#Seer's Vow

[brightblueflare]

WARRIOR CODE REDUX: Forest Four

Code 1. Do not hunt or trespass on another Clan's territory — Law of the Land

The canonical rule, now made the first because borders were the first thing established in DotC.

The creation of this rule is exactly the same way it was in canon: Clear Sky was being Clear Sky, and invented borders to make life difficult for the cats of the moor.

Code 2. A true warrior does not need to kill to win their battles — Law of Honor

Another canon rule, now shuffled to be created right after the First Battle. In the Blazing Sky AU, it shook most cats to the core, I mean, they had to make a mass grave they couldn't dig in A DAY. A law was made, the Law of Honor, so that no massacre like the one that happened that day in Fivetrees (canon Fourtrees) would ever happen again.

Code 3. Defend your Clan, even with your life.— Law of Loyalty

The story about Cloudberry and Ryewhisker remains unchanged. However, many cats have willingly gone to the Dark Forest in protest for this law, at least four, including Cloudberry and Ryewhisker themselves.

Code 4. The weak of the Clan are fed first — Prey Priority/Privilege

The story from CotC is removed. This is an extension of the Law of Loyalty. Warriors must provide for their Clan, and the weakest need food. There's nothing deeper than that.

Code 5. Respect prey, StarClan sent it — StarClan's Grace

A minor change: wasting food is sacrilegious, thanking StarClan for the prey is explicitly a prayer.

This was made for a reason: individual warriors may not understand that, if you hunt too much, you won't have any more prey, but this law exists so they don't overhunt.

Code 6. A kitten must be at least six moons old to become an apprentice — Six Moon Rule

Also known as Daisytail's Law, the story remains the same as in canon. Daisytail's son was made an apprentice young because the leader wanted child soldiers, she Didn't Like That, and the rest is history.

Canon!Brokenstar actually loopholes the hell out of this one. It says nothing about early warriors.

(My Brokenstar doesn't do that for Pragmatic Villany Reasons. I find his child soldiers horrifying but ultimately stupid. Small, weak kittens killed in battle don't become grown, powerful warriors, after all.)

Code 7. Deputy Must Mentor/Deputy Becomes Leader/Deputy's Appointed Before Moonhigh — Code of the Deputy

All canon, made into one big law to avoid redundancy. The origin story for these rules is the same: succession crisis in ShadowClan, messy conflict, false sign, and the law is created.

Code 8. Borders must be patrolled and marked daily — Right of Challenge

Instead of being a senseless law, it's part of the Forest Four's Battle Culture.

Borders are set, and Clans can challenge them as they please. Cats that refuse to fight are cowards, Clans that can't defend their territory don't deserve it. Battle! Culture!

Code 9. A warrior rejects the soft life of a kittypet* — Law of the Wild

Big change! No longer made in response to Pinestar's defection! Instead, Flystar (SkyClan leader before Cloudstar) codified an already-strong feeling, born out of his warriors defecting to become housecats while the rest of his Clan starved.

This is the last law added before SkyClan's exile, and the last one Modern SkyClan shares with the Forest Four.

(Kittypet is a slur in this AU)

Code 10. Seers must never take a mate or have kittens, and place their Clan above all else — Seer's Vow

Now a corruption of a vow, which originally had the intention of making seers value medicine and healing ABOVE their Clan. Added to discredit and hurt Larkstripe, the seer that protested the most against SkyClan's exile. Before that, there was only a gentle taboo.

Code 11. Gatherings are a time of peace, fighting is forbidden — Full Moon Truce

Added in response to Ripplestar's rebellion, as a way to prevent a battle like that from happening again. Before that, it was tradition but not codified yet.

Code 12. Apprentice Must Visit the Moonstone/Warriors Must Sit Vigil — The First Tasks

Another law created to encourage obedience, although in a much softer way than the Seer's Vow or the Law of Loyalty. Before that, both were tradition but not compulsory.

Code 13. The Leader's Word is Law — Leader's Rights.

The big bad one. Also named Dalestar's Commandment. The last law added in response to Ripplestar's rebellion.

Code 14. Kittens Must Be Protected/Queens Don't Have To Reveal The Father — Kittens Protection Law/Queen's Rights

After the drowning of Mapleshade's kittens, StarClan was furious, and summoned Darkstar (RC) and Oakstar (TC) to the Moonstone, damned all the lives they'd lost, and ordered: "Make sure this doesn't happen again, or you're next, StarClan OUT."

Oakstar Did Not Listen, and started the Crusades. But Darkstar did, and correctly realized that protecting the kittens would mean nothing if the mother had to reveal who the father was. So, Queen's Rights (to remain silent) was added as a law.

Also named Darkstar's Commandment.

[justaz]

arthur (prince of camelot) still has to study under a tutor bc yknow uther wants him to be very intelligent before becoming king or something bc its super important idk idc anyways merlin is doing chores in his chambers while arthur is squinting at a book and merlin eventually caves and asks him what he’s reading and arthur gruffly explains that its a collection of stories from greece that make absolutely no sense so merlin asks him to read them outloud to him. arthur of course teases him and calls him an idiot and asks how he could possibly help but does as he’s asked and reads the stories to merlin as he does his chores. merlin (being crushed under the weight of destiny and tormented by the prophecies that kilgharrah spews) understands the stories almost immediately and gets all excited and starts rambling about them with arthur. arthur is glad to have someone who understands so he can give something that reflects a hint of understanding to his tutor who accepts it and moves onto the next unit of education.

the thing is, arthur finds more stories in camelot’s library and brings them up to his room to read them aloud to merlin under the guise of completing his studies but really he just wants to watch as merlin’s eyes gleam when he understands whats happening and listen to him ramble on and on about them bc he’s gay. the stories stick with merlin though and he realizes that they’re cautionary tales, that the heroes who were told too much of their future doomed themself to fulfill them - that them fighting the prophecies led to their completion. merlin takes it to heart and gives a big “fuck you” to kilgharrah before forging his own fate and helping morgana with her magic and handing out an olive branch to mordred and now everyone can live happily and peacefully in an albion teeming with magic.

[sparky-kasane]

GUYS. GUYS!

PROBABLY A QUINKY DINK BUT IDGUYFVVVUYFSYISBZDUTHESUTESHSTE /pos

[the-big-cheese]

Oh so when ELON puts computers in people’s brains it’s “advancements in science” and “The beginning of the future”

BUT WHEN I, DR. ROBOTNIK-

[cressidagrey]

Looked to the Sky - Chapter 19

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was, however, Azriel‘s mate with her own mysterious, untrained powers.

Also known as: Azriel tries to court his mate the human way.

Warnings: 

THIS IS THE LIGHTNING IN A BOTTLE SEQUEL! SO READ THAT FIRST IF YOU WANNA READ THIS ONE OTHERWISE THIS MAKES NO SENSE!

Mention of domestic violence and without @k-godling this would have never happened.

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

The day was perfect.  It dawned bright and clear...the perfect wintery day.

"You are nervous," Cassian teased him. Azriel just glared at him.

"Of course, I am," Azriel gave back with a growl.

"And here I thought you had nerves of steel," Cassian's voice dripped with a smirk as he helped Azriel adjust his shirt for the millionth time.

"I do," Azriel shot back. "Or did you forget this morning? When I knocked you on your ass?"

"You caught me off guard," Cassian protested.

Azriel let out a snort, smoothing down his shirt.

"Yeah right," he said with a roll of his eyes. "Keep telling yourself that, brother."

"I like seeing the all-mighty Shadowsinger be reduced to a terrified groom," Cassian snickered.

"I am not terrified," Azriel protested. "I have seen battle. I've fought gods and lived to tell the tale. I can handle some flowers, and some guests, and some vows."

"Yeah, but you can't handle your pretty little mate in a wedding dress, can't you?" Cassian asked with a grin.

Azriel couldn't stop the heat that rose to his cheeks as the mental image of Eira in a wedding dress popped into his mind.

Of course, he couldn't hide the flush of his skin from Cassian, who started laughing at the sight.

"You're blushing," Cassian accused, a wide grin on his face.

Azriel shot him a glare, smoothing down his shirt again.

"Keep telling yourself that in order to feel better about your ass being handed to you this morning," he grumbled.

Cassian was still chuckling as they heard the sound of the door opening, revealing Rhys, who was clad in his own wedding finery.

The High Lord had a smug look on his face that Azriel didn't like the look of at all. "Finally got the groom into his clothes, I see," Rhys said, shooting Azriel a grin.

And then, his eyes were immediately pulled to his mother, standing in the doorway. Rhys had gone to fetch her just now.

She was dressed in her own finery, and she looked more radiant than Azriel had seen her in years. Her hair was braided back and pinned up, and even her green eyes were bright and shining as she looked over the trio of males.

She immediately came over and smoothed a hand over Azriel's hair, adjusting his shirt as he had done.

"You look perfect," she told him. "Handsome as ever."

Azriel's heart clenched at his mother's words, and he had to fight off a sudden wave of nervousness, even as Cassian clasped him on his back as he backed off. 

"Are you...sure you're alright?" he asked his mother quietly. She didn't often leave the safety of Rosehall. Esmeray just gave him a look. 

"I'm perfectly fine," she told him reassuringly, patting his cheek affectionately. "And you'll do great today."

Azriel felt a flush rising to his cheeks at her words and the affection in her voice, and he ducked his head to hide it.

"Thank you, Ma," he whispered quietly. "And you look stunning," he said quietly, his eyes sweeping over her blue dress and the hair pinned up with sparkling pins.

His mother's eyes softened, a fond smile on her face as she gently pinched his cheek as if he were a little kid instead of the fearsome shadowsinger.

"You'll make me cry," she said, her voice still soft. "And you don't want me to show up to the wedding with a red nose and puffy eyes, do you?"

Azriel managed to laugh, gently covering her hand on his cheek with one of his own.

"Absolutely not," he teased gently. "It would ruin the whole occasion."

His mother laughed at that, patting his cheek again before she reached up to fix the buttons of his jacket, and he tried not to twitch at the fussing.

He was the spymaster, for Cauldron's sake. But here he was, blushing at his mother's affection and letting her fix his clothes like he was still a child.

"You look wonderful," his mother said to him, her eyes searching his face. "I have seen you as a warrior, and as a spymaster. Today...today I will see you as a husband."

His heart stuttered a bit at the words, and he had to fight to keep himself steady, forcing down the sudden wave of nervousness that threatened to consume him.

"And..." he began, his voice coming out a little rough. "Do I...measure up to husband standards?"

His mother chuckled at that, gently patting his chest.

"You've always been more than enough for me," she said warmly. "And you've always strived to be enough for yourself. But that beautiful girl you asked to marry you? She thinks you hung the moon and the stars. For her? You are everything."

He swallowed.

His mother cocked her head to the side. "What's wrong, darling?" She asked him quietly.

"I don't...I don't want to be like him," he whispered.

Realization flashed through his mother's eyes at his words, and she paused for a moment.

"You are nothing like him," she said firmly. "Not one thing like him. Not in your words, not in your actions, not in your heart.

"I look just like him," Azriel disagreed. Just like his father.

His mother's eyes softened again, and she reached out to cup his face in her hands.

"You have his nose, my darling, and your hair is the same tone of black..." She paused for a moment, staring into his green eyes. "...but that is where the similarities end. Your father was cruel to me. Brutal even. He took joy in hurting me, and you. But you, my dearest boy, are the opposite.  "

"I did things," he admitted, a hoarse breath escaping him. "Things that..."

His mother gently shushed him, running a hand through his inky black hair.

"None of us are perfect, my darling," she whispered. "And none of us have perfect pasts. I won't tell you that what you did was right, but you're not him. You are a good man. A better man than your father ever was."

Azriel felt his shoulders relax slightly at his mother's words, and he took in a deep, steadying breath.

"I just want to be good to her," he whispered, his voice almost cracking with emotion. "I need to be. I want to be good to Eira."

His mother looked like she wanted to hug him then and there, but she settled for gently stroking his hair again, her expression warm and kind.

"I know, my sweet boy," she told him gently. "You already are. And if you are good to her, and care for her, and treat her like the precious gift that she is, then you are nothing like your father. Nothing at all like him."

Azriel let out a shuddering breath, taking a step forward and hugging his mother for a brief moment, burying his face in her dark hair.

"Thank you," he whispered as he pulled back slightly, his voice still hoarse. "Thank you so much."

His mother smiled again, gently patting his cheek one final time.

"Now go get married, my darling," she said. "And be happy with your wonderful mate."

Azriel had to fight the sudden burning in his eyes, and he looked down, afraid that his eyes might give him away.

But then a second pair of hands were on his shoulders, and he lifted his head up, seeing Rhys next to him.

"A little bird told me that you'd need this right about now," Rhys said, producing a glass of amber-coloured liquor.

Azriel couldn't help but let out a little bark of laughter at the sight, grabbing the glass and taking a long, slow swig of the liquor.

It burned going down, and he coughed as the alcohol hit his tongue. But it was good, and helped ease the nerves and the ache in his chest.

***

For all the thoughts that Eira had had about wanting a husband and children...she had never really thought about how it would feel to get married.

She never had had thoughts about a poufy white dress and flowers...

But here she was. Letting Azriel's shadows weave snowdrops into her hair, as she was perched at her vanity table. 

It was almost like a dream...like something out of a storybook. A beautiful wedding dress fit for a fairytale, flowers woven into her hair, and a mate waiting to speak his vows.

This...this was something beautiful.

The last snowdrop was added to the others in her caramel brown hair, their shimmering white petals almost glowing against her hair.

Eira stared into the mirror as the shadows moved back, her breath catching in her chest as she saw the flowers...and how beautiful all of it, all her was.

She was almost afraid to look up, afraid to look away from the mirror, her hands clenching against each other.

"You look beautiful," Feyre said softly from where she was sitting on the bed, Nyx on her lap.

"What about jewellery?" Nesta asked her. She hadn't even finished the sentence, before the shadows had already brought her that velvet box from Solstice.

At the sight of the black velvet box, she felt her heart clench in her chest, a bittersweet pang of affection moving through her.

The shadows placed the box in her hand, and she undid the latch, lifting the lid and gazing at the shining pearls, the glittering diamonds.

They were the most beautiful things she had ever seen, shining against the backdrop of the black velvet. Gorgeous.

Eira picked up the necklace first, carefully clasping it around her throat.

The bracelet was next, her hands shaking a little as she struggled to fasten the delicate clasp.

And then…then they opened the drawer of her vanity table and pulled out another velvet box. That velvet box. Those pearl earrings. The earrings.

“I can’t wear them,” Eira protested quietly. “I don’t have…”

But then the shadows already opened the box. We had them fixed. They are clip-on earrings now. No need for your earlobes to be pierced.

Eira stared, shocked, at the earrings.

Her throat was suddenly tight, and she had to swallow down the sudden lump in her throat as she looked down at the earrings.

They were absolutely gorgeous. She had thought that from the first time she had seen them. Pearl and Diamond. Simple and elegant.

They were perfect.

And the shadows had altered them for her. Changed them into clip-on earrings, so that she wouldn't have to get her ears pierced.

They had gone to the extra effort for her, had wanted to make sure that she could wear them, even without her getting her ears pierced, and...it was more than a little overwhelming.

“Thank you,” she whispered, biting back the tears. “Thank you.”

It was ridiculous, how such a small thing could nearly make her tear up...but it was just so thoughtful, such a sweet, meaningful gesture, for a stupid little pair of earrings, and -

The shadows twined around her, giving her a reassuring little nudge, wrapping themselves around her with a gentle squeeze almost like a hug.

She could finally wear Azriel's gift.

She exhaled, the motion shuddering and a little unsteady as she just stared at the earrings in her hands.

They were just...beautiful, and so very thoughtful, even more so now that the shadows had gone to such great lengths to make them accessible to her. So that she would be able to wear them, without having to go through the trouble of getting her ears pierced.

It was so...thoughtful...so considerate...It...It was almost painful, how much this small thing meant to her.

They tightened them on her earlobes and then brushed against her cheeks. 

She almost didn't notice that Feyre had gotten up until the High Lady of the Night Court stood behind her and put an arm around her waist.

"You look gorgeous," Feyre told her for the second time, a gentle smile on her face. "So beautiful."

Eira's breath caught in her chest as she stared into the mirror, seeing her reflection. The pearls and diamonds. The snowdrops. .

Feyre was right...she looked beautiful.

And she wasn't even wearing the best part yet.

The Dress.

The dress that she had made...that she had designed was perfect. It was beautiful.

It was white and silken, smooth to the touch and hugging her body perfectly...the lace and silk dripping off her like liquid. She had spent hours carefully beading the lace and the tulle with dozens and dozens of crystals and pearls...until it was perfect.

Beautiful, and flowing, and perfect. Like something out of a dream, or a fairy tale.

She reached out and gently touched the skirts, her heart thundering in her chest as the realization hit her all over again.

She was wearing a wedding dress.

It was something that she had almost resigned herself to never having. A beautiful wedding dress, with flowers in her hair and her mate waiting at the end of the aisle.

But now...now there was no turning back. No turning back as Nesta and Feyre closed the dozens of tiny pearl buttons that kept the dress closed on the back. As Nesta smoothed down the train that fell from her shoulders to the floor, the layers upon layers of silk and lace.

She looked up as Nesta stood, her hands smoothing along the beautiful silk and lace. "Perfect," she said quietly, a warm smile on her face.

Feyre was smiling too, her eyes sparkling a bit as she looked at the dress. Even little Nyx was quiet with fascination, staring at Eira from Feyre's arms.

And then...there was a single knock on the door, and all three of the Archeron girls went very still, realizing the significance of it.

Eira's heart was pounding in her ribcage so hard that she felt as if it might burst, her hands clenching and unclenching at her side.

"Ready?" Feyre asked her quietly. Eira tried to say something, but her voice wouldn't work and she simply nodded.

"Good," Feyre smiled. "Then let's get you married."

Eira forced herself to take a deep, shaky breath, her chest tight with nerves and excitement and love.

And then, before she could think too hard about it, Feyre was opening the door, revealing Rhys in all his wedding finery waiting behind it.

Every bit the High Lord, his hair slicked back from his face, and his suit dark and crisp, a warm smile on his face.

"You look beautiful," he told her quietly, a hint of a gleam in his violet eyes. "Stunning, little sister."

"Thank you," Eira whispered back, her voice a little hoarse.

Rhys offered his arm to her and she took it almost shyly, her heart racing.

"Time to get you married," he said, grinning at her.

Eira managed a shaky laugh, her chest tight as she took a few trembling steps. 

She couldn't see anything but Rhys and her vision had started to blur, and the thundering of her blood was so loud that it almost sounded like drums.

“Please don’t let me fall down the stairs,” she blurted out and Rhys laughed softly. 

“Don’t worry, I got you,” Rhys promised her, as they reached the staircase landing. “We’ll get you safely to that temple.”

And then…then Eira only needed to get down the aisle without tripping.

“Just hold on to me,” Rhys said as she managed the first few steps of that staircase, Nesta behind her managing her train. 

She could do that. Probably.

But Rhys was solid and unmoving and his easy strength meant she could depend on it and…

“You alright?" Rhys asked quietly, noticing her nerves and her shaking.

Eira swallowed hard, trying to steady her heart. Her palms were damp and her knees felt like jelly but she managed a nod at her brother's question, trying desperately to focus on anything but the nerves. Rhys squeezed her arm again, reassuring and comforting. "You'll be alright," he said quietly. "Just breathe."

She forced herself to take a deep breath, filling her lungs with air, and slowly letting it out, focusing on the feel of her feet moving on the floor.

“Please don’t leave me,” she whispered, her breath choking in her throat. 

There wasn’t a father that could walk her down the aisle. That had been taken from her along with her humanity, during that war. But if she could just depend on Rhys’ easy strength, that immovable presence of his…maybe she was going to be just fine with that... 

Rhys squeezed her hand. “You’ll be fine,” he promised, violet eyes shining. “I won’t let you fall, little one.” 

And he didn’t. 

Rhys gently squeezed her arm, his smile kind as he carefully guided her outside into the garden and then towards that temple at the far end of it. 

One step, and then another, and then another, moving closer and closer to these double doors and the room beyond.

It was like a whirlwind, and she was only aware of two things. Rhys's arm under hers to keep her steady...and the fact that Azriel was waiting at the end of the aisle, his wings flared behind him.

And suddenly…suddenly it was so easy.

She didn't notice anything besides him, his wings flared out behind him and his suit crisp and black against his dark skin and onyx hair. He was staring at her, his eyes wide with a mixture of amazement and love.

And she felt her heart clench in her chest, a surge of adoration moving through her at the sight of the male who was to become her husband.

She was barely aware that she was moving again, slowly walking down the aisle, every step bringing her closer to him. Eira hardly noticed the people watching or saw the soft smiles on their faces.

All she could see was her mate, her eyes completely locked on to him, and all she could hear was the thumping of her heart in her chest.

She heard the sound of Feyre behind her, laughing softly, and feel Rhys gently letting go of her arm. 

The only thing that mattered…the only thing that mattered was him.

She drank him in, her eyes glued to his, as she held out her hands for him to take and warm, scarred fingers closed around hers. 

The Priestess said something to her, the words were a little hard to process, her heart still racing in her chest, her breaths coming faster than they should have. But she still managed to respond immediately, her voice hoarse as she smiled up at her mate, grey eyes meeting hazel-green.

"Yes."

She heard a quiet, almost shaky sort of breath from Azriel, his wings shifting behind him, as he stared at her in wonder, as she heard with half a mind the priestess repeat the question, this time to Azriel…

She heard Azriel's chest heave with a deep, steadying breath before he responded, his voice like gravel, like velvet, the most beautiful sound of them all. 

"Yes."

The priestess began speaking again, the words passing over Eira like some kind of dream. She was too focused on him, her mate, the wonderful male in front of her that was hers.

This felt like something out of a dream, like the fantasy storybooks she had been reading as a child...

But the male standing in front of her, looking at her, looking at her as if she was the only good thing in all the world...that was very real.

A real as the priestess in her robes continued to speak. She caught snippets of what he said. Words like promises, and commitment, and love. Forever.

And always.

No one had every looked at her the way he did. Or loved her the way he did.

And then...then, finally...his hand lifted to her face

She felt as if the entire world stopped around her at the touch.

His hand was warm on her cheek, callouses rough against her skin as he touched her, and she leant into the touch, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them again.

His eyes were wide, his face soft with adoration.

“You may kiss your bride."

Time seemed to slow to a stop as she looked at Azriel, her heart thundering against her skin, her blood rushing in her ears.

There was nothing in the world that she wanted more at that moment than to kiss her husband.

He gently cupped the back of her head in his other hand as he pulled her closer, his wings spreading out behind him as he leaned down to meet her.

The second his lips met hers was like lightning striking through Eira, setting her blood on fire and sending a shiver down her spine. Her head was spinning and her heart was racing and her lungs had completely forgotten how to work as time seemed to slow down around them, only him and her and the moment that they shared.

His lips against hers, his hand in her hair…

And then, somehow, they had to stop, separating just barely, their breath mingling together as they slowly pulled apart.

Eira could feel her heart hammering in her chest, feel the way her whole body seemed to hum at his touch, the way her blood was still on fire, burning hotter than it had before.

She was faintly aware of the cheering of their family, the applause and whistles of the people around them, but she hardly cared.

She was far too focused on the feeling of him, her mate, her husband still holding her…She had married him....her wonderful, beautiful Azriel.

And she smiled.

Eira grinned, beaming up at him. 

Azriel stared down at her, his expression still wide-eyed and a little stunned. But then, after a moment, he smiled back, his hand curling gently against her cheek.

I love you.

The words weren't spoken, but she could see them on his face, in the adoration in his gaze,  in the way his eyes shone as he looked at her.

She could feel everything through the bond, every bit of his intense, unwavering love for her. Every bit of his adoration and affection and tenderness.

He was staring at her as if she was the most beautiful female in all of Prythian, and she had never felt more loved in her whole life.

"We're married," she murmured, her voice shaking just a little as she spoke the words.

"We are," Azriel murmured back, his voice rough with emotion.

And then he was pulling her closer into his arms, her body melting against his as he held her close, holding onto her like he was holding a precious treasure in his hands.

Like she was something to cherish.

He held her tight, his face buried in her hair while he took a deep, shuddery breath.

"My wife," he murmured quietly, his voice a soft rumble.

And gods, did she like hearing that. Loved hearing that.

"My husband," she whispered back, tilting her head back a little to look up at him, her eyes glowing with pure adoration as she smiled at him.

Her husband. Her mate. Her most wonderful, caring, incredible male.

She wanted to spend hours in his arms, the feeling of his touch against her body. She wanted to be claimed, to be marked by him as his wife.

His mate.

His everything.

She wanted all of his attention, all of his love, all of his adoration. All of it, forever.

Gods, but she wanted him. Wanted to have him, and be had by him.

And judging by the way his eyes darkened as hers glowed brighter, the way his arms tightened around her, the way his breath hitched in his chest....he wanted her just as much.

But first...first...first, there was their family descending on them, congratulations and cheers.

Through the wave of well-wishers and kind words, Azriel never let go of her.

He didn’t let go, he just kept her tucked against his side, his hand never leaving her body, gently touching some part of her. Her hand, her hair, her shoulder.

Even as Feyre stepped up, looking almost blissed as she grinned and drew them both into a tight hug.

"I'm so happy for you both," Feyre told them, looking beyond happy as she smiled at them, a genuine, joyful smile.

Nesta stepped up then, a soft, warm smile on her face, a single tear in the corner of her eye as she gave them both a quick hug before stepping back.

"Congratulations," she said warmly, before stepping back to stand with Esmeray, who was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

Rhys was there moments later, pulling them both into a tight hug and clapping Azriel on the back, his smile nearly splitting his face in half.

"I always knew you had it in you, brother," he said with a low chuckle, which he quickly quieted when Feyre pinched him on the side.

After him came Cassian, grabbing them both in a bear hug and lifting them off the ground for a moment before he set them down, grinning at them both like some kind of excited child.

"You're both married!" he exclaimed, looking utterly ecstatic. "I'd never thought I'd see the day!"

Mor stepped up after him, her face glowing as she wrapped her arms around them, pulling them into a tight hug.

"Congratulations," she murmured quietly, her voice tight with emotion. "Both of you...I'm so happy."

Amren was last, her face set in its usual cold, stoic expression. But then, she stepped up in front of them, giving both Azriel and Eira a brief, quick hug before saying, "Congratulations. I'm very...pleased, that both of you have found happiness in each other."

Esmeray was grinning with excitement as she stepped up, the older female looking utterly joyful as she gave both Azriel and Eira a tight hug, squeezing them tight.

"I'm so happy for the both of you," she said quietly, her voice quavering a little. "Thank you, Ma," Azriel said quietly.

"Thank you," Eira echoed, her voice soft as she looked at her new mother-in-law.

Esmeray just smiled fondly at them both, reaching up to gently pat each of them on the cheek.

"You're both wonderful together," she said quietly, her voice soft and warm. "I hope you're both very happy together."

She looked away briefly, her eyes glowing, before looking back at them with a bright smile.

"And no doubt you'll be having some wonderful children too," Esmeray said, her voice almost singsong. Azriel almost choked...while a faint blush crept up over Eira's cheeks.

"Mother," Azriel said, his voice almost strangled.

But Esmeray just laughed, grinning at both of them with a mischievous sort of twinkle in her eye. "I'm just saying," she said with a laugh. "I would love to be a grandmother."

Azriel groaned, facepalming as Esmeray continued to laugh.

And in the midst of all the laughter, all the joy and love and well-wishes...Eira felt an almost overwhelming sense of contentment settle in her chest.

[remxedmoon]

triplets born the throne awaits a seer warns of a deadly fate give up your children separate bide your time lie in wait sonic underground sonic underground they made a vow their mother will be fo

[juicedpeachy]

Imagining moshang in an au of svsss with no transmigrating, where Shang Qinghua knows everything he knows because he is a Seer rather than the author.

When he is young, he has dreams of a young demon prince who thinks he is unloved. His mother deceased and his father distant. His half-brothers and uncle out to take his life since he is heir to the throne.

It’s not until he is an outer disciple at A Ding peak that he realizes his own abilities. His dreams are glimpses of the lives of others and he occasionally has visions of the futures of the people around him. He learns, however, he can’t see his own future. His shixiong is the one who tells him he is a Seer and that he must heavily guard that secret to protect himself

But he continues to dream about the demon prince—who is real and not just a dream—who is steadily growing into a handsome young man, and Shang Qinghua is beginning to fall in love with him.

Shang Qinghua knows he will be king. He has seen that future where he is called Mobei Jun and when they finally meet he greets him as such. It strikes a cord within the demon to be referred to as king

Shang Qinghua is useful, as he promised. Informing Mobei Jun of this or that. It’s not long before Mobei Jun comes to the conclusion that his human spy is a seer and he decided he must be protected at all costs.

But someone else notices too. That trusted shixiong of his is found dead and Shang Qinghua—now a peak lord—is missing from Cang Qiong.

Linguang Jun keeps Shang Qinghua imprisoned and forces him to improve his future-seeing abilities in order to gain information on his enemies—including Mobei Jun.

Meanwhile, Mobei Jun tears apart the demon realm in search of his human—who is not only his most valuable asset but his closest friend and most trusted advisor (and maybe something else he hasn’t admitted to himself yet…)

And Shang Qinghua dreams of his king at night. His relentless search. He assumes it’s only for his abilities… why would his king want anything more from him?

But when his king finds him, Mobei Jun is a mess. He has slaughtered many to find Shang Qinghua and now he vows to the human to never let him go. To protect him with everything he is (and then they get married and kiss and etc yippee!!!!!)

[revive-the-fandom]

the dragons series had a lot of inconsistencies tbh and I've yet to see anyone spell some of them out? so I'm gonna be the critic i need in my life

Gothi

this childless Grandma is not a healer.

she is a Seeress or a Wise Woman. the Berkians canonically refer to her as The Elder.

A Seeress' job is to commune with gods and spirits (mostly thru getting high) and give advice to their King or Jarl (or Chief). Gothi does this canonically by being the final judge for whether Hiccup or Astrid got to graduate/get the honour of killing the Monstrous Nightmare.

Seeress' were almost always women, although men did occasionally become Seers, it was considered emasculating and unnatural.

Seeress' may also live in high, isolated places in order to be closer to the Gods, which Gothi most definitely does. They could also take vows of silence, which is most likely what Gothi has done, if she isn't physically mute.

Seeress' were highly respected and had a considerably amount of influence over their clan.

Berk's attitude towards the dragons

The end of Httyd 1 showed multiple people riding and co-habituating with Dragons. They had feeding stations (made out of old braziers), stables etc:

But RoB/DoB opens with the village seriously struggling to assimilate the Dragons into their lives, with the Dragons stealing food and shitting in the town square.

Fishlegs & Hiccup

Fishlegs is not Hiccup's friend in Httyd 1, he's one of Hiccup's bullies.

Fishlegs hangs out with Snotlout, the twins and Astrid and laughs along with them when teasing Hiccup. He may be a conflicted or opportunistic bully rather than a flat out asshole, but he's still participating.

Fishlegs is one above Hiccup in the pecking order, if Hiccup's not around to be bullied then Fishlegs is next in line. But as it stands Fishlegs is allowed into the friend circle, whereas Hiccup is not.

Fishlegs is the bully that needs Hiccup around so that he doesn't get bullied himself. He for sure wants to be friends with Hiccup too, but he's not going to risk his position in the group for Hiccup.

Snotlout & bullying Fishlegs

the series (The Iron Gronckle ep mostly) makes out that Snotlout has been terrorising specifically Fishlegs (both physically and verbally) to the point that Fishlegs has become meek and anxious because of him.

which is just blatantly not true, see my above point on Fishlegs being one of the bullies.

Snotlout is mean to Fishlegs, sure. but he's also mean to Hiccup, and on occasion to the Twins. Snotlout is second in command of this group's/generation's pecking order, and he only bows his head to Astrid because she is sitting solidly at the top (and he has a crush on her).

As soon as Astrid is booted off of her pedestal by Hiccup, Snotlout starts acting friendly to Hiccup. So does everyone save Astrid.

and once Hiccup is top dog, Snotlout takes orders from Hiccup, because Hiccup is the most successful and respected of their group. Even when they lead him into dangerous situations like the final battle against the Red/Green Death.

Snotlout is not The Bully TM he's just one of many bullies. He wasn't trying to single people out, he was just trying to fit in with the standard the adults of Berk had set, and one of those standards was bullying the weak.

Astrid & bullying hiccup

the series loves to forget that Astrid was the Leader of the group for most of Httyd 1, and she was at best a passive observer of their bullying Hiccup, and at worst an active participant. She shared Berk's views on "get tough or get out" and applied them to Hiccup.

Astrid took things a step further and started stalking Hiccup as soon as he started out pacing her in training. She pushed him around and hit him, while even Snotlout had only teased him.

Saying that Astrid and Hiccup have "known each other all [their] lives" in RTTE is true in that they have lived in the same village and grown up at the same time, but they most definitely weren't close in Httyd 1.

[weirdo-from-bonesborough]

Dark Knights of Steel rip-off au where Oracle is an actual Oracle. She lives in isolation save for the seers who come to study under her, all nicknamed “the batgirls” due to the shrine they live at being within a cave system. The Oracle’s two permanent charges are Cassandra, a girl who’s taken a vow of silence due to having the same curse as her namesake, and Stephanie, nicknamed ‘the Spoiler’ by her village because she is physically unable to not tell people her visions.

Barbara’s most recent pupil is a Duke from a nearby kingdom who’s lands have been cursed by the laughing blight and who is trying to master his various powers in a desperate journey to learn how to cure them.

[rejoyous]

Triplets born, the throne awaits!

Seer warns of a deadly fate

Give up your children, seperate

Bide your time, lie in wait!

Sonic Underground!

Sonic Underground!

They made a vow, their mother will be found!

The children grow, learn what’s right!

Leaders of the freedom fight!

They seek their mother, she knows they do!

Is it time! If she only knew!

Will the prophecy come true?!

Sonic Underground!

Sonic Underground!!!

I long for my children, but I have to wait

To act to soon could seal their fate

They made a vow, their mother will be found!

Sonic Underground!!!!!!!!!!!

[driflew]

I would love to see some blindsided au scenes if you have any 👀

the part of blindsided that's posted on ao3 was actually repurposed from a one shot about Ren and dreams/nightmares. in the ao3 version i rewrote the end and cut it short, but in the go version there were a few more scenes that went thru the entire timeline from ren's time on the ship to after he's recognized who "the captain" actuallyy is

here's the last line of the ao3 version that matches the OG version and then the rewritten / withheld scenes

If there’s a god out there, Ren hopes He’ll tell Martyn how sorry he is.

The thing is, it almost works. Ren hardly leaves his room, and when he does, he stays within the manor. Much of his staff leaves in that time, and of those left, he fires almost all. 

The criteria is simple. Anyone whose whereabouts the night the box appeared he can’t ascertain beyond reasonable doubt, he sends away. 

The staff consists of a few cooks, a few gardeners, a few maids, a few aides. Most of his attendants leave on their own—no one wants to be seen near Ren. 

Despite the small staff, the manor workload gets lighter. Ren’s life ends the same day Martyn’s does. 

It’s fear that drives him. They took his body, after all—there is nothing Ren fears more than receiving another piece. 

It keeps him in bed. It keeps him awake. He won’t risk anything, not a toe out of line. He cows entirely, and it doesn’t save him. Every night, he sees it—a box on his bed, his hands reaching without his input, something staring back. 

—

It takes a few months for sympathy to dry up. Ren’s back to doing only the bare minimum, running his estate and only his estate—staying exactly in his own lane. He hears his little staff whispering about it, though. About how it was bad, sure, but really, he’s supposed to be a duke. He can’t lie in bed moping forever. At this rate, they may as well give the title to someone else, someone less… fragile. 

That would mean losing the manor, though. Losing their home, losing the place Martyn spent all his life. Losing the dream he and Martyn made together. 

So Ren climbs out of bed. He gets dressed all on his own, dries his face, and vows not to let Martyn’s life have been wasted on him. 

He has no choice. 

—

It’s fear that drives him. Ren is afraid all the time. Afraid he’ll lose his home. Afraid he’ll waste Martyn’s life by not doing enough. Afraid he’ll receive another box by doing too much. 

But Ren can’t be afraid. Not where anyone can see him. 

So Ren is angry all the time. 

They call him ruthless, volatile, cold as ice. He doesn’t think that’s fair—he’s never sent anyone a severed limb. But if they think he’s ruthless, maybe they’ll think twice before crossing him. Maybe if he’d been cold then…

He burns, constantly, fire seering at his heels to keep him running ever forward. There’s no safe place to rest, and so he won’t. 

His dreams make sure of that. 

Ren wakes up gasping, hands curled tight around something that isn’t real. Sometimes it’s an eye, sometimes it’s not. A finger, a hand, a tongue. A head, one socket empty, the other bright and intelligent and looking right at him—

He doesn’t think he’s dreamed of anything but that box for a year after he opens it. They die down a bit, but return every time Ren is stressed. 

Ren is stressed all the time. 

Tired, too, absolutely exhausted, not that it helps him get any sleep. He works in his office to avoid it, staying up late into the night managing this or that until he sees deeds and bills behind his eyelids instead. 

—

He wants to move beds, but how could he? This was Martyn’s, too, was once the place he felt safest. He can’t leave it, even if it features so prominently in the worst moment of his life. 

Hiding under their blankets like it’ll protect him, Ren has to wonder. What would Martyn think of him now? 

He’ll never know, but the eye changes. He dreams of pity, an eye floating in a bottle of sympathetic tears. He dreams of accusation, bloody fingerprints staining the glass. He dreams of scorn, an eye that won’t even look at him. He dreams of love, rarely. 

—

Theirs is not the bed he’s taken from, at the least. 

No, King Ren is stolen from the castle, so as to be sure he never feels safe in any place he could conceivably consider home.

—

Ren sits on the deck of the ship, kneels at the feet of the Captain. When he looks up at the man who has stolen him from his new home, he finds himself eye level with a coat he knows very well. 

The Captain speaks of assassination, then of ransom. Promises not to hurt the King, so long as he can get money for his life. 

Ren wants to scoff, but he doesn’t. The only man who would have paid for his life is long dead, and the Captain wears a trophy of his murder tied around his waist. 

Ren knows fear. He knows how to bury it, too, how to smother it in so much anger it boils him alive in his own bubbling, frothing blood. 

He is so beyond the point of being afraid for his worthless, meaningless life. If he can make the Captain bleed, then it will all have been worth it. 

—

(Ren does not sleep. The only man who would have paid his ransom is dead—soon they will realize, and soon he will die. He’s sure of it. He locks the door to his pathetic facsimile of a sanctuary and hopes every single night that tonight will not be the night they notice.)

(Ren does not sleep until he cannot stay awake a moment longer.)

—

The Captain stands in front of him, a box in hand. 

“I’ve got a gift for you,” he says, holding it out. Ren recognizes the box, but takes it anyway, his hands so far out of his control. 

“You know,” he says, amusement in his voice, watching Ren with one cruel eye, “I’m always looking out for you.” 

He smiles as Ren’s hand moves to the top of the box against his will, stepping forward when Ren’s hands hesitate on the latch. He guides Ren’s hands to open it, puppeting numb fingers. 

“You’re lucky,” he says, “That I like to keep things like this.”

Ren looks down. There’s a heart, thumping quietly, pulsing to the same rhythm rushing in Ren’s own ears. He doesn’t need to be told who it belongs to. He knew the moment he saw the box. 

“Don’t be shy, your majesty. Take it,” The Captain says, voice sickly sweet, “I know you’ve always wanted it.” 

Ren wakes up gasping. It sounds so loud in the cramped closet, but he can’t make himself calm down. His heart beats so fast he thinks it might kill him, and the awareness of his pulse is enough to send him falling out of his hammock. 

—

Impulse finds him in their storage the next morning, looking in every large box for something he won’t explain. The Captain simply sighs, sends him back up top, and asks his crew to be sure to lock the hatches. 

— 

Ren approaches the bed slowly. The box on the covers is longer than Ren is tall, broader than Ren’s shoulders. It takes up most of the bed, which sinks under the weight of it. His hands reach for the familiar latch without his input, not that he’d fight—he’s long since learned it isn’t worth it. 

The lid is light—it’s only ever been flimsy packaging. He pushes it with no effort at all, peering down into the box. 

It’s full of glass cases and jars. Ren’s eyes roam over them with horror, but he knows what’s in all of them. It’s the rest, it’s—

“Ren? Hey, Ren wake up,” there’s a hand on Ren’s shoulder, shaking him awake. “Open your eyes. Can you do that for me?”

Ren complies. Martyn is sitting above him, hair hanging around his face. Ren meets his eye—he’s staring at Ren with undisguised concern. 

Ren follows the line of his scar down his face and to his chest, where it disappears into his loose shirt. 

“Uh,” Martyn clears his throat, “While I don’t mind you staring, you seemed to be having a bad dream.” 

“Do you know what happened to your eye?” Ren asks, “The other one. The one you lost.” 

“Uh?” Martyn blinks the one he has left. “Can’t say I do, no.” 

“Oh,” Ren says. 

“Why?” Martyn asks, then grins, teasing, “Did you want it?” 

Ren isn’t sure what his face does at that, but Martyn’s smile vanishes, and he’s rolling away from Ren to get out of bed entirely, leaving Ren to sit up and stare after him. Before Ren can ask him to come back, he’s returned, this time with his trash bin in hand and under Ren’s mouth. 

A beat passes. Martyn retracts the bin. 

 “You just. Looked like you were going to be sick,” Martyn says, setting it down. “It’s… We’ve only got the one bed, and it’s really hard to do wash out at sea.” 

Ren snickers as Martyn climbs back into bed, sitting at Ren’s side. 

“Did my eye have something to do with whatever you were dreaming about?” Martyn asks. Ren nods. 

“I don’t think you could have said anything worse,” Ren admits. 

“Why?” Martyn asks, “What, don’t tell me you already had it.”

Again, Ren isn’t sure how he reacts, though he’s sure by the way Martyn pales that he sees right through Ren’s attempt to keep his face straight. 

Seems even all his years walling himself off weren’t enough to keep his Hand from reading him like he’s made of glass. 

“You’re kidding,” Martyn says. Ren shakes his head. 

“They wanted to send a message. Prove you were dead,” Ren says, “I received it loud and clear.” 

“So they sent you my eye?” Martyn asks. Ren shrugs, looking away. 

“Hey, at least I didn’t bury an entirely empty casket,” Ren offers. Martyn laughs. 

“Sure. Grave just for my eye. Was it in a little casket, too?” 

Ren snickers despite himself, leaning his head against Martyn’s shoulder. 

“No. I got you a really nice casket. Best money could buy,” Ren says. His smile fades, and he turns his attention downward, picking at his nails, “I wanted everything to be perfect. Even if you weren’t going to use it.” 

“Yeah. I was too busy for that. Maybe next time,” Martyn says. Ren punches him in the arm, however weakly. All Martyn does in response to that is lift it, wrapping his arm around Ren’s shoulders.

“Next time I’m getting you a worse casket. Not going to spend all that money if you’re not even going to be there,” Ren says. Martyn laughs. 

“Hmm, well that’s not going to work. I’m a powerful man, you know—I can’t be buried in a lame casket,” Martyn says, “You’ll have a nice one, won’t you? Maybe next time I’ll just squeeze into yours.” 

Martyn squeezes Ren’s shoulders as he says it, crushing Ren closer to his chest. Ren laughs, turning his face to press his nose into Martyn’s neck. 

“Yeah, I think that’s what I’ll do. Can’t leave you alone for a second,” Martyn decides, moving his arm down to Ren’s back. He snakes his hand up Ren’s shirt, lining his fingers up against the side of Ren’s ribcage. He smooths an arc with his thumb on Ren’s skin, warmth and movement to remind Ren he’s as real and alive as Ren himself. 

“If you want to talk about it, though…” Martyn adds, “The dream or the, uh. Eye.” 

He wrinkles his nose on the last word, making Ren laugh again. 

“That grossed you out? What kind of pirate are you?” Ren asks. 

“What is that supposed to mean? I’ve cut people’s tongues out for— It’s weird when it’s your own eye, alright?” Martyn says. 

“Sure, sure. I guess your eye did look kind of weird,” Ren says. 

“Wh— Hey!” Martyn says, “I’ll have you know, I have beautiful eyes. Even when they’re not in my skull.” 

“I don’t know. It was pretty…” Ren trails off, humor fading. He bites his lip, focusing on the feeling of Martyn’s hand against his skin. “…Traumatizing.” 

“I gathered that, yeah.” 

Ren smacks him in the leg. 

“You’re genuinely impossible,” Ren says, “I don’t understand why I mourned you so bad. Maybe it was head trauma from when I fainted.” 

“You fainted?” Martyn asks. Ren shrugs. 

“Apparently. I don’t actually remember any of it. I opened the box, and my memory just kind of stops,” Ren admits. 

“Sounds lucky, honestly,” Martyn says, “Like you dodged a bullet.” 

“Hardly,” Ren scoffs, “Didn’t stop me from dreaming about it. And I thought they had your body, so there was always the chance they could just. You know.” 

“What? Send you more?” Martyn asks, “Maybe then I would have used your whole fancy casket.” 

Ren smacks him again. 

“You’re the worst,” Ren laughs, “But I did think of that. I just knew you’d say something like that.” 

Martyn wraps both his arms around Ren’s middle then, tugging, pulling Ren into his lap. He leans his chin on Ren’s shoulder, pressing the unscathed side of his face to Ren’s. He prefers to keep Ren on his good side—though Ren would love to cover Martyn’s blind side, Martyn says he’s depriving Martyn of his favorite view. 

“But you missed me,” Martyn says, moving his hand out of Ren’s shirt to rest on Ren’s chest.

“Maybe,” Ren says. He sighs. “I just… thought I’d stop dreaming about it, now that I know you’re fine, but I didn’t.” 

“Have you been dreaming about it the whole time?” Martyn asks. Ren shakes his head. 

“I mostly didn’t dream about anything, but I’ve had a few nice dreams,” Ren says, “I guess I just thought it was gone forever.” 

“Well,” Martyn says, “If you have that dream again, and I’m not the one who woke you, you can always wake me up, and I’ll prove to you that I haven’t lost any other body parts.”

“Right,” Ren says, “…Thank you.”

“Anytime, my liege,” Martyn kisses the side of his head, and Ren feels him smile against his skin, “Say, if you ever want to check that everything really is all there—”

Ren elbows him, though it doesn’t stop Martyn laughing. Despite his pretending at annoyance, Ren tilts his head back, leaning into the sound.

[marvelmusing]

A Marriage of Sins

Pairing: Forest Demon!Billy x Demon Hunter!Fem!Reader

Summary: When you hear of a demon living in an abandoned church in the woods, you know you need to investigate. But how could you know that the demon was just your soulmate waiting to marry you?

Warnings [18+]: smut, unprotected sex, dub con vibes (there’s no explicit consent given, but they’re soulmates so the reader gives in pretty easily), bondage, religious imagery, spitting, wife kink, praise kink, tiny bit of spanking.

A/N: not extensively proofread so sorry if there’s some mistakes.

My Masterlist

The church was abandoned.

That’s what the nearby villagers had told you. But as you push your shoulder against the dark oak door, light spills out towards you. The candles are lit and there’s a pleasant warmth that spreads through your body, urging you to step further inside.

Despite the vines crawling in through the cracks in the walls and the roots that are beginning to crush some of the pews, the church looks untouched by the world outside.

But there’s a reason why you’re here.

For a demon to inhabit such a sacred place, they must be incredibly powerful.

As you walk down the aisle, there’s a snap of broken glass being crushed beneath someone’s heel. When you turn, knife already in your hand, there’s no one there.

Continuing to venture further into the church, you stop at the altar, examining the contents laid out on the stone table there.

An ornate dagger, a small wooden bowl, two pieces of ribbon - one black, one white - both made of velvet. It looks like some sort of ritual is being prepared.

On a worn piece of paper, an incantation has been written in Latin and you almost make the mistake of reading it aloud. It’s then that you hear a soft chuckle, carried on a light breeze.

Heart pounding, you spin around.

The demon is tall, even as you stand on the slightly raised dais, he towers over you, his shadow creeping towards you as he steps closer.

His dark facial hair is trimmed neatly, his equally dark hair slicked back to reveal the deep brown horns sitting on the top of his head. Darkened eyes eyes roam over your figure as he continues to move towards you.

He raises a brow at the sight of your knife, then he smirks, his tongue tracing over his teeth as he tilts his head at you.

“An unconventional wedding gift, but thank you.”

“Wedding?”

He hums, his brows creasing lightly as he looks you up and down appraisingly. You don’t know why you’re standing still, waiting for his response instead of immediately sending him back to hell.

“What colour’s your underwear?” he asks.

You gape at him.

“What?”

The corner of his mouth twitches as he observes your shocked expression.

“You heard me.”

“That’s none of your business,” you protest.

He nods.

“You see, the prophecy said my wife would be clothed in white.”

Once again, he looks down at you and you follow his gaze. You’re wearing your usual hunting gear, khaki jacket with a black top and trousers, accompanied by your black boots and collection of knives tucked away in various compartments.

“And whilst I really want those fuckers down below to be wrong.” He steps closer, close enough that you could reach out and touch him. “I kinda hope you’re wearing something pretty underneath all that.”

Heart beating wildly in your chest, you attempt to slow down your thoughts. How does he know about your prophecy? You had sworn the seer to secrecy, she had vowed to tell no one about your soulmate - a demon of three sins.

Raising your chin confidently, you attempt to stare him down as you claim,

“You’ll never find out.”

He grins.

Goosebumps spread over your skin and your instincts finally kick in.

His fingers curl tightly around your wrist, the tip of your knife inches from his chest. He cocks his head aside, looking down at you with a smirk.

“This the first time you’ve fought a corporeal demon?”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you growl in frustration as you push harder against his grip with both arms.

“No.”

He breathes out a laugh, his dark eyes glinting with amusement as he pushes you backwards. His other hand curls under your elbow, giving him the leverage to hoist you up onto the altar.

Struggling against him, you continue to push the knife towards him with little success. He looks almost disappointed at your feeble attempt.

“I think you’ve forgotten something, demon,” you hiss at him. He raises a brow at you with a bored expression.

“Enlighten me then.”

“You’re in the mortal world, and this is my domain. I have the upper hand here.” You let go of the knife with one hand, calling out the words, “Flamma in manibus.”

Instantly, the flames from the candles dissipate, flooding quickly to gather in the palm of your hand. When he sees the fire blooming in front of him the demon lets go of you, disappearing into thin air.

Stunned, you stare at the empty church for a moment before you push away from the altar, taking a few tentative steps forward. Surely a little fire hadn’t scared such a powerful demon?

Then arms wrap tightly around your body, pulling you back against a firm chest. The flames in your hand extinguish as your arms are pinned down by his hold on you.

“Looking for something?” he purrs against your ear. As his nose traces over the shell of your ear you shiver, his lips hovering above the sensitive skin of your earlobe. “I gotta admit, you’re a smart one.”

As you attempt to tug away from him, his scent fills your senses. Is this demon wearing cologne? With every breath you take, more of his scent sends a burning down your throat that urges you to press your face into the crook of his neck and breathe it in directly from the source.

He smirks.

“You starting to feel it now?” You frown at him. “I’m impressed little bride, most people would be throwing themselves at me by now.”

Blinking in confusion, you turn and meet his dark eyes. When your eyes lock, you can feel the blood flooding down your body, warming your most intimate parts and stealing your ability to think clearly.

“You’re a lust demon.”

He nods with a wicked grin.

“Among other things.” At the sight of confusion filling your eyes he shrugs lightly before he admits, “I have my moments of wrath.”

A shiver runs down your spine. Most demons specialise in only one of the seven sins.

Typically you could sense it as soon as you interacted with them. But with this demon it appeared that physical contact was the only way for you to know what he’s capable of.

The pull towards him is indescribable.

Lust tugs at your body, urging you to turn around in his arms and let him kiss you. His perfect lips would feel divine on your body, his tongue tracing over your skin and his teeth leaving delightfully painful marks in their wake.

Wrath simmers under his skin, you can see the violence hidden in his dark eyes and the firm hold of his hands as his fingers tighten on your body. There’s a beauty in it, the darkness that lurks inside him, and you wonder what it would take to bring it out to play.

Underneath the pull of those two sins, there’s something else. A deep gnawing that settles in your own stomach, a wanting that hurts. The need to be the best, to have everything that you’ve ever wanted. Greed.

The corner of his mouth twitches when he hears you gasp in realisation. A demon of three sins.

“No one ever gets that far,” he muses quietly. “They just see me as a lustful temptation or a devil on their shoulder urging them to act on their darkest thoughts.”

A cool breeze ghosts over your bare stomach, making you notice that he had slowly unbuttoned your shirt. He slides his hand over your stomach, reaching up to cup your breast.

“They don’t see that greed is what really fuels me. The sex and the violence are just means to an end, so I can get whatever it is I want.”

His thumb circles over your nipple that hardens underneath the thin fabric of your bra as he continues,

“Now you’re a stubborn one, I can tell.”

The demon traces his other hand over the waistband of your trousers, tugging occasionally at the material. He clicks his tongue when the fabric doesn’t move to his liking.

“Are you going to tell me what you want?” he asks you. He dips his hand under the waistband of your trousers, running his fingers over your pantie-clad mound.

Sparks of pleasure flood through your wobbling legs and you shake your head at him, even as you whine desperately. He mimics your shaking head mockingly with a pout on his lips before he smiles.

“I think you want me to marry you. I think you wanna belong to me. Want to tie our souls together.”

His lips press a long line of kisses from the shell of your right down to the nape of your neck. With each brush of his lips, pleasure sinks into your body, your mind growing hazy from his words and his touch.

“I think you want me to fuck you over this altar. Make you mine. Stain your soul with my cock.”

A whimper leaves your lips as he slides your jacket and shirt down, dropping them onto the cold stone floor. His hand in your trousers still doesn’t move and a shuddering breath leaves your lips as you rock your hips forwards.

“I think you want to be my wife, hm?”

“What- what about you?”

He blinks at you in confusion, a small frown creasing at his brows at the sight of you looking so uncertain. Despite the flood of arousal and wanting you’re feeling, self consciousness stops you from giving yourself over to him.

“Do you want to be my husband?” you ask, almost shyly.

His eyes darken and in an instant his lips are meeting yours in a fierce kiss. Fingers curling over the back of your neck, he spins you around and hoists you up onto the altar.

A gasp falls from your lips at the chill of the stone surface against your bare thighs. He must have dematerialised your trousers at some point, though that fades away as he continues to kiss you.

“Fuck, yes,” he groans lowly. “Yes I wanna be your husband.”

Tugging at his dark clothing, you whine when it doesn’t budge and he chuckles. You blink once and by the time your eyes are open again his clothes are gone.

As your jaw drops at the sight of him, all lean muscle and scars, he takes the opportunity to tilt your head back, spitting onto your tongue. Shock prickles over your body as you moan wantonly. He grins as you swallow eagerly.

Stepping between your parted thighs, he reaches around your body with both hands, searching for the clasp of your bra. He finds it easily, but instead of undoing it, he rips it in half before tugging at the material and dropping it to the floor.

He dips his head down, tongue flattening over your hardened nipple before he takes it lightly between his teeth.

Arching into his mouth, you gasp and whimper as his hand provides your other breast with an equal amount of attention. The pads of his fingers are calloused and they prickle delightfully over your sensitive skin.

At first you grip onto the hard stone beneath you, but then you sink a hand into his hair which makes him groan. Encouraged by his reaction, you seize a tight fistful of his dark locks.

When your nails accidentally scratch one of his horns he growls deeply, tilting his head back to look up at you. The look in his eyes makes your whole body want to melt into a puddle, allowing him to reshape you into whatever he wants.

His lips move back up, trailing a line of harsh kisses over your throat.

“Well they were right,” he breathes against your lips before he kisses you firmly. “You were wearing white.”

Blinking, you look down at your torn white bra and the soaked white panties that are clinging to the wet lips of your cunt. He slides your panties delicately down your legs, pressing kisses to whatever part of you is closest.

His thumb circles your clit slowly and you whine loudly at the bare minimum you’re being granted. When you try to grasp his wrist as swats your hand away and his obsidian eyes flash with danger.

“Patience,” he warns you, and you can’t help but tease,

“I thought patience was a virtue?”

He growls.

Your knees land on the altar as he turns you around, your cheek pressing against the cool polished stone and you breathe in sharply as his cock presses against your sopping entrance.

He slaps your ass and you whimper, giving his restraint the final push.

He groans loudly as he pushes inside you, and your hands scramble for purchase, nails scratching against the stone as the sensation of him filling you so thoroughly overtakes your senses.

Once he’s all the way inside, he breathes out harshly, pressing his forehead between your shoulder blades. He picks up the black ribbon from beside you, using it to tie your hands in front of you.

He runs his hands soothingly over your shoulders, massaging gently before he uses his weight to pin you beneath him. Then he begins to fuck you.

Hands bound, body bent into the position of his choosing, you can do nothing but accept the pleasure he’s giving you. He swipes his thumb over your clit, and you clench hard around him as the head of his cock knocks against that spot deep inside you.

As you begin to near the edge of your climax, he speeds up and soon you’re squeezing tightly around his cock as your orgasm hits you. Tension fills your muscles as you clench with a groan, the aftershocks pushing your body through a violent wave of pleasure.

He growls lowly, gritting his teeth and taking even breaths as you twitch beneath him, feeling stunned from your sudden high.

When you finally relax, your muscles loosening with pleasure, he pulls out of you. Before you can protest, he’s turning you around to lie on your back with your bound hands resting on your stomach.

Then he picks up the white ribbon.

“You think you can manage a few knots?”

You blink at him, still dazed with pleasure. Then you realise.

You’re getting married.

The black ribbon currently tied expertly around your wrists represents his soul. The ribbon that he’s holding now represents yours. A pure, delicate white.

The aftershocks of your orgasm make your shake and you struggle slightly with the ribbon as you tie his wrists together with a little slack between them. He grins, using his bound hands to position his cock against your cunt for the second time.

He’s slower this time, urging you to take him into your body with a surprising amount of intimacy. He takes your face between both of his hands and you can feel the ribbon that binds his hands together as it brushes against the back of your neck.

His forehead presses against yours, allowing the two of you to share long kisses that steal your breath away as he rocks inside you. Rolling your hips against his, you hear him inhale sharply before he’s thrusting harder.

Soon, you’re both moaning desperately into the kisses. Your bound hands smooth up his chest, taking his chin between your fingers. The scratch of his stubble prickles over your fingertips.

He groans loudly as he feels you clenching rapidly around his cock and praise spills from his lips, making your head fuzzy with warmth.

“Such a good little wife, with a gorgeous little cunt. You’re gonna let me cum in you, aren’t you? Gonna let me fill my wife up.”

“Yes,” you breathe out against his lips. Then he slams his hips down hard. “Yes,” you cry into the empty church. “Yes please.”

“Fuck,” he moans. Your nails dig into his hips, scratching lightly as you try to ground yourself. But pleasure is already sweeping its way through your body, lighting every nerve on fire.

Legs shaking constantly, you gasp against his lips as he kisses you.

“Let go, little bride. Let me marry you properly. Give me another orgasm, you feel so good when you cum.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, stars bloom over your closed eyelids as your hips jerk wildly. Then you climax hard around his cock. A long stream of moans escape from your worn throat, as your cunt spasms frantically.

With a few more thrusts, you’re dizzy with pleasure and he spills inside you. He rolls his hips as he rides out his high, only stopping when your whimpers become too loud and your hands nudge him away.

Withdrawing his hands from you, he reaches down to untie the ribbon around your wrists. He breathes out a chuckle at the dazed look in your eyes, and he guides your fingers towards the loose end of his own bindings.

Still dealing with the toll taken on your body, a few weak tugs is all you can manage, but soon enough the white ribbon falls to the floor alongside the black.

He runs his freed hands over your wrists, easing any discomfort caused with a gentle brush over his palm. A kiss is pressed against your damp forehead, before he rocks his hips forward.

Tensing suddenly, you stare at him with widened eyes. Then he pulls out slowly and a confusing mixture of relief and sadness fills you, but you don’t have the energy to analyse your reaction.

He traces his fingers through your folds, pushing his thick spend back inside you. Heart still pounding in your chest, you almost don’t hear him as he says,

“My name’s Billy by the way.”

Between shuddering breaths, you manage a small laugh before you tell him your own name. He smiles widely, licking his finger clean as he looks down at you.

Billy murmurs your name softly, attracting your attention. As he leans closer, you thread a hand through his hair, then stroke a single fingertip against one of his horns.

He shivers.

Then he reaches for you, tracing his fingers gently over your cheek.

“My beautiful little wife.”

»»---------------------►

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch

Billy Russo Tag List: @blackbirddaredevil23 @rafaelakelley @theysayitscrazy @nyx2021 @skybridgerton @dragon-of-winterfell @chickensarentcheap @stardustmorozov @sweetwritingfanficfriend @witchcraftandwit @ladyofsoa

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny

[teriwrites]

WIP Intro: The Blind Oracle

Genre | Fantasy POV | 3rd person limited, past tense* Setting | Cebryn, the capital city of the Fendwyth Kingdom Themes | Tragedy, Family Dynamics, Fear and how we control it, Paranoia, Trust and Betrayal, What exactly IS the great responsibility that comes with great power?, Learned Helplessness *mostly

Synopsis

As Madoc Medwin takes his vows to join the elite ranks of Fendwyth's Oracles, he believes the anxieties and uncertainty of his past lie behind him. No longer shall he craft fake predictions to please eager customers, and no longer will he fear the retribution of their anger when his "foresight" amounts to vague fortunetelling. Now, he can finally take confidence that the only tales he tells are those of true visions, and now, finally, Madoc's clairvoyance can amount to more than uncomfortable flashes of insight interfering in his day-to-day. That is, until he begins his time in the Halls of Augury, and a creeping sense of inadequacy descends over the adjustment to his new life. Despite the openness of the other Oracles, and the encouragement of the head Prophet, Madoc finds doubt in every move he makes. This unease escalates as an overheard conversation brings a vision from Madoc's childhood into sharp relief. A vision he forced himself to forget. One that sharing publicly might get him labeled as a traitor. But as the pieces slowly begin falling into place, dread becomes terror becomes panic as Madoc grapples with his role in preventing the oncoming chaos.

Characters

Madoc Medwin: The Halls of Augury's newest Oracle. A Seer (think street-performing fortuneteller) by trade, he's excited to cast aside the act and embrace a more prestigious position as a divinator. Very quickly finds himself overwhelmed. Gareth Medwin: Recently earned the role of a lowly Palace Guard on the grounds of the Halls of Augury due to a lucky break, also known as a charming personality and a brother's ascent to a high ranking position. Hefin 'Fin' Pendry: Self-assigned mentor to the new Oracles, determined to provide the same assistance to Madoc. Madoc's resistance to accept any help only serves as further evidence that he needs it. Rhonwen Castell: The Prophet of the Halls of Augury. Rhonwen embraces her reputation as an unnerving presence with a deadpan confidence, but maintains a warmth for her Oracles. Morien Rhydderch: King of Fendwyth. Along with his Advisory, looks to strengthen the nation's foothold among their neighbors.

[starfall-spirit]

Read on Ao3 // Ancient Myths Retold Masterlist

Summary: Lost at sea for the last ten years, Lucien Vanserra, Heir to Day has been presumed dead by all but one. Clinging to that thread of gold and loyal until and beyond death, Elain knows every one of the gossiping fools and suitors cursing her doorstep are wrong. Even still, feeling their bond grow frailer each morning has taken it's toll.

Each night she can't help but fear that bond will at last be cleaved, and the wolves will close in for their prize—her hand in marriage.

AN: This is inspired by EPIC: The Musical. If you haven’t listened to the EIGHT SAGAS Jay has released, WHAT ARE YOU DOING GO LISTEN!!!

If you have, DM me so we can freak out together.

CW: Fluffy smut

Chapter II: My Everything

Lucien

Lucien would never forget the day he met Elain. He’d heard the rumors about her, of course. She’d come into her power a few months before the solstice, recognized and revered as a seer almost immediately. There had been a mild interest shown on his father’s part, but he had no interest in arranging or rushing Lucien’s marriage. Considering the chaos and scandal that preceded his own union, it wasn’t exactly a surprise.

Lucien’s business in Summer was strictly professional, all about turning on his charm as a courtier and setting down new political anchors. But then the energy of the room had shifted. A thread pulled taut inside of him, winding out. Across the vast space of the ball room, he found the other end of it.

She was stunning in every sense of the word, dressed that evening in a sunset pink gown, her face slightly flushed from dancing, even if her partner seemed to be lacking in any sort of aptitude for the task. He knew he’d have to remedy the issue himself, making his move the moment it was socially acceptable. Luckily enough, the male moved on before Lucien could make himself look like an entitled ass in his desperation to speak with his mate. He’d crossed the floor, offered his arm, and that moment—taking her hand and drawing her into that first dance—had started it all. Had led them here.

Once again they stood hand in hand, eager to accept the silken fabric of white and gold meant to be wound around their joined hands where they stood before the court's High Priestess prepared to say their vows. Elain was resplendent in her mating gown, a lightweight dress that complemented the palette of the scarf binding them. The off-shoulder gown left her arms bare, the pleated bodice hugging her figure close before the skirt flared loosely from her slender waist, its sheer golden train trailing a few feet behind her.

But beautiful as all of that made her, it was the unadulterated joy in her eyes as they exchanged their vows that stole his breath. Hope for what their future holds. “You’re exquisite,” he’d breathed the moment he saw her. “Simply exquisite.”

The bond between them had thrummed as her cheeks heated, living and writhing between them with the tension building with each day they waited to truly accept the bond, putting on this grand display for their families and courts. All he needed was a bed and four walls to see their bond to its full glory, but with Elain’s raising… Though the concern could never be brought into conversation with polite company, Lucien could read Lady Archeron’s fears well enough. Elain was her most beautiful daughter and greatest prize on the marriage market. She wasn’t going to chance anything physical happening before vows were exchanged with a prince some dared call rakish. And Elain was the dutiful daughter, to a fault.

It had been a special kind of torture, shoving back the instinct to claim, claim, claim when he snuck into the guest room his family provided Elain. To wake each morning and fall asleep each night with her smaller form flush against his, her soft little breaths at his ear, her scent—so uniquely Elain—that stayed caught in his nose in dreams and reality both.

Now, seeing her in her mating gown, haloed by a sunset that just kissed the waters beyond, Lucien thought it was almost worth the wait.

~~~~~

Elain

Elain adored Lucien’s parents in every sense of the word. It’s why she’d had so few disagreements with the lavish event their mating ceremony turned out to be, planned with the help of his mother. If she was honest, the entire evening had been a girlhood dream come true. And yet all she could think of was the events that would follow the reception’s closure—or at least their leave from it.

Even with that said, all that came before it made for a night to be remembered, particularly their first dance together. Whatever fuss her mother and father had been making was long forgotten, with the ceremony and formal mating offering behind them.

What had started as a formal dance slowly morphed into something softer, hands once so carefully placed now drifting to pull each other close. One of Lucien’s hands had splayed across her lower back, drawing her in until she melted against him, arms coming up over his shoulders, her nose pressed against his pulse. His other hand slipping beneath her hair to cradle her neck. It left only enough room between them so they didn’t trip over one another.

It didn’t leave any room for her to misunderstand a single word leaving his lips, too quiet for anyone but her to hear, even as the worst of Day’s gossip-mongers twirled around them.

So, like warm honey each endearment flowed from his lips, their tender charm cleaved only by a filthy promise to complement each one.

Each and every time I see you, you seem more beautiful than the last. Tonight… I don’t know how much longer I can play this game when all I can think about is ripping this dress to pieces and worshiping every inch of you.

Every word was spoken so easily. His face never shifted, his scent never changed. Even as she felt desire pooling deep within herself. She saw the hunger in his eyes alone when he pulled back enough to claim her mouth. There was a familiar pressure around them. And the next time she opened her eyes the party had vanished, replaced by a massive bed and a crackling hearth.

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Your mother—”

“My mother is a mated female. She’ll understand. And if she actually has a problem with us leaving early, she can take it up with me after the honeymoon. Now—” A feral grin crossed his face, a silent vow of wicked things to come. “—I believe I was just beginning to tell you my plans for our time away.” His nose swept down the side of her neck ever so gently, lifting away only for him to press a soft kiss beneath her ear. Elain didn’t bother trying to suppress the shiver that coursed through her. “The things I want to do to you,” he groaned, circling her until his breath warmed her nape, his nimble fingers unfastening each button at the back of her dress until the white silk pooled to the floor. “Mate.”

That word was her undoing. His fingers had just started working open the corset’s tie when she whipped around to face him again, dragging him down by the neck to kiss her. The taste of him would ruin her, that she couldn't deny.

There was a sudden heat down her spine, gone as quickly as it appeared, the stench of singed fabric cleared with a soft wind. Breaking the kiss, she scowled at her mate. “Did you just burn my clothing off?”

“I singed a few laces,” he purred, ripping through the weakened garment in a single motion. “You can keep pretending you actually care or you can let me take you to bed and fulfill every filthy promise I made on that dance floor.”

His mouth was on her again, the tip of his tongue sweeping across her lower lip. The heat of the bond only built as she let him in, channeling what focus she could manage into working open the buttons of his jacket and shirt. They fell to the floor in a forgotten tangle of fabric, buried beneath the skirt of her dress seconds later. “Cauldron. You’re going to be the death of me.”

“A bit dramatic, don’t you think?” Elain panted. “I’m just going to ruin you for anyone else.”

He chuckled, laying her down on the mattress at her back. “Little dove, that was done the moment you accepted my request to dance.” His calloused fingers traced down the tender flesh of her stomach, dipping just low enough to graze her clitoris, drawing out a soft whimper. “Hmm.”

“Lucien.”

“Such a mouth on you and one little touch later, where are we?” A single finger pushed into her core and she groaned. “Sweet, needy girl, already soaked for me.” Adding a second finger almost immediately, he curled them both inside of her, setting her trembling in his arms.

Reaching up, she loosened the knot of leather tying his hair out of his face, her fingers twisting through the strands at the back of his head. She needed to taste him again. Mate. Mine. Claim. She didn’t need any sort of daemati gift to know the same thought had lodged in his own mind, a tempest of need and emotion flooding her very veins.

Groaning into her mouth, Lucien rolled his hips into hers, the hard length of him all the more obvious to her with her legs spread to cradle his hips. She broke away just long enough to gasp out something that ended up sounding more like a plea than a command, but he honored it all the same, quickly stripping his pants and shirt.

She reached to plant a hand on his chest, trying to keep a clear enough head to think of something other than the firm muscle beneath her palm—the hard length of him against her “We can wait, Elain,” he offered, reading the nervous energy that had cut through the fog of lust that had nearly consumed them both.

“No. Just…”

“I guarantee there is nothing you could do tonight to ruin the gift we’ve been given, Elain.” And if that didn’t cut right to the root of the issue. “Let me show you, my love.”

She nodded. “Close your eyes. All I want you to do for now is feel. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” she whispered. She hoped. But so inexperienced, who was to say—The first stroke of his tongue banished any concern of inadequacy from her mind. Elain hadn’t even noticed him move that far down the bed through their short discussion of her reservations. “You don’t have to—”

“You have a few things to learn, Elain, if you’ve convinced yourself that tasting you is an inconvenience to me. It’s all I’ve thought about for weeks. Relax,” he finally crooned.

It only took a moment longer for her to go pliant beneath his touch, earning a groan of approval, his calloused hands wrapping over the tops of her thighs to lock her in place against his mouth. “Gods.” She bit her lip nearly hard enough to break skin, trying to keep from revealing how easily his touch destroyed her self-control.

“None of that,” he growled, pulling away just long enough to scold her. “I want to hear every sweet little sound you make for me, Elain. How else will I know how to satisfy you in the future?”

At this point she doubted there was much he could do that wouldn’t satisfy her, not that she had any intention of feeding her mate’s ego more than this moment undeniably would.

Her case wasn’t helped any by the near violent trembling in her thighs when his head dropped again. “Lucien. Lucien, wait. Too much.” His mouth closed over her clit, two fingers pushing deep inside of her. She screamed, fist clenched tight in his hair as the first wave rolled through her.

She wasn’t sure if he realized how new all of it was to her. Of course Lucien knew she hadn’t gone as far as to let a male into her bed, but had he pieced together she hadn’t so much as touched herself? How could she, so fearful of judgement from her family and their staff if they could scent it on her the next morning?

There beneath her mate she couldn’t manage more than a whimper of protest when he continued working her through the crashing wave of sensation, unbearable pressure building too quickly. “Come on, sweetheart,” he growled, the vibration rippling through her.

“I’m almost—”

His fingers curled sharply, teeth pinching down enough to sting until her second climax broke through her. He slide up her body, mapping each tender point of skin along the way, his fingers keeping a steady rhythm inside her to drag her back down, spiraling back to some semblance of coherency.

Elain managed to peel her eyes open just as he pulled his hand back, drawing out a low moan quickly silenced by his kiss. He notched against her, teasing the tip until she tried to lift her hips. She felt his lips curl into a smile the same moment his left hand threaded against her right, the other a guide between them as he eased in to the hilt.

“Oh.”

“Alright?” he checked.

“Full. Okay.” He gave her a few moments to adjust to the stretch, let the pinch of pain fade. He was the first and last male who would touch her like this, be inside of her. Her mate. A pleasant shiver ran through her at the thought and his fingers tightened between hers when she clenched around him. “I’m okay,” she said again, legs wrapping behind his back.

“Good girl.” His other hand braced against the headboard, hips rocking slow and steady. “So sweet for me,” he praised, nose tracing the length of her throat as his rhythm quickened, Elain’s head tipping back. “Dreamed of seeing my pretty little mate filled up like this.”

Another soft moan snuck up her throat with the next punch of his hips, each word leaving her mates lips lodging deep in her mind set to run time and time again. “Lucien, more,” she managed to bite out, a broken sound leaving her when he reached beneath her to better angle her hips.

Teetering, waiting to fall, her nails bit into his back with the next stroke. He groaned at her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. “Elain, fuck.”

The arm braced beside her head buckled and he dropped to his elbow, his hand slipping under her head to tangle through her hair enough to tilt her head, his mouth once again homing in on the tender flesh of her neck. A soft cry left her at the pinch of his teeth and she gripped him tighter as her third orgasm tore through her, the mating bond a golden flame between them.

Lucien growled, hitting her cervix the moment he fell into his own release, his tongue tracing the bite at her neck as he worked her through the last of it.

She heard a mumbling by her ear, a steady chant gaining clarity as she dragged herself back to a somewhat coherent state.

“My mate. My beautiful, marvelous mate.” He kissed her brow. “What I did to deserve this, I’ll never know.”

~~~~~

Taglist: @corcracrow // @goddess-aelin // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiyawhitethorn // @vulpes-fennec // @headcanonheadcase // @aldbooks // @panicatthenightcourt // @jennity-blogs // @thelovelymadone

[book--brackets]

Valdemar: Mage Wars by Mercedes Lackey (1994-1996)

It is an age when Valdemar is yet unfounded, its organization of Heralds yet unformed, and magic is still a wild and uncontrolled force.

Skandranon Rashkae is perhaps the finest specimen of his race, with gleaming ebony feathers, majestic wingspan, keen magesight and sharp intelligence. Courageous, bold, and crafty, Skan is everything a gryphon should be. He is the fulfillment of everything that the Mage of Silence, the human sorcerer called Urtho, intended to achieve when he created these magical beings to be his champions, the defenders of his realm--a verdant plain long coveted by the evil mage Maar.

Now Maar is once again advancing on Urtho's Keep, this time with a huge force spearheaded by magical constructs of his own--cruel birds of prey ready to perform any evil their creator may demand of them. And when one of Urtho's Seers wakes from a horrifying vision in which she sees a devastating magical weapon being placed in the hands of Maar's common soldiers, Skandrannon is sent to spy across enemy lines, cloaked in the protective of Urtho's powerful Spell of Silence.

Sorcerer Royal by Zen Cho (2015-2019)

At his wit’s end, Zacharias Wythe, freed slave, eminently proficient magician, and Sorcerer Royal of the Unnatural Philosophers—one of the most respected organizations throughout all of Britain—ventures to the border of Fairyland to discover why England’s magical stocks are drying up.

But when his adventure brings him in contact with a most unusual comrade, a woman with immense power and an unfathomable gift, he sets on a path which will alter the nature of sorcery in all of Britain—and the world at large…

Valdemar: Vows and Honor by Mercedes Lackey (1988-1998)

She was Tarma. Born to the Clan of the Hawk of the nomadic Shin'a'in people, she saw her entire clan slain by brigands. Vowing blood revenge upon the murderers, she became one of the sword-sworn, the most elite of all warriors. And trained in all the forms of death-dealing combat, she took to the road in search of her enemies.

She was Kethry. Born to a noble house, sold into a hateful "marriage", she fled life's harshness for the sanctuary of the White Winds, a powerful school of sorcery. Becoming an adept, she pledged to use her talents for the greatest good. Yet unlike other sorcerers, Kethry could use worldly weapons as well as magical skills. And when she became the bearer of a uniquely magical sword that drew her to those in need, Kethry was led to a fateful meeting with Tarma.

United by sword-spell and the will of the Goddess, Tarma and Kethry swore a blood oath to carry on their mutual fight against evil. And together, swordsmaster and sorceress set forth to fulfill their destiny....

The Kingston Cycle by C. L. Polk (2018-2021)

In an original world reminiscent of Edwardian England in the shadow of a World War, cabals of noble families use their unique magical gifts to control the fates of nations, while one young man seeks only to live a life of his own. 

Magic marked Miles Singer for suffering the day he was born, doomed either to be enslaved to his family's interest or to be committed to a witches' asylum. He went to war to escape his destiny and came home a different man, but he couldn't leave his past behind. The war between Aeland and Laneer leaves men changed, strangers to their friends and family, but even after faking his own death and reinventing himself as a doctor at a cash-strapped veterans' hospital, Miles can't hide what he truly is. 

When a fatally poisoned patient exposes Miles' healing gift and his witchmark, he must put his anonymity and freedom at risk to investigate his patient's murder. To find the truth he'll need to rely on the family he despises, and on the kindness of the most gorgeous man he's ever seen.

The Faerie Wars Chronicles by Harbie Brennan (2003-2011)

When Henry Atherton helps Mr. Fogarty clean up around his house, he expects to find a mess and a cranky old man; what he doesn't expect to find is Pyrgus Malvae, crown prince of the Faerie realm, who has escaped the treacherous Faeries of the Night by traveling to the human world through a portal powered by trapped lightning. An egomaniacal demon prince, greedy glue factory owners Brimstone and Chalkhill, and the nefarious Lord Hairstreak, leader of the Faeries of the Night, all dream of ruling the Faerie realm and are out to kill Pyrgus.

Enlisting the help of his sister, Holly Blue, and his new friend, Henry, Pyrgus must get back to the Faerie world alive before one of his many enemies gets to him instead. But how many portals are open, and can Pyrgus find the right one before it falls into the wrong hands?

The Ordinary Princess by M. M. Kaye (1980)

Along with Wit, Charm, Health, and Courage, Princess Amy of Phantasmorania receives a special fairy christening gift: Ordinariness. Unlike her six beautiful sisters, she has brown hair and freckles, and would rather have adventures than play the harp, embroider tapestries . . . or become a Queen. When her royal parents try to marry her off, Amy runs away and, because she's so ordinary, easily becomes the fourteenth assistant kitchen maid at a neighboring palace. And there . . . much to everyone's surprise . . . she meets a prince just as ordinary (and special) as she is 

The Little White Horse by Elizabeth Goudge (1946)

When orphaned young Maria Merryweather arrives at Moonacre Manor, she feels as if she's entered Paradise. Her new guardian, her uncle Sir Benjamin, is kind and funny; the Manor itself feels like home right away; and every person and animal she meets is like an old friend. But there is something incredibly sad beneath all of this beauty and comfort--a tragedy that happened years ago, shadowing Moonacre Manor and the town around it--and Maria is determined to learn about it, change it, and give her own life story a happy ending. But what can one solitary girl do?

Dr. Greta Helsing by Vivian Shaw (2017-2024)

Meet Greta Helsing, doctor to the undead. After inheriting a highly specialised, and highly peculiar, medical practice, Dr Helsing spends her days treating London’s undead for a host of ills: vocal strain in banshees, arthritis in barrow-wights and entropy in mummies. Although barely making ends meet, this is just the quiet, supernatural-adjacent life Greta’s dreamed of since childhood.

But when a sect of murderous monks emerges, killing human undead and alike, Greta must use all her unusual skills to keep her supernatural clients – and the rest of London – safe.

Of Mermaids and Orisa by Natasha Bowen (2021-2022)

Simi prayed to the gods, once. Now she serves them as Mami Wata—a mermaid—collecting the souls of those who die at sea and blessing their journeys back home.

But when a living boy is thrown overboard, Simi does the unthinkable—she saves his life, going against an ancient decree. And punishment awaits those who dare to defy it.

To protect the other Mami Wata, Simi must journey to the Supreme Creator to make amends. But something is amiss. There’s the boy she rescued, who knows more than he should. And something is shadowing Simi, something that would rather see her fail. . . .

Danger lurks at every turn, and as Simi draws closer, she must brave vengeful gods, treacherous lands, and legendary creatures. Because if she doesn’t, then she risks not only the fate of all Mami Wata, but also the world as she knows it.

Girls Made of Snow and Glass by Melissa Bashardoust (2017)

Sixteen-year-old Mina is motherless, her magician father is vicious, and her silent heart has never beat with love for anyone--has never beat at all, in fact, but she'd always thought that fact normal. She never guessed that her father cut out her heart and replaced it with one of glass. When she moves to Whitespring Castle and sees its king for the first time, Mina forms a plan: win the king's heart with her beauty, become queen, and finally know love. The only catch is that she'll have to become a stepmother.

Fifteen-year-old Lynet looks just like her late mother, and one day she discovers why: a magician created her out of snow in the dead queen's image, at her father's order. But despite being the dead queen made flesh, Lynet would rather be like her fierce and regal stepmother, Mina. She gets her wish when her father makes Lynet queen of the southern territories, displacing Mina. Now Mina is starting to look at Lynet with something like hatred, and Lynet must decide what to do--and who to be--to win back the only mother she's ever known...or else defeat her once and for all.

[egoistars]

ACE FORGOT YOUR BIRTHDAY LMFAO twst

ace trappola, self proclaimed genius, child prodigy, magician, seer, schizophrenic? realized he forgot your birthday and vows to make it up to you

warnings: swearing, kms jokes, unserious angst, ace

ace trappola was going to kill himself.

he woke up in a cold sweat, wide awake and panting as panic was running through his veins on high speed, stabbing his flesh at every breath. deuce slept soundly in the bed opposite of his, snoring without a care in the world. the vision of you crying in bed, wailing about celebrating your birthday all alone replayed in his mind over and over again, each time like a bullet to his heart.

"how can you be this relaxed?" ace angrily thought as he marched up to his roommate's bed like a toddler telling his parents that he "frew up". but this was no vomit incident or potty accident. no, ace trappola was a big boy now who had to take responsibility and make sure his friends did as well.

"deuce spade," ace boomed into the blue-haired boy with pronoun's ear. he did not move. deuce drooled a little in response actually which pissed the redhead off even more. he took the shoulders of his roommate and began shaking him so fast and hard a stripper's ass was shivering in fear.

"what the-"

"deucey we have a problem," ace wasted no time explaining the issue. "prefect's birthday was yesterday and we forgot about it."

"WHAT?! why didn't they tell us?" deuce cried, his mouth comically wide open.

"i don't know, okay?! but we gotta make it up to them!"

now normally, ace wouldn't give a shit. oops, he would think, and move on with his day. but no, you were special. against all scientific odds, ace trappola developed an embarrassingly fat crush on you and when accidentally spilling it to epel one time, the country boy told him it was "cringe" and he knew epel was right.

but it's okay! ace was pretty confident in himself. i mean, the boy could pull anyone he wanted! he was delusional enough to believe that he was a master of rizz. that man popped out of the womb reciting all laws of quantum rizzics. that heart on his face? it proved it. however, now that ace forgot about your birthday, his chances of dating you were pretty much imaginary by now. all you were going to do was get a rizztraining order against him.

"what should we do?" deuce worriedly asked ace, "should we get trey to bake them a cake and call everyone up?"

ace huffed a deep breath of determination, ready to make things right.

"deuce, get ortho and help trey with the cake and meet me outside of ramshackle as soon as possible. i'll get sebek, epel, and jack so we can get gifts for prefect."

"i got this, bro."

"i knew i could count on you, bro."

the pair dabbed each other up like the disgusting, smelly teenage boys they were and ran out of their dorm.

。。。

the sun was starting to rise and the gang of first years gathered outside of ramshakle dormitory, swallowing their shame and exhaustion. as ace double, triple, quadruple checked everything, epel kept on yawning every 30 seconds, jack was uncomfortably adjusting the party hat between his beast ears, and sebek was vocally quiet for once as he was enamored by human party favors.

"alright gang, once they open the door, sebek blow the party favor because no one wants to hear you sing-"

sebek angrily tooted, hitting ace in the face with paper.

"-deuce show them the cake, and the rest of us will sing happy birthday and take turns giving them presents, got it?"

a chorus of "yes" said in various voices and volumes responded to ace's question. the boy knocked three times on the old, wooden door with a gloved hand and proceeded to nervously wait.

a low creaking brought forth your face into view.

"...why the fuck are you guys here so early?"

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PREFECT!" your friends screamed into your ear ( sebek could only toot ).

before anyone could start singing, the confusion in your face shut them all up.

"uh, my birthday is in three months. are you guys okay?"

deuce dropped the cake. epel started screaming profanities, ortho started crying, sebek sadly tooted, jack was tired, ace trappola was going to fucking kill himself if his friends didn't kill him first.