. “Azriel’s wound was nowhere near as bad as it seemed and he’ll be okay in another day or so.”

“I can’t imagine how much it would hurt to have that happen when you have wings.” You shook your head as pain for them filled you. “Or having an arrow in your chest that’s laced with poison.”

“They are Illyrians and they heal quickly,” she assured. “Healing and reconstructing wings is quite difficult but we trust our healer immensely.”

You weren’t given much information and your heart sank whenever she had to leave to check on the injured males. Taking a chance on Nesta again, you slipped into the library to be met with a hostile face. It was all that you could do not to cringe away from that look so you sighed instead.

“Mor just left and said her friends are healing,” you offered.

“I don’t care,” she replied matter of factly, her tone proving her words. “What are you doing here?”

“I uh- Just came for a book,” you muttered, your heart breaking at the hatred that you were receiving.

“Well get it and go.”

Doing as told, you grabbed the first book that you could get your hands on and darted to your room. Mor hadn’t returned on the second day and Rhysand, the High Lord, simply walked through the home, glancing at all three of you before leaving again. You were unable to focus on the words in the romance book that you had unknowingly grabbed as you sat at the dining room table on the third day.

You heard the beat of wings before you saw them and noticed that it was one of the males, Azriel as you remembered, who had landed on the balcony. It took you a moment of staring to realize that he was the most beautiful male that you had ever seen in your relatively short life. He locked eyes with you when he noticed you and his own went wide when you smiled brightly before he stumbled back a step as if he were in shock.

“Hey!” you exclaimed a bit too excitedly, happy to see another person.

“Hi,” he whispered breathlessly.

A small smile formed on his face that only caused you to grin in response.

Tag List:

@amara-moonlight @allygrace74 @sidthedollface2 @historygeekqueen @hnyclover @kalulakunundrum @historygeekqueen @bubybubsters @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademe @caroline-books @justvibbinghere @wisdomofthebrain @nighttimemoonlover @cleverzonkwombatsludge @alessiazeni @rhenysz @ladespedidas @meritxellao @candyjaypoppins @carnationworld @mulansaucey @why4anne @tsibba01 @sassyangel16 @aetherl0l @wallacewillow0773638 @cherryinsalemverse @lupinswolfsbanes @amysangel @ayme301 @sassyslytherinshai @zeroangelo13 @sirens-and-moonflowers @evye47 @starcrossedsan @impossibelle @landofpetrichor @tuggboatfishin @dr4g0ngirl @one-big-fangirl @mistyheart @ang-taylorsversion @youngblood199456 @anuttellaa

[wheneclipsefalls]

Grovel Part 2

Pairing: Aged Up Lo'ak x Fem Omatikaya Reader

Part 1

Summary: Lo'ak needs a plan. A plan that will bring you back to him.

Warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, lust, pinning, angst, past relationship, mentions of war, injury, etc.

“Stop whining.” Neteyam groaned, watching as Lo’ak secured another tie around the fabric’s base. The kelku was coming together nicely. 

“I didn’t say anything.” Lo’ak all but huffed, lips turned downwards in the same fashion they had been since the celebration. He adjusted the straps of his loincloth, a trail of sweat racing down his spine. Oh how he already missed the refreshing waves of salt water. 

“Your expectations were truly far too high, brother. What did you think she would do?” 

Lo’ak shot him a seething look, one that warned against pushing it further, but brothers were immune to such limits. 

“You’re lucky you made it out of there without injury. And now knowing what you did I can’t say I would have blamed her otherwise.” 

“Yes Neteyam, I understand. Now can you shut up and help me lift the other end?” Lo’ak stomped past him, preparing the right side to be lifted. He didn’t wait for Neteyam to join him before using his own body weight to heave the heavy fabric into place. The younger Sully brother had been hyper fixated on his kelku since their arrival, even going as far as asking Kiri for advice on potential decoration. 

This home had to be good enough to meet your fancy, an objective that he now understood to be much harder than originally anticipated. 

“Mawey, baby brother. I am only trying to get your skxawng ass to understand.”

“Okay then fine!” The fabric was dropped to the floor in a heap. “Tell me what I should do. Since you know the ins and outs of wooing women, tell me how I am supposed to win her back.” His brows lifted, hands placed on his hips as he feigned bracing for his answer. Neteyam was not fazed by his younger brother’s outburst. After seeing Lo’ak’s restlessness the whole trip home in anticipation of seeing you, he was surprised the male was holding up as well as he was. 

“I may just be a simple gentleman, bro, but I think an apology would be a good place to start.” He squeezed his brother’s shoulder, surprised when Lo’ak was too lost in thought to bother wrestling him off. 

“I’ve tried. Everywhere I go she is avoiding me. I don’t even know where her kelku is or her routines. Otherwise-”

“Maybe I can help with that.” 

Lo’ak sent him a skeptical look.

“What?” He deadpanned. 

“She has a sister, right?” A completely rhetorical question that had Lo’ak knowing exactly where Neteyam was going with this. “Say the right words and maybe I can get some valuable help from Talu.” 

“Wow. How did I deserve a brother like you?” Sarcasm dripped from his tone as he ran a hand over his face. It was no secret that Neteyam had taken a liking to Talu. The future Olo’eyktan was neither bashful nor shy when it came to playing the golden suitor. 

Neteyam simply grinned before slapping him on the back and helping to hoist the kelku side once more.

You were impossible. So hard headed and stubborn that even knowing your route and home was not enough to get in a good apology. He was sure by now that Talu knew of his intentions with you, that giddy smile forever present whenever she announced his presence to you, but there was always an excuse to cut things short. Only a few minutes and you would be running off to aid at the healer’s tent or pick up the hunting gear you had left behind. 

There was no end to the list of excuses you could formulate.

And it didn’t matter that neither himself nor Talu were fooled. You simply weren’t inclined to put more effort into hiding your disdain. 

Lo’ak couldn’t remember you being this difficult before. When the two of you were younger you had handed your heart over to him on a silver platter. Of course your weird friendship had been full of teasing, pranks, and insults but that was only part of the fun. Once romance had been initiated, you took everything he gave with warmth and affection. 

And he had ruined that. 

He let out another sigh, trying to play it off when his mother gave him the side eye. His new bow was almost finished, surely the right weapon he would need to fetch an impressive kill. Perhaps he would use his spear too just in case. If he was going to win you over, it would need to be something extreme. Something that said all the words you would not let him get out. 

At this point he was willing to take down a Palulukan if that is what it took. 

He snorted at the thought. It may have been a few years since hunting on Omatikaya soil but he knew that thing would have him torn in two. Maybe then he would get your attention, whatever remained of his body finally being enough to crack your tough composure. 

And then….

What started out as a ridiculously funny thought transformed into a new idea. A new plan. There was in fact one place that you could not run away from. 

The healer’s tent had been slow in mid afternoon but luckily you were the only one on duty. When he walked through the tent flaps reverently, not bothering to hide the wince as his freshly torn up skin brushed the fabric, your lips parted. For a moment it seemed that concern swam in those beautiful eyes but then they were turning back into cold steel like that night at the festival. 

“Kind of underestimated the swoop-”

He was cut off by your stern point to the space in front of you. He followed obediently but on the way he couldn’t help but let his gaze roam over your exquisite form. He had meant what he had said that first night. You were more beautiful than the day he last saw you, a goddess-like creature even his wildest dreams could not have imagined. 

Today you wore a turquoise top made of small beads that were strung together to hang like vines. The color reminded him of the waters in Awa’atlu. Could that be your favorite color now? If so, he knew of so many places such gems and shells of that color. He could collect more for you. The beads mocked him, however, as their light weight cover just barely fell over your pretty nipples, one breath away from revealing the prize. 

Hell, he was sure the right puff of air from his lips could push away those teasing beads. 

As you began to work on applying ointment to his wounds Lo’ak forced himself to look away. However, he couldn’t find reason to not occasionally peak back and get a look at your pretty face. By Eywa, it was a true miracle that no one had snatched you up yet. Maybe he would thank the Great Mother for that gift at the Tree of Souls later. 

At one point your diligence fell and strayed from the wounds to glance at him instead. He flashed a grin, one that didn’t match the state of his bloody back. You shoved his head to look forward roughly but he had already caught a glimpse of your rosy cheeks. 

“You got injured how again?” 

“Flying error, it’s been a while. Why?” 

“No reason.” 

Silence fell and Lo’ak had to keep himself from fumbling with his messy bun. You may be difficult now but one thing was still true. You always wore your heart on your sleeve. 

“You don’t have to be worried, sevin-”

A sharp smack to the back of his head and Lo’ak couldn’t hide his surprised laugh. 

“Damn, you’ve got a pretty good backhand.” 

“Hush. I am trying to concentrate.” 

It was sure to be a lie. His wounds were nothing in comparison to what you must have encountered during the war and with your experience you would have him healed and out in a few minutes. But then that meant he only had a very small window to squeeze this apology into. 

“Don’t worry, I will behave.” He raised his hands in surrender but received only a little hum from you in response. “But while we’re here there is something I’ve been wanting to say.” 

Lo’ak hissed when the ointment was applied harshly to his deepest cut. It was nothing he couldn’t handle after so many war wounds but it did manage to lose him a few seconds of precious time. Had that been your intent?

“When we were kids I was…an absolute skxawng.” No argument came from you and Lo’ak glanced back from the corner of his eye. “I was more than a skxawng actually. I was reckless and angry and I didn’t even think about how my actions would affect others. Especially you and-”

“I don’t care. It is done.” Without Talu’s presence there was no incentive to dampen the ice in your voice. 

“Y/n,” He called your name softly, turning to grab your wrist and stop the movement. “I am sorry. I never should have hurt you like that. I knew better, especially….” He let out a deep sigh through his nose. “Especially considering how much I truly did love you.” 

You yanked your wrist back as if his grip was red hot. Scrambling away slightly, he could see the control you had over the moment slipping. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to push it further, get you to accept his apology. 

Unfortunately for him, Eywa must have decided that it was also the perfect time for the next healer to enter the tent. 

“There were hardly any herbs left by the river. Next time we try the mountains instead.” Penyau said, the smile on her face slowly dropping once sensing the tension in the room. 

“Great. Lo’ak needs patching up, sister.” 

“Oh, well then-”

“No, no. Y/N is already on it-”

“I’m passing you over.”

“You truly don’t care to finish healing the Na’vi that was put under your care?” Not the angle he wanted to take, but he was panicking. So desperate to get a few more minutes with you that he had to stop himself from using his grandmother as a scapegoat to keep you here. 

From the way your jaw clenched and tail curled he knew those cards would not have played well for him. 

“Talu is waiting. I leave.” You gritted out. Not a second to make another attempt or ever apologize before you were past the threshold and leaving him in the dust. Or at least, leaving him with Penyau who looked confused but more than happy to assist him. The smile she gave, however, did not hold the same sweetness as yours.

Or at least the smile he remembered from all those years ago.

He prayed he would see it again soon. 

A part of you wanted to insist upon staying home. Well no, all of you wanted to insist but if there was one thing you had learned from working with Mo’at is that there was no hope in defying her. If she saw it fit to bring you to the council meeting then that is exactly what you would have to do. Jake Sully was back as Olo’eyktan and with that came his sons’ attendance too. You were not foolish enough to hope otherwise, but there would surely be others there you could occupy your time with.

Even Tarsem had become a close friend of yours, as close as a clan member can dare to get to an Olo’eyktan, but conversation would be light and easy with him. If you were lucky perhaps you would be able to leave the meeting early as your sector of concern was far more narrow, giving you a chance to escape the inevitable small talk afterwards. 

Luck, however, was not on your side. It seemed that Mo’at had deemed you her scribe for the meeting and that meant taking up every single detail presented. It was borderline impossible with the way Lo’ak’s eyes constantly strayed towards you. You’d think the male would have the decency to keep his staring at a minimum for public appearance.

Of course Lo’ak had never been afraid of attention.

That trait evidently had remained with him after all these years. 

“Morning shift can circle northbound while overlapping with the afternoon watch.” Jake continued, using a twig to draw over their makeshift map in the dirt. It felt like he was speaking another language with the way your brain refused to concentrate. Jake might as well have switched into English with the rate you were comprehending. 

“Lo’ak and Neteyam will be available by the end of the week once everything is settled in.” 

You were so lost at this point it wasn’t even funny. Mo’at was going to have your head. As if sensing your confusion, the younger Sully brother said softly, “yes, for teaching.” 

It didn’t clear things up much but Lo’ak had decided to start tying his hair back up into that damn bun again and you found yourself more dazed than in the beginning. Out of pure will power you resisted the urge to watch him dead on, unlike him. Watching those biceps stretch as he worked to wrestle those braids was still possible from your peripheral. 

Another twist in your stomach. 

Lo’ak relaxed backwards, long legs stretched out in front of him as Jake Sully continued his long speel. The meeting could have dragged on for centuries for all you knew and yet that twisting coil in your stomach never loosened. You felt like you were about to snap when the Olo’eyktan finally called for dismissal. 

Up to your feet in a matter of seconds, Mo’at shot you a strange look. The tips of your ears burned as you tried to play it off and wait patiently for her. The meeting may have been over but that didn’t mean you were meant to leave her side. Most likely she would have other work for you to accomplish this afternoon and even if not it would be rude to not walk your Tsahik back to Home Tree. 

“I’ve got it, grandmother.” Lo’ak easily switched Mo’at’s basket over to rest on his own hip. She gave him a nod and pat on the shoulder. 

Swinging the netted bag of herbs and medicinals over your shoulder you focused primarily on the path ahead. 

“Let me get that, sevin.” Lo’ak reached for your bag but with flaming cheeks you barely managed to deflect his advances and snap away. 

The effort was pointless however when Mo’at gently grabbed the bag from your shoulder and handed it to him. An almost imperceivable smirk graced her lips at your perplexed expression but otherwise she remained silent. Slightly baffled and now avoiding Lo’ak’s unrelenting attention you veered to pick up the pace. 

Now that he held your bag hostage there was no choice but to let him follow you both back to the healer’s tent. At least that’s what you thought until….

Mo’at let out a tired sigh and that was all it took for Lo’ak to insist she go home and get some rest. He assured her he would get the supplies back to the tent and walk you home safely, both actions that made you glare at him over her shoulder. The Tsahik, tired or not you couldn’t be sure, bid you farewell and gave her grandson another gentle squeeze to his shoulder. 

The second she was out of sight you went for your bag. Lo’ak easily swiped away from your grabbing hands.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” 

Despite his warm smile he was only met with unspoken annoyance that seeped into the atmosphere’s tension. If he wanted to walk you home, fine, but you were going to get it done in record time. Without another word you scrambled up the nearest tree, deciding to take the overhead route to avoid traffic. 

You could hear the clanking bags and basket as Lo’ak had to find ways to follow behind with only one arm to propel himself upwards. You secretly resented the way he managed just fine, despite the obstacle, long legs rushing over branches like they had only left the forest for a day.  

“Is your plan to avoid me forever?” 

Teeth grinding together you grabbed hold of another branch over head and propelled yourself up the next level. This time was more of a struggle, several vials almost falling out of the basket but that only earned him one concerned glance before you were striding forward once more. 

“I meant what I said yesterday. I truly am sorry.”

“Yes, I heard you.” The tempo you set with your feet borderlined running. Lo’ak’s struggle became ever more apparent as the two of you scaled higher. 

“Well yes I know that…shit!” A vial slipped from the basket, Lo’ak immediately lunged to catch it. You carried forward, trying not to think about how he almost lost the precious herbs that took you weeks to find and gather. “Got it!” He called but you were already several branches above. 

With this head start you may just be able to outrun the Omatikaya prince and make it home safely. 

Distant curses sounded from below followed by scrambling feet. 

When will he ever give up?

It’s hard to say what Lo’ak did during his time with the Metkayina but you were surprised, and slightly displeased, to see how capable Lo’ak had grown in his tree climbing. Although, now he had found a way to shimmy himself up a trunk with only his muscular legs to aid. The sheer athleticism required to do such made your head spin and cheeks heat.

Straight home. 

No detours. 

“Y/N, wait up.” 

He was closer than you would have liked, no doubt a result of your short attention span. 

“Come on, sevin. Does your determination to ignore me really warrant all of this?” 

Your temper was always an easy one to flare and when it came to Lo’ak Sully it seemed he had written the manual on how to light that flame. Turning on your heel, Lo’ak had to grind to a quick halt in order to avoid running into you again. It felt all too familiar to the celebration the other night so this time you spoke before he had a chance to get a word in. 

“Maybe so, but what does it matter to you?!” Nostrils flaring and breathing heavily it was no longer possible to hide how fast the male had gotten under your skin. 

“It’s admittedly more difficult to court a woman that won’t even let me be in her presence.” 

The savage words on the tip of your tongue stuttered and your treacherous body rippled with excitement. 

“You aren’t courting me.” 

“Well, I suppose that’s fair. I technically have not initiated courting yet.” 

“No Lo’ak, you will not court me. Ever.” Words like unbending steel the male’s eyes locked with your own and this time you found ways to not balk under his attention. When it seemed that nothing else was going to be said you turned on your heel once more. 

And then Lo’ak finally spoke. 

“I don’t see how you could stop me.” He murmured gruffly but the words immediately struck your temper like daggers. A bullseye shot. 

“Lo’ak Te Sulli-”

“Sevin, just listen for two seconds!” 

“Do not call me that!” Your voice hitched into a higher octave. 

“I’m sorry I just-”

“NO!” Your shriek echoed over the branches. Heated venom coursed through your veins. “You push and push and push but I am sick of hearing it!” More words threatened to fly free but your heart was already pounding at your ribcage. Stay one more second and you were sure to find yourself saying much more than you ever cared to.

“I’m not going to give up.”

Those bubbling truths refused to be swallowed any more.

“You say that now, Lo’ak, but just wait. Soon you will grow tired of chasing after me and when you do there will be a plethora of women waiting at your beck and call. Just like before there will be another woman to entertain you where I could not.” 

Lo’ak’s eyes blew wide and tail dropped to the floor but even then it would only be a few seconds before he made another pleaful attempt. And you couldn’t take any more of that. Those golden eyes covered by his signature two braids already beseeched your forgiveness far too easily. 

“And once again you will go to her.” 

He called your name as you left but you were already scrambling to safety. 

It was going to take a grand gesture. One that would prove his loyalty to not only you but every Na’vi in the clan. Your forgiveness was not going to be an easy thing to win over but that was okay. Lo’ak had dealt with far worse for so much less. Enduring some verbal bashing and humbling circumstances was the least he could do to win the woman of his dreams. 

And yet…it still hurt. 

The way you shut him out, not letting him learn even a morsel about the girl he had been missing for years. How much time had he spent imagining your reunion? Perhaps all of his dreams and hopes had clouded his sense of reality because now he stood here with only a shattered fantasy left. He had fooled himself for too long, thinking the past could be something swept away with the turning of time. 

He had wounded you too deep for that.

So much deeper than he had ever let himself accept. 

With a heavy sigh Lo’ak commanded his heart to settle. Today he could not afford doubts to plague his mind. Everything from here on out had to be intentional, had to send a message. Your discerning eye would be sharper to him than any other potential suitor that would court a woman. Each move would be assessed and either take him closer or further away from holding you in his arms again. 

He checked over the supplies one more time, finger slipping into the pouch attached to his loincloth. Everything was in place.

“We can’t be late.” He reminded Neteyam, messing with his bun until he was satisfied with the way it sat.

“Someone is eager.” Neteyam's lips curved upwards as he leisurely took another bite of yovo. “Usually I am the one rushing us out the door.” 

“Things can change. I can be responsible too.” He shucked Neteyam’s bag over his own shoulder, ready to leave with or without his brother. 

Neteyam rolled his eyes, heaving himself up from his seated position. 

“Yes but what good is it without her here to watch you do so, baby brother?” His fingers barely touched Lo’ak’s braids before the younger brother was swooping away and swatting at his arm. The death glare sent his way only made a deep chuckle rise in Neteyam’s chest. 

Neteyam’s jesting was all in good fun but Lo’ak was far from in the mood to look at things that way. Over and over your words from the other day had echoed in his head. Your tone was drenched in steel cold enmity but even that couldn’t mask the pain that was seated in your golden orbs. His own childhood recklessness had put him at this point and now it was all he could think about. 

Setting things up for today’s lesson, however, had helped. It gave him an outlet, some way to use these swirling emotions and put them into something useful. Lo’ak Sully was not one to give up easily, no matter what you said. 

Gun to head Lo’ak would not be able to recite a word of what his brother spoke as they walked to the lake’s edge. The pounding of his heart was far too loud and it seemed his attention didn’t matter anyways when Neteyam’s own was easily captured by your sister. Without so much as a goodbye, he stalked towards the female Na’vi and left him behind. 

The rocks were littered with various warriors and clan members in his age group. His father had thought it would be best to keep it within a demographic that they could relate to, make these lessons more personal. And yet Lo’ak had never felt more out of place. At one point in time these people had been his peers but things had been so different then. A time that was hard to remember, like a distant dream. 

Only the memories of you had not been tainted with the passing of time. He blamed all of those days at the reef where his head had been filled with thoughts of you. It was hard to forget the one his heart longed for. Even his fling with Tsireya could not erase the mark you had left on him. 

He finally caught sight of where you were perched next to another warrior. 

Your eyes only skimmed over him for a second before turning away.

You thought that it was only a matter of time or opportunity before he would be swept away and wooed by another. Perhaps if you were right things would be so much easier. And yet the tug of his heart always brought him back to you. His inability to move on was not from a lack of effort. 

So many one night stands and summer flings only for every single one to feel hollow and robotic. 

You couldn’t have known that, however, and it was Lo’ak’s job to find a way to prove it to you.

There were a million different excuses you could have conjured up to avoid these lessons. Some of them had almost slipped out this morning as Talu babbled on about how excited she was to see the eldest Sully son. However, you were mature enough to face the hard truths. Coping out now would be negligent to your duties as a useful clan member. If Olo’eyktan found it vital that the next generation learned about underwater diving then it was your responsibility to add those skills to your arsenal. 

It had been a couple days of successfully avoiding Lo’ak and now it seemed such a shame to break the streak. You refused to let those pesky thoughts bother you today however. You were her for one purpose and one purpose only. Master the art of free-diving and return to your new found peace and quiet. 

Naturally Lo’ak was greeted with quite the welcoming party, Na’vi females coaxing him over to hear about his travels. Rolling your eyes you prayed that Neteyam wouldn’t catch wind of your sour demeanor. All your worries were for not. His charming smile never strayed from your sister. Talu was skilled at putting up a calm front but you knew her well enough to sense that she was bubbling from the inside. 

You were going to hear about this conversation all night. 

Relief was temporarily found when the lessons started and instruction was finally given. The water was cool against your heated skin and you enjoyed the way it made your hair dance. Drill after drill you struggled to hold your breath longer. It felt as if your lungs were about to explode as you tried to suck in more air before plunging in again. 

Lo’ak and Neteyam would demonstrate then invite the crowd to mimic while they inspected and instructed along the way. It helped that you were not the only Na’vi who had no natural inclination towards these talents. Many came up to the surface choking on water and pushing hair from their face.  The lake looked more like an active river with the pulsing waves and splashes that emitted from every corner.

You had to give the brothers credit. No matter how ridiculous you all must have looked they never let themselves show visible signs of judgment or even laughter. 

It was far too easy to find Lo’ak in the midst. Even underwater he moved with a grace and calm that seemed so unlike him. It felt as if the water swirled to make way for him. He moved in sync with the pulse of Na’vi-made waves, cresting over them like a dance. Muscular frame floating through the abyss, he was a work of art among flailing limbs. 

He looked relaxed enough to fall asleep. His descent deeper was treated like an afternoon stroll. Your own dimming supply of air faded into the background as you found yourself swimming down after him. It was hard to keep up. Every long stroke of his was at least four of yours and still it felt as if that distance only grew with every passing second. 

He reached the bottom with one last kick, fingers carting through the various stones that lay there. Your brows furrowed as his own expression remained unperturbed. Finally a small smile broke loose when he caught hold of one rock in particular. It shimmered even in the daylight and Lo’ak made quick work to tuck it into the pouch at his side.

The first convulsing of your empty lungs was what broke you out of the trance. Lo’ak and his rock hunting was completely forgotten as your body screamed for oxygen. Now your turn to flail helplessly, you clawed towards the surface. Your lips pressed together, trying to focus on not giving into the urge of letting water in. 

How had you gotten so far down here in the first place?

The water’s surface looked so close and yet every kick only seemed to make it further away. It was an optical illusion that had your fear spiking with every second you couldn’t take in air. You hardly registered the strong arm that wrapped around your waist until your convulsing body was flying through the water. 

It was a miracle your own legs didn’t tangle with Lo’ak’s as they kicked out, but he had both of your bodies plunging upwards at a speed you could barely register. It seemed that your lungs simply could not get enough oxygen when your head finally broke through the surface. Your lungs still convulsed and your throat seized at every gasping breath.

“Just breathe. Nice and slow.” His deep voice tickled at your ear. Na’vi parted as you were floated over to the nearest shore. “There you go. In and out.” 

It seemed like a simple instruction but your body refused to snap out of panic mode. Fingernails digging into his forearms you tried to dislodge the residue water from your lungs. One arm under your back and another beneath your bent knees, Lo’ak easily carried your shaking body onto shore. He sat down, gently settling you between his parted legs while cooing encouragement. 

“Just focus on one breath at a time. Come on, do it with me, sevin.” His chest inflated against your back before slowly exhaling. You followed his lead. “That’s it. Try to breathe from here.” He placed his palm against your diaphragm. Eager to diminish the embarrassment that was creeping in, you zeroed in on acing his request. 

Breathing this way felt more physical, stretching your lungs to a point you didn’t know they could reach but every exhale brought your heart rate one further step down. 

“Very good.” 

The praise washed over you like a warm flame. Finally it felt as if your body was complying with your wishes, relaxing back against his chest. Your earlier fears of drowning were quickly reshaping to seem as nothing more than overreaction. Relief was sweet.

“Slow your heart.” Lo’ak purred, tucking his chin over your shoulder as he placed one hand over your collarbones. It was dangerously close to where your breasts rose and fell. 

With one swipe of your cupped hand through the water you had successfully catapulted water at his face. You dislodged yourself from his snuggling before sending him a dirty look and stomping off. 

Maybe that trick worked for him back with the Metkayina girls but you knew better than to fall for his charming traps.

“Sister!” Talu shouted, darting past the crowd. You could see in the distance Neteyam standing waist deep in the lake, right where your sister had left him. “By Eywa, are you alright?” 

Talu wasted no time in turning you back and forth in order to scour for injuries. Although still winded you did your best to ease her concerns. 

“Mawey, I am fine.” A sharp slap to the back of your head made you hiss in surprise.

“Then what were you thinking?! Diving down like that without any experience! That was not a part of the drill!” Her nose scrunched in the way it always did when giving you a scolding. 

“I know I just was…checking something…” You trailed off, feeling the heat of his gaze upon the back of your neck. 

“Neteyam says that you’re not supposed to dive like that even after a few weeks of training. We have to start with the shallow-”

“I know! I know!” Your groan only earned you another glare.

“Don’t scare me like that!” 

It was not a new experience to see Talu worked up. With your parents gone she was used to taking over as your caretaker and protector, although you were far beyond the years of needing such things. Regardless she had a knack for worrying. Yet another reason you had elected to never tell her about your history with Lo’ak.

“I am sorry.” It was nothing more than a mumble against her shoulder when she pulled you close. 

“Thank the Great Mother Lo’ak was there.” She sighed and from over her shoulder you could see where he was now directing another Na’vi female who struggled to make it across the space with one glide. 

“Yes, very lucky.” You deadpanned, rolling your eyes.

It would have been rude to leave the lesson without joining in on the following social. Or at least that is what Talu claimed when you tried to retire early. Of course you had ulterior motives for expressing how tired you were but it was not a lie either. No matter how many times you had pushed yourself to suck in greater air, to make it one more stroke, you could never get past a certain threshold. Determination and anger had only swirled higher whenever you saw Lo’ak dance through the water. 

The entire ordeal had left you feeling defeated. The sooner you could crack the code on diving the sooner you could retire from these lessons. There was no denying however, how good the fire’s glow felt against your wet skin. Everyone huddled in a circle around the fire. Talu was more than happy to accept the seat Neteyam had saved for her. 

If it weren’t for the fear of looking over eager you were sure she would have already been snuggled up against him for warmth. Despite your animosity towards the younger Sully brother you were happy to see Talu courted by such an honorable warrior. He gave appreciation and chivalry freely, just in the way she deserved. 

You opted to take a seat at the edge of the circle, sitting close to Panyau. There was great entertainment to be found in the way some of the females slumped in disappointment when Neteyam focused his attention primarily on Talu. It took a hand to your lips to mask your giggle when one female’s tail dropped after Neteyam rejected her offering of drink. 

Lo’ak was not exempt from the same attention, although he strategically placed himself among other male clan members. Perhaps it was all in your head but it appeared that for once he was getting sick of the limelight. It didn’t last for long however because sooner or later the brothers were pressed to share stories from their time with the Metkayina. 

“A full grown Na’vi and he’s never flown?” Matutke questioned in disbelief, many other Na’vi mirroring his same perplexed expression.

“Never. I swear I saw his soul transcend to Eywa at first lift off. Think I still have the mark from where he dug his nails into my shoulder.” Lo’ak grinned, sounding a chorus of laughter through the crowd. 

“He cried almost as much as you did your first time, baby brother.” Neteyam quipped, reaching over to squeeze the back of Lo’ak’s neck. His younger brother glared and rolled his eyes as laughter rung through the forest but he surprisingly didn’t offer a comeback. 

Conversation ebbed and flowed easily among the group, old friends connecting once more. You found yourself even becoming content to sit by the fire’s glow with such jovial interactions taking place. It was nice to take the backseat and enjoy some much needed rest. Even being around Lo’ak was bearable as it seemed he had finally given up on bugging you. 

That is, until things took a turn.

It all started with one of the male’s, Pe’ku, teasing Lo’ak about the new gems and shells woven in his hair. Lo’ak had playfully glared at him as his friend yammered on about how it looked as if he had taken half the reef back with him. 

You did your best at tuning out the conversation when one female jumped in to defend him, talking about how particularly pretty the blue gem in his hair was. Sleep threatened to take over as Lo’ak explained how rare these pieces were, having to dive down to the deepest depths to retrieve them. Eyes rolling and head resting on your bent knees, you prayed that Talu would be ready to leave soon. 

The sudden oohs and aaahs when Lo’ak pulled something from his side pouch were like lullabies to your tired ears. 

And then your tail peaked with awareness. The group had grown silent and the weight of many eyes bore down on you. 

“Huh? What?” You stammered, head finally lifting to take in the scene with confusion. A few giggles laced the crowd and Lo’ak gave you a crooked smile.

“Could I talk to you for a minute?” He asked gently.

“What? Why?” The sudden beam of attention surrounding you caused unease to settle. 

Lo’ak gave a nervous laugh.

“Or I suppose I could ask here.” Tails and legs shifted out of the way as Lo’ak came to kneel before you. It was only then that you noticed the shimmering object in his right hand. “I started making this a few months ago, beginning when I first started to have hope of returning home.” 

He laid the long necklace carefully over his thighs. These glimmering pieces were unlike anything you had ever seen and much like the blue piece in his hair, it danced under the fading streaks of the day’s light. However unlike the small piece in his hair these ones tarried among different colors. A kaleidoscope of rainbow that would never stay the same shade for long, prancing with every different bounce of light. Intricately woven into the shape of a bodice that reminded you much of the stretching branches that reached for the sun. 

“It was the first time I had ever let myself imagine what it would be like to come back here. To see you again.” 

The swirling gold specks in his eyes trapped your own wide eyed stare in a vice like grip.

“I thought about you every time I dove down to retrieve a piece. It was the only piece in Awa’atlu that held a flame to my memory of your beauty. Looking at the woman you have grown into today I see that it is greatly insufficient as a comparison.” A short laugh accompanied his last sentence. 

The knot in your stomach flipped into acrobatics that had your heart pounding.

“For now this is all I have to offer as a courting gift. This and my vow.” The four fingered hand that rested on your thigh was warm, sending a jolt of electricity racing upwards. “Never will a day go by without my heart being full of love for you. Never a morning where I don’t ask myself what can be done to make you smile, to bring light into your life.To my dying breath I will protect you.”

It hit you then the specificity of this audience. At the sight of drooping females’ tails and piercing gazes of other males you realized that this was the mating pool. Your peers and potential suitors were all gathered here. And with them, every doe eyed female that had chased after Lo’ak since his return.

“I can not call you mine, at least not yet, but I do believe that Eywa has given me another chance to fight for that right. To fight for the honor it would be to reside by your side. So with my intentions clear and heart set I ask you to accept this first courting gift.” 

The following silence was deafening. It felt as if every second ticking by was one step closer to the bomb in your chest exploding. The group enveloped you like quick sand, each lean closer tightening around you in a suffocating grip. 

So when a small “yes” escaped your lips, you blamed it on the need to breathe. On the need to escape the borrading questions that would inevitably follow your rejection. 

You were willing to blame it on anything. 

Anything but the twinkle of excitement that struck you the second Lo’ak’s wide grin fell into place. 

A/N: It has been so much fun to see y'all's reaction to this random little series I started. Please don't be shy! I love hearing your thoughts! It motivates me to keep writing<3

Taglist: @pandoraslxna @pandoraslovesworld @faintfill @rivatar @neteyamssyulang @mashiromochi @justcaptiannoodles @pocky444 @dayyzlol @kekunan @puddle-nerd @hazelwebsterboo2 @acerbicmoon @aesteticxsariana @haunting-venus @yawnetu @avatar4eva @baybaybear1 @nillikhyth @affinity101022 @tsireyasluvr @bambithewriter @delulumhaggy @kayfromthebay

[yiiyiiwrites]

🗡️ | Relics and Ruins | 1

[Series masterlist] [acotar masterlist] Summary: you come from a long line of healers in the dawn court, but it seemed to have skipped you completely. So you find that your mind is more equipped to read magical objects, fixing broken or cursed relics. What you don’t expect is an Illyrian warrior seeking your expertise on his favourite broken dagger. 1455words

The blade on the table rattled to a stop, whatever secrets it whispered, you did not understand the language it spoke.

A shadow lurked over the table, you glanced to the night courts high lord, Rhys opposite you, a smirk pulling his lips as his eyes flicked from you and his friend behind you.

“Are you going to stand over me whilst I work?” You raised a brow, neck aching as you twisted in your seat and looked to the Shadowsinger.

Rhys muttered an apology on behalf of his friend. Azriel stepped back from your desk, allowing the light to creep back in. You swatted one of the stray shadows still lingering, it rolled over your finger like the curl of smoke.

The small studio space you rented, barely allowed enough room for you to navigate. Tables and shelves filled with an assortment of objects still screaming at you to fix. You were sentimental when it came to the place, the first and only part of the court that was yours. Knew the layout like the back of your hand, large windows that bathed the area in light that no dark corner could be found. And you hated the dark.

You bit your lip trying to suppress the smile at the awkward Illyrian’s taking up the space. Their Highlord’s wings vanished before he entered the confined space, the other two however had tucked their wings in tightly and tried not to move too much within the organised mess.

The longhaired one, Cassian had given you some valuable information on a shield you’d given up on decades ago. You couldn’t help but mirror his smile whenever he offered you one, brows scrunching as he translated the text engraved on the metal.

The other winged male did not speak to you, he hung back clouded by shadows. Every now and then, little black wisps brushed against the tip of your short hair, a breeze ghosting over your shoulders.

But when he did finally speak, you found yourself wanting to look at him. The knot in your stomach twisting, his smooth voice called to you and it felt familiar, comforting. You wanted to hear it again.

“How long do you think it will take to mend?” Azriel leant on the desk, gloved hands supporting him as he gazed down at you. His attention solely on you, even up close he was breathtaking.

You blinked, hands fumbling over the desk as you knocked a pile of ancient tomes over. Dust settling in the air, the action kept going on like dominoes. A cannon ball hitting the mannequin of ancient armour into the hoards of Elven bows stacked up high.

Cassian tried to catch the next thing falling, but his wings flared ever so slightly as he tried to keep his balance. Forgetting about the tight space, his wings swiped the entire contents as well as the shelf off the wall. Metal clanged to the floor and he froze.

“Do not touch that,” you snapped, running to Cassian, your fast movement making him step back. “Unless you want it to haunt your dreams for the next hundred years.” You nudged the fallen contents with your boot, keeping them all together.

“We would not want that,” Rhys paused, glancing around the studio and the mess scattering what was left of the floor. “Perhaps we should allow you the time to do your work.” He flicked his wrist, the Elven bows stacking on top of one another.

You couldn’t help but gasp, it would have taken you hours to sort out the mess, but Rhys had put most of it back in its original place. Except the items you warned them not to touch, even that being extended to another persons magic.

The three men walked through the studio, you following closely behind them. Your hands hovering behind their wings as if waiting for them to knock into more things as they went.

Cassian doesn’t meet your eyes as you stand in the doorway, the three of them tense as if waiting for one of them to speak. You turn to Rhys expecting him to say something.

“We have business with your Highlord, so we will be around if you need anything,” Azriel said, bowing his head slightly. His shadows twirled in frenzy, black wisps tangling in your hair one more time.

You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the pesky wisps.

Azriel cleared his throat, shadows returning to curl round his ear as if to tell him a secret. “How long do you think it’ll take to mend the truth-teller?”

“It will take me a while, I need to familiarise with the energy surrounding the blade.” You could already hear truth-teller beckoning you. A broken echo, the voice not quite pronouncing your name properly. But it called.

They bid you goodbye and you returned to the room of relics. The noise always a welcome distraction than listening to your own thoughts.

*🦇*

Azriel’s shadows had not stopped mumbling of the girl of sunlight. He kept swatting them away, the text he was trying to read in front him blurring at their constant interrupting.

“You think she knows?” Rhys asked, his hands in his pockets as he watched the sun bathe the sky in dusky pinks and orange hues.

The thought crossed Azriel’s mind, part of him thinking there was a moment when their eyes met, but the way she retreated from his shadows made him think otherwise.

“Nah, there’s no way. Too much energy in that room. Don’t know how she can surround herself with all those relics,” Cassian said, his fingers rubbing his temple.

Relics kept their energy and magical properties forever, outliving the ones that created them. They might not be able to wielded again, but if one was worthy enough to channel that power the object would call for whoever it could hear. Most times it was a distant mumble, only a trained ear or shadow could hear it.

“Now you know how we feel brother, when we spend too much time with you.”

Cassian pulled up the chair opposite Azriel, smirking as he got himself comfortable. “Maybe I should help her, you know familiarise that energy surrounding truth-teller. I do know some riveting tales…”

“The only thing snapping will be your neck if you meddle,” Azriel spat, he slammed his book shut as if closing anymore discussion on the mender in the dawn court.

The anger spread like wildfire in his chest, ever since the bond snapped he’d been overwhelmed with emotions. His shadows were equally as messy, not sure whether to follow him or stick behind with her. A few stray wisps fell back, hiding between the relics in her studio and keeping a safe distance.

Azriel couldn’t get her off his mind, he wondered if she’d ever been beyond her home or stepped into the darkness. He knew that his life wasn’t for everyone and didn’t want to subject someone full of so much light, to something so cold.

“Did you sense it whilst we were there?”

Cassian’s question dragged Azriel back to why they were truly there, the matter of his mate paused until they got what they were looking for. But Azriel didn’t realise that the one thing he’d be looking for was her.

“No, nothing.” Rhys turned as the doors opened, the dawn courts high lord entering.

“Well why didn’t you ask my favourite mender?” Thesan asked, but he waved his hand as if answering his own question. “She did let you in, did she not?”

“I fear that our missing relic is still under the mountain, her collection did not give us any clues,” Rhysand said glancing to Thesan, the warmth in his eyes dulled at the mention of the mountain. He too had been trapped beneath it, the last resort of returning was changing to a definite return.

“Ah,” Thesan paused, a strained smile twitched his lips. “ You see the mender is a relic herself. She too survived under the mountain and is the reason we have so much knowledge on the subject.”

Azriel felt the tight pull in his chest, so she had known darkness. He rubbed his chest, wondering if she felt the same jolt there too. His shadows being a reminder of her time there, maybe that’s why she preferred the light glaring down upon her. No curtains or furniture blocking the large windows that dominated the small studio she worked in.

“Would she be able to show us the way without actually going there?” Cassian asked. Azriel thankful that he had spoken up first. His thoughts were tangled, but they all led to her and her safety.

“You would have to ask her.”

[Part two]

I wrote this on my phone and not edited so might be some errors