b00kdiary

[b00kdiary]

Alright, based on your ACOTAR unpopular opinion about tamlin...I will get on my knees and beg you to write a Tamlinx plus size reader fic where she helps him heal and he is just head over heels in love with her Pretty please with sugar on top 💚

Beauty & the Beast | Tamlin

ACOTAR Tamlin X Plus Sized Reader

When Y/N finds Tamlin dying in the forest, she has no choice but to save him. Even if everything in her wished this male dead. Like two storms colliding, they meet. A broken High Lord, a hopeless healer. It almost sounds like fate.

Warning: PART ONE Mature themes (18+), swearing, fluff, and eventual smut next chapter.

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

"Wake up!" I hissed, "Wake up, you lumbering brute!"

The beast groaned, his lithe body writhing beneath my hands—hands that pressed desperately against the mortal wound at his side, trying to staunch the relentless flow of blood.

His golden fur was matted with red, the blood oozing from the gaping hole beneath his fifth rib. My palms were sticky with it, and the bitter, metallic scent filled the air. If I could smell it, I knew every predator and prey in the forest could too.

I shifted on my knees atop the muddied ground, my wide eyes canvassing the vast forest around me, scrutinizing every leaf and log and skitter of feet. I strained my ears, listening for any noises that would indicate that more of them were coming.

I glared down at the beast before me, that wolf's head lolling on the floor, his lion's body limp with pain, and those bear's claws coated with guts and gore.

"You're going to get us both killed," I cursed him, cursed myself, cursed the Mother and the Cauldron, and every other forgotten God out there for forcing this upon me.

I had found him passed out in this forest passage, a death rattle trembling from his lungs. If that hadn't been bad enough, my heart nearly stopped dead at the sight not fifteen feet ahead— Naga, five of them, ripped to utter ribbons and scattered across the dirt.

They had put up a furious fight if the scratches and claws and teeth marks covering him were any indication. Enough of a fight that one had managed to strike a deadly blow to the male before it died.

He had been dying when I found him, had lost so much blood for a second, I thought he was dead.

And now here I was— desperately trying to save him. Save the High Lord of Spring.

If he could even be considered that anymore.

I grit my teeth, steadying my breath as I let my power surge through me. White, incandescent light blazed from my hands, channeling directly into the wound. It stitched torn flesh, mended tendons, fused bones, and restored the ruined skin.

Only for a second though, before the injury tore open yet again and a fresh bout of blood began leaking through the gaps in my fingers. It was the same cycle I had been enduring for several long minutes now, and I began to fear his body would not take any more of this.

"For the love of the Mother," I pressed my palms down hard enough to hurt, hard enough for his muscled form to jolt. "You need to wake up, you need to change back to your Fae form!"

Panic rose in me like a tidal wave as his breathing grew shallower. This forest had become a death trap; these lands teemed with danger. If Naga roamed here, then so would bogeys, exiles, and Cauldron knows what other horrors.

Here, on this cursed ground, with this wounded, defenceless male, we were prey. We were as vulnerable as rabbits caught in a snare, awaiting death. And it was all because of him, the state he was in, the state of these lands, the monsters that had been tormenting the people and villages.

It was all because of him.

Anger blazed through me, bringing tears to my eyes. In a moment of desperation, I did something cruel, something that made my very soul weep. I plunged a finger into his wound, the flesh and blood squelching as I repeatedly stabbed into him.

On the third brutal stab, his fierce green eyes snapped open, shining like emeralds amidst the darkness.

The High Lord of the Spring Court roared.

The very land trembled with that roar, and I cringed as birds took flight from trees and the forest animals began dashing away — from the horrible power and anger that radiated off this beast.

He flipped, as fast as I could blink, snapping jaws and growling, nearly knocking me straight onto my ass as he did so. But as quick as that anger came, it was replaced by something far worse, far stronger.

The High Lord groaned, his mammoth form staggering back to the ground as pain overwhelmed him.

"What have you done?" He commanded, in a voice that was nothing Fae or human or safe. He tried to drag himself away from me, but somehow, I was the stronger one in this situation, keeping my hands staunching his wound. "What have you done to me?"

"Will you stop fucking moving?" I hissed, trying not to balk as those soulless green eyes latched onto me and he snarled. "I didn't do this to you, but I am the one saving your gods-damn life."

His claws extended at my words, latching onto the ground. He glared at me as if he wished that it had been my flesh instead.

"What are you doing— "

His voice was the epitome of raw, primal danger as his form moved, snatching back from my hands, from the white light that had begun leaking from it. I swore because as soon as my pressure disappeared, a steady tap of near-black blood began to ooze and puddle under him.

I gasped as he staggered onto his bloodied paws, so fathomably large that he eclipsed the forest, eclipsed the sun and sky above. The blood didn't stop leaking, yet that did little to deter the beast as he tried and failed to step away, swaying and groaning as he did so.

"Stop, you need to lay down," I fought the urge to grab him, cringing at the gore and blood painted across my hands, stuck under my fingernails. "You need to turn, I can't heal— "

"Do not touch me," Another monstrous snap of teeth and threatening snarl when I reached a hand to him. "Do not touch me, witch."

"Witch?" I laughed sardonically. "I am a healer you bastard, and I am trying to save your ungrateful ass."

He hunched forward, grimacing in pain, a pain I saw hollow out his green eyes. It took more effort than it should have for his powerful head to lift and those eyes to meet mine.

"Mind your tongue when you speak to me, witch," He warned, sharp, terse words undercut with laboured breath. "Do you know who I am? I demand respect as High Lord— "

"You demand nothing, you are nothing," I erupted, my voice rising with my temper as I pointed at him. My hands were bloodied, almost symbolic really. "Look at yourself, look around you. You are Lord of nothing, you are Lord of no one, and none but me is here to aid you."

He staggered another step, paws shaking from his weight. If he heard my words, if he felt the sting of them, I couldn't tell.

"You need to turn back to your Fae form if you want to live," I continued, my tone still unforgiving. "My magic is useless to you like this, I can't stop the bleeding until you turn."

"And if I do not?" He retorted, words beginning to slur together. Somehow, he didn't look so scary now—  he almost looked afraid. "Will your healer heart allow you to leave me here to die, Witch?"

"Turn," I said again, almost pleading now. Because the blood had begun to slow, and I knew that would not bode well for him. "Please, turn."

He blinked, long, dark lashes fluttering and that terrifying yet magnificent beast face stared at me, stared through me. I wondered if he was contemplating death if the darkness in his eyes was him resigning himself in defeat.

"If not for yourself," I said, my words strained. "Then for your people, for this court. Do not – do not abandon them wholly, Tamlin."

Tamlin. It was the first time I had uttered his name and as if the darkness had been pulled like a blanket from his eyes, I saw clarity shine within the green hues.

One second that foreboding, golden beast towered above me, and then the next, light flared, and I had to shield my eyes to endure it. It took me a moment to reorientate myself and when I had, my breath caught at the sight before me.

Tamlin knelt in the mud, with his head hung low, long blonde hair eclipsing his strong, beautiful face. Those broad shoulders hunched in, his body a canvas of muscle, carved and dipped and moulded to perfection.

He looked like a broken king. A bloodied monarch kicked down to the status of a mongrel.

His moon-pale skin seemed to shine under the dim Spring sun, his chest heaving with shallow breaths as he composed himself. The wound was worse in his Fae form, so much worse. I swallowed back the tinge of bile rising in my throat at the distinct sight of bone marrow and tendons peeking out the gaping hole.

"Cauldron, I need to heal that now— " I reached for him, and the infuriating bastard jerked back. I growled. "Do you want to die?"

His chest rose, faster now, his large, calloused hands curling into fists in the mud.

"Because believe me, your death would bear little impact on me, or anyone else." I continue harshly. "In fact, under different circumstances I'd probably be more incensed to watch you bleed out."

"Then let me bleed, Witch," He rumbled.

"If you die, we're all fucked." I spit, crawling angrily through the mud towards him, my dress streaked in dirt and filth beyond saving. "Because you have no heirs and no powerful contenders in your shitty court to supersede you. It's just you. And as useless as you are, at least the breath in your lungs is keeping this territory from completely collapsing."

His head lifted as I stopped before him, and my breath caught at the first real sight I got of his face.

Cauldron, he was beautiful.

Carved with an effortless kind of regality, his face was a canvas born of strong contours and noble lines that screamed power. High cheekbones, a straight, precise nose, and full yet firm lips, curled into a snarl that allowed the smallest glimpse of the sharp, white teeth beneath.

But it was his eyes that stole the air from my lungs.

Vividly green, deep and endless, like the heart of an ancient forest. And like a forest, they were still, fathomless, soulless. They stared through me.

He didn't argue with my condemning words. In truth, he didn't even seem to be affected by them.

But he unfurled his fists in the mud. And it spoke the words he wouldn't say.

Exhaling a deep breath, I shifted closer on my knees, closing the final gap of space between us. My small shaking hands reached towards that gaping bleeding hole, slowly, like one would approach a wounded animal.

Which Tamlin seemed to be. Wounded. Broken. Damaged beyond repair. The High Lord of Spring was a shell of the male he had been.

It was almost sad. Almost.

He sucked in a sharp breath as my palm connected with his torn, ruined flesh, squelching. I steepled my fingers over the open wound, his skin hot and electric against mine.

"This is going to hurt," I warned softly.

"Careful, or I'll think you care, Witch." He drawled, head bowed low again.

"Not likely," I muttered, and I thought I saw a hint of a sardonic smile.

I didn't dwell on it. I didn't view him as anything other than something I despised.

I clenched my teeth, forcing my breath to steady as I unleashed my power. White, incandescent light poured from my hands, sinking into the gaping wound. Flesh knit together, torn tendons wove back into place, shattered bones fused seamlessly, and raw, ruined skin smoothed as if untouched.

The air hummed with magic, the light pulsing in time with his shallow breaths—until, at last, the wound was nothing more than a ghost of pain left behind.

His chest expanded with a deep, powerful breath and with the exhale, the forestry around us quivered. It was raw power. And yet I had the distinct impression that it was a mere whisper of what he truly possessed in his arsenal.

It was the crumbs of what remained after months of stagnation and stifling.

He groaned, hunching forward, his fist meeting the ground to steady himself. Instinctively, I reached forward, small hands gripping his broad shoulders and using my strength to keep the brute from collapsing and eating dirt.

An electric hum of power burned through my palm where it met his skin, so potent it prickled through my bloodstream and straight to my heart, thumping it loud and hard, again and again.

Ba bum. Ba bum. Ba bum—

He tore his body from mine, a snarl rumbling in his chest. "Unhand me, Witch. I'm fine."

My eyes narrowed into slits, palms curling into fists and retreating to my sides. "Yeah, you seem fine. Perfectly normal to keel over in the dirt."

Emerald eyes shot to mine, narrowed and sharp with anger at my sardonic tone.

"And you're welcome by the way," I spat, tossing my braid over a shoulder and rising to my feet indignantly. "You know, for saving your life."

My dress was ruined, the simple blue cotton stained with mud and blood and Cauldron only knew what else. The fabric stuck wetly to my body, clinging uncomfortably to every swell and dip and roll I had.

His gaze flickered from my face down my body. His snarling expression didn't shift, but there was a distinct flare in his eyes. Like a male seeing something that he couldn't deny, even if he wanted to.

Heat bloomed my cheeks, and I roughly cleared my throat, straightening my spine. "Guess we're done here. Try not to die again, High Lord."

I bowed mockingly, enjoying the grumble of annoyance that revved through his chest. Before straightening, shooting the male one last scathing look and turning on my heel in the forest and walking away.

I cringed at the blood caking my hands, cringed more as I tiptoed over the mutilated bodies of the Naga scattered around. I'd need to find a stream, or some kind of well, if I walked into the next village looking like a mass murderer I'd be chased off with pitchforks.

Perhaps if I—

A pained grunt broke through my inner thoughts and my feet stopped before I commanded them to. I turned back around and then huffed. "Oh, for fuck sake."

The High Lord of Spring was passed out on the floor, face buried in the dirt.

I hesitated and then trudged back towards him, cursing the Mother for my misfortune.

***

When my senses finally returned, two things became clear.

One: Night had fallen, meaning I'd been unconscious for hours.

Two: The loud, foul-mouthed witch who had saved my life was still here.

With more effort than I cared to admit, I turned my head to the side, the movement sending a dull ache rippling through my skull. A rough, lumpy branch pressed against my neck, its bark biting into my skin.

Blinking away the black spots that danced at the edges of my vision, my gaze settled on the witch.

She crouched before a crackling fire, her small, plump hands outstretched toward the flames. Now and then, she plucked a broken branch from the pile beside her and tossed it into the fire, the wood hissing as it caught.

My eyes traced over those hands—clean now, the dried blood and filth scrubbed away. She must have found water. Where there had once been crusted gore, there was only smooth, unblemished skin, her nails polished and pristine, glinting faintly in the firelight.

I recalled how they'd glowed, incandescent and pure, when she'd pressed over my gaping wound and healed me. The heat had been both excruciating yet relieving, the feeling of that fatal hole closing inch by inch felt like a breath of fresh air after an eternity trapped underwater.

She was a healer, though in five hundred years, I'd never encountered a healer like her, or any female like her. Brazen, out-spoken, mouthy beyond what was smart or necessary.

If I didn't owe her a life debt, I'd likely have torn out that viper tongue of hers. Or plucked out those sharp, piercing eyes that glared and narrowed and rolled as if I were a pest she had stumbled across.

Cauldron, the witch had infuriated me enough that I'd almost forgotten I was dying.

My gaze unconsciously swept over her form. Another distracting thing I would begrudgingly admit to. Her body was pure sin. A temptation any hot-blooded male would be unable to deny.

I rake down the spoiled fabric of her dress, the blue cotton stained red from my blood, dried and flaking. It clung to her obscenely, highlighting the swells of her ample figure in a way that would make any God-fearing male send up blessings to the Cauldron and Mother above.

Much to my chagrin, I was staring. Even with a splitting migraine, and a soul-deep ache, I was staring.

"Finally awake, sleeping beauty?" That viper tongue of hers drawled, and my green eyes snapped up from her body to those unforgiving eyes.

My gaze narrowed.

Her eyes rolled in response, and she chucked another log onto the fire, the flames crackling and rising high. Against the backdrop of the dark, silent forest, the amber fire kissed her skin, highlighting the plump curves and the tart persona.

"You're welcome," She muttered drily. "You know, for saving your life. Again."

"I wasn't dying, Witch." My voice rumbled out like a thunderclap.

"No, you just passed out into the dirt, sweating, heartbeat near non-existent and then didn't awake for half a day," Another eye roll, "Sounds perfectly normal to me."

I tried to raise myself onto my elbows. Tried and failed. A growl rumbled in my throat.

"You came back." It wasn't a question. Just a statement. As flat and unfeeling as my soul felt.

"Seemed a waste for me to make such an effort to save your life, only for you to die from exposure," She shrugged. And I had the distinct impression this female truly did not care if I lived or died.

It should have offended me, perhaps hurt me, but instead, I found it begrudgingly admirable. She hated me and had no qualms being up front about it. That kind of honesty was rare.

I vaguely recalled her words earlier.

"Bastard."

"I am trying to save your ungrateful ass."

My lips almost tugged into a faint smile, a flicker of something akin to amusement blazing to life in my chest. It was an emotion I hadn't experienced in such a long time; I had difficulty even placing it.

My eyes sharpened upon her as she began to walk over to me. Instinctively, I curled my fists in the dirt, feeling the pinprick of my claws hidden just beneath the skin. If she felt my hostility, my aggression, she didn't acknowledge it.

My face was steel, immovable, as she knelt by my sprawled figure. Her face was a mirror, I quickly realised���steel, immovable, and cold—as if it was her instinct to resent being near me, too.

She reached for me, a damp scrap of cloth in her palm. I jerked back, and she glowered.

"Stop moving," She bit out, "or I'll pin your overgrown ass down."

Cauldron, she was a demon.

Ignoring my deathly glare, and the flash of sharp canine teeth, she merely placed the damp, cold cloth against my neck. With more tenderness than I'd expected, she began to carefully soothe my overheated skin.

My breath caught at the first touch of coldness, like ice meeting molten fire. But also cause of the brief touch of her skin against mine. Those soft small fingers grazing my throat and collarbones with each precise, gentle stroke of the cloth.

Her face betrayed nothing as she ran the cooling cloth over my skin, water droplets running down the carved muscles along my pectorals and abdomen. Though she clearly held contempt for me, this female soothed and cared for me with a touch that could only be described as God's-send.

It was the first moment of peace I'd felt in.... so long. Too long.

The forest around us eerily silent, except for the distant noises of lurking animals heard in snapping branches or rustling bristles. The moon above glowed— Dimly. Like everything in Spring, it was dim, depleted, as if the energy had been sucked dry from it.

Because of me.

Spring Court was weak, broken, vulnerable. Like me. A mirror image of the barren landscape that was my soul.

The Witch ran the cloth down my sternum, and the tingle rippled like dominos across my spine.

"For a Witch, who obviously disdains my mere existence," I said, more strained than I'd like. "You're helping me an awful lot."

Another drag of that cloth, down my stomach, my abdomen clenching. "Would you rather I let you die?"

"I think you would rather I die," I mutter.

Those eyes roll again. "I already told you; your death would do more bad than good."

"If you die, we're all fucked. Because you have no heirs and no powerful contenders in your shitty court to supersede you. It's just you. And as useless as you are, at least the breath in your lungs is keeping this territory from completely collapsing."

Right. I was the last thread holding this court together. Ironic considering I'd been the one responsible for its downfall to begin with.

"Have we met before, Witch?" I caught her small wrist in my large, calloused hand. Pressed my thumb against her pulse point and felt it race. The only sign that my presence affected that ice-cold exterior.

"No. we haven't." She said, her wrist in my hand still. "Though I doubt you would remember even if we had. Why bother, I'm only a lesser Fae. Common folk."

Her sharp words had my fingers tightening around her wrist, not painfully, but firmly. "So, you hate me without even knowing me?"

"I know enough."

My fingers tightened further. "You know nothing, Witch, I am—"

"I know that before, you ruled this land like one would rule an army: with an iron fist," She gritted out. "I know of the tithe you forced upon your people, even those who could barely feed their kids. The sanctions you placed as punishment when the common folk could not deliver to your heathen demands. The utter lack of mercy you had."

Her palm curled into a fist, her pulse pounding like a war drum under my thumb.

"I know that you are the reason that Spring had crumbled to the ashes," She continued on her unforgiving tirade. "Some blame Feyre Cursebreaker for the ruination of Spring. But me? I blame you."

Something cracked open in my chest at Feyre's name. The old wound leaking blood, so much, I swear I tasted iron on my tongue.

"Listen here, Witch," I snarled, tugging her by the wrist I still held, until her face hovered over mine. "Control your tongue, before I—"

"Before you what? What, you swine?" She breathed, fire in her eyes. "Because from where I stand, not only is your power little more than a spec, but your strength is even less. So do not threaten me."

My claws inched out my knuckles as I glared this viper down. She didn't so much as blink at it.

"It was your stupidity, your arrogance, your entitlement over Feyre that led you to allying with Hybern, led you to 'winning' her back," She continued, "And the ruin she inflicted upon spring, upon Ianthe, upon your sentinels, and army... it was all your doing."

"She betrayed me," I barked. "She betrayed us all."

"Feyre laid the traps," She scoffed, "But it was your selfishness, your pig-headed, easily led insecurity that made you fall straight into them. You betrayed her first, we all know it. So, stop lying to yourself and me."

"You don't know," I breathed, fist closing like a vice around her wrist, talons pressing to the delicate skin, not yet breaking through. I felt like a fire was burning through my heart. "You don't know, Witch."

"Perhaps not, perhaps that truth is one only you, Feyre and the Gods share," Her voice shook, those eyes glossed with anger and tears. "But after? What excuse do you have for abandoning this Court, Tamlin? What excuse is enough to explain what this land has become?"

The pain in her words felt as raw as her reaching into my chest and squeezing my stagnant heart. My eyes clenched, from weakness, from pain, from denial. I wasn't sure.

Her fingers gripped my chin hard, shook my face, forcing me to open my eyes again. "Look at me! Damn you, look at me!"

I did.

Tears welled in her eyes, her plump cheeks burning red and streaked with tears. But still her lip curled at the corner, a flash of white teeth.

"The sun barely shines; the moon hardly rises!" She continued, voice breaking. "The very earth itself is dying, because you have given up. You roam these lands, resigned in your beast form, and each day this court suffers more and more for it."

My talons pierce the delicate skin of her wrist, scarlet blood pooling from the pricks. But she doesn't flinch at it— I imagined her emotional pain overshadowed the physical.

"And the monsters that dwell here," A noise akin to a sob comes from her and I flinch. "Do you even know what is happening in the villages? What atrocities the common folk are enduring?"

A fresh bout of pain speared my chest. I was feeling again. Fuck, I forgot how much it hurt to feel.

"Monsters— Naga, Bogey, Puca— they roam these lands, uncontrolled," Her chest heaves as she says each word, "But it's our own people, the Fae of these lands, who terrorise us so greatly. Pillaging villages, murdering, raping, stealing, burning homes and business, taking children and wives!"

Breathing became a burden. As if the forest around us disappeared, and the pain that had throbbed in my body and mind and soul had been washed away, all I knew, all I felt, was this female. Her sorrow. So strong, I could taste her tears on my tongue.

My fingers loosened around her wrist, talons retreating into my skin.

"I watched my village burn as they came," She cried, "I saw homes and houses ruined, I saw men slaughtered and their heads spiked on lances and paraded. Women raped and violated before their families. Children beaten and chained. Barely a handful of us survived."

Something wet and hot began leaking down my cheeks, saltiness bursting across my tongue. I blinked back the fog over my eyes, wanting, needing, to see her anguished face above mine as she raged and sobbed.

Cauldron, I was crying.

When was the last time I'd cried?

"All these innocent people dead, violated, lives ruined. And do you know what they prayed for? Begged for?" She snarled at me, a gut-wrenching sob tearing from her mouth. "They prayed to the Cauldron for the High Lord to come save them. They prayed you would come, and you didn't!"

My body jerked, and I damn near almost begged her to stop. Please stop talking. Please stop making me feel this. Please stop.

"You didn't come," Her shoulders shook, head bowing forward as she whispered again and again. "You didn't save them."

Please stop.

Her face blurred in my vision, a cloud of endless tears falling. I didn't speak; I didn't make a sound. I had nothing to say— no excuse, no reason, nothing that could ever undo this. Nothing.

"Feyre betrayed you, but you betrayed us," She breathed. Her head lifted, and those agonised eyes locked onto mine. A look of condemnation from a thousand souls. "You betrayed us."

A gurgled noise bubbles at the base of my throat, the muscles clenched so tight I could barely get down a breath. My fingers tightened around her wrist almost desperately.

She watched me.

Waited.

My lips parted, mouth opening— speak, you fucking bastard, say something, say anything! Nothing came out, no words, no sounds, nothing.

She scoffed, tearing her wrist from my hold, severing the connection between us, and I felt it like the loss of a limb. I watch her hand swipe across her face, smearing snot and tears angrily.

I reached out my shaking hand as she rose and stalked away.

"Sleep, Tamlin," She said coldly, settling onto a log beside the fire, her back to me. "And pray the monsters don't come out to play tonight."

***

I don't know when I fell asleep. Or how.

Perhaps from exhaustion, or pain, or perhaps my bleeding heart drained any reserve I had left until my body had no choice but to sleep.

But when I awoke, I knew two things yet again.

One: It was morning, and the dying sun shone overhead.

Two: The Witch was gone. 

___________________________________________________________

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Taking requests for all SJM men x plus size reader!

PART TWO COMING SOON!

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[b00kdiary]

Alright, based on your ACOTAR unpopular opinion about tamlin...I will get on my knees and beg you to write a Tamlinx plus size reader fic where she helps him heal and he is just head over heels in love with her Pretty please with sugar on top 💚

Beauty & the Beast | Tamlin

ACOTAR Tamlin X Plus Sized Reader

When Y/N finds Tamlin dying in the forest, she has no choice but to save him. Even if everything in her wished this male dead. Like two storms colliding, they meet. A broken High Lord, a hopeless healer. It almost sounds like fate.

Warning: PART ONE Mature themes (18+), swearing, fluff, and eventual smut next chapter.

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

"Wake up!" I hissed, "Wake up, you lumbering brute!"

The beast groaned, his lithe body writhing beneath my hands—hands that pressed desperately against the mortal wound at his side, trying to staunch the relentless flow of blood.

His golden fur was matted with red, the blood oozing from the gaping hole beneath his fifth rib. My palms were sticky with it, and the bitter, metallic scent filled the air. If I could smell it, I knew every predator and prey in the forest could too.

I shifted on my knees atop the muddied ground, my wide eyes canvassing the vast forest around me, scrutinizing every leaf and log and skitter of feet. I strained my ears, listening for any noises that would indicate that more of them were coming.

I glared down at the beast before me, that wolf's head lolling on the floor, his lion's body limp with pain, and those bear's claws coated with guts and gore.

"You're going to get us both killed," I cursed him, cursed myself, cursed the Mother and the Cauldron, and every other forgotten God out there for forcing this upon me.

I had found him passed out in this forest passage, a death rattle trembling from his lungs. If that hadn't been bad enough, my heart nearly stopped dead at the sight not fifteen feet ahead— Naga, five of them, ripped to utter ribbons and scattered across the dirt.

They had put up a furious fight if the scratches and claws and teeth marks covering him were any indication. Enough of a fight that one had managed to strike a deadly blow to the male before it died.

He had been dying when I found him, had lost so much blood for a second, I thought he was dead.

And now here I was— desperately trying to save him. Save the High Lord of Spring.

If he could even be considered that anymore.

I grit my teeth, steadying my breath as I let my power surge through me. White, incandescent light blazed from my hands, channeling directly into the wound. It stitched torn flesh, mended tendons, fused bones, and restored the ruined skin.

Only for a second though, before the injury tore open yet again and a fresh bout of blood began leaking through the gaps in my fingers. It was the same cycle I had been enduring for several long minutes now, and I began to fear his body would not take any more of this.

"For the love of the Mother," I pressed my palms down hard enough to hurt, hard enough for his muscled form to jolt. "You need to wake up, you need to change back to your Fae form!"

Panic rose in me like a tidal wave as his breathing grew shallower. This forest had become a death trap; these lands teemed with danger. If Naga roamed here, then so would bogeys, exiles, and Cauldron knows what other horrors.

Here, on this cursed ground, with this wounded, defenceless male, we were prey. We were as vulnerable as rabbits caught in a snare, awaiting death. And it was all because of him, the state he was in, the state of these lands, the monsters that had been tormenting the people and villages.

It was all because of him.

Anger blazed through me, bringing tears to my eyes. In a moment of desperation, I did something cruel, something that made my very soul weep. I plunged a finger into his wound, the flesh and blood squelching as I repeatedly stabbed into him.

On the third brutal stab, his fierce green eyes snapped open, shining like emeralds amidst the darkness.

The High Lord of the Spring Court roared.

The very land trembled with that roar, and I cringed as birds took flight from trees and the forest animals began dashing away — from the horrible power and anger that radiated off this beast.

He flipped, as fast as I could blink, snapping jaws and growling, nearly knocking me straight onto my ass as he did so. But as quick as that anger came, it was replaced by something far worse, far stronger.

The High Lord groaned, his mammoth form staggering back to the ground as pain overwhelmed him.

"What have you done?" He commanded, in a voice that was nothing Fae or human or safe. He tried to drag himself away from me, but somehow, I was the stronger one in this situation, keeping my hands staunching his wound. "What have you done to me?"

"Will you stop fucking moving?" I hissed, trying not to balk as those soulless green eyes latched onto me and he snarled. "I didn't do this to you, but I am the one saving your gods-damn life."

His claws extended at my words, latching onto the ground. He glared at me as if he wished that it had been my flesh instead.

"What are you doing— "

His voice was the epitome of raw, primal danger as his form moved, snatching back from my hands, from the white light that had begun leaking from it. I swore because as soon as my pressure disappeared, a steady tap of near-black blood began to ooze and puddle under him.

I gasped as he staggered onto his bloodied paws, so fathomably large that he eclipsed the forest, eclipsed the sun and sky above. The blood didn't stop leaking, yet that did little to deter the beast as he tried and failed to step away, swaying and groaning as he did so.

"Stop, you need to lay down," I fought the urge to grab him, cringing at the gore and blood painted across my hands, stuck under my fingernails. "You need to turn, I can't heal— "

"Do not touch me," Another monstrous snap of teeth and threatening snarl when I reached a hand to him. "Do not touch me, witch."

"Witch?" I laughed sardonically. "I am a healer you bastard, and I am trying to save your ungrateful ass."

He hunched forward, grimacing in pain, a pain I saw hollow out his green eyes. It took more effort than it should have for his powerful head to lift and those eyes to meet mine.

"Mind your tongue when you speak to me, witch," He warned, sharp, terse words undercut with laboured breath. "Do you know who I am? I demand respect as High Lord— "

"You demand nothing, you are nothing," I erupted, my voice rising with my temper as I pointed at him. My hands were bloodied, almost symbolic really. "Look at yourself, look around you. You are Lord of nothing, you are Lord of no one, and none but me is here to aid you."

He staggered another step, paws shaking from his weight. If he heard my words, if he felt the sting of them, I couldn't tell.

"You need to turn back to your Fae form if you want to live," I continued, my tone still unforgiving. "My magic is useless to you like this, I can't stop the bleeding until you turn."

"And if I do not?" He retorted, words beginning to slur together. Somehow, he didn't look so scary now—  he almost looked afraid. "Will your healer heart allow you to leave me here to die, Witch?"

"Turn," I said again, almost pleading now. Because the blood had begun to slow, and I knew that would not bode well for him. "Please, turn."

He blinked, long, dark lashes fluttering and that terrifying yet magnificent beast face stared at me, stared through me. I wondered if he was contemplating death if the darkness in his eyes was him resigning himself in defeat.

"If not for yourself," I said, my words strained. "Then for your people, for this court. Do not – do not abandon them wholly, Tamlin."

Tamlin. It was the first time I had uttered his name and as if the darkness had been pulled like a blanket from his eyes, I saw clarity shine within the green hues.

One second that foreboding, golden beast towered above me, and then the next, light flared, and I had to shield my eyes to endure it. It took me a moment to reorientate myself and when I had, my breath caught at the sight before me.

Tamlin knelt in the mud, with his head hung low, long blonde hair eclipsing his strong, beautiful face. Those broad shoulders hunched in, his body a canvas of muscle, carved and dipped and moulded to perfection.

He looked like a broken king. A bloodied monarch kicked down to the status of a mongrel.

His moon-pale skin seemed to shine under the dim Spring sun, his chest heaving with shallow breaths as he composed himself. The wound was worse in his Fae form, so much worse. I swallowed back the tinge of bile rising in my throat at the distinct sight of bone marrow and tendons peeking out the gaping hole.

"Cauldron, I need to heal that now— " I reached for him, and the infuriating bastard jerked back. I growled. "Do you want to die?"

His chest rose, faster now, his large, calloused hands curling into fists in the mud.

"Because believe me, your death would bear little impact on me, or anyone else." I continue harshly. "In fact, under different circumstances I'd probably be more incensed to watch you bleed out."

"Then let me bleed, Witch," He rumbled.

"If you die, we're all fucked." I spit, crawling angrily through the mud towards him, my dress streaked in dirt and filth beyond saving. "Because you have no heirs and no powerful contenders in your shitty court to supersede you. It's just you. And as useless as you are, at least the breath in your lungs is keeping this territory from completely collapsing."

His head lifted as I stopped before him, and my breath caught at the first real sight I got of his face.

Cauldron, he was beautiful.

Carved with an effortless kind of regality, his face was a canvas born of strong contours and noble lines that screamed power. High cheekbones, a straight, precise nose, and full yet firm lips, curled into a snarl that allowed the smallest glimpse of the sharp, white teeth beneath.

But it was his eyes that stole the air from my lungs.

Vividly green, deep and endless, like the heart of an ancient forest. And like a forest, they were still, fathomless, soulless. They stared through me.

He didn't argue with my condemning words. In truth, he didn't even seem to be affected by them.

But he unfurled his fists in the mud. And it spoke the words he wouldn't say.

Exhaling a deep breath, I shifted closer on my knees, closing the final gap of space between us. My small shaking hands reached towards that gaping bleeding hole, slowly, like one would approach a wounded animal.

Which Tamlin seemed to be. Wounded. Broken. Damaged beyond repair. The High Lord of Spring was a shell of the male he had been.

It was almost sad. Almost.

He sucked in a sharp breath as my palm connected with his torn, ruined flesh, squelching. I steepled my fingers over the open wound, his skin hot and electric against mine.

"This is going to hurt," I warned softly.

"Careful, or I'll think you care, Witch." He drawled, head bowed low again.

"Not likely," I muttered, and I thought I saw a hint of a sardonic smile.

I didn't dwell on it. I didn't view him as anything other than something I despised.

I clenched my teeth, forcing my breath to steady as I unleashed my power. White, incandescent light poured from my hands, sinking into the gaping wound. Flesh knit together, torn tendons wove back into place, shattered bones fused seamlessly, and raw, ruined skin smoothed as if untouched.

The air hummed with magic, the light pulsing in time with his shallow breaths—until, at last, the wound was nothing more than a ghost of pain left behind.

His chest expanded with a deep, powerful breath and with the exhale, the forestry around us quivered. It was raw power. And yet I had the distinct impression that it was a mere whisper of what he truly possessed in his arsenal.

It was the crumbs of what remained after months of stagnation and stifling.

He groaned, hunching forward, his fist meeting the ground to steady himself. Instinctively, I reached forward, small hands gripping his broad shoulders and using my strength to keep the brute from collapsing and eating dirt.

An electric hum of power burned through my palm where it met his skin, so potent it prickled through my bloodstream and straight to my heart, thumping it loud and hard, again and again.

Ba bum. Ba bum. Ba bum—

He tore his body from mine, a snarl rumbling in his chest. "Unhand me, Witch. I'm fine."

My eyes narrowed into slits, palms curling into fists and retreating to my sides. "Yeah, you seem fine. Perfectly normal to keel over in the dirt."

Emerald eyes shot to mine, narrowed and sharp with anger at my sardonic tone.

"And you're welcome by the way," I spat, tossing my braid over a shoulder and rising to my feet indignantly. "You know, for saving your life."

My dress was ruined, the simple blue cotton stained with mud and blood and Cauldron only knew what else. The fabric stuck wetly to my body, clinging uncomfortably to every swell and dip and roll I had.

His gaze flickered from my face down my body. His snarling expression didn't shift, but there was a distinct flare in his eyes. Like a male seeing something that he couldn't deny, even if he wanted to.

Heat bloomed my cheeks, and I roughly cleared my throat, straightening my spine. "Guess we're done here. Try not to die again, High Lord."

I bowed mockingly, enjoying the grumble of annoyance that revved through his chest. Before straightening, shooting the male one last scathing look and turning on my heel in the forest and walking away.

I cringed at the blood caking my hands, cringed more as I tiptoed over the mutilated bodies of the Naga scattered around. I'd need to find a stream, or some kind of well, if I walked into the next village looking like a mass murderer I'd be chased off with pitchforks.

Perhaps if I—

A pained grunt broke through my inner thoughts and my feet stopped before I commanded them to. I turned back around and then huffed. "Oh, for fuck sake."

The High Lord of Spring was passed out on the floor, face buried in the dirt.

I hesitated and then trudged back towards him, cursing the Mother for my misfortune.

***

When my senses finally returned, two things became clear.

One: Night had fallen, meaning I'd been unconscious for hours.

Two: The loud, foul-mouthed witch who had saved my life was still here.

With more effort than I cared to admit, I turned my head to the side, the movement sending a dull ache rippling through my skull. A rough, lumpy branch pressed against my neck, its bark biting into my skin.

Blinking away the black spots that danced at the edges of my vision, my gaze settled on the witch.

She crouched before a crackling fire, her small, plump hands outstretched toward the flames. Now and then, she plucked a broken branch from the pile beside her and tossed it into the fire, the wood hissing as it caught.

My eyes traced over those hands—clean now, the dried blood and filth scrubbed away. She must have found water. Where there had once been crusted gore, there was only smooth, unblemished skin, her nails polished and pristine, glinting faintly in the firelight.

I recalled how they'd glowed, incandescent and pure, when she'd pressed over my gaping wound and healed me. The heat had been both excruciating yet relieving, the feeling of that fatal hole closing inch by inch felt like a breath of fresh air after an eternity trapped underwater.

She was a healer, though in five hundred years, I'd never encountered a healer like her, or any female like her. Brazen, out-spoken, mouthy beyond what was smart or necessary.

If I didn't owe her a life debt, I'd likely have torn out that viper tongue of hers. Or plucked out those sharp, piercing eyes that glared and narrowed and rolled as if I were a pest she had stumbled across.

Cauldron, the witch had infuriated me enough that I'd almost forgotten I was dying.

My gaze unconsciously swept over her form. Another distracting thing I would begrudgingly admit to. Her body was pure sin. A temptation any hot-blooded male would be unable to deny.

I rake down the spoiled fabric of her dress, the blue cotton stained red from my blood, dried and flaking. It clung to her obscenely, highlighting the swells of her ample figure in a way that would make any God-fearing male send up blessings to the Cauldron and Mother above.

Much to my chagrin, I was staring. Even with a splitting migraine, and a soul-deep ache, I was staring.

"Finally awake, sleeping beauty?" That viper tongue of hers drawled, and my green eyes snapped up from her body to those unforgiving eyes.

My gaze narrowed.

Her eyes rolled in response, and she chucked another log onto the fire, the flames crackling and rising high. Against the backdrop of the dark, silent forest, the amber fire kissed her skin, highlighting the plump curves and the tart persona.

"You're welcome," She muttered drily. "You know, for saving your life. Again."

"I wasn't dying, Witch." My voice rumbled out like a thunderclap.

"No, you just passed out into the dirt, sweating, heartbeat near non-existent and then didn't awake for half a day," Another eye roll, "Sounds perfectly normal to me."

I tried to raise myself onto my elbows. Tried and failed. A growl rumbled in my throat.

"You came back." It wasn't a question. Just a statement. As flat and unfeeling as my soul felt.

"Seemed a waste for me to make such an effort to save your life, only for you to die from exposure," She shrugged. And I had the distinct impression this female truly did not care if I lived or died.

It should have offended me, perhaps hurt me, but instead, I found it begrudgingly admirable. She hated me and had no qualms being up front about it. That kind of honesty was rare.

I vaguely recalled her words earlier.

"Bastard."

"I am trying to save your ungrateful ass."

My lips almost tugged into a faint smile, a flicker of something akin to amusement blazing to life in my chest. It was an emotion I hadn't experienced in such a long time; I had difficulty even placing it.

My eyes sharpened upon her as she began to walk over to me. Instinctively, I curled my fists in the dirt, feeling the pinprick of my claws hidden just beneath the skin. If she felt my hostility, my aggression, she didn't acknowledge it.

My face was steel, immovable, as she knelt by my sprawled figure. Her face was a mirror, I quickly realised—steel, immovable, and cold—as if it was her instinct to resent being near me, too.

She reached for me, a damp scrap of cloth in her palm. I jerked back, and she glowered.

"Stop moving," She bit out, "or I'll pin your overgrown ass down."

Cauldron, she was a demon.

Ignoring my deathly glare, and the flash of sharp canine teeth, she merely placed the damp, cold cloth against my neck. With more tenderness than I'd expected, she began to carefully soothe my overheated skin.

My breath caught at the first touch of coldness, like ice meeting molten fire. But also cause of the brief touch of her skin against mine. Those soft small fingers grazing my throat and collarbones with each precise, gentle stroke of the cloth.

Her face betrayed nothing as she ran the cooling cloth over my skin, water droplets running down the carved muscles along my pectorals and abdomen. Though she clearly held contempt for me, this female soothed and cared for me with a touch that could only be described as God's-send.

It was the first moment of peace I'd felt in.... so long. Too long.

The forest around us eerily silent, except for the distant noises of lurking animals heard in snapping branches or rustling bristles. The moon above glowed— Dimly. Like everything in Spring, it was dim, depleted, as if the energy had been sucked dry from it.

Because of me.

Spring Court was weak, broken, vulnerable. Like me. A mirror image of the barren landscape that was my soul.

The Witch ran the cloth down my sternum, and the tingle rippled like dominos across my spine.

"For a Witch, who obviously disdains my mere existence," I said, more strained than I'd like. "You're helping me an awful lot."

Another drag of that cloth, down my stomach, my abdomen clenching. "Would you rather I let you die?"

"I think you would rather I die," I mutter.

Those eyes roll again. "I already told you; your death would do more bad than good."

"If you die, we're all fucked. Because you have no heirs and no powerful contenders in your shitty court to supersede you. It's just you. And as useless as you are, at least the breath in your lungs is keeping this territory from completely collapsing."

Right. I was the last thread holding this court together. Ironic considering I'd been the one responsible for its downfall to begin with.

"Have we met before, Witch?" I caught her small wrist in my large, calloused hand. Pressed my thumb against her pulse point and felt it race. The only sign that my presence affected that ice-cold exterior.

"No. we haven't." She said, her wrist in my hand still. "Though I doubt you would remember even if we had. Why bother, I'm only a lesser Fae. Common folk."

Her sharp words had my fingers tightening around her wrist, not painfully, but firmly. "So, you hate me without even knowing me?"

"I know enough."

My fingers tightened further. "You know nothing, Witch, I am—"

"I know that before, you ruled this land like one would rule an army: with an iron fist," She gritted out. "I know of the tithe you forced upon your people, even those who could barely feed their kids. The sanctions you placed as punishment when the common folk could not deliver to your heathen demands. The utter lack of mercy you had."

Her palm curled into a fist, her pulse pounding like a war drum under my thumb.

"I know that you are the reason that Spring had crumbled to the ashes," She continued on her unforgiving tirade. "Some blame Feyre Cursebreaker for the ruination of Spring. But me? I blame you."

Something cracked open in my chest at Feyre's name. The old wound leaking blood, so much, I swear I tasted iron on my tongue.

"Listen here, Witch," I snarled, tugging her by the wrist I still held, until her face hovered over mine. "Control your tongue, before I—"

"Before you what? What, you swine?" She breathed, fire in her eyes. "Because from where I stand, not only is your power little more than a spec, but your strength is even less. So do not threaten me."

My claws inched out my knuckles as I glared this viper down. She didn't so much as blink at it.

"It was your stupidity, your arrogance, your entitlement over Feyre that led you to allying with Hybern, led you to 'winning' her back," She continued, "And the ruin she inflicted upon spring, upon Ianthe, upon your sentinels, and army... it was all your doing."

"She betrayed me," I barked. "She betrayed us all."

"Feyre laid the traps," She scoffed, "But it was your selfishness, your pig-headed, easily led insecurity that made you fall straight into them. You betrayed her first, we all know it. So, stop lying to yourself and me."

"You don't know," I breathed, fist closing like a vice around her wrist, talons pressing to the delicate skin, not yet breaking through. I felt like a fire was burning through my heart. "You don't know, Witch."

"Perhaps not, perhaps that truth is one only you, Feyre and the Gods share," Her voice shook, those eyes glossed with anger and tears. "But after? What excuse do you have for abandoning this Court, Tamlin? What excuse is enough to explain what this land has become?"

The pain in her words felt as raw as her reaching into my chest and squeezing my stagnant heart. My eyes clenched, from weakness, from pain, from denial. I wasn't sure.

Her fingers gripped my chin hard, shook my face, forcing me to open my eyes again. "Look at me! Damn you, look at me!"

I did.

Tears welled in her eyes, her plump cheeks burning red and streaked with tears. But still her lip curled at the corner, a flash of white teeth.

"The sun barely shines; the moon hardly rises!" She continued, voice breaking. "The very earth itself is dying, because you have given up. You roam these lands, resigned in your beast form, and each day this court suffers more and more for it."

My talons pierce the delicate skin of her wrist, scarlet blood pooling from the pricks. But she doesn't flinch at it— I imagined her emotional pain overshadowed the physical.

"And the monsters that dwell here," A noise akin to a sob comes from her and I flinch. "Do you even know what is happening in the villages? What atrocities the common folk are enduring?"

A fresh bout of pain speared my chest. I was feeling again. Fuck, I forgot how much it hurt to feel.

"Monsters— Naga, Bogey, Puca— they roam these lands, uncontrolled," Her chest heaves as she says each word, "But it's our own people, the Fae of these lands, who terrorise us so greatly. Pillaging villages, murdering, raping, stealing, burning homes and business, taking children and wives!"

Breathing became a burden. As if the forest around us disappeared, and the pain that had throbbed in my body and mind and soul had been washed away, all I knew, all I felt, was this female. Her sorrow. So strong, I could taste her tears on my tongue.

My fingers loosened around her wrist, talons retreating into my skin.

"I watched my village burn as they came," She cried, "I saw homes and houses ruined, I saw men slaughtered and their heads spiked on lances and paraded. Women raped and violated before their families. Children beaten and chained. Barely a handful of us survived."

Something wet and hot began leaking down my cheeks, saltiness bursting across my tongue. I blinked back the fog over my eyes, wanting, needing, to see her anguished face above mine as she raged and sobbed.

Cauldron, I was crying.

When was the last time I'd cried?

"All these innocent people dead, violated, lives ruined. And do you know what they prayed for? Begged for?" She snarled at me, a gut-wrenching sob tearing from her mouth. "They prayed to the Cauldron for the High Lord to come save them. They prayed you would come, and you didn't!"

My body jerked, and I damn near almost begged her to stop. Please stop talking. Please stop making me feel this. Please stop.

"You didn't come," Her shoulders shook, head bowing forward as she whispered again and again. "You didn't save them."

Please stop.

Her face blurred in my vision, a cloud of endless tears falling. I didn't speak; I didn't make a sound. I had nothing to say— no excuse, no reason, nothing that could ever undo this. Nothing.

"Feyre betrayed you, but you betrayed us," She breathed. Her head lifted, and those agonised eyes locked onto mine. A look of condemnation from a thousand souls. "You betrayed us."

A gurgled noise bubbles at the base of my throat, the muscles clenched so tight I could barely get down a breath. My fingers tightened around her wrist almost desperately.

She watched me.

Waited.

My lips parted, mouth opening— speak, you fucking bastard, say something, say anything! Nothing came out, no words, no sounds, nothing.

She scoffed, tearing her wrist from my hold, severing the connection between us, and I felt it like the loss of a limb. I watch her hand swipe across her face, smearing snot and tears angrily.

I reached out my shaking hand as she rose and stalked away.

"Sleep, Tamlin," She said coldly, settling onto a log beside the fire, her back to me. "And pray the monsters don't come out to play tonight."

***

I don't know when I fell asleep. Or how.

Perhaps from exhaustion, or pain, or perhaps my bleeding heart drained any reserve I had left until my body had no choice but to sleep.

But when I awoke, I knew two things yet again.

One: It was morning, and the dying sun shone overhead.

Two: The Witch was gone. 

___________________________________________________________

Comment to be added to the tag list!

Taking requests for all SJM men x plus size reader!

PART TWO COMING SOON!

@mirandasidefics @rcarbo1 @girl-of-multi-fandoms @tumblgirlie0210 @mis-lil-red @hyemishii @infintyfandoms @sarawritestories @eerievixen @nyotamalfoy @lewsnumerounofan @dreaming-about-fanfictions @sarawritestories @nottyourlover @bbycowboi @morganwdarius @marvelsmylife @justasillylittlegoofyguy @allyjoe755 @just-a-social-casualty-1 @eleventhboi @sfhsgrad-blog @glam-targaryen @firebreathingbishqueen @sindulgent666 @impossibelle @azrielsmate3 @superspideyparker @assaultsofthought @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @loveareum

[b00kdiary]

A Ballad of Flame & Shadow | Azriel

Chapter Seventeen Snippet:

Gods, I needed to get laid. The fact I was damn near soaked over mere second-hand lip contact through a fucking water bottle, was humbling. Solas spare me.

Nesta raised an amused brow at me. Stupid Fae senses. I merely shovel another mouthful of food and avoid that particular can of worms.

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

LITTLE QUOTE SNIPPET OF CHAPTER 17, POSTED ON WATTPAD AND AO3 (linked)

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[b00kdiary]

A Ballad of Flame & Shadow | Azriel

Chapter Sixteen Snippet:

“Don’t hate me,” I whispered, brokenly. “Don’t hate me, Az.”

A long, shaking exhale slipped from his parted lips, our faces so close, that I inhaled it right into mine. The act felt as intimate as a kiss in this moment.

“I don’t, Alexis,” He whispered back, his forehead nearly touching mine. “I can’t.”

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

LITTLE QUOTE SNIPPET OF CHAPTER 16, POSTED ON WATTPAD AND AO3 (linked)

Comment to be added to a tag list for more updates and sneak peeks like this!

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[b00kdiary]

A Ballad of Flame & Shadow | Azriel

Chapter Fifteen Snippet:

The tendril at my ankle skittered—not away from me, but forward—as if it would stand alone and shield me from whatever depravity Rhysand might unleash.

I wondered if Azriel had commanded it to protect me, futile as it may be.

LITTLE QUOTE SNIPPET OF CHAPTER FIFTEEN, POSTED ON WATTPAD AND AO3 (linked)

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[b00kdiary]

“Lucien wouldn’t look at Elain twice if she wasn't his mate”

And Azriel wouldn’t have looked twice if she wasn’t Feyre's sister.

[b00kdiary]

Just thinking about how when the bat boys were teenagers they were sneaking wine while Rhys’s mom was out of town and they spilled it on the couch and freaked out so hard they threw all of their magic into trying to get rid of the stain just to end up permanently preserving the wine stain on the couch

[b00kdiary]

I'm looking for a man who's High Lord

Wingspan

6'5

Violet eyes

[b00kdiary]

I NEED TO WRITE SOMETHING FOR THIS MAN ASAP

I found this sweet video on Tik Tok and I want you guys to feast your eyes on this:

Credits to LilyTea!! Her design for Tamlin is 🔥🔥

And the caption is real as fuck too.

I'M HOPING FOR A HEALING ARC FOR THIS GUY! Getting info from Hybern, fighting against Hybern soldiers to help the others, reviving Rhysand and telling Feyre to be happy is redemption in my eyes. He just needs to heal. To each their own though.

Tamlin getting a mate is fine to me but I want to see him loving himself, being happy with himself even though he doesn't have a lover, rebuilding his court, finding his own found family that could be a mix of faeries and humans (the faeries can be from different courts perhaps and having reasons why they left their original home behind and came to Spring), and being at peace.

One of the few times I see a good take on Tamlin's character on Tik Tok. Here's to one day getting this man to finally heal (and his court too)! 🥂🍻

[b00kdiary]

ACOSF BONUS CHAPTER

I think it’s interesting how people will argue that Gwynriel won’t happen because “why would SJM show an endgame couple in a BC?”

Yet in the same breath say that the BC confirms Azriel and Elain?

Also… did we not find out that Rhys and Feyre were naming their baby Nyx from a BC, which is a MAJOR piece of information.

Though that must not be actual canon since “not everyone reads BCs” and “SJM wouldn’t give us important clues or information in a BC” ….

Just pondering aloud 🤍

[b00kdiary]

EVERY. TIME. I. SEE. YOUR. USER. APPEAR. IN. THE. TAGS. I KNOW FOR A FACT WE’RE GOING TO GET A BOMB ASS BATBOYS FIC 😩😩😫😫

Cautious | Bat Boys (II)

ACOTAR Bat Boys x Plus Size reader

It's just as Cassian said: the bat boys were young and dumb… and fucked females in the same room as each other. Y/N’s in for one hell of a surprise.

Warning: Mature themes (18+), swearing, fluff, and smut.

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

PART ONE

I shrieked like Hell at the sight of those two Illyrian males standing before me.

And then I lunged back, a strangled noise escaping me as my hands flew to cover my bare breasts and I yanked my thigh off Rhysand's shoulder hard enough to nearly knock him over. I heard one of the males wince as I slammed my head back against the door, pain erupting through my skull.

I swore the other male laughed.

"Shit," Rhys cursed, a flash of anger pulsing through the haze of lust in his eyes. His hands shot forward, rings digging into my flesh as he righted me, stopping my legs from slipping out from under me. "Shit, are you alright?"

Rhys rose to his full height within a blink, mercifully shielding me with his tall, broad frame – shielding the two watchful eyes behind him. My wide gaze met his, tilting when he cupped my cheek, an anchor that calmed the racing, erratic pulse of my heart.

"Who the fuck are they?" I whisper-yelled, knowing and not caring that they heard me all the same. Rhys frowned, his hand now rubbing the sore spot at the back of my head.

"Those two bastards are my brothers," Rhys sighed, eyes closing in disdain at the sound of low laughter and shuffling feet. "The same two bastards who swore to not fucking come home – "

"I never promised to freeze my balls off in the snow, Rhys," That voice again – arrogant, smug, cock-sure in a way most young males tended to be around here. "Especially not so you could get off with some female – even if she is very pretty."

I blushed at the crude comment, watching as Rhys turned, flashing his canines at the male. I peered around him, my face ablaze as I stared across the dimly lit room to the balcony on the right – the door swung open indeed, showcasing the thick, roaring snow that fell outside.

"Don't goad him Cassian," The other male commented, rough and low, as if his voice was bred from a whisper of wind.

My gaze shifted to him, widening at the sight. Tall, lean, and broad, his scaly Illyrian armour highlighted his muscles. The magnificent, large wings tucked at his back were imposing, but not as much as the shadows coiling around him, clinging to him like a second skin.

His hazel eyes met mine and brightened.

"And stop fucking leering at her," Rhys snarled, furious enough that even I was startled. "That means you too, Azriel."

The other male, Cassian, snorted.

My eyes shifted left to his taller, larger figure. Unlike Rhysand and Azriel, he had a more rugged, rough-hewn appearance. With shoulder-length obsidian hair and red siphons contrasting Azriel's blue, he radiated arrogance in his stance and speech.

As if feeling my eyes on him, his hazel eyes met mine. And despite Rhysand's warning growl, he smirked.

"We're not leering, Rhys, we're admiring," Cassian winked, calloused hands tugging off his breastplate and sheaths and chucking them on the bed behind him. "You don't mind do you, sweetheart?"

I curled into myself at the direct question, cringing as I hastily yanked up my dress, my hands trying and failing to hide my breasts while I did so. Both males watched, darkness yielding in their eyes at the sight of me.

“I wasn’t expecting an audience,” I said after a moment, my voice dripping with sarcasm. Rhys sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to contain his irritation. “It’s quite... improper.”

Azriel chuckled, unsheathing a deadly knife stamped with runes and placing it on the side table. “Something tells me you’re not a stickler for propriety.”

“Well, neither are you two,” I shot back, raising my chin as a spark of fire flared within me. “I don’t recall admiring a naked female unbeknownst to her being part of a gentleman’s conduct.”

Cassian laughed, his hazel eyes twinkling with amusement as I met them. “You won’t find any gentlemen here, sweetheart.”

“Clearly,” I muttered, gnawing on the inside of my cheek as I straightened my dress. Their eyes tracked my every movement, and the thought of them witnessing that moment between Rhysand and me—hearing, smelling, watching me fall apart—sent a wave of heat through me.

“You’ll have to excuse my brothers' manners, Y/N,” Rhys said, his voice strained. “They see a pretty female, and all sense of common decency vanishes from their thick heads.”

Cassian nodded thoughtfully, crossing his muscled arms over his powerful chest. “Yes, we should definitely take lessons from Rhys here. It was incredibly decent of him to have his tongue—”

“Cassian,” Rhys warned, cutting him off with a glare. Azriel coughed loudly, trying to cover the laughter that had come rumbling out from him.

Rhys scowled at both the males like he wanted to rip them limb from limb. I stepped forward before he could lose his temper and do so.

“Is this where you all sleep then?” I cleared my throat, glancing around the decently large room.

Three single beds were neatly arranged against the walls, each with a cabinet and set of drawers. On the right, a balcony with wrought-iron railings overlooked the landscape outside.

I ignored the embarrassment clawing at my skin as I took it all in.

“Home sweet home,” Rhys muttered, and I was relieved to see the simmering anger in his eyes had dimmed. He glanced at me, a corner of his lip twitching. “It seems our luck has been rather poor today, darling. Not a moment of peace for us to be alone.”

I giggled at the faux-wounded frown he wore, my hands clenching into fists at the thought of what other things that peaceful alone time might have gifted us. Rhys’s eyes flared as if he knew exactly what I was thinking.

“Please, by all means, continue,” Cassian said, smirking as he dropped onto the first bed, the wood creaking under his weight. “We would never deny our brother peace—would we, Az?”

Azriel, his beauty matched by a coy smile, gracefully made his way to the furthest bed and settled onto its edge. “Never.”

“Fucking assholes,” Rhys muttered under his breath. But then... I noticed a slight flush colouring his tan cheeks.

His eyes met mine, and I sensed a flicker of curiosity in them. My heart skipped a beat.

“Continue… with the two of you here?” I managed, my voice barely above a whisper. Their expressions darkened as my words hung in the air.

I had thought they were joking but the silence, the way they watched me said otherwise.

“You wouldn’t be so cruel as to kick us out to endure the snow, would you?” Cassian leaned back on his palms, a challenging gleam in his eyes. “Besides, it’s not like we haven’t seen or done it all before.”

Rhys stepped forward, shooting Cassian a warning glare that seemed tinged with embarrassment. “Enough of this. Come on, darling, I’ll walk you back—”

“Meaning what exactly?” I cut off Rhysand’s outstretched hand, fixing an arched brow on the arrogant male. “That you’ve all... watched each other with your respective partners?”

The room fell into a tense silence, Rhysand's jaw tightening.

That was a yes then.

Heat bloomed through me, dancing with the tendrils of excitement and curiosity – and arousal at the thought.

“Just moments of drunken bad decisions and getting caught up in the allure of a female,” Rhys waved a dismissive hand, yet uncertainty flickered in his eyes. “Nothing I’d subject you to, darling. Let’s get away from these idiots—”

I took a step closer, meeting his gaze with a challenging glint. “Why not? Am I not alluring enough to get caught up with?”

A flicker of surprise crossed Rhysand’s features, his posture stiffening slightly as he processed my words. I nearly crooned at the heat that darkened his violet eyes as I smiled at him.

Cassian and Azriel went deathly still, their breaths held as I approached Rhysand.

“It seems a shame for the night to be cut short so quickly,” I purred, my voice low and suggestive. Rhysand’s breath stuttered as I stopped just inches from him, feeling the heat of his body and the firmness of his chest beneath my touch. “If I recall, you promised to be the best friend I’d ever had.”

“Darling,” his voice strained, matching the tension in his hardened posture. I could feel the strength of his arousal pressing against his breeches.

“You don’t have to do anything—” he began, but I cut him off.

“Now who’s being cautious?” I teased, my own heart racing with anticipation. Rhysand let out a nervous laugh, gazing down at me with a mixture of awe and desire. “You boys don’t mind, do you?”

I glanced over my shoulder, meeting the unnervingly still gazes of Cassian and Azriel. Fluttering my lashes, I watched Cassian’s fists clench and Azriel’s shadows coil around him in a silent, frantic dance.

For all their earlier arrogance and bravado, both males remained stunned as I bit my lip, waiting for their response. The silence spoke volumes, and I interpreted it as a yes.

My heart raced, a whirlwind of worries and insecurities threatening to overwhelm me. But I pushed them aside, forcing myself to focus as I tiptoed closer and captured Rhys’s lips with mine.

He kissed me back furiously, groaning into me as my tongue slipped through his mouth and battled his. I gasped, back bowing as his ringed fingers dug into the flesh at my back, roughly kneading the flesh before settling over my ass and gripping it hard.

I moaned and my core clenched when one of the males behind me gave an answering growl in response. Rough and lewd, as if unwittingly wrenched from him at the sight of us.

Rhys devoured me, his skilled tongue easily overpowering mine and fanning against me with such intensity I became a puddle in his hands. I began pulling him back with me, my fingers ripping at the buttons of his shirt, revealing the corded, smooth skin underneath.

“Shit,” He groaned as I raked my nails down his chest, toying with his nipples as we passed Cassian’s bed. I saw the male’s attention unrelenting on us as we moved, his chest rising and falling in harsh, broken waves. Azriel’s wings rustled on my right, and I could feel his eyes on me, as harsh as a brand on my skin.

We halted just before the middle bed, the only one left unoccupied—Rhys's bed.

 I wasn't entirely sure where my newfound confidence had come from, what had emboldened me in the presence of their eyes and desire. But the attention seemed to invigorate me, enough that I pushed Rhys onto the edge of the bed with a grin.

“These beds are adorable,” I purred, smirking as my fingers traced across Rhys’s throat, gently tilting his chin up to meet my gaze. He looked dazed, his grin matching the intensity in his eyes.

“You are trouble,” He murmured, his throat bobbing. “Such fucking trouble.”

I giggled, the sound feeling oddly innocent given our current situation. But Rhys seemed to enjoy it, tilting his head to press a long, indulgent kiss to my lips, slow and caressing, leaving me dizzy.

Beside us, I heard Cassian suck in a sharp breath as my hands slid up my chest, tugging at the puffed sleeves of my dress, revealing as much as the tight material allowed. As I pulled back, I felt their feral gazes fixated on the hint of cleavage revealed by the neckline.

“Azriel,” I turned to the male on the right, noticing his back stiffen and his eyes widen as I slowly edged closer to him. I couldn’t help but smile at the slight blush spreading across his cheeks. “Would you mind—”

Turning away from his silent stare, I glanced over my shoulder, subtly indicating the laces at the back of my dress. I swore his eyes turned an intense shade of black.

A second ticked by, and then another, and just when I thought he would refuse, his gaze dropped to my back and his hands reached forward and began tugging at the laces. I saw the burns on his hands, recalling rumours I’d heard long ago.

But as he gently tugged the material loose, his callouses and scars scratching against my goose-bumped skin, I felt nothing but pure arousal. A whimper slipped from me as he dragged one long finger down my spine, as if unable to help himself.

I wondered how his fingers would feel elsewhere, just how well he would touch me.

I turned back and gave him a small, lust-filled smile. One he returned with a darkness that made me almost climb onto him instead. I heard Rhys chuckle behind me like he heard that thought.

And that darkness amplified as I stepped back, turning to see all three males watching me with bated breath. The air became almost congested with arousal as I slowly, gracefully, tugged down the dress, inch by inch revealing me underneath.

“Fuck, you are – ” Cassian snarled softly, one hand coming up to rub at his face. It seemed a first for the male to ever be so speechless.

“I’d have to agree with Cassian, though I might have worded it more eloquently,” Rhys muttered, ignoring the scowl his brother gave him. Those violet eyes traced from the tips of my toes all the way to my eyes, drinking me in. “You are a sight to behold.”

I blushed, wrangling my hands before me, my nipples peeked from the cold air and a wetness grew steadily between my clenched thighs. Rhys leaned back on his palms; his hardness was undeniable before me.

“I think my brothers are considering murdering me so that they can have you all to themselves,” Rhys teased as I inched closer to him. A hum of agreement from my right. “Azriel’s considering killing me and Cassian, he doesn’t like to share.”

Again, the male hummed, his shadows vibrating with the sound around him.

With a playful glint in my eye, I leaned in closer to Rhys, teasingly brushing my lips against his ear before whispering, “Looks like I’m spoiled for choice.”

Rhys chuckled softly, his breath warm against my skin. I shivered as his hands gripped my hips, nails carving into my flesh as I settled either thigh on the bed, straddling him. I felt his length under me, a hiss slipping from his lips as I rubbed down against him.  

“Fuck, darling,” Rhys moaned, eyes fluttering as I reached down between our bodies and began undoing his breeches. I heard Azriel and Cassian shifting on their beds, their breaths sawing in and out as I pulled his cock free, stroking it.

He was thick and long, and my breath was tight in my lungs as I traced my fingers against the strong veins along his shaft, watching him twitch at the mere contact, his hips bucking off the bed. I bit my lip as I watched his body react so perfectly.

“Come on sweetheart,” Cassian said, almost whining. My gaze met his and I blushed at the feral, hungry gleam in his eyes, his own hips shifting uncomfortably back and forth – likely because of the ache of his cock straining in his pants.

“You’ve got Cassian begging,” Azriel mused, now braced forward on his thighs to watch every single action with clarity. “Rhys looks like he might be next.”

“So do you, brother,” Rhys hissed back, shooting the male a glare. But indeed, he did look as if he were on the edge of his control. I whimpered as one bead of pearly pre-cum rolled from his tip and onto my fingers.

“I’m sorry, baby,” I whispered, rising onto my knees and kissing Rhys. He choked on a breath when I dragged him through my core, the wetness so loud in the deathly silence of the room. “Oh Gods – “

I cried out as I sunk down onto him, the both of us gasping into each other’s mouths as he stretched my tight walls. It was a thin line between pleasure and pain as I took him, his size making me ache, but I was so wet, so turned on that he was seated inside within seconds.

“How’s she feel, Rhys?” Cassian asked, his voice rough and unsteady. I heard his breathing hitch as I rolled my hips, my head tilting back as I moaned at the pressure.

“So fucking tight and wet,” Rhys growled through clenched teeth. My hands braced on his shoulders as his hips rolled up into me, faster, harder. “So fucking good.”

“Rhys,” I mewled his name as his pace quickened, his hands on my waist holding my weight as he slammed up into me again and again. Cassian and Azriel watched unblinkingly – my tits bouncing with every thrust, the soft jiggle of my ass as I met Rhys’s thrusts.

There was something maddening between us as Rhys fucked me, something that made us both frantic and feral, teeth and tongues clashing as we met each brutal thrust together. I was scratching Rhys’s shoulders and neck hard enough to bleed and the pain of it made him snarl, biting my bottom lip in encouragement.

“That’s it,” Rhys praised, his forehead pressed to mine and our eyes locked as I rode up and down him, my legs shaking as I moved. “You look so pretty darling – doesn’t she look so pretty boys?”

I whimpered at his words, sweat coating my skin as pleasure coiled and coiled within me. Cassian released a long breath, and my eyes met his dilated ones, watched his chest tremble as he watched me.

“Fucking perfect,” Cassian rasped, and I knew he fought the urge to touch himself, fought the urge to touch me as I rolled my hips in sharp, desperate circles.

My back bowed dangerously as Rhys’s tip hit that sweet, devastating spot within me, spongey and sensitive and so receptive to his every thrust. I cried out loudly, my eyes screwing as Rhys took over, bucking his cock up, up, up relentlessly.

There were hands kneading and pinching my nipples, no, not hands – shadows. I glanced down and saw them toying with my aching breasts, their master grumbling with satisfaction at the sounds that came from me.

“Oh Gods – “ More tendrils joined, dancing across my waist and lower, lower, lower, and I had tears in my eyes as they snaked to toy at my clit. “Oh my fucking Gods – “

Rhysand’s hand curled around my throat, dragging my eyes to his and there was pure delight twinkling like stars in them. “You gonna come, darling? Gonna give my brothers a real show?”

His filthy words made that pit inside me tauten unbearably, his cock and those shadows and those eyes on me – it was all too much. “Rhys, I’m – I’m gonna – “

His fingers tightened at my throat, trapping the air. “You wanna come? Ask Cassian and Azriel, darling. See if they’re nice enough to let you finish.”

Taunting, cruel words. And somehow, my body obliged him, my orgasm halting at the threshold, as if unable to deny him.

I turned pleading eyes to Cassian and Azriel as Rhys ruined me, tears now rolling down my cheeks. “Please, please can I come? Please – “

“Cauldron,” Azriel cursed, hands clenching at his thighs. I saw his arousal through my tears and felt my mouth water at how big he was.

“Please – “

“Come, sweetheart,” Cassian whined, his wings spreading wide behind him. “Wanna hear you fall apart.”

Rhys angled his hips, in tandem with the shadows flicking back and forth at my sore clit – and it all ruptured within me.

“Rhys!”

I came with a desperate cry, my head thrown back and my body turning to steel as my orgasm rocked through me like a wild fire. I felt my stomach tense, my walls clenching and unclenching around Rhys as I collapsed against him.

Cassian and Azriel growled in appreciation as I fell apart, my noises endless and my body shaking and wrecked from exhaustion.

“Fuck, darling,” Rhys panted, his hips starting to falter, his damp hair half-shielding those star-burst eyes as he watched me. “Fuck – “

“Don’t stop, Rhys,” I begged him, kissing his jaw, his mouth, his neck, biting and nibbling as I felt him twitch inside me. “You’re nearly there, baby.”

He seemed to like the soft name, liked hearing it purred into his ear as he fucked me. Because that seemed to shatter his restraint, seemed to push him off that edge.

I watched as his hips faltered, his head lolling back to expose the strong column of his throat. His eyes rolled and his mouth parted, releasing the most sensual, arousing noise as he reached his peak. The sound reverberated through the room, through me, as if it possessed a power of its own.

He panted furiously, his head dropping to rest his forehead on my bare chest, and I felt the brush of his cool gasps prickling my skin. The air was heavy and silent as we caught our breaths, our sweaty, exhausted bodies slumping against each other, the touch just right.

“Are you alright?” Rhys muttered, his hands pulling back the damp strands of my hair and cupping my cheeks to look into my eyes. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no, I’m good,” I smiled, hazy. “I’m perfect Rhys.”

“Yes, you are,” Cassian voiced, a hint of something like envy in his voice. “I’m damn glad the Mother made it snow tonight.”

Rhys and I laughed, and his touch was gentle as he helped me rise, his cock slipping free as I did so. Azriel swore as he peered between my legs, where my release and Rhysand’s mixed and dripped down my thighs, making a mess.

“Az is still thinking about killing me,” Rhys smirked, turning to me to sit atop his lap, my back to his chest. I looked at his brother, cheeks tinted red and his cock painfully hard in his pants – he didn’t deny it. “I can’t say I blame him.”

I giggled, letting out a tight breath as Rhys wrapped his arms around me, his hands massaging my thighs and calves to ease the shaking. I had never experienced an orgasm like that before in my life, never experienced this moment before.

"You three are certainly something,” I teased, glancing between them. They all smiled now, adoringly. “I thought – “

I didn’t get a chance to finish my sentence.

Not as we heard the front door click open. Not as footsteps barged in – not as two female voices called mine and Rhysand’s name.

“Shit – “ All three males had the good sense to look alarmed, Rhys lifting me to my feet before him.

I was still stark naked, with his seed leaking down my thighs – and those footsteps were getting closer and closer. I met Rhys’s wide, horrified eyes and I frowned.

“Should we jump off the balcony?”

___________________________________

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[b00kdiary]

MORE BAT BOYS X PLUS SIZE READER (smut!!) PLEASE xxx

Cautious | Bat Boys

ACOTAR Bat Boys x Plus Size reader

It's just as Cassian said: the bat boys were young and dumb… and fucked females in the same room as each other. Y/N’s in for one hell of a surprise.

Warning: Mature themes (18+), swearing, fluff, and smut.

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

PART TWO

"Rhysand" I giggled, the sound drowned out as he slammed the oak front door shut and pushed me up against it.

He pressed his lips to mine, capturing my laugh within that soft, sinful mouth of his.

I gasped, back arching against the cold wood as his tongue swept in, the faint taste of wine invading my senses. My fingers clawed up his armoured chest, scratching and admiring the lean muscle he had gained training here at Windhaven.

He caged me in, taller and broader than I had expected, especially for a male of only twenty years. But his experience with females was more than evident as he kissed me, one hand gripping the flesh at my hip while the other curved around my jaw to keep me just where he liked.

A moan slipped free as his lips plucked back from mine, an insatiable hunger in his violet gaze as he dipped his head down and began suckling wet, needy kisses against my throat. I felt his smirk against my skin at the sounds he wrenched from me.

"Rhy-Rhysand," I couldn't form proper sentences, not as he nipped and sucked against the sweetest spot at the base of my throat. He hummed absentmindedly. "We'll get caught – "

"Rhys," He corrected, voice like melted chocolate. I bit my lip as he kissed up neck and jaw, before pulling back to smirk at me.

Gods he was beautiful.

"Call me Rhys, darling," He brushed the tip of his nose against mine and my eyes fluttered. "And no one's going to catch us. My mother is at the town hall, gossiping with your mother."

I giggled again and his lip quirked at the corner. A flash of sweetness behind the charm.

Again, his lips met mine, a collision of teeth and tongues and enough need that all my protests disappeared. Washed away by the feel and taste of him, by the way, his hands now brushed up my stomach, long, ringed fingers teasing under my aching breasts.

So many noises escaped me as that hand lifted higher, and I felt a charge of power course through me as Rhys cupped my breasts in his palm, a rough sound rumbling from him as he pinched my pebbled nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

"I don't – " Words failed me again, every sentence melting into a moan as he toyed with my breasts, grinning as he did so. "I don't think this is what your mother meant when she said to make me feel welcome."

He snorted and braced a hand over my head, the other moved to tilt my chin to meet his pleased smirk. I could smell the salt and jasmine on his tan skin, could make out the few Illyrian tattoos peeking out from under his leathers.

"I disagree, darling," Again that smooth term of endearment, and the smile he gave me as my thighs clenched shut told me he knew what it did to me. "I'm doing exactly what I was told – creating long-lasting allies, a friendship to withstand centuries."

"Is this how you treat all your friends then?" I quirked a brow, desperately ignoring the way his thumb swooped back and forth at my jaw.

"Don't be jealous," His smile broadened a breathtaking sight. My lungs constricted tighter when he leaned down closer, and I felt the unmistakable imprint of his hard length against my stomach. "I'm sure I'm not the first friend you've ever made, Y/N darling."

A glint of challenge in those midnight eyes.

"Now who's jealous?" I teased and satisfaction filled me when shadows eclipsed his eyes, the hand at my jaw tightening when I rocked my hips forward to rut against him. He growled as I did it again. And again.

"You are trouble," He chuckled, and I was molten in his hands as he pressed one long, indulgent kiss against my mouth. The kind that promised a night I wouldn't easily forget. "I'll take your lack of a denial as a personal challenge, to be the best friend you've ever had – "

I opened my mouth to laugh, but then Rhys clamped a broad, calloused hand over my lips. Silencing me.

His mouth pressed against his knuckles, violet eyes warning me to stay quiet.

And then I heard it - footsteps crunched outside, a gentle patter against the stones leading to the cabin.

"Let me just grab my shawl," A light, feminine voice called out. Rhys and I weren't breathing. "The weather's turned for the worst."

My heart lurched. That was Rhysand's mother and the look in his eyes told me she would not be pleased to find him here, find me here. This was definitely not the kind of welcome she had meant.

It all happened in a blur.

One second, we stood there, pressed against each other, his hand over my mouth and knowing we were absolutely fucked. And then the next, a cloud of dark mist erupted through the room and then Rhysand had gripped my small hand in his – and winnowed us.

It was a flurry of darkness and shadows, warping and twisting our bodies as we moved through time and space. He gripped my soft body tight, hands keeping me protectively close.

And then we were in a room.

I gasped as my feet once again met solid ground, the world spinning around me, my guts coiling in tandem with it. Rhys yet against pressed a finger against my lips, and I found myself cemented to another cold, oak door.

His bedroom door likely, though I couldn't see over his towering, broad form.

I gripped his wrist, staring into those wide violet eyes and straining my ears. I froze as the front door creaked open, those soft footsteps pattering into the living room, muttering as she moved. My nails carved half-moons into his flesh, a mixture of fear and excitement taunting me as we both silently listened for his mother's steps.

I might have been crazy, might have utterly fucking insane for how my body was reacting. But with him so close, being able to feel every hard inch of him and not being able to touch him for fear of being caught... it made my core soak.

Rhys's eyes flashed down to mine, surprise and mischief in them as he caught the scent of my arousal. I felt my cheeks heat and I swear he seemed to shake with the restraint it took to keep waiting, looked as if he wanted to devour me at this moment.

But we waited. Even if it killed us.

We waited, listening in suffocating silence as Rhys's mother waded through her home, items rustling and clattering as she searched for her shawl. It might have been a few minutes or a lifetime before she sighed, finding it.

I rubbed against Rhysand's cock again as her footsteps padded toward the door, getting quieter.

And the second that door closed shut – the male snarled and then was upon me.

My back slammed into the wood behind me, hard enough that the breath knocked from my lungs. Rhysand gave me no time to get down air before his mouth clashed with mine and his tongue forced my lips and teeth apart.

He moaned into my mouth, and I felt alight as every inch of him cemented against every inch of me. My hands gripped his shoulders, exploring and feral as I touched my way along the hard, lean lines of him, desperate to just feel him.

He seemed to feel the same, his mouth tearing from mine to bite and kiss against my throat again, his face slotting into the crook of my neck and mouth teasing the already bruising flesh there. I whimpered, eyes rolling as his mouth descended lower, my dress yanked down enough for my breasts to spill free.

"Fuck," Rhys swore, his gaze pitch black. My body burned at that look.

His head dipped and his lips found purchase around one taut nipple, drawing it between his teeth and sucking. He hummed and the sound travelled through my whole body, mixing with the desperate sounds wrenching free from my parted lips.

Rhys enjoyed my breasts, smearing spit along them as he toyed from one to the other, biting and kissing and worshipping them.

It was dangerous for us to do this still. Stupid even. Knowing Rhys's mother could come back at any point, knowing my own mother would likely start looking for me soon, that if they came here, saw us, even smelt us –

"How- how did your mother not know?" I managed to choke out, fisting Rhys's midnight hair. He continued twirling his tongue around my sensitive nipple as if he hadn't heard me. "She must have smelt it – "

"Why are we talking about my mother?" Rhys groaned, lips curling into a disgruntled frown. I yanked at his hair, forcing his face back up to mine, and he sighed at the persistence in my doe eyes. "Magic – that cloud of mist? It's a little trick to make sure none can sense me, sense us."

I hummed in understanding, opening my mouth to ask another question. But then his hand curved down my stomach and my breath hitched as he slowly pulled my dress higher, exposing my legs to the cold air. I shivered as his hand traced my bare skin, closer and closer to where I needed him.

"Did that placate your curiosity?" He teased, fingers trailing in and out, until my core was clenched with need.

"Don't be an ass," I scowled, hips shifting, trying to force some contact. But Rhys just smiled, drawing faint circles at the apex of my thigh. "We nearly got caught, I'm being cautious – "

"Cautious? Is that what it was?" He arched a thick brow at me, and my back curved when he ran the pad of his thumb over the front of my panties, feeling the dampness there. "Do you always get this wet when cautious?"

Any smart retort I had died on my lips as Rhys pressed his thumb against my clit and began slowly rubbing circles over the thin cloth. I moaned, and his grin was victorious, his dark gaze half-shielded by the strands of his hair tousled forward.

He seemed no longer in the mood to tease me, and I was glad for it as I dragged his mouth back to mine. A grumble of approval from him as he lazily rubbed at my clit, his mouth moving just as lazily against mine.

"Rhys," I pleaded, hips grinding down against his palm needing more friction. And he obliged me, no, he more than obliged me.

I watched as this half-Illyrian, half-High Fae male, the next High Lord of the Night Court, possibly the most powerful High Lord to ever be, dropped to his knees before me.

He looked up at me through thick, dark lashes, that mischief and desire in his eyes enough to make me climax alone. But then he lifted my soft thigh and hooked it over one broad shoulder and growled as he pushed my dress back and revealed my white underthings, a wet spot painfully obvious in the centre.

The wooden door handle dug into my spine, but I couldn't do anything but lean against it, my chest rising and falling in waves as I stared down at him before me.

His low position exposed the Fae light in the room, and it glistened over his tan skin and feral smile as he brushed his thumb over the thin material again. I bit my lip hard enough to bleed as he slipped a finger under the material and tugged it to the side.

"Cauldron," Rhys groaned, a low, appreciative noise as he eyed my exposed, wet core. "Look at you."

My cheeks heated, a mixture of arousal and embarrassment, suddenly feeling very exposed. Rhys kissed my inner thigh, playfully nipping at the flesh there, forever able to calm any raging emotions within me.

My nails cracked against the wall as his soft lips trailed higher, closer and closer to my centre. I couldn't contain my breathless moan when his mouth met that forbidden spot, and he dragged a slow, deliberate lick up my core.

"Rhys," I could barely hear my voice over the pounding in my heart. Could barely hear it over the soft, sensual growl Rhysand emitted at the first taste of me.

And as if that taste was better than he could imagine, he went back in for another. And then another. And another. Until he was licking and suckling his tongue back and forth against my sore clit, wrenching sounds that were unmistakably lewd.

"Careful, darling," Rhys chuckled, pulling back from between my legs just far enough for me to see his dilated pupils and the wetness coating his smile. "If you moan any louder, we'll definitely get caught."

I didn't have the chance to respond before Rhys plucked my clit between his lips again, all thoughts eddying from my mind as pleasure knitted through my core, painfully tight. My head thudded back against the door, my hips grinding down against Rhys's tongue, chasing that familiar high.

My fingers laced through his hair and Rhys hummed as I tugged at the strands, my body acting of its own accord, now riding his face, riding his tongue. I felt something tauten within me, and my legs began to shake as my climax approached faster and faster.

"Rhys," I gasped, back bowing. "Rhys, I – "

"I know, I know," He purred, the vibration running through me. "Just let go, darling."

He flicked his tongue hard and fast, and my mouth parted in a desperate cry as my release slammed into me, knocking the air from my lungs. My body stilled, thighs closing around his head instinctively, and I was near sobbing his name as I fell apart.

Rhys kept going through it. Held me like he wished to make this moment last an eternity.

The stars exploding across my vision dimmed, fading as I sagged back against the door.

I giggled, half-gasping as I pushed at his head, my body writhing as I forced his mouth off me. Rhys laughed, low and sultry, before eventually relenting, plucking back and licking the moisture from his lips.

I peered down at him, sweating and dizzy. The male was a sight for sore eyes, grinning up at me, as he watched me catch my breath.

“That wasn’t very cautious of you, darling,” Rhys smirked, stars twinkling in his eyes. “It’s a miracle no one heard you.”

I bit my lip, laughing as I stared down at the male, my orgasm fogging every sense and making it impossible to retort anything nearly witty enough back.

“Oh, you were heard,” A rough voice drawled the words. Yet Rhysand’s mouth didn’t move. “It’s a good thing we’re so good at keeping secrets, eh Rhys?”

My heart stopped as I lifted my head, following that smug voice.

And saw two Illyrian males before us.

Watching us. Watching me.

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

Comment to be added to the tag list!

Taking requests for all SJM men x plus size reader!

PART TWO

@mirandasidefics @rcarbo1 @girl-of-multi-fandoms @tumblgirlie0210 @mis-lil-red @hyemishii @infintyfandoms @sarawritestories @eerievixen @nyotamalfoy @lewsnumerounofan @dreaming-about-fanfictions @sarawritestories @nottyourlover @bbycowboi @morganwdarius @marvelsmylife @justasillylittlegoofyguy @allyjoe755 @just-a-social-casualty-1 @eleventhboi @sfhsgrad-blog @glam-targaryen @firebreathingbishqueen @sindulgent666 @impossibelle @azrielsmate3 @superspideyparker

@assaultsofthought @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @loveareum

[b00kdiary]

And if I say SJM is taking Azriel on the same romantic journey as Chaol….

Mor is his Aelin. He truly loved her. It was real to him. But due to circumstances he has to let her go.

Elain is his Nesryn. Mutual attraction but the relationship is clearly going nowhere.

Gwyn is his Yrene. The one he never saw coming.

[b00kdiary]

the mother and the cauldron

The mother: Say it slowly, so I can get it. What did the Archeron girl said?

The Cauldron: she said that she doesn't want a fae for a mate. Or a mate.

The mother: she doesn't want a-? Is she nuts? I gave her the best one I have!

The Cauldron: She's a bit traumatized, but she's nice.

The mother: I know she's a bit traumatized! But he is-he's- has she seen him? He's perfect! Even I want him as a mate!

The Cauldron: I know. How do we fix it?

The mother: not a mate, not A MATE! Well,give them forced proximity, give them pent up desire, give them loneliness, give them hormones! Make her see him shirtless! Make her see him shirtless and sweating and with his hair on a bun!

The cauldron: I like that! That's nice! Should we do the one bed trope?

The mother: Smart! I love it! She's gonna be eating out of his palm soon enough.

The cauldron: he's gonna be eating her soon enough.

[b00kdiary]

The Bat Boys - A Court Of Thorns And Roses

Artist: gracerstudios

[b00kdiary]

Oh Amarantha would have HATED me, I would have said I love you to Tamlin quicker than he could explain where we even are. You're telling me I don't have to go to work anymore, I get a free house, free beautiful clothes, free ability to do whatever I want and pursue any passion, without any form of responsibility ever again.

I would be sitting at that dining table, heard him tell me, and said I love you; his mask would have just fallen off like a painting horribly attached to a wall. Amarantha would be bald from pulling her hair out.

[b00kdiary]

SCREAMING

Flour Prints | Azriel x reader

Summary: Azriel and his love recreate Feysand’s infamous paint scene and take an important step in their relationship.

This is part of my oneshot-series Crush and can be read separately.

A/N: On today’s episode of “wishing this was me” lmao. This is basically the paint scene only with cake batter and it’s SAPPY. CORNY. A FLUFF FEST. (Based on this lovely request by @loving-and-dreaming)

Word count: ~4k

Warnings: SMUT (18+), teeth-rotting fluff, language

-

Azriel had never known the joys of simple domesticity. He’d never known freshly baked cakes set out on the windowsill to cool. He’d never known evenings spent on the couch, wrapped up in the arms of another with his eyes drooping closed from comfort alone. And he’d certainly never known the pure warmth of coming home to someone.

As he opened the door to Y/N’s house with the key she’d given him a few weeks prior, a sweet scent brushed his nose, closely followed by a soft voice humming a slow tune.

At once, Azriel’s shadows vanished from his side, and it was only a few short seconds later that a delighted giggle rang from the kitchen.

With a smile he never seemed able to shake once he set foot in her home, Azriel rounded the corner to find his shadows circling her wrists, slithering against the side of her neck, and curling through her hair while she chuckled to herself.

When she looked up from the mixing bowl she held, her eyes brightened considerably, and Azriel’s heart promptly stumbled. He’d never grow tired of the way her face lit up when she looked at him. He’d never grow tired of her eyes.

Crossing the short width of her home with a few wide strides, Azriel rounded the small kitchen isle she was working on to stand directly behind her.

“Good evening, my love,” he hummed, leaning in to bury his nose in her hair as he peeked down at her working hands, at nimble fingers mixing runny batter, and smooth rounded nails covered in flour. “What are you making?”

“Cakes,” she replied simply, though he could hear the smile in her voice. It made him giddy. Made his heart race. Made his hands flex at his sides with the need to touch her.

“Plural?”

Y/N tilted her head towards the oven, and when Azriel’s gaze followed in the same direction, he spotted a simple round cake form already baking over gleaming coals. By the looks of it and the state of the still liquid batter, it could not have been in there for very long.

“What’s the occasion?”

Azriel kept his hands to himself as he asked, fingers interlocked behind his back to exercise restraint. Sometimes, he worried he’d come across as overbearing … clingy perhaps. And so, he simply relished in the scent of her hair as he closed his eyes.

“It’s a test run,” she explained, hands still mixing. “A lady came in today and ordered a five-tiered cake for her mating ceremony next week. I’ve never gone past three tiers, so I figured I’d practice before tackling the real thing.”

“Smart,” Azriel said, trailing his eyes along thin wooden sticks he knew she’d later use for construction, along bags of flour, and cartons of eggs. He marvelled at the organised mess on the counter, at the ingredients that flew around everywhere, yet all seemed to hold a very specific position for her to reach.

“Hmm,” she hummed, before adding with mischief in her tone, “so are you going to kiss me or … ?”

A grin split Azriel’s face in two when his arms finally shot forward to wrap around her waist and pull her close to his front. She turned her head at once and when Azriel bent down to capture her lips, a breath left his throat that sounded suspiciously close to a content moan.

She smiled against him, busy hands halting in their movements.

When Azriel broke away to instead press kisses along her jaw, she tilted her head willingly to have his lips slip to the side of her neck, and this time, a content little sigh passed her lips to fill Azriel’s mind with satisfaction.

“I can’t believe you weren’t going to kiss me,” she spoke quietly, her tone airy enough to curl the corners of Azriel’s mouth deeper into his cheeks.

“You looked incredibly busy.” Azriel’s tone mirrored hers as he held her, running the tip of his nose along the graceful curve of her neck. She gave a content hum that had his pulse flutter.

Glancing down, he smiled to himself at the blush pink apron she wore and slipped his hand down to gently tug on a corner of the flour-dusted fabric. “I like this. Is it new?”

When she turned her head to look at him, she was beaming. “It is. I found it in that shop that just opened up a few houses down the street from the bakery.” Her smile turned cheeky. “We could get you one as well. Then we can match!”

Azriel breathed a laugh through his nose, turning her in his arms and leaning back to get a better look at the front of her apron. Cupcake embroidery adorned the pockets on either side.

“I would look fabulous in that.”

She giggled, and her delight warmed his chest when she threw her arms around his neck and got on her tiptoes to press a kiss to the side of his chin.

Azriel was quick in capturing her lips though, kissing her deeply, properly now. Her hand found the back of his head, knuckles brushing his scalp when she twisted her fingers into his hair to pull him closer. At once, his mind began to swim as it always did when he allowed himself to lose all sense of time and reality in her embrace.

She gasped in between his kisses, her own pulse now matching the rapid pace of his, veins fluttering against Azriel’s fingers when he brushed them along the side of her neck.

Azriel pulled back to look at her, and his body warmed at the spark in her eyes.

She trailed her palms down his arms now, never taking her gaze off his with her head tilted back.

“I love coming home to you,” Azriel breathed so quietly he was surprised she’d heard him, fingers curling into the back of her shirt to pull her even closer.

Her smile softened at his words, and when she tilted her head, Azriel wanted to melt into a puddle at her feet.

“I love you coming home to me.”

A smile flashed, and lips met in a deep kiss. Fingers curled into fabric, into hair and the crook of a neck as bodies pressed closer. She panted when Azriel bent his neck further down to suck the soft skin just beneath her jaw in between his teeth; moaned softly when his hand slipped down to grab a handful of her ass.

Azriel urged her backwards against the kitchen isle, and when he placed a hand on the counter for leverage, his palm made contact with something cold and gooey.

Panting, he had to blink to clear his mind of the fog she had inflicted.

“What the—” His face fell as he lifted his hand to watch yellowy batter drip from his fingers. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

As she followed his gaze to the mixing bowl behind her, a chuckle fell from her lips, and dipping her finger into the batter herself, she turned to press a wet dot to the tip of Azriel’s nose.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to overcome your aversion to everything fun and eat that cake when it’s done, Azriel,” she sighed with a mock expression of pity. “Because I won’t be able to sell that now that your big hand was in the batter.”

“Aversion to fun?” Azriel lifted a brow at her.

“Everybody loves eating baked goods, Azriel,” she said. “Honestly, sometimes I wonder how I even managed to attract someone who doesn’t have a sweet tooth. Baking is like my one move.”

Azriel flashed a grin as he leaned closer for the batter on his nose to hit the tip of hers.

“You have plenty of moves, my love. Besides, I prefer eating something else,” he said, delighting in her scandalised expression. He did not give her the chance to reply though, as he quickly lifted his batter covered palm to cup her jaw and pull her back into a kiss, lips hitting teeth as she laughed against him, attempting to wind her way from a froggish touch.

“Az!“ she laughed, craning her neck away from his palm while pressing her own hand flat against his chest in an attempt to keep him away. “You’re getting it in my hair!”

Azriel wiped his hand on his shirt, grinning at the palm print adorning the side of her neck and cheek.

“It suits you.”

Narrowing her eyes at him, Y/N sneaked her hand behind her back and just as Azriel realised what she was doing, a cloud of flour puffed from the hand she’d slapped right on top of his head.

Azriel stilled, staring at her as white dust trickled from his hair to fall before his eyes like snowflakes before a window. To his outrage, she lifted a hand to cover her mouth and giggled.

Azriel’s arms wrapped around her then, lifting her easily as she laughed with her hands pushing at his shoulders. Another cloud puffed into the air as he set her down on the countertop—brown this time. Cocoa powder.

She didn’t seem to mind as she met his kiss with a vigour mirroring his, hands tugging and tearing at his shirt until it came off to be flung carelessly to the ground. Warm palms were on him then and Azriel did his best to concentrate on carefully loosening the tight knot of her apron.

Heated eyes followed him as he stepped back to neatly drape the blush pink fabric over the backrest of a nearby chair, though movement in the corner of his eye soon drew his attention back to her. When he turned, he watched her pull her simple white top over her head, and for a moment it seemed a few of his senses ceased to function at the sight of smooth, round breasts.

“Azriel?”

Blinking, Azriel’s eyes snapped back up to her face to find a knowing grin edged into her features. He shook his head to himself, trying to remember that he was no half-baked twenty-something laying eyes on a naked woman for the first time, but a 500-year-old warrior.

“Hm?”

Tilting her head, she trailed her eyes down Azriel’s body, bottom lip sucked between her teeth.

Without saying another word, her hand inched towards a little jug Azriel hadn’t noticed before. It had rested in a steaming pot of water, and when she lifted it to her chest and began to tilt it forward, Azriel’s vision almost gave out.

She arched her back, and as molten white chocolate hit her skin, she guided the jar’s mouth along her collar bone for the liquid to flow over her chest in thin streams.

Azriel knew he must have stopped blinking all together at the cheeky grin she offered.

“Too bad you don’t have a sweet tooth,” she spoke quietly to which Azriel all but wheezed a breathless laugh.

His hands were on her first, finding her waist for stability before he lowered his mouth to her skin, licking a broad stripe up her sternum to collect chocolate with his tongue. She threaded her fingers through his hair, hand curling into a fist when his teeth found her breast, biting and sucking and licking at every drop of chocolate she’d spilled. A soft moan passed her lips when he drew her nipple deep into his mouth, and Azriel was done for.

The loose pants she wore were quick to hit the ground along with his own, her hands now more demanding as they pulled him in, brushing against the sensitive membrane of his wings with calculated precision.

“Lay back,” Azriel growled into a chocolate flavoured kiss, grip firm on the flesh of her thighs with his fingers itching to venture higher.

She did as he’d said, chest already heaving from wild kisses and exploring tongues, and when Azriel finally lowered his head between her thighs, her back arched as though on cue with a throaty groan to break from her.

Azriel closed his eyes—licking, sucking, tasting her with content little hums to rumble in his chest as he revelled in the sounds she made, her body writhing beneath his tongue. She gave a choked sound that vaguely resembled his name and Azriel could barely swallow his grin.

It took a couple minutes, but when she inched closer and closer to the peak, and Azriel could feel her hips grow restless in their attempt to withdraw from his relentless tongue, one of her elbows hit the edge of the mixing bowl to send the remaining batter spilling over the countertop just as her thighs began to shake in tandem with the moans that fell from her lips.

Azriel smirked as he rose from his favourite place in the entirety of Prythian. Leaning over her with a hand propped by her head, he lifted the other one to wipe his fingers along the corners of his mouth.��

“You’re making a mess, my sweet.”

She gave a breathless laugh, and next thing he knew, she smeared a handful of batter across the membrane of his left wing, effectively wiping the mirth off his face to make room for a blissful shudder.

“Cauldron be damned,” Azriel heard himself curse.

Her palms appeared on both sides of his face then, a spark in her eyes.

“Come up here and make a mess with me.”

Azriel did not need to be told twice. With a brief glance towards the kitchen isle she lay on, he assured himself of its stability—which it possessed due to being crafted from finest Night Court granite—before hoisting himself up with ease to drape his body over hers.

It was a tight fit—bodies lying between cups and bowls and jars of half-finished ingredients, feet dangling off the edge and hard stone pressing into joints—but as she lifted her legs to wrap them around his hips and Azriel pushed deep into her with a groan bordering on a whimper, they might as well have lain in the most comfortable of beds.

His breath came in short pants as he ground his hips into hers in short thrusts, elbows resting on both sides of her head, and lips lowered to catch her matching moans right as they left her mouth.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed flour still trickling from his hair, the first batter handprint he’d pressed to her skin now smeared and smudgy. Her fingertips pressed firmly into the skin of his back, a crease appearing between her brows when he pushed harder into her. A clank could be heard as his foot accidentally nudged a spoon off the edge of the countertop, but neither of them cared enough to break eye contact.

Warm breath washed over his cheeks, and at her quietly pleading moans, sharp jolts shot down his spine.

Azriel kissed her hard, kissed her deeply with his eyes screwed shut in an attempt to hold off a little while longer. He was on the verge of losing his senses, and when she whimpered and told him that she was close, he almost burst right then and there.

His fingers dug into her thigh again—harder this time—and when she curved her chest up against his and shook with a toe-curling orgasm to take hold of her limbs, it was easy to follow. Biting the curve where her neck met her shoulder to muffle his own desperate groans, Azriel’s wings flared wide, knocking over a bottle as he spilled himself deep inside of her with twitching hips.

“Fuck,” he cursed as he stilled, panting against her neck, and inhaling the intoxicating scent of sex, chocolate and her.

Silence settled for a while, and when Azriel lifted his head to meet her gaze, there was a spark in her eyes.

“Well, I certainly can’t sell that cake now.”

Laughter shook Azriel’s shoulders and when he leaned down to kiss her, his heart felt ready to burst with joy.

-

Water rippled against her skin as she leaned into Azriel’s touch, eyes drooping closed with comfort. He had his hands in her hair, fingers rubbing the batter from her scalp in a massage to draw an accidental moan from the depths of her chest.

She heard the smile in his tone when he spoke, quiet words hitting the crook of her neck in puffs of air.

“Like this?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

Featherlight kisses hit her shoulder then, sending goosebumps over her body in a wave. When she forced her eyes open to throw a glance over her shoulder, Azriel’s hands slipped from her hair to run down the length of her back.

His smile widened at the drowsy look that must have adorned her face, and her heart skipped a beat at the sight of his eyes crinkling in the corners.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly, cringing a bit at the tired crack in her voice. Azriel’s hands had truly massaged her into a woozy state of relaxation.

He tucked a wet strand of hair behind her ear.

“Of course.”

Y/N let her eyes trail over the wings he’d had to drape over the edge of the bathtub, her mouth twisting into a grimace.

“I’m sorry my tub is so small.”

“Ah, the smaller the better.” Azriel flashed a grin. “Means I get to press up against you.”

She chuckled quietly, lowering her back to his chest for his arms to wrap around her body, scarred palms spanning her ribcage.

“You can press up against me whenever you want.”

She felt the tip of his nose on her temple, and her eyes fluttered shut once again.

“Be careful what you offer, my love,” he mumbled in a voice nearly as drowsy as her own. “You might just end up regretting it when I won’t ever leave your side again.”

With a smile, she sought out one of his hands beneath the surface of the water and lifted it in front of her to thread her fingers through his.

“I could never regret it,” she whispered, admiring the contrast of their interlocked hands before plucking up all the courage she could muster. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

Azriel’s voice remained calm as he gave a simple, “Oh?” but she felt the way he’d stilled against her.

“Well, I’ve been thinking,” she began, feeling her heart pick up its pace in preparation of a proposal that could very well be refused. “I’ve been thinking about the possibility of … living together. I mean, you’re here most nights anyway, and I just … I really love having you here.”

She had intended to wait for Azriel’s answer—she really had—but at the beat of silence that followed her words, her nerves took over and she continued speaking before he could.

“It’s nothing compared to the House of Wind, of course,” she rushed to say without turning to look at him. “And you’d be downsizing from about 35 rooms to … 3. But we could get some new furniture to accommodate wings. Or we could get a new place all together—a bigger one. We could look for something by the Sidra, something with enough room for … well, for a bigger tub for instance. If you wanted to, that is.”

Her voice had grown quieter with every word to pass her lips, the courage seeping from her body to sink into the cooling water of their bath.

She hadn’t expected Azriel’s palm to appear on her cheek, but when he gently turned her head to meet his gaze, her breath caught in her throat at the overwhelming love in his eyes, shining bright enough to consume her every thought.

He held her gaze for a while, his eyes flickering across her face in a mixture of mesmerisation and hope—as though he was searching for a sign of insincerity, a sign that she was joking.

She felt her own heartbeat pulsing in her throat, and when Azriel lifted his thumb from where it rested against her jaw to brush it against her bottom lip, she drew a shallow breath.

“I love you,” Azriel said quietly, pupils blown. “Not once in my life have I felt as at home as I do with you.” Shaking his head slowly, it seemed he marvelled at his own words. “I would be … honoured to live with you.”

Y/N sat up to turn her body fully towards Azriel’s, thighs slipping over his to straddle him in the narrow tub.

“Really?” she breathed, face beaming as she lifted her hand to cup the one he held to her cheek.

Instead of answering, Azriel leaned forward to capture her lips in a kiss. It was an innocent kiss, yet it seemed to be the most meaningful one they’d shared tonight, with shadows bursting forth from where they’d circled their master’s limbs in a display of emotion.

“You might just end up regretting that, Shadowsinger,” she hummed, the corners of her lips curling as her palms slipped to Azriel’s shoulders, fingertips following the dark swirling patterns of his tattoos as a wave of joy crashed into her chest. “Perhaps it will be I who never leaves your side.”

Azriel’s smile was soft as he ran the backs of his fingers down the side of her face as though she were made of the most precious of gems.

“I could never regret such a thing.”

She leaned into his touch, never taking her eyes off him, even as the kiss of cool air brushed along her skin where Azriel’s shadows curled against her affectionately. “Do you have a preference where you would like to live?”

“Here,” Azriel said with barely any time to contemplate, which was a fact to drown Y/N’s heart in a wave of warmth. She knew that he liked her home—he’d told her so himself on numerous occasions. Up until now she hadn’t realised just how much he truly loved it, though.

“Are you sure you won’t feel too … confined? It’s not much—”

“It’s perfect,” Azriel interrupted gently, and wished that he could put into words how much he adored her home, and how much he desired to share it.

She was his safe haven. She was the person to drown out all the noise from the outside world, and to share the space she’d poured her soul into—to pour his own soul in right alongside hers—felt like it should feel. It felt like coming home.

“Then we will make it your home, too,” she breathed, raking her nails through the hair on the back of Azriel’s head and watching with satisfaction as his eyes closed in comfort. “I’ll make room for all your things.”

He gave a low hum in the depths of his chest, and in response, a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

She leaned forward for her lips to hover over his, whispering her next words with a quiet, slow, almost sensual voice. “But there’s a much less enjoyable task we will have to tackle first.”

Azriel’s eyes fluttered open at that, gaze finding hers with a flicker of heat igniting at her proximity.

“And what’s that?” he asked, his voice guttural, raspy as he pulled her closer with his hands on her waist.

Her smile split into a grin, hand tightening in his hair. “We will have to clean up the mess we made in the kitchen.”

-

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