#melodic-healer

[pellucid-constellations]

Only in Dreams

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: In his dreams, Azriel recounts how he got to his mate.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Some angst, mentions of injuries

a/n: Hi this is my first acotar fic idk what I'm doing. I've been reading them for years so here's a little one for fun <3 I know it's different from my usual but inspiration is a finicky creature :) Also, italics denote flashbacks.

~~

There was very little Azriel wouldn’t do for his mate. 

He had learned that early on. 

In those early days, when the bond had made itself known to only him, there was so much confusion and strife within the shadowsinger. He had known you for decades, admired you from afar, and befriended you under self-made pretenses. You were a light, a healer, too good and sweet to be anything to him other than a friend, a coworker. 

But you were also his mate. 

The air had been knocked from his lungs at the realization. 

“Is everything okay?” you had asked, sweet confusion bunching at your brows. 

And Azriel couldn’t answer, not for several long beats. 

“Az, what’s wrong? You look like Cassian after he took that weird herb Majda wanted me to test.”

Another bout of silence, this time accompanied by soft, warm hands along his cheeks. You leaned in, the sweet scent knocking him out of his stupor. As he jerked back, you only followed, blinking in surprise. 

“Azriel—” 

“I apologize,” he finally—weakly—stammered out. “I was talking with Rhys.” 

“You were talking with Rhys?” 

It hadn’t sounded much like a question, but Azriel nodded anyways, enraptured by you and your closeness. He needed to get away, to leave. You were too close. He was too weak. 

But then you giggled, and the sound was so melodic and saccharine that he found himself breathless again. He could get lost in that sound. If he was being honest with himself, he had gotten lost in that sound plenty of times before. But now… now. Gods, now you were his mate. 

As you laughed some more, teasing retorts echoing in the air, Azriel knew you had no idea. 

And, as Azriel had learned, that was fine. You didn’t need to know. Because he knew, and that was enough. 

Enough for the overwhelming devotion he felt for you to finally have substance. To finally be validated. 

You were his—everything sweet and good was his to protect. And, gods, did he want to protect you. 

You made that very difficult in the weeks after the bond had snapped for him. His instincts were in overdrive, taking note of your every move and praying to the cauldron that you were careful when he was sent on missions and you stayed back in Velaris. He had nothing to worry about when that was the case. The inner circle loved you almost as much as he did. 

But then Rhys decided you were needed. 

With an unreciprocated mating bond and a mate that cared so little for her own self-preservation, that had been Azriel’s worst nightmare. 

“Reconsider.” 

“There is nothing to reconsider, Azriel. We need a healer in Windhaven to show them that the clipping won’t be seen to fruition. And y/n just so happens to be our court healer,” Rhys carefully explained for the third time. 

“Send Majda.” 

Rhys held the bridge of his nose. “There is a reason y/n took over her post. Madja is far too old to be making those kinds of trips.” 

“Send anyone else,” Azriel rasped, a tightness to his words. 

“No. She is the best. It will only be for a few weeks and Cassian—” 

“Rhysand.” 

Rhys paused at the desperation laced within his brother’s tone. He removed the fingers attempting to abate the ache along his temple and observed Azriel’s clenched fists and restless shadows. Rhys’s lips parted in shock, his eyes blinking in quick succession. Something clicked within his gaze.

“Is she…” 

The muscle in Azriel’s jaw quivered. “Just don’t send her there. Please.” 

Rhys raised a hand to run down his jaw. “My gods, Azriel. This is…this is—does she know?” 

“No,” he replied, quick and low. 

“I understand what you’re feeling, but I can’t stop her. You know that, brother.” 

And, unfortunately, Azriel knew that. 

When you set your mind to something—when you knew you were going to help people—that was it. There would be nothing keeping you from helping those in need. Especially the Illyrian women. Azriel was pretty sure you kept a dartboard somewhere in the house with Lord Devlon’s face on it. 

He loved that about you, truly he did. But it also made you reckless.

There were plenty of instances where you burned yourself out from healing. You would come home swaying on your feet or be so depleted you couldn’t even winnow correctly. He could count on two hands the amount of times you passed out at the dinner table after work. When he thought about you doing that in Windhaven… Azriel couldn’t even stomach the thought. 

“Then order her,” Azriel gritted out. He could hear you coming. You and Cassian, bags packed, chatting down the hall about something insignificant. 

Why couldn’t he come, again? 

Right, because he would “stir up the camp” or whatever obtuse reason Rhys had given him. 

“You know that won’t go over well,” Rhys countered. 

“Neither will the entirety of Windhaven if she gets hurt.” 

Azriel’s threat fell on deaf ears as you came bounding into the room, bright and determined and smiling at him as if you weren’t leaving. 

“Here to see us off, Az?” 

That trip to Windhaven had been awful—for Azriel and for you. Rhys’s “ordering” hadn’t been effective, and neither had Cassian’s ability to pick up on context clues. As you stood, baffled at Rhys’s sudden change in plans, Cassian didn’t so much as look at Azriel’s subtle vies for assistance. Because Cassian had been just as baffled as you were. 

So, you went to Windhaven. 

And then you came home hurt. 

Not terribly, just a few cuts and a black eye that rivaled his own from the last time he trained with the Valkyries. 

Cassian explained that there had been a fight unrelated to you, but you had gotten caught up in it. He suspected it was a ploy to get hands on you, but Azriel had stopped listening to him the second you landed on the balcony with stitches on your forehead. The moment he saw your hands bandaged and your eye purple and blue. 

You had laughed about your inability to fight, knocking an injured hand into Cassian’s side as he jested that it was time for you to get into the training ring with him. Later, Azriel would agree with that sentiment. In that moment, however, unparalleled fear had coursed through his veins. Rhys was the only one ready for it. 

Cassian’s back slammed into the far wall of the house, wings splaying out against stone. Azriel’s shadows were gone as he held his brother against the wall, abandoning him in favor of wrapping around your wounds. 

Azriel thought he heard you scream. 

“You said you would protect her!” he seethed, pushing his forearm against Cassian’s throat, blue siphon blazing atop his hand.

“Azriel, stop!” Your call went unheard. Rhys stood ground in front of you, arm jutting out when you tried to get around him. 

Cassian pushed back against him, face twisted in confusion. “I did. I pulled her from that fight as soon as I could, Az. You think—” his words cut off with another shove from his brother “—you think I would have let anything happen to her on purpose?” 

Azriel growled, low and dangerous. “All I think is that my mate came back looking like that when you swore to take care of her. You swore.” 

The room went silent, stagnant. Even the shadows halted their appraisal of you as you held onto Rhys’s arm. Cassian stopped fighting. Somewhere down the hall, the rushed footsteps of some other member of the family abruptly stopped. 

“She’s your mate?” 

“Azriel—” Your whisper was lost in the lingering chaos of the room. 

The time after was a blur for Azriel. He knew he left the balcony, retreating to his room hastily after sending you a longing, apologetic glance. He knew you called after him, that you were breathless and shaking and Rhys kept holding you back… telling you to give him some time to cool off. 

He didn’t need time. He needed you, and Azriel had been positive that would never happen now. 

Half of his shadows joined him in his room, engulfing him as he sat on his bed with his head in his hands. The other half stayed with you, still worried about the pain that you had endured. It was a miracle you hadn’t sent them away. They would have listened to you if you had. They would always listen to you. 

When the door creaked, his shadows covered him even more, encasing his fear and worry and embarrassment into a shell that kept him safe. 

He was a fool. 

“Azriel?” 

He had to be imagining the sweet trill of your voice. There was no way you had come for him, not after all of that. But soon, your shoes slinked into the mess of shadows between his legs, and a bandaged hand gently guided his chin up. 

When he met your eyes, his shadows circled faster. His wings fell lower and lower against the bed, giving himself up to your gaze. 

“Azriel,” you repeated, music within the swish of dark air. “Care to explain, shadowsinger?”

The bruises on your face made his stomach turn. He went to look away, to escape this physical and mental turmoil, but you only locked your wrists and kept him there. 

It took him a moment, but he finally relented. 

“You are my mate,” he spoke, gravely and unsure—even though that was the one thing Azriel was sure of above all else. “You are my mate and you are hurt. I am sorry for my actions… if I scared you or—” 

“I wasn’t asking about the display of male violence on the balcony.” Your teasing smile made some of his shadows rest.

It also made hope swell within the deepest parts of Azriel’s wearied chest. 

You didn’t look forlorn at his offhanded declaration, nor did you look repulsed. You just looked like… you. You looked at him as you always had, and maybe that meant something. 

Maybe that was something for Azriel to hold onto. 

“How long have you known?” you asked, when he spent a moment too long admiring the upturn of your mouth. 

Azriel blinked, moving his eyes back to your own. “A while.” 

“And you weren’t going to tell me?” You didn’t sound accusatory, or even angry as he was sure Feyre had all those years ago. You only sounded sad. That made it worse. 

“I wanted to tell you,” Azriel stressed, leaning forward on the bed to capture your legs between his. “I wanted to, I just—y/n, I just…” 

There was no solid explanation. You didn’t rush him as he stumbled over his words—you were patient, as you always were. You were patient and Azriel was a coward.

Determination set a line in his brow. 

“I was a coward,” he affirmed. “I didn’t want to push you away… to make you feel unsure or pressured. You are… you are everything. You have been everything to me for many years now. If I had ruined that—if I had pushed something upon you that you did not want—” 

“Has it occurred to you, Azriel, that I would very much like to be your mate?” 

Azriel paused his spiel, licking his drying lips as he searched your eyes for the lie. 

“Only when I dream.” 

You had kissed him after that, all bruised and scratched and broken, and Azriel found himself dreaming.

As he stared at you across the sitting room, surrounded by your raucous, disruptive family, Azriel dreamed again. The glow of the fire lit up the side of your face as you laughed, sending warmth up the long-accepted mating bond, and he dreamed of you in every iteration of his life. 

And he would do anything to keep that dream alive.

[bloddysnow]

Summary: You are an emperor, and you have your own harem consisting of four consorts.

Pairings: Sub! Bottom! Zayne/Sylus/Rafayel/Xavier x Dom! Top! Gn! Reader

nsfw minors dni

They have different features and characters, each of which is a unique combination of beauty, strength and charm.

The first consort, Zayne was a skillful healer, known for his wisdom and insight. He was not only handsome, but also smart. His knowledge of herbs and medicines helped to keep you in good health, helping to stay full of strength and energy. He often gave you valuable advice in governing the state. He had a refined taste and exquisite grace. His outfits have always been made with elegance.

The second consort, Rafayel, has a passionate temperament and burning beauty. Something about him always makes him the center of attention in any room. He chooses the most precious fabrics and jewelry to emphasize his beauty. Rafayel spends his days perfecting the art of dance, demonstrating flexibility and ability to control his body. He was not only a talented dancer, but also a skillful musician. In the evenings, he plays the lyre, hoping to attract you with melodic sounds and his angelic voice. His talent was known far beyond the palace.

The third consort, Sylus is famous for his wisdom and deep knowledge of poetry and philosophy. Passion and temptation permeates his every movement and every word. His eyes burn with the fire of thirst, giving mystery. He is also a master of martial arts. His grace and dexterity delighted everyone who saw his training. He often quotes poems and philosophical thoughts, hoping to win your heart through mind and soul.

The fourth consort, Xavier is known for his innocence and sincerity. He wears light and bright outfits that emphasize his young beauty. Its beauty is emphasized by simplicity and naturalness. He likes to walk in the garden and pick flowers. He wants to attract you with his purity and innocence. His room is filled with the scents of fresh flowers and the soft light of candles since he every evening hopes that you’ll want to visit him.

They dress up in frank clothes that barely cover their bodies to better demonstrate the traces of your caresses - dark spots and red marks from love bites that cover their delicate skin with a marble pattern. Every sign you leave is considered a pride, and they do not hide them under their makeup, but show them out.

At public meetings, banquets, parties and most social events, your consorts properly stand right behind your back and will always accompany you. Their presence behind your back symbolized the unity and strength of the imperial family. They’ll hide their faces under face veil, leaving only their eyes open. Since childhood, they have been taught that their bodies belong only to the emperor, and this knowledge is deeply rooted in their minds. Because of this, they cannot get physical pleasure on their own, knowing that their purpose is to serve only you.

As an emperor, you are aware of the importance of fair and respectful treatment of your consorts. And you try to pay equal attention to them all, making sure that each of them feels loved and valuable.

Evenings in the garden with Xavier have become an oasis of calm and happiness for you. The garden has an atmosphere of peace and harmony created by the rustle of foliage, the singing of birds and the quiet murmur of the fountain. Xavier brings the book he chose in advance and sits on the soft grass under the shade of an old oak leaning against it. You settle down next to him, putting your head on his lap. His hands begin to gently stroke your hair. He opens the book and starts reading aloud. His voice, soft and expressive, fills the space around you. Closing your eyes, you enjoy every minute spent with him.

Sylus often asks you to practice with him. One of your rules was the following: if he wins, you will fulfill any of his wishes. He attacks quickly and deftly, trying to find vulnerabilities. You, in turn, fight back, always trying to keep a balance between defense and attack. However, despite his aspiration and skills, he has never managed to defeat you. You are always one step ahead. You know that the real goal of these trainings is not victory, but time spent together. And this ends with Sylus breathing heavily with his hands around your neck, feeling the warmth of your body. Your hands wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. His lips are warm, persistent, conveying all the passion that he may have been holding back for a long time.

Rafayel, dressed in light silk clothes, slowly goes to the center of the hall, illuminated by the soft light of candles. The sounds of darbuka and qanun begin to fill the space. Smooth waves run through his body, starting from his hips and rising up his spine. He skillfully uses his shoulders. His hands gently twist, repeating the curves of the melody, and his fingers touch the invisible strings, adding a touch of magic to the dance. His hips make graceful movements, synchronously swaying in the rhythm of melody. His body is the true perfection of beauty. Each muscle contraction, each movement emphasizes the ideal lines of his figure. The light of candles plays on his skin, creating a game of shadows and emphasizing every muscle. When he looks at you, it seems that time stops. His eyes are full of depth and passion, you can drown in them, forgetting about everything in the world. It's like they bewitched you, and you can't take your eyes off him. They reflect the whole world, full of mysteries and secrets that he is ready to share only with you.

In the majestic imperial palace, immersed in luxury and splendor, your life was surrounded by Zayne's care and attention. Not trusting the servants, Zayne personally followed every aspect of your daily life. It was his personal privilege and duty that he was proud of. Taking care of the emperor gave him some pleasure. He chooses your outfit for the day, also takes care of your hairstyle, skillfully styling your hair and giving it a neat look. He makes sure that consorts didn't bother you and asks you every night if you wanted to visit someone's quarters. Zayne takes care of his emperor with awe and love, trying to protect you from all possible troubles and worries. As a sign of gratitude for his tireless care and devotion, you often took his hands in your own and gratefully kiss them. Zayne was always embarrassed at these moments, looking away.

Their hearts are pounding in anticipation of your next choice, and each of them is eager to be in emperor’s quarters again. When they find themselves in your bed, their moans and screams become loud and passionate, breaking the silence of the night. It's not only an expression of their pleasure, but also a way to show others your closeness to them. They cry, clutching your cock buried deep inside them, and whisper through tears: "I'm y-your favorite, right?" Their voices tremble with emotions, and their hearts beat in the hope of confirming their uniqueness and love.

Their bellies become swollen from the amount of sperm inside their wombs. When you gently press on their stomach, white sperm flows out of their hole, and they whine, asking you not to waste it. Each of them dreams of giving birth to the first heir, who will strengthen his position in the harem and give him power and respect.

Masterlist

[srvbryn]

Luke Castellan. Wounds

Luke Castellan X Apollo!Daughter!reader

Summary: In which Luke got small wounds and he's being stubborn as hell

"I don't need your healing magic power ugh" "yes yes you do <333"

A/n: "I can change him" "remember who the real enemy is!" I might join him instead and I'm trying aaaah 😭

Luke Castellan lay in his makeshift infirmary, his usually vibrant eyes dulled by sickness.

Annabeth, had insisted on a medical check-up, much to his stubborn resistance.

The camp's medic, not daring to face Luke, had reluctantly agreed to let (Name), the daughter of Apollo, tend to him.

"(Name)," Luke rasped, his voice a mere whisper. "I don't need your healing powers. I'm perfectly fine."

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by his defiance. "Sure, Luke. That's why you're lying here looking like you went a few rounds with a cyclops."

He managed a grin. "Maybe I did. It's just a scratch."

She shook her head, a small smile on her lips. "You're impossible, Luke."

As she examined him, he couldn't help but notice the warmth in her hands and the calming aura that enveloped her.

It was a stark contrast to the cold atmosphere of the infirmary.

"You're lucky Annabeth forced you into this check-up," she remarked, her fingers over his forehead. "You wouldn't last another day without proper care."

"I don't need anyone to take care of me," he mumbled, though his resistance was losing its edge.

"Oh, I can see that," she teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "That's why you're practically glowing with health."

He rolled his eyes but didn't protest.

There was something about her presence that eased his discomfort. Maybe it was the gentle way she treated him or the fact that she was the only one he tolerated when he was at his weakest.

"You know," he began, his voice a bit less strained, "I might consider getting sick more often if you're the one taking care of me."

She chuckled, a melodic sound that filled the infirmary. "Nice try, Luke. But I think once is more than enough for everyone involved."

Their banter continued, the atmosphere lightening with each exchanged word.

As she administered a healing concoction, their eyes met, and a silent understanding passed between them.

"You're not so bad when you're not plotting world domination," she teased, a soft smile gracing her features.

He grinned, the playful glint returning to his eyes. "World domination is overrated anyway. I think I'd rather have someone take care of me like you do."

She chuckled again, the flirtatious undertone not lost on either of them. "Well, don't get too comfortable. This is a one-time offer."

"Shame," he replied with a mock pout. "I was starting to enjoy being pampered by the favorite daughter of Apollo."

As the day turned into evening, (Name) continued to stay by Luke's side. The infirmary, once a place of discomfort, became a home of shared laughter and a connection that went beyond the demigod duties.

In the quiet moments, as Luke drifted into a restful sleep, (Name) couldn't help but admire the vulnerability beneath his tough exterior.

And so, in the warm glow of the infirmary's lamps, the daughter of Apollo watched over the fallen hero, silently acknowledging that sometimes, even the strongest warriors needed a healer's touch to mend both body and soul.

[velariscalling]

Poison - A Cassian Imagine

Characters: Cassian x Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: Cassian and Reader have some history, and when she captures him for Hybern, they pick up where they left off, despite how she may have just cursed him to death.

Warnings: Smut, oral (both receiving), restraints, wingplay for a sec, mentions/description of injury, mentions of death, Cassian is literally poisoned.

A/N: Ok my first smut is here, please be kind lol. I'm actually much more nervous posting this than I was with my first fic, which is crazy! Also, happy birthday to the wonderful @sarawritestories! I hope you like it my lovely <3

Disclaimer: GIF isn't mine - credit to whoever it belongs to.

“Very good work, I’m impressed.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Cassian stifled a groan as he rolled his neck to the side, cracking the bones that had gone stiff in his slumber. The voices he heard continued, but muffled as if he were underwater, and his vision swam so much that he nearly gagged.

He moved to reach an arm up to rub the back of his neck, needing to relieve the dull ache he felt, when he realised his hands weren’t moving. They couldn’t move. The chains rattled around his wrists over the alarm sounding in his brain as he snapped back into action, seeing the world in stark clarity.

“Oh, you’re awake,” A melodic voice chirped up from a few metres away. Why did that voice sound so familiar? “I’m glad. I missed you, actually.”

Cassian lifted his head and his eyes focused on the female stood in the shadows, leaning against the wall casually. Something sinister glinted from her hands in the flickering light - something metal, he realised with a jolt. No. Remain calm. That’s the one thing he would never forget from his training - never let your opponent know what you’re truly feeling. Even if you’re completely shitting it. “What is this? Or better yet, who are you?” He asked with lethal calm, still training his eyes on the dark silhouette, coaxing her to take the bait and fear him.

A huff sounded from the darkness. “I’m hurt, Cassian,” She stepped forward, illuminating her features only slightly, but enough for him to make out her exaggerated pout. “Really hurt. Here I was thinking we could have had something, and you don’t even remember me? We are definitely not off to a good start.” She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot, sighing like a disappointed mother with a shake of her head.

He squinted, zoning in on her features. Her stature, her hair, her eyes. It wasn’t until his gaze met the intensity of her stare that the memories began to wash over him like ice cold water.

~~~

Leading an army into war was never going to be an easy task. Cassian knew this - it was not the first time he’s done so of course. But when so many of his front line had been struck down by Hybern soldiers, it was a little difficult to remain level-headed. For the first time in his centuries of experiences, Cassian felt like his control was slipping from his grasp.

People were coming at him from every direction, soldiers informing him of their comrades’ predicaments, and not a single one of these people seemed to scent the blood soaking through his leathers, or notice the wound gaping from his arm. Cassian winced every time something brushed against it or he had to move the arm, but continued to tend to the injured as much as he could before sending them to the healers tent.

“You’re hurt,” A soft voice stopped him in his tracks. He turned to look in the direction the voice had come from, only to spy a female, not looking to be more than a couple of centuries old. A healer, it seems.

“You would be the first to notice,” Cassian responded gruffly. He couldn’t help noticing how beautiful she was, like an angel come to help him during his time of need, but he quickly brushed off the thought, deeming it inappropriate in the current time and place. And frankly, irrelevant. “It’s fine, I have things to sort out-”

“Cassian, if I may,” she interrupted, eyes careful as she gauged his reaction to her urgency. “You’ll bleed out if you don’t get someone to take a look at this soon. Please, come with me to my tent and I will fix you up. It should only take a few minutes at most.”

Cassian’s brain ticked back and forth, weighing up the options. He knew that his priority should be his men - it's always been the army first, himself later - but she was just so inviting. And as the gash on his arm throbbed with pain, he found himself nodding at her in agreement.

Her tent was small, and more or less bare. He didn’t even notice the lack of a bed, or even a blanket to sleep on. Only a chair which she gently coaxed him onto as she opened a small kit, mixing together an ointment to apply to his arm. She left it on the side to sit for a moment, presumably to let the compounds mould together before use, and approached him with a wet rag.

The way she peered down at him intently as she cleaned his arm had his cheeks flushing from something other than pain and stress. He silently thanked his already red cheeks for concealing any giveaway that the intimidating general was really just a big softie. He flicked his eyes up to watch as she worked, and couldn’t help but take in all the details of her face: the slight squint as she concentrated, the way her eyes flicked back and forth to ensure there were no bits of dirt remaining in the blood, and how her tongue poked out between her teeth as she focused. There was something else about her as well that he couldn’t quite pin-point… something familiar, as if he recognised her, but also something- something wrong. Like her features had been rearranged to conceal someone he used to know.

“Do you often stare at your healers?” She asked as the stepped away to dispose of the rag, interrupting his train of thought. Her tone was chastising, but the ever so subtle cheek to her voice gave away the tease.

Cassian bristled, fumbling for a moment as he felt like he got caught doing something he shouldn’t, and frantically searched for a way to jump back on top of the situation as she shook her ointment, seemingly satisfied that it was ready. “Only the pretty ones,” He grinned smugly, completely in control in that effortless, almost arrogant way of his.

The healer raised her eyebrows as she approached him, an amused glint in her eyes as she steadied his arm with one hand and prepared the ointment with the other. “This might hurt,” she said shortly, before pressing it against his wound. Cassian hissed in pain, gritting his teeth together to try to dampen the blow. This was worse than actually getting the gash in the first place, he thought.

A few moments passed, which felt ridiculously long to Cassian, until the female straightened her back and took her hands away from his arm. “All done,” she quipped, before turning away from him to dispose of her equipment once again. Cassian unclenched his fists at his side in an attempt to relax, despite the tingling in his arm resembling a dance troupe of a million needles tapping away on his bloody cut. “You might want to sit there for a moment, Cassian. Not everyone reacts well to the medicine, I would like to make sure you’re okay before you get back out there.”

Cassian shook his head softly. “I’ll be fine, thank you for your care,” he began, ready to brush off her advice with a wave of his hand. He attempted to stand up from the chair, using the armrests to push himself up, but he barely rose a few inches before his head swam as if he’d been dealt an uppercut to the chin, and he fell back into the seat with a gasp. His body was suddenly heavier than he’d ever felt it before, every single limb feeling like it had at least three sand bags attached. “Shit…” he mumbled, his vision scattered with sparkling dots and patches of darkness.

“Just relax, Cassian…”

Her voice sounded distant, like a call to slumber, beckoning him to fall victim to the darkness. And as his head lulled to the side, he allowed it to coax him into the abyss, just as he saw the glamour flicker off her face.

~~~

“Y/N.”

“Surprise, Cassian,” She grinned as she stepped closer, completely leaving the darkness in order for Cassian to see her face - her real face.

“So, you poisoned me,” Cassian deadpanned, after his memories fully returned. “You posed as a healer, and infected me with poison through my cut.”

Y/N’s eyes sparkled as she watched it all come back to him, piece by piece fitting together in a puzzle to create a complete picture. “And didn’t I put on such a spectacular performance?” Cassian rolled his eyes, averting his eyes from her piercing gaze as she continued talking at him. “You were so enamoured with me. And all from one pure act of kindness? So easy to please, General. I’m just a little offended I didn’t look like me at the time.”

“Enough changing the subject,” Cassian growled, growing increasingly irritated, not only at the female in front of him but also the fact that he was not in control. He needed control. “Who glamoured you? The King himself? I wouldn’t put it past his petty ass.”

Y/N scoffed, delighted to see his agitation. “Does it matter? You’re here now, exactly as planned.” She ran a menacing finger down the edge of the blade in her hand, watching the shine of the metal. The contrast was stark - the deadly glint of the dagger against her soft, delicate skin. But Cassian knew that that was her own, constant glamour. There was nothing delicate about her - she was more deadly than any weapon.

As Cassian tested the chains round his wrists binding him to the armrests, he realised the grave mistake he made. He roared in pain as the chains sizzled his flesh, and Y/N couldn’t help but bite her lip to surpress a grin at the way his muscles tensed and rippled as he writhed. “I wouldn’t bother, darling. Faebane chains. Aren’t they fantastic?”

Gritting his teeth, Cassian opened his previously clenched eyes, setting on her with an air of distaste. “Anything else up your sleeve?” The question was dry, sick to death of the games already, but the excitement practically vibrating off Y/N told him she wasn’t finished with him just yet.

“Well, maybe just one tiny detail. You may have woken up from that poison, but that doesn’t mean it’s not still in your system. You’ll die without the antidote.” She said idly, eyebrows raised with a slight mocking pout on her lips as she examined her fingernails without a care in the world.

Cassian startled. He knew there was more to the story, of course there was, but that is not what he was expecting. His mind whirred with a way to get out of this situation, a way to turn the tables in his favour, but he kept coming up short. “What’s the point, Y/N? Huh? You never even told me why I’m here in the first place, I think it’s only fair that if I’m gonna die, I should at least know why I’m going down.”

“Well of course I was going to tell you, I’m not a monster,” Y/N laughed - actually laughed. “You’re here because we can’t have you commanding those Illyrian bastards to victory. Without you, they’re lost, leaving the goal wide open for a win for my side. Silly little baby, aren’t you?” She went to tap his nose - condescending little bitch, Cassian thought, and turned his head to the side with a grimace, which Y/N did not like one bit. That playful grin on her face was gone in an instant, replaced by a face so stoney and cold that even the worst of creatures would be afraid. In that split second of rage, Y/N grabbed Cassian’s jaw with her whole hand and yanked him back to face her where she was suddenly inches away from him. “That was rude, Cassian.”

Then, he snapped. He finally snapped, and her hand around his jaw, commanding him as if she were his superior was the breaking point. Her control was his breaking point as he spat in her face, completely losing his grip on the leash to his anger. But Y/N… oh no, Y/N wasn’t so easily perturbed, and as Cassian’s rage subsided and he watched her eye him with malice, he remembered as much.

“So feisty,” she purred as she wiped her face with her hand, eyes not leaving his pissed expression for a minute. She just loved the way his jaw ticked with anger, and how sharp the lines of his face became as he watched her every move, just like he used to do… well, with less anger and more lust. “You used to love when I took control, Cassian, remember?”

Gods, he remembered, of course he did. He remembered their secret rendezvous, the way they snuck around not to get caught. He remembered how she would crawl on top of him agonisingly slowly, and kiss all the way up his abs and chest, leaving her scent all over his body. Or how they’d wind up cramped in a tiny storage closet, her back pressed against the wall and her nails digging into his skin as he took her as his own, stifling their sounds of pleasure at the mere whisper of someone walking past. But what he loved most was when his face was buried between her thighs as she crossed her ankles, locking him in, his own hips rutting against the bed for any sort of friction he could get amidst the desperation to draw high after high from her.

“Oh,” Her voice dipped in honey shook him out of his reverie as he remembered where he was, hands bound and body poisoned. He caught her eyes once more, and a gasp escaped him as he saw just how blown out her pupils had become, almost sucking up any light remaining. “I think someone still likes that idea.” It took Cassian a moment to realise what she meant, and just how sloppy he had become. During his trip down memory lane, he had allowed his scent to shift, completely exposing just how turned on she still had the power to make him.

With eyes like the devil, Y/N leaned forward and licked a hot stripe up the side of Cassian’s neck, dropping her dagger in favour of caging him in with her arms. “Remember this?” She asked, her voice dripping with seduction as she moved to brush her lips up his clenched jaw, a hand slowly travelling down his front. Once her lips had reached his ear and she nibbled on the soft flesh of the lobe, her fingers ghosted across the growing bulge in his lap. “And this?” She whispered, her breath on his ear making him shiver as she squeezed lightly, feeling him through his leathers. She bit her lip - he was just as big as she remembered. Cassian grunted at the feeling, teeth clenched in a feeble attempt not to give himself over so easily, despite the fact that they both knew it was useless.

Y/N pulled away far too soon, leaving Cassian feeling cold without her touch. “Are you tempted yet? I’m sure there are better ways we could be using this time, don’t you think?” She began to circle his chair, eyeing him up like a predator would stalk their prey. Oh, how she loved seeing him try to fight it, fight her, fight his inevitable arousal. It was already thick in the air, weighing down on them both, and he was only lying to himself.

“Better ways such as letting me go so I can lead my armies?” Cassian countered. Gods, he was so adorable when he tried to steer the conversation away from what he truly wants. His voice was so tense, almost like he was in pain, trying to reign in his instincts to ravage her… not that there was a whole lot he could do from his position. But any self-restraint was shattered once Y/N had made her way behind him and trailed a delicate finger along the edge of his wing. A strangled groan left his mouth as soon as she made contact, just like she used to do, her nail grazing the fragile skin.

“Don’t be silly, Cassian,” she crooned, breathing hot air onto the trail of fire she just left on his wing. She made her way back around to his front, studying him like she was able to see right through him. With her lips curled up wickedly, she leaned in once again, placing her hands on both of his muscled thighs. “Are you nervous, General?”

“No,” Cassian breathed, throat tight and strained. A lie.

“Do you want me?” A shift of her hands, closer to where he was straining against his pants.

“Yes.”

The word came out too quickly, and Cassian could have cursed his mind for running on auto-pilot and blurting it out, but he knew it was the truth. He couldn’t take it anymore. He was desperate, and if his needs weren’t sated, he would become a wild animal bucking and thrashing to get out of these chains, uncaring if they burned all the way through his wrists.

“Say it again. I need to know you mean it.”

“Yes, Y/N,”

The next few moments were a blur, but all he knew was that he felt the chill air on his cock, hard and leaking, and that Y/N was already on her knees. Fuck. Her eyes glimmered with a sinful satisfaction at how red and throbbing she’d managed to already make him, and she leaned forward to gently lick the bead of pre-cum that sat on his tip. Cassian shivered, wanting nothing more than to wind his fingers in her hair and push her down on his cock, but all he could do was watch. Y/N had always been in control, really, and a part of him buried deep down had always liked it. His waiting cock pulsed at the thought, which didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N, a wide grin spreading across her face before she dipped her head and took him in her mouth.

Cassian’s head tipped back in pleasure, his body completely at her mercy as she bounced her head up and down, taking him like only she could. “Fuck, you were always so good at this,” he groaned, fists clenched to make up for the way he longed to touch her. “Take me so fucking deep.”

Y/N moaned around him as she took him as deep as she possibly could at his words, the vibrations causing him to buck his hips up into her mouth. His cock hit the back of her throat and she gagged, an obscene wet sound filling the room as she pulled her lips off him with a pop. The sight was truly erotic, as a string of saliva connected her mouth to his weeping cock.

“Why’d you stop?” Cassian panted, ignoring the desperate tinge to his voice. Ignoring how he’d become a puppet for her to play with. “I was getting close, come on, just-” He made to reach for her again, before he remembered the lesson he’d learnt earlier. Y/N only watched on, amused.

“You’re getting weak,” she tutted as she rose from the floor. “Have you forgotten, Cassian? You can’t cum unless you can make me cum first. Those were always the rules…” she trailed off as she undid the buttons of her leathers, pulling them down along with her panties in front of him. Putting on a show that he was only allowed to watch, and not participate in. For now.

Cassian’s eyes bulged as she carefully climbed on top of him, making sure to avoid the chains and planting her feet either side of him. She stood, holding onto the back of the chair for balance, and it was then that she lifted one leg, planting her foot next to where she held the chair, exposing her glistening core to him. “Are you gonna be able to make me cum, Cassian? Or has it been too long that you’ve lost your touch? It would be a shame to leave that cock of yours desperate and leaking, but rules are rules.”

“Please,” Cassian felt the shock as Y/N’s eyebrows rose at his plea. She didn’t think he’d ever begged before. He was even surprised at himself, but didn’t have enough time to think about it. No, there was no time, he needed to act, and act now. “Please Y/N come on, I can do it, just let me taste-” His words were cut off as Y/N pressed herself against his mouth, turning his rambling into muffled noises.

Cassian responded immediately, as if a shot of adrenaline had been released into his veins. His tongue flicked out, lapping up her wetness that had been pooling in her panties ever since he woke up. He groaned at the taste, plunging his tongue inside her, trying to taste as much of her sweet nectar as he possibly could. “You’ve missed this, haven’t you?” Y/N gasped, her tone almost patronising, but Cassian didn’t care. Quite the opposite, actually - this side of her always had him craving more and more. She grabbed hold of his hair that had long since fallen out of it’s half-bun, and began rocking her hips against his face. “Look what a little time off has reduced you to. A desperate, begging mess, just for me.”

He was in a state of utter bliss. Cassian held his tongue out obediently, allowing Y/N to ride him as she pleases. She spread her wetness over his mouth and chin, coating the stubble prickling on his skin, and she moaned as her clit rubbed deliciously against his nose. “Stay there for me General, that’s it,”

Cassian groaned as she used him for her own pleasure, content to be her personal fuck toy. But as his knuckles turned white with the force that he was gripping the armrests with, it was clear how much he wanted to use those bound hands. He wanted to slap that ass as she rocked her hips until his handprint was burned into her skin. He wanted to reach up and play with her nipples that he knew were hard and perky for him. And better yet, he wanted to explore even further inside her with his fingers, further than his tongue could reach, and have her release crashing down on him.

A wave of need washed over him and he grunted, moving to suck her clit into his mouth. Her balance wavered for a moment as she yelped, and Cassian couldn’t help but smirk. The one thing he could take control of in this situation was making her cum, so he vowed to do just that. He switched fervently between sucking her clit and licking bold stripes up her centre, determined now to give her an orgasm like it was his entire life’s purpose. The lewd noises coming from where his mouth met her core was enough to make her shiver as Cassian coaxed moan after moan from her.

“Getting close?” Cassian found his voice for a moment and growled against her skin, hell-bent on sending her over that edge. He’d do it if it was the last thing he ever did - which could end up being a possibility, strangely. But the Illyrian had completely forgotten about the poison eating away from him on the inside, that would be a problem he’d deal with later. After he felt her essence dripping down his chin and neck, staining his scent for weeks.

By the way Y/N’s hips stuttered as she attempted to speed up, he knew the answer. She was too proud to give him the satisfaction of an answer, but those pretty moans increasing in pitch sang to him his praise. As she neared her high, Y/N gripped Cassian’s hair and yanked it even harder, sending his eyes rolling back in his head as he helped her chase it, beckoning and pulling her to release. “Fuck, Cass,”

Hearing his name tumble from her lips as the reigns of her power slipped from her grasp had Cassian devouring her like he hasn’t eaten in weeks. His victory shone in his eyes as he watched her mouth gape open and felt her legs tremble, and her screams filled the dark room as she free fell into the best orgasm she’d ever had from someone using only their mouth. She had to admit, he had quite the talent with that tongue of his. Meanwhile, Cassian was in heaven. He didn’t care that he was bound to a chair in chains that would burn his flesh if he moved. He didn’t care that poison was rotting his insides minute by minute. He didn’t care that he was dying, and it was all her fault. All he cared about was the blissed out look on her face as she rode out her high on his face, and the taste that he prayed wouldn’t leave his mouth until his last breath.

A moment passed and Y/N regained her composure, sliding off his body and taking back her position of authority in front of him. Minus the clothes on her lower half, of course. “Not bad,” she quipped, plucking up her underwear from where it had been carelessly discarded.

Cassian chuckled darkly. “Whatever. You can pretend that wasn’t the best fucking orgasm you’ve had in a long time, I don’t care. You still taste just as delicious as I remember.” His eyes burned into her as she dressed herself, once again hiding herself from him, but he felt like he could see right through those leathers. “So?” He said expectantly, nodding down to where his cock was still hard and throbbing with need.

“Oh, Cassian…” The way Y/N shook her head and laughed quietly to herself had Cassian’s insides churning. Whatever was about to come out of her mouth, he had a funny feeling that he wasn’t going to like it. “You didn’t really think it would be that easy, did you? You gave me what I wanted and I thank you for that, but I’d much prefer to leave you here, desperate and needy and pathetic… oh, and dying.”

This bitch is a fucking psycho.

Cassian clenched his jaw so hard he thought it may shatter on impact. “And how might I get this antidote?” He seethed, his voice shaking with how hard he was trying to remain calm, as he always tried to do, whilst simultaneously attempting to ignore the humiliation of having his cock exposed and still ridiculously stood to attention.

Y/N sighed dramatically, placing a hand casually on her hip. “You know Cassian, I really don't want to kill you, truth be told. I’d like to keep you alive. But I’m not allowed to give you that antidote until the war is over and Hybern has won.” 

“So you’ll give it to me?”

“Depends. On how long the battle lasts. You might not last as long.”

Dead silence filled the room. Cassian didn’t deem this worthy of an answer. He was done with childish wordplay. He was bound, exposed, powerless and dying, and he intended to find a way out of all of that.

“As for that blowjob,” she continued, breaking the silence. Cassian raised his eyebrows, hating himself for the interest that bubbled up inside him, and also for the way his cock twitched. “Well… I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

With that, Y/N stepped back into the shadows, disappearing without a trace, leaving Cassian helpless in two ways. Searching for a way to free and save himself, and unable to relieve the throbbing ache from between his legs. At least, not until she returns…

UMMMMM PART 2 IDK???

[fanwarriorfictions]

Fix You

Short little Azriel one-shot. Sort of xReader but readers name is never used. I don’t know it’s just cute. Azriel is bad at taking care of himself, reader is a healer called to take care of him.

It was an effort to keep his wings from dragging behind him, the weight of them seemingly growing heavier and heavier the closer he got to the door.

He really should’ve just flown to the house of wind, taken a bath and collapsed into bed, but the moment he’d landed in Velaris, his body seemed to scream enough! And so he set about stumbling to the river house, cursing the dirt and blood caking his boots and leathers. There was no way he’d be able to get to his room without leaving a trail of it behind, a trail leading some busybody to his door to hound him to the healers office.

He didn’t need to go, he just needed to sleep it off. That’s what he kept telling himself even as his shadows whispered somethings wrong somethings wrong! Turns out the busybodies already found him.

“I’m fine,” he curses lowly, a scarred hand reaching for the door, “mind your own business.”

Usually the door wasn’t such a struggle to open, that should’ve been concerning, but Az was to focused on baths and beds to really care. He’d made it to the stairs, shadows frantically skittering around him, whispering so loud it hurt his head.

“Would you shut up?” He snaps.

The stairs looked impossibly steep, the ground was cold and bit at his wings, Feyre really picked a nice color to paint the walls, why is Cassian so loud?

“Az!”

He felt warm, a comforting feeling that almost lulls him back to sleep if it wasn’t for the voices surrounding him.

“What the hell happened?” A voice like night, familiar and filled with concern.

An equally familiar voice, “I came around the corner and he just fell face first into the stairs.”

“Call for Madja.”

“She’s away visiting Dawn,” a lighter voice sighs, “I’ll send for a healer from her clinic.”

The voices grew fainter, Az couldn’t tell if they moved away or if he was falling back into to blissful sleep, he didn’t need a healer, he just needed to rest. He tried to tell them that, but he was already asleep before he could even open his lips.

Cool fingers drift over his cheek, leaving a soothing trail of ice wherever they meet his flushed skin. The feeling is heavenly, he chases the hand as it falls away, grumbling quietly at the loss.

A melodic laugh sounds above him, he could bottle that sound and listen to it every day.

“He’ll be fine, other than a few cuts and bruises, which were already healing on their own when I got here, albeit slowly,” the voice says, “he overworked himself, sheer exhaustion caught up to him and his body just couldn’t keep up. I have some tonics to help him sleep, and to help with nutrition and energy levels.”

The words vaguely mean something to him, he doesn’t care what as long as she keeps speaking.

A loud sigh, “thank the Mother.”

His face scrunches up, why is he so loud.

Apparently he’d said the words aloud, he thinks at least due to the cough of a laugh and a disgruntled voice shouting, “hey!”

“Azriel,” the beautiful voice says, “how are you feeling?”

He sighs, lips turning up at the corners, “I’m fine, love.”

“Oh please,” the loud voice says, followed by the sound of smack.

The cool touch is back on his face, palm laid gently on his forehead, he feels a surge of energy beneath the touch, gently nudging away the fatigue over his mind. It comes back to him slowly, the loud voice, Cassian, the cool concerned one, Rhys. The house, the stairs, falling. The beautiful voice and gentle hands of the healer Feyre sent for to help him.

Azriel forces his eyes to open, first seeing his shadows dancing around him, dancing around soft fingers that pulled back from his face. He couldn’t rein in his shadows if he tried, not as they traveled up that arm towards the face of a female so beautiful it almost knocked him out again.

“You gave everyone quite the scare,” she says, a soft smile on lips that he is quite sure are just as soft, “how long has it been since you had a proper meal?”

He could detect the soft scolding tone of her voice and he couldn’t help the grin as he said, “is that an invitation?”

He vaguely heard the scoffed laugh of one of his brothers, a whispered conversation between the two of them and a pair of footsteps leaving the room.

The healer laughs quietly, a wonderful sound, “I see you’re in good spirits. That’s good.”

She smiles at a curious tendril of shadow that nudges at her cheek, almost like a cat seeking attention.

“It helps that I woke to the sound of an angel.” He’s glad his brothers left, he’d never hear the end of that one.

“I’m sure you say that to Madja all the time,” she chuckles, standing up to grab a bag off the desk by the door, “like I told your family, I’ve brought some tonics for you to get your strength back up, but they only work if you take care of yourself, shadowsinger.”

Azriel finally takes stock of the world around him then, his bedroom at the river house. The room elegantly decorated by Feyre to match the shadowsingers tastes. He lays on top of the deep navy duvet of his large bed, big enough for three Illryians. Someone had cleaned his clothes clothes, his boots and jacket gone, the black shirt and his leather pants clean of any stains.

The healer perches on the edge of the bed, eyes curiously assessing him. Beautiful his shadows whisper, and he could only agree. Absolutely beautiful.

Her hands reach out placing the tonics down on his night stand, arranging them with the carefully scrawled labels and instructions facing him. Her hand writing is soft and elegant, he wants to examine every swooping letter.

His shadows dance, twirling around the soft strands of her hair, tugging at her wrists to pull her towards him. He can’t find it in him to scold the things for it.

“You,” she turns towards the small wisp next to her face, “take care of him for me, please. Because I can tell he won’t listen to my advice.”

“Will you be here next time to patch me up,” he asks, “because if that’s the case I can assure you I won’t.”

She laughs, “don’t worry, I’ll fix you up if you need me. Just don’t make it a habit.”

Azriel grins, “no promises.”

She gives him a small smile in return, taking a bottle labeled sleep off the table, “I’ll be back with some tea. You need more rest.”

The shadows around her writhe, clearly not happy to see her go. She shoos them back, chuckling at their antics. Azriel watches her go, half tempted to ask her to stay, he wasn’t that far out of it to realize he shouldn’t do that.

Her voice flutters down the hall, talking to his brothers, asking oh so politely for some hot water and tea. They fade away towards the kitchen, even Cassian’s booming voice is muffled by the distance.

Azriel pushes off the bed to sit up slowly, his muscles feel more relaxed than he’s ever felt in his life, the vague memory of the painful state he’d been in feeling like a distant dream. Her magic worked its wonders on him, he could still feel it lingering there beneath his skin, almost like one of his shadows, examining him from head to toe in search of anything to fix.

“You shouldn’t get up to soon, you need to rest.”

There she was, a cup of tea balanced in one hand the other fisted on her hip. Her lips seem to try and frown but it looks more like a pout.

“I’m fine, love. I feel amazing actually,” he assures, “thanks to you.”

She sets the tea on the desk to her left, “my magic has that affect, like a pain relief tonic. It will continue to work until I leave, you are still healing so you may feel sore tomorrow, I’ve left a few pain tonics if you need them, if it is to much send for me, or Madja, she should be back in a few days, I know she is your preferred healer.”

His head tilts as listens to her ramble, loving the sound of her voice. He could listen to her talk all day long.

“Should I call for you even if I’m not in pain? Or is that a requirement for me to see you again? I’m sure either of my brothers would be happy to give me a few bruises for you to fix up.”

Her eyes light in amusement, “that is not necessary in the slightest.”

“Then I can call on you tomorrow? No fixing, maybe just some lunch?”

His shadows whisper in his ears but he’s to busy looking at her to listen to them.

“I’d like that, Azriel.”

His name on her lips sounds like the most beautiful song he’s ever heard. She hands him the tea and he drinks down the sweet liquid without question.

“You should get some rest,” she smiles, hands gently nudging his shoulders so he lays back down.

His eyes feel heavy, his body warm and relaxed, “thank you, angel.”

She laughs, “of course, shadowsinger.”

He’s drifting off to sleep, her laugh bringing him towards gorgeous dreams. His last shred of consciousness has only just enough time to think one thing before slipping through his grasp.

He’d never asked for her name.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Hello. Can you write Dark!Thranduil and a plus size female reader ? Please.

.⋆｡Auta Nissë｡⋆.

Dark!Thranduil x human!plus size reader

She was unique, she was beautiful, she was soft and by the gods, she would be his

Warnings: DARK FIC, kidnapping, forced marriage, obsession, mentions of death, magic, manipulation, no use of y/n, drugging

WC: 1.1k

A/N: Title means kept woman

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

It was certainly curious, a woman among the group of dwarves his guards had brought him- and a human woman at that. She stood out from the group like a sore thumb, yet she fit in with them all the same. They crowded around her legs as if to shield her from his gaze, to protect her from whatever he had in store for the trespassers.

“How fascinating, a woman in your midst. Tell me, king under the mountain, is she your bed warmer or just a lost creature you took pity on?” He sat forward on his throne of knotted wood, his crystal blue eyes focused on her, taking in every inch of her face. She showed no fear, nor any offence to his crudeness. The king smirked, she would do well.

The dwarves around her exploded, each attempting to insult him in not only the common tongue but in their native language as well. He paid them no mind, letting his gaze drift down to her body. She was at least modest, a large white shirt and dark trousers hid her away, disguising her curves quite well but he could still see the bulge of her hips and the softness of her stomach.

She was unlike any woman he had encountered before. Her eyes held the fire of a warrior, her hands were as stable as a healer’s, and the protective stance of a mother. “Take them away, but leave the girl. I believe she will tell us what we wish to know.” He spoke over their shoats, ignoring the way that they all reached for her as if their pathetic efforts could somehow save her.

Her fingers curled into her palm but otherwise gave him no reaction to suddenly being isolated. Gracefully, he stood to his full height, easily towering over the woman, casting a dark shadow over her as he approached. “Why do you travel with such… filth?” He crooned.

“I was hired to do so.” She answered simply, her voice strong. It carried through the throne room like a lone instrument in a concert hall and settled into his bones, marking them with the melodic tones of her words. A fire began to grow in his loins.

He took a step closer, she did not flinch. “I could offer you a place here, in my court. Certainly your skills and your beauty would be of more value here than on some fruitless journey that will only end in death.” As he drew closer, more of her perfect imperfections became clearer- her moles and birthmarks, scars and blemishes, but to him, they were simply an extra detail in the statuesque flawlessness of her figure.

“If it ends in death, then that will be how I die.” She retorted, lifting her head to meet his gaze once more as he was now only arm’s distance away. “I am human, death is not unknown to us.”

The side of Thranduil’s face burned with rage, reminding him of what he had lost to death all those many years ago. But that defiance, that drive so similar to that of his late wife, soothed the burn. “There are ways to cheat death, even for a human. But for now, it is my wish that you remain here until I decide how your quest shall continue.” With a flick of his slender wrist, he summoned two more guards.

They stood either side of her and began to lead her away. “You cannot stop fate, your highness.” She called, making him pause. The doors slammed closed behind her, leaving the great elven king to his thoughts.

——————

“I’m glad you joined me for dinner tonight.” He remarks while knowing that she had no choice. The Battle of The Five Armies had concluded months ago, Erebore was free and peace had finally settled over the land, yet Thranduil was still in the midst of his own war.

She refused his love. Isolating herself in the rooms he had so graciously given her, throwing away the luxurious food prepared fresh each day, even attempting to enact various escape attempts, but that had slowed significantly when she was moved to his own chambers and could be restrained each night in his arms.

Her silence irked him but he allowed it. “I wish that you would gain back some weight before the wedding.” She glared in response, merely sipping at her wine with her one free hand, the other bound to the ornate seat she was forced into. 

He sighed through his nose, hiding a smirk behind his own goblet. Her eyes fluttered shut as she drank the expensive liquor, savouring the sweet taste, unknowing that it was not the wine itself that gave the dark liquid its flavour. 

“Meletril.” (lover) He tuts, rising from his own chair to round the table. “Your hair is a mess. Let me fix it for you.” She was stiff as his slender fingers began to pick at her hair, delicately moving large strands into several braids. He worked quickly, the patterns and movements now an unconscious practice even if he had not practised in almost 1000 years.

“There, now I can properly see your pretty face.” His right hand cupped her full cheek, guiding her face upwards to him. Her eyes were now glassy, the potion he had snuck into her drink beginning to affect her, but her fire was still there, just existing as an ember now.

“This will not last, I will perish sooner or later and you will be left alone again.” She hissed, the bite in her tone significantly dulled. Yet Thranduil smiled and brushed her soft skin with his thumb before retreating back to his seat.

“Thorin sends his well-wishes, he is very excited about the wedding. And your little friend, what was his name, oh right! Bilbo, he will be journeying from the Shire with his nephew to attend.” Her nostrils flared with rage.

“Just kill me already! I am of no use to you other than a pet!” She cried, though her voice was beginning to slur as the magic took hold of her. 

The elven king slammed his hand on the table, immediately silencing her. “Enough! I have had enough of your silly rebellions and cruel words. You will be my wife simply because I love you. So no more silly speak of you being a pet, you are my equal, my queen but you obviously need to be reminded of your place. You are to never leave my side, death will not take you, I have made sure of that. Now eat.” Her eyes were now wide with panic, the truth finally settling in.

“What have you done?” Her skin began to glow as the transformation began. The king watched as all the indicators of her age were wiped away, the smile lines, the bags beneath her eyes, even scarring from the blemishes of puberty. She was ethereal, eternal now, just like him.

“I have changed your fate.”

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[enavstars]

Mermaid samurai (bet you didn't expect that) + doodles. Also this is my version of human Pixal.

Details of the AU under the cut:

The AU is set years ago in the era of pirates and there are sirens (I know I said mermaids but they're actually sirens). Cole, Jay, Zane and Pixal (Zane and Pixal are humans) are pirates; Kai and Nya are sirens and Lloyd is a hybrid.

First off, sirens. Sirens are predators who decieve and hunt humans using their melodic voice and appereance. Sometimes they eat the humans they've hunt down but most of the times they eat other fish. To decieve humans they can change the upper part of their bodies to look human; all sirens are intersex (each one with more masculine or feminine traits) so they can change into both male and female humans (Kai is usually a man and Nya a woman but they sometimes change). Sirens can form groups or hunt alone. Kai and Nya lost their parents when they were little and have been on their own since then, barely having any contact with other sirens. Most sirens have blue to green characteristics but sometimes there are ones with other colors like Kai; that's usually a disadvantage since it atracts other predators.

Kai doesn't like humans at all and usually fights other sea creatures (like sharks). He doesn't like deep waters either.

On the other hand, Nya is interested in humans, mostly their inventions and is really curious. Unlike Kai, she does like really deep waters. They're both very protective to each other and Lloyd.

Then, Zane and Pixal had an arranged wedding they didn't like (Gay and lesbian solidarity) so they decided to run away and join the pirates, the ones of the Destiny's bounty.

Cole is a member of the pirates and became one to find a treasure and get money for his village. He often feels bad because he couldn't afford his mother's medicine and he blames himself for her death.

Jay has been a pirate for the longest time. At first he just wanted the adventure but then he kind of regreted his decision (until he bonds with everyone). He's really skilled.

The captain of the Bounty is... an asshole so... mutiny(?) , eventually Cole will be the captain (because he is a good leader) and Jay the second in command.

As for Lloyd, he is a hybrid: Misako is human and Garmadon a siren. Wu and Garmadon are considered mythical creatures so Lloyd is basically unique. He lives in a small house next to the sea after Misako passed away. When he was a kid he had an encounter with Kai and Nya and, after a while, they became friends. Now Kai and Nya have adopted him as their little brother and go visit often. Lloyd treats their wounds as well as other sea creatures, he's a healer (vet?). Eventually he'll go with the Bounty's crew.

As for ships obviously plasma and samurai but also glacier.

Feel free to ask any questions about the AU and send ideas for drawings (though I can't promise to answer/draw everything).

[dawneternal]

The Benevolent | Eris x Healer OC | Four

☁︎ notes: these dummies are so smitten

☁︎ warnings: usual talk of injuries and Beron's abuse. Injured animal (he's okay though)

☁︎ word count: 2.2k

☁︎ AO3 Link / Masterlist

☁︎ tags: @cauldronblssd @teddyhoneybear @imma-too-many-fandoms @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @allyjoe755 @milswrites @shadowdaddies @zenkindoflove @landofpetrichor

The next summon interrupted Aya’s day off. Her promised day of nothingness; no lessons, no jobs, no meetings, and no Court dinners. She planned to curl up in a corner of the green house and read, surrounded by the scent of healing herbs and flowers. Until that infernal ring began to glow once more. She could not ignore it, but she could grumble to herself all she wanted about how talented the Heir of Autumn was at collecting near-death experiences. 

She was still silently complaining while she winnowed, while the world righted itself, and while Edana’s garden appeared before her eyes. What finally stopped the chain of complaints was the sight of Eris standing before her. 

Hands in his pockets, head tilted to the side, he smiled as her gaze met his. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled, eyes bright and unclouded by pain or alcohol. The sunlight gilded his copper hair and kissed every freckle. 

Aya found herself unable to remember what she had been thinking about. No memory of her difficult weeks, her reluctance to return to this land of cunning and deception. She was lost in his smile. Something in it made her feel like she knew everything and nothing all at once. 

Eris watched her eyes flick over his form, still struggling to focus after winnowing, and he took the time to study her in turn. Her height surprised him, the top of her head barely level with his shoulder. She had lovely curves, hugged by flowy, pastel fabrics as per the Dawn Court fashion. Her ears were lined with piercings, a gold ring with a gem dangling from her septum. Her wings were a soft glimmering gold dappled with darker brown, feathers rustling in the light breeze. She kept them tucked in tight to her body. And her eyes-

He thought of the sun rising, the blue fading into the orange and leaving that strange greyed-out tone in between. Somewhere in that softly painted sky was the color of her eyes. A brilliant silver, not quite blue, hints of orange. Purple in some lights. Somehow conveying all the loveliness of a misty dawn. Perhaps he had not appreciated the sunrise as much as he should in his five hundred and something years alive. 

In short, they spent entirely too long staring at each other. 

“At last, I meet my savior,” Eris broke the silence.

“I’d hardly call myself a savior,” Aya said, clutching her bag a little tighter. Her voice was as soft and melodic as he remembered from his dream. 

“You deserve countless thanks, nonetheless,” He smiled, and Aya admired the way his freckles moved and dipped to make way for his dimples. 

The crisp air combined with her thin clothes pulled a shiver from her. She had begun to wonder if he had called her there just to thank her when he swept an arm toward the door to Edana’s rooms. 

“One of my hounds is injured,” He said, his expression slipping into something more solemn, “I’m sure you’ll be glad to know it’s nothing serious. If you’ll follow me.” 

In the daylight, she could see more details of Edana’s rooms. The trim, doorways, and furniture were cut from the same dark wood as the rest of the Forest House, but the Lady had her walls painted light colors. Her decorations ventured outside of the familiar autumn color palette, a few daring shades of blue scattered throughout. 

Aya also noticed for the first time that the door to the stone hallway was different from the rest. Aside from being situated in a strange place, it was older, warped and scratched. It had been left slightly ajar, and she could see from its faint purple glow that it was enchanted. When the door was shut, it would disappear from the wall entirely. 

She followed him through the doorway, watching the fae-lights in the dim hall illuminate his muscled shoulders and well tailored shirt. As the ever present silence of the stone hallway wrapped around them, it finally hit her that they were alone. 

“This is a private passage?” She asked softly, “There’s never anyone here.”

“Yes,” He answered, his voice strangely tense, “It’s an old passageway either unknown or forgotten by my father.”

He did not elaborate and she did not pry any further. It bothered Eris that she had been here twice before and he had not been conscious of it. He had no idea what she had seen and heard and learned. Things he should have been there to shield her from, no doubt.

When she stepped through the doorway, Aya shivered, her wings ruffling. Eris’s brows knit together. He had never seen anyone react to wards that way before. He watched as she scanned the room and locked in on the hound laying on his bed, needing no instruction. When she approached, she offered him the back of her fist to sniff, and he seemed to have no qualms with her coming closer. She soothed him before moving to his wound, smoothing down his dark fur and massaging his ears, all the while murmuring kind words and praise. 

Eris almost smiled, wondering if she understood how ferocious that beast could be. He had seen the same dog with eyes hollow and hungry, blood dripping from his jaw. Not many would go near him. On his feet, he probably stood almost to her shoulder. And here she was, turning him to putty with her pets and kind words. His tail wagged as she spoke to him and he didn’t protest when she finally began to clean and dress his wound. 

“What happened?” Aya asked, eyes remaining focused on the work before her. He admired the dance of her hands, swift and coordinated. 

“He tumbled near the river bank, silly beast,” Eris answered. 

Aya noted the affection in his voice and the embroidered collar around the dog’s neck. A thought also prickled at the back of her mind that Eris was not telling her the real story. Why have her come all of this way if the cause was not something that Beron must not know? But it did not matter, because she wasn’t supposed to sleuth. 

“He has a name, doesn’t he?” She said instead, smiling. 

“Juno,” Eris admitted, a bit sheepishly. Embarrassment crept up the back of his neck, the feeling of being caught at something he tried to hide. Her smile was too knowing, she definitely recognized it as another figure from mythology. 

“I wish I could give you something to thank you properly,” He continued. 

“Well you did interrupt my day off,” She flashed a sly smirk, eyes still on her hands.

“Oh, did I?” His eyebrows raised, lips twitching up into a smile. Something sparked in his veins at her playful tone. “I suppose I’ll have to figure out something special then.”

“If you think that’s fair,” She let out an exaggerated sigh, eyes glittering. 

Eris was distracted by a golden glimmer, catching the light as she worked. It was the ring on her forefinger, a simple gold band that fit snug against her skin. His stomach dropped. 

“My mother bound you?” He whispered, and from his tone she could practically see the embers burning in his throat.. Aya paused and looked up at him, the color draining from his face. 

“Yes,” Her brows furrowed. She thought he would have known that. “Her contract seemed fair. I asked for a written copy.” 

A muscle twitched in his jaw and he said in that same quiet fury, “Will you please send me a copy?” 

“Of course,” Aya said, gaze still stuck on his as she searched his face for answers. It was almost too long before she turned back to the hound, who had begun to whine for her attention. The silence in the room had begun to squeeze.

“I understand that this situation is…delicate,” She continued after a moment, swallowing hard. It was always too quiet here, sounds of arguing and pain the only things to interrupt it. It was unnerving, like balancing a glass ball on each shoulder. 

“I wish she would not have dragged you into it,” He whispered through his teeth. He stood with his arms crossed, looking a little taller than before. This was closer to the image of the Heir she had heard stories about. Though he was certainly less intimidating since she had seen him drunk and smitten with a fictional angel. 

“I can handle it,” Aya said, giving Juno one last pat before rearranging the supplies in her worn leather satchel. 

“You shouldn’t have to.” 

She faced him, bag in hand, tilting her head back to look at him fully. Eris drew in a deep breath, trying not to stare at the reflection of the light on her long glossy curls, in her misty eyes.

“Thesan gave me a talisman,” She pulled up one sleeve to reveal a tattoo on her bicep. A stylized, swirling cloud. “It will give me protection against magic if your father tried to use any against me.” 

The sight of it did strange things to Eris’s heart. He felt the relief of her protection. She was not another liability, another piece on his chessboard that he must keep under his watch at all times. But there was another feeling there, too. Like he resented this thing that separated her from him. That ugly desire to control and protect everything he felt a fondness for reared its head. She belonged to the Dawn Court. She was Thesan’s creature. She may be Eris’s healer, bound to his mother by that horrible ring, but she was not his. She was not loyal to him. Unless she chose to be. And nobody ever chose Eris of their own accord. 

“Good,” Eris said, in another tone that Aya couldn’t read. 

“Oh,” She said, in an attempt to avoid another awkward lull, fishing a corked bottle of green tablets and holding it out to him. “Juno can have these for the pain. They’re mostly herbs so they’re very safe for him.” 

“You’re very kind,” Eris smiled, his voice softened by the kindness she had shown his beloved pet. It was, of course,  a risk to show any affection for his hounds. They were meant to be ruthless weapons. Just like the seven sons. 

“What are your mother’s guards names?” She asked suddenly, brows drawing together. 

“Why?” He swallowed an urge to reach out and smooth the wrinkles between her eyebrows with his thumb, swiping away whatever worried her just to see her smile again.

“I just think I should know. It seems to rude to refer to them as anything else. They’re not my guards.” 

So she must not know about Thesan’s order for Eris to protect her while she was present in the Autumn Court. He had extended that order to the guards. 

“The older one with dark hair is Caspian, and Asher is blond and bearded,” Eris answered. Aya nodded, and he could practically see her tucking the information away in her mind.

Against the dark wood and warm colors of his room, he thought she looked like a sparkling gemstone. Vibrant Amethyst among common stones. They watched each other in silence for the third time until, reluctantly, he led her back to the winnow spot and let her return to her world. 

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ 

The next morning, Aya was pulled from her sleep by a knock on the door. A courier waited on the other side with an envelope and package wrapped in brown paper and string. She thanked him and returned to her bed, holding the parcel in her lap. The paper and string fell forgotten to the floor as she opened it eagerly. 

Inside was a new leather satchel, the same shape and size as her old one. The sides and edges had been dyed a rich mulberry, the leather carved and tooled into an interlocking, curving design. The golden clasp, shaped like a leaf, gleamed in the morning sun. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of it, so lovely and new compared to the one she had carried daily for years now. The leather had been worn so thoroughly that it drooped and sagged.

Aya opened the bag, finding it lined with pockets and sections the perfect sizes for bandages and vials. There was also an envelope nestled inside, her name scrawled on the front in curly script. She opened it gingerly, planning to add the paper to the box of ephemera under her bed. Mail was a rare treat. 

Aya,

Thank you again for your help. Juno is doing much better and I suspect you have made a friend of him. I hope this gift will be of use to you.

As for retribution for your missed day off, you may also find that your instructors received a strongly worded letter from some anonymous busybody complaining about the state of cleanliness in the healer’s wing. I believe the buildings are being deep-cleaned over the next few days. Enjoy your long weekend. 

Eris

Aya buried her face in her hands, covering her silly, involuntary smile and burning cheeks. She finally bothered to open the other envelope, finding Eris to be truthful. The head of the school had sent a note announcing that classes had been canceled, though they did include a list of assignments to complete and log in the meantime. Assignments that she could complete in the greenhouse, between dozing off and basking in the sunshine the green, herbal scent. Somehow, against all the odds she battled with, Aya had made a friend.

[azrielslightintheshadows]

please do a part two of I fell for you it is amazing

I fell for you. (part 2)

Azriel x f!Reader x Eris

Masterlist.

Part 1

Warnings; mentions of sex.

Okay today I got so inspired and realized that I would let Eris destroy me anytime he wished to. Part 3 coming soon!

“I think our lessons are over, there’s nothing else I can teach you!” Helion exclaimed.

“So I’m ready?” You asked wide-eyed.

“Yes! I’m so proud of you” he hugged you.

It has been a year since you left Velaris, you went to the day court and asked Helion if he could take you in and help you improve your healing skills. He was a great friend and teacher and after a year you could say that you became the best healer anyone could have in their court. Helion was informing you about everything that was happening in the night court since you left. Turns out Rhysand wanted you all together that night to announce that him and Feyre were expecting. You felt happy for them and finally you didn’t have a bitter taste in your mouth. Nesta and Cassian got married and are trying for a baby and Elain accepted the bond between her and Lucien. Helion had a sad expression when he informed you about Azriel. The shadowsinger broke down and quit his duties in order to heal, he searched for you and thankfully Rhysand promised Helion not to say anything about your whereabouts. When the spymaster visited the day court Helion glamoured you and put a spell on your room so no one could enter. 

It broke your heart to hear his broken voice but you couldn’t go back. You couldn’t stay with him because of an ancient bond. You reconsidered everything in the time you spent here and decided that the mating bond was something meaningless, you now sought true love. Azriel left the next day and you didn’t hear from him again. 

A few days later a war broke out between the night and autumn court and Beron was killed by the hand of his son -Eris, who took his place as a high lord and thrived. Lucien and Elain moved to the Autumn court and became Eris’ advisors making the relationship between night and autumn stronger than ever. 

Life in prythian was peaceful again and things were moving forward. You finally mastered the method to hide the bond and it felt like it didn’t exist at all. 

“Y/n I received a letter from Eris… he needs a healer for his court and he asked me if I could spare him one. I think you will be great for the position.” Helion spoke when you entered his office. 

“But Lucien and Elain will be there… I don’t think I can be around her and I’m afraid that Lucien will tell Azriel that I’m there.” You said and started fidgeting.

“You can’t hide from him forever, you became so strong and independent this past year… I think you are ready to face him.” His face was filled with care and reassurance. 

“Okay…” you smiled. 

“Great I will send him our response and arrange some guards to escort you there.” Helion clapped and grabbed a piece of paper and a quill. 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You were currently standing in front of the gates of the Autumn court’s palace. After saying goodbye to Helion you hopped into the carriage and left the day court. When you reached the borders of the autumn court Helion’s guards left and the others Eris had sent replaced them. It wasn’t long until you made it to the palace. 

Eris walked out and you removed the hood of your cloak, you bowed your head and approached him. He made a tsk sound and smiled.

“Oh come on I’m not my father I don’t want people bowing to me” his voice was deep and melodic, filled with sinful promises that sent shivers down your spine. You had never seen him before, you had heard the inner circle talking about him but they never took you with them when they met with him. You didn’t expect him to be so handsome, his long red hair so smooth and shiny, his amber eyes filled with mischief and his sharp jaw making his face look like it was carved by all the gods new and forgotten. He was made out of sin and fire and you blushed as he noticed you were staring. 

“Enjoying the view?” He purred and you almost climaxed at the sound. You could swear that your face was redder than Cassian’s siphons but you were an entirely new female now so you gathered all your courage and replied.

“So what if I am?” 

He smirked, the mischief flashing brighter in his eyes.

“Oh I’m going to enjoy your company for sure” he purred again and gestured to follow him. 

You almost moaned at the sight of his strong back and broad shoulders, your mind creating images of him manhandling you, his muscles flexing and his eyes darkening. You shook your head and pushed the thoughts away hoping he wouldn’t smell your arousal. I have never laid with a male and my hormones are flipping that must be it. You tried to reassure yourself as Eris showed you your room. 

“This is your room and the one at the end of the hall is mine” he smirked and you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. 

“I think I got a sniff of your desire to get in my bed…” he chuckled and turned to leave. “I expect you to come to dinner tonight we have to talk about your duties” and with that he was gone. 

You were so screwed. This male would be the death of you. Everything about him made your knees tremble, power and arrogance were flowing out of him, his strong body was the definition of perfection. His scent was intoxicating making you desire him so much that you wondered if someone had casted a spell on you. Yeah completely screwed. 

 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 🍁 🍂 ☁️˙✧˖°

You decided to wear an auburn colored tight dress to honor your new high lord and you styled your hair in a high bun. You checked yourself in the mirror one last time and left the room feeling hot and confident. One of the servants guided you to the big dining room and hurried off somewhere. Eris was sitting at the head of the table with Lucien on his right side, Elain was sitting next to Lucien. They all looked at you the moment you entered and shock filled their faces. Lucien and Elain because they didn’t expect you to be there and Eris… his eyes were scanning your body, desire flashing in them as he noticed the color of your outfit and how well it looked on you. 

“Hello” you smiled and confidently walked to the seat on Eris’ left side. You sat next to him and let your leg brush against his thigh. Your eyes challenging him. Yeah you will enjoy my company. You thought.

“Uhm y/n….Uhm hi… what are you doing here?” Elain gave you a tight smile. 

“Oh you didn’t expect to see me again right? Well after I left the night court because you were screwing my mate” Lucien gaped at you, -his shocked expression confirming your suspicions that he didn’t know- and Eris snorted, amusement filling his features. 

“I improved my healing skills with Helion’s help and now I’m going to stay here as the Autumn court’s healer” you smiled sweetly and sipped your wine. Elain was red from embarrassment and Lucien paled. 

“You were fucking shadowboy?” Eris smirked.

“I…” she was squirming in her seat and with a sigh she looked at Lucien “yes… but we ended things before I accepted the bond. I didn’t cheat on you” 

Eris burst into laughter, throwing his head back and clapping. 

“Oh this is so good.” He said gesturing to Lucien’s face. “Come on brother don’t be so boring ask her…” he said between fits of laughter. 

“Who screws better my brother or the shadowsinger?” He continued, disappointed by his brother’s silence. 

You almost choked on your wine and tried to stifle a giggle. Eris noticed and placed his hand on your thigh squeezing. 

“You can laugh it’s okay” he smiled at you and turned his attention back to Elain. Your skin was burning and even though he removed his hand you could still feel his warmth there.

“Excuse me” she whispered and ran away.

Lucien let out a sigh and got up. 

“I know that she hurt you, she hurt me too but please, I finally managed to come back home, be nice to her… I don’t want to leave again.” 

“Okay, I won’t mention it again” you shrugged and Lucien sent you a thankful smile before disappearing.

“Well that was fun” Eris chuckled and started eating.

“I know” you giggled and picked your fork again. 

 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 🍁 🍂 ☁️˙✧˖°

Morning found you in the main room sitting on a sofa with your legs on Eris’ lap laughing and drinking wine. 

Your sober self would never place your legs on the high lord’s lap but the wine was in control and you felt so comfortable around him. He didn’t seem to mind, he was massaging your calves and talking about everything that happened during the war. You were amazed by how he could turn a horror story into a comedy with just a few remarks here and there. 

“Is that the sun?” You asked as you glanced outside. 

“No it’s the beauty I’m emitting... lighting up the whole court” he chuckled and you threw a pillow at him. 

“We have to get some sleep” you groaned.

“Are you inviting me to your bed little fox?” Eris purred and your eyes widened.

“No” you exclaimed and quickly stood up. He laughed at your embarrassment and raised himself from his seat. 

“Let’s go” he offered you his hand and escorted you to your bedroom. 

“Get some rest little fox, you will need it” he winked and left. 

The moment your head touched the pillow you fell asleep, dreaming of Eris and his court. 

 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 🍁 🍂 ☁️˙✧˖°

It was afternoon when you woke up again because someone was knocking on your door, with a groan you got up and went to the door. Your head felt like it was going to explode and your stomach was turning. You opened the door and one of the maids smiled at you. 

“High Lord Eris has requested you to his office” 

“Okay give me a few minutes” you murmured and shut the door. You looked like a mess. You quickly entered the bathroom and splashed some water on your face before hurriedly opening the closet to find something to wear. 

You picked a loose beige dress that reached mid-thigh and changed. You fixed your hair as much as you could and left your room. The maid was patiently waiting for you and smiled politely before walking down the hall. You followed her. 

“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting, I just woke up and I needed some time to fix myself” you said. She glanced at you with a smile.

“Don’t worry about it my lady. You look beautiful” 

“Thank you” you blushed and stopped next to her as you reached a big wooden door. 

She quickly bowed her head and left. 

You knocked on the door and Eris’ deep voice filled the silence

“come in” .

With a deep breath you walked inside. He looked so powerful behind the big desk, his arrogant smirk plastered on his face and his big palms resting on the desk. 

“You requested to see me” you said and took a seat in front of him. 

“Yes… it seems that you are quite distracting little fox and I forgot to mention your duties last night” you shivered at the nickname. You nodded for him to continue.

“So, I already have a healer for my army… I brought you here because I needed a healer for me and my family, I can’t risk our health just because the healer didn’t have time to get here. So, you will stay in the palace, all your expenses will be covered by me. That’s the position I’m offering you” he looked formal and you blinked. You only saw his playful side since you arrived and this shocked you. Being the high lord fitted him very well.

“Uhm okay, you are being very generous” you cleared your throat.

“I take my family’s health seriously so of course I will be generous” he smiled. 

“Okay, well I accept the offer” you shrugged and smiled back at him.

“Perfect! You can go I have some work to do, dinner will be served soon.” 

“You’re not coming?” You asked a bit disappointed. 

“No, I’m too busy because someone kept me up all night” he winked. “But I’m sure my brother, his mate and my mother will be a great company” 

You blushed and nodded. With a quick goodbye you left his office. 

 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 🍁 🍂 ☁️˙✧˖°

Dinner went well that night and you and the lady autumn seemed to enjoy each other’s company very much. You spent the rest of the days with her, going out and strolling around the garden. Sometimes you would stay inside and she would teach you how to cook or knit. She was a very calm female and made you feel comfortable and like you could fit into her house.

Eris joined you a few times, he enjoyed seeing you and his mother getting along so well. 

One day as you were sitting on a bench with his mother enjoying the view of the garden she said;

“You know… I would love if you and Eris ended up together, you’re so sweet and kind, my son would be lucky to have you.” She smiled and you almost choked on air. You and Eris… you had thought about that but you weren’t sure if he had this type of feelings towards you. Lust wasn’t enough for someone to get married. And what would happen if Azriel found out? 

What do you think? Would you like me to continue this? Also which one do you prefer for our reader Eris or Azriel?

Requests are open!

@kalulakunundrum @amysangel

[ranaissingle]

Whispers and Melodies

(Rhysand X Reader)

Summary: She has heard a deep melodic voice speaking to her from a far away place for decades. Anything from snippets of a longer conversation to roars that shook the very earth she walked on.

Rating: T (for now)

A cup of tea sat cooling on the window sill of a small cottage on the outskirts of the Day Court. The quaint home overlooked a large river delta with roiling waters whose waves flowed into an ocean only a stone's throw away. Inside the cottage sat a girl gazing into the night sky while she forgot all of the day's troubles. 

The healer had spent the entire day tending to patients from the village near her cottage. It was a quaint town whose community was close-knit and small. It had taken the townspeople a while to grow accustomed to me but as the years had come and gone, they had opened up to each other. Her skills as a healer also aided in this endeavor. But despite how much she enjoyed her dealings with the townspeople, her favorite part of her job was the research that it allowed. At the end of a hard day of treating her patients, she could lock herself up in her office and lose herself in the formulas and ratios she tested in her compounds. 

Y/N padded over to her small kitchen, mug in hand, and placed it into her sink before walking toward her research room and locking the door behind her.

She always thought of her research room as a safe haven. The vials full of various substances that she had been testing littered her desk along with her carefully taken notes about the contents and phase changes of each substance on her log book. Her most recent project had been to synthesize some type of blood clotting or replenishing potion that would allow her to administer it to a patient who was more likely to die of blood loss before she even had the chance to solve any of their injuries. A potion like this would allow her ample time to stitch up any wound or brew some other cure for poisons and the like. 

Her current issue consisted of not being able to stabilize the potion for long-term storage. The fennel root and crushed carrowfish shell she’d added seemed to be slowly decomposing each other which made the potion essentially useless after more than 4 days of storage. The trials she was running right now attempted to add some honey which slowed the reaction process as well as introduced some antimicrobial properties to the potion. 

Y/N quickly jotted down the physical changes in appearance and consistency of each of the test tubes with varying amounts of honey. Each testing glass contained more honey than the last. Whichever combination yielded the best preservation and overall effectiveness is the ratio that she would begin perfecting. 

Y/N stayed in her laboratory until she felt her eyes begin to strain and her feet start to ache. She carefully placed all of her measuring tools and weights back onto her working table before she exited the room and made her way to the front door of her cottage. She undid all 3 locks and tugged the large oak door open with both her hands. 

In the distance, she saw a figure. A male it seemed; lying on the ground as the ocean lapped at his skin and crusted it in dried salt. The setting sun gleamed against him and warmed his pale skin in a sheen of gold that she thought suited him much more than the sickly pallor he seemed to have. Most people tended to steer clear of her section of the beach out of some deeply engrained paranoia of outsiders. But this male seemed to have missed that particular message.

Rhysand had known he had been fooled the moment he stepped into the ballroom on that fateful day. Amaranth had promised a ball in celebration of the many alliances she had made as well as an apology to those she had wronged. Rhysand had gone to the ball purely for formalities' sake. He had always loathed these types of false pretenses that the upper echelon of fae had always insisted on perpetuating. Nonetheless, he had dragged himself out of his court that afternoon and appeared at this ball. His own cowardice to refuse Amarantha’s invitation had resulted in 50 years of extortion, rape, and violence that despite his centuries of experience, he could not seem to shake the black cloud that it had cast over him. 

Feyre being his mate was not something he had seen coming nor was it something he wanted. Tamlin would treat her well, she cared for all of his people and he would care for Feyre Rhys was sure. Despite his freedom, Rhysand could not bring himself to go to his home in Velaris. His family was likely waiting for him to return but they would all know exactly what had happened to him as soon as he stepped in the door. He did not wish to deal with their horrified faces and pitying looks once they found out. So instead, he wandered. 

He wandered around lands both Night Court and Day. He walked and flew so far that he ended up somewhere on a coastline. Rhys has no idea where he had landed but he didn't seem to care that he was likely lost. So as the sun set, he continued a slow walk along the cliffside coast and eventually down onto the sandy beaches. The sun sunk further into the horizon leaving only the gleaming light of a cottage in the far-off distance. As Rhys drew closer, he noticed a crop garden with some vegetables and herbs growing on the plot off to the side of the house and a water well located up a hill. Rhysand was tired. He was tired of walking, of flying, of breathing even. He just wanted to rest. He wanted to sleep on a soft bed and not have to think about anything at all, not be worried that one wrong move would result in the death of everyone he had ever loved. So he made his way closer to the cottage before sitting on the wet sand closest to the water and stretching out his long legs. The water lapped at his feet and calves, almost as if it was slowly pulling away all the tension that wound itself in his legs. He stared out at the ocean for what seemed like an eternity. Rhysand got lost in the repetitive movements of the water and the slowly setting sun in the distance casting beautiful colors on the waters and sand. 

When he eventually woke up from what felt like an eternity of slumber, he was not nestled in the sand as he had expected. Instead, he was cushioned underneath with quilts and pillows, and on top of him lay thick blankets to combat the morning chill that often accompanied this time of the year. The room itself looked lived in, to say the least. Canvas’ and embroidery projects were pinned to the wall in various positions. Everything from people to landscaping were inscribed into the wall. Pages that appeared to be ripped out of books with certain lines underlined also adorned the cedarwood walls. The entire room smelled of something woody and calm that Rhysand couldn't quite a place. He stretched up from his lying position and slowly removed the layers of quilts and blankets from him. His legs felt sore and ached from the hours of walking he had done the day before. He tried to stretch his wing muscles but they also ached from their overuse. He hadn't flown in decades, yet he had taken to the sky’s as soon as he could as if he had never left the great blue expanse. He now felt his lack of practice as he tried to rotate his shoulders and ease the aches that had rooted themselves in his back. 

A shuffle from outside the door had Rhysand snapping his neck towards the door. He slowly lifted himself off the bed, careful to make sure none of the wooden beams snapped. He paced towards the door and stuck his ear against the wood grain to listen for any further movements. He was listening to the slicing of metal that would indicate a weapon the characteristic heavy footfalls that usually indicated a warrior of some capacity. Instead, he heard sharp cutting noises blunted by a wooden board, the shuffle of lithe feet, and the soft humming of a female. 

Hello everyone! It has been too long! So many things have happened in the last months and I can't wait to get back into the groove of posting multiple-part stories.

[coyoteclan]

There are 330 following this blog now HI

Thought I'd share some territory concepts I've been working on! Both for Coyoteclan and a second clangen blog I've been debating, which is set in the wild west :)

I'll write a little blurb for each little area under the cut for those curious about these locations (and separate images)

Coyoteclan

Fallen-Tree Coyoteclan's Leader den and clan meeting place. The tree is ancient and hollow, the entrance coated in the scratches of long-gone cats. The Leader calls meetings from atop the tree, while the deputy sits on the rocks below.

Thunder River A small collection of waterfalls that eventually lead to the sea. From here, you can hear an ominous, melodic sound coming from the beach.

Graves of the Fallen The resting place for Coyoteclan cats. Coyoteclan prefer to commune with their dead here, but still go with the other healers during halfmoon.

Sweetwater Wilds

Trail of Blood Untamed land filled with bandits and danger. Not only are there plenty of predatory animals living here, but it's a popular hiding place for many outlaws.

Canyon of Stars A place for communing with the stars. Sheriffs and Healers visit often for guidance, though some bandits are known to come here in secret.

Hareshade's Dawn Not really a place but this is the Sheriff of Sweetwater Wilds lol I really like her but she's SO TRANSPHOBIC she is BULLYING the only trans cat in the clan and I cannot stop her

[queen--of--shadows]

Healing Shadows: Part 7

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Reader is a gifted surgical healer and water bender. Rhysand needs her help when he finds out about Feyre’s risky pregnancy. Azriel finds out reader is his mate.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2,916

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

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

Part 7: Mate

It was the morning of Solstice. Azriel paced around his room, unable to sleep all night, unable to get you out of his mind.

From the moment Rhys introduced you to him before Feyre’s surgery, you seized every waking moment of Azriel’s life. He couldn’t even blink or sleep without you consuming his thoughts. He took any opportunity to be around you, brush his fingers against yours, his ruined hands aching to run over every inch and curve of your body.

Azriel had a suspicion as soon as you walked into the House that you were his mate. His shadows were annoyingly obsessed with you, always finding an excuse to swarm in your direction, and it took everything in his power to keep them leashed under his command. He and his shadows were entranced by you, and although he knew he should keep his distance, he couldn’t help himself as he kept finding reasons to be near you, talk to you, touch you.

But he knew better than to get his hopes up. Cassian and Rhys—they were deserving, more than deserving of mates. They were honorable, gentle, kind, strong. His brothers were the most noble and fiercely loyal men he had known his entire life. Azriel wished he could say the same about himself. His self-hatred ran deep, feeling no better than bastard-born murderous scum. He did nothing right to deserve someone like you in his life, and the Mother knew it. He had always wished for a mate, the desire becoming all-consuming when Feyre and Nesta came around. He was happy for his brothers but couldn’t contain the jealousy that would eat away at him in his loneliness.

And then you showed up, like a gift from the Gods, with your bright sparkling eyes, sweet honey-jasmine scent, the melodic sound of your laugh that skittered along his bones.

All night, he replayed his failed attempt at impressing you yesterday with a surprise flight when you returned from town with your shopping bags in tow. He thought the gesture was sweet, and he was delighted to be the first one to take you flying, but your grumbling had Azriel reeling all night.

He knew what you were thinking: that something was going on between him and Elain. He wanted so badly to explain that there was nothing; he simply had to play nice with his brother’s sister-in-law, per Rhys’s commands. Everyone knew Elain had been pining over him since they first met in the mortal realms, but Rhys didn’t want to risk any tensions between Feyre’s sisters, already traumatized from dealing with Nesta’s backlash after she was Made. Azriel had no choice but to keep the peace, even if it meant never setting that boundary with Elain. He knew it was wrong and that he should just be honest with her, but he was afraid of causing any disturbance with the sensitive female. He was caught now between placating Elain and allowing a misrepresented image of himself in your perspective, worsening by the day as Elain constantly barged into your private moments with him. Az cursed himself, but today would be the day. He would end everything with Elain on Solstice and confess his true feelings to you.

He left for town right before you, hoping to “casually” run into you in one of the stores or strolling through the streets, tracking your scent from shop to shop. Your gift was the last one he had to pick up. He knew the second he saw that they were perfect: soft black leather gloves, lined with fur on the inside to keep your hands warm during training in the morning, with the very tip of the fingers cut out so you could still waterbend and feel connected to the fluids as you trained. Azriel knew how much you hated the cold, evident from your adorably grumpy face and shivering body every morning when Cassian would drag you out to the roof. He wanted to wrap you in his arms and keep you warm, but for now, the gloves would do. Wrapping the gift carefully, he left it at the bottom of the stack of presents so it would be the last one you opened.

The guilt ate Azriel alive as he watched you try and fail to become friends with Elain. His heart sank as he watched her disregard your gift, throwing it towards her pile as if it were trash. It was his fault this was happening, and you were suffering the consequences. That was when he decided things had to change. He couldn’t stand the disappointment on your face.

He figured you would get everyone a gift since it was your first Solstice with the Inner Circle, but was still giddy with joy as he opened yours in the comfort and privacy of his room. It took him less than a few seconds to pick your gift out from the rest, his shadows circling it incessantly until he found it. He unwrapped the small package quickly, hating the contrast of his marred hands against your perfect wrapping. Finding the perfect place on his desk to set the mug, right within his view, it would be the first thing he saw when he woke up and the last before going to sleep.

Sleep that escaped him so often these days, just like tonight.

It was Solstice, and he wouldn’t let another day go to waste. He needed to make things right.

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

Gods damn it, Mor, Azriel thought to himself while getting dressed for Rita’s. He wanted a moment alone with you so he could explain everything: that he didn’t care about Elain and knew how bad it looked, how he had been wanting to explain himself, to now give you the chance to get to know him and who he is behind the mask of the Night Court’s Spymaster.

But of course, Mor suggested Rita’s, and it was Feyre’s birthday. He had to go.

He tried his best to impress you, donning an all-black ensemble, cut perfectly to fit the strong, hard planes of his body and showcase the Illyrian tattoos swirling over his muscled chest. But then you emerged from Mor’s room, and he felt like absolutely nothing compared to you. You took his breath away, looking like a dream in the flowy blue dress, matching the color of his siphons. It took every ounce of Azriel’s control to refrain from tackling Cassian to the ground when he saw his brother twirling you around, your laughter like a salve that healed every wound in his heart.

But the night only plummeted downhill from there.

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

“Hi, Az,” Elain started sweetly with a wide grin, looping her arm through Azriel’s. “Ready for a fun night?” she asked, batting her lashes as she looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, and Azriel knew without her asking that he would have to be the one to fly her in. Like always. With a deep sigh, he nodded and scooped her up, Elain’s fingers playing with the silky strands at the base of his neck.

Get your hands out of my hair, he wanted to spit at her.

Rita’s was packed and vibrating with loud music, and Azriel wanted nothing more than to snatch you from the crowd and take you home. He couldn’t help the lump in the back of his throat that formed at Mor’s toast, raising his glass ever-so-slightly higher at your name. Even though it hadn’t been long since you entered his life, Azriel’s chest swelled with pride at your progress as a healer and waterbender. You overcame so much in your short time at the House, tackling your weaknesses one by one. He hoped you could feel the genuine love and adoration in Mor’s words; they were reflective of how everyone felt about you, not just him.

Azriel wasn’t one for dancing, so he returned to the table where he knew Elain would be waiting for him, legs crossed and leaning back in the booth, giving the seat next to hers a pat, an invitation for him to join her. Thank Gods Gwyn was there this time, too. The perfect buffer. And he knew by the look on Elain’s face she wasn’t pleased about it.

Azriel tried his best not to stare as he watched you mingle and drink and dance, tried not to let his wrath unleash as he saw his friends take turns with you: Mor, Nesta, Cassian.

But then he saw the way you looked at Lucien.

Saw Lucien make his way through the crowd towards you, drinking from your glass before you grabbed him by the collar and whispered in his ear.

No fucking way.

There was no way that you were interested in that egotistical snarky fox boy. Azriel loathed the entirety of the Autumn Court, including Lucien. He didn’t care if he was Helion’s son, and especially didn’t care now that Lucien had a hand around your waist. Even Elain went rigid next to him, a low growl escaping her lips that Azriel barely registered as—

Right then—it hit him.

Azriel couldn’t breathe. The pounding of his heart rang in his ears.

No no no no no

His mouth remained slightly parted as he stared you down, the entire world melting away into a blur of darkness, as he watched a tiny gold thread unravel itself, straight from his chest to yours. You danced and danced, twirling and spinning with your eyes closed, smiling wide, singing along to the music, your hair billowing around you as if you were underwater, skin glowing with the light of a million stars. Azriel had never seen a more beautiful sight. Tears lined his eyes, and he didn’t even realize he had gotten out of his seat, hand almost stretched out as if he could touch you from where he stood.

And then the world came back into focus, and all he could see was Nesta’s hands on you, Lucien’s hands on you, everyone’s fucking hands on you.

He was going to throw up.

Anger roiled through every single vein and he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs. Azriel saw red as his shadows began swarming around his neck in a frenzy. Mate mate mate they chanted, over and over, louder and louder. His lip curled back in disgust, baring his teeth with a low, feral snarl.

Elain said with a cool, delicate hand on his forearm, feigning innocence as if she wasn’t aware of what was happening, “Az, is everything okay? You seem tense.”

Azriel whipped his head towards her, anger and rage sparking in a frenzy in those deep hazel eyes. Elain’s eyes widened as she recoiled from his arm. Gone was the cool calm mask of the Spymaster. Cassian, sauntering over to the table with a round of shots, grabbed Azriel by the shoulder, ready to drink with his brother when he saw the look on his face and nearly dropped the glasses in his hand.

“Az, what’s wrong?”

Azriel ripped Cassian’s hand off of him. “She’s my mate, and Lucien’s got his filthy fucking hands all over her,” he seethed. Wrath and grief rolled off of him in near-palpable waves, and his serpentine shadows wreathed around his neck, ready to strike and attack: the portrait of a Prince of Darkness.

Snapped out of his drunken stupor, Cassian gaped at his brother, then at you, then back at his brother. Before he could think, Azriel’s feet were already carrying him to you. He couldn’t help it, he had to rip Lucien off of you. But when he saw the way you rolled your eyes at him as if he wasn’t even worth the dirt under your feet, as if he was nothing, his heart cracked in two. That golden thread shone brighter than ever, but… With the way you ignored him and kept dancing with Lucien, he knew that you didn’t know. The bond hadn’t clicked in for you yet. Cassian made his way through the crowd, making sure to avoid any hassle with Lucien, and winnowed you home. Azriel took to the skies to release his anger.

Mate. He had a mate. He had never even dared to dream of this day, the day he would meet his match, his equal, his Cauldron-blessed mate. All for it to end up like this. Had Cassian not intervened, you would’ve gone home with Lucien. Let him ravish and worship your body in the way that Azriel had been dreaming of since the moment he laid eyes on you. The thought made him blind with rage.

He landed on the balcony of the House with a loud thud, pacing back and forth to cool off. He had to check, had to make sure Lucien didn’t somehow slither his way into the House. He knew it was impossible, but… still.

He first sent his shadows toward your room to confirm. Safe safe safe, they whispered menacingly in his ear. Cracking open the bedroom door, he peered in and dropped his head in relief. You were alone, sprawled out on your bed, snoring softly. Azriel couldn’t help the small smile that graced his face, the first one all night. With a deep sigh, he walked silently over to you, covering you with a blanket. Az allowed himself to drink in the sight of you, sleeping peacefully and deeply, before winnowing into his room. He sat on the edge of his bed, head dangling in defeat. He had a plan, he was going to tell you everything tonight. But he ruined it. All because he couldn’t put his foot down with himself, with Rhys, with Elain. His shadows swirled frantically around his ankles, wrists, and neck, begging him to go be with you. Az didn’t have the energy to contain them anymore and let them find their way to you.

He hadn’t even realized how late it was, the low light of the early morning now peaking through his bedroom curtains. Fuck. It was already time for training. He took a quick bath, scrubbing himself in the scalding hot water to get rid of any trace of his shitty night. The tugging of the bond was intolerable. Please, it begged, please tell her. All he wanted was to grab your sleeping body and carry you into his bed, the safety of his arms where he knew no one would be able to touch you. How did Rhys last so long with Feyre in the Spring Court? he thought, unable to stand another second of you not being his.

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

The chill winter morning air bit at his skin while he waited for Cassian and Nesta to join him on the roof. But to Azriel’s surprise, Rhys and Feyre showed up before anyone else.

“Az, is everything alright?” Despite perfecting his unreadable Spymaster mask, Feyre had gotten to know the small changes in Azriel’s demeanor over the years and could tell when something was bothering him.

“She’s my mate,” he whispered with a tired, distant look, one arm crossed over his chest, the other mindlessly tugging at his black stud earring. Rhys and Feyre didn’t need further details. They shared a panicked look, and Rhys quickly said, “Maybe it’s best if you sit out this training, then.” But before Az could answer, a bright flash of sunlight lit up the roof as Helion and Lucien appeared in the training ring. The High Lord of the Day Court sat atop a beautiful pegasus, its silky golden coat, mimicking the crown resting on Helion’s head, glowing in the morning sun.

No fucking way. Not again.

Az threw Rhys an incredulous look, one mixed with rage. Truth Teller was in his hand in an instant, angled with lethality, and in response, Helion let out a deep, seductive laugh. “Now, now, my beautiful wicked Shadowsinger. We come in peace. Our dearest Lord of Night has asked Lucien to help train Y/N with her waterbending. He is her opposite and will use his fire so she can begin her combative training against other skills. Unless, of course, you want to play with her and your shadows, a sight I would pay good money to delight in,” Helion said with a dazzling grin. Azriel’s lip curled back as he glared at Lucien, who simply held up his hands with a smirk. He would rip that smile right off his stupid fucking mouth.

“Rhys, you have to be fucking kidding me. Find someone else, anyone else except this asshole,” he seethed with stone-cold fury. Rhys pulled him aside, away from the group, as Cassian, Nesta, and Elain made their way outside.

“Please, Az. I’m sorry, I didn’t know, but Lucien and Helion are here now and graciously accepted my request to train with her. It’s going to be fine, I told Lucien to take it easy. Trust me, I know how it feels. But after training today, you can be honest with her. I won’t force you to keep worrying about Elain’s feelings. Feyre and I will deal with that. It’s time she gives her own mate a chance, anway” he said, glancing sidelong at Lucien. “We will convince her today to go spend some time in the Day Court.” Rhys offered a sympathetic look, which did nothing to calm the icy rage that exploded repeatedly in Azriel’s chest. He didn’t say another word as you finally stalked over to the edge of the ring, eyes wide.​

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

taglist: @cute-baby-ducks @brekkershadowsinger @iangelofmusic @j-pendragonx @foggypeanutmongeroaf @nxrvto @luckypersonmentality @eddiesbixch696 @davinaclaire16 @lexie1o9 @thewarriormoon @halfmeltedcandles @cartoonnerdgirl @wrensical003 @sparksandthorns @abigailrose98 @mrs-azriel @cafe-inaaa @sparklymiraclecheesecake @moonlightazriel @caosfanblr

[wh0refornikolailantsov]

hey could you please do something for poly helnik and a grisha healer reader who has chronic pain and is having a bad day? (romantic relationship if your okay with it, nina and reader grew up together in the little palace)

As someone who is chronically ill and currently having a bad time with their flare up, this request couldnt be better timed, I need this

Bedside Manner Isn't My Strong Suit, But I'll Try For You - Nina Zenik, Matthias Helvar

Content Warnings: Poly!Helnik x Chronically Ill Healer Reader. Discussions Of Illness, Poor Health. This One Became Rather Self Indulgent And I Will Not Apologize For That. Probably Explicit Language Knowing What I Am Like. Not Beta/Proof Read.

It was the wince that gave you away, you really didn't mean to. The thing about being chronically ill, is that you are so used to what would normally be crippling amounts of pain for other people, that you start to drown out a lot of pain signals. When you are in pain every moment, pain becomes normal to you, it doesn't make it hurt less, but you can live with a lot of pain and discomfort if you have no other choice. And after a while you can become numb to your bodies warning signals, especially when you don't want to acknowledge it. So when you move and the jolt of pain is so noticeable, even by your own pain standards, even on top of all the daily pain that you've been long saddled with, you wince. And Nina doesn't miss a beat.

"Sit down," she says almost a little too fiercely, but her eyes are so filled with concern that you could forgive her any tone right now.

"Love, it's nothing," you try. But the pain swells around in your nerves and you lose your sight for a moment and before you can really argue your case anymore, Nina is helping you back into a sitting position.

"You've been doing too much," she tells you, her voice melodic and soothing as she pulls a blanket up from the bed and wraps it over the two of you. She learned long ago it's much easier to get you to let others care for you, if that care isn't distancing. So she curls up on the soft seat with you, and lets the blanket fall over her own shoulders.

"I've been doing as much as I normally do," you argue. Nina gives you a gentle tap on the tip of your nose.

"And sometimes the limit is different," she reminds you, "you and I both know that." You learned in the early years of knowing Nina, training side by side at The Little Palace, that it was no easy task to pull the wool over her eyes. She learned your tells and your mannerisms as closely as she knew how, and most days she was able to read your needs better than you. It didn't help you were prone to ignoring yours. You had argued over and over, that this world wasn't forgiving to those who let themselves fall behind, but Nina wouldn't have it, not then, not when you were just kids, and certainly not now.

"I do not want to waste the day," you try, but she shushes you with a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"Are you saying a day cosied up with me is a day wasted?" she quips. You give her a playful glare but she does not let up.

"No moment spent with you could ever be wasted," you tell her.

"Good, then we are not wasting a day, I am looking after you, and you are letting me," she tells you. You'd never had it in your heart to deny Nina anything, why would you start now?

You had often thought it a bitter irony that you were born a healer, that you had the ability to help others, take their pain away, ease their suffering, when you were bound to suffering yourself, with no way to help yourself. But you'd given up trying to reason with the saints about it years ago. It was a pointless and one sided argument, so you just decided it was better to focus on what you could. So you focused on your life, on Nina, on Matthias, on what you could control.

"You do not want to spend the day curled up with me," you realise how it sounds at it leaves your mouth but you don't let it deter you, "you have more interesting things to be doing, Nina, I am fine-,"

"I love you," she says.

"I know-,"

"I love you," she repeats.

"Nina," you sigh.

"I love you," she says again. She will say it over and over until you relent, she does not want to dismiss your feelings anymore than she wishes to hurt them, but she will not argue with you about taking care of you. She will not argue with you over what she is willing and wanting to do. She will not argue with you over this.

"I love you," you say in return.

"Even when I am injured," she says.

"Nina..." you try.

"Even when I am injured?" she asks.

"Even when you're injured," you tell her.

"Even when I am tired?" she asks.

"Even when you're tired."

"Even when I am grumpy?"

"Even when your hungry," you reply. Nina gives you a gentle jab in the shoulder, but she is smiling.

"I said grumpy," she says. You blink at her, faking confusion.

"That's the same word darling," you tell her. She leans in and presses a kiss to the tip of your nose.

"So why is it so hard to understand that I love you, and I want to be here with you?" she asks.

"I know you love me," you tell her, it may have taken convincing, it may take reminding, but after enough time she has managed to get that idea stuck inside your head in a way that it won't easily worm out. "I just mean there must be things you'd rather be doing than taking care of me."

"Not a one," she tells you, pulling you in to hold you closer. "Not a single one."

You're both half asleep when Matthias comes back. Your head resting on Nina's shoulder as she subconsciously draws loops across your skin with her fingers, trying her best to ease the pain she knows you're feeling. It barely touches the edges, but you feel it, and you know it is from love that she tries despite the futility, and you take a type of comfort in that. "Matthias," your voice comes out as a whisper.

"Been too strong today?" Matthias asks, knowing very well this trap of Nina's, the hug and blanket that is more of a mandatory bedrest than a subtle attempt to get you to rest.

"You wince one time," you say. If you're honest, if you're really honest, you feel bad, you feel all types of bad, your body feels brittle, every nerves either burns or aches and the throbbing pain won't go away, but you try to drown it out. It's nothing you've not felt before, and you will likely feel again.

Matthias leans down and presses a kiss to the top of your head, and then one to Nina's. "Rest," he tells you, a little gruff but his lips twitching into a smile.

"How am I supposed to sleep when my bones feel like they're snapping under the pressure of my skin?" you ask honestly.

"With a warm drink and a kiss?" he offers. You smile, it doesn't fix you, nothing can unburden the pain set deep in your bones, but they've never once tried to fix you. They've just sat with you in the storm, and waited it out with you. They never once tried to fix you, they just loved you anyway. They love you not in spite of but regardless. They cannot take the pain away, but being around them brings you a peace you had never known before and you never dreamed of having, and that is more than enough.

"I like the sound of that," you tell him. He smiles.

"Then that is exactly what you shall get."

[focusandthefuries]

The Unspoken Journey of The Northman and The Mad Woman: Chapter 2

What is he doing here?

Do not trust him.

You must be cautious, Senua.

You must!

Senua’s eyes grew wide as she peered up at the Northman, confused at his presence. She hesitantly lowered the iron she was using to stoke the fire she had built, but she did not drop it completely. “Thórgestr…” she trailed off, not quite knowing what to say.

He noticed her shock instantly, and felt guilty at the fright he had given her. Was he truly so terrifying that the mere sight of him was enough to take away her comfort? He took a step back.

“Fargrimr told me I was to stay here, so we may discuss what is to come. Did he not discuss that with you?” His voice too trailed off.

He is lying!

Do not trust him.

But what if he isn’t?

Why would he lie?

“I am sorry. I shall go.” Thórgestr turned to leave, not wishing to cause her any more discomfort and wishing greatly to show Fargrimr what his fist tasted like. However, the injury on his leg betrayed him and instead of outside, he found himself collapsed onto the floor of the hut. No words could escape his mouth, only a series of pained breaths.

There was a loud clang when the iron fell from Senua’s grasp. She had moved to him with an urgency she did not know she possessed. Her hand reached to cover his. She squeezed them before prying them away from his wound. “Let me see.” She spoke softly, though it was clear her words were a demand. Thórgestr hesitated before letting his arms relax and his palms rest onto the cool ground.

He winced as her nimble fingers traced over the wound. Though it was in a much better state than the day he first got it, it was not fully healed. The gash in his flesh was large and partially scabbed over. Some areas were bleeding again, having been ripped open in his most recent battle. Despite the blood, there was no sign of infection, which was a surprise to both Thórgestr and Senua alike.

“Stay here,” once again, a demand. Senua stood and quickly walked to the edge of the hut. Ástríor had made sure there were fresh linen underclothes and a few spare tunics were left in the hut for her, in addition to a salve from the town’s healer. She grabbed a tunic and cut it into strips before bringing them and the salve back to were Thórgestr was resting on the floor.

He watched her silently as she applied the medicine to his leg, a deep unhappiness taking ahold of her face.

This is all your fault.

You hurt him, Senua.

Why do you always hurt the men you care for?

Are you going to hurt him like you hurt Dillion?

Senua fought the tears that were welling up in her eyes. She began to wrap his leg, as gently as she could manage, taking note of how he tensed as she went. She ran her thumb across the improvised bandage one last time before she retracted her hands. She could not bear to meet his eyes. “Why did you not ask to see a healer.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Do you believe these people would heal me?”

No, she did not.

“I am strong,” he continued. The corner of her lip turned upwards at the harshness of his accent. So different from the melodic cadence of Dillion’s voice, but endearing in its own right. “The pain is only temporary.”

He hoped she could not see the heat he could feel radiating from his cheeks. Every touch left him with tingles running along his nerves. It had been a long while since a woman had touched him so gently. Even longer since he was cared for by a woman. Sure, he had lovers, but they all seemed much more interested in who his father was than who he was. He could feel their lack of sincerity, so they never earned a permanent position in his life. There was one who he thought was different, but she passed on long ago.

He had came back from a hunt, hoping to surprise her with some brightly colored wild flowers he had found growing in the forest. It was he who was surprised when he found her motionless in his bed, surrounded by blood, and what looked to be the beginnings of a baby. His baby. One he had not even known was growing. He cupped it in his hands and cried harder than he ever had looking at the features that were starting to become distinct. He cried harder than he did when he was a boy and The Tyrant took his mother. To him, he saw his whole future lying dead and cold in front of him.

That is how his father found him. He was beaten black and blue for showing such weakness, though, after much protest, Thórgestr was allowed to send off his beloved and their little one in a burning boat rather than a pyre. He had been with no women since. His lamenting was interrupted when Senua offered him her hand. He accepted, and she helped him to his feet. She wrapped one arm around his waist and slung his over her shoulders. She walked him over to the bed and helped him lie down slowly. The exhaustion he had long since been fighting crashed over him like rough waters on a boat.

His eyes scanned the hut once more and he realized there was no second bed. He attempted to sit back up, but was swiftly pushed back down by two small, but strong, hands on his chest.

“You must rest . You said yourself our journey is long.” She stared down him, her bright blue eyes mesmerizing him. He took note of her hair; it was different. Her head piece was removed, as was the tie that held all of the dreads of her hair together. The locks of her hair had made their way to rest at the front of her shoulders. To Thórgestr, they looked like vines creating a frame around her face.

She looked beautiful.

His heart is beating so fast.

Look what you’ve done to him.

Your hands, Senua, why haven’t you removed them?

She knows why.

She became acutely aware that The Furies were right, she had not removed her hands from his chest, when he brought one of his hands up to cover hers. It was her turn to blush, though she could blame the glow of the fire should he bring it up.

“Senua” His voice was but a low whisper, and her fingers flexed into his chest at the vibrations she felt when he spoke her name. “It is you that should have the bed. You need to be strong.”

“You are injured.” She protested.

He began to argue back, but the words died in his throat when her free hand came up to his face. Her fingers cupped his cheeks and her thumb traced over his lips. Senua could not explain why she had done that. She hadn’t even realized what she had done until the Furies were screaming at her once again.

What are you doing?

His lips…

They are soft.

Softer than Dillion’s.

Flesh is softer than bone.

Senua did her best to ignore them, but she did not immediately move her hands.

“If you are so concerned, you take one side and I shall take the other.” She whispered . She could not believe what she was saying, but she knew from their time together that they both were equally as stubborn and she did not wish to argue any farther. She wasn’t sure she could muster up the words.

“You shouldn’t sleep in your leather.” She finally spoke, changing the subject and withdrawing her hands into her lap. She stood suddenly, meekly walking over to the spare garments once again. She grabbed a larger one for Thórgestr and handed it to him. She wordlessly retreated to the fire once more, her back facing him to give him privacy. Thoughts of what he must look like clouded her mind, though she did not dare to look behind her. She wondered if his markings adorned his chest as well. She heard the thud and clang of his clothing hit the ground by the bed.

It was a few moments more before he cleared his throat. “Are you…. Shall I turn away for you.” She blinked once. Twice. She was a fool. She couldn’t chastise him for sleeping in leather and then sleep in her own.

“Yes.” She breathed. She kept her back to him as she undid the ties of her clothing and swapped them for the remaining under clothes and tunic. When she finally turned around, his head was firmly facing the opposite direction, and for that, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Her feet were cold as she wandered back to the bed. When she slipped under the woolen bedding, she did not leave as much space between them as she could have.

Thórgestr did not complain.

Sleep came for them both not long after, but, the sleep was not peaceful. Thórgestr was roused from his slumber by the thrashing and whimpering of the woman next to him. The fire had gone out by then, so he was unable to clearly see her face, but her distress was evident. Most nights Senua was plagued by terrible nightmares. Her father, Dillion, the blood eagle, the darkness consuming her. Most nights she was alone.

Thórgestr wished he could take his sword and slay whatever monsters corrupted her sleep, but he knew that was impossible. Instead, he moved closer to her and tenderly shook one of her shoulders. She shot up as quickly as lightning shot down from the sky. She was gasping for air like she had been drowning.

“Senua!” He spoke, grabbing her by both her arms when she began to struggle, confused by her surroundings. “Senua, it is alright. You are safe.” Recognition set in, and she gazed into his eyes. They were just barely glinting in the moonlight that shown through the gaps in the ceiling. She fell sobbing into his chest, her fingers digging into his taught skin through the thin fabric he wore. He slowly laid back down on the bed, pulling her so she rested comfortably upon him.

He gently stroked her hair and down the length of her back, thinking of anything to distract himself from how vividly he felt every curve of her body. He consoled her softly and promised her once again that she was safe with him.

Weeks ago he tried to kill you.

He tried to kill us.

But now he is holding you.

He is protecting you.

He keeps protecting you, not unlike Dillion.

Eventually, they found sleep once again. Senua did not wake again until she heard the hut door close quietly, and Fargrimr’s voice murmuring something about her still being asleep. As she blinked the sleep from her eyes, she realized she was still entangled with Thórgestr in the manner she fell back asleep in. She was laying partially on top of him. She smiled at the way the scattered rays of sunlight illuminated his angular features.

She moved to sit up, her leg sliding over his lap. She froze when she felt it, and her face burned hotter than the fire the draugrs spit when a soft groan slipped past his lips. Her gaze lowered slowly to confirm she truly was feeling what she thought she was. She’d felt only Dillion in this way, and it hadn’t been more than a handful of times.

What did you expect?

Do you desire him?

He desires you.

Of course she does.

She isn’t moving.

She was frozen in place, but her blood ran hot. She felt a familiar heat. A tightness in her belly. As if he could feel her gaze, Thórgestr slowly began to wake. His initial reaction was to smile when he saw her soft face above is. However, he noticed her flushed complexion and followed her line of sight.

He quickly sat up, pulling away from her and the bedding into his lap. He didn’t know what emotion he felt more strongly. Shame or embarrassment. There was a prolonged silence and neither could look the other in the eye. When he felt like he could not take it anymore, he began to mumble. “I am sorry. It is morning. These things,” he paused, closing his eyes tightly. “these things happen in the morning.” Senua simply nodded. She remained silent for another stretch.

“We should get ready to leave. The daylight is upon us and we still need to eat.” Senua nodded again and stepped slowly to her leather. Steeling herself for what would happen once she walked out the door.

[dustedmagazine]

SUMAC — The Healer (Thrill Jockey)

Photo by Nate Newton

The Healer is an ambitiously heavy sort of moniker to lay on a record — if not a presumptuous one. But if any band can match up to those implied ambitions and that variety of heavy, it’s SUMAC. Certainly it’s the case that SUMAC’s idiosyncratic synthesis of improvisation and metal’s ultimate worship of the riff has unusual power: frequently their playing cracks open new spaces, full of violent suffering and meditative dispassion, those disparate affects sometimes simultaneously present. When a new SUMAC record appears, you sort of know that’s coming. The experience is still unexpectedly transporting when it envelopes you. Is that healing?

Likely that’s up to the listener and the listener’s needs. For sure The Healer feels like a complement — if not an extension — of SUMAC’s previous LP May You Be Held. In my review of that record, I noted the ways in which it seemed invested in the concept of ritual and experience of catharsis. The Healer is even more insistent: note the record title’s indication of purification and rejuvenation; note also that one of the songs is titled “New Rite.” All those signs and symbols accumulate. The band seems to want its audience to go through something profound, and to come out the other side changed for the better.

Despite the strong thematic ties between the records, The Healer operates according to a differing formal logic. May You Be Held was blisteringly volatile: songs slowly fought their ways towards conventional structures; held themselves together, sometimes briefly; then exploded and disarticulated, into sheets of emotionally charged noise. On The Healer, players Aaron Turner, Brian Cook and Nick Yacyshyn pursue what feels like an opposing set of tactics: the songs want to cohere, to assume those conventional forms from the jump, and SUMAC holds that off as long as possible, stubbornly following intuitions until the riffs and rhythms can no longer be denied.

Listeners wanting a somewhat more traditional metal record experience may find those tactics more comfortable to engage. Listeners wanting a SUMAC record will be happy to know that the band’s tendencies toward intuitive sonic conflagration are not entirely domesticated: see the incendiary second half of “Yellow Dawn” or the driving middle section of “New Rite.” Some lyrics from that latter song capture the record’s general effects: “In tumult, mind carried / Thought obscured / Inlets to flowering expanse.”

That may be too rosy a picture. Not all ears will find a “flowering expanse” in these moody, doomy performances. Album closer “The Stone’s Turn” explores especially forbidding sonic terrain through its opening passages, an evocation of the “tumult” invoked just above. But around the sixth minute, a melodic element begins to shape the thunderous noise, and while the storm moves in and out of the song’s unstable center, the shaping impulse never completely cedes to the chaos. At one point, Turner howls, “Now hands may rest / On gentle skin / Held.” The implied reference to the earlier record’s title feels purposeful, and soon Turner sings, “Licked by golden flame / We are remade.” That seems a fitting metaphorical account of SUMAC’s ideas of healing, ritual and music. Harsh, but beautiful. Bruising, but full of care. It’s a really good record.

Jonathan Shaw

[feyhunter78]

Hi, this is my first request (ever), I was wandering if you could write a one shot of RoP Elrond/fem! reader where the reader is really good with kids but Elrond is kind of awkward around them. While he's working group of small children come and interrupt Elrond and the reader finds Elrond in this predicament and shoos them away, causing Elrond to fall more in love with the reader than he already was.

AHHHHH thank you for allowing me to be the first person you request from!!! I feel so honored <3 Here is a little oneshot for you my love, I hope you like it!!!!!

Curious Minds

It is not that Elrond does not enjoy children; in fact, he very much enjoys them. Their curiosity and joy is infectious, and he loves to see the future of his people exploring their paths and becoming men and woman that pursue their own passions and become great leaders, artists, generals, healers, and scholars.

The issue is that he does not understand how to be around them. They ask many questions and do not wish to sit still long enough for the answer, they have too much energy, and they have an insatiable appetite for destruction—even the well-behaved ones!

So when a group of children approaches him while he is sitting beside the river working on the High-King’s newest speech, he’s unsure of how to proceed.

“You are Lord Elrond, the High-King’s Herald, yes?” One asks.

Before he can answer, another pipes up. “Do you enjoy your job?”

Again, he tries to answer.

“Where is your wife? I thought all the Lords had ladies?”

His cheeks tint pink as he scrambles to come up with an answer as all the children latch onto that particular question, clambering for his response, their curious eyes staring up at him impatiently.

“Perhaps it is because he read too much, my mother said I would never find a husband if all I do is stay inside and read.” A young elven girl says, a pout on her lips, her brown hair in a simple braid.

“I do not think that is true, I would like a wife who reads, then we could talk about our favorite stories.” A boy her age says, his cheeks slowly blossoming a bright red as he scoots closer to the pouting girl.

“We already do that, Melis.” She says annoyed before her friends begin to tease her, and she drops her gaze to the ground.

“Melis and Vya are married!” One of the other children shouts, causing the others to take up his words.

Soon it is a fervent chant and Elrond is frantically looking around trying to find a way to escape this gaggle of tiny chanters.

“Children, how many times must I tell you not to wander off during garden time?” A melodic voice breaks through the high-pitched chanting, and Elrond stands abruptly, sensing an escape.

You hurry up the path, brow furrowed with worry that only dissipates when you see all the children are accounted for. “And you have been bothering the Lord Herald? That is quite inappropriate, please apologize to Lord Elrond.” Your voice is stern and the children’s faces fall.

“It—they were no bother, truly.” Elrond stutters, inclining his head towards you.

“Lord Elrond, please, do not speak falsehoods to cover for these troublemakers.” You warn playfully, the children already gathered around you, some clinging to your skirt for comfort.

“I speak plainly, they merely had questions for me.” He reiterates, giving you a shy smile.

You smile back at him. “Oh, is that so?”

“We wished to know why he was not married.”

A look of shock flashed across your face. “I—Lord Elrond, I am deeply sorry, I swear to you, I do not teach the children to ask such personal questions.”

Elrond waved his hand dismissively. “I am not offended.”

You bent down and directed the children to return to their classroom before approaching Elrond. “You must forgive them; we are learning about courtship rituals, and they are merely curious.”

Elrond nodded, then gathered his courage, taking your hand and pressing it to his lips. “Perhaps I might declare my intention to court you, then? Allow us to further our knowledge of each other and give the children a more personal example?”

Your cheeks warmed under his gaze, and you nodded. “That would be wonderful.”

“I shall come collect you from your quarters at seven, then, for a walk in the gardens.” He smiled then bowed slightly, taking his leave.

You did then same, the both of you smiling brightly as you made your way back to your individual duties.

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @elronds-pointy-ears, @elrondscalaquendi, @dilf-superiority, @jesticace